#even if that means using more 'obvious' tone indicators

[peri]

just saw someone use the tone indicator "/question" .... there's an indicator for that one. its called the question mark

[feralandnormal]

every post about tone indicators in the fuckin world: i cant use them and don't understand them so ita scary and bad :(

god i almost forgot they always always always end with some stone age guy like

'haha i saw /(two characters) and thought (other, vulgar acronym) hehe!!!'

like okay? You can't use Fire fox? that's sooo crazy and silly dude really

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

[stairain]

Make Hate to You.

Spencer’s convinced you like him a little more than you’re letting on, but you’re set on showing him just how wrong he is. 

Warnings: Sub Spencer, enemies to lovers, arguing, teasing, degradation, degrading names, blowjob, first orgasm, handjob, slapping, cocky Spencer, mean reader, reader talks a lot at the end but it’s because Spencer can literally not talk. 

WC: 5.7K

“Hey, Pretty boy.”

You said as you walked into his office and leaned against his desk with your arms crossed. You had a smug smile on your face as you looked at him.

Spencer’s lip twitches slightly in annoyance, but he suppresses it with a small smile. He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, and looks up at you.

"Good morning. Is there something you need?"

You could sense the irritation in his voice, and had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Need you to double check over these files for me.. Think you can do that?” Your tone is almost mocking as you drop a stack of folders on his desk in front of him.

He gives you a blank look for a moment, then gives you a subtle half-smile before he picks up the folders and begins leafing through them. 

“Certainly. Anything to help, you know." It's subtle, but he just gave you a little bit of a dig there– just the way you hated.

"Anything else I can help you with?"

You cross your arms once more now that your hands are empty, and suck on your teeth as you look over his body.

“Yeah, maybe get yourself a new wardrobe.. Looks like you went to a library lost and found and called it a day.”

He chuckles a little bit and gives you a dry look. He takes the time to look over what you're wearing, and gives you a knowing smile while he looks you up and down.

"You aren't exactly in the position to call out anyone else's wardrobe choices," he says, but the amusement in his voice indicates this is all good fun for him. "Now, do you need something else, or do you just enjoy my company?" 

Your eyes squint at him with a look full of resentment, and you don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time.

“Trust me, I’d rather be anywhere else right now than around you..” As you finish speaking, you turn around to walk back to your office.

He shakes his head a little, chuckling to himself, but doesn't stop you from leaving. You can feel his gaze on your back for an intense moment, before you hear him speak again, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Oh, I bet you would," He says, his voice lowering. He gives your back a little wave before he goes back to reading the files, not looking up again.

When you hear him muttering under your breath, you stop in your tracks and slowly turn to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

The man looks up from the files, and gives you a smug half-grin from over the tops of his spectacles. He takes a little time to look you over, then takes a little more extra time before he responds, as if he's deciding what to say.

"Oh,"

He replies, drawing out the beginning of the sentence for dramatic effect. He pauses for a beat, and then gives you a knowing look.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He seems to find that answer quite humorous, because he chuckles a little bit, giving you a wink.

You slowly walk back over to him with an unamused look on your face. It was annoying how much he was enjoying this.

“Humor me, Reid.”

He gives you a mock-innocent look, but he smiles at your stern expression, and speaks in the same even, soft tone he always uses.

"Why, what happened to me getting on your nerves just a few moments ago?" The playful tease behind his words is more obvious this time, and his smile spreads a little. "Are you perhaps enjoying my company as well - even if you wouldn't admit it?"

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Why would I enjoy your company? You’re nothing but a pain in my ass.”

He raises an eyebrow. He doesn't respond right away, though; he just studies you, thinking. He's good at reading people, and you know that, and you feel a little bit of that insecurity start to slip underneath the surface of your mask of confidence. You feel a little bit nervous now, because you think his eyes on you feel a little bit more serious than before, and you don't know where it's coming from or why.

"Really?"

“Yes, really. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” You cross your arms over your chest as you look down at him, your anger boiling over now. “I do not like you.”

His eyebrows arch a little at that, and you see the amusement in his eyes fade away. He seems to be looking at you in a new light, as his attention goes from soft-spoken and mild-mannered to slightly sharp with an intensity you don't often see. He looks at you for a beat before he speaks again, but this time his voice is different, a little lower. 

"Tell me why."

You froze as you tried to wrack your brain for something.. Why did you hate him so much? You’ve never had to think about it before, and the way you’re silent in response says far too much. Your mind has gone completely blank.

Spencer leans forward, hands on his desk, his gaze still intensely focused on you. If he noticed your discomfort, he didn't show it. He just kept looking at you with that serious intensity, waiting for you to say something. It goes on for just a few seconds too long, then, because you've never felt anything like that from him before.

"Let me rephrase that," he says softly. "Tell me what I have done to make you hate me." His voice is soft, but there's an edge of steel underneath it.

You take a deep breath before answering, and you can feel the anger seeping back into your system.

“Y-You’re just so.. you. Always so cocky over everything, thinking you’ve got everyone and everything figured out.. You don’t know shit, Reid.”

Your tone is pure venom now, and he doesn't seem to mind that, because he keeps looking at you with that same calm intensity. When you finish speaking, he's still and quiet for a moment, and then he starts to smile slowly, looking at you intently. He leans back in his chair, and his expression is smug again.

"You know what's funny?" he says nonchalantly. "This might be the most honest you've ever been."

With a groan, you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“See this, this is what I’m talking about.. You think you’re so insightful, god it’s like your ego is inflated 100 times more than it should be.”

He laughs lightly and leans forward in his chair, opening a folder as you speak. He gives you an amused little smile.

"And now we've circled back around to you enjoying my company."

That smug comment seems to be for the specific purpose of irritating you. The look in his eyes is mocking you, and he seems to be trying to hide the mirth in his voice. You know you won't be able to back down from a challenge, though. You just can’t.

“God.. How many times do I have to say it before you understand? I do not enjoy your company, and I do not like you. Got that?”

He gives you a slow, confident smile. It's almost infuriating to you, seeing that smug look on his face when you’re so worked up over this, and he seems to know it. He speaks softly in that same even tone, but now there's a little playfulness in it. 

“You can tell yourself that," he replies, "but we both know it isn't true."

He pauses for a moment, closing the folder before leaning back in his chair, then looks at you directly.

"You're more fun when you're mad, anyway."

You dig your tongue into your cheek in fury and you shake your head to ground yourself for a moment. “Why are you doing this?”

Reid raises both eyebrows in surprise, and his smile grows a little bit - the look of smug cockiness on his face now very visible. He seems genuinely amused by that question.

"Doing what?" he asks bluntly. "Having a pleasant conversation with a charming co-worker like yourself?"

A roll of your eyes is all you give him in response to his comment. “You’re a so-called genius but can’t figure out what I’m talking about, really?”

Reid laughs softly and shakes his head at that, letting out a little chuckle.

"I was being facetious," he says, "but I take it you figured that out already. Your sarcasm detector must be very well tuned."

He's still smiling, but the amusement is fading again.

"What am I 'doing'? Really, lay it out clearly for me."

“The way you’re talking to me.. It’s like you’re talking to a child, like I’m some kind of idiot that you don’t take seriously.”

Why did you really care if he talked to you like this? You hated him, it’s not like you’re around him enough anyways for it to bother you as much as you’re letting it get to you now.

Spencer lets out a huff through his nose at that, and gives you an amused, cocky little smile. His tone is gentle, but there's also the hint of mockery behind it, and you know he's teasing you on purpose. He doesn't seem to be taking this seriously, but that only makes you feel more annoyed.

"And what about how you're talking to me?" he replies, his tone even more calm now, the smile a little bit more mocking and smug. "Does that not also describe how you're talking to me? Or is this just an instance where the rules don't apply to you?"

You take a heavy breath out of your nose and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping towards him and striking your hand across his cheek, trying to shut him up and ruin that ego of his.

He takes the impact of your hand across his cheek and doesn't move a muscle. There's a red mark on his face where you've hit him, but he doesn't make a sound, and his face remains blank and emotionless. For a moment his eyes narrow in slight pain; then, he just smiles again, and the look of smugness returns, stronger than before.

"Is that all you have?" he asks, his voice still tempting you. "I expected a little more from you."

It’s just the two of you now in his office, and you quickly turn around to lock the door. When you turn back to him, you’re looming over his sat figure and grabbing him by the collar of his dress shirt.

“I am sick and fucking tired of the way you act so high and mighty, Spencer. You’re nothing but an ego inflated asshole.” Your free hand raises and slaps him once more, and you relish in the way his head jerks to the side.

Once again, he doesn't even protest when you slap him, and just looks at you with that same smug, condescending expression, letting you vent. It's enough to make you even more furious, and there's a part of you that's getting more and more frustrated by his calm, collected response.

In that way, it feels like he's winning. He smirks, as if reading your mind, and responds in that same calm and collected tone.

"Keep going," he says, not moving an inch even though you're gripping him tightly. "Get it out of your system." 

You’re too clouded by anger to notice the slight tilt of desperation in his tone, and you listen to him, raising your hand and smacking his cheek as hard as you possibly can.

His head jerks to the side again with the force of your slap, but once again, he doesn't move or try to stop you. You might start to think he's enjoying this, if it wasn't for the slightly pained expression on his face whenever you hit him. You're tempted to just keep going, because it feels like you're at least getting your revenge out. There's no one else around, no one to stop you - you could do whatever you wanted.

Before he can let another obnoxious word out of that smug mouth of his, you let go of his shirt and push him back into the chair. The hand that was holding him strikes him in the opposite direction, and you can feel the sting in your hand with how hard you slapped him. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your lungs would give out with how hard you were breathing.

Reid's head flies to the side, and he lets out a tiny yelp of surprise as you push him back into his chair and slap him again. His glasses slightly fall down his nose, and he pushes them back up as he tries to get himself under control. You can see anger flickering underneath that mask of calm again, and that urge to keep going starts to bubble back up.

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms and look down at him with the same smug expression he’s been sporting for the past 30 minutes.

“What happened? No shitty comment to make about me? No condescending words? You were so talkative before.” Your voice is absolutely dripping with rage, and you can feel yourself getting angrier and angrier as you speak.

His eyes narrow just a little, but he still doesn't move or try to speak. Instead, he just regards you with that same condescending look as before, as if waiting for you to be done. You feel no remorse or sympathy for the way you've just treated him.

Do you feel proud? He certainly deserves it, and he knew that better than anyone.

Finally, Spencer speaks - he lets out a deep, tired sigh as he looks up at you. His voice is still quiet, and his expression is neutral. "You done throwing your tantrum?"

You let out an angry laugh at the audacity he has and look away from him before pointing at him in an accusatory way.

“You can just never get enough, huh? Always teasing me, pushing me over the edge, and still, you want more.. What is your problem?”

You had really thought those slaps would break him, make him shut up, but you were severely wrong.

He leans back in this chair, one eyebrow raised in an expression of disbelief. He looks at you for a solid moment, studying you with that same arrogant, superior look. When he finally speaks, you can feel the disdain in his voice.

"Me?"

He says, raising both eyebrows.

"What kind of person asks what someone else's problem is, right after they physically assault them multiple times?" The irony in his tone is thick; you know it, and he knows it, and he's daring you to respond to it. 

“The same person who knows just how much they enjoyed it.” You dryly say, and stare down at him with a knowing look. It had taken you a while, but you realized he wasn’t just egging you on for no reason.. No. He was enjoying the way you hurt him.

That smug expression on his face falters just a little bit when you speak. His eyes go wide with surprise, and he tilts his head to the side, not expecting that at all. He clears his throat, trying to collect himself again. It takes him a moment, and he doesn't respond right away..

"And why do you think I enjoy it?" His voice is lower now, and quiet, barely louder than a whisper. It's a different kind of intensity than before. He really wants to know, and he'll stop at nothing to get that answer.

You raise your chin to gesture towards himself, and your eyes flicker down to the blatant show of arousal in his pants. The poor fabric of his slacks was being pushed beyond capacity, and you wouldn’t be surprised if any minute now the threads would start ripping over that bulge of his. 

“Tight dress pants really aren’t your friend, Reid.”

Spencer’s eyes shoot wide, and his breath hitches. He looks down at himself for a moment, then he looks back at you, his eyes wide and his face suddenly, deeply red. He's a little bit flustered, and he seems to be at a loss for words for a moment..

Then he regains his composure, giving you a little wink and tilting his head a little bit as he speaks. The smugness is back in his voice, that self-assuredness like he had forgotten his embarrassment all together.

"You could just say you enjoy it too, you know?"

You scoff.

“Of course I do, why wouldn't I enjoy taking my anger out on you. You deserve it.”

He gives you a little grin in response and lets out a little laugh, clearly amused at that. "Well, at least you're honest." He leans forward in his chair again. 

"Now, I have an idea. You keep saying I deserve it, right? So, why'd you stop? I deserve some more, don't you think?" He smirks again, and you can practically see the smugness building up under the surface. It wasn't just smugness, no, it was arousal. He was tempting you, and it was working. 

It pissed you off to see him enjoying this so much, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but like it. After taking a few moments to think to yourself, you nod.

“Stand up.”

Spencer gets up from his chair, standing over you, and he looks down at you, still with that complacent expression. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting patiently for you to do something next. Your heart starts to throb in your chest again. Something about the way he's waiting for you to act, and the anticipation in the air, brings that same excitement back in you.. But it's a little bit more intense this time. You're not sure why yet, though.

You can see him open his mouth to say something, but you’re quick to slap him to shut him up before he can even think of speaking again.

“Shut the fuck up.”

His ghost of words are cut short by your slap, and he grunts slightly from the force of your blow. His head flies to the side again, before he just regards you once more with that same cocky expression. The arrogance in his energy and the tension between you two is thick in the air now - more so than before. You can feel it building up between the two of you, like the tension is almost too much to handle.

"More," he begs simply. "Harder."

Your face twists in a wicked smirk at his words, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Spencer Reid, renowned genius who thinks he knows everything.. Is nothing but a fucking slut.” 

You accentuate your words with another blow to his cheek with your hand.

You strike him again, and you can see his smile grow as his head reels to the side again and his breath hitches. There's a hint of pink on his cheek where you've hit him, as his face heats up with the sudden excitement. He lets out a quiet laugh at your words, then shakes his head. 

"Keep talking like that.." He moves closer to you, his smile growing, that amused gleam in his eyes. "You're just getting me worked up."

You can practically feel your heart stop at his words, and despite knowing exactly how he is, you were surprised with how forward his comment was.

“That’s why you enjoy our fights so much, isn’t it?” Your voice is low as you look up at him with narrowed eyes. “It gets you off that I’m so mean to you, doesn’t it?”

Spencer’s smile shifts a little bit, now an obvious, hungry grin spreading across his face. He moves in ever closer to you, not moving his hands from where they are. He looks back at you, his dark eyes piercing and insistent with that same smug look, an obvious tease and taunt, his ego starting to take over again.

He lets out another soft laugh, his breath heavy– and he speaks just as low as you did, "And what if it does?"

You can feel his breath between the two of you because of how close he was to you now, and you huff through your nose in amusement.

“Then I’d say you’re nothing but a whore.”

Your taunt only makes his grin grow wider, and his eyes light up with excitement. Then, with one swift movement, he moves his hands up from behind his back. He grabs you before you can even react, pulling you in even closer to him, so that your faces are so close you could kiss.

His eyes are lit up, his face flushed with excitement as he looks down at you - and the self-assured grin of confidence he has is practically all you can see.

"Say it again."

Your eyes flicker don’t to his lip, and you can’t conceal the way you nervously swallow at how close he is to you now. 

“You, are nothing but a fucking whore, Spencer.”

Your voice is slightly shaky, but he doesn’t seem to notice. When you repeat your taunt, his grin grows even wider. His eyes flit back up to yours, and you can see that satisfaction in them– the sense of pride that he's gotten one up on you. He leans in just enough that your faces are practically touching - and then, he grabs you with both hands, and pulls you in close by your jaw. Before you can even register what's happening, he kisses you, his lips pressing against yours– and it's not gentle, and it's not soft, but hard and possessive.

Your eyes immediately flutter shut as his lips collide into yours in an aggressive, passion filled kiss. Anger and arousal was seeping into your veins as you kissed him back with just as much force as he was.

His arms tighten around you when you kiss him back, and his lips press against yours more aggressively as you respond, returning your kiss. He breathes hard and presses himself into you– the two of you are so close you feel like you could mold into each other. Despite everything, there's no denying how intimate this is, how intense.. Even the feelings of anger and hurt are overshadowed by the pure adrenaline and need of this moment.

As you push him back against a wall, your frantic hands blindly find the buckle of his belt, and you make quick work to take it off of him, and Spencer pulls himself even closer to you, leaning in hard as he kisses you passionately.

The belt falls down to the floor with a clatter, your hands getting tangled up in it a little before you take it off, and then you two are locked into each other, the only sounds to be heard are his heavy breathing and the steady beating of your hearts. It's intense; they're pounding in your chest so hard you feel like it's physically pushing you closer to him.

When your hands find the waist of his pants, you’re undoing the zipper as quickly as possible and pushing them down his thighs. You sigh into his mouth as you slot your tongue between his lips.

Spencer breaks the kiss, but doesn't pull back entirely– you still see that desperate, needful look in his eyes as he watches you do that.

"Need something?" He smirks, a teasing timbre in his voice, and he shifts his arms so that his hands are firmly on your hips - the same arrogant, teasing look he's been giving you the whole time. He knows what you're trying to do. 

“You.”

Is all you say before you’re practically ripping his underwear down his body.

He seems to be caught off guard by your sudden forwardness. You manage to pull his underwear down easily enough, and he lets out a soft gasp when you do, a little bit of color flushing on his cheeks.

Then, for the first time all night, that smugness vanishes. He seems.. speechless, for just a second. The look in his eyes is still one of desperation, but you can see genuine surprise there too. He swallows hard, and then he speaks quietly.

"Okay."

You lower yourself to your knees in front of him with a smirk. The carpeted floor of his office scrapes against the fabric of your pants, but it only serves as a reminder just how painful this entire situation is.

“Got nothing else to say, Reid? That’s a first.”

He watches you, his breath hitches again as his eyes go wide.

"No.." he says, his voice a little breathless all the sudden. His face is flustered, his whole body tensing as your smirk grows. But before you can say anything else, he's speaking again.

"What are you waiting for?"

You lean in closer to him, and your breath ghosts over his already hard and dripping cock.

“For you to shut that smart mouth of yours..”

Spencer lets out a deep, shaky breath as you say that, and you can almost feel it when your breath touches him. He shivers a little bit at your touch, and his breath catches for a moment, before his eyes close and he leans his head back.

He's silent for a moment– and then, as if he couldn't help himself, he opens his eyes and lets that stupid grin take over his features again.

"Make me."

It's a taunt, a dare that he knows you won't be able to resist. 

You don’t entertain his words, but instead you just lean your head forward and encompass his entire length in your mouth, hoping it would serve as enough of a warning.

He makes a strangled sound when you do that, and he then lets out a soft, breathless moan. You can feel the urgency in him suddenly build, as the smugness disappears and he tenses up. He's barely breathing, the whole universe narrowing to the two of you at this moment. His eyes are shut tight, as if he can't even look at you at all.

Your mouth is warm and wet–so so wet around him, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out if he’s never experienced this feeling before. Your smile through your mouthful, and close your eyes as you slowly pull your lips up his shaft, moving over the tip and licking over the precum he’s been gushing ever since you pulled down those briefs of his. 

You pull back and off of him, then look up at him with wide teasing eyes.

“You know..” Wrapping your hands around him, you start to slowly, teasingly, drag them up and down his rock hard member. 

“You’re a lot more attractive when you’re not talking..” And you don’t give him another moment to think of responding before your hands leave him and your jaw goes slack as you take him into your mouth again.

Spencer slaps a hand over his mouth at the feeling, attempting to conceal the pathetic whimpers he was letting out right now. He was more concerned with not letting you know how much he was enjoying this, rather than being caught by anyone still in the building. 

His eyes roll back in his head before he can think about it any longer. Shaky moans push themselves through trembling fingers, and he can almost feel his legs giving out under him. 

One of your hands is holding him steady at the base of his cock, and each time you push your head forward to take him down your throat, you can feel your spit and his arousal sticking to your fingers. 

He’s big, which was a shocker to say the least. He felt heavy against your tongue, and filled your mouth like no problem. Usually guys like him that were all talk, that felt the need to use their large ego to overcompensate, sported less than impressive dicks. 

But Spencer, Spencer.. You’d let the way you could feel his cock in your neck each time you throated him do the talking. You could barely move your tongue to swirl around the veins that lined his length, and you could feel the back of your throat already bruising with how big he was. 

The sloppiness of it all is disgusting, and god do neither of you care. You can’t find it in you to care that your lipstick was smearing all over your lips and flesh of his cock, and he can’t find it in him to care that every time you swallowed him whole, pools of spit dripped down onto his leather shoes. 

“F-Fuck me..” 

The man above you all but whined out. You couldn’t tell if it was an expression of the pure euphoria coursing through his body, or if it was simply a request. You took it as the latter, knowing your response would annoy him either way. 

Pulling back from his shaft, you bring a hand up to wipe your mouth. A useless task, really, you know it’d only be a few more moments before you’d be covered in your own drool again. 

“Don’t think you deserve that yet, thought you hated me, pretty boy? What happened?” 

Your hand at his base starts to pull up his length, and back down, you repeated this same torturous pattern as your voice dripped with faux interest, you didn’t care what he had to say, you just enjoyed teasing him far too much. 

Spencer removes the hand that was draped over his mouth and practically slams it down against the wall behind him, scratching at it as if it would bring him any strength right now. 

“O-Oh.. B-But you th–think I deserve this? Thought you hated me..” 

You clicked your tongue in response, he was right, and you were finally fine with admitting it. The makeshift hole you’ve made with your fingers comes up the tip of his cock, and you tighten your fist around it. There’s a grotesque squelching noise as you squeeze a mix of your spit and his precum under your grip. 

“You do deserve this.. Not because I think you’re overdue for something like this.. Or because I have a little crush on you..”

Your grip only tightens with each taunting word that leaves your lips. His knees buckle underneath him at the sensation and you watch as his pupils are suddenly disappearing under those pleasure ridden eyelids of his. 

“Because, I bet that brain of yours is full of nothing but mush right now, isn’t that right?” 

Spencer reluctantly nods as he whimpers and you can feel the warm spurt of precum he shoots out at your words. 

“You deserve this, because I want nothing more to prove to you that you are nothing but a desperate, worthless, stupid, slut.” 

With each insult that shot into him, you paired it with an equally harsh stroke of his sensitive head. Wet noises filled the room and your ears as your fist moved over him faster than you’ve ever seen anything move. 

“I-I’m.. Oh–Oh my–fuck..” 

The feeling against the sensitive underside of his cock has him almost keeling over your body in pleasure, and he lets out the most desperate, pathetic whine you’ve ever heard. 

“Isn’t that right, Reid?”

And to your surprise, his head is frantically nodding before you can even finish your sentence. He tries to babble something out, but his words are unintelligible as he’s battling with his moans and whimpers for a place to be heard. 

His body is folded over at this point, but you’re determined to break him as much as you can for the time being, so you lean in closer to him when he tries to pull his hips away. You’re not even touching the rest of his length, you’re just solely focusing on abusing the soaked head as he cries and tries to beg for mercy.

“Please, please, please..” 

Is all you can make out through his noises before you can feel his hips stutter and still as you feel your fist fill with his piping hot release. You let out a small moan of surprise of your own at the feeling of him quickly pumping his cum into your grip, and look up at him. 

You’re met with wide eyes looking down at you, and shaking fingers covering his mouth the best he could. His glasses were fogged over slightly from how sweaty and hot his skin was. He was trembling above you, barely able to hold himself up at this point anymore. It was like he was just as surprised as you were to see his cum spurting out of his cock and spilling from your hands. 

And surely, after months of pent up anger and hatred between the two of you, also brings pent up, everything. You feel like it’s an eternity before his hips finally stop stuttering and his cock stops pulsing and shooting out webs of cum like he’s getting paid for it. 

Pulling back from his spent length, you can’t help but laugh at how much of the thick fluid there was. It was coating your palm and dripping off of his tip, almost weighing down his cock with how much there was. 

“Jesus.. look at you, Reid. You always make this much of a mess?”

Your words seem to make him all the redder, and as realization hits you the longer he stays quiet, both your eyebrow and your lips quirk up. 

“Don’t tell me..”

Spencer’s chest heaved up and down as he closed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. He shook his head and his mouth went dry as he spoke.

“Alright, then I won’t.” 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re laughing in his face in disbelief. Your head bows down in amusement. 

“You’re just on a roll today with how pathetic you can get, huh?” 

He just stays silent and lets you tease him, hoping that you’d be done soon and you can go back to hating each other like you always do. With one last chuckle, you stand up off your knees and look at him in his blissed out eyes, motioning towards your soiled hands. 

“Make yourself useful for once and help me clean up, would you?”

[leafy-m]

Because I'm autistic and because I love Witch Hat Atelier Kitchen, I page-by-page compared the recent Kodansha USA English release of volume 1 to its Japanese and fan-translated counterparts.

If you've read the official English translation, you may have noticed that some of the big Orufrey moments are.... a bit underwhelming, word-wise. You may have even noticed that the word "wine" is suspiciously missing from the final chapter's WillowGrape Wine recipe, in which wine is kind of an important and obvious factor in it! And you would be correct!

While most of this manga volume is pretty accurate to the original text, there is absolutely a concentrated effort to tone down the more tender Orufrey moments, as well as minimize the alcoholic nature of the final chapter's recipe and related contraptions.

And that's frustrating!

The entire draw of this manga spin-off is seeing these gay witch dads take care of each other and their four daughters in an idyllic countryside setting while also making yummy food that you the reader can try make too. Why is Kodansha USA trying to no-homo these gays?? (Is this a reflection of how bad things are in the USA now?) And while you might say, "But Jade! Qifrey and Olruggio are not actually dating in canon!" — and I would agree with you! But there is nothing straight about these mens' behavior in this comic, and if Qifrey is going to look in Olruggio's direction while tenderly saying his name in Nearly Every Chapter, I expect to read that in English, dammit!

So I'm activating my autism trap card and presenting ya'll with a thorough comparison of every mistranslated and omitted Orufrey or wine moment, complete with discussion and screenshots from the Japanese, fan-translated, and USA English versions. This post is ridiculously long and maxed Tumblr's 30-image limit so chapter 10's discussion is actually in a reblog (sob sob), so I'm putting it all under a cut (you're welcome), and you can be sure that I'll be doing this again if need be for the translated volumes releasing next year.

For now? Let's go.

CHAPTER 1: pg 10

Japanese: フフ...

Fan translated: Heh heh

English version: Ahh...

This is a small moment, but it's important because it's foreshadowing. Qifrey is "airing out" the kitchen, but what he's really doing is sending those delicious smells into Olruggio's room. He's trying to lure him into the kitchen! And that little フフ/heh heh panel is evidence that he's up to something. If you've noticed in the main series, whenever Qifrey is doing something shady or it has a double-meaning, the 'camera angle' focuses on this side of his face with the dark lens.

But the English version obfuscates this by changing フフ to "Ahh..." like, 'isn't that better,' even though it keeps the ellipsis thought bubble indicating that something is up. Why the mixed messaging?

CHAPTER 1: pg 13

Japanese: オルーギオ!

Fan translated: Orugio!

English version: Excellent!

This is the first of many moments where Qifrey will directly say Olruggio's name, and yet the English version will translate it to something else, or drop it entirely. And no, "there wasn't enough room" is not a valid excuse for most of these. Especially when Olruggio's name can (and often is) shortened to Olly.

Look at Olruggio's little smirk at making Qifrey beam happily like that. My God. Kodansha USA/translator Stephen Kohler, why would you take this from us.

CHAPTER 1: pg 14

Japanese: 二人共 今日も一日　お疲れ様でした!

Fan translated: These two people are together tonight. Another day's work well done, you two!

English version: Here's to another long day... ...and a well-earned break!

The omnipresent narrator from the beginning of the chapter is back, and clearly highlighting that 'these two people' are together tonight. And yet the English version removes all that. It may be redundant since we can see they're together in the illustration, but the whole page has that type of text redundancy, like focusing on 'eating that first bite,' or how 'a laugh bubbles up' with Qifrey. And combined with all of the other later omissions, this becomes an obvious trend of targeting these specific types of moments.

Update: Thanks to Farlynthordens for additional insight on this Japanese phrase!:

二人共: (the) two of you [the "tomo" implies the narrator is talking "to" them rather than "about" them] futari-tomo means in a literal sense "(you) two people who are together", but in terms of actual usage/definition it's just identifying a specific pair of people who the speaker is talking to.

今日も一日お疲れ様でした: the rest of this can't really be separated. this whole phrase is meant to be like "good work for all the things you did over the course of this whole day". the fan translation seems to have not understood that the two text blocks were meant to be all one sentence. so if you put this all together, it's like "Good work for everything today, guys!"

Knowing this, I'll still keep it as part of the list because it does omit addressing the two of them in the English version, which follows that trend of minimizing these moments between them. But thank you for the clarity! 💕

CHAPTER 2: pg 28

Japanese:　料理も魔法器も相手のことを一番に考えるのは　君の美德だね　半分ずつだ オルーギオ

Fan translated: Whether you're cooking or performing magic, you always think of others before yourself. It just goes to show your good character. We'll share it, Olruggio.

English version: I've always admired that about you. Whether in your work of in the kitchen... ...You always think of others' needs before your own. All right. Let's split it, then.

The English version has two mistranslations here. I'll start at the top. In it, Qifrey is observing how Olruggio puts others first, and then compliments how it shows his good character. The 'good character' bit is changed to "I've always admired that about you," which at first I thought was sweet! Points for Kohler. But now that I really look at it, there is still some shady translating happening here.

In writing and communicating, what is said last has the most importance. This is how people "bury the lede," by hiding important information in the early part of a speech or amid other sentences, and then distracting them with other stuff.

In that English version top panel, even though Qifrey is complimenting Olruggio, by having it be said first it makes the second speech bubble (and therefore Olruggio's flustered response) be about Qifrey remarking on Olruggio's own behavior, rather than Qifrey's nice compliment about his character. Which changes the meaning of what's going on here. Olly is not flustering because he puts others first, he's flustering because Qifrey is saying something really nice about him, right to his face!

And then of course, in the bottom panel, Qifrey saying Olruggio's name is once again removed.

And I have to say, this bothers me not just because of autistic AcCUraCY! needs, but because he is very specifically saying his name. They are the only people in the room, it's very clear who Qifrey is addressing, and yet here he is once again, putting that man's name in his mouth.

It is intentional.

It is heartfelt.

STOP REMOVING IT!

CHAPTER 3: pg 36 and 37

Japanese: (Olruggio): キーフリー それいらないならこっちに..してくれ (Qifrey): オルーギオ　ひとつおねがい!

Fan translated: (Olruggio): Qifrey, if you won't be needing those, send them my way. (Qifrey): One pot please, Olruggio!

English version: (Olruggio): Mind if I grab those breadcrumbs from ya? I'm gonna use 'em as a binder for the patties. (Qifrey): Could you bring that pot over here for me?

This is a sweet segment because it shows how well Qifrey and Olruggio work in tandem in the kitchen. As someone who has repeatedly failed at working harmonically with others while making food, them being in sync in the kitchen is more fantastical than the actual magic.

And once again, Olruggio and Qifrey saying each other's names are removed. The Olruggio panel translation is also a bit misleading because (as you can see in the larger fan-translated photo), it's Qifrey who is controlling that wind spell! Olruggio is not "grabbing" the breadcrumbs from him, it's Qifrey who is sending them to him. It also lends to the back-and-forth of these moments because as soon as Olly's done with that pot, he gives it to Qifrey to use.

CHAPTER 3: pg 41

Japanese: ありがとうオルーギオ　行ってきます

Fan translated: Thank you, Olruggio. We'll see you later.

English version: Thank you, my friend. We'll be on our way now.

We're now at the part of the manga where Qifrey saying Olruggio's name is changed to "my friend" in the English version. Which is a phrase I'll admit I have some Daevabad baggage with, so idk, is this some platonic ray-beaming or is it code for tender feelings for that person you like but aren't ready to date yet because of trauma and societal complications? Is Stephen Kohler a Daevabad fan? So many unknowns. Still counting it as a wrong though.

CHAPTER 4: pg 56

Japanese: (Olruggio): ま... 眩しくて眠れやしない (Qifrey): がんばれ! オルーギオ

Fan translated: (Olruggio): Really... I can't sleep with all this shimmering... (Qifrey): Do your best! Olruggio.

English version: (Olruggio): Hmph. How's a man supposed to get some sleep with this thing sparklin' away over here? (Qifrey): Keep at it... ...my friend.

Qifrey literally made a bouquet of rose-shaped tarts for Olruggio to cheer up his room, so of course the English translation needs to tamp down that gayness by unnecessarily bringing up Olruggio's manhood when he complains about not being able to sleep from the tarts' sparkling. Even though this chapter's cover image is of Olruggio sitting in a field of flowers, pondering quietly as he holds one in his hand. Maybe later chapters will have Olruggio edited so he's sitting 5 feet away from Qifrey.

And again, Qifrey saying Olruggio's name in the bottom panel is changed to "my friend" in the English version.

CHAPTER 6: pg 95

Japanese: いい出来だろ? 家事の分担が大変だなんて思ってたら こんなものは作れねえぜ

Fan translated: Turned out pretty good, right? If I really thought sharing the housework was a pain, then I couldn't make something like this.

English version: Whaddya think? Not bad, huh? Sorry for leavin' you stuck with all the chores these last few days. I figure this is the least I can do.

Of all the mistranslations, this one bothers me the most. Olruggio is a wonderful malewife! He is constantly trying to help Qifrey out with the Atelier chores, in Kitchen and the main series. And yet the English translation changes the entire context of what these panels are saying.

The right panel is Olruggio proud of how good the soup tastes (it's even in a fancy bread bowl!), and yet the English translation downplays it by saying, 'Not bad, huh?'

Then the left panel, with it's sparkly background and close-up on Olly's face, goes further into how if he thought helping out with the housework was a pain, he wouldn't be capable of making stuff like this. Which is an understated way of saying that Qifrey can rely on him for things like this. (and he says it more outright in other chapters/the main series) But instead the English version is treating this soup like it's an apology for not helping out more. It's also really stupid because Olruggio was not making the soup as 'the least he could do' for Qifrey — he made it because he was hungry and wanted to eat it now! He literally admits this a few pages back!

Olruggio is not someone trying to do the bare minimum, he's someone trying to tell his control-freak of a friend that he wants to share in helping out. And the English version disappointingly misrepresents that here.

CHAPTER 10! Has several issues both Orufrey and wine related, and has several comparison segments. But because I maxed out Tumblr's 30-image limit, I can't include it here and so have to post it in a reblog. UGH. 😔

(Here is the link to the Chapter 10 comparison/discussion!)

In the meantime, image credits! The Japanese scans are from Comic-Days.com, the fan scanlations are thanks to Don't Quit Your Day Job, Robot Garden Scans, Brimhats/Nyaruhodou, and Kirbypoyopoyo, and the English version photos are from my own copy. And thank you AskeFinns for help with reading Chapter 2's kanji 💖

If chapters weren't mentioned, it's because I didn't notice anything significant enough to comment on. But if you know of something I missed, do let me know! And thanks for reading this far!

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 7)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway :)

Warnings: Suggestive themes aaaaandd a little of that internalize homophobia again

Author's Note: NO BETA BC THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GOOD LORD IM SORRY FOLKS! I moved and started a new job and I leave for Europe in a week so life has been NUTS

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Melissa led the way through the front doors of the hotel. You could tell she was excited by the highly animated way in which she spoke to you. She used her hands and fingers to gesture to you and she lingered close to you with her last word, “This weekend is about three things: the endless buffet, laying by the pool, and sex.”

The corners of your lips rose as her lips neared your own. There were still a few inches between you, but you knew that was plenty close for a place as public as a hotel lobby, “In that order too?”

Your response made the redhead laugh as both of her hands squeezed your bicep. You lost yourself for a moment while you watched her grin at you. It was the voice of a man that unfortunately ripped her eyes from you, “Melissa?” 

As she turned to face the voice, her red hair flicked over her shoulder with the spin of her head. When her eyes landed on the familiar face of her ex boyfriend, her smile faded, but her tone remained polite, “Hey, Gare.”

A brief silence fell between the former lovers (as did a thick awkwardness), and you waited patiently for one of them to speak up. Gary was the first to break the silence when he noticed Melissa’s eyes wander over to the brunette at his side, “Oh, this is my girlfriend - Lea Ann”

Melissa only nodded, remaining silent and giving a faux smile to the lofty man. It was when he realized Melissa had very little interest engaging with Gary and Lea Ann that Gary decided to turn his attention to you. With a kind smile, he reached out his hand, offering it to you along with his name, “Gary.”

“Y/N.” You return the smile and handshake, surprised at the way his face lit up at hearing your name.

“Mel told me about you when we were dating.” He quipped while wrapping his arm around Lea Ann’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. He seemed genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance - it made you wonder why Melissa refused to commit to something more serious with him.

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down at Melissa and then back to Gary again, “Did she now?”

Gary was highly enthusiastic with how he spoke to you, recalling memories Melissa had shared with him months ago, “Of course. You were her date to the senior prom after some punk ditched her.”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure in knowing Melissa had talked about you in her previous relationship. You had always assumed she would have kept even your friendship a secret. With a great big smile, you bump your shoulder against hers lightly, “I mean, how could I say no to a face like that?”

Melissa gave a reluctant smile, changing the subject away from your relationship, “What are you guys doin’ out here?”

Gary eagerly squeezed Lea Ann to his side once more and beamed at her. The brunette shifted into his side, wrapping an arm behind his back to better lean against him. It was clear they were enamored with one another, “Early anniversary trip. Lea Ann and I met at Dave & Busters not too long after we broke up. She is real good at skeeball.” 

Lea Ann added to the conversation with a shy voice, “How about you guys?”

“A trip for old times’ sake.” Melissa’s response contained a tone that was anything other than warm. While some might not have noticed, you saw her turn snarky and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. It was obvious to you Melissa was offended by what she thought was Lea Ann’s ‘nosiness’. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, indicating she was finished with the conversation.

Gary knew Mel well enough to give a curt nod and guide Lea Ann away from you both, “Well, I hope you two have a great time.’

“Yeah, you too.” Your voice fell as they walked away - knowing full well Melissa would be upset at this interaction when you arrived at the hotel room.

—

You shifted awkwardly near the door of the hotel room. Melissa had abandoned her luggage in the middle of the room and tossed her purse on the bed before dropping into the chair into the corner to scroll on her phone. She seemed increasingly detached from you since you had spoken to Gary. 

While the detachment made you furious, you gave her a chance to tell you how she was feeling before you spiraled, “Everything okay?”

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she replied. If anything, she seemed annoyed that you would even ask such a question, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Biting your tongue, you turn your back to her with a huff and tug open the door, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

—

You twist the glass of dark liquor in your hand, mindlessly watching the ice swirl about in the liquid. A fire had been lit in your stomach at the realization that nothing had changed between Melissa and you. She still refused to admit her feelings for you or the opposite sex. Of course you were infuriated, but it was more of a rage fueled sadness had you refusing to look at Melissa who sat (im)patiently next to you. 

“You gotta work with me here. It’s one thing to take a weekend away together, but it’s a whole other thing to be tellin’ people that we are a couple.” Melissa sounded colder than she would have wanted, but there was no taking the words back now. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second.

It was clear Melissa didn’t truly understand why you were upset with the entire situation. With a deep sigh, you chose to explain your feelings to her, “I don’t mind that we aren’t official or whatever. I don’t even care that this is so casual. I just can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“It isn’t like that.” 

Her reply was quick, but you weren’t convinced. “Melissa… Anytime someone gets remotely close to the truth, you get all spooked and then I have to deal with the consequences.”

The redhead chewed at the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say to you. She remained facing forward, her fingers absentmindedly ripping at the napkin placed in front of her by the bartender. Mel furrowed her brow as she spoke, “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Either way... You know how I feel about you... how I have always felt about you, and I-” In an instant, you regret opening your mouth. You could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks from the corner of your eye. As always, you had gotten ahead of yourself, and now it was time for you to finish explaining your emotions before Melissa found a way to steer the conversation away from the vulnerability it was currently steeped in, “For me, it feels like you’re ashamed... of me, and it’s not a great feeling.”

Melissa glared at you for a few moments, and then you saw her left hand reach out to hold you by the back of the neck to pull your lips to hers. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you felt Mel’s teeth teasing your bottom lip and her right hand creep up to the middle of your thigh.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, her voice was low, “I’m sorry I made ya’ feel that way. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Regardless of the people sitting all around, you dove back in for another kiss. You felt her melting into you. With every second you kissed her, Melissa inched closer to the point in which she had slipped off her chair to stand between your knees. Her hands braced against your thighs and breasts pressed to your chest. 

The redhead was breathing heavily when she finally drew her lips away from yours. She had turned her head to glance around the room in search of prying eyes when you buried your nose in her hair. 

After Melissa’s worries of being watched were soothed by the absence of onlookers, she turned back to you, capturing your face in her hands. She spoke in a low tone which caused you to swallow hard, “Let’s go upstairs, hon.” She took your hand, tugging you along after her towards the hotel lobby. 

The deafening chorus of casino games, live music, and both winning and losing gamblers was all but a mere whisper to you the moment Melissa peered over her shoulder at you with a smile - a smile that only confirmed your long standing love for her.  

When she had you in the elevator, you were up against the wall before the door was closed with her mouth against yours. Mel was busy trailing her lipstick from your lips to your neck as you choked out a dizzied concern, “We are... going to miss our... uh, dinner reservations.”

“Where at?” Melissa was far too busy tasting your collarbone to give much attention to the thought of going out for dinner. She was far more interested in getting you up to your hotel room to get more acquainted with the hotel bed.

“Some fancy steakhouse.” You murmur before returning her fervor. By now the elevator doors were shut and neither of you had given much more thought to pressing a button to get the elevator moving. Instead you were more consumed with the urge to turn the tables on Melissa and press her against the elevator wall. 

Melissa’s hands were woven tightly into your hair as you pinned her to the wall. Your force only propelled her further into the raging desire she felt for you. Mel didn’t need to use any words to convey how much she needed you. Everything about your kisses was sloppy and steeped in desire. 

She allowed one of her hands to wander to the back of your neck as your lips drifted down her neck to her cleavage. The redhead held you tight with one arm while the other clumsily reached to illuminate the button to floor 15, “We can just order pizza.”

Her efforts to get the elevator headed towards your floor weren’t swift enough. The elevator dinged and the doors to the lobby parted, allowing a familiar tall, bald headed man and his brunette girlfriend onto the elevator with you both. 

With the introduction of Gary and Lea-Ann onto the elevator, Mel and you partially parted. She kept an arm around you with a hand resting on your hip and her body was pressed to yours as she suppressed a coy smile. Melissa raised a manicured hand to her lips, attempting to tidy her smeared lipstick with her thumb. All the while she stared at you down like a starved lion. 

Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. It took everything in you not to confess your love then and there. She was beautiful like this - seemingly liberated of her shame and enthralled with the premise of being caught in such a public act of affection. 

Gary was obviously confused by your closeness and he cocked his head, needing to double check to see if it was really Melissa who was really pinned into the corner of the elevator by you, “Melissa?”

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. You attempted to move your hands from her waist, but her hand caught your wrist to prevent you from pulling away. 

The elevator devolved into silence as it began moving to the upper floors. You couldn’t see the looks on Gary or Lea-Ann’s faces as you were too busy watching every shift in Melissa’s expressions. You wondered if this would be the end of your relationship. Your heart was pounding and you were growing anxious at the thought of the potential rejection headed your way. The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was Melissa’s manicured hand on the back of your neck, softly twirling your loose locks between her digits. 

Her eyes flickered between the rising elevator numbers, your company, and the elevator doors. Melissa was terrified of who Gary could tell. Through all of her family and friends, she knew this moment could reach someone she knew in a matter of hours. Her personal fears were being slowly subdued by her own willpower. As her eyes drifted back up to your face, they were now filled with a subtle determination to prove herself to you. 

Melissa pushed against your abdomen so you would step aside, but she kept both hands on you as she talked to Gary, “How’s your night goin’?”

“Good. I- I didn’t know you two were-” Gary couldn’t hide an ounce of his confusion at seeing you together. 

“Together? Yeah, well... Now you know.” The redhead finished his sentence before adding her own bit of attitude at the end of her thought. A lump formed in the back of her throat at admitting your relationship out loud, but there was no taking it back now. 

While Melissa was dealing with her own inner turmoil, you were relishing in the fact that Melissa described you two as being ‘together’. You were riding that high even after the elevator stopped on your floor and Mel took your hand to pull you after her. 

It was Melissa who lifted your arm to place around her shoulders when you stepped off the elevator. She also turned back to face her ex boyfriend with a cheeky grin, “Have a good night you two.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

[sugar-grigri]

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

Guns, nails, katanas: I think it's interesting to read this title not just in terms of the chapter's construction, but as three notions serving the same idea, which is what we're going to develop. 

The chapter opens with the students, followers of the Church of Chainsaw Man, who don't really know what to do with their weapons. They weren't even aware that they had so many, which marks a continuity with the last chapter, when Nobana wasn't even aware that there were weapons.

Their reaction becomes the opposite when their superior gives them a reason to interpret the weapons differently - they're no longer guns in the hands of children, but a continuation of Chainsaw Man's message and power.

I think that's an easy interpretation to have, but it's one worth establishing for the sequel. The guns are only a third part of the reasoning, after all. 

When the fiend arrives on the scene, it's also interesting the moment and the way they's cut off. Strangely enough, the fire doesn't start until they begins to suggest that children shouldn't be holding weapons, as if someone wanted to prevent them from provoking an awakening of conscience. All symbolic, of course. 

I insist on the fact that the response of the weapons is instantaneous because in French the line is well cut (I read both versions because sometimes it helps me to have a re-reading on certain lines and I perceive better the indicators notably on the tone… And yes, you missed the fiend saying Ouh Là Ouh Là Là… )

The fiend seems to have a strong desire to protect children. Which gives us an idea of the demon they might embody. A common trait that could be given to fiends is that they are beings (and I say this with all the love I bear them) intellectually limited or rather who have a way of reasoning that is more animal and demonic (logical, they are demons they embody) than human.

Whether it's Power, who only reasoned through the prism of domination, or Beam, who considered himself Chainsaw Man's pupil and follower, the possessed reason strictly through hierarchy, or rather through a kind of food chain, which is typically bestial. 

Seeing what looks like a fiend, or even a devil, reasoning in terms of child protection induces the idea that they must have something to do with these children to reason in such an abstract way as child protection. 

Especially as it's something they embodies rather than understands themself, since they remains demonic, bashing in the skull of a child they themself wanted to protect, but had spoken to wrongly, as if this "lesson" were also part of his upbringing. 

That's why I interpret this fiend as harboring the devil of studies. Which is logical? It's one of the main fears of young people in particular, whether it's the choice of direction, exams, or even because it's related to the future, studies are a subject of anxiety. 

Particularly in a Japanese system in which the costs of studying are considerable, with university rankings that can be quite anxiety-provoking for high-school students. 

That's why this fiend is so revolted by the sight of children with weapons, and nails them to walls rather than brutally killing them all.

Moods and compassion are not necessarily inherent concepts in the fiends, even if they are capable of them, as we saw with Power.

But then again, if Power changed her behavior, it was only with regard to Denji and Aki, because they were part of her pack and her entourage, just like Meowy.

Sacrificing herself for Denji, even if she did in the end, was by no means obvious, hence the fact that there were several pages before her second death where she considered two options: her survival by helping Makima and her certain death to protect her brother. 

That's why the fiend's words are so strange and put me on the trail of the study demon.

Skull-hammering, or being overloaded with information and knowledge to be accumulated, is symbolized by this protruding brain. 

In the same way, the fact that the demon possessed has no eyes symbolizes the school system, whose aim is to develop students without actually seeing them. 

I was thinking about the hammer, but the title indicates that it's the nails we should be thinking about.

Hence the title of this analysis, which takes up a famous saying :

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

Obviously, this saying alone cannot reflect the complexity of Japanese society, which is sometimes even used as a caricature by the Western media. 

Nevertheless, without falling into caricature, it symbolizes a simple idea: Japanese society, unlike Western society, puts the collective before the individual. 

This doesn't mean that the individual is completely erased, but that he is encouraged to consider his behavior from a more global angle, one that transcends himself. 

It's simply a saying that can be understood as advice: if you step out of line, you can expect to encounter more difficulties.

This is as true for a Japanese society as it is for a Western one. I'm not establishing any hierarchy of values.

Hence the nails, which freeze individuals where they belong. 

That's why this possessed person has an aversion to seeing students with guns: it's not just for protection, it's also for compartmentalization. Society doesn't give students the role of assailants; their role is to have a criterion in their hands. 

We continue with this superior, who also happens to be possessed by the demon of justice. His posture is not only interesting in that it's a completely instrumentalized justice in the sense that it puts children in danger for a better purpose, but it's above all the thesis of necessary evil, i.e. fighting evil with evil. 

If human morality were to be summed up, it would be through this maxim: preventing wars with wars, protecting like Chainsaw Man while endangering students - that's the whole human contradiction.

So, of course, the fiend find him vain when he argues that he is the best incarnation of justice.

It's typical of man to imagine himself superior to other species. 

We end on Katana, who arrives with a cutaway (which I loved) to declare that there's no justice with Chainsaw Man. 

So, in one line, we put back in place all the originality of this character, and I find it incredible. 

This line is both true and ironic!

True, because Chainsaw Man humiliated him by killing his grandfather, winning against him and beating his private parts with Aki to avenge Himeno. 

But above all, Katana Man has been brought up among the Yakuza, who he believes are governed by the same principles as his grandfather, to the point where he firmly clings to this position.

Katana Man hasn't evolved at all on this issue .

Ironic, given that Katana Man's grandfather was Denji's debt collector, the man who ended up ordering the overindebtedness and dismemberment of a child.

Indeed, Denji has no idea what justice is, for his life is profoundly unjust, whether it's being indebted for his father's misdeeds or dying prematurely. 

Above all, he doesn't take justice into his own hands; Denji didn't take revenge on Aki and Power with Makima, he saved her, just as he pursues his own personal goals of killing demons; they don't slaughter demons to bring justice to all those unjust deaths, he fights because they turn him on, he's an instrument, not a vigilante. 

What the chapter speaks to in these three themes is the whole paradox of protection, whether it's seeking justice through the church by sending children as gunpowder.

Whether it's trying to protect these children by enclosing them in a school system.

Whether it's protecting ideals that are unfounded. 

Once again we follow the analysis of the last time, public hunters choose weapons or possessions that limit the damage to the teenagers who constitute the nation's precious asset. The church uses children as a kind of barrier, not because they think they're good soldiers, but because they're moral barriers. So they send a possessed man convinced that he's protecting the children.

Or a weapon who thinks he still has a man's heart.

It's not just a clash between the two camps; it's also a battle for public approval.

Katana Man and Chainsaw Man are two sides of the same coin, the same story. While one has known a loving grandfather whom he loves so much that he closes himself off in denial (to the point of always refuting Denji's version that he murdered his grandfather as a zombie, even though the only legacy he left him was a zombie weapon), the other has known the monster and has therefore not internalized concepts such as love, compassion or justice.

Katana Man is a weapon who has been instrumentalized by the Yakuza, and is still deluding himself to find meaning in his existence, while Denji is one of the few weapons living strictly for himself at the moment.

He's the only one who truly follows his heart !

[thebibliosphere]

Hello Joy! If you're up for it, I've got a question for you. I've started writing a new story that I set in a world based on 1500's Scotland and I wanted the main characters to have Scottish accents, but alas I am from the American Midwest. Do you know of any resources or any people who could help me write my dialogue more accurately?

There are some resources for Scots English (like the the DSL), but I’m going to give you the advice I wish a lot of non-Scots people would use when it comes to writing historical Scottish accents: don’t.

The Scots language is not a monolith, and accents and dialect to this day vary greatly depending on region.

Most of the time even with research, what happens is a butchery of our language which borders on parody (sometimes even amped up by publishers because they want the Outlander effect) and is neither correctly spelled nor even phonetically accurate. A better way of writing accents/dialogue (and the way I tend to do it myself even when writing this sort of thing) would be to use regional and tone indicators.

So things like “he spoke with the broad, sweeping brogue of the lower west coast” or “her manner of speaking quickened with excitement, thickening her accent.”

If you want to use some Scots words, you can do so. Just make sure you look them up in the DSL and spell them correctly instead of making up your own.

A common phrase I like to use as an example for how to inject some Scots words into the dialect without murdering it would be the often very sarcastic “oh aye, so you think so?”

It’s a phrase often used when someone is blustering or maybe being a wee bit rude. Sort of like saying “oh really?” As you invite someone to keep digging their own grave.

I’ve seen it spelled every which way from “och aye, di’ye ‘ink sew?” (Pure jibberish, don’t do that) to the slightly more legible if not entirely accurate, “oh aye, dae ye think soe?”

Another could be something like, “oh aye, he’s muckle canny” to mean “oh yes, he’s very smart.” I’ve seen all of those words misspelled at one point, the most memorable being “och aye ‘e’s mochel cannae” which is just…

Canny is smart/capable while cannae means you can’t do something. (And muckle can be spelt mochell if you want to but some modern Scots readers will squint at it)

I tried explaining that what the author had written was the equivalent of “yes. he’s very can’t” but she wouldn’t listen and it went to print anyway. Agony.

Anyway, I mentioned the DSL up top so I suppose I should link to it.

Most of the recorded words there are from 17th century onward. There is an option to search prior to that, though it is limited.

There are surviving texts from the 1500s, though unless you want your work to be readable by a limited few, I wouldn’t try to imitate it. It’s mostly written in archaic Scots that’d be illegible to even modern Scottish readers.

If it’s something you intend to go to print with, I’d also suggest hiring a Scots sensitivity reader. They can make sure there’s nothing glaringly obvious with misspellings and also if they know their history, point out where something is off.

My favorite is when Scottish historical stories have potato scones in the 11th century, which begets the concept of agricultural time travelers, but alas, it’s never that interesting and just a factual error.

Anyway, I hope that was helpful and not discouraging. Please do write your story. Just don’t fall down the Outlander trap of writing nonsense and trying to pass it off as a language that still exists and for which there is recognized meanings and spelling. Which it sounds like you want to do, so yay! Thank you for wanting to be considerate and as accurate as can be.

[lakesbian]

Hi, I just want to clarify that I don't mean this as an accusation but as an honest question; but when you and others on your posts are talking about narrative bigotry in Worm you talk about the racism and homophobia (which I agree with) but you also talk about fatphobia/fat characters being universally handled poorly, and I would love a breakdown as to why this is. With regards to Piggot when she was initially introduced I was thinking from how the heroes thought about her in their POV chapters that she was going to be the fatphobic stereotype of "soft and uncool but mean/unpleasant, disgusting fat civilian who doesn't know real courage and heroism like the thin, attractive heroes", and was pleasantly surprised when she got a lot more nuance than that, and also turned out to be very courageous and militaristic in contrast to the stereotype of "fat = cowardly and doesn't know real survival", with her flaws more lying in how she goes too far in that direction. In general the problem I typically see with how I see fat characters represented isn't just that they have flaws, but that they are never allowed to be "cool". They might be laughably dumb or they might be smart, but in a "loser nerd" way, never in a "clever scheming competent leader" kind of way. If they are negative/mean/evil characters, the emphasis is always on their venal, base qualities like gluttony, greed, and just being a jerk, they are never an "evil is cool" character with flaws like pride or a philosophy that is thoughtful and intended well but goes too far. So in that respect I thought Piggot was well-written, well besides. being literally named Piggot which is cringe but I could excuse as setting up the expectation of a stereotype to later support. And the only other character I remember being described as fat, Gregor the Snail, I have no memory of being any kind of problematic stereotype, though I don't remember him and his chapter that well either. So could you explain why Worm writes fat people badly/fatphobically?

this took way too long to answer because it's like. Well it's a simple answer but also this is a very long ask. so there's more to unpack. the short answer is just that literally, like, virtually 99.99% of the times a fat character or someone being fat is mentioned in literally any wildbow novel it's with palpable disgust. regardless of who the narrator is. it's obvious even with taylor but pact really hammers this home because blake is characterized in a way that indicates he should never be randomly judging someone's weight or appearance and he's still constantly written as observing whether or not someone is "fat." and it's in italics, like it's a slur or some grievous insult. like we're not even at the point of being able to analyze how wildbow writes specific fat characters here due to there are almost none of them and anytime fatness is mentioned it's in the context of it being stated in the same tone as if the narrator was observing someone picking their nose and eating it. like the loathing is Palpable. pay attention to how the phrases "fat" or "obese" or "morbidly obese" are used the next time you're reading a wildbow novel. you'll see what i mean.

as for the specific characters it's like. i think this post has everything icould think to say about gregor already in it, which as you will see is not very strongly opinionated. i mention piggot in it also. i don't remember enough abt either to just wax abt them at length but fundamentally it's that there's nothing particularly Strongly Good about either of them--not doing the "soft lazy uncool glutton" schtick is, like, bare minimum, and neither of them are very far above the bare minimum, and they're in a story that consistently does infinitely less than the bare minimum. there's gonna need to be more than a fat character Having Characterization before we can say that worm isn't wildly fatphobic

[homunculus-argument]

Hey! Another Finn here but I want your English speaking audience to be able to understand as well.

For background information, I've been thinking a lot about nuances in pronoun usage in Finnish language ever since I had a brief discussion about genderless third person pronouns with an English speaking friend. I wanted to share what I have uncovered so far about the information that is instinctive to me.

For our English speaking folk, we have our official language (sometimes referred to as written or formal language) and a bunch of dialects and slang (collectively referred to as spoken language). They can vary vastly and pronoun usage is one of the most obvious indicators of roughly where a person is from. The spoken language examples I'm giving are from Southern Finland (not the capital area) as that's what I use. Also, because of the nature of Finnish language, the words can change their sound and written form when there's information added and sometimes pronouns are not needed as a separate word in a sentence at all.

In written language the singular pronouns are as such: minä (I), sinä/te (you), hän/he (he/she/they) and se/he (it)

Plural pronouns are: me (we), te (you), he (they) and ne (they when used as a plural for "it")

In spoken language it's a bit different: mä (I), sä (you, singular), se/hän (he/she/they/it), me (we), te (you, plural), ne/he (they)

You probably noticed something peculiar already and we're getting there.

When I started learning the written language in school, my teacher told me that hän refers to a human person while se refers to everything else. Also, if you want to sound formal and/or respectful when referring to someone you use plural forms when referring to them even if you're referring to a singular person, hence the use of te instead of sinä and he instead of hän or se. However, if the goal is to still sound as formal/respectful as possible you would not use ne instead of se, because ne implies a lack of personhood. It's always more polite to imply personhood even if you're not talking about people, but people will probably find it odd if you do imply personhood to things that aren't alive. So, with inanimate objects it's either se (singular) or ne (plural).

And there in lies the foundation for many nuances.

Some Finns are indeed taught that in written language hän can be used to refer to all living things while se can be used to refer to all non-living things, but that's not the case with me.

Hän implies personhood. Personhood implies consciousness and agency.

As a result, in spoken language hän is only used when you want to underline the agency of the person/living thing you're talking about. We also generally use se when talking about people because we can often hear from the context that this is someone with agency hence emphasis on agency is not needed, so it would be weird to do that. But when speaking about animals, if someone refers to an animal as hän and you don't also switch to hän it can leave the impression that you don't think this animal has any agency or anything else that comes with personhood, like emotions. Alternatively, it implies that you see animals as "lesser" and their emotions as "not important". Doubly so if the animal is a pet. It's polite to use hän when speaking about an animal, especially to the owner of said animal without prompting. It's rude to insist calling an animal se when someone has already referred to the animal as hän. But if you refer to a human as hän in casual conversation it has a whole another connotation.

As stated before, hän is used to underline agency in spoken language.

"Hän päätti nyt näin." He/she/they decided so this time. This implies that the speaker does not necessarily agree with the decision, made even more apparent by the speakers tone.

"Se on hänen päätös." It's his/hers/their decision. Less friendly and more frustrated sounding version of "se on sen päätös" which means exactly the same. The latter implies more familiarity or warmth between the decision maker and the speaker and doesn't really imply frustration in the same magnitude. The first one can imply frustration either towards the decision maker, the situation or the one who is spoken to. Both mean that the speaker is not responsible for the decision, but while the first one implies that the speaker can't change the decision makers mind it even if they disagree with the decision, the second version implies that the speaker doesn't really want to change their mind even if they could try. Either way, the ultimate decision making power isn't in the hands of the speaker in this case.

But there's a secret option that has become more popular over the years. It's using hän when referring to non living things to imply agency in a way that's humorous. Like in a conversation I often heard and had in my home:

A: "Mä kolautin itteni pöydän kulmaan." I hit myself onto/ran into the corner of the table

B: "Hyökkäskö se pöytä sua päin?" Did that table attack (towards) you?

A: "Joo. Hän hyökkäs aika kovaa." Yeah. He/she/they attacked quite hard.

The "joke" was started when person B implied that an inanimate object can attack (which is an action requiring decision making) and then person A continued the "joke" by confirming that this table has a personhood and indeed decided to attack. It's not meant to make anyone laugh, it's meant to lighten up the mood and save person A from further embarrassment by implying that the whole ordeal was the tables fault.

But if the person B had answered in another way instead, they could have tried to further embarrass person A.

B: "Miksi sä hyökkäsit sitä pöytää kohtaan? Hän oli ihan viattomasti paikallaan." Why did you attack that table? They were innocently staying still where they were supposed to be.

This doesn't only imply that person A was at fault, but also that the collision was a malicious act towards an innocent person, who was just doing what they were supposed to do. While it's more likely to get a laugh out of people in the vicinity, it's not polite to try to further embarrass someone if you don't know they can take it from you.

Also, when someone is representing or speaking for a group, they are referred towards as if the representative is the whole group. The representative can also more easily to make clear their stance with the group. If they constantly use he when referring to the group, it means that the representative is not part of this group they are speaking for. If they use me, they are speaking as a group member or as someone who agrees with them in the matter at hand. If they use any version of minä, they are making clear that this opinion/experience is their own or at least not something the whole group agrees with.

Also, corporations, even single person companies, are spoken about as if it's a plural collective. When I'm asking a small business owner where can I find more products or info about the company, I use te. If I would use any form of sinä it is taken as an interest in the person behind the company, unrelated to the company.

And when speaking or writing in a formal manner, keep in mind that being overly polite can easily be mistaken for sarcasm. Finns are generally very casual. When writing personal emails, text messages etc we use the spoken language. Written language is only spoken if you are reading a book aloud or you happen to be a politician doing your work.

I might have missed something but this has gotten too long already cx

All I can add to this is that this is literally a real language. All the completely nonsense-seeming bullshit about the finnish language you encounter on tumblr is legit things that are a thing in a real language spoken by like 5 people in one corner of the world, and not a whole and full "yes and" goncharov- style bit.

[ferretwhomst]

Holy Shit I Just Realized Something (toh finale spoilers and Badly Structured, Massively Long Rant up ahead)

when we first meet willow in early s1, she's in the abomination track and as we all know she is Struggling. abomination magic just doesn't come as naturally to her as plant magic, which is fine, but it isn't being addressed by the school.

soon enough she gets switched over to the plant track as she wishes- i don't remember the exact details of the episode, it's been a little while, but iirc principal bump shows up after willow covers the entire inside of the school in vines and basically goes "no, i'm not punishing you, instead i'm switching you to the plant track because you're clearly more skilled at this type of magic."

which none of us really thought about, right?? maybe some of us were like "hm, that was a bit abrupt" but we didn't think too much of it because we didn't have much of an idea of bump's character yet.

not much later, it's revealed that bump himself is a part of the abomination coven. (it's not exactly Discussed but his sigil is visible in some shots, like this one.) he is bound by sigil to be restricted to abomination magic and nothing else.

one slightly less relevant detail that i find interesting is how he doesn't Look like an abomination coven member, and so he seems a lot less invested in his status as an abomination witch. now you may be thinking: ferret, that's a moot point because 1. not every magic user is going to have their preferred type of magic/coven/track whatever implemented into their design and 2. princy b wears his Principal Robes every time we see him up until the finale, so it would be difficult to implement those details into his design anyway.

now, that second point is actually, uh. Fair. but as for the first point, allow me to explain

here are two prominent abomination coven members, darius deamonne and alador blight

both of them are pretty obviously abomination coven members right off the bat. darius, being a coven head, has a Shit ton of purple in his design to indicate this (and that's not even including his hair). with alador, this is toned down, but it's still obvious by the permanent abomination goo stains on his coat (and also by the fact that he apparently doesn't wash his hands after working on the abomatons /lhj). these two are specialists, in different ways, of course, but ultimately their skills lie in abomination magic, and neither of them have expressed a wish to try other types of magic at this point.

but here's the thing. as far as i can tell, bump is Not a specialist. while he is a skilled abomination witch, we rarely see him make use of the fact except for during fight scenes- he doesn't seem very invested in it. plus, when we see him during the epilogue, he's enjoying a new hobby, which is...

...plant care, much like willow! :)

(side note i love the holes in his hat for frewin's horns)

now, of course you could interpret this as bump simply discovering a New hobby between where wad left off & the epilogue. but to me, this says that all this time he was held back from his passion for plant care for multiple reasons, for example his job as the principal of hexside definitely put a strain on him in terms of how much time he could spend doing things for himself. but now that he's retired, and the coven system has been dismantled, he can spend more time doing things that bring him joy, just like many others in the epilogue.

this means that when he saw what willow was capable of back in s1, and transferred her to the plant track, he was really saying "i see you're struggling, and i won't let you go through what i went through by forcing you to go down a path that isn't yours." and god he means so much to me for that.

anyways end of rant, if you're here reading this i sincerely congratulate you for getting this far without passing away . i am very unnormal about hieronymus bump and it shows.

(also, PLSPLSLSS reblog this if you agree i spent like an hour here sitting here typing this all up on my phone at 1am AHDKDJFJE)

[celestial-specter]

Here I am again, for more in-depth analysis of The Bad Batch!!

Here you go, @skellymom :))

Aftermath’s battle simulation: How one scene reintroduces us to Clone Force 99, and possibly foreshadows later events in the series.

(Part 2)

As the simulation begins, Hunter orders Crosshair to ‘take the towers.’ Crosshair is thus the first to split off from the rest of the group, quickly climbing one of the towers. As I discussed in part 1, the higher levels in this scene represent the empire. To explain this idea further in reference to the towers themselves, in literature, towers have been used to represent strength, success, and power - all things which Crosshair personally craves. With all this in mind, this movement provides an early indication of Crosshair’s upcoming departure to climb the ranks of the empire. The climb itself is treacherous with no equipment, but Crosshair manages it with ease, quickly reaching the top level - just as he manages to rise to the level of Commander of his new imperial squad.

Once in position, Crosshair makes quick work of shooting and disabling the four towers. I have thought through several interpretations of what these four towers could represent, but my two personal favorites are:

The towers are a representation of Crosshair’s relationships with his four brothers; his disabling attack on each tower shows the severance of his ties to each brother.

The towers have a much more literal meaning, representing the four members of his own imperial squad that Crosshair later kills on this same training ground.

Meanwhile, at Hunter’s order, the rest of the squad push further into the training ground, leaving Crosshair behind on the tower.

When the battle seems to be taking ‘too long,’ Wrecker charges in alone to take down the droids, unconcerned about the danger to himself. Tech does briefly reach out to stop him, but then does not seem to be worried for his brother either, rolling his eyes as he watches from behind the barrier. While we do not see the reactions of the others during this moment, I assume they also were largely passive towards Wrecker’s antics. To me, this carefree attitude is similar in tone to the first few episodes of the series, in which the batch remain largely unaware of the danger they are in from the empire, and Wrecker begins exhibiting symptoms of his inhibitor chip activating. They remain unaware of this huge risk until the episode Battle Scars, in which Rex reveals the truth about the chips.

The composition of the shot in which Wrecker asks Tarkin for more droids to battle is also interesting - Wrecker is naturally larger than the rest of his squad due to his strength-based enhancements, and most shots we see of him are composed to enhance his size (e.g. placing him beside much smaller characters such as Omega). As far as I am aware, this is the only shot we have seen which purposely makes Wrecker look physically small - the height from which Tarkin is viewing him at does most of the work, but this is furthered by none of his brothers being beside him for comparison.

Tarkin himself is not a man of physically imposing stature - this is made obvious when the audience sees him beside the Kaminoans. So, the framing of this shot, with Tarkin appearing to be much bigger than Wrecker, makes the usually giant clone appear almost… doll like.

This shot, as seen below, could be interpreted simply as Tarkin looking down on all clones, viewing them as unworthy of service in the new empire. While I agree this is definitely relevant, I believe it is only a piece of a larger problem. Even in the time of the Republic, many nat-born officers viewed clones simply as cannon-fodder - as in, they were created and thus, expected, to die for their army. But, as we saw in The Clone Wars, many Jedi formed close bonds with their clone battalions, and were instrumental in the clones forming their own identities outside of their lives as soldiers.

Now, with the Jedi order destroyed, imperial officers such as Tarkin, and later Hemlock, are free to treat clones as they wish; simply as toys to be played with for their own entertainment, and to be discarded as soon as they are no longer useful.

When Tarkin then orders the use of live rounds, Wrecker encounters a force even stronger than himself, which the audience can see takes him by surprise. This definitively foreshadows the activation of Wrecker’s inhibitor chip - as the ‘muscle’ of the team, it is likely rare he ever encountered an opponent he couldn’t fight off before, and yet both here, and on Bracca, he was caught off guard and suffered as a result.

When Wrecker is shot by the droid in his right shoulder and flung to the ground, it is Tech who puts himself at risk to move from behind the barrier and drag Wrecker out of danger. This mirrors how he is the first member of the squad and the most at risk of physical harm when Wrecker’s chip first activates. Interestingly, Wrecker is shot in the exact same place that Crosshair later shoots him in during their standoff in the hangar. As Wrecker would be viewed by many as the heart of the squad, having him end up injured in both of these scenarios is a good way to highlight that these moments are strong emotional turning points for the batch and their story.

Seeing that his brothers are now in active danger, Crosshair begins to shoot the new droids firing live rounds, still in his position atop the tower. When the droids then turn their attention on him, the shots they fire damage the tower Crosshair is standing upon. He abandons his post, hanging precariously over the edge of the tower for a moment before sliding down to the ground level. These moments could reference Crosshair realization that the empire does not care about any of the clones, leading to his decision to shoot Lieutenant Nolan, thus abandoning his imperial service and falling back to the very same low societal level that he began with, and that his brothers still occupy.

Once back on the ground, Crosshair returns to Echo and Hunter, but they immediately must move behind a barrier to avoid being shot. Pinned down, Crosshair’s sarcastic commentary during this moment shows he is beginning to lose faith in their ability to complete the simulation successfully. Echo comments that their training blasters are useless against the new droids- each member of the team is already aware of this fact, yet Echo being the one to vocalize it shows he likely accepts new information faster than the rest of his brothers (a notable progression in Echo’s character development since his first appearance in The Clone Wars). As such, Echo is the first member of the team to recognize the breadth and power of the new empire, and the consequences it will have for the clones. He is also the first to begin actively fighting against it by joining Rex’s clone rebellion.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey! I just discovered your account and I absolutely love your writing-I feel like you characterise everyone perfectly! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if I could make one? Could you write either Fili or Kili (or both, separately, if you’re feeling up for it but don’t feel like you need to) being protective over the reader? Like maybe someone is being mean to them or they are being followed or something along those lines (maybe with she/her pronouns but they/them is also fine!). You can choose the format-I’m not picky about whether you do head canons or a one shot or anything else. Don’t worry if you don’t feel like writing this and lemme know if I’ve requested anything off limits! Have a wonderful day/night-imma just binge read a bunch of your posts👌

(aw thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my stuff :D I'm gonna do headcanons for this one so I hope you enjoy! I'm also in my Fili brainrot era so thank you for an excuse to indulge it)

(Kili x fem!reader, Fili x fem!reader - mentions of violence)

Kili:

Kili is a little impulsive in the way he protects you. Like if there's someone bothering you he will absolutely cause a scene.

If there is someone being mean to you and he overhears it, he'll wrap his arms around your waist from behind and asks them if there's a problem.

(He gets possessive in moments like these.)

It's not surprising how fast people get scared off by a scowling prince. As soon as he arrives there are lots of bowed heads and mumbled apologies before whoever was bothering you scampers away.

And if there's a man harassing you? Don't even bother trying to hold Kili back, it's pointless.

Any indication that you're being followed, sexually harassed or anything remotely threatening, he's already drawn his sword and marched towards them with fury on his face.

This is more for the threat than with intention to kill, but he will not hesitate to knock out whoever was scaring you.

As soon as they're gone, he immediately reverts back into the sweet, goofy dwarf you're used to. He triple checks that you're alright, that you're not hurt, and then will spoil you with affection for the rest of the day.

Fili:

Fili is much more toned back than his younger brother, but that doesn't mean he cares any less. He's just very conscious about escalating anything in case you get hurt.

When someone is being mean to you, while he does flash a quick glare in their direction, he will generally ignore them. He sidles up to you and presses his forehead to yours in greeting, with his hand on the small of your back, and makes sure to shower you with compliments as he guides you away from them.

And obviously being heir to the throne nobody would even think about saying anything to you again now that they know you're a couple.

If you're being harassed, Fili is angry but will not move to physical violence unless he's provoked.

He will subconsciously put himself between you and your harasser, with a hand on one of the many blades he keeps on his person. He doesn't draw it, but makes it obvious that he is armed.

He tells the person to leave, his voice dangerously quiet. Somehow it's scarier than if he was yelling.

Much like Kili, once he's checked that you're unharmed he spoils you for the rest of the day. He isn't usually massive on PDA - he enjoys it but has an image to uphold - but he will indulge you as much as you want after this event.

[lcvesjj]

Unknown/Nth - Hondo Harrelson x Fem!Reader

Inspired by the song Unknown/Nth by Hozier :) 

Pairing : Hondo Harrelson x Fem!Reader

Summary : Sometimes being alone in the unknown is the worst. 

Warnings : tiny bit of angst (with a happy ending), love that seems one sided, Reader is oblivious to Hondo’s feelings?, 

A/n : I suck at writing summaries but anyways enjoy! :) also once again- this is just based on my interpretation of the song!!!

song fic masterlist

regular masterlist

To everyone else it was obvious that Hondo was head-over-heels in love with you, yet you were still oblivious to the small gestures he gave indicating his feelings for you. Whether it was him just bringing you coffee or always pairing you with him on cases, so he could secretly spend more time with you. You always thought he was just being nice and a good friend.

Only Chris knew about your feelings for Hondo. She tried to convince you multiple times to confess, since he feels the same way but you'd always say that she was just lying and that he would never feel the same way.

Hondo felt like his actions were always misunderstood by you, every time he'd try and flirt with you, it would just end in you telling him that he's a good friend. Hearing you call him a good friend hurts. He wanted to be more than friends with you.

Overhearing you talking to Chris in the locker room about some guy you had a crush on, Hondo could feel his heart break into small pieces and his stomach drop. Sighing to himself, he walked inside to the locker room saying that Hicks needed everyone in the conference room. His voice was sharp and cold and much different than the tone he would usually use. Chris glanced at you, mouthing something he couldn't quite make out before glancing at him innocently. Your cheeks flushed slightly pink and you glared at Chris before nodding and walking out of the locker room.

Hondo was so pissed off that he didn't notice the way Chris looked at you and then back at him. Walking past him she whispered to him “You should tell her.” Before winking at him.

Hondo sighed and rubbed his beard, deep in thought. Chris was trying to play matchmaker (yet again). But he figured it might be worth a shot. I mean what's the worst that could happen? You could curse him out and reject him, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

He decided that after the meeting with Hicks and the rest of the team he'd approach you and tell you about his feelings. Shaking his head he quickly headed after you and Chris to the conference room.

You didn't pay much attention in the meeting since you were too busy staring at Hondo. Seeing that Chris and Deacon exchanged a knowing look. They'd both been trying to get you to confess your feelings but to no avail.

You and Hondo were both too stubborn and proud to admit that you liked each other way more than coworkers or friends should. After the meeting was over Chris leaned in and whispered into your ear “Did you even pay attention or were you too busy staring at Hondo?” She asked while snickering, getting up you glared at her and smacked her shoulder while walking out with a huff.

Hondo was waiting for you when you left the conference room and he silently followed you all the way to the locker room with a frown. Opening your locker you turned around to look at him. “You okay Hondo? You seem a little distracted?” You asked softly with a concerned frown.

He took a deep breath before looking at you. “We need to talk.” He just stated simply, turning around, you just nodded, waiting for him to continue. “About?” Hondo sighed and looked down, he looked nervous. Which was odd since Hondo rarely looked so nervous and scared. “Hondo, you're scaring me. What’s wrong?” You asked hesitantly, he glanced up at you before taking a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you..Just promise to hear me out before you say anything.” In response you nodded in agreement, he then started speaking.

“I probably shouldn’t be saying this since I’m your boss. But I’m in love with you Y/n. I can’t hide it anymore and I know you’re interested in someone else but-”

Before Hondo could even finish you leaned in and pulled him in for a soft and sweet kiss. Pulling away you glanced up at him with a soft smile. “The only person I’m interested in is you. You’re the person who I was talking to Chris about earlier.” Hondo’s eyes widened comically before he pulled you in for another kiss. Pulling away he rested his forehead against yours. “You’re not kidding me right? This isn't a prank is it?”

For the first time since you started working with Hondo he looked genuinely nervous. You shook your head no while he let out a soft sigh of relief, gently rubbing your sides. “This whole time I thought you weren’t interested in me…” You said with a smile. “Y/n I’ve been in love with you since I first laid my eyes on you.” He smiled back.

“Does this mean I finally get to take you out on a date?” Hondo asked while laughing and pressing a kiss to your forehead, before pulling you into his arms and squeezing you tightly, letting you bury your head into his chest.

You laughed and nodded yes. “I’d love that.” Hondo then pulled away to look at you and gently cupped your cheeks tilting your head upwards so that he could kiss you again.

EXTRA :

Meanwhile Chris and Deacon were standing in the doorway and seeing you and Hondo finally admit your feelings and the way he kissed you, they just glanced at each other with a grin on their faces before Chris pulled Deacon away while whispering.  “Let's leave the lovebirds alone for now.”

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

The Knight & His Queen: Part 3

Fic Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist

Dieter Bravo x OFC

Summary: While looking for the perfect Christmas gift for his niece, Dieter Bravo finds himself in a small mystic shop, owned by the sweet and eccentric Amina. After an impromptu tarot reading with unexpected and surprising results, the two quickly find themselves entranced by each other.

Warnings: Spicy language, alcohol consumption, smut, & mentions of drug use. Mystical topics such as tarot readings, spirit guides, chakras, etc. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Chapter Quote: “Is there something about the card reading that you didn’t tell me?”

Amina POV

My morning started off like it always did…me waking up and questioning my life choices. Then, I continued through my routine to get ready for the day. However, the minute I picked up my tarot deck to pull the daily card, something felt different. My intuition flared, a tingling sensation forming at the base of my spine. I almost didn’t pull a card, afraid of what that feeling meant. I hesitated, but proceeded to shuffle the deck more than I normally would have before making my selection. I inhaled deeply, holding the breath in until I flipped the card. The breath came out in a rush as I stared in disbelief. The Fool. 

This was a different deck, which means this wasn’t a coincidence. This was happening. Dieter Bravo was my Knight of Wands and the guides wanted me to take a chance on him. It was a lot to take in, but I was warming up to the idea of it. He did have a certain charm that was appealing even if he did seem like a hot mess. 

Miss Pickles sat on the edge of the island, whipping her tail around as she watched me. She looked almost smug, if that were possible. I felt like she was now telling me ‘I told you so’. 

“Don’t take that tone with your face, young lady. I’m not in the mood for your sass.” 

She meowed at me, still giving an attitude. I narrowed my eyes at her before grabbing my bag and heading out the door. 

When I got to the shop, Heidi immediately asked about my card pull for the day. I avoided answering for a good part of the morning until she finally cornered me in the back storage area and refused to let it go. Just as I finished telling her about it, we heard the doorbell jingle. Heidi peeked through the curtain then turned back to me with wide eyes, “It’s him. He’s back. Go talk to him…now.” 

“No…I can’t. What do I say? This is so fucking bizarre. Why did he have to ask for that reading? That’s going to make it awkward.”  I was starting to feel a little panicky. 

Heidi smirked as she turned me to face the curtain. “Better figure it out quick,” she said, giving me a small shove, almost causing me to trip over my own feet as I came stumbling out behind the register. I paused for a minute, to take in Dieter’s appearance. He looked a little more put together today. His hair was still a mess, but something about it made me want to run my fingers through it…maybe even pull it a little. I quickly dismissed that thought, surprised by the path my mind was taking.

The events that unfolded after that were almost comical. I could tell as soon as I walked over to Dieter that he was nervous for some reason, which actually helped me relax slightly. After he indicated he was just going to browse for a while, I headed back to the counter. He didn’t know it, but I had started watching him on the security camera from my laptop. It was sneaky, but I wanted to ogle him without being obvious about it. Though, in doing that, I realized he was sneaking glances at me. It emboldened me some, realizing that perhaps he was just as interested as I was. When he grabbed the books from the shelf it was obvious that he didn’t look at what he was grabbing. I made a mental note to see what he ended up with. His behavior continued as he made his way around the shop, getting more nervous and fidgety as he got closer to the register.   

When Dieter finally unloaded his finds on the counter, it took everything in me not to burst out laughing at his book choices. I had to take a minute to tease him about it, causing the most adorable blush to creep up his neck into his cheeks. When I reminded him that I too had read it and recommended it, it seemed to stir something inside him, briefly flashing in his eyes. Clearly lighting a fire that quickly fizzled out with his nerves. He made it too easy to tease him further when he asked about the Sacral Chakra stone. The flush on his neck and cheeks deepened in color as he dropped his head, mentally kicking himself for asking. It was beyond adorable. 

I don’t know what possessed me to reach out and put a bracelet on Dieter’s arm, but I was curious if I would feel the same sensation from his touch that I felt the previous day. I did, and it seemed even more intense this time. He seemed to feel it too as he froze on the spot with that cheesy lop-sided grin of his sliding across his face. He appeared hesitant to leave as he grabbed his bag of purchases and headed toward the exit. 

I was shocked when he returned a short time later, looking slightly embarrassed but also strangely determined. For some reason I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he inquired about incense to cover the smell of weed. The fact that he had no shame in asking was actually kind of attractive. My ex would have been mortified to ask something like that to a stranger. 

I could feel Dieter’s energy shift as we walked toward the register, like he was working up to something. The instant I heard my name come out of his pillowy lips, something inside of me was set ablaze. I knew then that I wanted him. The strength of that feeling took me by surprise as I stood there momentarily stunned into silence. The force of it caused me to shy away from saying yes right away. 

I felt so bad for hesitating when I saw his confidence falter, his words starting to come out in a rush to explain his reasoning of it being for a meteor shower. I have to admit, I was impressed that he thought of doing something like that. It was different and exciting. It was clear he had considered my interest when planning it, which was something my ex most definitely never did. I was still on the ledge about my answer when Heidi busted through the curtains and took away my one exit strategy. Truth be told, I was thankful she did because I really wanted to go but was getting in my head about it. Any reservations I had quickly vanished when he sheepishly admitted that he had wanted to come in and talk to me before the reading happened. It gave me some comfort to know that he was truly interested in getting to know me. 

Once I finally agreed to join him for the date, he visibly relaxed. Neither of us could stop smiling as I finished ringing up his purchase. He seemed almost giddy as he turned to tell me bye and that he would see me the following day. His excitement was oddly sending electric pulses directly to my core. If I was already slowly crumbling into a mess now, how was I going to survive a whole evening with him without submitting to those instincts completely?  

I spent the majority of the following morning in a tizzy. It had been so long since I had been on a first date. Add the pressure of the date being with the one and only Dieter Bravo after you’ve been told by the spirit guides that he is your life partner, and it was almost maddening. By the time my lunch hour rolled around, Heidi was practically shoving me out the door. Telling me to go home and try to relax and prepare for the date. 

There was no relaxing, but I did appreciate the extra time to get ready. It took me forever to decide on something to wear since it would be on the colder side later in the evening and at a slightly higher elevation. I decided on a diagonal striped irregular fringe knit sweater in shades of burnt orange, brown, and black with dark skinny jeans and my brown lace up boots. I grabbed a knee length nutmeg brown faux fur lined coat, fingerless gloves, and a scarf from the closet, laying them out so I wouldn't forget them. 

True to his word, Dieter texted me about twenty minutes before he arrived to let me know he was on his way. Knowing that he would be arriving soon only increased my nervousness as I rushed around to make last minute adjustments to my hair and makeup. I added a spritz of perfume to a few key pulse points just as I heard him knock. I took a couple of centering breaths before walking over to answer the door.

When I opened the door, Dieter stood there in a tan waffle knit long sleeved shirt and jeans. His hair looked a little tamer than it had the last couple of times I had seen him. He had sunglasses tucked into his neckline even though it was already dark out. The sleeves of his shirt were half pushed up and I noticed tattoos peeking out but couldn’t quite make out what they were. He was holding two venti sized Starbucks cups in one large hand as he met my eyes, a wide smile across his face. 

“Hey, I hope you found the place ok.” I said as I opened the door, gesturing for him to come in. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with the area. No issues.”

He turned toward me, gesturing to the cups in his hand, “I hope you like hot chocolate. It’s already getting a little chilly out, so I thought it might help warm you up. It’s definitely hot.” He chuckled as he set them down on the island. 

“I do like hot chocolate. Thank you.” We stood awkwardly staring at each other for a moment, both with smiles tugging at our lips.

“Well, I’m gonna finish up. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.” 

I quickly made my way back to the bedroom, giving myself a once over in the mirror and grabbing my jewelry to put on. I was fastening my necklace when I heard Dieter call out to ask what the cat’s name was. 

“Oh, she’s not a fan of men, so maybe…” My words trailed off as I walked out to the living room to find Miss Pickles in Dieter’s arms with her paws wrapped around his neck and rubbing her face on the scruff of his beard. 

I scoffed in disbelief, “Well, that’s new. She usually doesn’t take to men very well.”  

He giggled at her overly affectionate behavior, nuzzling his face into her fur and cuddling her close. Miss Pickles showed her approval by purring loudly and nuzzling him right back. The sight before me was causing all sorts of emotions to stir. It was sweet and hot all at once. 

“What’s her name?” he asked again, scratching under her chin. 

I chuckled, knowing he was going to find it funny, “Miss Pickles.”

His eyebrows shot up at me before he started laughing, “Can I ask where that name comes from?”

I smiled, “That was her name when I got her from the rescue. I’m told it was because of her green eyes. She won’t answer to anything else, so Miss Pickles it is.” 

He looked down at Pickles, sort of making one of those aww faces, “Well, I like it. Sounds like some shit I would come up with.” 

Still smiling as he cuddled the cat, he looked back my way, “Umm, did you want to grab dinner before we go?”

“They have a cafe, right? We can just grab some junk food from there. I’m not hard to please.”  

Dieter’s eyes widened at my response, seeming surprised, “You know…most women I know wouldn’t go for that…but you’re totally speaking my language.”

I chuckled, “Well I’m not most women. I’ve learned to enjoy the little things in life and that includes terrible cafe junk food.”   

I moved to grab Miss Pickles from Dieter’s arms since she didn’t seem like she planned to go anywhere anytime soon. She protested with loud meows as I picked her up and moved to sit her in the window bed. She immediately started whipping her tail around as she turned her back to me. 

I chuckled, “I guess I’m on her shit list now.” 

Dieter laughed as he stood, “You ready?”   

I nodded, walking over to grab my coat and other items as Dieter grabbed our hot chocolates. As I closed the door behind us, I could see Miss Pickles glowering at me from where she was still perched in the window. 

Once we got into Dieter’s car, I could smell his cologne. It was earthy and herbal with a mild citrus undertone. I briefly wondered what it smelled like on his skin, mixed with his own scent. I shook my head to clear it, my mind already trying to wander down paths it shouldn’t be…not yet at least. 

Conversation flowed easily as we made our way toward Griffith Observatory. Our nervousness seemed to dissipate quickly, which I was thankful for. Dieter unsurprisingly had an interesting sense of humor and sarcasm that matched my own. 

As he drove, I finally got a look at the rings on his fingers. I asked him about the wolf head that he wore on his pinky as it seemed like an odd choice for him. He chuckled as he straightened out his hand on the steering wheel to look at it, “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve just always had a thing for wolves. They’re majestic, but also have that sense of danger you know? I had a chance to hang out with some wolf dogs at this sanctuary once, and it was almost like they could see into my soul. It was so fucking weird and calming too. I just felt like there was a connection.”

“Ahh, so it’s your spirit animal then, is that what you’re saying?”

He shrugged, “I dunno, maybe. What about you and the hawk feathers you wear in your hair?”

I laughed, “I’m impressed you knew what they were.” He smiled at the praise. 

“I guess it’s kind of the same thing. We don’t see a lot of them in the city, but when I do, it’s just a feeling I get. Like an omen maybe? A calm? So, I get it. To me the feathers are sort of a good luck charm at this point.” 

He pursed his lips, nodding. “I actually love the idea of that,” he replied as his mouth curved into a smile. 

Once we finally reached our destination, we spent some time walking around the grounds to take in the sights of the Los Angeles skyline and the famous Hollywood sign while we drank our hot chocolate. I linked my arm with his as we took in the breathtaking views, which seemed to open the door for more touching and flirting on both our parts. He let his inner film cinephile out while he told me about all of the movies that had been filmed in this location, most of which I had never seen since I didn’t watch movies that often. He promised to introduce me to them since many were some of his favorites. The fact that he was already making plans for the future made my stomach do several flips. I also found the thought of curling up with him to watch a movie to be oddly satisfying. 

We eventually made our way into the cafe and took our chances on trying out their wraps. I got a chicken cesar while he gave the buffalo chicken a try. We stood outside on the terrace while we ate, stealing samples of each other’s food and laughing about the mess we were making in the process. After some time, I noticed he was staring at my eyes pretty intensely. I gave him a questioning look as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. 

“I’ve gotta ask, do you wear contacts? Or is that your real eye color?”

I laughed. It wasn’t the first time I had been asked that.

“No, it’s my eye color. I know…it’s different.”  

“It’s a good different. I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re unique and it's a beautiful color. Honestly, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.”

I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my face at his complement. He flashed a quick smile before taking another bite of his food.   

After we finished eating, we made our way over to a sectioned off area that was hidden away from the rest of the visitors. He had apparently reserved the spot and a free standing telescope for us so we didn’t have to fight the crowd. 

Dieter was patient as he showed me how to work the telescope. He seemed genuinely excited to share his hobby with me. I wasn’t sure how long he spent telling me about the different constellations or the science behind how stars were made, but I hung on every word he said. His enthusiasm on the topic was infectious and I loved hearing him talk about it. 

As I stood moving the telescope around to look at different things, I grabbed onto his brown fuzzy coat and pulled him over to stand behind me. Occasionally having him lean down over my shoulder to look through the eyepiece at whatever space anomaly I had found so that he could lean in next to my ear and tell me about it in a low voice. I could feel his fingers gently brush through the back of my hair as he spoke, sending shivers down my back that had nothing to do with the cold. As the evening wore on, and the temperature dropped further, we found ourselves huddled together in each other’s arms as we watched the incandescent space matter finally begin its descent, streaking through the sky. It was impressive to see. As I stood taking in the sights before me, I couldn’t have imagined the evening going any more perfectly. 

I started rubbing my hands together, the cold finally getting to them and the fingerless gloves doing little to keep them warm. Dieter reached down, taking both of my hands in his giant ones, rubbing them to create friction and warmth. He eventually stopped, cupping his hands around mine before bringing them to his mouth to blow warm air into them. The intense stare between us as he did this caused a deep ache inside of me. When he finally stopped, he kissed my fingertips, then moved our hands to rest against his chest inside of his coat, still gently stroking them with his thumbs. 

He raised his eyebrows at me as his chocolate eyes searched mine, “Mina, can I ask you something?”   

I smiled up at him, “Of course, anything.” 

“Is there something about the card reading that you didn’t tell me?” 

I inhaled sharply, surprised by his question, “What makes you think that?”

He suddenly appeared nervous as he looked down at our joined hands, “I don’t know, I just had a feeling that there was more to it.”

I chuckled, “How intuitive of you.”

He raised his head to meet my eyes, surprised by my words. There was no sense in hiding it from him at this point. 

I sighed, “I told you everything there was to tell about your card reading…What I didn’t tell you is your reading was exactly the same as my reading that Heidi did not long before you walked into the shop.” 

He knitted his brows together as he took in my words. 

“I am your Queen of Cups, and you are my Knight of Wands,” I added to drive the point home. 

I chuckled, “To make things more bizarre I had been doing a daily card draw for months…and for months it was the same thing…the Death card. It changed the day you walked into the shop.”

His cheesy crooked grin spread across his face, “What was the new one?”

I smiled, “The Fool.” 

He raised his hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head slightly as his eyes scanned over my face, “So this whole time I was worried about my card reading making things weird for you, when in reality you already knew we were a match?” 

He gave me a teasing smile.

“Guilty,” I squeaked out at him. 

He clicked his tongue at me before smirking, “Naughty girl.” 

He leaned his forehead against mine, closing his eyes briefly before he spoke again.

“Can I kiss you?”

The only response I could muster was to nod as I pulled him down to me, pressing our lips together. The kiss started off gentle, but quickly morphed into something more passionate as our tongues danced together. I felt a tingle at the base of my spine ignite and spread through my body, consuming me. I could honestly say that I had never felt anything like that, and I knew at that moment that I never wanted to let it go.  

Once we finally pulled away from each other, he stared at me with hooded eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair. A mischievous smile played on his lips as words sat on the tip of his tongue, afraid to be spoken. I spoke up instead, giving him a wry smile, “I don’t think I wanna let you out of my sight tonight.” 

“Is that right?” He asked in surprise, his smile widening.

I snaked my arms around his waist on the inside of his coat as I looked up at him, “Yeah. It is.”

He chuckled, “Good…I really wanted to ask you back to my place but didn’t think that was appropriate for the first date.”

I smirked, “Normally it wouldn’t be, but this feels…different. I’m also mildly curious about your double fire energy and that Lovers card.” 

He laughed loudly at my words, taking a moment to compose himself, “Well the Fool says I should take a chance and act on unexpected opportunities. So…I probably should help you explore that.” 

I leaned in, smiling against his lips, “Yeah? He told me the same thing. I guess we should listen to his advice.” 

He nodded slightly before closing the space between us for a slow sensual kiss that had me seeing stars. If it was this intense with just a kiss, I couldn’t imagine what else he could make me feel.

Next

[starks-hero]

Stark Relevations

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Relevation; an act of revealing or communicating a divine truth. Or the one where Stephen finally remembers you.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: A little bit of angst, a portion of comfort with a side of miscommunication

a/n: due to popular demand, here's the long overdue second part to dream a little, dream of me

‘Every second was worth it since it lead me back to you.’

You traced the engraved words with your thumb. The watch sat warm in your hand despite its metal appearance, likely due to your inability to put it down.

You still remembered the night Stephen gave it to you. A candlelit dinner, the first of many. He had handed the gift to you over the table, his hands shaking as he passed it off, silently saying ‘This is my heart. Please be gentle.’

You would have never imagined that such a small trinket could mean so much to you, yet you also never imagined falling for a man like Stephen.

Stephen with his rough edges that somehow fit perfectly against your own. Neither of you had any idea just how much you would grow to mean to each other, how both your broken pieces would fall together to create a mosaic more beautiful than what either of you believed you deserved.

Now, the watch in your hand served as your only proof that it was all real and not some dream you thought up. Perhaps that's why you kept it with you even now. You needed the comfort it offered more than you cared to admit. It was essential, something you weren't entirely sure you could live without.

Turning the watch in your palm, you watched as the second hand glided across the face. Paired with the rhythmic beat, it was almost hypnotic, tempting you to forget the sorrows it represented.

tick. tick. tick.

A sudden knock at the door almost sent you off the couch. You gave yourself a moment to recover, scrubbing your free hand down your face with a somewhat irritated sigh. Having been tossed back into the real world in all its bleakness, you tucked the watch back into your pocket and stood.

The visitor knocked a second time, clearly impatient, although he always had been. You opened the door and found Stephen on the other side, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Your temporary surprise was swiftly replaced with the realization that it was Friday. You knew you were miserable but were you seriously at the point of jumbling up what day it was?

“Stephen,” you greeted somewhat breathlessly.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” he accused in a tone that bordered playful. “I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

Yep, it was, in fact, Friday.

You had no idea how it had slipped your mind. It was almost tradition now, had been since the day you’d met again after the casting of the spell that erased the best part of your life. After your accidental ruining of his best shirt, Stephen had smoothly suggested buying you a coffee some other time. Ever the opportunist. And so your ‘coffee dates’ as Stephen had so fondly coined them took place every Friday afternoon, (Saturdays when things were hectic.)

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“No, no, I just-” Your hand subconsciously travelled to your pocket. “Lost track of time.”

He nodded nonchalantly, if not somewhat unconvinced, before tilting his head in an invite. “Shall we?” he asked with a smile you almost mistook for flirtatious. You didn’t allow your mind to linger on it.

The walk to the cafe was a brief one. You knew the old Stephen would have been as quick to form a portal, (he was never overly keen on walking places when he had an alternative, it was one of those little, mundane things you still remembered about him.) He seldom used magic around you now, an obvious indicator of his hesitation to involve you in the life he had no idea you'd already been such a large part of.

Despite the cafe not appearing much different to the countless others littered around New York, this one was different. The title bestowed upon it leniently by Stephen as 'home of the best coffee in NYC' meant it held a special place in your heart. That and the minor detail that it was the spot Stephen chose to bring you after your reunion run-in.

The day your world started turning again.

You still had the styrofoam cup from that day, tucked away on a high shelf in your apartment. You told yourself it was out of sentimentality and not in a desperate attempt to salvage the pieces of your old life.

You sat across from him now. He was carefully cradling his coffee in his hand and rambling on about something you couldn't find it in you to focus on. Your attention was on him rather than his words. His little quirks that you had to pretend you didn't notice. The way his eyebrow hiked up when he lied, the way he subconsciously ran his fingers over his knuckles as he spoke. The yellow of the gloves he wore that made your skin crawl. He'd started wearing them around you again and the whole thing felt like a cosmic slap to the face.

‘He doesn't trust you anymore. Everything you once had is gone. He doesn't trust you with his broken parts-’

“Are you going to drink that?”

You blinked owlishly. “What?”

“This is our sixth time here and I don't think I've ever actually seen you drink anything.” Stephen motioned to the cup of, albeit almost cold, coffee in your hand. “Kind of defeats the whole purpose of meeting for coffee.”

You smiled, hoping the action deceivingly reached your eyes. “Is it that difficult to believe that I just like spending time with you?”

“With me?” Stephen asked. “Incredibly.”

It hurt more in moments like this. When you could allow yourself to believe, even for a moment, that nothing had changed. That this was playful banter between partners and that he was still yours–

“Speaking of coffee,” you distracted yourself quickly. “That's your third cup.”

“Worrying that your counting.”

“Something keeping you up at night?” You sat back as you waited for him to answer, doing your best to ignore how his foot was now brushing your own beneath the table. He grinned again but his gaze moved off to the side in a look you'd come to recognize all too well. You felt very uneasy all of a sudden.

“Things have been... hectic lately.” Stephen shifted as he spoke.

“Yeah?”

“Some problems at the sanctum. Nothing drastic, definitely not something I should be burdening you with.” He looked at you with a softness you hadn't seen in his eyes since before the spell.

“Come on, this is what platonic coffee dates are for,” you encouraged him. “Besides, I can tell it's stressing you out.”

Stephen hid his smirk behind his cup. “Sometimes it scares me how well you can read me.”

Oh, if only he knew.

He downed the last of his coffee before speaking. “Someone or some-thing broke into the sanctum not long back, and now an artefact is missing. Wong's so stressed his hair is starting to grey but I don't see the big deal.” You didn't miss the sudden quirk of his brow. “It's just some old relic.”

You took a sudden interest in the bottom of your cup as Stephen's words fell over you like hot tar. “I'm sure it's nothing worth worrying over.” You tried but the words left you feeling hollow. “Like you said, it's just some old relic, right?”

Stephen tilted his head with something that fell between suspicion and confusion; but certainly not the knowledge that you currently had said 'old relic' hidden in your New York apartment.

“Yeah,” he eventually nodded and you tried to hide your relief. “Anyway, about that movie you told me about last week-”

You tried to listen, you really did. You tried to keep the worry from your eyes and the guilt from your expression. But the chill running down your spine left you fearing you'd slip up and Stephen would learn the truth.

You had never meant for it to go this far. This whole thing was something far more in line with the actions of your enemies.

You'd heard of the orb of agamotto, read of its power and caught glimpses during your time at the sanctum. The day faith conjured up the cruel joke of tossing Stephen back into your life as a stranger was the day the thought of using it was planted in your mind. The orb held the ability to counteract the spell that stole so much from you. It could give Stephen back his memories and in turn, give him back to you.

You knew the plan reeked of selfishness but after everything you'd been through didn't you deserve to be selfish for once?

Yet the feeling of devotion that had driven you to steal the orb to begin with was exactly what had you hesitating now.

You couldn't ignore how much better Stephen's life seemed to have become since he forgot you. His eyes were brighter, features less weary. He was no longer plagued by the fear of losing you, of not living up to the man you already thought he was. A visible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Which is why you so deeply regretted this, still seeing him. Still going on these silly little coffee dates and allowing him to tell you things about him that you already knew, laughing at anecdotes you'd heard a hundred times over and just barely preventing yourself from slipping up. From taking his hand or calling him 'love.'

He was still talking, deep into one of those rants where the cool blue of his eyes brightened and the corner of his lips turned up at the end of each sentence. You knew you had to leave him soon.

The longer you left the shovel in his hands the deeper he'd dig your grave.

“I promised a neighbour I'd help them with groceries,” you lied with surprising ease. It was an attempt to ease your escape but things were never easy with Stephen.

“They can't do their own shopping?” he asked, his expression shifting to one of amusement.

“They are eighty-two.”

Stephen's smile broadened. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the one getting cats out of trees and carrying elderly ladies' groceries.”

You stood, grasping your cup as you did so. “I'll give her your number,” you promised.

If your sudden lack of enthusiasm hadn't been a dead giveaway to Stephen that something was wrong then the way in which you'd begun to pick at the paper sides of your coffee cup was. That, and your sudden inability to look at him.

“Hey.” His hand gently circled your wrist. “You're sure everything is okay?”

You glanced down at him and immediately wished you hadn't. He was watching you with genuine sincerity and the desire to help a friend in need and for a brief moment, you almost fell victim to the urge to just tell him everything.

But you managed to bite your tongue.

“I'll see you around, doc.” You quickly took your leave, missing the recognition that flashed in Stephen's eyes at the nickname.

You hadn't seen Stephen in three weeks and in that time you had done just about everything to get him off your mind. Your desperation reached its peak exactly a week after the incident in the coffee shop. In a frenzy of emotion, you'd held the watch, the very emblem of Stephen and everything he meant to you, over the side of Brooklyn Bridge. Surely if you could let this part of him go it would make the rest of the process easier.

The fact that another two weeks had passed since and the watch still sat heavily in your pocket disproved your theory. Although you failed step one of your plan, step two would be far more straightforward. Returning the orb to the sanctum would resolve all of this. You would give up your chance of winning back someone that was clearly far better off without you, peace would be restored to the sanctum and you and Stephen could finally move on.

It would add the final piece to the nightmarish puzzle that would have to become your new reality.

Sneaking into the sanctum sanctorum was surprisingly easy, almost deceivingly so. Of course, you had the advantage of knowing both the place and its people inside out, but you'd expected someone to have caught you, a defence spell to have gone off, something.

You now stood in the centre of the room of timeless artefacts and still couldn't shake your unease. If the orb had been stolen then surely someone should have been manning the room it was taken from, right? It's not exactly like the relics concealed in the room were a dime a dozen.

You snuffed out the ringing alarm bells in your head and decided against questioning your good luck any further.

Stepping up to its designated alter, you shrugged your bag from your back and pulled out the orb. You stared at it for a long moment, catching your reflection in the swirling green at the orb's center.

‘You're doing the right thing,’ you reminded yourself firmly. ‘For him.’

A hurricane-like sound and a blinding flash of green filled the room as you placed the orb back on its stand. It sat before you almost tauntingly now. You could feel its buzzing power kissing your skin. Its green aura pulsed and you felt temptation creep back into your mind. The temptation to take it and just follow through with your plan, to allow yourself to make the selfish choice. Just this once–

A sudden blast of power so strong you could have mistaken it for a bull sent you flying back into the furthest wall. You groaned, grabbing your side as you tried to sit up.

“Stay down,” your attacker warned and you felt your heart almost give out.

“Stephen-”

The threatening resonance of Stephen's magic cut you off. “I said stay down.” His voice was dangerously low and his calmness terrified you.

You shifted against the wall and faced him, only to immediately wish you hadn't. The look of absolute contempt and distrust he watched you with made you feel ill.

“You almost had me fooled. The dates, the meaningful conversations, the pretending to know so much. All to get to this.” Stephen spared the orb a glance. “To think I believed you for so long.”

“Please,” you spoke around what you were almost certain was a broken rib. “Just let me explain.”

He shook his head.

“I don't know who you are or what backstreet terror group you work for. But whatever your plan was it ends here.”

You swallowed. Stephen's words had a layer of truth to them that he couldn't realize. If you didn't do something now it would all end here. Despite what you'd intended to do just moments ago, the burning in your eyes and the way Stephen regarded you as if you were cruelty incarnate caused your composure to crack.

“I was trying to undo your spell.” The confession felt like the first breath of fresh air you’d had in months. “I just wanted you to remember.”

Stephen took a step back and you could tell you had caught him off guard. “What?” His confusion was temporary. Anger swiftly took its place. “What did you just say?”

Well, this was it.

“Five months ago you cast a spell to prevent a multiversal incursion. Part of that spell involved making everyone forget... me.” You motioned to yourself, broken bones and misty eyes. You must have looked like someone worth forgetting. “Including you.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, “I'm not falling for that.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“Because that's what you people do!”

You flinched. 'You people.' The words stung. You knew exactly what he meant by them. 'You people that lie and steal. That put yourselves and what you want above all others. You villain.'

“I'm telling you the truth.” The words came out pained.

“Prove it,” Strange challenged almost mockingly. You’d heard that tone before, mostly on missions. When he had someone backed into a corner with all the power in his palm. He didn’t expect an answer.

“Mc'Hales Restaurant on 47th Street. That's where you took me on our first date.” You didn’t miss a beat. “And I know you wear those gloves because you hate the way people stare at the scars on your hands. It took you months before you stopped wearing them around me. You don't drive at night or when it rains. You had a dog called Einstein as a kid, you wanted to be a vet before you became a surgeon.” Stephen seemed visibly shaken by your words. “And I know you hate the water because of what happened to your sister-”

“Don't you dare.” He cut you off harshly. “You do not mention her.” His skepticism quickly gave way to anger at the very idea that you would go as far as weaponize such a painful memory from his past. “I was impressed by how much research you'd done to play this little role but you just crossed the line.”

Your head fell back against the wall in defeat.

‘Come find me.’ He'd said. ‘I’ll believe you.’ He'd said.

Still cradling your cracked rib, you dug your free hand into your pocket. Strange tensed at the action, eyes hardening when you revealed a small silver-coated pocket watch.

With no short amount of difficulty, you tossed it towards him and he hesitantly reached out to grasp it. He studied the watch as if he still wasn't entirely sure it wasn't some well-disguised grenade. He flipped it over in his hand and his eyes widened ever so slightly. He ran his thumb over its surface several times and you knew the engraving had stirred something.

“You gave it to me for our anniversary,” you said. “The year after you came back from the snap.”

It was still for a moment and you could feel your heart beating in your ears. Then an odd combination of sadness, disbelief and anger flashed in Stephen's eyes. His fingers curled over the watch, his jaw setting in anger.

You clambered to your feet with a hiss of pain before cautiously moving toward him.

“Stephen? I know it sounds insane but please just say something-”

“If what we had was real,” he started. “Then how were you so okay with erasing it all.”

His words caught you unawares and you fumbled to find an answer. You settled on brutal honesty.

“It was my job. And I wanted to keep you safe. If there had been any alternative I would have taken it in a heartbeat, trust me I would have. But there was no other way. Leaving you that day was the hardest thing I've ever done, but the only thing that could have possibly hurt more would have been losing you for good.”

Stephen watched you for a long moment as the true weight of your words set in. Then, he exhaled. The sound was shallow and weak and you knew it meant the truth had finally hit. He ran his index finger along the line of his top lip, both disbelief and remorse moulding his expression.

“Why- why would I let that happen? I'd never cast that spell if-”

“If I hadn't forced you to,” you comforted.

His gaze shifted between the watch and you. There was a glint in his eyes now, one of eager curiosity and a desperation to know more. “You're saying you convinced me to do it?”

You grinned. “You really don't know me, huh?”

He shook his head.

“I wish I did though.” His words surprised you. “I wish I could remember.”

He turned and paced away, each of his movements heavy. He stopped before the orb of agamotto. A small smile ghosted his lips.

“Smart move, reversing the spell with the orb.”

You frowned, posture growing heavy with guilt.

“It was stupid, selfish. I just wanted you back. I didn't take into consideration how much better off you were without me.”

Sadness returned to Stephen's expression. His eyes held a sorrow similar to the one you’d seen the day he let you go. He said your name gently, coaxing you to return his gaze. When you did, his features softened.

“These past few months have been a lot,” he started. “I've felt... partial. Like something was missing but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Funnily enough, the only time that feeling went away was when I was with you.” With his free hand, his fingers ghosted your cheek. “I missed you before I'd even realized I'd lost you. That's telling in itself. I think we've been through enough. We deserve to be selfish. Just this once.”

Stephen's thumb gingerly swiped across your cheek again and you were struck with the sudden realisation that you had begun to cry. But could you be blamed? Even now the guilt you felt was almost suffocating. To have him stand in front of you, completely unaware of just how better off he seemed to be without you and yet entirely willing to remember it all. You weren't worth all of this.

“It's not too late for you to walk away.” Your insecurity and guilt made themselves known. “Stephen, I want you to be happy.”

His expression shifted to one you mistook for relief. In actuality, it was wonder. Complete wonder at your selflessness, even in the face of such cruel circumstances. You'd lost everything and despite it all you just wanted him to be happy. The true weight of that fact slammed into Stephen so hard it left him short of breath.

He could see why he fell for you, why he had been falling for you for the past number of months. Why each conversation had over coffee had him questioning his sanity because the type of warmth and devotion he felt towards you shouldn't have developed so quickly. It made sense now in his eyes; as if the universe had finally realised that despite its ineffability, it would never succeed in keeping you apart.

He turned back towards the orb, hand reaching out. You caught his wrist and held him there. You said his name, encompassing in that single word all your fears, every warning, every word of caution. You paired it with a look that asked ‘are you really sure about this?’

Stephen wasn't swayed.

He looked between you and the watch still held in his other hand. Then he smiled.

Grasping hold of the orb, you watched him make quick work of its magic, his actions fuelled by certainty. The relic grew bright, pulsating against Stephen's palm. Its light flooded the room again, kissing the ceiling before dispersing with a bang and drifting towards the ground in specks of emerald green.

And just like that, Stephen was swept up in a flood of remembrance. It was like waking from a dream, slowly and then all at once. Thousands of fractured memories all falling together. The persistent feeling of having lost something was replaced with the warmth of having found it again.

Stephen looked at you as the final piece slotted into place and his world became whole again.

‘It lead me back to you.’

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