#it would be so interesting if Alpha had like- a certain assertiveness from the get go

[scribblehooves]

Everybody gangster until we start using our real names.

[rason-rodd]

Do You Know Your Alphabet?

NSFW Edition feat Jason Todd

(I tried not to give a sexual orientation to Jason in this NSFW Alphabet and make his partner as gender neutral as possible to please all sorts of readers. Apologies if some part doesn’t include all genders. I honestly did my best and I will happily modify them if you tell me how.)

A – Anal:         When he is dating someone with a vagina, Jason rarely asks for anal sex. He prefers pussy to ass but if his partner wants him to use the back door he will happily do so.             However, his partner has to keep in mind that Jason always needs to be very testosterone-y and in full-dominant mode to fuck them in the ass.           In a relationship with someone with a penis, Jason will usually be the one who fucks in the ass rather than the one who is fucked in the ass though he can accept to swap roles from time to time.

B – BDSM:     That will be a non-negotiable “NO”. Even though he is fully aware that BDSM doesn’t only rhyme with pain but also with consent and pleasure, Jason is not a fan of it as hinted and stated many times in Red Hood and The Outlaws.             We can suppose that it is because BDSM can let some poorly buried trauma surface by reminding Jason of bad memories that includes ropes and a crowbar.    

C- Condom:   Only when needed. Like most men, Jason doesn’t like the lack of sensation that wearing a condom involves but he is smart and responsible enough to know there are moments when you need to wear one.       At a beginning of a relationship, he will always choose to wear one until he is sure that there are no risks to transmit any sort of STD. But once he knows everything is safe he will gladly ask his partner to either stop using protection and/or take contraception like a pill if said partner can get pregnant. Being a father is not in his plans and it actually scares him.            

D- Dominance:           Jason is a caring and highly protective boyfriend with fear of abandonment issues and those traits ultimately makes him a very possessive lover.         And it shows in bed. His possessiveness coupled with his passion and devotion to his SO makes him the type of man that permanently tries to assert his dominance. But this so-called dominance is not a way to show who’s the man in this relationship or who’s wearing the pants. It is just a clumsy way to show that he is a fully committed and devoted lover who is always struggling to please his partner out of fear of not being good enough and eventually abandoned. (Who said men were not complicated sometimes?)       Moreover, Jason fucks according to his mood and so his dominance always varies. Sometimes dominance can simply mean him on top and sometimes it can be synonymous of hard deep pounding from behind. Jason can indeed be a rough lover but he will never be the type to lay a hand on his SO. So you can forget any sort of slap or strangulation. He is a fighter in the streets but a lover under the sheets.       But submission is very rarely his thing. Sure he will adore making love with a partner as passionate as he is and will forever be turned on by someone who can match his strength and therefore who will not mind standing up to him. But if you think you can tame him forever you’re so wrong.         Jason will occasionally let you lead the way in the bedroom and he will be happy to let you do so as he will see your sudden dominance the same manner he sees his (meaning a symbol of love and devotion). But any relationship in which the place of alpha male is permanently refused to him will leave him unsatisfied and frustrated.

E- Ejaculation:             One thing is sure; Jason can’t cum in a condom. When wearing one, he will always make sure to remove it to spurt his semen on his partner. Most of the time it is on their ass, chest or pussy. He will generally never cum on someone’s face though but will see no problem in cumming in someone’s mouth for as long as they swallow that load.           But what he loves the most is to cum inside his partner (which is also another reason why he is not a fan of condoms). He finds a certain pleasure in doing so, finding the act rather intimate and weirdly romantic. He would never cum inside someone he doesn’t love or barely know.

F- Foreplay:     Jason never forgets foreplay even if his body begs him to just fuck his partner and get it over with. To him, foreplay is necessary when you do the deed. Without that Jason will feel like something is missing and view the sexual act as botched.         But to Jason Todd foreplay doesn’t only revolve around handjobs, fingering, oral sex or any other physical display. Of course he will happily do all of that but Jason is an intellectual and so he will definitely consider words as a form of foreplay. And sometimes they even arouse him more than the rest. Few naughty text messages telling him how much you miss him and his cock inside of you and the man will run back to you as fast as The Flash, his penis as hard as a stone pillar. And when that happens, you might get yourself prepared, as he won’t take much time to kiss or cuddle.

G- Gear and tool:       Mother Nature blessed Jason Todd and gave him one hell of a cock that matches his broad physique! It is veiny and circumcised, long, way longer than average actually, and its girth is going to stretch and fill any hole perfectly.           But this beautiful gear is not always a blessing. Indeed, you cannot take Jason’s whole cock in your mouth without gagging or chocking (though some people don’t mind that) and if you’re not lubed enough penetration can definitely hurt. So playing with that amazing tool demands patience and time.     His testicles are even and rather large when you think about it but they suit the P.  

H- Hairs:         Jason is a hard-worker but he is extremely lazy when it comes to taking care of himself. Plus, that laziness is also coupled with the fact that he doesn’t have much time to really mind his appearance. When he is monopolized by his vigilante work, he can spend days without shaving (and sometimes showering) and not really realise that he is in an urgent need of a razor. A chance that he is not a man that tends to be very hairy!           But to be honest, Jason doesn’t mind hairs in general and there are actually places he refuses to shave like his legs, his arms and the sexy line of dark hairs he has under his bellybutton.     But when he actually takes time to clean and shave, he always makes sure that his armpits are not bushy, that there are no hairs on his chest and his face and that his pubic hairs are nicely trimmed (He hates shaving them.)     When it comes to his partner, Jason can tolerate some hairs but he prefers when they are either fully-shaven or well-trimmed. He doesn’t like eating hairs when eating his SO out.

I- Intimacy:     Jason is very ambiguous and difficult to understand when it comes to intimacy.   As a possessive lover, he will always refuse to share his partner with another ‘alpha male’. He needs to be the centre of attention and the only person craved and praised in the bedroom. So when dating Jason you can forget any sort of threesome or orgy.           But if his partner is interested in welcoming a person that might not overshadow Jason and let him keep his dominant place between the sheets (for example a woman) then he may accept. Single, he will happily mingle with a couple but he will somewhat see this as a competition or an opportunity to show who’s the best.           But there’s definitely something that he will prefer to threesomes and that’s being watched or heard while having sex.           No, he won’t drag you to some swinger’s club and allow dozens of people watch you two having sex (he is a romantic) but you need to keep in mind that Jason is a man that doesn’t limit his sexual intercourses to his bedroom.             He actually loves fucking outside and/or in public places as the risks of getting caught or being heard have the tendency to get him highly turned on and have his juices flow. But he is not stupid enough to risk everything for a quick romp in front of others.             Weirdly, he prefers getting caught/ being heard by people he knows - and in that case he will not stop fucking his partner and show what an amazing lay he is – than by someone he doesn’t know. It boosts his ego and he can’t help it.       The only time getting caught traumatized him was when Alfred accidentally spotted him having sex in the manor. He didn’t dare catch his eye for days.    

J- Jerking off:   Jason can sometimes jerk off when he feels like he needs to release some stress and tension. But this solitary act requires a moment of intimacy he doesn’t often get because of his vigilantism that takes up all of his nights and energy. After a long night of patrol, given the choice, he will mostly choose sleeping over masturbation. But when he does jerk off, he always makes sure that no one is going to bother him (though he has fantasise about his crush watching him quite a few times) and he tends to think about situations rather than persons. The only times he will think about someone while masturbating will be when he has a crush on someone. Then he will imagine fucking this person and probably whisper their name.

K – Kink:         Jason can be kinky but he is not the kinkiest of the bat-family. There are things he will stubbornly never try or even consider (BDSM for example) but things he will gladly do on occasion (see Intimacy + Roleplay). As said before he won’t mix violence and love.   But the kinky side of Jason is just another way to spice up his relationship and show he is not a boring partner. Moreover, he is a boyfriend that takes consent and respect very seriously. He will never do anything that might hurt his SO in any way or anything they might not be confortable with.   That’s why he believes he and his partner have to talk about any sort of kinks before trying to experiment them. But he will prefer doing it through text messages than face to face. He is weirdly shy when talking about sex.

L - Love:           Jason has had a few one night stands but he will admit that sex is better when you’re in love. Plus, “sex gets better with time” would define Jason’s skills as a lover as he is the type of man that needs (and loves) taking his time to discover his partner’s body and desires. He is an enthusiastic learner that hasn’t yet discovered all the things he can know about sex. And that’s because he hasn’t had so many partners over the years.     Though don’t think that means your first time together is going to be bad. It won’t. On the contrary, it will be great but not as great as it can become.       Therefore we can jump to the conclusion that the persons that will only have Jason for one night will definitely miss something truly amazing.

M - Massage:     Jason has many qualities but giving massage is not a talent he can brag about. He is honestly not that bad at it but since he believes he sucks, he will not initiate in any sort of massage session. However, he loves getting one since he loves being touched and caressed especially on his chest and back. Actually, Jason believes that caresses and cuddles cannot be dissociated from the deed and views them as necessary before, during and after the act.         Also, he is the kind of men that will display his affection anytime he can though preferably in private. The rare PDA will occur if he feels jealous, threatened or worse, neglected (Don’t ever do that or the entire city will hear his wrath!).

N – Nudity:     When he is in a relationship Jason is not ashamed of his body but that doesn’t make him a body-confident man in general. Don’t expect seeing him walking around fully naked!     Indeed, Jason is modest and never sees his body as sexy. I mean, he knows he is muscular and well-built and all but as it is in his nature to focus on the negative, he will always be a bit hung up about the scars on his body and he will never let a one-night partner touch them or ask any sort of question about them. Only his SO will be allowed to do so and that shows how much trust and love Jason places in his relationships.

O – Oral sex:               To Jason, there’s nothing sexier than his partner sucking out his cock on their knees. It gives him satisfaction and boosts his ego like nothing else because he views this act as a symbol of submission and worship, two things he deeply cares about when having sex.           Fortunately he loves to reciprocate and he will not hesitate dropping on his knees to do the same. But don’t view it as him submitting to you. If that gorgeous man goes down, he goes down to make you scream his name, not to be your pet.           Also, it may be seen as an asshole move but if you refuse to suck his cock, do not expect him to give you oral sex. As terrible as it sounds and even though he puts his partner’s pleasure before his own, the man gives if only you give in return.

P – Position.   Jason is a romantic that craves touching and being touched and so he will always favours positions that allows him to feel his SO’s body against his or to roam their bodies with his strong hands or his lips. That’s why he will not appreciate being tied up and submitted.         Jason loves positions that allow him to go deep in his partner and to see himself do so. Plus, he likes sex to be a confortable experience for both his partner and himself. Therefore do not expect acrobatic positions that will leave you tired and aching for days. He doesn’t need that to make you feel that way. His top positions are: missionary, doggy, (reverse or not) cowgirl and spooning as they will all permit his hands and/or lips to wander your body.

Q – Quickie:   Jason is not really a fan of quickies as he want sex with him to be a memorable experience as well as a memento of his skills as a lover. Therefore, he strongly believes a 5 or 10 minutes sexual experience cannot show his partner what a good lay he is. And so, he will favour long nights of sweaty sex plus some good morning sex if the experience was highly pleasant.

R – Role Play: Jason is a good actor. He loves wearing disguise and impersonating different persons as we saw it quite regularly throughout RHATO. So if you want to role play, you bet he will be up for it and it will be a fun time. His favourite scenarios: the ones where he is in charge of course since they are the ones that allow him to display the little confidence he has without any sort of shyness or fear.     Do you like men with a moustache? Cause Malone Jr. is on his way.

S – Stamina:   Jason is kind, caring and generous out and under the sheets. He will always make sure to respect and please his partner, placing their pleasure before his own. But that doesn’t make him any less hungry than he is.           He is rather insatiable when having sex and that’s probably because he doesn’t have sex often even when in a relationship (damn patrols!). Therefore, that man can sometimes get carried away, be rather quick on the mount and become a bit of a jackhammer if his partner does not refrain him. And he won’t stop until he … you know.       Fortunately, his romantic side as well as his generosity will always remind him not to leave his partner unsatisfied at the end of the deed which miraculously doesn’t happen as quickly as one would expect given his frenetic pace.       Because he is athletic, Jason has a very good stamina. Plus, he is the kind of lover that can recuperate rather quickly and so he can go for a round two and even a round three if his partner is up for it.            

T – Talking:     Jason doesn’t consider himself a dirty-talker. Sure he will let out some naughty sentences while having sex but they will never be disrespectful. He won’t call his partner a whore or any other insulting words. On the contrary he will give compliments and make praises rain and he will happily accept the same from his partner in return.       He will also ask a lot of questions to reassure himself like “Do you like that?” or “Do you like my cock inside of you?” and he will also demand to be complimented (“Tell me how much you like it”) especially if his partner is silent (which is something he hates by the way).     He is not a very noisy lover. He never screams or moans loudly. He grunts and growls but those noises usually are very guttural as if he is fighting to keep them to himself. Don’t do the same though. Scream, talk and let the whole neighborhood he’s fucking you good!

U – Underwear:         Trunks or boxers but never briefs. Something that can hold his prominent package while he is running after criminals in Gotham City but that isn’t too tight around his thunder thighs. His underwear is generally unicolor and has no patterns. Dick bought him a pair of bat-briefs for fun once but he never wore them. Actually he probably threw them away. He likes his female partners to wear sexy fancy lingerie but he doesn’t see it as a necessary tool to be aroused. Simple underwear doesn’t turn him off but if there are some unicorns or rainbows on them … well … he might feel very uncomfortable and perplexed.          

V – Virginity:               He was around 16 or 17, living among the All-Caste and it was with Essence, Ducra’s daughter. Essence was Jason’s almost every first-times. Though she is not the first person he fell in love with, she was the first girl he kissed, the first girl he touched and the first girl he had sex with. Before that he had never really made out with anyone, as young Jason was the kind of boy more interested in books than in people. But Essence wasn’t just anyone. She was mysterious, fascinating and hard to get and those two traits are still something that Jason digs in a partner. If you ask Jason about his first time, he will tell you that even if he and Essence are not on best terms today, he doesn’t regret one bit of what happened with her. He truly loved her and she was here for him when no one else was.

W – Worship If you don’t know how to be complimentary then you might not be the right person for Jason. This man craves compliments and affection as much as one craves food and water.           Jason cannot thrive in a relationship with a selfish partner who doesn’t flatter him as he always feels the need to be worshipped. It’s not arrogance. It’s because he is permanently scared of not being good enough. See him as an unconfident little boy who needs recognition to be happy in a way.       But once you start demonstrating your admiration and affection for him, get ready to be showered with loving compliments. Worship goes in both ways in Jason’s mind. The more complimentary and loving you will be the more he will. And that works in the bedroom as well. Worship the man! Show him (and tell him!) how much you love him and how much you love what he is doing and you will be the most sexually satisfied person in the world. To make it short, worship is Jason’s fuel.   To finish, If he could worship one part of his lover’s body it would be their eyes. (Told you he was a romantic!). He loves to keep eye contact with his partner while having sex and see them sparkle with lust, pleasure and happiness.           

X- Xenophilia:             If you look at Jason’s list of love interests, you can spot some recurring characteristics. Physically, most of them have light hair. They are often blonds or red-heads and they often have got green or blue eyes. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be interested in brunettes (Talia, Donna) and reject anyone with dark eyes (Essence’s eyes were completely black!). Because what matters the most to him is chemistry. Jason wants someone he can trust, someone he can talk to and that will understand him but that also will call him on his bullshit and stand up to him when needed. In a word, be strong and be there for him.

Y – Yearn:       Unlike someone else in the bat-family (cough Dick cough), Jason will not drop his pants in a heartbeat and he doesn’t really fancy eager persons as well (Those persons are only good for one night). He loves the chase and he loves when the people he is interested in are playing hard to get. That will arouse him a lot and make him crave them even more.           When he wants to have sex, Jason will drop occasional hints to show his (potential) partner that he wants them. Usually, they will be caresses, kisses and/or languorous looks. He will never clearly say out loud that he wants to have sex. But he doesn’t mind when his partner drags him to the bedroom and initiate the deed. He finds that terribly sexy even, and super complimentary.

Z – Zzzzz:         Jason likes to sleep after sex with his naked partner huddled against him. Rest your head over his chest and hold him tight and he will be the happiest man in the world as, to him, it will mean ‘Stay. I feel safe with you’. But don’t expect to sleep all night especially if your relationship is brand new. You wanted Todd in your bed? You have him and he will not hesitate waking you up slowly if he wants to get in between your legs one more time. Hope you don’t mind.     Plus, Jason is not the “hump and go” type of man and he will always be there in the morning with his body probably pressed against yours. Though, if you’re a night stand there are risks he might never call you again.

[princeescaluswords]

All this is just further proof that fandom is DEEP in their own, self indulgent crafted narrative/au that they assert as "canon". They actually HATE the show for subverting common tropes. No, the broody and attractive white man from a distinguished lineage isn't the hero. Nor is the snarky white sidekick. Fanfiction would have you believe Derek was kindly offering lessons to Scott, who rudely snubbed him. Stans whine about the "lost potential" of exploring the Hale Family, but it WAS NEVER ABOUT THEM!!!!

Your question struck me because it's so completely true. They claim to be looking at canon, but they really aren't.

One story I read this morning had Stiles joining the Hale Pack and ending his friendship with Scott because Scott 'neglected' him after Gerard kidnapped him in Master Plan (2x12), because the fact that Scott 'left with Allison and Chris' shows that Scott didn't care about Stiles at all.

Except that we don't see Scott leave with Allison and Chris. The next scene we see is Allison breaking up with Scott and we know it's the same night. But there's no indication that Scott didn't talk to Stiles after Jackson's resurrection. And it certainly seems that Stiles and Scott are in a pretty good situation with each other at the end of the season. Why would their minds go to "Scott didn't care that Stiles was kidnapped and hurt!?!?!"

Especially when their minds don't go there after Raving (2x08). It took you a moment to figure out what I was talking about, didn't you?

When Victoria is using poison gas to kill Scott, Derek, who is standing next to Stiles and his mountain ash line, has to shout at Stiles to break the line because he's sensed Scott is in trouble. And Stiles huffs and breaks the line. But we don't see Stiles ask Scott if he's okay. We don't see Stiles help find Scott. We don't see Stiles at the Animal Clinic while Deaton is taking care of Scott. Derek's there and waiting, but Stiles isn't.

Why don't their minds go to "Stiles is selfishly focused on his own needs and is neglecting Scott!?!?" Because it would be a ludicrous conclusion to draw; Stiles has demonstrated his care and feelings for Scott in the past just as Scott has demonstrated his care and feelings for Stiles in the past.

Now, this is a double standard, one of many, many, many double standards in a fandom that seems to relish them. And one could make the argument that it's a deliberate and conscious choice to ignore one scene in order to support their desired conclusions in another, but after reading enough well-meaning author's notes which talk about how they think that "Scott was a better friend than canon portrays," I think it might be something more troubling:

The fandom has been indoctrinated so deeply by the culture to see non-white characters as inherently not as good or as interesting as white characters that they can't really judge fairly.

I know that there are a lot of minority readers out there looking at each other and going 'duh, stupid white man is just figuring this out now!?!?!', so let me elaborate. I've always assigned a certain level of malicious self-interest to this before, that they chose to ignore scenes that run counter to their desired end -- they wanted the show to be about the Hales and Stiles, but, as you put it, it wasn't, so they were going to get back at the production.

But I'm beginning to suspect that white supremacy is so fully ingrained in the culture that it's become like an optical illusion. They literally cannot see the scenes that establish the idea that this is Scott's story and he's the lead protagonist.

As an immediate aside, no one should possibly interpret this as me arguing that white viewers have no obligation to overcome this narrative illusion or that minority viewers must teach them otherwise if they want to be able to participate fully in fandom. Individuals are responsible for their own behavior, regardless of cultural influences!

But it explains how often well-meaning people can come up with interpretations so essentially disproved by the narrative, again and again. People can say that they like Scott but believe that Scott somehow had less virtue, less talent or less claim to the focus within the story.

It's why they can argue that Scott had 'shit control' because he didn't follow Derek, when Scott literally surprised Derek with his control in Heart Monitor (1x06).

It's why they can argue that Scott was a poor student or can't keep a secret or can't bake or can't do any number of things it is assumed that white characters can do without question, how he is a lovable idiot without any positive qualities that weren't given to him by the Hales or Stiles.

It's why they can scold Scott for not being able to tell that Theo was a chimera infiltrator but forget that Derek couldn't tell that Deaton wasn't an alpha and couldn't tell that Jennifer was the Darach.

It's why they hate Deaton for insulting Derek once and not 'helping enough' but think Peter was the Sassiest Happy Fun Uncle who cared for his family so much.

It's why Kira is a placeholder and annoying, but Cora somehow wasn't.

It's why Monroe being slashed up by the Beast, forced to cover herself with her friend's body, and then having to wait there for the sheriff to find her is a 'stupid reason' to start hunting supernaturals, but Scott telling Stiles to go talk to his father about the person he killed and then decided to hide it is grounds for the end of the friendship if not outright revenge murder.

It's why Stiles could never ever trust Morrell because she worked with the Alpha Pack and promised to euthanize him to protect others, but he would love, love, love, love, and have Derek Hale's babies when Derek worked with Peter and spent an entire season trying to murder Lydia.

It's why they so strongly believed that the show should have ended with Alpha Derek and the Hale Family reclaiming their family's legacy, with all the little betas following them around.

It's why the subversive nature of having the hero be the earnest Latino and not the broody white antihero flies over their heads. It's why they conjure up elaborate and self-contradictory fantasies of unreliable narrators.

They just can't believe that this is Scott's story.

I'm finding it harder to believe that every one of these people is a malicious asshole who chooses to ignore canon so they can get their white power fantasy fix. It's exactly how it's been described.

[ulquiorrapleasecallmetrash]

Belong In The Pack ( Alpha! Coyote Starrk x Omega! Reader)

 I have never written an alpha x omega before so I hope I didn't do  too bad. Go easy on me okay? 😅 I still hope you enjoy it! 🙌 

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Starrk never exactly found someone who he completely connected with. It wasn't like he had a problem finding someone to be with him for life, it was quite the opposite. Every female who hasn't found a mate  in his pack practically begged and worshiped him at his feet. There was physical attraction that liked in certain females but it never went any deeper than just that. It was  frustrating but more importantly, it was lonely.  It was like this every breeding year, females begged for him to mate with him and he would reject them. He almost felt bad, but he knew mating was an important bond between to wolves. As mating season approached, everything became more intense in the pack. Every female began to go into heat and it was hard for the males in the pack to control themselves. It was rather annoying seeing all the single females begging him to be with him. They also knew that he wasn't the type to choose just anyone but they still pathetically begged him. He was pickier than most male wolves in the pack, but that still didn't mean he doesn't have urges. Especially when it came s/o, she was different but  in a good way, the way she was strong-willed but also was aware of her place as an omega which  intrigued him the most. He had decided to go visit her, for the most part s/o usually stayed in the background away from other pack members but during this time she would be completely gone, away from everyone else.  He then went off into the woods, finding her on the edge of a cliff, whimpering and howling in agony. She was in pain and she needed someone to mate with desperately.  Unfortunately it was unlikely due to the fact she was an omega and the male wolves in the pack had no interest in her. The dark brown wolf stood several feet away from the cliff, he could already smell her arousal in the air. Somehow something clicked in Starrk, he was slowly getting intoxicated by her cries and her scent.  He climbed the cliff that was occupied by the omega, getting another whiff of her, he loved her smell. Next, he changed into his human form, his beautiful eyes gazed at the h/c wolf who Then turned into her alter form a few moments later.  She crawled towards him, tears streamed down her face as she continued to cry as his feet. "Please Starrk...h-help me!" Her begging, crying and smell of arousal was different than any  other female's in the pack. He enjoyed how desperate she was for him,it was almost too unbearable for the both of them. Without a thought, s/o was slammed onto her tummy, ass in the air. Starrk had no idea why he did it, except in the back of his mind he knew.  "Please Starrk, take me!" Starrk length was throbbing, hot and ready to be sheathed by her dripping core. The apha bent down, sniffing her aroused  core to further tease her, rubbing his nose and face into her.  " S-starrk! " She whimpered, she was so sensitive  which caused Starrk to growl at her with dominance, reminding her if her place. He began to  lick up her fluids as it dripped from her lips.  She was suffering but it made him even more turned on, soon enough he was more than ready to mate with her. He took both of his hands, gripping them onto her waist, then with one hard thrust, he entered her. It was painful but it felt like heaven for s/o, she had never felt anything like this before. He continued to ruthlessly thrust into her, growling as loud as he could to assert his dominance to the omega. He needed more of her. He pushed her all the way to ground, face squished up against the hard rock of the cliff as he fucked her into oblivion. There was various of sounds coming from the both of them, the skin on skin contact, the growling and moaning from both parties. Starrk leaned forward, his bare chest leaned against her back as he nipped at her neck as he took advantage of her, she loved every second of it and so did he. They were both too intoxicated to do anything else,  focusing on getting off. After minutes of ruthless and powerful thrusts from Starrk, he was ready to come, with one last feral growl he took s/o head, gripping her hair and pulling it as he came. The force of his pull and his warm spunk caused her to climax not even second later, her pleasurable moans echoed throughout the woods. After he finished inside of her, he let  go of her head,getting off of her soon after. He began to pant, watching the beautiful girl pant and wiping the sweat right off her forehead. "T-thank you.." She stated shyly, her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Starrk nodded, standing up afterwards, offering a hand to her. She was confused as to what he was doing, "What?"  "You're part of the pack, we should meet up with them." You weren't too sure about that. " I don't know... I'm an omega... It's best for me to stay back here. "  Starrk shook his head, "No matter what rank you are, you're still part of my pack. Just stay by me and no one will hurt you, I promise." He seemed so sincere, and you were so happy that he was. You took his hand, standing up right in front of him. It was nice feeling like you belong in his pack.

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[forthemorefortunate]

Live Like Animals

Nessian Modern AU

Merry Chris-  er, happy New Year to my secret snowflake!  @ncssian 💕😅

I hope you like the fic! I’ll be honest, when I filled out the application for the secret snowflake, I said I could make a fic believing that it was very unlikely somebody would ask for one 🥴🤔 But lemme say, I LOVED writing this, which is definitely something I didn’t expect. More than that, I’ve never been much of a Nesta or Nessian fan, but actually thinking through their characters and interactions for this fic gave me a whole new perspective on and appreciation for them (even if I’m not the best at writing their characters, aha), so thank you!

A few quick things about the fic:

(Ik I already told you this, but for anybody else reading this aha) This is my first fic! So please take it easy on me 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Okay so this part is kind of weird, but there’s kind of a corresponding playlist 😅 Each part is named after a song. You can play the songs while reading or not, I know for me personally (*cough* my ADHD ass) it’s hard to listen to music and read at the same time. The title is also the name of a song! Except that one is more random, haha (I couldn’t think of a title, so I shuffled my entire library and chose the first song as the title, and it kinda worked so I went with it)

One more quick thing – thanks to @moussescientist @ko0mbayamylord @blxckbeak @chanberry @mikitheswiftie @potatoburp @dead-on-the-inside666 @queenoffortunes and two anons for answering a question, and a HUGE thanks to Skye, @oneoutofamillionbooklovers for all your help and for roleplaying the parts I got stuck on with me ❤️

Part 1: Distant Early Warning (Rush)

Nesta pulled the dress over her head, letting it slide into place over her body. Screw this, she thought for the millionth time, yet she continued to get herself ready, turning to glance at her reflection when she was finished. She raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly at the woman looking back through the mirror. The woman Nesta spied had on a satin slip dress, darkest blue. She wore no jewelry save for the small silver studs in her ears, and her hair was pulled into a neat-yet-simple updo.

Why Nesta even agreed to go to this party she didn’t know. There was nothing different about it, just another college booze fest. The music would be too loud, the air too heavy, the guys too grabby, and the company too... clubby. Feyre insisted that she would fit right into her friend group – her clique – but Nesta wasn’t sure she wanted that. She padded over to the door of her apartment. No, Nesta was quite certain that “fitting in” with Feyre’s newfound friends was something she didn’t care for at all.

Nesta’s phone buzzed on her kitchen counter as she slipped on a pair of black heels, and she picked up to Feyre’s forcibly perky voice. “Hey! We just pulled up, you coming?”

“No.” Response blunt, tone dry. The line was silent for a long moment, and Nesta held in a sigh. “Did I give you the impression that I was interested in coming?”

“Nesta, I’m not in the mood for fucking around,” Feyre said, perkiness mysteriously faded now. “It’s just one party! I promise you’ll have fun.” Bullshit.

“Since when have I ever-”

“And everyone else really wants you to come, too!” Feyre cut her off, “Rhys is excited to meet you!”

Rhys. Feyre’s boyfriend. Nesta groaned inwardly, truly dreading any interaction with the rugby star. Feyre had immediately caught the eye of the local heartthrob, and the two began a serious relationship shortly after meeting. And with one came the others. In high school they would have been labeled “popular.” They were quite possibly the closest group of friends at the college, almost all of them having known each other since childhood. And Feyre had slipped right in among them. Nesta had warned Feyre against making the tight pack of fourth-years her main group of friends, and she had her own opinions about a freshman dating a senior, but Feyre didn’t make a habit of following Nesta’s advice. Rather, she seemed to think she could give Nesta – a third-year – much more valuable guidance. Domineering bitch.

“I don’t give a shit about your friends, Feyre. I’m only coming because of our deal,” Nesta said. Feyre had been pestering her all semester, spewing crap about how Nesta and Feyre should spend more time together. Nesta should get out more. Nesta should tag along with Feyre’s friend group. Nesta should have some fun. 

More bullshit. 

As second semester began, Feyre had proposed a deal: Nesta would go to one party with Feyre and her buddies, and if she honestly didn’t enjoy it, Feyre would stop asking her to join them. 

“I’m on my way. Let’s just get it over with,” Nesta grumbled, and with that, she hung up the phone and opened the apartment door.

Part 2: Can You Afford to Be An Individual? (Nothing but Thieves

Nesta looked around the group of fourth-years–plus Feyre–arranged in front of her. Introductions were unnecessary; you couldn’t attend this school without knowing who they were. Her eyes fell first upon Rhys, his arm around Feyre’s waist. His chin lifted slightly as she made eye contact. Rhys: double major in history and foreign policy. President of the astrology club. Captain of the rugby team, possibly one of the best players the school had ever seen. He was the group leader, though nobody said it aloud. Nesta knew him well. Perhaps she only knew his type well, or her own perception of his type, but that didn’t keep her from holding his gaze a few moments longer than would be comfortable. Then she turned her scrutiny on his sidekicks, so she called them, Cassian and Azriel. The former wore jeans and a baggy black jacket over his rugby uniform in the school colors: black and red. The latter wore black pants with a dark blue button-down shirt untucked.

Cassian smirked as her eyes met his. “Glad you decided to make an appearance,” he drawled. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his smile widened in response. Cocky bastard. Azriel, double majoring in political science and criminology, simply nodded at her in greeting.

After the sidekicks came Rhys’s cousin Mor, an architecture major with a minor in design. She was entirely too peppy in a way that left Nesta exhausted, but Nesta wouldn’t give her satisfaction by scoffing at her cocked hip and half-grin, ostensibly projecting confidence. She held Mor’s stare, matching her asserted confidence with a cool security in her own assets. The half-smile twisted, just slightly, and Nesta moved on to the short girl farthest to the right: Amren.

Amren scared people. As in, people were genuinely freaked out by her. Aside from a few cultish tendencies, her occasional propensity for violence and/or verbal outbursts, and her sharp expression, though, Nesta couldn’t tell why. Amren majored in gemology and minored in linguistics, and was the only one in the group other than Feyre to have not known the others since they were little. In fact, she was studying here from abroad, though nobody actually knew where she was from. Unlike Mor, Amren presented a confidence that Nesta could believe in and respect. Nesta maintained her chilled posture, but let the bite in her expression retreat.

As for Feyre’s introducing Nesta, that was unnecessary as well. They all knew her; most upperclassmen did. Or rather they knew of her, by the name of heinous bitch. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“Okay,” Feyre started, her voice expectant as she tilted her chin to look at Rhys’s face, “Let’s head in?” Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta had met up with the rest of the group in the parking lot before they entered the party. Fashionably late, Feyre had told her on the drive in Rhys’s tesla. Rhys taught me that the key to maintaining his public image is in making grand entrances. God, Nesta wanted to laugh at Rhys’s influence over her.

As they entered the building holding the party Nesta immediately stiffened, and had to close her eyes for a moment against the harsh blue and purple lights cast by PAR cans. All senses at once were smacked by the presence of weed. The floor was vibrating, and speakers blasted near-deafening music so that all Nesta could really hear was thunder. Jesus Christ, I hate parties, she thought. A mass of sweaty bodies shifted and bounced through the too-heavy air ahead of her, some only silhouettes in the murky haze, through which Nesta saw red solo cups littering every possible surface. Suddenly she noticed Feyre standing next to her, fidgeting with her clutch and looking over expectantly. Nesta shot her a withering look that said, “This is not what we agreed to.” Feyre had the nerve to look guilty.

“Okay before you say anything,” Feyre began, “I know that look, and... I know this is a bit bigger than we talked about-”

“A bit?! This is a rager, Feyre. Do I look like I rage?”

“Okay no, but I promise Rhys and I have a plan.” Oh my God.

Nesta gave her another glare and plucked a cup off a nearby table. Sniffing it, she sighed and took a big swig. “Please, my dearest sister, do tell.”

“We’re going with a buddy system.”

Nesta coughed. “A buddy system – are you fucking kidding me?” She spied Rhys and his dickhead friends in the corner of her eye. “Wow, are arts and crafts before or after beer pong?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, calling a fresh wave of frustration to roll over Nesta. “Can you shut it with the attitude, Nesta? I already apologized for the crowd of people – it kind of got out of hand. Rhys told me before we left but I didn’t want to scare you out of coming.” She gave Nesta a pleading look.

“Tch, whatever. Who’s my buddy? I assume you’ll be with Rhys?”

Feyre beamed at her. “You’re paired up with Cassian!”

“Cassian.” Great. Alpha dickhead.

“Don’t be like that. He knows his way around these things and he’ll keep you from accidentally overdosing or blacking out.” 

“Who said that wasn’t my intention?” 

Feyre scrunched her face up. “Either way, you can’t deny that he’s bigger and taller than half the creepy guys here. He’ll keep unwanted attention away.” 

Nesta watched as Rhys, lead hulking rugby bro dickhead, caught sight of her sister and eyed her with what might have been lust or love – Nesta couldn’t decide. Cassian, approaching from Rhys’s side, cut Nesta a slow, purposeful look down and back up to her face. She felt an annoying tingle down her spine as the crowds parted for them. This was going to be a long night.

Part 3: Inhaler (Foals)

They had been at the party for less than ten minutes and Nesta already wanted to leave. Drink in hand, she aimlessly wandered around the outskirts of the crowd, hoping to find a place to sit farther from the lights that drowned out any rational thought that flashed through her brain. Cassian trailed a few steps behind.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

She twisted around to glare at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

Cassian puffed out a laugh and spread his arms wide, responding, “If you don’t recall, we’re kind of stuck together, darling.”

Right. Nesta rolled her eyes. “How could I forget?” Cassian left the question hanging, still following her, so she forged on. “I like to read. A concept that’s probably foreign to you.” She dodged a young couple parting from the fray to make out against the wall, and paused to reorient herself.

“You might be surprised.” Nesta groaned inwardly and arched a brow. “Oh I have no doubt.”

“None at all?”

“What. Are you on volume seven of Captain Underpants?”

“Volume eight, actually.”

Nesta stopped. She was pissed. Pissed at this party, pissed at Feyre for lying about how big it was, pissed that she was stuck with rugby bro sidekick, pissed that the purple lights suddenly seemed a lot brighter, the music a lot louder, her thoughts a lot fuzzier. “Look, Cassian. I only came here as a favor to my sister. We’re not friends.” He started to cut her off, but she continued, turning so that they fully faced each other, “You don’t have to stay, I can take care of myself.”

He leaned in close, the laughter in his tone suddenly gone. “Listen, princess. You’ve had two beers and you’re already tipsy. I get it, we’re not friends. But there are at least four guys looking at you like they want to take you against the nearest surface and I’m the only man within a thirty-foot radius that has any self-control. There’s no way I’m leaving.” He held her gaze firmly.

“So that’s it – I’m just supposed to trust you? My knight in shining armor, here to protect my virtue? That ship sailed a long time ago.” Fuck it. “I wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride though,” Nesta said, flashing a smirk at the end.

Cassian’s lips twisted into a half-grin, but she could see annoyance rising up in his eyes. “Nesta, you don’t wanna play with me.”

“Brute.” Nesta turned and started walking away again.

“Bitch.” He followed.

Nesta scoffed. “How original.”

“Not all of us are English Lit majors.” 

Somehow Nesta tripped on her own foot at that moment, staggering sideways into Cassian’s path. He lunged forward, arms going around her waist to hoist her upright. Her lip curled and she spit out, “And not all of us are rugby stars,” and shoved her way out of his arms.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassian asked, incredulous.

“Cassian, I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love your attention. But I’m not one of them.” She turned around to face him, walking backwards, and almost tripped again. “So go on and play with someone else. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” With that, Nesta thrust herself into the fray, pushing her way through the mass of shouting people, making the crowd a barrier between herself and Cassian.

Part 4: Emergency (Nothing but Thieves)

After five minutes of random college students bumping into her from every direction, her head pounding and thoughts muddled, Nesta realized she didn’t know which direction the exit was in. Fuck. She was disoriented and exasperated, her frustration now showing in her usually unshakable expression. She couldn’t even tell which direction the light was coming from. How many beers had she drunk? Two? Three? She wasn’t usually a drinker, and it hit her then that she hadn’t eaten for hours before the party started. Stupid, she thought. This was why she didn’t do parties.

She was so distracted trying to figure out where the light source was, trying to get her bearings at least, that she didn’t catch sight of a brooding figure wending its way toward her until the man had a hold of her wrist and was pulling her to the side of the room, wherever that was. 

“Hey! Get the fuck off me!” Nesta shouted over the crowd, but couldn’t get a response from the man until they found one of the cinder block walls.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice cruel as he tried to pull her closer. “We’re just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta ripped free of his grasp, but he backed her into a corner. He had a drink in one hand. Not good.

“Hey, hey, no need to get worked up,” he drawled, “I saw the way you were looking at me.” Looking at him? Nesta thought. This was the first she’d seen of him.

Nesta tried to step to the side, but the man followed her, his senses keener than hers in her condition. He reached out for her arm again, and Nesta shouted this time. “Don’t touch me!”

He put his hand up as if in innocence. “Come now, I’ll make it fun for you. Just have a drink.” He brought the cup toward her face, his hand now reaching behind her head, which she snatched away.

“I swear to God, can’t you bastards understand that no means no?”

“You-”

“Get the fuck away from me, creep!” She aimed a kick at his groin, but he easily dodged it.

His mouth hardened into a line, and he growled, “Just take the damn drink, bitch!”

The man shoved her into the corner, her head hitting the wall. He brought his hand up to hold her back by her shoulders as he brought the cup up toward her lips and-

“Let me go or I promise you’ll regret it.” Last resort. 

He shot her a crooked grin and began to reply, but whatever response he had in mind was cut short.

A voice from behind him said, “And she never goes back on a promise, asshole.” The man was wrenched off her body by two strong hands, and pulled over to the side to give her an out, which she quickly took advantage of.

And there, dragging the man away from her, was Cassian.

The creep tried to play it cool. “Hey, Cassian, bro, what’s up, man?” he said mock-casually, “I caught your last game! great playing, dude!” His demeanor shifted completely as he turned on his bro mode.

Cassian’s jaw was set. He tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder, his stare withering. “You need to leave. Right now.”

Yet the man kept going with a smirk, “It’s all good bro, we can share.” 

That was a step too far.

Cassian grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him close. “That’s the thing – I don’t share. I don’t play nice.” Cassian thrust his face forward so they were only a couple inches apart. “You said you caught my last game, right? So you know I don’t go down without a fight. Touch her again and you’ll regret it.” With that, he shoved the guy into a table, and turned to Nesta. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Part 5: Before We Drift Away (Nothing but Thieves)

Dizzy and shaken, Nesta let Cassian guide her through the crowd to the exit. Once they were outside in the cool night air, he pulled her aside, gaze dark.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to drink whatever was in that cup?”

“No.”

His eyes closed and relief flooded across his face. “Good. God, some people are fucked up. I don’t know what I would have done if he had drugged you, or taken you away, or...” He trailed off, leaving anything further than that unsaid. 

They were silent for a minute. Nesta looked up at him, a bit of worry still etched across his features. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much?”

He looked over to her, something strange in his expression that Nesta couldn’t place. “I don’t know. You’re a human being, and your safety was left in my hands.” He paused and looked away. “If I’m being honest, when I saw that guy put his hands on you... I don’t know. Something flipped inside me.” At that moment he looked down to her bare shoulders, noticing that she was beginning to shiver. “You’re cold,” he said softly. “Here, take this.” He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, even when she protested.

Nesta frowned as she gave in and pulled his jacket tightly around her, annoyed at the way her body betrayed her. “I don’t need protection. I’ve lived a long time without people to care about me.” She started walking toward the parking lot, and he followed.

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Nesta. You’ve been pushing me away all night, but listen to me – don’t you understand? I’m not just talking to you because I’m bored. I don’t smile at you as a game, as if you’re some prize for me to win. Can’t you see by now that I’m doing literally everything I can just to stay by your side? Damn it, I asked Feyre to pair us together at the party.”

Nesta had stopped walking and was speechless for once.

Cassian stepped closer tentatively, as though she’d back away. He ran a finger over Nesta’s wrist and looked up to the sky. “Please, just don’t make me say anything else completely insane. I promise I’m not in the habit of sharing intense moments with perfect strangers.”

A rush of anger coursed through Nesta, and she shoved him back. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t talk to me like that. Despite what you must think, I’m not an idiot. I’m not naive. I am well aware that this is all a favor to my sister. Stay with my lame, antisocial sister. It might be fun, right?” She paused, any restraint she had used earlier having completely abandoned her.

“That’s not what I think at all, Nes-”

“Fuck you, Cassian.” She shoved him again, more aggressively this time.

Cassian caught her wrists and pulled her closer. “Try that again.”

Nesta glared. “Bite me,” she spit out.

“Maybe I will.”

And as though drawn to her by some gravitational force, Cassian’s mouth came crashing down onto hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, seeming to lift her off her feet. Nesta’s bare skin burned where Cassian touched her, and she pushed back against his touch to gain control. Everything, every thought was fading to nothing. Biting down on his lip drew out a low groan from Cassian, and Nesta broke free.

Cassian put his hands up as though to make a barrier between them, as though he wouldn’t be able to control himself without it. 

“So much for being the only man with self-control,” Nesta said. Cassian just shook his head, earning a light snort from Nesta. “I shut everyone out--even pretty jocks like you. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.”

Cassian smiled his easy smile, and he reached up to touch his lips with a thumb. “You think I’m pretty?”

Nesta scoffed. “The prettiest.”

He stood there for a moment, just smiling at her, before turning back toward the parking lot. “Okay, princess, allow me to introduce you to the pinnacle of after-party activities.”

Nesta raised a brow, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about pancakes.”

She looked skeptical. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. And after the night you had, you deserve an entire plate of them.” Cassian reached out to her with his big, warm hand, and Nesta hesitated.

“Cassian-” She started warily.

“Hey – I’m not asking you to marry me, it’s just pancakes.”

Nesta waited a moment more, then took his hand. “Fine. But I’m not sharing the chocolate sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dare ask you to. Besides, you already know how I feel about sharing.”

Nesta smiled a bit. “Hey Cassian?

“Yes Nesta?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

[homestuckexamination]

Selfish Vs Unselfish

Jesus. Yeah I have nothing to comment here, I’m going to read this later when I haven’t just woken up.

You know the drill. Put it under ‘Read More’. A matter of perspective it can be, but there can be an objective truth to sort that out. Let me e x p a n d on this matter using Homestuck and some philosophy. And for those who missed the last ask on Active/Passive divide, please do remember that these labels are on a continuum, not strictly boxed categories. “UNSELFISH” or UNSELFISH - The passive classes lean more to this. How? By being group-oriented. Like support classes in RPGs, their asset comes mainly from a drive to benefit others. Roxy is one of the best examples of this. While she was passive-aggressive in her pursuit of romance, she is ultimately willing to put her self aside and bettering herself if that meant making sure the group stays together. She does this by, to quote Dirk, never turning the tables to make a talk about her when she knows her friend needs something.

TG: i was gonna say why i finally quit drinkin TG: i mean if you want to know GG: Yes. GG: Actually, once you did stop, it made me finally realize it was a problem for you for a long time. GG: And I didn’t say anything at the time, but it made me wonder if I wasn’t doing the right thing before. GG: By failing to point out you might have a problem? Or just going along with it and participating in lively banter any time you clearly had too much to drink? GG: Was I just being a bad friend? TG: nah it wasnt your responsibility to fix my shit TG: and anyway i think i made it hard for anyone to come at me like it was a real problem TG: i was always joking around so much and havin a good time like kind of overzealously so TG: that i probably just made people feel like a shitty wet blanket for even mentioning it

She wants to be of use to her group. However, the downside to this is that, as passively Roxy can be, she often needs them as well.

TG: and now dirk knows that too and for some reason letting him down feels like the worst part?? TG: which is equally lame and weak cuz i should care for my own sake not for how it makes a dude see me but it still just really bothers me ???

TG: i didnt want her to meet a sloppy embarrassing mess of a daughter

TG: even if she did like to drink at some point it was kind of a childish idea that doing so myself would make me closer to her or help us bond or whatever TG: anyway i think i might of overestimated her drinkin habits

How would you know if a class is truly passive when a character just been a really selfish a-hole through the story? It’s how they mainly rely on others as well. Let’s use Aranea as the main example of a selfish passive Sylph of Light that tries to emulate a Thief. Aranea says that Sylph is a healer type of class that involves boosting others, even excessively. However, while she claims that she merely wants to help and shepard the Alpha timeline by taking control of it, Meenah says otherwise. What Aranea has been doing is a self-aggrandizing act to get into the spotlight and not sit on the sidelines anymore, much like her fellow Serket. Like Kanaya, she is meddlesome. She asserts that what she does is for the good of all, even if that means doing something others would object to. They don’t want that. But, she does it anyway.

At first, she complies when the recipient refuses, but when it eventually comes to her ultimate takeover plan, everyone else comes second. She may believe that she’s just granting their wishes, but her underlying motive is ultimately selfish- albeit by excessively “helping” others for her own cause. Aranea failed to learn what Mindfang did:

“8ut as I sit here deciding what to do with the damna8le little sphere, I understand my error. It was not in failing to chart a course through future events to turn my fortune’s tide, even so many sweeps from now. It was in 8elieving the future was mind to know, and fortune mine to control.”

Now let’s use Rufioh and compare him to Roxy. Both of them are Rogues. Both of them are group-oriented characters that act selfishly from time-to-time. The difference is that Rufioh is more selfish. He’s extremely affable to the point of being a doormat to please others all while trying to be polite about romantic advances despite being a flirt himself. He’s reluctant to voice his own reason that he wants to leave his matespritship with Horuss. Sounds familiar? He’s the Jake of the love triangle. Rufioh cheated on Damara and never takes responsibility from it, focusing on Damara being a crazed scorned girl.

Passive players that fail to balance supporting others and fulfilling their own desires often end up being thrown in a loop. Forcing your solution solution on others for 'their own good’ is selfish. Your concern on how others perceive you may be sprouted from your own insecurity. Whenever you make a donation to the less fortunate, how can you be certain it’s not without the purpose of staving off guilt, doing it because it simply aligns with your moral code, or because it feels good? 

AG: I decided not to, 8ecause I didn’t want to 8e the one to make you sad about it.

AG: Was that selfish of me? I dunno.

It’s a gem to see volunteers whose instincts are to help people to make life more bearable, mind you. But they’re also doing that because they want to see them better and it’s often their own desire to do so and fulfill that dream.

ENLIGHTENED VS UNENLIGHTENED SELFISHNESS

-I’ve rambled on this a bit. Here’s a recap:

*Unenlightened Selfishness is… pretty much the archetypal self-centeredness that makes people jerks. It’s whenever you do something for yourself with little to no regard to other people’s desires. It’s the greedy shark hoarding all the treasure. It’s when you try to justify your actions with a perspective of “everyone else is selfish, so I’m entitled to be an asshole to everyone too”.

*Enlightened Selfishness or Enlightened Self-Interest is the opposite. It’s when you respect that everyone has their own wants and needs by compromising and coinciding them with your own. It’s like a deal. It’s the Golden Rule. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s when you do things for other people for the good you’ll get from it, even when the payment is simple politeness and being generally nice. Society expects each individual to benefit the community in turn by working. We work with the expectation that others work for us. Unlike the first, this form of self-interest benefits both parties. Another term is Selfish Altruism.

We see an exercise of selfishness burning brightly through Vriska’s arc.

(VRISKA): I’m not a loser though! (VRISKA): I LIKE who I’ve 8ecome. (VRISKA): I actually feel happy and good a8out my life for the first time in… may8e forever?? (VRISKA): Like, ACTUALLY good a8out my life in a way that feels real, instead of forced. Don’t you realize that’s what it was like for us? VRISKA: You don’t have a life! VRISKA: You’re DEAD, remem8er? VRISKA: I’m the one with the life! VRISKA: And I fully intend to use it in a relevant and constructive way to help 8ring an end to all the horri8le shit that’s 8een going on for way too long. VRISKA: Remem8er when you used to care a8out that sort of thing? VRISKA: No, o8viously not. VRISKA: All you care a8out now is 8ullshit hipstery fashion trends, feeling “happy”, and… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing here? VRISKA: Frolicking with some horses in an ugly field or some shit. VRISKA: Just a8solutely disgraceful. VRISKA: How could I have 8ecome so selfish??

Vriska is accusing (Vriska) for being selfish despite being selfish herself. Remember her popular hero quote?

VRISKA: I only ever wanted to do the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don’t need a magic ring to do that. VRISKA: You don’t have to 8e alive to make yourself relevant. VRISKA: And you don’t have to 8e a good person to 8e a hero. VRISKA: You just have to know who you are and stay true to that. VRISKA: So I’m going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how.

VRISKA: 8y 8eing me.

And a few panels after that, she does this.

VRISKA: OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! VRISKA: OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! VRISKA: WE’RE G8ING TO LOOK AT WH8T’S IN THIS CH8ST RIGHT N8W!!!!!!!! VRISKA: DO YOU HE8R ME Y8U F8CK? VRISKA: I D8DN’T SCRAPE AND CLAW MY W8Y 8ACK TO RELEV8NCE F8R THIS SHIT! VRISKA: I’M DOING S8METHING F8CKING IMPORTANT! AND WHEN I DO SOMETH8NG FUCKING IMPORT8NT, EVERY88DY 8ETTER D8MN WELL PAY ATT8NTION TO ME!!!!!!!!

Sure, her resurrection got everyone’s attention, but also annoyance. A lot of their personal problems aren’t truly solved, just put on a temporary chokehold by someone with a stubborn, assertive personality. She’s taking charge so that her team won’t be in poor condition for the big fight, but also to, well, be in the spotlight. She doesn’t care how others think of her, she just wants to help… but also because it makes her important, even if that means overpowering her friends, including her moirail Terezi. Vriska’s the active counterpart to Roxy in both class and aspect. A positive part of this is that it’s easier for Vriska and other folks like her to be self-driven.

…

What am I getting at? It’s a matter of intention. Are they doing it to mainly benefit others? Or are they acting to benefit themselves? Even if it’s grey, there’s often a tint or shade that’s lighter or darker that makes someone lean somewhere. It doesn’t matter how they see themselves and how they perceive their own actions, it’s their motivation that defines the line. Accidents don’t count. It’s the will. Looking at one’s intention is a way to objectively sift through the blurriness of it their actions, even when said intention is subconscious. You can also simply take the Active/Passive divide on strictly class roles in terms of RPG abilities alone if you’re not keen on the personalities of the bunch.

[dreamingofscully]

6x16. “Alpha” - X-Files Rewatch

This episode is all about Scully being the Alpha, who marks her territory (Mulder). What casefile? Through this lens, I really enjoy this episode. You wouldn’t think there would be much to analyze here BUT BOY YOU'D BE WRONG. Also, there’s so many corny jokes, I love it.

Scully arriving from elsewhere in the building with her coat/briefcase seems to indicate she has an office elsewhere in the building. Perhaps she requested somewhere close to the labs? It’s super cute that she comes by to check on Mulder before she leaves. Despite how uncomfortable she was with his silliness in “Arcadia”, I think things are good between them now.

“Aren't you going home?” - Scully “I am home. I'm just feathering the nest.” - Mulder

This is cute, but also kinda sad. The work is his life, how can it be any different?

Mulder subtly trying to get Scully interested in the case. 

The desk lamp is POINTED AT THEIR PICTURE. Awww. ❤️

“What happened to the dog?” - Scully “Dog gone…. Dog gone… Doggone.” - Mulder, proud of his joke “Yeah, I got it.” - Scully

Sitting closely, and Mulder being even more of a dork than usual with his corny jokes. Scully loves it though. They’re so happy to have the X-Files back. Life is good for a little while.

THEIR CUTE SMILES AND FLIRTING ❤️

“Don’t mind him, he’ll go on forever.” - Scully

Mulder has definitely missed going on long monologues about weird shit in front of local law enforcement.

Of course Mulder’s heard of the animal. He has had even more time than usual lately to cram his brain with random strange things.

“You get a biscuit, Scully.” - Mulder, with more stupid jokes. But he’s gazing at her here, so we’ll forgive him. I’m not even mad about it anyways.

Their cute banter in front of the worker installing the fence at Karins. SO FLIRTY. (Also, being mistaken for a couple again!)

“You two looking for Karin about boarding?” - Stacy Muir “No, it's actually more of a behavior problem.” - Mulder “Yeah, he doesn't listen and he chews on the furniture.” - Scully, glancing at Mulder

Inside Karin’s house, Mulder’s random touch and Scully’s shiver in reaction. Reminiscent of his two-handed touch in “Arcadia” - is that done deliberately? Scully doesn’t seem uncomfortable, but shivers in reaction, as if she definitely enjoys it. Oof. Things are REALLY good between them.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 1:

“How is it that you know so much about her but you don't know what she looks like?” - Scully “I never actually met her.” - Mulder “But you assume that she's going to help us?” - Scully “No, actually, it's not an assumption. She is the one who told me about his case.” - Mulder “Oh, so you two are chummy?” - Scully “Well, I've read her books.” - Mulder “Ah. The Wolf Inside... Dogs Don't Lie... Better Than Human... Better Than Human?” - Scully “She's not a real people person.” - Mulder “Well, she seems to have made a connection to you.” - Scully, looking at the I Want To Believe poster on her wall (highlighting it with a desk lamp, sound familiar?)

Standing close by the bookshelf.

Mulder introducing himself as “Fox”, what? It probably has to do with her obsession with canines. They probably joked about his name, and it’s what she would refer to him as in their emails.

This would make Scully feel even more uncomfortable/jealous

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 2:

“Mulder... She's a friend of yours?” - Scully “We met on-line.” - Mulder “On-line…” - Scully “Two professionals exchanging information.” - Mulder

Standing close in the alley/crime scene.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 3:

Her expression when Karin shows up, and calling her “wolfwoman”. (Recognize this? She made a similar face in “Syzygy”.)

Karin’s “Classic dominant alpha territorial behaviour” when talking about the police officer being killed.

By contrast, Scully doesn’t need to be aggressive or violent to assert her dominance - just needs to exist. ❤️

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 4:

Mulder touching Karin’s hand on the computer mouse. Scully notices, shoots Mulder a sharp look. She immediately starts questioning Karin’s ideas. Her EXPRESSION. She thinks she’s figured Karin out, that she is attracted to Mulder, and she’s not going to let her get away with anything. It’s not only possessiveness but protectiveness. She only recently got Mulder away from the clutches of Diana, and she knows how vulnerable he is to women that seem vulnerable themselves.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 5:

In the car, Mulder knowing something’s wrong with Scully

Scully warning him: “She's enamored of you, Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too.” (I think this is also a veiled reference to Diana, that Mulder does NOT get, nor is he meant to.)

Mulder is gullible and oblivious when it comes to certain women, and Scully knows it!

Mulder gives her a curious look - thinks she’s jealous, perhaps?

Scully won’t tolerate anyone trying anything with Mulder, she’s fucking had it. After dealing with Diana so recently - no one else is going to try anything. She’s getting ahead of something before it develops. Mulder is empathetic with people who are different/loners (Oubliette/Mind’s Eye). He CAN be manipulated by a woman with a sad story.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 6:

Going to see Karin alone, confronting her about her intentions with Mulder. Look at that lean forward.

Scully’s “With Mulder, you found somebody you could communicate with.... someone who challenged you... But that wasn't enough. You needed to lure him out here.”

She knows what having a special connection to him feels like!

Karin’s “I lack your feminine wiles.” (Which is hilarious, because when it comes to Mulder, Scully doesn’t have ANY of that manipulativeness that she implies.)

“I'm watching you.” - Scully “You watch... But you don't see.” - Karin

Perhaps Karin did mean to lure Mulder out here to meet him, and she does lie about the creature. HOWEVER...

Once she sees Mulder and Scully together, she abandons her ideas of deepening her relationship with him. She sees what everyone else does - that M&S are incredibly close, that their body language and glances to each other suggest that the only person in the room that matters to each other is them. Karin’s suggestion here (to the case I’m sure) is also a reference to what Scully can’t see is right in front of her - that there’s no reason for her to be territorial because Mulder only has eyes for her.

I also believe Mulder would have mentioned Scully to Karin. She’s such an integral part of his life. Once Scully shows up, things “click” for her, she understands that she has no chance.

Mulder trusts Scully’s judgement, goes to see Karin for himself and asks about being misled. (This is a pretty big deal.)

Karin - she loves Mulder, in her way. He's a kindred spirit, like Scully says, the only other human she knows that she actually likes. Once she realizes that he belongs to another, that he has someone who is a good person (based on how her dogs react to her) and will look out for him, she realizes what she needs to do to stop the animal - risk and (potentially) sacrifice herself. After lying to Mulder about what she thinks the animal will do next, and he goes to Scully, she LOOKS AT THE “I WANT TO BELIEVE” POSTER. Did she choose to wrap it up and send it then? In essence, disconnecting herself from him, and giving him a gift as her last goodbye?

I love that Mulder calls Scully to the hospital so they can do the surveillance TOGETHER. ❤️ Mulder’s “You should take a load off. We might be here all night.”

Scully’s “So, what is he going to do? Walk in here, skitter across the linoleum and pee in the corners?” is so cute. And Mulder loves it when she jokes. Like I said earlier, they are in a good place again.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 7:

“Mulder, the only thing Karin Berquist is interested in is you.” - Scully, to which Mulder seems bashful about it. He’s so oblivious about women being interested in him. It’s adorable.

When Scully takes his magazine she sits a bit further from him than normal. She’s uncomfortable with her jealousy, tries to distance herself from it’s source.

Of course Scully falls asleep. ❤️ I love how she can sleep anywhere. She’s SNORING (quietly) - IT’S SO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN--. 😭 He’s gazing at her while she sleeps, then wakes her gently with the magazine. ❤️

At the ending, Scully’s tenderness about Mulder losing his friend is touching. The whole episode she was antagonistic towards Karin, thinking she had an ulterior motive, but in the end she did something altruistic. She was Mulder’s friend, and proved that in the end she wasn’t a bad person, at least in some ways. Scully knows he’ll blame himself, as well.

They have a really sweet interaction here. Scully making sure he’s okay, Mulder reassuring that he will be, talking about how he “believed her too quickly”. (He is a learning animal. Oh shit I made another corny joke, my b.)

The lamp is still aimed at the picture of them in the office. Like a fucking spotlight saying “THIS PLACE IS OURS.”

Scully Being Territorial, End Notes

I’m partially being silly when talking about this aspect of Scully’s personality, but I have to discuss a few things.

After the shit they’ve been through with Diana, I can’t blame Scully for overreacting and being protective of Mulder, not wanting to see him manipulated again.

That being said, this isn’t the first time she’s been possessive when it comes to him. I think it’s probably one of her flaws - she can get irrationally jealous when Mulder gets attention from another woman. It’s NOT just protectiveness but stems from her longing for something more with him, her fear that someone will swoop in and take the place in his life that she wants. I can empathize with that, I suffer from terrible jealousy sometimes myself (so perhaps this is a bit of self-projection, but hey, this is my analysis, so that’s what I see).

I absolutely love Scully, but I love that she seems like a real character, with flaws and eccentricities that truly make her unique.

[countessofbiscuit]

For the ask thing: N, T, W for tcw :)

ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ

N: Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom.

An appreciation for how massive the GAR really is — even if you subscribe to the ridiculously low-balled canonical size of the army, Fives has no reason to be chummy with everyone, ffs. If Anakin and Obi-Wan weren’t attached at the hip, Rex and Cody would hardly ever lay eyes on each other because there is such a disparity in rank (which should indicate a wildly different brief, but lol, this is TCW, where a marshal commander leads from the trenches and a mere captain has a seat at the strategy table). Obviously, this is just a personal gripe: I don’t actually care how people choose to approach the GAR in their stories, this is all about having fun … *I* just have more fun reading fics that are somewhat grounded in realities.

Mating cycles/heats — idk it just seems to me that this fandom with a plethora of alien species to play with doesn’t explore reproductive diversity and weirdness enough. 

Tolerance of clonecest (or whatever the hell you wanna call it, I use that term as shorthand; whether or not clone-on-clone maps onto IRL incest taboos is an essay for another day) — it’s just … it’s interesting to me that folks are more squicked by the possibility that two identical walking war crimes may frot because they have no one else and find some small measure of comfort in each other than, idk, the brutal realities of their lives where death, mutilation, and maiming are omnipresent — and this pervasive idea that clones are the Goodest Bois just out there wearing flower crowns and frying only droids all day makes me : \ This isn’t an exhortation for people to just ‘get over’ their squicks, but I do believe in examining them. 

T: Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Headcanon: Cody is not a born-again Mando nor does he have any time for whatever watered-down Mandalorian bullshit filtered down from the Spec Ops wing. 

Question this headcanon first sought to answer: Why doesn’t Cody wear a kama? 

Id-scratching Justification: He loves this thighs.

Plausible Justification: He likes his legs to be unencumbered for roundhouse kicks. 

Solid Justification I’ve adopted from kaasknot: He earned his advanced-recon stripes in ARF not ARC school. 

My Meta Justification: The line clones do not adopt Mandalorian culture or language wholesale. 

I can’t even qualify this with “call me a RepComm snob, but …” because there’s even LESS foundation for the clones-are-vode idea in the new canon. From where would they have imbibed it? Outside the brief nod to Fenn Rau’s pilot instructor days on Kamino, new canon has not given us any reason to believe the line clones had Mandalorian trainers. And even if you discount new canon’s Jango-is-not-a-Mandalorian heresy, Kamino would not be at pains to emphasize their products’ connection to a culture so perennially at odds with their client (the Jedi/Republic). 

Upon deployment, really almost anything goes; but to say that clone culture wouldn’t hold up pretty firm in the face of other galactic cultures is a little demeaning, and however much people absorb in their search for identity, why would the clones have immediately glomped onto Mandalorian concepts? Why not Corellian? Or Kuatian? Or Chandrillan? Or hells, even Force traditions? Someone may have pointed out to the odd clone, “hey, y’all were made in the image of a notorious Mandalorian!” and set some wheels turning, and sure, Boil was resourceful enough to do his own homework and decide that he quite liked the precepts of a certain group of Mandalorian paramilitary extremists and wanted to slap their sigil on his helmet, but there’d be such a diversity of osmotic experiences in an army of millions/billions spread out across a galaxy that I simply cannot buy the idea that the clones all woke up one fine day thinking of themselves as Mando or Mando-adjacent. 

Setting aside new canon, which I find deathly dull, I prefer RepComm, with its assertion that many of the RCs are born-again Mandos after their sergeants (indeed, the Republic almost has a fifth-columnist problem in Spec Ops with the True Mando influence of the Nulls and certain Alpha ARCs), but the average line trooper view of that mentality is “y'all are a fucking cult.” 

The line troops would identify firstly as brothers and soldiers of the Republic, and they would’ve had close to 0 touchpoints with the Prime Clone. In fact, many might resent the connection, especially deeper into deployment (“What has Mandalore ever done for me? They're a bunch of loose cannons — if they aren't refusing to lend a hand, they're actively leading Sep militias for pay. Fuck the lot of them,” etc. etc.). It would have required a shitton of cultural and linguistic leakage from the Spec Ops wing for the bulk of the line troopers to know even more than a handful of words in Mando’a at the time of Geonosis. (I can believe swear words would’ve been adopted hella fast, if only to fill a vacuum.)

But again, the army is not a monolith, and I am fully on board with the idea that some Alpha ARCs made it their mission to teach Vode An to every unit they came across and the sheer epicness made it wildly popular, and that they spread certain words and concepts (vod, shebs, di’kut, Manda, oya, kara, kandosii, etc.) like a rash. Or a company or two got teamed with a Mando sergeant and two squads of RCs for a month and were belting out “Coruscant'a aden mhi” by the end of it. Or a division found itself with an Alpha-ARC XO when their Jedi General's CC got popped two weeks after Geonosis and Alpha-89 wouldn’t rest until every trooper knew Dha Werda Verda by heart and backwards. Just … show me the work — why should I accept that Bly speaks fluent Mando’a in the bedroom? WHY? Invest me in your clone-culture worldbuilding!

ANYWAY, to bring this back round to my die-on-this-hill headcanon about Cody … he doesn’t like kamas or feel compelled to wear one. Setting aside fun Cody-was-an-Alpha-trained-spec-ops-intern-for-a-month-and-hated-it backstories aside, I just don’t think the dude had the time of day for all that the Manda are watching us warrior brethren, hold your buy’ce high vode, one tribe one dream osik. His identity is wrapped up in overseeing the Third Army and serving as General Kenobi’s right-hand man; on balance (if we’re trying to be realistic, see: above), Cody interacts more with natborn officers and Jedi and fellow CCs than your average ground pounder trooper, and Obi-Wan and Republic officers certainly aren’t going to wax lyrical about Mandalore anytime soon. Obviously, Marshal Fucking Commander Cody is well within his rights to read whatever he wants and talk to whomever he wants and adopt whatever beliefs and language he wants. He has all the resources at this fingertips and clearance that would probably make a lot of natborn admins in REPINT weep. But I don’t personally see him going Mando, though it amuses him to watch Rex try :p The minute Cody earnestly starts using Mando’a in a fic, I’m usually out.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Hmm. I spent a good hour’s walk thinking about this and came up blank. Hate is a strong word anyway, and if it’s well-written, I can be sold on anything. But, I can almost guarantee I will never click on ABO unless it’s been recc’d or written by a friend. Not because I have any moral objection, just that it doesn’t interest me and good characterization is often lost to the mandatory ABO dynamics.

… on the flip side, I will ALWAYS click on Fuck-or-Die :D

[shardminds]

I would stop the world for you

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones Rating: E for smut  WC: 6975 ABO!AU

Scratching an itch is what she’d called it, over breakfast with a barely-there smile and a smear of whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her bottom lip. It. This. Them.

He’d known that it would be easy to fall for her. He’s been trying not to ever since.

Here it is! The ABO you’ve all been waiting for... maybe? 

I want to give a BIG thank you to Salem (@artistic-writer) who is not only the reason for this works conception but also the brave soul that beta'd the living shit out of it, helped me muddle together a summary after I killed my brain while writing and put up with my whiny arse throughout. The bitch is fantastic. Show her, her writing and her art some love!

I also want to thank Sara (@darkcolinodonorgasm) for giving this a once over at the 4k mark and screaming at/with me when I thought my muse had run out. You're wonderful!

Also on AO3

Tagging a few who showed interest early on! @thisonesatellite​, @kmomof4​, @hollyethecurious​, @winterbaby89​, @gingerchangeling​, @resident-of-storybrooke​, @tiganasummertree​

It started with a text. Usually, Killian would have let it be and left the message unread until his break for fear of Liam catching him slouched over the battered oak workbench in the corner of their somehow impeccably kept workshop, eyes glued to his phone rather than the carburettor of the ‘76 Impala he should be working on. It would have earned him a lecture on professionalism and appearance and the same ‘this business is important’ shpiel Liam came out with every time he caught any member of their small team in a moment of distraction. As CEO of Jones & Jones Auto Refurbishments, he tended to let his ruling Alpha traits come through as a business owner - assertive, confident, loyal and a little bit of an arse if he didn’t get his own way. Killian, similarly Alpha in his nature, knows they’re unfortunately similar in their personalities, although he likes to pride himself on not being an arse all the time and being the more likeable Jones sibling. Hopefully, many people would back him up on that. They’d butted heads throughout their lives but, at the end of the day, Liam is all he’s got and a simple text message is usually not worth losing his brother’s favour over.

Liam wasn’t there today though, choosing instead to meet up with some of their more high profile customers to discuss refurb schedules in the spring quarter. His absence bumps Killian up from CEO’s younger-not-little brother and head mechanic to CEO’s younger-not-little brother, head mechanic and acting CEO until Liam gets back from his weekend away talking shop with a bunch of ponces who buy classic cars but have no clue about the maintenance or upkeep. It’s a lengthy title. They’re working on it. The biggest take away from his temporary promotion is that he can check his phone whenever he damn well pleases. Will and Robin are working away on the rust bucket of a Mini Cooper that had been dropped off yesterday by a disgruntled Graham on the other side of the workshop. They’re bickering, as usual, over if the vehicle will need a respray or not. Killian lets himself zone out of their squabbling as he pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

What’s waiting there for him has a thrum of arousal awakening before he can even compose himself to read it fully. Emma. His best friend, confidant and the occasional recipient of his knot whenever her heat gets the better of her.

It’d been less than 48 hours since he’d seen her last to fuck out the residual energy his rut had left coursing through him. It was needy and raw and, when his knot hit, he’d had to stop himself from clamping down on the gland in the juncture of her neck. There was no way he’d have been able to resist sinking his teeth into the supple skin there if his rut was in full swing but that’s exactly the reason they’re careful about the scheduling of their trysts – avoiding his rut and indulging her heat whenever possible. They have apps to log it and everything.

With spring coming in, most Alphas were taking time off to handle their season. Killian had felt his coming a mile off and immediately locked himself away and started prepping high-protein meals, sterilizing his toys and cancelling all his plans – including the ones involving a certain willing Omega. He likes her a lot more than he probably should, but he doesn’t want to force the obligation of his mark onto her. A lot of other Alphas would’ve already. He’s been told as much and knocked half as many out for trying. Always coming to Emma afterwards, battered and bloody. She welcomes him with open arms, cleans his wounds and thanks him in her own way. He knows she doesn’t want that whole marked, barefoot and pregnant life and he respects that. There’s no way he’s ready to bring kids into the world. His one-bedroom apartment above the workshop is no place to raise a child, for god’s sake. He knows Emma feels the same. Her reliance on the contraceptives Dr Whale supplies her with is concrete proof of that. She even keeps a box in Killian’s bedside table, just in case.

As much as he’d love a repeat performance of the other night, they’d already discussed their clashing calendars. Liam was away on business and Emma was covering for David at the station while he rode out his rut. Well… his wife rode it out. They’d be fine for a couple of weeks. Killian has a reminder in his phone for when Emma’s next heat is due to hit so he knows when to stock up on carby foods, ice cream and good coffee. He’s freed up that week for her, knowing how needy she can get through her heat.

Regardless, she doesn’t usually text him while he’s at work. She knows how Liam gets. It must be something important. He swipes open his phone, taking a second to smile at his lock screen. It’s a picture of the two of them, curled up with matching cups of hot chocolate and a shared blanket that he’d taken at some point to prove to Ruby that they occasionally do things other than fucking. Sometimes ‘Netflix and Chill’ means just that. Emma’s hair is a mess and so is his but their smiles are genuine and it makes his heart warm every time. He flicks up her messages with another swipe of his thumb and his smile falls.

Swan: I’m early. Need you now. Please.

She means her heat. He’s not stupid. Had it been a month already? A quick check to his calendar shows that she’s not due for another week at least. They meticulously planned these things. Killian Jones, a self-professed neat freak, and Emma Swan, the proud owner of a ‘floordrobe’, disagree on a lot of things when it comes to personal organisation. The one thing they do agree on, however, is keeping track of their cycles.

The last time she’d been early, they ended up fucking in the back of her Yellow VW Bug on the way home from a beach trip with the Nolans. She’d been wearing the smallest bikini he’d ever seen, the two black triangles only just covering her breasts before being secured by a thin strap at her nape and a second behind her back. Instead of matching bottoms, she’d gone with a pair of frayed denim shorts that brushed the tops of her thighs and hugged her behind so deliciously that he could barely keep a hold of the growl brewing in his throat. Sand clung to her arse and the back of her legs and he wanted nothing more than to brush it off and pull her into his lap. He could smell her arousal creeping up on her before she could, approaching as inevitably as the tide, and he knew they would not make it back to her apartment before it hit. For the sake of David, Mary Margaret and the rest of the families trying to enjoy themselves on a rare sunny beach day, Killian bundled Emma into the cramped back seat of her car and began the two-hour drive back to Storybrooke.

She had him pull over after half an hour to give her a hand, so to speak.

The upholstery stains had been a bitch to get out.

Before thinking of the consequences, he fumbles out a text back to her.

K. Jones: Be there in 5.

“Rob! Will!” He calls out across the shop, knowing he’s been heard when the incessant bickering turns to silence. The two Betas would be able to handle things on their own for the day. They’d get no work done, sure, but he could afford that. Work had been slow all morning and there was no sign of it picking up any time soon. As long as they finish the Mini by the week’s end, Liam will be none the wiser. Pulling on his leather jacket, Killian headed over their way. “Something’s come up. Can you cover for me?”

“What is it this time, lover boy?” Will chimes in, appearing from under the hood of Graham’s Mini, his white vest smeared with oil despite him not remotely touching the engine today. One eyebrow raised in a questioning glare. “Missus need you to lick her boots again?”

Rob issues him with a slap, sending his friend’s head straight into the hood of the car with a metallic thud and a groan. They’d have to buff that one out later. Well…Will would.

“That’s no way to talk to your superior, William. Show some respect.”

Rob laughs at the snarl he gets in return, reaching across to ruffle his friend’s buzzcut. Will clenches his teeth, biting out his response. “Call me William one more time and I’ll show you some respect.”

Killian had always found their relationship a little odd. Will is always ready for a fight, a punch first ask questions later kind of bloke and Robin is the one that drags him back to reality with a gentle hand…and maybe occasionally a firm shove. They’re two sides of the same coin and Liam would be lost without them in the shop. Hell, Killian would be lost without them in his life.

Especially now.

“Lads, I’m trusting you to not burn the place down. Lock up when you’re done, will you?” He launches his keys at Rob who plucks them out of the air and tucks them into the breast pocket of his pristine overalls, patting them for good measure. Rob, he could trust. Will, on the other hand…It’s a good job Liam had gone all out on their liability insurance.

They bid him farewell with a sarcastic “Aye aye, Captain!” before Killian can protest. He doesn’t have the time to bollock them for being insolent. Plus, they’re doing him a favour by watching over the shop, both automatically aware of the nature of his absence. He flips them off, jumping into his Jeep and slamming it into gear before speeding across town with little regard for the speed limit. It’s okay. He’s got connections in the sheriff’s office.

Well… one connection. The same connection he’s about to fuck the living daylights out of.

Scratching an itch is what she’d called it, over breakfast with a barely-there smile and a smear of whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her bottom lip. It. This. Them.

He’d known that it would be easy to fall for her. He’s been trying not to ever since.

Emma’s apartment building is tucked away on the other side of Storybrooke. Past main street and the town hall, almost on the edge of the town boundary. The whole apartment block is a sanctuary for unclaimed Omegas; tucked far enough away that they’re able to endure their heats in peace, but close enough that you can still get lunch delivered from Granny’s if needed. Alphas, upon entry, have to provide ID, evidence of their previous rut and what their intentions are while visiting. Luckily, Ruby was on duty today – pillar-box red nails offering him a little wave as he passes by the entrance checkpoint. Killian didn’t even have to slow his Jeep. She had the barriers open for him already. Emma must’ve called ahead.

Rolling his truck into the nearest parking bay, Killian almost forgets to check if he’s locked it before he’s vaulting over the fence and sprinting into the sterile building, taking the linoleum stairs two at a time to get to Emma’s third-floor apartment faster. The building smells of bleach and fresh laundry but, underneath it all, he can taste something distinctly her. Earthy yet fresh, sweet and almost spicy. It swells around him like a warm embrace when she throws open her door.

He hadn’t even knocked.

She’s a sight for sore eyes dressed in one of his old band t-shirts, logo far too faded to be legible anymore, and a pair of boy shorts that do nothing to hide how slick she is, wetness seeping through the material with every second spent stood in the doorway. She’s gorgeous and glowing, a thin sheen of sweat causing her to glisten under the fluorescence of the hallway lights, flecks of gold catching in her lust-darkened eyes. Her hair hangs in matted curls over her left shoulder and he knows she must have been too impatient to blow dry it that morning, instead opting to let it air dry while she took care of herself in other ways. Fuck. He can’t think about that right now. The tang of her heat in the air makes him want enough as it is. He does not need filthy images of Emma trying to get herself off with the knot toy he’d bought for her last year when her heat and his rut had clashed. He does not need to think of how she was probably whining for him, aching to be filled by something real, way before she texted him to come over.

She wants him, needs him, and he can smell it rolling off her in waves.

It’d be rude not to oblige.

She must’ve had the same thought because she pounces on him the second he moves to step forward, arms surrounding his neck and legs circling his waist. He can’t help but reach down to her arse, giving it a light pinch which has her letting out an indecent moan before she’s crashing their lips together. He shouldn’t miss her. It’d not been two days since he last had her, hard and fast against the tiled walls of his shower and yet, when she’s like this, desperate and begging in his arms, he damns every second they were apart. The door slams shut behind them and Killian promptly shoves her up against it, swallowing down the noise it earns him.

Emma kisses are urgent and powerful, overwhelming in their ferocity. Omegas aren’t usually celebrated for their power but she’s different. Her heat brings out a side to her that drowns out his comprehensive thought with fiery kisses and insistent touches. She tears down his resolve so completely. Is there any way he can deny her when she’s like this, hands impatiently tearing at the buttons of his shirt?

Omegas are commonly seen as the weaker class, apparently only superior in their fertility, and abused by the archaic roots of their world. Killian had never understood the prejudice held against them, even as a boy. He’d been born into privilege and he accepted that. As the son of an Alpha father, sibling to an Alpha brother and an Alpha himself, he will never be able to comprehend the struggle that comes with being born with a target on your back. He will never know the pain of suffering through twelve heats a year or the immense risk that other Alphas pose on a regular basis when you’re unclaimed. He will never know the sheer unadulterated bliss that Emma feels when he fills her so full of his come that it leaks around his pulsing knot, mixed with her sheer slick on its path down her thighs. He will never know just how much trust she puts in him when his teeth graze over the patch of skin along her neck that calls for his bite. But, for her, he tries.

“Stop thinking.” She growls, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth, utilising probably more force than intended. Her hands make their way under his shirt in an attempt to push it off his shoulders but it doesn’t budge far, the buttons she’d missed in her haste straining to accommodate. Her eyes, emerald and dangerous, flutter shut as he lets the hand that is not supporting the small of her back slip beneath her sodden underwear. The scent of her hits him stronger now and all he can do is bite back the groan in his chest. She’s soft and silken and he can see how absolutely consumed she is by her pleasure in the way she relaxes into his touch. Her lips part against his mouth in a gasp. He wants.

“I came all this way and that’s all you have to say?”

“Killian, please.” Her thighs clench his hips as he dips one finger into her centre. He’ll never tire of this. Feeling her twitch and whine as his deft fingers work their magic. She unravels beneath his touch and it’s maddening. Teasing her, caressing her core and revelling in the slick that spills beneath his ministrations, builds his own arousal in an agonising burn. Her lips take his again in a breathless kiss, a mess of mouths and tongues and teeth. Fire rushes through his veins as he fights the urge to fuck her senseless right there. As much as he wants to slam her against the white varnished wood and take her so deep she can’t help but cry out, he doesn’t fancy a repeat of the last time they’d been so impatient. He’d awoken on the floor, half-hard, after literally fucking the door off its hinges and knocking himself out on the frame on the way down. Emma had laughed about it for weeks after and the apartment block billed him for the repairs.

Beds are easier to replace and Killian has fucked her in his fair share of them.

He smells her orgasm approaching before it hits. He always does. The heady scent of her sex becoming richer, sweeter, thicker before he dips a second finger inside her cunt, pushing deeper to massage the rough spot that sends her over the edge every single time.

Emma can’t help but run her mouth as she comes. Shaking in his hold, fists balled in his hair, cursing his name between kisses until she’s spent and boneless. Each expletive sending a throb to his cock, straining against his jeans. Such foul language doesn’t come to her naturally but Killian drags it out of her with each circle of his index finger against her clit.

“Such a filthy mouth, Swan.” He smirks, breaking away to press a kiss to her neck. The resulting shiver that creeps down her spine has her clench around him once more, a wave of slick coating his hand. Her shorts are ruined, completely soaked through. It makes it all the easier to tear them off as he removes his hand from her folds, seams protesting as the fabric splits, revealing her in her entirety to him. Pink and wet and fucking delectable.

He’s wearing too many clothes.

“I can’t help it.” She shrugs, still breathless, fingers returning to the buttons on his shirt that she’d missed in her insistence to run her hands through the thick hair there. “Blame it on my heat, or your fingers, or both.”

Killian chuckles. His chest jostling her ever so slightly where they’re still stood. With practised ease, he begins the short distance to the bedroom.

“I’d love to take all the credit but you were already halfway gone by the time I got here.” Together they shrug the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the hardwood floor as they make their way. Emma leans into him then, letting her head rest against his chest, just over his heart. He knows she’s got more in her and the next wave will take them both in its wake, but for now, he’s content to just hold her as she recovers, her breathing falling into sync with his own heartbeat, avoiding the cluttered glass coffee table as he walks her through the living room.

“I’ve come four times today.” Her breath is hot against his nipple, which hardens with the combined weight of her confession almost as if commanded to do so. He stops short of her bedroom, adjusting her weight in his arms so he can open the door without disturbing her further from her rest. “I was hoping I’d be able to get it out of my system without you. I know you’ve been busy.”

“Emma, love, don’t be stupid. That’s why you keep me around.” Pressing a kiss to her crown, inhaling the soft vanilla of the shampoo that she loves so much, he steps inside the room she calls her own. It’s messy, not as much as it used to be but more than he’d allow his own space to get, and he has to tiptoe between abandoned outfits she’d probably tried on that morning before deciding that work was just off the cards today. It’s never advisable for Omegas to be in public for their heat, claimed or otherwise. He can imagine her pouting in the mirror, hair wet, arousal rearing its head between her thighs, unsatisfied and wanting. “I can make you feel good. I want to.”

“Ah yes, my own personal fuck toy. How chivalrous of you.” He dips her onto the bed, ignoring her sarcasm, and pushes aside the toys she’d clearly been using, still sticky with her essence – a couple of small vibrators, a string of anal beads and the knot toy he’d supplied her with over a year ago. She’d admitted to him that it didn’t get much use. She’s come to rely on him for satisfaction, these days. Why would she need a toy? Killian adds washing them to his mental to-do list because she will definitely forget once he’s done with her. Emma unfurls her legs from around his waist and lets her back slump against the mattress with a soft thud. In the soft light from her bedroom window, he gets a good full look at her core, fresh slick coating her outer lips in a delicious glaze. Maybe later he’ll get the chance to feast upon it, eating like a man starved in that way that makes her toes curl and her voice hoarse from screaming.

“If that’s what the lady wishes?” He hums, dragging his eyes from her cunt to her tits. When had she removed her–his shirt? The swell of them is enough to drive him wild, their pert buds the same soft dusky rose as her mouth. He leans down to take one into his mouth, not missing the relaxed sigh it earns him. Looking up at her from this angle makes his cock stir, her head thrown back, long pale neck exposed in a subconscious invitation. He squeezes at her neglected nipple with slick coated fingers, trailing patterns into the quickly pebbled flesh there.

Fuck, he wants to mark her. Take her as his over and over again. He wants to fuck her through his rut and show her how deep under his skin she has managed to crawl. Every inch of him yearns for her. Every second they’re not like this, together, entwined, is agony. He can’t let himself think that way, not like this. Emma is not an object, not a thing to be possessed and claimed. She’s headstrong and stubborn as any Alpha. She belongs to no one.

Her moans sear into his mind, a permanent brand, a reminder of everything he cannot have.

Tonight, like many other nights, he pretends she belongs to him.

“This lady definitely wishes.” She sighs, bringing him back to reality. Somehow she always seems to ground him, despite being the root of all his desire. A smile, a laugh, a cry. It always brings him right back. Back to her. She squeezes at his shoulders, pulling him up so she can kiss him again. It’s languid and warm, passion simmering beneath her tongue as it finds its way into his mouth. These are his favourite. The kind of kisses that burn slowly, growing deeper and deeper until they’re both left gasping for air. He could kiss like this forever. Suffocation be damned. Her hands slide down his chest, through the hair she loves to toy with so much, down across his firm stomach. The muscles there flutter under her touch and Killian’s cock aches to be released from its denim prison. She seems to notice just as he does. Her hand makes the final stretch to where he wants her most, cupping him roughly and giving a hard grasp. He snarls, animalistic desire shooting through him. It’s inevitable, the call of her heat claiming him fully. She loves it this way the most. Rough and hard. Alpha.

One eyebrow quirks up, behind a mop of messy blonde hair, with kiss bruised lips and eyes so dark they’re almost black. A challenge. He loves a challenge.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?”

Their fingers clash while trying to unbuckle his belt, caught between the dark thatch of hair there and the soft leather. Emma retreats first, choosing instead to utilise the belt loops and tug him to his knees between her spread thighs. Laced with urgency, their kisses grow sloppy, insistent and chaotic. Killian struggles to shove his jeans low enough to let his cock spring free. They don’t have time for anything else. She needs him now. Slick glistens as it trails down her thighs, the sheets below soaked with it and every hitch of her breath drives him wild with hunger. Everything smells of it, the inescapable musk of her sex drowning his last rational thought.

His Omega needs him.

“Killian.”

Pushing into her is better than anything he could have ever prepared for. Years ago, the first time she’d invited him to bed, he’d popped his knot embarrassingly fast from just the sheath of her alone. The feeling tight and foreign. He’d never had an Omega before. He hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of her heat. It hit him like a train. It still does. They’d laughed it off, her face pressed into his neck, and he’d vowed to make up for it in other ways, ensuring she was thoroughly satisfied by the time the swelling in his cock had dispersed half an hour later.

He’s had more than enough practice now, though. She’s hot and wet and still so impossibly tight. Slick gathers on the tip of his length as he slides true. All of him. Emma doesn’t even flinch, taking it all in her stride and demanding more with small cants of her hips, breathy moans falling from her lips with every inch. Killian was fucked from the get-go. With shallow pants, she writhes against him, legs winding their way around his hips again, only wanting him to move deeper, faster, harder as he tortures her with devilishly slow thrusts. The drag of his thick cock against her insides draws out the most sinful sounds and Killian can’t help but slow to take it all in, hands gripping her hips.

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” Arousal coats his voice, deep and gravelly. An entirely different man to who he was five minutes ago. Not a man at all. An Alpha. Killian the Mechanic didn’t have the balls to so brazenly ask that question. Killian the Alpha definitely did. Emma’s resulting moan at his speech makes him throb, his cock dragging deliciously against that spot inside her that makes her only cry out for more. It’s intoxicating to watch himself disappear completely inside her sopping heat, folds moving to accommodate his size. “You fucked yourself over and over wishing it was me. Wishing I was here to fill your greedy wet cunt. Am I right?”

She can’t even form words; head thrown back, hair splayed out in a crown of gold against soft white sheets, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open as she allows herself to sink into bliss. Like this, a slave to her desire, she’s otherworldly. This is his power.

He takes her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes while his hips snap with a little more force. Not as rough as she really wants it but rich with the promise of more. Always more. “Answer me, Omega.”

“Y-yes,” Hearing the words break through a deep moan only fuels him further. Knowing he’s responsible for every ounce of her pleasure proving to be a greater turn-on than anything else ever could be, flames of his impending orgasm teasing at his base. He might be the Alpha but she holds all the power here. “But it wasn’t enough.” She sighs, teeth catching her bottom lip as his cock drags almost fully out, taking a second to nudge her clit and the slick gathered there before plunging straight back in, deeper, drawing a sob from her in return. “Fuck, Killian! It’s never enough.”

“And why’s that, love?” His voice is calmer than he feels. He leans down to press a kiss between her breasts, letting his tongue drag in the valley between them. Salt blooms on his tongue along with the unmistakable tang of her. All five of his senses are under siege by the very presence of the Omega – his Omega – in his arms; her sharp taste, her rich scent, her needy touch, her fucked voice and the sight of her completely at his mercy all adding to the sensory overload that has his own release building low in his gut. It tears at whatever shred of control he has left, leaving only raw impulse behind.

“Because it’s not you, Alpha.”

With that, Killian breaks.

He pulls out completely, cool air hitting his length, barely noticing Emma’s cry of protest. She clenches around the open air, slick leaking from the space left in his wake. Seeing her like this, open and wanting, has electricity fizzing beneath his skin. The primal urge to take her over and over clawing deep in his belly. Her thighs tremble, still clinging to his hips despite the distance he tries to put between them, resisting his attempts to untangle her crossed ankles from behind his back. He wants to slide in, take her until she’s filled with nothing but him, and ride it out that way until they’re both spent and softening in the glow. He wants to tell her he loves her while they’re tied together. He wants to sink his teeth into the juncture of her neck and be hers until his last breath. He wants to be her Alpha. Wholly. But he can’t.

He can fuck her but he can’t love her and, in some ways, that’s worse.

She drags her nails through the carpet of hair at his chest, noticing his hesitation and striving to bring him back from the edge of madness. Back to her. With one touch, she’s expressing more than she ever could with words, not that she could even form words at this point, her breath coming in gasps. Totally ravished. It says Are you okay? and I’m here and, atop slick soiled sheets and freely given moans, Mine.

It does nothing to ground him now. Nothing can.

One word pulses through Killian’s mind. Instinctual. Carnal. Feral. Slamming her ankles to the bed and flipping her onto her stomach with abundant force, it rips from him with no hesitation.

“Present.”

In another life, maybe it’d be different. Maybe he’d be a gentle lover, revelling in every inch of her skin, tasting wherever his tongue could reach. Maybe he’d be able to worship her in the way he wants, with prayers dying on his lips, finding god in her thighs and the devil in her curses.

In another life, he would not have to hide the fact that Emma holds his heart in her palm, deft fingers holding the ability to destroy him entirely. But that’s what he does. He hides, always, behind filthy words and hungry kisses, giving her everything she wants in the form of his thick cock coaxing her to completion again and again. She loves it, informing him in screams when pleasure hits. He loves her, irrevocably. It’s too easy to forget that they’re nothing more than friends when she’s like this.

Pushing to her hands and knees, Emma slides her hips up from the bed with a hiss of yes alpha. Slick, viscous and rich, leaks further down her legs. She flips her hair over one shoulder as she looks to him, revealing the curve of her spine from her arse to her nape and the scars of their previous encounters. They litter the pale expanse of her back, evidence of where he’d clawed too hard at her flesh and drawn blood. Regret tinges the memories a little, but not enough to stop him. Killian lets his eyes drag over her, ready and willing and calling out for him. Half lidded eyes, lust glazed and begging, find his as his gaze reaches her face. She’s beautiful, ethereal in a way he can’t quite describe with words, and like this, submissive and yet still fully in control, he falls just a little bit more.

“Please, just fuck me.”

Did he ever stand a chance?

He sheathes himself in seconds with no resistance, a snarl pulled from his throat by the overbearing heat of her dripping cunt. It’s almost too much and his fingers grip at her hips; the stark slap of skin on skin, broken moans, and laboured creak of the bed an overwhelming cacophony of sound that stokes the flame in his belly. The telltale signs of his release tug at his periphery but he staves it off. What kind of Alpha would he be if he didn’t ensure his Omega was satisfied first?

No. Not his.

Bypassing the thought completely, he slides a hand from her hip to her core, gliding over the engorged nub he finds there. One pinch. That’s all it takes for Emma to collapse face-first into the bed with a scream caught by her pillows, arse still proudly presented because she’s nothing if not obedient. Her orgasm hasn’t claimed her just yet, but it’s close; insides gripping him impossibly tighter.

“You're naughty, Omega, presenting like this, arse up and suffocating me with the scent of you,” Killian tries his best to enunciate, channelling every modicum of control he has left into keeping his voice deep and authoritative. The Alpha. Her Alpha. It calls to her basest nature, making her writhe with want. It must work. Along with the caresses of his fingers against where they’re joined, it has her insides fluttering. Any noises she makes are caught in the sheets below and he’s glad for that. Anything more would be a death sentence. “But you know how your Alpha likes to fuck you, don't you?"

No. Not hers.

Emma turns her head to the side, sweeping blonde waves shifting just enough that he can see her face as he fucks her with renewed vigour. The broken please cuts like ice down his spine, before it breaks off in a whine. It’s too much for her, being filled and stroked and brought to the edge. And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way; always urging him on when Killian ever dared to fuck her slowly. She delights in the aches and bruises he leaves behind.

He could fuck her for hours like this, pounding into her with reckless abandon and not a care in the world but, perhaps selfishly, he wants more. He wants and wants and wants. He wants an Omega to call his own, to fill up and care for, he wants to nest together through her heat and shower her in gifts and make her breakfast every day. Instead of some faceless Omega in the fleeting moments he lets himself think this way, it’s her. It’s always her.

He snaps hips in time with Emma’s hurried heartbeat. Staccato thrusts hitting her just right as his fingers match the pace.

“Alpha!” She sobs with her eyes clenched shut, balled fists clutched in sheets. He can feel her teetering on the edge. The precipice of her orgasm stirs his own and, when she screams at the fervent attention to her clit, her whole body shudders. He’s close, so close, fucking her through her climax as she convulses around him. The scent of her release permeates his skin and fogs his mind in a way that nothing else can. It’s heady and seductive and her.

“Emma.”

His knot comes, to no surprise, as quickly as she did. Swelling out from the base of his cock and dragging a moan from her spent form at the familiar stretch of it. His thrusts slow, movement stilted by the knot that secures him, emptying himself within her centre without a second thought. She hums as he fills her with warmth, eyes fluttering open just a little. Her smile is dangerous and his breath catches in his throat. Generally speaking, she’s fucked; hair even more of a mess than when he arrived, lips bruised from kisses and bites, sweat beading at her temples and in the dip of her collarbones. She’s fucked and when she looks at him like that, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth, he can’t help but groan as his cock stirs. How does she even have this effect on him? Even now, with his knot still solid inside her. With laboured breaths, he gently manoeuvers them onto their sides so they’re curled together on the bed. His jeans, still shoved just below his hips, making it slightly more difficult than it should be.

Emma relaxes against him for a while, resting against his arm tucked up under her head with that same secret smile. Only the sound of their own breathing breaking the silence between them. She’d be sated for a couple of hours after that, residual energy from her orgasm would see her through until the early evening. With a little help from his friend, double shot espresso, he’d be ready to go another round by then. If she asks him to stay, that is. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. He doesn’t force it. She can handle herself. It’s one of the things he likes so much about her.

Time passes agonisingly slowly and, as much as Killian could stay here forever with Emma Swan pulled close against him, he’s lost feeling in one of his arms and both of his legs.

“My Alpha?” The smirk is audible in her tone. Killian freezes, his whole body tensing beneath the weight of her words. She snuggles back against him, dragging his other arm over her waist, entwining their fingers together.

“What?” He can feel her chuckle against him and it jostles his softening cock, knot still full but well on its way to receding.

“You know how your Alpha likes to fuck you.” She grunts in a terrible impersonation of his dirty talk. Heat spreads from his chest to his face, a blanket of shame at his own outbursts. Now sated, his primarily Alpha urges were all in check, leaving Killian alone to deal with the consequences. Leaving Killian to explain why, in not as many words, he’d told his best friend that he was hers.

“Got caught up in the heat of the moment, is all.” He feebly tries to brush it off, but she turns in his arms to look him in the eyes. With hair splayed out in a halo of gold, there’s no fear or anger or shame on her face. Only the same smile. Any other protests turn to ash on his tongue. He wants to tell her the truth but he couldn’t bear the rejection. Having part of something was better than having none of it at all. Right? “You know how it is.”

“Maybe.” She pouts.

They lie together in silence for a little while longer, her fingertips tracing idle patterns on his wrist. He doesn’t know how much time goes by but he’s holding his breath for most of it. Cautious. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. If this is the only way he can have Emma, in friendship and in heat relief, he will take it. His knot is almost fully receded when she next speaks, turning and pressing a kiss to the column of his throat as he fully slips from her, soft and wet.

“Maybe next time my Alpha can let me ride him senseless?” She purrs, fingers tangling in the hair coating his chest. Killian doesn’t know how he has any strength left in him but, somehow, with Emma’s lips at his throat and her voice in his head, he does. Rolling her onto her back just as they were joined earlier, he hovers above her. She’s still smiling and it’s beautiful, one eyebrow raised as if to challenge him on it.

“Yours?” He almost chokes on the word, knowing that this step would be one they will never return from. She nods, shuffling so she can lean up to kiss him softly. It’s barely a press of lips, Killian too busy processing her words to be able to respond. “Really? Not just...?”

“I’m not ready to be marked yet, Killian, but It’d be nice to keep you around for more than… well… this. What do you say?” His forehead falls against hers, noses pressed together in a sweetness Killian never thought he’d be able to witness. She cups his cheek with her palm and he meets her halfway for another kiss, firmer but no less sweet. They come together, over and over again, taking their pleasure all over her apartment until he’s not sure where Emma ends and he begins. He would never have it any other way.

Killian doesn’t make it home that night.

He doesn’t make it home all week, actually. Rob and Will do not burn down the workshop but they also don’t finish the refurb work on Graham’s Mini and the suspicious head-shaped dent on the bonnet had yet to be buffed out.

Liam is going to kill him.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: your days are numbered; jon moxley

Notes:

So... I started writing what I thought was gonna be a feral!alpha Mox universe.. and surprise, surprise... I wrapped it up in 3 titles. But.. But.. I’m seriously considering actually writing the entire thing at some point. But I don’t know just yet. It’s one of those wild hairs / brain itches I can’t seem to get rid of, tbh. Anyway, this is part 1 there are two others that go with this. I’m gonna try to post them all close together, we shall see.

{ wanna send in one of these? here’s how | masterlist of fake fic titles  }

Summary:

It was the one thing he never thought he’d find.. Her.. Now he has to figure out a way to get her away from Shawn Spears. But once he has her all to himself, how will everything work out? Can he show her he’s not like the rest?

Pairing:

Jon Moxley x OFC, Grace

Warnings:

Mentions of violence, heavy alphaxomega implications, feral alpha.

The sweet and slightly tangy scent was back again and it had Mox tensing all over, pacing the hallway and clenching then unclenching his fists. He’d never felt more like a caged animal than he did this very moment.

Mox didn’t fucking like it. Oh, he liked the comfort knowing that he did have a mate and that he finally knew where she was and she was close.. It was the feeling like a caged animal that Mox couldn’t stand, that had him seething.

He’d been trying to shove it out all day but he’d yet to actually succeed. Trying to follow the scent trail to find her was futile, he always seemed to get wherever she’d been as she’d just left the area.

Oh, he had his suspicions about who she was. And even more suspicions about why she was kept so scarce, dangled just within his reach. These suspicions were confirmed almost the second the scent started to get really strong and Mox’s mouth began to water as fangs pricked at his gums, threatening to puncture through skin.

His cock was so hard it fucking hurt to breathe.

Mox knew exactly what this meant and he knew exactly why if he were to try and follow his nose again, he’d just miss her, again.

And frankly?

It was really starting to bring forth Mox’s inner animal. And Mox wasn’t in the mood to reign it in either.

Someone was staring at him, he could feel their eyes.

He turned and the scent of her got so fucking strong. He sniffed the air and bit back a groan as his eyes met hers. She kept staring, biting her lip and fidgeting. He picked right up on the unease in her scent and he felt that Alpha kicking in, taking over. Whoever had her uneasy was going to have hell to pay at his hands. He stopped himself, took a deep breath and tried to rationalize what was going on right now, all the while, staring right at her. He was honestly afraid to look away, afraid he’d look back and she’d be gone again.

… fuck… i’m done for… i’d kill for her.. Mine… all mine…

He took a step forward, intending to make his way over to her side, his rightful place, but Shawn Spears stepped between them and stared him down, arms folded over his chest.

“The fuck do you think you’re about to do, huh?” Shawn chuckled and shook his head. Behind him, he felt her tense up, felt her tugging at his hand.

“Not now.” Shawn’s words were sharp when he addressed Mox’s omega and Mox saw the way she flinched. He growled quietly, shoving himself against the guy. “I’m about to talk to her. Somethin you apparently don’t fuckin know how to do. My question to you, man is..” he shoved at Shawn again, “who the fuck do you think you are, huh? Keepin her from me.”

“Keeping her… From you. That’s rich, considering she’s mine.”

Mox’s eyes happened to settle on her and he shook his head, snorting as if he refused to accept what Shawn was saying. Which he did, with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t help but notice the way she seemed tense around Shawn. Almost like she didn’t want to be near the guy, let alone, be trotted out like arm candy or a trophy.

The thought of it sickened him.

The thought of it had him wanting to rip Shawn Spears limb from limb. If she weren’t standing there, he most likely would have.

His Omega was the only tether keeping Shawn Spears tied to this mortal plane. But just as soon as she’s somewhere safe, bet your entire ass, Mox found himself thinking, I’m gonna fuck you up. They’re gonna need special qualifications to identify the body down at the morgue when I’m done with you.

He never said a word, just calmly shoved at Shawn again. Shawn shoved back, not even bothering to move her out of harms way. It fell to Mox to do or say something to get her the fuck away from the fight that was about to take place.

“Hey, uh Blondie?”

She seemed to both perk up and tense at being directly spoken to by him. It really gave Mox a clear picture about how shit worked between Shawn and Mox’s kept Omega. The thought only made Mox clench his fists tighter. His reasons for snapping were growing more and more and his reasons to stay calm, while greater, were shrinking with each second that passed.

He got the sense about his Omega.. She was the shy sort. Timid, probably easily spooked. And it didn’t take an idiot to guess how Shawn might have picked right up on that fact and somehow worked his way in, used it to his advantage.

And that only further fuelled the rage within.

All Grace could do was tense up and watch the growing confrontation in concern. When Mox addressed her, she shifted her gaze to him and swallowed hard, trying to get her mouth and brain to work together.

… say something… She coaxed herself, but it didn’t work. She was still caught in the grips of her shock that she had a true Alpha, he was here and from the way he acted and the heavy notes of concern and desire his scent held, what Shawn claimed -that she wouldn’t be wanted, was a blatant lie, most likely cooked up by the man to keep her from waiting it out and trying to hope against hope that her true Alpha presented himself.

Knowing that, she just found herself disgusted with what was going on currently. All she wanted was to go to Mox, to be with him. To give herself over to him completely without hesitation.

She tried to push past Shawn, to go to Mox, but Shawn reached out, grabbing for her hand, jerking her right back behind him. He turned and eyed her, glaring. “You belong to me. You better remember that.”

“ I don’t belong to anyone.” Grace attempted to be assertive, but Shawn laughed and then mumbled in a lower tone, “You will, soon enough.”

“The hell I will.” Grace answered, shrinking away from him when he stepped closer. The only reason she even agreed to this stupid gimmick in the first place is the higher ups not wanting unmated Omegas roaming wild and free in the back, playing havoc on the unmated Alphas and causing chaos.

If she’d known Mox was her true Alpha, - or that he’d even have been a little interested in the whole concept of a bond like he apparently was come to find out, she never would have just agreed to valet Shawn.

If she could turn back the clock.. Knowing what she was aware of now, she never would have even given Shawn a second glance because Mox was quite literally everything she’d ever hoped for in an Alpha and then some. She locked eyes with Mox and Mox nodded to the side of where they all stood, trying to get her to move.

She tried to but Shawn, being the slippery eel he was known for, moved her right in front of him, smirking just as soon as Mox immediately stepped back just to keep himself from hurting his Omega. Shawn gave a dark chuckle at the action and scoffed. “I thought you were reckless, Mox. I thought you didn’t give a fuck about anyone but you. Don’t tell me you’re gonna go weak now, hmm? This is gonna be easier than I thought.”

Mox growled, stepping right back up. The movement put him right against her which was good, it meant he could get hands on her, get her out of the way and make one hundred percent certain that she was safe and remained safe.

Mox glanced down at the blonde Omega nestled between himself and Shawn and he boldly reached down, grabbing hold of her hips, pulling her closer to himself, glaring at Shawn the whole time, daring the other Alpha to do something.

Shawn stepped closer, every intention of doing the same thing, but Mox was quicker and he carefully plucked his Omega from between the two, raising to full height, smirking at Shawn as he did so. A quiet growl came from both males and Mox leaned in a little.

“Know what, Spears? I think I’m just gonna take her. I mean, she’s mine anyway. And you treat her like shit. She’s shakin she’s so goddamn scared of you.”

“It’s this.. The fighting.. That’s not helping…” Grace spoke up at last, even though her voice was almost a whisper. The whole confrontation was making her uncomfortable, the fact was only slightly mitigated by Mox staying close and providing her with just a little calm. “Definitely him though.. The way I know he’s gonna get angry later.” it slipped out before she could stop it, sealing Shawn Spears’ fate.

Shawn’s place in Grace’s life was reaching a speedy expiration. His days as her so called Alpha were numbered. If Mox had his way about how things played out, it was all going to end tonight.

Tully showed up before the fight could really even get started, whispering to Shawn. When Shawn tried to shove through Mox to grab her, Mox shoved him down onto the floor, leaning over Shawn, hauling him up by the collars of his vest, sneering in his face. “You ain’t gonna lay a hand on her. Ya not even gonna fuckin look at her. I’ll fuckin kill ya. Get lost you little bitch.” Mox let him fall back to the floor and Shawn sprang up, hitting Mox in the head from behind when he turned and he was more focused on Grace than he was on Shawn and any attempt at retaliation he might make.

Mox leaned into her, cupping her cheeks, staring down into her eyes. “Ya gonna be okay.”

Grace managed a nod and clung to Mox to stay on her feet when Shawn crashed into the two from behind. Mox growled quietly, whispered into her ear, “My changin room.. It’s down the hall. Get ya ass in there. I won’t be a second tops.”

“Mox, no..”

“Go, damn it. I’m gonna fuckin rip his head off. I don’t want you out here in the middle.”

His tone was firm enough to send a coating of slick rushing down her inner thighs and after a second, she was finally tapped on the shoulder by Riho, who grabbed hold of her wrist and muttered quietly about needing to get her out of harms way, whisking her off and away down the hall.

Mox whirled around and grabbed a chair in one fluid motion. The chair met Shawn’s head and Shawn grabbed at it next, trying to shove it into Mox’s midsection. The fight was just reaching that point of out of control when Cody ran down the hall, with some of the others, quick to break the two up.

“I want him in that ring! Tonight! He’s tryin to take my Omega.”

“You want me, Spears? You fuckin got me. And you won’t even be alive to breathe on her when I’m through with you.”

“So, you two are getting a match tonight. To settle this. Until then, Mox, Grace stays with you.” Cody spoke up, looking from one man to the other. Mox nodded, smirking at Shawn, reaching out to give the man one last good shove. “Works for me, boss. I’ll see you tonight, sunshine.” Mox snarled at Spears before stalking off, heading in the direction of his changing room… He had to make sure Grace was okay. If that asshole had done anything to her and Mox found out, then tonight, Mox was going to make doubly sure he ended Shawn Spears.

Shawn Spears’ days were numbered. He was quite literally, a dead man walking.

[glare-gryphon]

okay the cult AU update was so great!! thanks for your hard work on that and I hope we get to see more in this AU!

Part 5! (Ao3 Link)

Anakin’s new cell is much the same as all that came before it: sterile white walls, a sleeping mat, blankets to nest with. The sleeping mat is thicker than those he’s had before, and the blankets warmer, but he supposes the Master must think he deserves them now that he’s officially mated and likely carrying the Heir’s spawn. A few medical monitors whine in their displeasure nearby, the leads connected to Anakin’s skin yanked off in an earlier fit of anger. There is intrusive, and then there is too intrusive. If they wish to monitor his vitals, they are welcome to come and check on him themselves.

There is a part of him surprised that they haven’t, in fact. So soon after their mating ceremony, he would expect his new alpha to remain close by his side, solidifying the rudimentary bond formed by his claiming bite. The wound aches dully in the hollow of his throat, exacerbated every time he turns his neck. He’d prodded at it a few times, attempting to gauge its severity without getting out of the nest. While there is a mirror on the other side of the room, there is a vast expanse of open space between his nest and it. It is not a risk Anakin is willing to take.

As far as he can tell, the claiming bite seems to only be one neat imprint of teeth in the hollow of his throat. Above his collar bone, but not terribly high on his neck. There’s relief in the cleanness of the wound, having watched omegas walk away from the mating ceremony with their necks and shoulders torn and bloodied by their savage alphas. It was encouraged even, the alphas responsible clapped on the shoulders and cheered on as they led their new omega back to their home. Their feral behavior was always rewarded with praise, and Anakin can’t help but wonder if the Master was disappointed by his heir’s restraint. 

He can sense his mate’s presence nearby, but the man’s mind is too occupied to truly notice Anakin’s probing. He must be busy, Anakin thinks, setting up the new compound. It is always an ordeal to relocate—one the Master would complain about as Anakin sat at his side, staring dead-eyed at the floor and swallowing his revulsion while the old man stroked his hair like a treasured pet. There was always so much to be done: supplies to move, shelters to build, bodies to bury. Just the thought makes Anakin nauseous even now.

The Master collected a great many young omegas, in the times when the Order was stable. Pretty young things, snatched from their lives and dragged across the galaxy to waste away in the Master’s cells. Anakin had dared to make friends with one once, and only once. They’d arrived at the compound together, their cells just across the hall. He could have been Anakin’s twin, if not for scars that covered him head to toe. A fire, he’d told Anakin, when he was just a baby. If they really reached for one another, the tips of their fingers would just brush in the center of the aisle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough: grounding in the face of what their life had become.

But a great many young omegas are a great many mouths to feed, and a great many bodies to cram aboard the transports bound for their new home. And so the Master would walk slowly down the center aisle, considering every omega in turn as one might consider a herd of livestock. A subordinate followed at his heel, datapad in hand, silently recording the numbers of the cells the Master rattled off to him as he walked. Anakin didn’t understand, the first time it happened, when the Master paused before his cell and gestured for its number to be added to the list. Not until the guards came, long after the Master had gone.

He’d almost been glad, when the boy across the hall finally stopped screaming.

Anakin was small enough and the Master strong enough then to be carried aboard the transport to their new compound, bundled up in his lap and trembling through the terror that lingered in the days that followed. Young enough to believe the man when he apologized for the things Anakin witnessed, and scared enough to accept without argument the Master’s assertion that such things were necessary. That those imperfect creatures Anakin heard screaming in the night were a necessary sacrifice in the name of progress. Their people needed only the best young omegas, the Master said. The flawed, the broken, would only slow them down.

Anakin is all of these things and more, but his pretty face and his strength in the Force are enough for the Master to look the other way at his defiance. His outbursts, any violence he commits against his guards and caretakers, are treated more like the tantrums of an exhausted toddler than the struggles of a desperate man. The Master doesn’t care about his mind—not really. All he cares for is Anakin’s body, and the Force-strong children he could produce when paired with the right alpha from the Master’s collection.

And he finally got what he wanted, Anakin thinks bitterly as the door slides open to admit a pretty beta woman. He doesn’t recognize her face, but he can’t claim to know every caretaker who serves under the Master. Perhaps the woman who’d cared for him before no longer wished to handle him after he’d bitten her, or perhaps those omegas carrying are simply tended by another set of betas. It does not matter to Anakin, whose warning growl rumbles through the small cell. 

She settles on the floor halfway between the door and his nest, only the wobble in her soft smile betraying nervousness beneath her calm veneer. She is pretty, if plain, the way most of the caretakers are. Brown robes hang loosely on her body, clean and neat. Anakin is starkly aware of his own nakedness in comparison. Someone has dressed him in loose pants, but his torso remains bare to accommodate the monitor's leads.

“Hello, Anakin,” the beta greets, her voice pitched soft and soothing, as the caretakers always try to be. It would be frowned upon to cause undue stress to a newly-carrying mother, after all. “Do you know where you are?”

“A cell,” he grumbles in return. He’d been sedated even before being loaded aboard the transport that carried them away, as he has been since he grew too large to be carried comfortably; he doesn't know anything more about this new compound. Typically, he never sees more than the cell block anyways.

She nods. “Just for now, while we establish where your head is, alright? You’ll be free to go, soon enough.”

Go where, Ankin almost asks, back to the Heir’s quarters? Or perhaps to spend time among the small social groups he often saw the mated omegas in, whenever he was allowed out of his cell? Neither option sounds particularly appealing. While the communal childcare may be a bonus to those omegas, he has little interest in jumping on the bandwagon until he absolutely has to. Ideally, that won’t be until the little runt has already been born, and maybe even later than that.

Scooting closer to the nest, the beta smiles placidly at him, extending a hand into the space between them. “I need to take your vitals, if that’s alright. May I touch you?”

The question catches him off guard, nearly as much as when it finally registers that she had called him by his name. Not a number, or sweetie, or dear, or any other patronizing pet name that the other caretakers had called him over the years. Anakin, his birth name. He didn’t think any of them even knew it; he couldn’t think of a time any of them had bothered to even ask. They certainly never bothered to ask whether or not he wanted them to touch him. 

She must take his silence as acquiescence, or perhaps perhaps she thinks he can’t understand her. Whatever the reason, she leans into his space, pressing her fingers against the pulse point in his neck. It is too close, far too close to the open bonding mark that still pulses with discomfort, and Anakin tears himself away from the light touch with a low growl. The Force pulses around him with his agitation, his underlying fear, and he pushes away the gentle brush of her own mind against his. He does not want her comfort in this way, either.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, shifting back as far as he can in the nest, baring his teeth when she seems to consider reaching for him again.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” she soothes, pulling her hand away and gesturing placatingly. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

“All you people ever do is hurt me!”

His declaration seems to take her by surprise, confusion flickering across her face before a realization sparks in her eyes. Anakin is already quite certain he’s going to hate the words that are coming out of her mouth even before she says them. “Anakin,” she says, softly and simply, “you aren’t with the Cult any more. You’re safe.”

“Where am I, then?” He hisses, his words dripping with venom.

“You’re back on Coruscant.” She replies. “You’re safe, in the healing halls of the Jedi Temple.”

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (Peridot-specific: A)

There’s one of my new arts - GAverse Peridot in the house! If she looks a little taller and leggier than normal, she’s supposed to be. I find it kind of fascinating that for nearly every design deviation the canon characters in GAverse have, it’s practically a spoiler to even show it because it pretty much spells out the twist for you. But eh, it is what it is, right? 

So... these following tropes (see here for the first post for the general tropes for backstory on why the hell I did all this, and if you wanna see it in its entirety, see it on Google Docs)

Because Peridot is the actual protagonist of the GA continuity and my favorite character overall... her specific trope listing is the biggest overall. It easily towers over the general tropes I just posted. So this here’s the actual biggest hurdle. Let’s see if I can even fit A through B in this. Wow. I was fucking kidding, but nope! Adding A and B makes the links not work! Hooboy, what does that say when I’m already starting out restricted to post one letter at a time to avoid breaking the post?

I make a point not to copy+paste tropes already on her canon character page unless they’re relevant to GA specifically. I went out of my way to use the SU trope page as little as possible overall, really. So while there will be overlap, rest assured it’s there for a reason. 

So, assuming you’re that interested to see just how much I have to say about Peridot with all the headcanons made into a massive storyline, just keep in mind there’s no marked spoilers and have fun, I guess!

Peridot (Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG)

A Taste of Her Own Medicine: When Peridot tells Steven how the promotion she worked so hard to get ended up putting her in the same position as her previous victims, as she couldn’t get away with bullying or disrespecting gems above her in the caste system (which was literally almost everyone) and ended up being the one targeted for bullying due to her lowly status, Steven mentions this trope verbatim to sum up the situation.

Academic Alpha Bitch: Her Pre-Earth Homeworld persona; the Passive-Aggressive variant.

Accomplice by Inaction: Regarding Jasper’s abuse of Lapis when the pair was originally teamed up with Peridot. Considering Lapis was (albeit unwillingly) suffering Jasper’s abuse so Peridot wouldn’t have to, the fact that Peridot not only forced herself to mentally repress these moments as much as she could in order to live with herself – but actively did nothing to help Lapis even when she was witnessing the vile acts Jasper inflicted on their informant – has been one of her greatest sources of guilt and self-loathing. Peridot herself admits even when she had the means to at least offer some comfort or sympathy when Jasper wasn’t present, she refused to do it. Granted, Peridot’s inaction is largely justified; not only was Jasper’s abuse of Lapis deemed legal by Homeworld law, but Peridot herself – her kind being so low in the caste system – had no right to interfere or prevent any of this. It was actually illegal for Peridot to inconvenience a gem above her rank for any reason, and the gap between herself and Jasper was wide. This was also before Peridot’s Character Development; despite Jasper breaking her down well enough to eliminate most of Peridot’s absolute worst traits as a Homeworld gem, she was still far from being the gem who presently would have done everything in her power to fight Jasper and protect Lapis. This guilt (as well as feeling indebted to Lapis for saving her from Jasper) is the leading cause for why Peridot was such an Extreme Doormat to Lapis in canon.

Achey Scars: One of the last significant blows Peridot sustained courtesy of 9FC in Chapter 4 of Act I is a punch to the face. Since 9FC had limb enhancers, this punch left a nasty mark on Peridot’s cheek and greatly pained her (although she doesn’t realize she even has this injury, as she never sees how she looks after the No-Holds-Barred Beatdown – and her three nearly-crippled limbs are a bit more attention-grabbing). Thankfully for Peridot, it doesn’t plague her for long, as it’s the first injury Steven heals in the following chapter.

Act of True Love: The mission that plays out during the entirety of Act I is undoubtedly this. While Peridot genuinely wants to save everyone else and worries for them individually, it’s the realization that Steven is no longer with her that makes Peridot jump into the action. It’s her love for Steven that makes Peridot stay the course and see her mission through to the end, no matter how often she screws up or breaks down. Even when Peridot is struck with a persistent concern that she won’t come out of this mission alive, she’s not the least bit deterred and readily accepts death if it means Steven can live and be free. Peridot herself states that life doesn’t make sense and that everything is confusing if Steven isn’t with her, so she’s desperate to save him and bring him home where he belongs. This is an amusing case where all of The Four Loves are in play here.

Action Girl/Girlfriend: Comes with Taking a Level in Badass and becoming a Hero Protagonist. The latter trope is in effect as of Chapter 5 of Act I.

Adorkable: Per canon, and still in effect in GA. Very prevalent whenever the topic of Steven comes up, and especially when she and Steven directly interact. Peridot’s full of this when she actually spills her heart out to Steven in Chapter 5 of Act I.

Affectionate Nickname: Peri and Dot by many friends, P-Dot and Dottie-P by Amethyst, Tiny by Bismuth, Twilight by White Diamond.

Aggressive Submissive: Proves to be this in It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is. Whether or not it has anything to do with the submissive instincts that come naturally with Peridots is debatable. This is Who I Am establishes that such instincts were completely benign in Peridot’s case (likely due to emerging as an Unwitting Test Subject) until a certain Near-Rape Experience woke them up with a vengeance.

Alone with a Psycho: From the end of Act I to Chapter III of Act III, Peridot’s only company after being stranded on Homeworld was White Diamond. For six days, Peridot endured White’s wide variety of torture methods before she was rescued.

Ambition is Evil: When Peridot developed this during her life as a Homeworld gem, she became determined to achieve her goals, no matter what she had to do or who she had to hurt to succeed. This quickly made her The Dreaded of her kind. As time passed, Peridot herself became progressively more sinister and sadistic to assert her dominance.

Amnesiac Dissonance: Once Peridot and her team land on Homeworld, just seeing things Peridot is familiar with starts to abruptly jog memories of her Homeworld life that she thought she had discarded. Reuniting with 9FC made Peridot remember how horribly she treated her own kind to get ahead. This triggered a domino effect the longer the mission went on, though in some instances it was beneficial, such as when Peridot remembered what pallification was after being in close proximity to White Pearl.

Angst Nuke: Once Peridot has a moment to think after Pumpkin’s death, this happens. Deadly lasers fire from her gemstone and inadvertently causes an atmosphere-shredding wind storm that accelerates Homeworld’s destruction. Once she Involuntarily Shapeshifts into Chartreuse Diamond as she cries endlessly, the level of destruction is upped to Brown Note levels.

Armor-Piercing Question: Falls victim to this twice, both times by White Diamond. Both times, Steven is used to expose Peridot’s weak spot, which leads to the birth of Chartreuse Diamond and Celadon Diamond.

Armor-Piercing Slap: Gives one to Lapis in Chapter 8 of Act III, after Lapis invokes an Ironic Echo in reference to Pumpkin’s impending demise. She means well by it, but Peridot is too far into her Heroic BSoD to not take offense to her own words being used against her. Even when it’s justified.

The Atoner: Peridot considers herself eternally this after her redemption arc. Even after doing many good deeds, making friends, earning forgiveness, helping people, and saving Earth itself, Peridot still feels she could do more. When she regains her memories of how awful she used to be when she lived on Homeworld, Peridot doubles down on this role hard. She verbally confirms this in This is Who I Am.

Attack its Weak Point: Proposes this strategy to fight the pallified Blue Diamond. More specifically, to find its weak point with herself and her teammates scattering to the most likely place a weak point might be in hopes of striking the right spot.

Attacking Through Yourself:  When Peridot and Steven are stuck fighting each other’s dark selves in a duel to the death (where the dark/light counterparts feel each other’s pain and will perish should one side be killed), Peridot’s duel with Dark Steven quickly escalates into a scenario where Dark Steven is in the midst of choking to death – not by Peridot’s hands, but by her dark counterpart’s, who is well underway killing the Light Steven. Peridot can’t do anything to make her dark self stop this, as the two fights are separated between different dimensions. That is, there’s no way Peridot can make her counterpart stop killing Steven without inflicting damage on herself to disrupt her efforts. Unfortunately, 5XG (the Dark Peridot) retains Peridot’s lost ability to endure pain ridiculously well, so the only way Peridot has any chance of saving Steven is to inflict life-threatening levels of damage to herself. Having virtually no time to think of a better plan, Peridot goes with her instincts and uses a jagged piece of the arena’s floor tiling to lodge directly into her forehead, piercing her gemstone. This does work in forcing 5XG to release her hold on Steven – simultaneously saving both forms of him in the process – but it very nearly cost Peridot her life (and 5XG’s by proxy). Thankfully, the always-merciful Light Steven was there to quickly heal 5XG’s injury while the Dark Steven, having developed a begrudging respect for Peridot (and not wanting to be indebted to her for saving his life), also healed her injury as soon as he recovered from his life-threatening situation. With both Stevens worn down and vulnerable from nearly having their throats crushed and both Peridots too weak to actively continue fighting after sustaining deep, direct damage to their gemstones, both deathmatches ended in a No Contest, which yielded the result Light Peridot hoped to achieve: a scenario where she and Steven come out of this alive.

Ax-Crazy: In Chapter 6 of Act III, Peridot slips into this when she sees White Diamond’s neck and is immediately triggered due to the PTSD of the torture White put her through earlier in the act. Peridot ended up with a Slashed Throat from that (nonlethal considering she’s a gem, but it did shock her into unconsciousness and led to her being manipulated into ascension), so she finds herself intensely obsessed with returning the favor to White now that she has the opportunity.

[asianhappinesss]

Descendants of the Sun (2016)

Summary

A love story that develops between a surgeon and a special forces officer. Kang Mo Yeon is a pretty and assertive woman who works as a cardiothoracic surgeon at Haesung Hospital. She isn't afraid to admit her mistakes and believes that capability overrides whatever connections you have. However, she is soon faced with the reality that she cannot advance with just capability. Her life is forever changed when she encounters Yoo Shi Jin, the Captain and team leader of Alpha Team who cares more about protecting anybody in need of help as well as his country, even if it goes against the order of his superiors. This drama will tell of how they both bond together in a time of war and overcome the odds against them.

Review

This review may contain spoilers

When I think of Descendants of the Sun, the first thing that comes to mind is cheese! This show is extra cheesy, and honestly I love cheese! Unfortunately, I am also kinda lactose intolerant, so after eating a certain amount of cheese I am left with regrets, and a stomach ache. That's exactly how I felt after watching the last episode. *Cue the rage of a thousand fans* I think the biggest problem I had with this show is that it tried to mix in three genres without a coherent plot to bring it all together. It's part rom-com, part military drama, and part hospital sitcom. The love story is probably what makes most people excited about the show, the military scenes are a cool action bonus, and the hospital sitcom keeps things from getting too heavy and depressing. Unfortunately, because the script is so weak, I was too disconnected to keep caring about the show, and it started to become very boring. I kept watching for one reason only Song Joong Ki. Song Joong Ki is oddly cast in a lot of ways. He has a super baby face, and boyish charm, but still managed to be a believable bad@ss soldier. I would easily rate his character/acting 10. Not only did I develop a 16 episode crush on him, but I really cared about his assignments. The show would have been a million times more enjoyable for me if they just let his story be the center, or rather, the bromance between Shi Jin, and Dae Yeong. Their relationship was my favorite part of the show. Their characters didn't have much depth individually, but their bromance was solid. There is also great chemistry between Song Joong Ki, and Song Hye Kyo, but not much to their overall story. Every moment with them is exactly the same - they flirt, they separate, she gets mad, he's extra charming, they flirt again. Early on, I really started to dislike Dr. Kang Mo Yeon, which made it hard to sympathize with her anger at him. Eventually I started to like her a little more, but no matter how cute their flirty scenes, or how strangely amusing their brink of death dating was, their story is still repetitive, which gets old quick. The 2nd leads also had a romance, that had a few more obstacles thrown their way (parents, distance, almost dying), but was just as repetitive - fight, confess, spontaneous affection, fight. It's like each story just filled in the same blanks for each episode. It was actually the older minor characters who had the most interesting love story. I thought Seo Jeong Yeon and Lee Seung Jun were really cute, and deserve an honorable mention. The supporting cast was pretty good. Some were much better than others, and some were almost completely useless (the head of the hospital... that ditzy doctor... ugh). I had to bring the acting down to an 8 because of that, but the cast is really the only good thing this show has going for it. What was the point of this drama? At first it seemed like a way to show how hard it can be to date a soldier, but because the show didn't take itself seriously, it was hard for me to take that too seriously, even with that emotionally manipulative 15th episode. The conflicts at the hospital were ridiculous, and mostly filler.

The best episodes took place when the medical staff went overseas to Urk, but once that was over, the show seemed to have no clue what to do. Did they run out of travel budget, so they decided to just wing it for the last episodes? Even in Urk, the plot was super predictable, and totally unrealistic, but it was still very entertaining (yummy Cheese!!!).

When they returned, my feelings about the show went downhill, and I was no longer excited about watching the next episode. Then suddenly things got very serious out of nowhere, only to end with the silliest (and worst) last episode I've ever seen in any drama (yes THE worst!). I wonder if episode 15 was the original ending, and then it was changed last minute to avoid a backlash. That's the only thing I can think of as an explanation for why it was so bad. The music? meh. The scenery? epic. The english spoken? decent. The shirtless men running? Daebak. Would I rewatch? Not unless someone makes an edited version of only scenes with Song Joong Ki. Overall It's like they rolled a kdrama dice and just threw stuff in at random to get people hooked, then they just focused on all the ways they can successfully incorporate product placement. Maybe that was the real point, to see how many ads they could sneak into a drama. Even though there were moments I really enjoyed, I can't recommend this drama, especially after sitting through that ending. I wish they cut it down to 10 episodes, removing all the unnecessary fluff, and sneaky ads (subway, hyundai, make up, coffee, snacks, hiking equipments, travel apps... umm... except for the self driving car, because that scene was actually cool ) then maybe it would be a drama worthy of all the hype. Or maybe you can treat my review like lactaid. Now that you know what to expect, maybe you can better digest all the cheese this show has to offer.

[bittlebarnes]

The Path of Least Resistance 4/?

Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Summary:

“How old are you?” Percival heard himself ask absently.

“19, Mr. Graves.” Was Newt’s tight-lipped answer. He sat down on one of the ornate couches and thanked the house elf who had appeared with a tea set.

“You don't have to call me ‘Mr. Graves’. If we're to be married, I imagine you’ll be using my given name quite a bit.”

“And are we? To be married I mean?” -- After his expulsion from Hogwarts, Newt tries to regain his family's favor by entering an arranged marriage.

“Mr. Graves is liking you to know he won't be home tonight,” Wendi appears at Newt's side, a consternated look on her little face.

“Thank you, Wendi,” Newt smiles at her before going back to his book. It's been two weeks since Percival returned to work and he's been diligent about keeping Newt in the loop. If he's going to be late he either sends Wendi or a note to let Newt know not to worry and an apology for missing dinner.

It's different. It’s...nice. He lets his mind wander to a future where he and Percival could be something. Something more than what they are now.

Newt wonders, however, if this goodwill between them can last. Percival is, more than most, a creature of habit, Newt thinks. This recent behavior is anomalous due to stress and changes in his environment but creatures always return to their true natures once they’ve settled. He twists the ring on his finger and tries to remind himself where he stands in their relationship.

No matter how much Newt wants things to stay just the way they are.

--

"You know I don't want to burden you, Newt, but really. You simply must snap out of this funk you’re in.” Theseus had come to America to visit. A show of goodwill, he’d said, that the Ministry and MACUSA are getting along just fine. The war is over. He was staying with Newt and Percival in their home in the city. Newt tried to welcome his brother but the man spent most of his free time with Percival in meetings. Any time alone with Newt was filled with unwanted advice and pitying looks.

“I’m not in a funk.” Newt pulled his feet up onto the chaise and sighed knowingly. This was a conversation they’d had many times. “I’ve told you, Percival and I aren’t there yet. I’m only 21, Theseus. There’s plenty of time for children. When would Percival even see them anyway? He’s as busy as you are.”

“Newt, you know it’s not the same.”

Newt did know. Plenty of Omegas his age are already on their second or third pregnancies. Many of Percival’s contemporaries already had large families. Theseus’ new wife was expecting and they’d only been married six months. Suddenly, Newt’s empty nest was starting to look a certain way.

“What do you want from me? I didn't ask to come here, Theseus. This wasn’t my decision. You can’t foist me off on a strange Alpha on the other side of the world and just expect me to lay up and bear his children. You know this isn’t the life I wanted.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but he wobbles near the end, still a frightened boy at heart.

“No,” Theseus agreed. There was a sympathy in his voice that Newt hadn’t expected. Not many were sympathetic towards him, simply disdainful. “But Newt, you must understand and accept that it’s the life you have. You can make the best of it. Now, has Percival been unkind to you.”

“Define unkind.”

“Newt.” Theseus groaned. “I just want what’s best for you. You’re still young and handsome and that’s gotten you this far.” Theseus sat down at the foot of the chaise and held Newt’s gaze. “It’s gotten you and Alpha who’s wealthy and who’s willing to let you work but you must understand that there’s a cost, Newt. And I don’t want the worst to happen.”

“Of course. We shan’t embarrass the family again, right?” Newt snorted, “father would see me institutionalized before he allowed a divorce. Perhaps that's what he’s wanted all along.”

Theseus groaned at the accusation. “Don’t say that. Father loves you very much. He was very concerned about you moving so far away from us but allowed it because of Percival’s character. And a divorce isn’t the worst thing that could happen to you. If you aren't careful, you could wind up with another Omega living here.”

Something vile and poisonous curled in Newt’s stomach at the thought. It was vicious and instinctual and set his teeth on edge.

“Percival would never,” He snapped.

“It’s more common than you think. He’s got the status,” Theseus warned. Newt knew it wasn’t unheard of at all for alphas of a certain prestige to marry a second omega to help carry on their lines.

“He wouldn't do that to me,” He asserted still, certain, “I have every intention of delivering him an heir so it won’t be a problem.”

Theseus didn’t look convinced but nodded all the same.

“I just worry about you, little brother. I know this has been hard on you but you’re so strong, Newt.” Theseus took his hand then and squeezed. It was a rare show of affection, one that almost startled Newt. “You must guard yourself. Don’t give Percival a reason to make your life more difficult.”

For a moment, Newt wondered if Percival had divulged something to Theseus. Something that would worry Theseus about his future.

But Percival had made promises and, if anything, Newt trusted him to keep his word. He was safe with Percival. He always would be.

--

Newt makes the decision on a whim. If he wants this thing between he and Percival, this peace, between them to last, he may have to leave his comfort zone. It’s frightening but cowardice would leave them back where they started.

Or worse.

It’s this sudden spike of bravery that has him packing up the meal Wendi made and apparating to the Woolworth building. Percival’s thrown himself back into his work with a fervor but his health still worries Newt.

He knows his way to Percival’s office this time and bypasses Auror Goldstein’s office despite her double take.

When he finds himself outside of Percival’s door, the dread returns. This was a terrible idea.

“He’s in there.” He hears a voice behind him say. It’s a witch, pretty and blonde. “He’s been in there all day so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see a friendly face. You don’t have to worry.” She tosses him a wink and pats him on the shoulder before leaving.

It’s weird but it does make him feel better. Even if Percival is angry, he’ll just go home and eat alone like normal.

He knocks.

The door swings open on its own, Percival not even looking up from his desk.

“Yes?” He sounds irritated.

"Percival?” Percival’s head snaps up, a shocked look on his face.

“Newt? What are you doing here? Surely not another class trip.”  

“No. I actually bro-brought you dinner. Wendi cooked so you don't have to worry.” Newt says in a rush. Percival’s eyes finally hone in on the basket in Newt’s grasp.

“Oh, Newt,” He says, his voice soft,  “thank you.” He stashes his pen before getting up from his desk. He gestures for Newt to sit down on the couch before joining him.

“I'm sorry if I interrupted.” Newt sets the basket between them and begins fishing things out.

“No. I needed the distraction." Percival accepts an offered napkin.

Newt doesn't know what to say. He and Percival rarely shared conversations over meals when they were at home let alone in the man’s office. Percival was rarely home early enough to attend meals and if he did, Newt usually ignored him in favor of grading papers. If they did speak, the topics proved to be mostly surface level in nature.

“Things are going well? With you being back in the office?” He ventures. It’s a poor opening but he hopes Percival appreciates the effort.

“Hm? I wouldn't say well but they're going. It’s been more frustrating than anything.” He stops to chew and silence laps over them again.

Finally, Percival looks up at him, his brows furrowed. It looks almost as if he’s seeing Newt for the first time.

“Newt, you’re a magizoologist.”

“Um, yes. I am.” Where in the world could this go?

“Do you know what an Obscurus is?”

That’s...not what Newt expected.

“Of course. I teach a section on them in my class. It’s the manifestation of the repressed energy within all magical children. For one to be created, the child would have to endure extreme abuse. They’re quite fascinating. I’ve never encountered one in real life but the man who previously held my position told some very intense stories.”

Percival looks more enraptured than Newt’s ever seen him in a conversation about creatures. Something’s wrong.

“Why are you interested in Obscurials? You’re not, you’re not pursuing one are you, Percival?” While Newt has always believed in field experience, he always cautioned his students. The textbooks weren’t always right and caution needed to be exercised.

“It’s an open case, Newt. I’m afraid I can’t divulge the details. Just...I might have more questions.”

That’s concerning.

They finish their meal and Newt tries to put the anxiety from his him.

He is not successful.

--

Newt decides to spend his day off catching up on some reading. There’s an article on mooncalves he’s been dying to dive into but student work has really been taking its toll. Percival's supposed to stop in for lunch and Newt is surprised at himself: he’s actually excited. Thirty minutes before Percival is set to arrive, he gets cleaned up. He fixes his hair and picks out one of his better shirts to wear.

Wendi sets out a nice lunch tray for them and actually smiles at Newt. It's just a day of surprises.  He grins when he hears the front door open and goes to greet his husband.

“Newt! Good, you're home.” Percival's smile is exhausted but there nonetheless. It’s who’s with him that drowns out Newt's sudden goodwill. “This is Credence. He's going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” future.”  Percival's smile still hasn't faltered even though Newt swears the room is suddenly 20 degrees cooler.

Underneath the sour smell of unrealized magic is an unmistakable sweetness. Percival's brought another Omega into their home. Newt wants to shred him.

He never thought Percival would take it this far, that Theseus could possibly be right. The humiliation.

His recent kindness? The ground they’d gained in their marriage? Had it all been for show? For this boy?

Something must show on his face because Percival clears his throat and calls, “Wendi? Will you please take Credence upstairs to help him get settled? I think I need to speak with Newt alone.”

“Of course, Mr. Graves. You is following Wendi now?” the boy looks mystified at the little elf but follows her dutifully. He quietly shuffles past Newt without meeting his eyes.

As well he shouldn't, Newt thinks venomously.

“I'm sorry I didn't let you know I'd be late. Dealing with Credence’s situation has been tricky, to say the least. It took a lot to get clearance for him to stay with us.” He hangs up his coat and loosens his tie. “Hopefully things won't be this way for long.”

“And how do you expect them to be?” Newt asks thickly. Does he still have a place here? Or will Percival want him foisted off somewhere else? That's not uncommon either. Divorce is embarrassing for all involved. Better to ship him off to the country or worse, back to his parents.

“Easier?”

“‘Easier.’” The word doesn’t even feel right echoed on Newt’s tongue, “if you think I'm going to just-just allow this, you are mistaken.”

Percival looks taken aback.

“Newt, Credence needs-”

“I don’t really care what he needs. I won’t have a second in this house. You don't need one. I haven't asked you for much but I won’t entertain a harem.”

“A harem?” Percival's voice is reaching an uncomfortable pitch. “Wait, a second. You think-Credence is not going to be a second omega.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Because needs my help! He's part of the case I'm working! Mercy Lewis, Newt!” Percival looks more taken aback then Newt’s ever seen him. You think so little of me? That I would just parade another Omega into our home? Your home? Newt-"

“I heard your mother talking. She's been looking for a new omega for you for months. Ever since you told her you didn't want me anymore."

The silence between them is deafening. Newt feels his chest heave and wonders where the sudden burst of anger came from. Percival goes pale but doesn't deny the accusation. He can't.

“That wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.” He says finally, his voice quiet.

“But I did. And now you've kept your word.” The anguish Newt feels is unexpected. It sits like acid at the base of his spine. Newt feels awful, like an absolute failure. “I think I'm going to vomit,” he says.

Percival takes him by the arm and guides him to the kitchen. Newt takes a seat while Perical gets him a glass of water.

He tries not to cry.

Percival sets the glass on the table next to him.

Newt wipes his eyes tiredly.

“If you want me to move Credence-”

“It’s fine. You said he’s a guest, then that’s that.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but it comes out harsh nonetheless. “This is your home.”

Percival doesn’t flinch per say but his composure slips, just for a second. There’s a crack in his carefully cultivated facade that Newt hasn’t seen before.

“It’s-it’s your home too, Newt,” He says quietly, “It’s our home.”

Newt fights the sudden urge to snort. “I’ve been derelict in my marital duties. Theseus warned me this would happen.”

“Warned you of what? That I’d bring a second omega into our home?”

“Because I haven’t given you an heir. You want someone you desire.” It’s a crushing admission, one Newt has always feared. He had gone to Percival once at the beginning of their marriage, ready to do his duty, only to be summarily rejected. He’d never tried again.

Percival’s sigh is heavy as he sits down next to Newt.

“Newt...I don’t think I’ve done any of this right,” he tucks a loose curl behind Newt’s ear before cupping his cheek, “but understand this, it is never my intention to disrespect you or your position in our home. I swore you a life of contentment and it would appear I’ve broken my promise.”

“Percival…”

“But maybe this is where we get the chance to start over. When I was with Grindelwald,” he shudders and Newt wants so much to comfort him, “I knew I was going to die. I wanted to at some points. I knew you would never come for me."

“You thought I would abandon you?”

“No,  I just didn't think I'd given you reason enough to care.” Percival huffs another sigh, “but you came anyway. You came and you saved my life.”

The urge to cry is suddenly back. Newt doesn't like to think about how close Percival came to death.  “I knew something was wrong. I should have come for you so much sooner, Percival.”

“There was nothing more you could have done and I don’t blame you for staying away. I know that you care. I just hope you know that I care for you as well.” Percival’s voice is so gentle that Newt has to fight the urge to curl into him.

It's not love.

But, then again, Newt didn’t marry Percival for love.

“I will never intentionally hurt you,” Percival says and Newt knows it’s a promise, “regardless of whether we have children. I’ll never have a need for a second.” He presses a the softest of kisses to the crown of Newt’s head and Newt breaks. He curls into Percival’s shoulder and finally exhales.

[jerseydeanne]

Roseberrycupcake~Friends What kind of friend are you?

I always found it interesting how modern culture places so much emphasis on friendships. Long gone are the days of Full House and Boy Meets World, where unconditional love and family values were emphasized. Nowadays, you can’t miss themes of “Best-Friends-Forever-Who-Talk-And-Share-Everything” and “Friends-Turned-Lovers-Turned-Exes-Turned-Coworkers” in the screens. I guess some of it is a sad reflection of fractured families so common in our society today. Because the illusion of “perfect family” has been broken, it’s socially acceptable to create pseudo-family dynamics with friends rather than work things out with your real family. Obviously, having friends is not a bad thing; but depending on the people you befriend, your friendships can have dire consequences.  

We know true friends are those who celebrate you when you’re high and comfort you when you’re low. It’s easy to label only those who abandon you in times of trouble as users; but people who become jealous of your success and want you to remain stagnant are false friends as well. Good times as well as bad times will test friendships and reveal true friends. Throughout the years, I had to weed out several dishonest acquaintances, and I thought I would share the categories of so-called “friends” I’ve had.

1. Honeysuckles: These are your classic “I’ll tell you what you want to hear as long as you have what I want” kind of people. I call them Honeysuckles, because in botany, flowers of honeysuckles have a sweet edible nectar while the rest of the plant are poisonous. They are very comforting and very accommodating friends to have–as long as you have what they want. Honeysuckles tend to target nice, easy-going people; so although it’s easy to think that they’ll be uncovered quickly, it actually takes some time, because if you’re a genuinely kind person, you see yourself in a lot of characters they express. If the qualities they’re after are temporary, you can simply pretend to have lost them to test their loyalty; however, if the qualities they’re after are concrete, such as jobs, financial status, family names, etc., it can get especially difficult to weed them out . But there IS a question you can ask yourself to distinguish Honeysuckles from genuine friends: are they telling you what you WANT to hear instead of what you NEED to hear? Allow me to illustrate using an embarrassing personal example:

At almost 5'5’’ and 120 lbs, I’m well aware that I’m not “fat”; however, like most young women who experienced the horrors of the “Freshmen 15,” my weight fluctuated over the years. During the college years, I was in a relationship with a man who was after my financial prospects (sadly, this was not an assumption on my part; he literally told me this to my face). He shared my secret love for junk foods, and we ate out nearly every single day; unsurprisingly, my weight ballooned. My family took notice and advised me to keep my weight in check. So did my closest friends. But between classes and blooming romance, I was too sleep deprived to even consider modifying my schedule to accommodate exercise. My boyfriend’s response to this conundrum was quite appealing: he showered me with assertions that I’m beautiful just the way I am and that I’m not fat. He told me how I shouldn’t lose weight, and how much he loves my curves. Of course, being the love-struck idiot I was, I took his word for it over my family’s and friends’, because after all, it’s my man’s opinion that matters, right? So you can imagine how I felt when I found a staggering number of pictures of scantily-clad girls on his phone AND came across his secret Facebook account with “ex”-girlfriends who were not-so-surprisingly skinny as a rake. Ironically, even though that relationship ended quite some time ago, the line “No, you’re not fat. You’re beautiful.” has firmly been established in my heart as a hit-line frequented by men who eventually are uncovered as users. Now, I tend to keep my guard up whenever someone comments on my appearance; and funnily enough, it kept me safe from quite a few dishonest men.

My point is this: Honeysuckles will appeal to your ego. Sometimes, we’re stuck in situations that are harmful to our pride. During these times, it’s much easier to bury your head in the sand, and Honeysuckles will gladly encourage this self-protective behavior. Deep down, you’re very much aware of the reality; you just don’t want to face it. If your acquaintances are keeping you blind and deaf, they’re not “protecting” you; on the contrary, they’re keeping you from fixing the situation when it’s actually manageable. If you didn’t have the ability to face the situation, God would have never allowed it in the first place. So whether it’s exercising or admitting to a mistake, cut the Honeysuckles out of your life and do the right thing you know you can. 

2. Dead weights: These are people who are willing to comfort you and befriend you–as long as you stay at their level. I call them dead weights, because the minute you start advancing, they start dragging you down. It’s not just that they’re unwilling to make progress in their own life due to sheer laziness; it’s more so that they (unconsciously or consciously) recognize your potential and want to keep you from fully spreading your wings, because they know they would be a no match for you once you realize your true potential. They’re the people who tempt you with a distraction when you know you have work to do. These temptations seem innocent at first, but they may mount up to a large trap if you’re not careful. In fact, Psalm 1:1-3 tells us that “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers.” When I was a child, my mother used to explain this scripture as a series of steps people fall into sin: they first walk, then they stand, then they sit; notice how they don’t sit down among the evil men right away; evil is much subtle than that. Same thing with dead weights. They don’t seem to drag you down much at first, but by the time you realize the effect they had on you, you find yourself fallen behind others by far. 

When I say “fallen behind,” I’m not talking about an abstract scale others have set out. I’m not talking about milestones you allowed others to convince you that you should have achieved by a certain age i.e. find a job by 25, find your soulmate by 28, get married by 30, have children by 33, etc. I’m talking about a much more personal scale. These are spiritual milestones we should have accomplished based on our experience, not necessarily our age. For instance, if you think you’re ready to consummate a relationship, you should understand the responsibilities that could follow the potential results. If you think you’re ready to get married, you should understand that love is all about gratitude and self-sacrifice. If you think you’re ready to have children, you should understand that some things will have to take a back seat now. The problem with dead weights is that they prevent us from achieving spiritual milestones before performing such deeds. 

So for example, a friend of yours might persuade you to have a light fling with any willing man or a woman; but morally speaking, you should have respected the other party regardless of their intention and refrained from partaking in such activities. It doesn’t matter if THEY were looking for a good time with no strings attached. YOU should have refrained from using them as a means to relieve sexual frustrations. Others may have found their future spouse through one night stands, but unless that’s the way YOU dreamed of finding your soulmate, you know you’re wasting your valuable time. There’s no such thing as a no-strings-attached sex. There may have been no money involved, no numbers exchanged, no names spoken, but there are always emotions involved. No, I’m not talking about emotions TOWARD that particular sexual partner. I’m talking about emotions in general. You may be sleeping with that person to forget someone else on your mind or to get rid of the loneliness you feel deep in your heart. The problem with these one night stands is that you’re burying these emotions under post-coital bliss and expecting them to go away instead of facing up to a challenge and resolving it either by discussion with the person in your mind or with God. 

Whether it’s a one night stand or a harmless drink, this friend who’s willing to tempt you with a good time may have meant well, but in the end, he or she is just leading you toward a road further from the one best for you. Even though it may be difficult, it’s best for you to distance yourself from them and move on. You can either sink with them or fly without them; it may seem harsh, but I learned the hard way that even if YOU’re willing to sink with them, they are the sort of people who will cut losses if THEY think they’re going to sink with you. They may have been the ones who tempted you, but they won’t be the ones who hold responsibilities for YOUR decision no matter how coerced.  So don’t waste your precious time with people like them. If they were truly good friends, you wouldn’t have to compromise your morals and values in the first place. 

3. Economists: These are people who abuse the simple nugget of truth that the people who have best interest at your heart will not always tell you what you want to hear. I like to call them Economists, because they play by the supply and demand curves. By keeping their support to bare minimum, they give an impression that they’re objective and make their praise valuable. So when they criticize, they come across as having your best interest at heart; and by keeping their praise rare, you feel elated when they DO give you their approval. Economists are not the typical Alpha males who lead the crowd; they are the Betas sitting in a chair in the back of the room with their arms crossed, making a jabbing comment once-in-a-while. Their power lay in their subtlety. Even though gentle souls are more likely to be swayed by sweet Honeysuckles than cynical Economists, rare approvals from Economists will always seem more valuable than ever-present praise from Honeysuckles. 

If you’re a lovely soul who easily feels responsible to keep others happy, Economists are the ones who will take advantage of your kindness. In order to appease them, you may feel coerced to accommodate your schedule to suit their needs or follow their ideas. In my personal opinion, they are the worst of the lot, because with other types of false friends, you at least get something during the relationships: with Honeysuckles, you get praise, and with dead weights, you get good times; but with Economists, all they do is drain your soul. Under the guise of an “objective friend who tells it like it is,” they make subtle and not-so-subtle comments that belittle you. When you go to them for an advice, you come out feeling worse: and this feeling is a way you can distinguish Economists from friends who genuinely has your best interest at heart. A true friend will NEVER make you feel worse after talking to them. Even if YOU’re the one who made a mistake, a real friend will be there to console you and remind you that you’re still a good person; they will focus on YOU instead of the problem at hand; however, an Economist will magnify the problem. He or she will make the problem a reflection of your character instead of a mistake. 

At the end of the day, both you and the Economist are just humans. If God loves you and God doesn’t condemn you, that mere mortal certainly has no right to make you feel like you’re worth any less than anyone else out there. Judge your actions by all means, but there are ways to critique someone else’s actions without belittling their worth. These gentle methods of communications aren’t something that can be taught or learnt; they are things that come naturally between true friends. So if you have any friends who make you feel worse at the end of a conversation, cut them lose. Let them find another victim to suck the light out of. Your light deserves to shine in front of the world. You deserve better friends than them.    

My purpose in writing this long post was simple. You don’t have to THINK through the pros and cons of an acquaintance to decide whether you should remain friends with them. Let their words, events, and your gut reactions speak for themselves. You won’t have to impress your real friends. They won’t be ashamed of you at your worst moments because they know of your true value. They will be able to pick up on your mistakes, but you won’t feel down when they point it out. You’ll feel confident that you can become a better person by learning from them instead. At the same time, they will be the ones who truly celebrate your success and are prouder of your accomplishments than you are. If you realize that you have no friends left over who fit such criteria after you reflect on these words, don’t worry. Like I said in my last submission, Jesus is always your friend. Even at your loneliest moments, He is there giving you a comforting pat on the back, telling you that it’s OK, that you’re OK. So you will be perfectly all right even if you let go of those false friends. It will all work out, I promise. 

I really enjoyed reading this, sometimes we can get sucked in and can’t find our way out. This is a very positive message in our instant gratification world.

Thank you roseberrycupake 

[deanwinchesterpityparty32]

Pinkie Promise- Chapter 4: It’s Time

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13614066/chapters/31394811

        The following month, exactly in the middle of the summer holiday, Remus Lupin began packing his suitcase in his study. It was approaching evening on the night of the full moon, and for the first time since he was a school boy, Remus was afraid for someone other than himself. He latched the suitcase and turned to find his husband standing in the doorway.

         “You’re leaving?” Sirius asked, unsurprised and extremely unimpressed.

         “You know I have to,” Remus replied, his voice shaking. “I’m a monster, Sirius. I cursed my daughter to the same life I’ve had to lead.”

         Sirius nodded, lighting a new fire of panic in Remus’ chest. “You have,” Sirius agreed, “but you didn’t do it at the last full. You didn’t do it when you bit her. You’re doing it now.” Sirius’ voice was a low growl as he approached Remus and seized the suitcase.

          “Sirius, I— “

          “Don’t start, Remus. Your twelve-year old daughter saw you packing and ran to her room. She’s crying her eyes out because she thinks that you-“ and Sirius shoved Remus’ shoulder- “hate her now.”

         “No!” Remus protested, glancing in the direction of Lincoln’s room.

         “Yes,” Sirius confirmed. “Do you know what she said to me, Remus? She said, ‘Papa, Daddy’s leaving. He hates me, he doesn’t want me now that I’m ruined. I thought he’d still love me, because he’s like me, but he’s leaving.’ And she wouldn’t even let me hold her because she’s afraid to hurt me.” Sirius’ grey eyes burned with rage. “If you go, Remus, you are dooming Lincoln to the same childhood of fear and doubt and self-loathing that you had to live through. If you can live with that, then fucking go,” he snarled, shoving Remus’ suitcase into his chest, “but don’t you ever come back. You could stay, you could help Lincoln through her transformations, since she’s too young and too small to take the wolfsbane potion. But if you’d rather run away, then do it, Remus, and stay gone.”

         “Sirius, what if I hurt her again?” Remus demanded loudly.

         “You can’t!” Sirius shouted back. “You bloody idiot, you can’t! Lincoln… I couldn’t stop her from coming out into those woods. I didn’t… didn’t catch her in time,” Sirius sobbed, the noise ripping from his chest. “You don’t get to leave us, Remus, because I don’t know how to make this easier for her!”

        Remus dropped the suitcase and pulled Sirius close, letting him sob against his chest. “You couldn’t have stopped her, Sirius. And you couldn’t have stopped me. It’s just a miracle you and James kept me from killing her.” He ran his hand through Sirius’ thick, shoulder-length hair, certain that there was more grey in the ebony hair than was there a month ago. Remus sighed heavily. “This isn’t your fault, Sirius. But you’re right, I don’t get to just leave. I need to go talk to Lincoln. Will you bring some blankets down to the cellar?”

        “We can’t-“

        “We have to, Sirius. She will hurt somebody if we don’t. Bring the blankets down to the cellar, take the kids to Lily’s, and then come back with James.” Remus’ voice was finally firm, no longer shaking or unsure.

        Sirius nodded and left, and Remus went to Lincoln’s room. He could hear her barely-stifled sobs. He knocked gently and called, “Lincoln, may I come in?”

        There was no answer, so Remus went into the room. Lincoln was sitting cross legged on her bed, staring out the window. “I owe you an apology. Well, about a thousand, actually,” Remus amended, wincing. “But I never meant to make you feel as if I don’t love you anymore.”

         “But you don’t,” Lincoln flung back. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

         Remus sighed and sat next to her. “Look at me, darling,” he urged. When she did, her eyes were no longer green like they’d been all her life, but the same amber-yellow as his own. “I’m not leaving. I was going to, because I let my fear of hurting you or Micah or Cassi take over. But your papa talked some sense into me. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

        “You’re not leaving? You don’t hate me?” Lincoln asked in a small voice.

         “Of course not, darling,” Remus assured her. Before he could continue, Lincoln launched herself into his arms, sobbing. “It’s okay,” Remus murmured, tucking her head under his chin and slowly rocking her. “I’ve got you.”

         “Daddy, I’m scared,” Lincoln sobbed into Remus’ sweater. “Is it going to hurt?”

          Remus blinked back tears. “Yes, Lincoln. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt a lot. But Papa and I will be with you, and we’ll keep you as safe as we can. We’ll do our best to keep you from hurting yourself too much.”

          Lincoln glanced up at him. “Am I gonna have scars like you?” she asked. She had stopped crying when she learned that Remus and Sirius would stay with her.

         “Most likely, yes. I’m sor-“

          “Good.” Lincoln nodded resolutely. Remus gaped at her. “That’s good. I don’t want to hide this, I don’t want to run from it. I’m gonna be brave and honest like you, Daddy.”

         “Lincoln, I’m… I am so sorry. You can’t take wolfsbane yet, not till you’re seventeen. It could kill you if you tried to now. So we have to…” Remus trailed off, unable to say the words.

         “The cellar?” Lincoln guessed. When Remus nodded, she asked, “You’ll still take the potion, right? Uncle Prongs can’t fit in that cellar, and two werewolves would probably be more than Papa could handle.”

         Remus nodded. “Uncle Prongs will stand guard outside the cellar in case anything goes wrong. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

         “Pinkie promise?” Lincoln asked in a small voice, her little finger outstretched.

         Remus linked his little finger with Lincoln’s. “Pinkie promise. Now come on, love. It’s time.”

         Remus stopped in his study to take the wolfsbane potion, then took Lincoln’s hand and led her downstairs. James and Sirius were just stepping out of the fireplace.

         “Hey, Linc, how are you holding up?” James asked, concern in his voice that he was trying to cover with casualness.

         “Ask me that in about-“ Lincoln looked out the window- “ten hours, when this bullshit is over.”

         James laughed. “Sorry, she’s funny!” he protested when Sirius hit him.

         “Glad you think so, Uncle Prongs,” Lincoln deadpanned, indicating Remus’ death grip on her shoulder.

         “You’re hilarious, Lincoln,” Sirius assured her. “Your dad’s just starting to feel the moon.” And he pointed to the dark sky.

         “Come on, love. It’s going to start soon.” Remus steered Lincoln outside, to the cellar.

         “Dad, my clothes, they’ll rip,” Lincoln said.

         “Just take them off. See, Papa brought blankets we can cover up in until we change,” Remus told her gently.

         The cellar was no longer the cold, dank room Remus remembered from his childhood. When James closed the doors behind them with a call of, “Good luck, Moonslet,” Sirius lit the candles he’d brought down with a wave of his wand. The soft glow revealed a relatively clean room with a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle. Sirius changed into the shaggy black dog, and Remus turned to give his daughter privacy as she undressed.

         When Lincoln was sitting on a pillow and waiting for the moon to come, Sirius brought over the softest blanket, draping it over her shoulder. “Thanks, Papa,” she said, then turned to Remus. “Daddy, I think… I think I can feel it coming.”

          Remus nodded. “You feel the itch? Look, the hair is coming first. Trust me, it’ll… well it’ll be over soon.”

          Sirius whined and nuzzled Lincoln’s cheek, trying to comfort her.

          Remus watched, barely noticing his own transformation, as Lincoln’s bones rearranged, cracking and snapping sickeningly. He kept waiting for her to cry out with the pain—indeed, he had done so every transformation until he was nineteen—but she never did. Several long moments passed, and a small wolf with impossibly long limbs and sandy fur stood in Lincoln’s place. The wolf sniffed the air, searching for the scent of human prey, and howling her rage when she didn’t find it.

          Sirius barked sharply and Remus growled a warning to him. Sirius took a playful stance, hoping to bring some fun to his daughter’s fear, but the wolf had taken over Lincoln, and wasn’t interested in playing. She took to pacing, biting and scratching at herself all the while. She spotted the crack of moonlight coming from the cellar door and loped over to the door, scratching at it and whining.

          Remus snarled sharply at her, shoving her away from the door and growling. He asserted himself as the alpha easily. The young wolf recognized his scent; this was her father, her maker, and the dog was familiar too. But she wanted blood and meat and there was none to be found. Frustrated, she returned to taking out her destructive energy on herself. Sirius whined again and Remus snapped his teeth at her, but she paid them no mind.

          Hours later, the she-wolf had exhausted herself. She was bleeding from three nasty cuts on what would become her left forearm, but she was asleep in the nest of blankets with Sirius curled protectively around her.

          Remus watched them sleep, feeling an unexpected burst of affection for the two of them, as well as a glimpse of hope. Without a doubt, this would make Lincoln’s life immeasurably more difficult. But for now, while he and Sirius could protect her, perhaps it wouldn’t be as difficult for her as it had been for Remus as a child.

           Around 4:30 in the morning, Remus and Lincoln both woke from their slumbers to change back to human, and Lincoln was barely back into her jeans and tank top before Remus had pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head.

           “You did so well, Lincoln,” he murmured into her sandy hair. “You did so, so well.”

           “’M thirsty,” she croaked. Remus chuckled and found the water bottles in the bag Sirius had brought down.

           “How do you feel?” Remus asked as Lincoln drank quickly.

           Lincoln tore herself from the water, gasping. She made to speak, but instead, turned and was sick on the floor. “That about sums it up,” she quipped. Then she leaned heavily on Remus’ arm.

           “That’s normal, love. Here, lie down with Papa. I’ll heal your arm and bandage it, you go to sleep.”

           Lincoln lie back down, pillowing her head on Sirius’ furry side. “It’s going to scar. Daddy, is it always going to be like this?”

           “Yes, Lincoln. I’m so sorry.”

           “Daddy, it was my fault.”

           Remus looked up from bandaging Lincoln’s arm. “Darling, don’t say that.”

           “No, Dad, I… I wanted to see what you were like as a wolf. And I knew that you were out of wolfsbane, because Micah and I knocked the bottle over when we were playing. I thought if I stayed in the tree, you wouldn’t be able to smell me, so I took Uncle Prongs’ broom and I flew over here from his house…”

           “Lincoln, I know,” Remus said gently, and finished with the bandage. “I know. It’s alright. I’m not angry, and Papa’s not angry with you, either. Go to sleep, baby girl. Things will look much better in the morning.”

           Lincoln fell asleep almost instantly, and Remus curled around her and Sirius, pulling a blanket up to cover them.