#in that she just wants to seem politically correct but she only really tolerates me

[mainfaggot]

it's so hard to be a lesbian in this household

[flower1622]

I know some people may say that Rachel represents Percy's human side and Annabeth, the demigod side. I agree with them. But, to say that Percy accepted to be what he is, so this way Percabeth is the endgame...

I don't remember the books very well. From i can see people commenting, it looks like Percy always wanted to have a normal life (Rachel). To be with someone he feels comfortable and just be himself, Sally Jackson's son. He likes his human side very much (Rachel). We see him at his best moments just being Percy.

He may have accepted his demigod side (Annabeth), but that doesn't mean he likes it. There are things we just accept because we have to tolerate them since we can't change them anyway. His relationship with Annabeth seems more like something he tolerates because he is already used to be treated "not that well" by other people. That doesn't mean he likes it. Percy only accepts everything Annabeth does to him because they were friends before and Percy can be a lonely boy. So, of course he wouldn't want to be on her bad side. She has more experiences than him in the demigod side. Percy ends up being dependent on her since there aren't many people he can trust. He sees her as someone that can save him from the loneliness. Percy and Grover get separated. So, Percy only has Annabeth. Percy is kind blind right now. Both are using their insecurities with each other. It's not really love in my opinion, more like an infatuation. Percy acts like the victims of abuse that take all the horrible things their partners do as joke or love because it may be some kind of protection their minds do, you know? So, this way they don't get more depressed and realise how miserable their lifes are. They need to have this perfect world that they think it exists in their relationships because they are totally lonely and broken inside.

After everything Percy went through, he needs to believe that something good happened in his life:

His relationship with wise girl. All relationships have flaws, but some just scream "red flags". The toxic partners usually use their emotional sides to keep the victims with them. Their traumas and fears. The victims confuse this with love and still stay with their toxic partners and accept everything they do to them. One side wants to feel loved and cared and the other is also lonely and likes to feel in control of something due to their insecurities.

I'm not a therapist or something like that and i don't remember the books very well. I just commented because i saw many posts talking about the toxic relationship of Percabeth. So, if i said something wrong, i'm sorry and you can correct me (just try to be polite please).

The real Percy without being influenced by his insecurities would want to date a human girl like his mother and stay with his family than risk everything for just a girl. I guess. When people compare Annabeth to his demigod side, just makes it worse because Percy always tries to stay away as possible as he can from this side. They would never work out in real life. They have completely different interests. It's the same to say that the guy wants to have a family, but the girl doesn't. It happened in real life with a famous couple that i won't mention here. They broke up in the end. Rachel could be the only choice that would make sense with Percy. The rest are very related to the demigod life, even Jason and Nico maybe.

[matan4il]

Good morning Alice!! If you don't mind, may I add something to the topic of antisemitism? Because in the last year, I had 2 things happen in my personal life that made it blaring to me how much subconsciously for some antisemitism was back on the rise. I am not Jewish, although I am luckily enough to be surrounded by many different Jewish communities and families. In turn, I also live in a progressive city and have always felt I am surrounded by tolerant open-minded people.

But first it was a brunch I was at with some friends. Someone I have known since high school was complaining about a bonus she got and said something like, "Dude, the owners are acting like such Jews." I was taken aback and like what did you just say?? She seemed surprised and was like well that's how people in the office describe them. I mean, I watched Schindlers List with this girl in high school, and I reminded her of everything we learned. The thing is, I know her and her family and have never heard them speak this way. So it's horrible to think she subconsciously always felt that way, or maybe never has, but the term has become mainstream enough again that people felt comfortable using it to describe owners of their company.

The second time was a movie someone recommended to me. Based on what I do for a living, they were being friendly and thought I would enjoy it. I will be sort of vague here so as not to give away spoilers and / or open up the politics of the person involved in the scene. The movie is called "You People". Let's just say I found the movie a bit off putting to start, but then came a scene where someone was bragging about Farrakhan to a Jewish couple. I almost dropped my wine and turned off the movie. In my opinion, the Jewish couple were written kind of as clueless in this scene and the people praising Farrakhan as smart. I only finished the movie because I was waiting for this attitude to be corrected or changed. I was disappointed that it never was. The Jewish couple "learned a lesson." I, of course, messaged the person back and told them what I found problematic about the movie, and again, the person was bemused by my disdain. For me, though, I was just shocked this perspective was able to make it through production. I mean, everyone involved in this movie was never like, maybe this is a bridge to far??

My major point here is that it's scary all this has again become a mainstream thought process. People seem not to notice the repeat of history. I talk to a lot of families all over from very diverse Jewish families. So maybe I am a bit more biased because I hear stories of families in New York that have to hire security to take their children to school because the hate crimes are so bad. However, you never read about it in the media.

My rule now is to not assume anyone is not hearing these things and somehow absorbing it and inadvertently pushing it on. Always be ready to correct or remind someone that yes, they are being hateful. Sorry for the essay I just wanted to point out how people can notice it even from people they least expect it from. Please feel free to correct any POV I presented. You know I always wish to learn!!

As always, stay safe, and I hope you are feeling ok. xoxo

Also, don't feel bad if you don't post this because you don't want to get political on here. I would completely understand

My darling, it is so good to hear from you, no matter what, but especially on such an important topic as antisemitism that is NOT talked about enough.

Thank you for sharing both of these incidents. The first one is just so blatant... I mean, it's clear "Jews" is being used in a negative manner, so how can there be ANY confusion about it being an antisemitic way of expressing oneself? You don't even have to know the specific bloody, hateful history of this particular antisemitic stereotype that links Jews to money hoarding to get that it's a hateful thing to say. And in the case of this stereotype, it really isn't in the past. Just the other day, I reblogged a post about Ilan Halimi, who in 2006 was kidnapped, tortured, mutilated and burned alive because of this antisemitic notion, before he passed away. I'm shocked that in her office, it's an okay thing for anyone to say, but I can't help thinking... this girl can't be stupid, right? So even if she heard it from countless people, there should have been something in her telling her that using the word "Jews" like that is antisemitic and wrong.

As for the movie You People... *sighs* I have it downloaded and waiting for me to watch it. I've tried watching it twice now, and twice I couldn't get past the second scene (when the first one is "just" the movie's opening). So I haven't gotten yet to the part you're describing, but I have no doubt you're spot on in your assessment of it, and honestly... For those who don't know, Farrakhan is a raging antisemite, and praising him to Jews would be akin to the Jewish family praising David Duke (a notorious anti-black White Supremacist) to the black family, and no one pointing out why that's wrong and offensive.

There are several American movies I'm aware of that are based on the concept of "black vs white families who would normally dislike each other have to overcome their differences because their kids wanna get married". This is a concept that works based on the tension between those whose ancestors suffered from slavery in the United States and those whose ancestors were responsible for it. The most basic issue I have with You People is that the white family from the original concept has been replaced with a Jewish one. Since presumably this is meant to work on the same kind of tension, that already implies Jews were responsible for the enslavement of black people in the US. This is not true and has even been recently addressed with historical research on this precisely due to this new antisemitic lie spreading and putting Jewish lives in danger.

I guess that brings me to an issue that's a continuation of something I brought up in my Jewish representation post: American movies and shows hardly ever show us any kind of antisemitism except for the "classic" type trafficked by the Nazis. And the problem with that is that there are so many other kinds, too! We don't represent them in our media, so people don't know to recognize them. And we are not giving young Jewish people and allies of the Jewish community the tools to identify these forms of antisemitism and the weapons to fight back against them.

At some point, I might be able to stomach getting through the movie to detail everything I think is wrong with it, because from what I've heard from you and from @geekgirl101, there's gonna be a lot I would have to rant about. But for now, maybe I'll just mention that the movie has been pretty universally rejected and condemned by the mainstream Jewish community and its allies. Here are just some of the many scathing articles criticizing it:

Critics pan ‘painful’ portrayal of Jews in race relations rom-com ‘You People’

The woke antisemitism of Netflix's 'You People' - opinion

You People's Outrageous Antisemitism

Jew People

Instead of giving us a contemporary Black Jewish story, Netflix’s ‘You People’ erases Jews of color

Netflix’s You People has a problem with Jew people

Netflix Hit 'You People' Branded 'Horribly Damaging' to Jewish People

Thank you for this ask and for caring! Thank you for helping me to still have faith in humanity. Sending you all the love! As always, here's my ask tag. xoxox

[sunder-the-gold]

I really must wonder, what had you invested in the Brother Gods of RWBY? Most people I lurk seemed to just sign them "assholes to be kicked in the nuts" after the Ozma's task reveal. What matter brought you to be rooting for the Brothers, especially their feud, with GoL's side and why? Can you tell me about your insight on the characters of those Brothers and why you think so? These are very genuine questions with genuine curiosity have a nice day drink your water regularly

It never occurred to me to question your genuine curiosity. You’ve shown nothing but sincerity so far.

But you’ve asked a very difficult question, by asking me to compare myself to others. What a minefield.

Obviously, I think I am correct; else I wouldn’t think what I do, and I would change my mind to think something else.

So, if I think something different from the majority, and I think I am right to do so, how do I justify this without supposing myself wiser, smarter, or more compassionate than the majority?

Misotheism

You’ll find advocates who won’t tolerate hearing a single criticism of Team RWBY, and will dismiss any as misogyny. You’ll find critics who can’t say a single good thing about Team RWBY, and for all I know they might well be misogynist. Some of Jaune’s worst critics might be misandrist.

So, maybe the worst critics of the Two Brothers are misotheists -- people inclined to hate gods or any personages in godlike positions of power and authority.

I’m certainly not a misotheist, so I’m not predisposed to hate the gods. I try to judge the gods according to their own actions, as well as according to their perspectives and intentions.

Just Sibling Things

One factor of my sympathy towards the Two Brothers, and the Older Brother in particular, is that I myself am an older brother. My younger brother and I are “Irish Twins”, in that he was conceived relatively shortly after I was born, and so most of our lives we have been roughly equal in size, strength, and skill.

I know what it is like to disagree with such a brother, and to do everything in my power to bend him to my will, including the final resort of violence. I know the ultimate futility of changing someone else’s mind with appeals to reason, appeals to emotion, or even threats of force, and thus the importance of achieving a good relationship based on respect and compromise.

I was also the more creative one, and my brother the more destructive one, though my brother was nowhere near as terrible as the Younger Brother. Unlike the Younger Brother, mine was by far the more sociable of the two of us, so I have an inkling of how the Older Brother couldn’t bring himself to kill the Younger Brother and leave himself alone in the universe... assuming such a feat was even possible for the two of them.

“No” Means “No” (but it doesn’t mean “I hate you”)

I also grew up respecting my mother’s authority and trusting in her love for me. I learned early in life that my parents had limited resources and couldn’t give me everything I asked for, or even everything that they wanted to give me without being asked.

Mother would certainly try to explain herself if I asked Why, but she made it clear very early that she would never tolerate whining or tantrums. If I could not request for something politely or offer a polite counter-argument, the answer would automatically become “No”. Because she wanted my brother and I to know how to persuade other adults by the time we had become adults.

Thinking More Than One Step Ahead

Some people have what I think is called “Phase 1” thinking, where they can only imagine the immediate reaction to an action and they stop there, content that their goal is achieved with no consequences.

For example, they look at how the God of Creation, at best, only bowed his head and turned his eyes away in sorrow as his brother murdered the first humanity. (Some fans don’t even bother to remember that much detail, because it contradicts their headcanon that the Brothers are equally at fault.)

Their Phase 1 thinking is that the Older Brother should have intervened to protect humanity, and then the whole thing would just magically blow over with no consequences.

Phase 2+ thinking is recognizing that is a childish fantasy.

1) There is no way words would have stopped this war. Words didn’t stop the God of Destruction during the divine war; limited violence followed by words of reconciliation did.

2) The Younger Brother was rearing for a physical fight just from the Older Brother barging into his room to enforce the rules they had agreed upon. For his brother to assault him after humanity did, and to do so while actually breaking their rules himself*, there’s no way the God of Destruction wouldn’t fight back. *(At least, it makes absolute sense that their original agreement would include “If they ever choose Destruction to the point of trying to destroy US, then I win our Destruction versus Creation bet and I get to destroy them.” Followed by the canonical compromise “best two out of three; I get a second chance to show they will choose Creation”.)

3) A divine fistfight between gods who can casually destroy a planet is going to result in far more collateral damage than when there was no planet for the God of Creation to worry about. As Ozpin told Pyrrha “You’d only get in the way”, but Remnant had no power to flee from the fight like Pyrrha could.

4) This isn’t the first time the God of Creation has been helpless to save his creations from his brother destroying them. This isn’t the first time his heart has been broken. Sectors of the fandom live to talk about psychological abuse and the ways that abuse-victims try to protect themselves from more pain, and they’ll forgive Cinder’s abuse of Emerald because of Cinder’s own past of abuse, but somehow that doesn’t apply to the God of Creation who NEVER WANTED things to get this bad.

The God of Life has a pool of immortality just laying around waiting to be used, and his brother is the God of Death, and people place equal blame on the God of Life that his equal and opposite demands that people die.

Because the God of Death resurrected ONE mortal out of envy for his brother and for his own flattered ego, that somehow erases the fact that he’s logically the ultimate reason why Ozma died in the first place, and it means that Salem didn’t actually need to hear the explanation she didn’t want to hear from the God of Life about why he couldn’t afford to bring Ozma back even though he wanted to.

Phase 1 thinking. The next phase would be realizing that if the Older Brother hadn’t intervened, the Younger Brother would have found himself constantly inundated by humans begging for their loved ones back, and when he would inevitably refuse, they would begin shouting at him like Salem shouted at his brother, and like others certainly shouted at the Older Brother many times before Salem.

And I don’t think the God of Destruction would have responded to angry demands as gracefully as his brother.

[talenlee]

Gaylors, Apes, Qanon And That Person You Hate

Sometimes when I’m talking with people about the weird kind of behaviours of cults, I try to draw comparisons to things in the real world they might be familiar with. Then it turns out that actually, most people aren’t familiar with these things either because the people I explain these ideas to are typically not brain-poisoned terminally online gigaweirdoes who research online cult behaviour.

When I use the word ‘cult’ in this context, I am referring specifically to the notion of a community that has:

Claims of special revelation

Tightly patrolled social boundaries

A self-enforcing resistance to correction

I won’t go too deep into these three traits, but suffice to say anyone who’s going to try and @ me about using this term when it’s used to persecute I dunno, the Shakers, I will politely tell you to fuck all the way off to the moon. But you might notice my definition doesn’t require any kind of religious or spiritual definition, and I consider that important. Cults can form around all sorts of things, and while charismatic leaders who want to fuck their flock are an obvious lightning rod for attention, there are other ways cults can form. Sometimes, they can form around people who not only don’t know who they are, but want nothing to do with them.

Let’s start with a simple one that’s borne out of what feels like a specialised kind of internet wishful thinking, but is reasonably harmless when you set aside the actual homophobia involved. Gaylors are a community of people who believe that the billionaire pop star and most successful mid artist in the history of successful mid artists, Taylor Swift, is secretly a big ole queer, and she’s being kept from expressing herself by her wealthy handlers.

The rationale for this is through secret readings of her lyrics. It involves taking the text of a bunch of songs and then interpreting them as being about something much deeper and more intricate than they are. This seems to me to be a very natural impulse because broadly speaking Taylor Swift seems to produce songs that are as complex as I Heart You while all filtered through the persona of the most thin-skinned petty white girl you’ve ever met. Consider off her recent album:

You wouldn’t last an hour In the asylum where they raised me

Consider: Taylor Swift grew up on a Christmas Tree farm, which she described as ‘the most magical childhood.’ This isn’t about how she was raised. This is probably her describing the attention she gets and how hard it is to be the most successful artist in the world and also a billionaire. To which I say: You can fucking stop any time, Taylor.

But what if you like Taylor Swift’s perfectly tolerable music and don’t like feeling like you have the tastes of a part-time mall hairdresser? Well, you do what any other overly-invested dork does when they realise they have to share common space in media with people they disdain, and you invent wild and elaborate theories about how it’s actually deeper than that, mom, and those fans don’t get it.

To this, we have a community who recognise the social cachet of liking queer art who then decide if you don’t have interesting queer art from outsider creators, why not just pretend the stuff you already liked was actually secretly queer art! These people then spend their time combing over lyrics to share with one another the hypothetical hope that they’re dealing with an incredibly interesting person who sends them cryptic messages rather than… that.

This is an example of this kind of information cult that is, in my opinion, largely harmless except in the way that they are people being assholes about their fandom in common spaces. They are absolutely engaging in a self-confirming group delusion; I think when Taylor Swift tells you to stop speculating about her sexuality, and you respond with ‘what she really means is,’ you’re absolutely just being a dickhead and anyone not already heavily invested in the secret communal truth can tell.

Anyway, onto people who are ruining their family’s lives.

In January 2021, a Stock Market Thingy happened. There are documentaries, explainers, guides and at least one major movie about it, and the actual thing that happened is something you can spend a lot of time learning about and shouldn’t fucking bother with. It’s as complicated as you want to discover but the core of what it is is that if you invested before January 2021, you could have made a lot of money, if you got out before the money machine broke. That’s usually where the story ends, where get a load of this, a lot of normal people who aren’t The Stock Market Boys successfully did a stock market thing, hooray, capitalism has successes in it, and maybe things are great.

Anyway, a lot of those people who we talk about as having successfully manipulated the stock market didn’t, and instead were left, after the point where they could make money, as now merely ‘investors’ in a company called Gamestop that isn’t very good and isn’t going to make much money. And these people have, collectively, decided with a lot of Reddit style ‘positive vibes only’ as expressed by the kind of ‘I love science’ brain ding dongs, that in fact, that wasn’t even the real thing and the real thing is going to happen later. Any day now.

What results from this is that now there is a community of extremely hostile weirdoes who are convinced that if they just keep buying Gamestop shares, no matter what, that they are going to wind up becoming rich on the scale of the downfall of the entire economic system of the United States and maybe the world. I use the term ‘GME Apes’ for these people, because they use monkey imagery and it relates to the stock code for gamestop. They use other terms for one another that I don’t want to repeat in common conversation.

It is a cult complete with its insular secret revelation, its own socially patrolled boundaries, and its own rituals that reinforce that behaviour. And while with the Gaylors, they’re mostly being annoying on lyrics meanings sites and social media, this is people spending money, money from their jobs and family, to prop up the stock price of a company that not only doesn’t care about them but will never reward them for their hopeful behaviour.

You can go your entire life without interacting with these people. But if you work at say, a Gamestop, there’s a nonzero chance you’ve had someone walk into the business to lecture you about it. The thing that really concerns me are the members of this community who keep it hidden from their families and spend shared funds. And also there’s the way that this cult is compatible with other conspiracy cults that tend to wind up just straight up mainlining antisemitism.

Oh hi Qanon, what are you doing here?

The Qanon movement is a legitimate component of modern American political discourse that serves to manufacture and test-bed ideas that can then be laundered into ‘common wisdom’ that other more mainstream sources then repeat. Sometimes it’s old news, sometimes it’s new things – they’re responsible for catapulting ‘adrenochrome’ into the common dictionary, for example.

The idea at the heart of Qanon is this: There is a special level of clearance above all the things you’ve heard of, inside the US Government and a secret agent named Q is using an anonymous internet forum to share information that nobody has. When Q started out, it was a creative fiction, a LARP of sorts, which tried to explain that not only was Donald Trump exactly what the awful fans wanted to be, but the only reason things weren’t happening the way he wanted to wasn’t because the real world is boring and procedural and Donald Trump was a big dumb loser and liar and failure of a human just the absolute worst kind of dude, just the sheer idea of ‘America’ in the worst possible form of it, poured into a sack and made into a person. Uh where was I. Anyway, yeah, Q forwarded the fiction of a secret hidden state with a bunch of secret players and code words and so on was doing things.

The fantasy that Q offered is ‘what if things weren’t boring and disappointing, but instead interesting and exciting in the dumbest possible way.’ And there’s a conversation about the way that Q kind of restructures a modern understanding of what a cult is. After all, one of the common traits described in a cult is a charismatic leader. Under conventional models where a cult is something an individual twists around themselves, it’s easy to see that Qanon fails because the closest thing it has to a leader is the one person who isn’t involved in it: Donald Trump.

Instead, Qanon is a bubble of basically, Qinfluencers who are, I cannot stress this enough, absolute bozos and losers. They are people who inevitably have no actual things to recommend them as being actually good at or impressed with things, and they’re essentially monetising being dungeonmasters for rooms full of some of the most forgiving players ever. But Qanon doesn’t need to be good it needs to be shareable. It’s a social media cult in the purest way, where things are broken down into either shareable ideas that express disgust and rage with an outsider, or something that expresses joy and reassurance at the insider.

It is a pure meme swarm, coalescing not around what is coherent, but what complies with the immediate needs. You can watch conspiracy thinking in action through the whole mess, as each individual idea that gets expressed suddenly and immensely gets addressed with an ad-hoc excuse that may or may not actually address it and may even be explicitly contradictory of what was just said. There is nothing to this that can be true, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s supposed to feel right.

There are other examples. Consider that there are communities focused on attempting to determine some secret truth or investigating the ‘real’ genders of people, or of trying to determine the crime or fault of a streamer, and where any information that confirms or denies the conspiracy is seen as just more proof of the conspiracy.

This creates a literal cult environment; people who believe they have some special insight into their own enforced and demanded truth and where anything the subject does or doesn’t do cannot change that. You might well know the names of some people who are subjected to this kind of community. There are some people who you may only know exist thanks to the cult hating them making actual content that packages their belief to a general audience.

Maybe think about that?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[donutloverxo]

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

[fernweh-writes]

Hey, can I maybe request the slasher with an S/O that is a native German speaker and that she has a hard time speaking English? Or just a s/o that isn’t a native English speaker?

Like she can understand English really good but when she has to speak she begins to stutter and maybe how she pronouns words is kinda wrong? And that she is really insecure about it and her accent and afraid that it’s not understandable what she says?

I already say thank you really much!!💕

I’m always more than happy to write wholesome slasher hc’s! Hopefully I titled this correctly, if not please correct me.

-Fern🌿

Slashers x Non Native English Speaker

Michael Meyers

This boy is not fazed by anything ever, reacts to nothing. It’s safe to say his poker face is absolutely unmatched. You won’t have to worry about weird looks or an annoyed response from Michael.

His patience is also unmatched. All that stalking takes time you know. So he’s more than okay with giving you time to say things correctly if you need it. In other words, it’s okay take your time.

Always makes sure to nod so that you know he heard what you said and understands you. Secretly enjoys hearing you to talk and thinks your accent is endearing. He makes sure to let you know he’s paying attention so that you’ll keep talking.

Of course, Michael isn’t very affectionate and is overall kinda awkward. He is good at reading you though and can pick up on the fact you’re insecure about he way you talk. Expect some awkward head patting whenever you get frustrated when trying to pronounce something correctly.

If you hate being corrected though then Michael is your perfect match. He doesn’t talk so he’s never going to say anything about it. Wouldn’t correct you even if he was talkative though.

Anyone at work giving you a hard time about your accent and stuttering at work? Oh, they turned up missing and were later found dead? That is truly unfortunate, who knows how that happened, that’s so weird.

Bo Sinclair

He’s an ass, it’s in his nature to tease you for your accent and stuttering. Bo would spontaneously combust if he wasn’t able to pick at you. It’s all lighthearted teasing though, so don’t take any of it to heart.

However, if someone else teases you about the way you talk well… they’ll be beyond Vincent’s repair to put it lightly. Refuses to have someone who makes fun of you immortalized in his town.

Bo also has that thick southern accent which means you can tease him right back. Oh you didn’t pronounce something correctly? Well at least you don’t say ya’ll’d’ve. (Means ya’ll would have for those who might not know)

Southerners just take every word and find a way to shorten them or shove them together so you have plenty to make fun of him for. Although he finds it funny when you try to mock his accent.

Bo would rather die than admit it but he does find your accent and stutter cute. He’s also entertained by the way you try to pronounce things from time to time and can’t help but to laugh at you with you.

Vincent Sinclair

He’s pretty indifferent about the whole thing. If you can respect the fact he can’t talk, then he can respect the way that you do talk.

Is always quick to reassure you that there’s no need to be insecure or embarrassed about your accent or mispronounced words. He doesn’t want you to think you’re inconveniencing him in any way because you’re not.

If he can deal with his brothers ridiculous accents then what makes you think that he can’t deal with your accent. You probably pronounce more accurately than Bo or Lester could ever dream of.

Bo is teasing you? Vincent dares him to say royal. Go on Bo, say it since your such a scholar, go on, do it. Bo will never make fun of you again.

Vincent is very patient and encourages you to take all the time that you need to say things right. He’s not going to rush you, it’s not like life is busy in the little town. Even if he’s busy with work he has plenty of time to listen.

Having someone just sit and talk to him while he works is refreshing. Please just sit and talk to him about everything and nothing, he adores it.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms has plenty of free time and plenty of lessons. Honestly, I would be surprised if he didn’t know a few phrases in at least one different language.

Would be more than happy to learn your native language if you’re willing to teach him. Brahms is smarter than you would think and is quick to pick up at least a few phrases. Immediately wants you to teach him how to say I love you in your language though.

Also just likes to hear you speak in your native language. He may not understand it, but he thinks it sounds pretty nonetheless.

“Be good to him and he will be good to you.” If you’ve been good to him he’ll be patient and kind to you. Doesn’t mind the way you might trip over words or mispronounce them. His patience will only wear thin when he’s upset with you but even then he’ll normally just shut himself back into the walls.

The Heelshire mansion is full of books and you’re expected to read to Brahms every day. Once Brahms reveals himself he uses the time you read to him as an opportunity to teach you how to pronounce words correctly. He makes sure to be polite when correcting you since you’ve been so sweet to him.

Thomas Hewitt

He enjoys just listening to you talk to him. It doesn’t matter what you talk to him about, he simply enjoys the company and loves that you’re able to fill the silence.

Won’t allow any of his other family members to even mention anything about the way you talk. He remembers how much he hated being made fun of for his appearance and refuses to let anyone ever make you feel that way, especially his own family.

Of course, Luda Mae is more than patient with you. You make her son happy so she’ll make sure that you feel comfortable and at home in the Hewitt household.

Thomas always seems to be able to understand you. Maybe it’s the fact he doesn’t talk that makes him able to understand others really well. You can always pick up on what he means just by gestures and expressions and he can do the same for your mispronounced words.

Makes sure to let you know that he finds the way you talk adorable. Honestly, he’s in awe of just about anything you do. Thomas loves you to much to ever view you in a negative light.

Billy Loomis

He has a habit of always correcting you when you mispronounce words which can get old pretty fast. Billy doesn’t mean for it to be rude but his attitude always makes the way he corrects you to seem like an insult.

Would probably act like he can’t understand you sometimes because he simply thinks that it’s funny. No one said that Billy was ever a nice person.

Although he’s allowed to make fun of you, anyone else who tries will quickly become his next victim. You’re his to make fun of anyone else who tries must have a death wish.

Does his best to be considerate if you tell him that you’re insecure about your accent and the way you trip over words sometimes. He’s not the best with emotions or making people feel better but he’ll make sure that you know it doesn’t bother him.

Feels bad if he ever makes you feel bad. Billy does have a tendency to go to far even though he’s better at reading the room than Stu could ever be.

Stu Macher

You thought Billy was bad about the teasing? Stu really doesn’t know when to stop joking around and be serious for once. For a serial killer you’d think he’d be better at reading people, but Stu does a terrible job of it. Takes the teasing way to far.

When he finally figures out he’’s hurt your feelings though he makes sure to be more considerate of what he says. Uses grand gestures as an apology and only uses actually saying I’m sorry as a last resort.

Even though he teases you, he really doesn’t mind your accent or stuttering. You’ll be lucky to even get a chance to talk considering that Stu loves to talk and does so all of the time. He does not shut up.

He’s big on making sure you don’t feel insecure when talking around him though. Even though he loves to hear himself talk it’s no fun if you’re to nervous to add to the conversation.

Goes around telling people he has a foreign babe.

Jesse Cromeans

Jesse isn’t fazed by your stuttering or heavy accent. In fact, it’s probably one of the things that draws him to you. To him, it makes you seem innocent and Jesse loves the idea of someone as corrupt as him having someone as sweet as you love him. Thinks he has you wrapped around his finger when really, it’s the other way around.

Preston would be the one to give you hell about it and Jesse will kick his ass before the smart ass comment can even leave his mouth. Spann would be the one constantly correcting you because she thinks that she’s so prim and proper. Jesse will make sure she keeps her mouth shut as well.

Sometimes he has to make sure that he understood what you said. You’re phone will ping with his best guess of what you just tried to say with a bunch of question marks around it. He’s doing his best okay.

Absolutely loves it when you talk to him so he makes sure that you don’t feel insecure when talking to him. You’re to cute to just sit there and say nothing, he wants to know what’s going through your cute little head.

Keeps an eye on you at work and in public. No one gets away with teasing you, especially not girls who could only wish that they were you. We all know that Jesse targets women.

Asa Emory

Honestly, he would see you as something exotic for his collection.

He’s an entomology professor, not an English professor, he could care less about your accent and mispronounced words. He also has a lot of patience but Asa still won’t hesitate to give you an annoyed look when he’s busy.

Unlike most of the other slashers he’s not going to tease you for the way you talk. Asa has more class than that. Instead, he’ll tease you about the way you begged for him to give you what you wanted.

Won’t tolerate anyone else joking around about your accent since he knows your insecure about the way you talk. He’s an intimidating person and he uses that to his advantage. Besides, if they keep trying they won’t be alive much longer anyways, Asa will make sure of that.

He still corrects you from time to time. If you’ve been having a rough time he won’t, he doesn’t want to make you feel worse. But if he thinks you’re able to handle the criticism he’ll correct your pronunciation. Believes that you have to learn the correct way to say things at some point right.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

The Eggfam Sitcom Pitch

The Parent:

Dr Ivo Robotnik | Eggman - evil villain supreme and creator of about one-shit billion robot children. The robots that have more sentience consider him their dad and are very protective of him despite his varying levels of niceness to them. He does have a soft spot for them, whether or not he shows it, though he mainly focuses on capturing Sonic the Hedgehog, local mobian hero.

The Children:

Metal Sonic  - insists he is the oldest because he was built first, even though he’s mentally a teenager and we’re pretty sure Coconuts was created first anyway, but we don’t like to argue with him. He’s partially nonverbal, very stubborn, and competitive as hell. The only one Bokkun listens to, somehow, as well as the only one not unnerved in the slightest by Tails Doll. I think his inner narration should be heard throughout the show like Scrubs.

Scratch and Grounder - twin robots, designed respectively after a chicken and a god-only-knows. Scratch is the more take-charge of the two while Grounder is the more dim-witted. They argue all the time with each other and with everyone else. Because they never get any reactions from Metal Sonic, they believe that they don’t bother him. They do. Very much.

Coconuts - small little angry monkey, perpetual disappointment of the family. You know Garry/Jerry from Parks and Rec? That’s his role in the show. He’s mentally the oldest/most responsible and also the most frustrated due to the aforementioned JerryMandering. The focus of the most of Bokkun’s pranks.

Metal Knuckles - more of a quiet loner than the others, and unlike the rest, has the ability to think before they act. They’re not as concerned with getting Eggman’s approval, instead just trying to do their job as best they can. Due to these traits, they’re the least likely to get pulled in wacky shenanigans. They still will, just not as often as everyone else. They use they/them pronouns now because I said so.

Decoe and Bocoe - two humanoid bodyguard robots. Of the pair, Decoe is smarter, though they both have a lot of ignorance in regards to social smarts. Both of them are clumsy but friendly, and a constant annoyance to Metal Sonic.

Bokkun - the ultimate “spoiled youngest child” archetype. Bokkun has the mentality of a 6-8yo in the most annoying way possible. She is a messenger robot mainly but tends to end her messages by blowing something up. She also is obsessed with sweets and pranks and constantly teases the other bots to the point where they keep trying to fight her (with the exception of Metal Sonic, as the two of them seem to tolerate each other). However, they can also be a HUGE crybaby and have quite the temper. She uses she/they pronouns now because I said so.

Orbot and Cubot - another pair of robots with a very clear smart/dumb dichotomy. Orbot is much more calm and collected, while Cubot is quite random and often malfunctions. The two of them, unlike the other bots, don’t have a sibling dynamic and instead have more of an “obliviously blissful married couple” vibe. So they’re less siblings of Metal Sonic and his squad and more the weird uncles who somehow get into just as much chaos.

Tails Doll - nobody is sure what Tails Doll is or where it came from or what it can do. At this point we’re not even sure if Robotnik created it. Tails Doll never speaks, only stares into the middle-distance. If you look directly at it, you will either hear pure white noise or very ominous music. We do not know how it can fly or operate, especially since we don’t think it has any mechanics inside. It does what it wants and nobody can stop it. Its pronouns are unknown to us mere mortals so you can just call them by anything.

Belle - the youngest of the Robotnik fam. She was built during Eggman’s “Mr Tinkerer” phase, and thus is very sweet, polite and gentle, with a disposition towards goodness, making her a huge outcast among the Robotnik Lab. Most of the time she’s trying to live with the Sonic Squad™ but due to shenanigans she often ends up kidnapped and thus stuck in a room with her siblings who try to teach her how to behave evilly before these stupid hedgehogs can irreversibly correct her moral code. She’s got the awkward, confused new kid vibe.

The Disowned Children:

Breezie - one of Eggman’s oldest bots, and the first one who permanently rebelled. She was an assassin-bot, but now she runs a talkshow and has a pretty stable life with Junior. The two of them stay out of everyone’s crap most of the time, minding their own business, but sometimes they’ll stop over for holidays because they love drama and wanna see what happens.

Junior - another one of Eggman’s “lost” bots, he was designed to be Eggman’s son, only to decide that Sonic was cooler. He’s now a construction worker helping to repair damage that is mostly caused by his creator. He lives with Breezie and while they stay out of everyone’s way most of the time, the two of them are suckers for drama so they’ll show up every now and again just to throw Eggman off his rhythm.

E123 OMEGA - the most dangerous of Eggman’s lost bots, Omega will stop at nothing short of destroying every Robotnik creation to prove that he is superior. He lives with Team Dark, the weird cousins who are tentatively on Sonic’s side, though he will not hesitate to murder anything in front of his eyes. Everyone loves him.

and finally...... the new boyfriend:

Dr Starline - shows up to help Eggman create a Zombot virus and immediately attracts the ire of all of the lab children despite not really doing anything to them. They don’t like that Eggman is paying attention to someone else and will stop at nothing to bring him down. And probably kill him.

tell me you wouldnt watch this show. it’d be the funniest thing

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 10 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was only made aware that Wen Ruohan had fixed things when he realized that two weeks had gone by without anyone saying anything about him personally and had, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, asked one of his teachers about it.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” his teacher asked, nose deep in one of the musical scores they’d put together for the array project, hunting for the flaws. “The sworn brother business was just part of one of his schemes to gain additional power amongst the Great Sects.”

Having been involved in it, Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure about that. “What do you mean, honored teacher?”

“He’s been finding ways to form new ties with all the Great Sects, not just ours,” his teacher explained. “It’s all come out; some very clever people figured it out. There’s a new trade agreement with the Jiang sect that both sides were keeping hushed up, something going on with the head of the Nie sect that the Nie sect disciples are being especially close-mouthed about, and, of course, his new connection with the Jin sect…it’s really not that surprising that he decided to find a way into our Lan sect by trickery.”

His teacher said it casually, as if of course Lan Qiren's sworn brotherhood had been formed by a slightly underhanded maneuver rather than torture or rape or anything like that, and while of course that was in fact true, Lan Qiren was stunned by the fact that what passed for common knowledge in the cultivation world had been flipped on its head in such a short time.

Truly, Wen Ruohan’s cunning was boundless. It was a little frightening.

“Say,” his teacher added. “As his sworn brother, you’ll be attending the wedding, won’t you? You should bring back some stories!”

Lan Qiren stared blankly. “…what wedding?”

It turned out that Wen Ruohan’s new connection with the Jin sect was through a marriage. The bride wasn't surnamed Jin, that would be too much for most people to tolerate without some sort of excuse; she was instead from a powerful subsidiary sect that swore allegiance to the Wen sect, in keeping with Wen Ruohan’s preference for his own people above anyone else, but her mother was a branch cousin of the Jin sect and everyone said that it was obviously meant as a way to bind the sects together. They said Wen Ruohan had spoken openly of his desire for sons – as usual, no one mentioned the names of those of his descendants already in his sect’s memorial hall – and that there were high hopes associated with the union on both sides. The Jin sect was said to be already parading around the marriage as their newest political victory, trying to use the connection to their best advantage.

“How long has this been planned, do you think?” Lan Qiren asked Lan Yueheng, mostly out of lack of other people to ask; unsurprisingly, Lan Yueheng shrugged.

“It’s an engagement,” he said disinterestedly. “My cousin says the negotiations for an engagement can be as long or as short as everyone wants it. But surely no one would make a lifetime decision like that lightly? Not to mention an alliance between sects, however implicit. It must have been planned a long time ago.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. There was always the ambiguous situation between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie to consider, and given the way Lao Nie had spoken during his visit, it sounded as if he had encouraged Wen Ruohan to come up with some clever way out of the situation, rather than suggesting that one already existed.

Moreover, he wasn’t sure that Wen Ruohan considered a marriage to be a lifetime decision. Hadn’t he been married before, had sons before? It was only that they had all died…

“Lan-er-gongzi!” A runner came up to him, saluting. “The Sect Leader asks that you report to the hanshi at once.”

“That’s probably your invitation,” Lan Yueheng said, sounding mildly disapproving – undoubtedly he thought weddings were a waste of time compared with doing experiments. Taking inspiration from his work with Lan Qiren in merging math and music, he’d recently expanded his interests from mathematics to alchemy, and Lan Qiren grimly foresaw many exploding furnaces in the Lan sect’s immediate future. At least they had some out-of-the-way places for him to work, or else there'd also be a lot of punishments for violating the rules about too much noise in Lan Yueheng's personal future. “It’ll probably make you miss the first week of this season’s classes, too…well, try not to be too bored.”

Sadly, Lan Qiren did not think being bored would be an option.

Sure enough, when he arrived at the hanshi where his father and brother were waiting alongside several sect elders, the subject of discussion was the invitation he had received to attend the wedding.

“As Sect Leader Wen’s sworn brother, naturally you must attend,” his brother told him. “We will also be sending a delegation from the Lan sect to attend on our behalf officially, but your position is different. You must be careful not to offend anyone.”

Lan Qiren saluted. “I will do my best.”

“Sect Leader Wen will not be kind if you lose face for him, especially at his wedding, even if it is inadvertent - or even if what you do is perfectly correct by our standards,” one of the other elders, one of the older teachers, the well-respected if sleepy one, said. He sounded concerned on Lan Qiren's behalf, which Lan Qiren appreciated. “You must especially take care not to offend his new bride. Even where the marriage is made for the purpose of power and there is no expectation of love, a man does not like to have disturbances in his back courtyard.”

“Especially if the stories are true and Sect Leader Wen hopes for sons,” the teacher in swordsmanship responded, his voice a little acidic. He was still unhappy with Lan Qiren over what had happened during their visit to the Nightless City; Lan Qiren did his best to avoid him whenever possible. “I doubt Sect Leader Wen will persist in trying to raise one of our children once he has one of his own.”

That explained the sour expressions on the faces of his brother and some of the elders, Lan Qiren thought. They had hoped to use him to manipulate Wen Ruohan, though the exact method of how they would have done so escaped him no matter how he analyzed the words he had overheard that night in the hanshi, and Wen Ruohan had neatly evaded their snare with a countermove of his own – as with weiqi, so with politics, he assumed. A disappointment, as always.

“A brotherhood is for life,” Lan Qiren’s father said, voice distant as always, neutral as always. “There are ten months at minimum before any son is born, and all the years after; even if Sect Leader Wen forgets about his obligations, that does not mean that we must. There will be other opportunities.”

“Provided Qiren does not provide grounds for Sect Leader Wen to abjure the relationship,” his brother interjected.

“I will try my best not to do so,” Lan Qiren said again, stiff as always, though he suspected his brother was simply stating a fact rather than casting doubt on him. “When should I prepare myself to depart?”

“The delegation leaves tomorrow morning,” his brother said. “You will need to give a personal gift to your sworn brother in addition to the sect’s gift. I have selected several options; come with me to pick the one you prefer.”

Lan Qiren saluted the elders and wordlessly followed his brother to the treasury. He liked none of the gifts his brother had selected, thinking that they all seemed a bit too gaudy even for a recipient whose tastes tended toward the luxurious – a bit more Lanling Jin than Qishan Wen, and not at all something he would select for himself – but eventually he chose a heavy golden crown that seemed to be not too far from the ones that he’d seen Wen Ruohan wear in the past.

“Not the dagger?” his brother asked, his voice thick with irony that Lan Qiren did not understand, nodding towards another of the options, a golden-hilt blade so purely polished that one could see their reflection in it.

“Sect Leader Wen has a rich collection which we cannot hope to match,” Lan Qiren said, thinking of those peerless treasure swords rusting away as wall decorations in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom. “Moreover, it’s a wedding, which represents two parts joining together into a single whole, while a gift of a knife implies severing. It is therefore inappropriate for such an occasion.”

“Brothers who have shared blood cannot be separated. It is a suitable gift from a sworn brother.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the options, feeling a little helpless. “If you would like me to change my selection…”

“The guan is fine,” his brother said, and shook his head, seeming almost a little pitying. “You are very good to be concerned with your sworn brother’s feelings, no matter how your relationship came about. Too much goodness can be seen as weakness, you know.”

I thought I wasn’t supposed to be making trouble? Lan Qiren thought to himself. Still, since his brother did not seem inclined to elaborate, he handed the gift to one of the servants to be put into an appropriate box.

In actuality, he had already selected a personal gift of his own, shortly after he had first heard about the impending wedding – it had seemed reasonable that he would need to send a gift, even if he didn't expect to actually be invited, and it had not occurred to him that he would be allowed to utilize the sect treasury for such a thing. He’d gone to Caiyi Town and purchased a small set of drinking bowls, applying the glaze himself as the artisan spun the pots; they had gone into the kiln immediately thereafter, and he was expecting the delivery today – in fact, it was probably already waiting in his room.

He would pack the set up with his personal items and give it to Wen Ruohan anyway, he decided. After all, he’d opted to do the design in Wen sect red rather than Lan sect blue, rendering it useless for his own purposes, and it would be worse to simply throw it away or to let it sit and gather dust. Being frugal is a virtue, after all.

Of course, if he were truly being frugal, he would have told his brother that he did not need an additional gift and left the guan alone, but he didn’t want to reject his brother’s kindness, either, rare as it was. Better to just eat the loss of the funds and have Wen Ruohan think him a spendthrift…

“Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly have you stay in the Sun Palace during your visit,” his brother said abruptly, and Lan Qiren looked at him: his brother wasn’t looking at him, but into the distance, and his fingers twitched at his side in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. “As his sworn brother, it would be inappropriate for him to put you in the guest quarters, or to fail to allow you free mobility through the Nightless City.”

“That seems likely,” Lan Qiren agreed hesitantly, not sure why his brother was mentioning it.

“He is fortunate that you are not naturally observant,” his brother said. “Otherwise one might fear that you would use the opportunity to learn more about how the Wen sect works – its treasures, its secrets. Its plans for the future.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Lan Qiren said quickly. “Have courtesy and integrity, after all. Even if I were to discover something incidentally, naturally I would be honor-bound not to share it without informing Sect Leader Wen that I had done so.”

His brother sighed, his fingers abruptly unclenching. “Of course you would. How could anyone doubt it…I don’t suppose you’ve ever given any thought to Do not forget the grace of your forefathers?”

“Of course I have. That’s one of the fundamental rules,” Lan Qiren said, now absolutely bewildered. “That we should live up to the expectations of our ancestors, both in our good conduct and discipline, and in supporting our sect so that our descendants may honor them equally.”

His brother shook his head. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. You were tricked into an oath like a virgin maiden into a sweet-talker’s bed, weren't you?” he said. Lan Qiren really didn’t understand how his brother’s mind worked that he kept changing subjects like this. “I just wonder that you aren’t more resentful of the one that did it, the way anyone else would be. The way you act, you’d think Sect Leader Wen had done you a favor; you’re so considerate of him.”

Lan Qiren thought his brother might be being sarcastic, but he wasn’t very good at determining such things. “Even if the manner in which we became sworn brothers was unorthodox, the oaths have still been sworn,” he said, a little haltingly. “I cannot control his actions, only my own. Just because he might not be a good brother doesn’t mean I can’t be – isn’t that right?”

His brother glared at him. “If you have something to say, Qiren, you can say it directly.”

Lan Qiren was at an utter loss. “I – was?”

“Your teachers say that you’re brilliant,” his brother said, voice suddenly very cold. “I often wonder whether they’re not growing too old for their work.”

“I don’t –”

“Never mind. You’re dismissed.”

Lan Qiren saluted and returned to his quarters, puzzling over the conversation as he packed away his things for the trip. Was his brother trying to warn him against anyone encouraging him to act as a spy? Or was he trying to convince him to act as a spy himself? But if it was the latter, why wouldn’t he just say so? If it were truly necessary for some reason, for the good of the sect…

Was he supposed to volunteer?

But that would be truly breaking the oath of brotherhood – of which he still didn’t know the contents…

Lan Qiren supposed that, at least, was one thing he would be able to fix: very soon, he would be seeing his sworn brother again for the first time since they’d sworn their oaths.

Maybe he’d find a way to ask.

[ladyfogg]

Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary:  After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater​ and @kitwalker02​. 

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve. 

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one. 

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better. 

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked. 

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask. 

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds. 

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient. 

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you. 

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face. 

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death. 

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop. 

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages. 

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk. 

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return. 

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away.  He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head.  “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair. 

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers. 

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk. 

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon. 

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell. 

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet. 

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders. 

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back. 

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon. 

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.  

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

[crossdressingdeath]

Every so often I’ll come across a fic that has a summary that essentially reads: “after JFM brings WWX to Lotus Pier YZY takes JC to MeishanYu where he becomes the sect heir” and it always acts like this situation is a fix-it for the entire plot of the novel. And I was thinking about this premise over the past few days and realising just how little it makes sense. (I would like to clarify that I have not read any of the fics with this premise but that is because they all look to be written by JC stans and I decided a while ago that I wasn’t interested in anything like that. I would also like to say that I have only the vaguest understanding of Chinese culture so if something is glaring wrong in here I accept corrections.)

So. The logistics of the events coming to pass. The summaries imply that YZY left Lotus Pier with JC in tow, marched into her natal sect and without question JC was named sect heir and never had any problems ever.

Firstly: if YZY is such an amazing mother to take her son away from the ‘awful’ environment of Lotus Pier under JFM, why does she leave her daughter there? There never seems to be any mention of JYL also going to Meishan so this really just feels like YZY doesn’t actually care about anyone other than JC (in a similar way to the author not caring about anyone other than JC).

Secondly: the actual inheritance thing. As far as I can tell YZY and therefore JC are so far down the line of inheritance for the MeishanYu sect that it doesn’t actually matter. JFM calls YZY ‘Third Lady’ which based on my understanding means that she has two older sisters who would be the First and Second Ladies. In the line of succession her eldest sister would be first, then her children, then her second sister, that sister’s children, and then YZY and JC behind them (this isn’t even taking into account any older brothers she might have). I think I read somewhere that marriage order is based at least partially on age so we can assume that the two older sisters got married before YZY, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that the eldest child of the eldest daughter could be fifteen when JC is nine, so at the very least the eldest sister could have a child who is close to being of age (though I freely admit that I have little idea as to what is classed as ‘of age’ within this world) while the son YZY brings is a child who throws a tantrum over having his pets sent away for someone else’s mental health and being told he’s going to share a room.

(Sidenote: I know JFM has JC’s dogs sent away but for all we know they’re just taken out of Lotus Pier itself (as in the bit where the cultivators live). We know there’s a market area where non-cultivators live literally right outside so rather than sending three puppies miles away to other cities, couldn’t JFM have just found someone living outside of the cultivator’s part of Lotus Pier to give the dogs to? Wouldn’t that have been the easiest option? And one that could potentially allow JC to visit the dogs he was so upset about? Did he just not ask to see them so JFM decided that he didn’t actually care about them? Did JC go see them every week until they died and was just angry that he wasn’t allowed to own them anymore? What proof do we have that JC never saw those dogs ever again?)

Anyway, back on track. Thirdly: YZY married out of the MeishanYu sect and into the YunmengJiang sect. She was very insistent on this. She wanted this a great deal even though we know that JFM didn’t particularly want to marry her. I believe that by the culture of the time marrying out of a family meant you were no longer part of that family. Like you might visit or write and introduce your children to them but you weren’t part of the family in the sense that you weren’t in the line of inheritance for anything of that family. So YZY marching into her natal sect with her bratty son behind her, declaring that he would be the sect heir to MeishanYu honestly reads to me as YZY flat out not understanding anything about how family inheritance works. She married into YunmengJiang. By the rules of the time, she should be devoted to building up the YunmengJiang sect, not leaving and returning to her natal sect because she doesn’t like the mother of the child her husband brought in off the streets. JC especially isn’t in line for inheriting MeishanYu because he is a member of the Jiang clan. Honestly the best equivalent I can think of is if people expected Jin Ling, heir (and sect leader and the end of the novel) to LanlingJin to also take over the running of YunmengJiang even though nowhere is it implied that he’s in any way in line of that — JYL married out, any children of hers were part of the Jin clan with no inheritance in the Jiang clan (it’s also for this reason that I am firmly of the belief that Jin Ling was mostly raised at Koi Tower rather than Lotus Pier, who lets the heir to a sect be entirely raised by another sect? For all we know Jin Ling spends a couple of months a year with JC and the novel just happened to take place during those months, and it’s saying something if Jin Ling spends the entire time he has per year with JC running away on night hunts without JC there). So, to put a long point short: YZY married out of the MeishanYu sect and has literally no inheritance there and neither do her children.

Also, at this point hasn’t she essentially kidnapped the heir to YunmengJiang? I doubt JFM is going to say “oh you don’t like my best friends’ son so you want to take our son away. Of course you can do that I have no problem at all with losing my sect heir due to your petty dislike of someone who has been dead for years now. Goodbye.” JFM may not really stand up to YZY, but there’s some things even he isn’t going to tolerate from her. So YZY is causing a political disaster between her natal sect and the sect she married into by kidnapping the sect heir of one and attempting to make him the sect heir of the other. At the very least I feel like JFM could divorce her on the grounds of kidnapping his son and trying to depose the sect heir of her natal sect in favour of a child who by law cannot inherit that sect.

From what I can tell these fics look like they’re set up to be fix-its. Again, I haven’t read them, but I can feel just by reading the summaries and glancing over the tags that they’re intended to be stories about how without the father who ‘hates him so much’ and ‘that awful WWX who always held him back from his true potential’ that JC is so much happier and more skilled and also absolutely going to be the best person in their generation at everything and in at least one of these it looks like he ends up marrying LXC (which is just. No). Honestly it could be a fix-it for JYL and WWX who would no longer be being berated for their general existence (WWX) and hobbies (JYL, specifically how she likes to cook). Them growing up without YZY constantly breathing down their necks and having better mental health as a consequence? Yes please.

Honestly I wouldn’t mind seeing something where the concept was written by someone who didn’t think that ‘actually all the positive traits of other characters are JC’s character traits and also JC should have been the main character’. Something where it’s set up as YZY taking JC with her to Meishan, expecting everything to obviously work out the way she wants, only to be shot down. Her eldest sister is potentially sect leader if their parents have stepped down and has a fifteen-year-old child who everyone in the sect is pleased with as their sect heir. YZY and her expectations get shot down, it’s made clear that she and JC aren’t even in the line of succession since they’re officially part of YunmengJiang and not MeishanYu, and she’s told to leave. She returns to Lotus Pier, angry but still convinced everything there will go her way because JFM has never stood up to her before, only to get back and find JFM in the process of organising their divorce. This isn’t an internal matter due to her not doing the duties expected of the mistress of Lotus Pier anymore, this is a political matter where she kidnapped the sect heir and tried to depose the sect heir of MeishanYu. She’s legally part of YunmengJiang, her actions reflect on the sect as a whole and could be taken as hostile intent. Really the only way to keep this from potentially escalating is to divorce her so that everyone knows her actions aren’t condoned by JFM individually and YunmengJiang as a whole. The end result is that instead of JC somehow fixing everything as a result of having less political influence/lower status than before (sect heir of MeishanYu which is a minor sect compared to the sect heir of YunmengJiang which is a great sect) and without an extremely loyal WWX supporting him, YZY instead undergoes some consequences for once in her life and the family dynamic of the Jiangs + WWX might even manage to be healthier without her constantly being around to antagonise everyone.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure YZY’s children would be so far down the line of succession that they’d have to murder a bunch of people to stand a chance of ruling Meishan, and her taking JC, the heir to the Jiang sect, to another sect without his father’s permission and with the intention of deposing the rightful heir of that sect would be... just a bit of a problem, yeah. Also like. I suspect the reason YZY doesn’t canonically do that is because not even she is that stupid. That goes beyond being a bitch and straight into Actual Crimes. Also love the idea that JC, the most useless of all the great sect leaders, would be less useless in a position of infinitely less power. ...To be fair he would certainly do a lot less damage.

[belit0]

1500k Commission [Uchiha Obito / Coffy Fem Reader] @obitobrigade

Cause I rarely see this anywhere... How about Kakashi admitting to Obito he's kinda jealous that Obito got with Coffy/reader instead of him. And Obito enjoying that fact while he cuddles on the couch with Coffy(she wearing obito shirt of course) fluffy and NSFW. *same girl from my first commission*

[Writer: My imagination flew with this scenario, I hope you like it, it's not exactly the same but it meets all the requirements !]

"I think you're exaggerating a little..."

The grey-haired man said casually. He had come to Obito's house only a short while ago and they had been talking for a moment. Or rather...

"But I am not. Watch your mouth, idiot."

"All I said was that your girlfriend is indeed beautiful... what's the matter with declaring truths out loud?"

Kakashi's intentions were not as expected, and his mere presence there was for an entirely different reason. After trying to find you at home and failing, he figured it would be best to try his luck at your partner's, even if it meant crossing paths to the one who got the woman he wanted so badly.

"I swear on my life, Kakashi, if you don't shut up right now, I'm gonna..."

"Ma, ma, Obito. How grumpy you've been lately... I wonder what she saw in you such as to stay here..."

"Are you fucking with me? Do you really want us to beat each other to death in the middle of my house?”

The patience of the Uchiha was getting closer and closer to its respective limit. He was aware of the situation, you had let him know to avoid him feeling insecure, and you had asked him not to confront his friend. Sensing a deep betrayal, Obito felt his family's genes flourish when Kakashi showed up at his door, looking for you, and decided to try to torture him to get the bitter drink out of his mouth.

"Why would that happen? We're just having a conversation. Like friends do. I'd like to talk to [Y/N], is she-"

"Too bad for you, she's mine and she’s not here."

"Since when is she a thing? You bought her and didn't tell me? What did she possibly perceive about you..."

"I treat her best, you stupid bastard, and she loves me as much as I love her."

"I don't think you love her as much as I do.”

That ended his patience. It was one thing to covet his girl, which he could not tolerate, but which he could not do anything about. You are beautiful, a woman with no equal, it is obvious that looks and desire are attracted to you. But something totally different is to come and claim love, even worse, to love you more than Obito, an impossible task.

"What did you say?"

"Uh? What?"

"Repeat it if you've got the balls."

"What? That I don't think you're worthy of her? That I don't think you can handle her? That I think it must be torture for such a woman to wake up next to... you."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were my fucking friend."

"I thought so too until you decided to steal [Y/N] from me and play dirty. You have no shame."

"I believed it was me who treated her like a thing. Listen to you, you fucker. She decided. And she chose me. Deal with it yourself."

"She was fucking mine."

"She's fucking mine."

Both men faced each other, dangerously close and holding on to their clothes, threatening themselves with body and words.

Yes, perhaps at first your attention had been on the grey-haired one, but by now you were sure it was because you did not know Obito at that moment.

Once he appeared in your life, it was impossible to look at anyone else, things happened on their own and everything went as it should. Not being in any commitment with Kakashi, you put him in the back of your mind, enjoying the wonderful man you now had by your side.

More violent words continued to fill the room when everything suddenly fell silent before the noise of the main door. There, entering as if nothing had happened, with your bag and your phone in hand, looking at the screen and distractedly singing one of your favorite songs, was you.

Both of them let go of each other in front of you, wanting to pretend everything was fine and nothing was going on. Obito had promised to keep things calm and let you deal with the problem, and he really wanted to meet your expectations.

Dropping onto the couch with a murderous expression towards the other man present, he looked ahead and completely ignored the situation.

Kakashi, on the other hand, smiled seductively, quickly approaching to greet you.

"I tried to find you at your place earlier because I wanted to talk to you about..."

With just a glance at your man, you understood that he was making his best effort not to beat the other one up just then. No doubt was the right one. Determined, and with a politically correct grin, you knew what you had to do.

"There's nothing to talk about, Kakashi. I thought I had made it clear multiple times at this point.”

Faced with your statement, the Uchiha looked at you pouting. It seemed that he could start crying at any second. His insecurities were something that you worked together daily, and he had made enormous progress, but he still had a few problems.

"I insist that-"

"And I insist that you must leave, now. My boyfriend and I have things to do. May I show you the way out?"

The grey-haired man didn't need to hear anything else, and left the house with a loud slamming door, while you left your things in the entrance and sat next to your man on the sofa.

As soon as you touched the cushions, he hugged you, putting his head in your lap and his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry... I know what you said but I kept going crazy trying to do nothing... I thought I could help..."

"Love, love... it's okay... it was unfair from me to demand you not to act, it must have been difficult"

You caressed his hair, while he hid his face in your body to cover his regret. Your fingers ran over his scalp, while your nails scratched and sent warm sensations to his whole form. In your grip and drift, he was completely happy.

"Do you feel a little better now? More relaxed?

"As long as you give me your affection, I'll be fine."

"Actually, let me show you how devoted I am to you."

Rising and running his head carefully, kneeling in front of him, you looked at his sad little face, and decided to make him feel better with his preferred activity.

You stretched out to kiss him, joining the lips of both of you in a slow and compassionate smooch, caressing his cheeks and taking your time to savor him in your mouth. The Uchiha leaned back on the sofa, letting his arms fall to the side of his body, too depressed to even try and reciprocate.

Dealing with his inner doubts was always difficult for him, and when it came to you, they were even more intense. To be enough, to be at your level, to give you everything you deserve. He wanted to fulfill every one of those things. When he failed, he felt completely useless, wanting to hide in bed and not go out for days. But you had discovered the best way to work on his self-esteem was to let him know how utterly perfect he was.

You dragged your hands across the extension of his neck, across his chest, and onto his waist. There, you unbuttoned his trousers, still keeping his lips on yours at a slow pace, revealing a flabby limb.

Breaking the kiss, you knelt again and took his cock in your hands. Bending your head over his lap, you inserted it into your mouth, gradually for him to feel every wet corner of your cavity. Your tongue traveled and wrapped around his length, while you started with up and down movements.

His face contorted at your action, and a soft moan was born from within. The moment was not tinted with passion or hunger, as usual, rather it was an intimate, sweet situation, where love for each other became the professed act of the body and not words.

Hands caressing your hair, while your eyes were fixed on his worked figure, increasingly warming to your supplies.

His erection hardened to the maximum quickly, while your mouth continued to work on him. Grasping his waist, you ran over the head of his limb before sliding your tongue down, finding his sack and sucking.

"I... love you... too... much... I'm sorry...."

Releasing your cavity, you occupied one of your hands along his shaft as you stretched towards his neck, sitting on him but not imposing any weight on his limb. The fact that you were both fully clothed added a special bonus to the occasion, and by kissing his skin, you spoke.

"There is nothing to apologize for... let it go... feel me on you and remember that I am yours..."

It didn't take much more work for his seed to explode, staining both your garments while his body relaxed under you.

"I would really be lost without you."

"But that's what I'm here for."

[im-not-looking-for-forgiveness]

Could you do a Tommy fic thats inspired by Hades and Persephone?

The Underworld - Peaky Blinders Greek Mythology AU - Thomas Shelby x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry Meg that this took forever lol. I made a list for which character responds to which greek god or goddess for ease of reading. Not all are mentioned in the fic, but I thought it would be fun to share who responded to which immortal imo. This won't be a series as it's basically just the plot of season four lmao. Just a fun little twist!

Y/N - Persephone

Thomas - Hades

Arthur - Zeus

John - Poseidon

Finn - Hermes

Linda - Hera

Luca - Ares

Lizzie - Aphrodite

Polly - Athena

Alfie - Dionysus

Michael - Apollo

Ada - Artemis

Johnny Dogs - Hephaestus

Taglist: @sweetiekokkiri @haphazardhufflepuff @tarafaithe @mrsstevenbuchananstark @imagine-richards @hxnky-cat @captivatedbycillianmurphy

@tranquility-or-chaos

*****

"Here you go. Enjoy!" you said politely, handing a man his bouquet of flowers.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and left the store.

Entering a moment later was your husband, Hades. Well, Thomas for now. You could see the form of your love underneath the disguise of the Englishman in the way he moved. You couldn't take the god out of him, no matter what. You smiled dumbly at him as he flipped the shop sign to 'closed'.

"Hello, sir. See something you're interested in?" you asked sweetly, and let your fingertips trail over the leaves of the baby pomegranate tree at your end of the counter.

"Just a thing or two," the corner of his mouth lifted as he plucked a red flower from an arrangement to his left, and stuck it in your hair.

You took his hand in yours, "I've got another hour before I'm supposed to close up shop."

"Persephone," he sighed, a loving look upon his handsome face.

"Y/N, remember! And, fine. The mortals will have to go without their flowers tonight. You'll have to tell mother why, though," you laughed lightly, slipping your hand from his to tidy up.

"I'm sure she'll understand. There's a family meeting at The Garrison."

When you were finished, you hung up your apron, shut off the lights, and locked the door behind you. Hades Thomas waited patiently for you, of course.

"Will they all be there?" you wondered anxiously. You were the only one who wasn't part of the twelve Olympians, but the others seemed to tolerate you out of fear of Hades and Demeter.

"Where else would they be? Arthur is bringing Her- ahem, Linda. Ah, fuck it, no one can hear us. Poseidon mistakenly killed one of Ares' half-bloods that was starting trouble and now Ares wants revenge. He's likely planning on starting a war here in town, which will put our cover under scrutiny. We're assembling to discuss a plan of action," Hades rolled his eyes, quietly filling you in on the drama you missed while at the flower shop.

You questioned angrily, "What did Poseidon go and do that for? Didn't he know who he was killing?"

"Unclear. I'm tempted to just go back home. Coming and going here is getting quite strenuous," Hades frowned, slipping his arm around your waist.

"Oh, hush. Do you really want Ares to give you more work? All those unsorted souls to figure out? Think of all that work you did to be able to have this life here. The man I love wouldn't let him ruin it over one demigod," you reminded him of the deaths Ares could cause, and tried to instill some confidence in your husband. He didn't like conflict, but to keep what he wanted he would have to deal with it.

He gave you a look and then resigned, "I both love and hate when you're right."

"I know." you leaned onto your toes and kissed his smirking mouth. His soft lips were always impossible to part with, so it was no surprise when he was the first to break the kiss.

"Come on," he smirked, pulling you along.

*****

The peaceful walk to the Garrison quickly turned sour once you reached the pub. Dark clouds were forming overhead, a clear symbol of your brother-in-law's anger. With his short temper, one never knew what to expect.

"Where is he?" Tommy asked Aphrodite, otherwise known as Lizzie these days. She had a few empty bottles of gin beside her on the bar top, and was working on opening another. It took ten times the amount of alcohol to get a god drunk and it seemed like she was about to reach that amount.

"Trying not to get murdered by your brother," she rolled her eyes, gesturing to the deathly quiet meeting room in the back. The rest of the pub was empty, which only added to the sense of unease.

You reluctantly followed Tommy through to the back, the confidence you had previously fading with each second. Thunder boomed in the distance and rain began to fall.

"Brothers," Hades bowed, before taking his seat. You made sure to hold his hand, trying to reassure him and yourself that this had been the correct move.

"Hades. You've been told, yes?" Arthur Zeus asked, arms folded across his chest. His rings glinted in the lamplight.

"Yes, Hermes gave me an update," Hades answered solemnly, staring at Poseidon. John had the nerve to stare back, a defiant look set into his features.

"How many times must I inform you that this was an accident?" Poseidon chewed on the toothpick between his lips.

"Until I believe it," Zeus scoffed.

Hades frowned, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. This was going to be one dirty fight. Ares' energy was already causing this much tension, and it was probably exactly what he wanted.

After a few minutes the rest of the family showed up, save for Polly Athena.

"Has anyone seen her?" Apollo wondered, adjusting his suit jacket as he sat down beside his sister.

Hera answered, "I thought she was with you, Michael."

Then, the front door of the pub slammed open. The loud click of heels signaled the arrival of the goddess of strategic war, and you let out a small sigh of relief. If there was anyone who could help best Ares, it was her.

Polly demanded upon entering, "So which one of you idiots let Ares go on a rampage?"

[gatheringbones]

[“O’Brien: How has it been, the “they explaining” and being out?

Bauer: You know so, for a long time, not for a long time. So after I came out I said that I was “pronoun challenged” and so I’d go to these meetings and people would sit in a circle and go around with their name and pronouns. And I don’t want to use she, but I don’t want to use he in my regular life. And I hadn’t really been using they either so I just say that I’m just “pronoun challenged” or “pronoun fucked”– just call me Jaime. And skip the pronouns, which you would think that almost nothing is more awkward than using they, but not using pronouns at all is even more awkward. So I tolerated, you know because most people don’t use your pronouns in your presence, they use them when you’re not there. I told Donna just use whatever pronouns you want, and I’m not there I’m not going to object to it. Because she had already told everybody in the world what I was doing and everybody that she knows, knows that I had top surgery and changed my name and all this so. But I really didn’t want to be in a political group or meeting all new people as well as some people that have known me for a long time and use she. So I really made a decision to use they, you know there is some special snowflake-ism to it but I’m more comfortable with it now than I was three or four years ago. And I really want to move away from she, and have people stop using she but I’m not really a he either. And so I just want people to gender me as me. Which is not so easy and is certainly almost impossible with strangers.

O’Brien: Could you imagine that opening up more in the future?

Bauer: So this gets back to the testosterone. So without the testosterone and being read as gender nonconforming as opposed to being gendered as male– although I get a decent male gendering, decent amount of that. I wish that it was as easy to wear male pronouns as it is to wear quote on quote “male genes.” And in this society it’s really not and so it feels, it doesn’t feel right for me to ask people to use he pronouns for me. Both because I don’t necessarily feel that he is the best option. And because again I’m not on testosterone, I’m not visually moving more towards– one’s visual looks should not have to match one’s pronouns 100% but it’s like do I want, how much energy do I want to put into correcting people’s pronouns for me and how much energy do I want to put into living my life?

O’Brien: I feel like how a lot of early 20-somethings have dealt with that is to just hang out in a gender queer centered community, right. To like form a subculture where non-conventional pronouns are intelligible to everyone. And to like not deal with the rest of the world.

Bauer: Yeah but that doesn’t work in real life.

O’Brien: Yeah.

Bauer: You know and eventually it will, and it’s like every year they gets a little bit more circulation and will eventually become something people stop thinking about. But I was– actually there was a little demonstration this morning Uptown at the Indonesian Mission about the 140 in Jakarta who had been arrested in a spa. And so I was talking with one of the guys there who is my age, a gay man, and he was like, “Oh, I know you use they but it just, it’s hard for it to roll off my tongue and I said, “Jay,” that’s his name, and I said, “Jay, do you want to be part of the problem or part of the solution?”

O’Brien: Well said. [laughter]

Bauer: And he was like, “I know.” I said, “you’ve got to– there was a point that people used thy and thou and now we’re using they and you have to roll with it.” And he’s like, “I know” and so like roll.

O’Brien: Why do you think that shift is happening? Why do you think we seem to be making some progress?

Bauer: So you know before, I said that there were all these people who were trans who didn’t transition, and I think that with so many people who are trans transitioning, that they are trying to find what feels honest and authentic, does not split up on binary and why should you use pronouns that don’t feel right, whether they are she pronouns or he pronouns? And why should you not transition because neither of those pronouns fits you? And so I think that it’s great for people to say, you know, whether you want to talk about a spectrum or continuum or a three dimensional space or whatever, to find the place they are in now with the understanding that that might not be the same place they’re going to be in in one year or three years or five years. And I was really concerned to change my name to pick a name that one went both ways, that felt comfortable, and that felt like I could live with. And the nice things about names you can either create one or you can choose from the million out there and the problem with pronouns is that most of the world only recognizes two and it’s not like you have to either be Dick or Jane, when you choose a name you’ve got but with pronouns– You know we have a very inflexible language.

O’Brien: Yeah. Are there other issues that I didn’t ask you about that you would like to talk about?

Bauer: No, I mean I think, I wish I could’ve done what I’m doing now back in 1989. I wish there would’ve been a way to do it and there really wasn’t. I mean, I would have had to create it myself. I think if I had transitioned in ‘89, I would’ve done a binary transition and I’m not sure whether that would have been good or bad. I mean I think I would’ve lost my job and lost my partner and had to have reinvent myself and start over and I’m not really sure that that would’ve been a good thing to do. I’m not really sure that it was necessary to wait as long as I did and I’m still really unclear why I had that snapping moment when I did as opposed to ten years before or fifteen years before.

O’Brien: You said you retired from MTA? When was that?

Bauer: Yeah. Like two years ago, but I’m still consulting for them.

O’Brien: And you’ve been able to, you changed your pronouns on the job, you said? Or your name?

Bauer: I changed my name on the job, but people sort of got, I mean some people asked me directly and I told them directly but it was like once I did that flip the name had to go and the chest had to go

O’Brien: Yeah.

Bauer: And that was really clear to me. And people were, by and large people have been very cool with the name. Even the people who have known me for thirty years and are over 50, and over 50 your brain just does not work exactly the same and it’s slow to accept changes but the one thing they did do on my job was every time someone slipped up, everyone else in the office would say “It’s Jaime.” Because they were so relieved it wasn’t them, who made the mistake. So I actually never had to correct anybody because the people around me corrected constantly.”]

NEW YORK CITY TRANS ORAL HISTORY PROJECT, Jamie Bauer