#olive turns 27

[olivesjaw]

[anqarfamily]

My campaign has been Verified and Vetted, and is now listed on the :

🌟Gaza Donations [On The List Of Fundraisers] that have been verified by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi at line number 264.

🌟Butterfly Effect project at line number 741.

And Verify & Share by :

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From the Ashes of War: A Father’s Cry for His Children’s Future ❤️‍🩹

Imagine watching your children’s future slip away before your eyes, while their present is caught between death and injury. 💔

In a world full of painful stories, our story in Gaza is one that bleeds and cannot be ignored. I had previously started sharing our pain and hopes through my Tumblr account, where I found in you a support that eased the harshness of the days. But now, that account has been closed for reasons I cannot understand, deepening my sense of isolation in this dark world. 😞

I am Ahmed, an ordinary man whose responsibilities have become heavier than any human heart can bear. A father of five young children who look to me every day with eyes filled with fear and hope, and a husband to a woman who has proven to be a source of patience and strength in every moment. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

This war has destroyed everything. We lost our home, our dreams, and even the simplest rights to live in peace. I once dreamed of seeing my children grow up in a safe environment, but that dream shatters day by day. 💔

The war no longer affects just our present. Our memories have been erased, every beautiful moment destroyed, and our past scattered among the ruins of homes and shattered recollections. 😢 Our present is drowning in blood and destruction, a never-ending war that follows us every second and in every place. And the future? It’s unknown, terrifying, and we have no idea what it holds for us. 😔

Every day we live here is a battle for survival. We face terror, hunger, and fear of a future we cannot predict. We hoped to find refuge, a place where we could feel safe, but even that has become unattainable. 🏚️

I have returned now with a new account and a new plea to everyone reading my words. I have no other place to turn but to your words and support. 🙏 Every share of my campaign, every financial contribution, means that I am one step closer to saving my family from this hell. I don’t ask for much. I only ask for hope – hope that my children will see a day without fear, that they will live a dignified life, and that they will find a place in this world far from the sounds of bombs and destruction. 🌱

Help me raise my voice and the voice of everyone in Gaza. We need you. 🌍 The campaign link is in the bio. Even the smallest step can make a huge difference.

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Help me achieve this simple dream. Please, don’t leave us to face this fate alone. 🌟

If you're unable to donate, even a small amount, I kindly ask that you reblog & share this post with your friends so our message can reach the world.

[natriae]

ive been thinking 🤔🤔 how did you and Dilf!Toshi meet?

cw// 14 year age gap (26 & 40), y/n had a silly little celebrity crush, fluff, no smut

"come on," your friend whined while the bouncer gave you two weird looks. Recently your friend's asshole ex boyfriend finally decided to cut things off leaving you to deal with the mess left behind. She wanted absolutely nothing more than to get completely wasted and go home with a stranger.

Being the supportive friend you are you went along to keep her safe. However, now you're wishing you hadn't. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and drunk adults it was getting on your nerves. Sitting at the bar you kept your eye on your friend as she danced with several men. Not noticing the large body that sat next to you.

"are you okay?" a deep voice rang out. What caught you off guard was how it barley had any tone too it. No one is that serious at a bar. Turning to you right you watch as the olive haired man takes a sip of his drink. His hair geled back and top three buttons of his shirt undone. His biceps pulling at the fabric of his sleeves as his arm flexes. You've seen this man before just not quite sure where.

"sorry," he interrupts and bows his body in his chair, "Ushijima Wakatoshi."

You eyes widened as you realized who's in front of you. How couldn't you have noticed. In response you respectfully bow back at the older man. The alcohol that was in your body immediately fading away.

"are you alright?" he asks again, face unmoving.

"i'm okay," you respond, face flushed. Feeling embarrassed remembering how in middle school you and your friends would gawk over the Olympic players. Instantly remembering countless nights looking up photos and videos of the then 27 year old man and giggling over his handsomeness. He's gotta at least be in his forties now you thought.

You watch as he waves his hand at the bartender, "two Manhattans," he casually asks handing over a black card to pay for the drinks. Still in shock your brain can barely process what's happening let alone speak.

Before you can thank him for the drink an arm lands on your shoulder pulling you out of your daze. "hey, sexy wanna come with me?" the man asks winking at you.

"hands off," the wing spiker commands, "she uncomfortable" he adds standing up. The strangers facade clearly switches up noticing the size difference between them. Ushijima's aura alone is enough to scare someone away, but with the way his eyes squint and his thick eyebrows drawing down in disgust you're not surprised the man scoffs and walks away.

"Are you alone?" the frowning man asks crossing his arms. Seemingly squaring himself to guard you.

You try to look around his body to find your friend, but his body covers more ground than you'd think. "yeah but..." your phone lights up at a new notification. Your friend seemingly found her prey for the night and sends a photo, "nevermind she left with someone," you solemnly tell him.

"come with me," he states, dropping cash on the bar as a tip. Before you could respond he's dragging you out of the bar into the dark streets of Tokyo.

"ow," you hiss when his grip gets to strong. His body quickly stops and attentively checks your body before realizing he's the one that hurt you. You watch as his eyes glaze over before looking to the side and taking a deep breath.

"my apologies," he he breathes out bowing before you. His body doesn't more till he hears the words leave your mouth.

"it's alright, you didn't mean it," you tell him reassuringly while rubbing your red wrist.

He stands back up and stares at your face before speaking. For a forty year old man he looks an awful lot like a teenager right now. His body stiff as a board as his mouth fights to get the words out. "you are alright with...me taking you back to my place?" He asks although coming out more as a statement. You giggle at his change in demeanor amd grab his hand and begin walking.

"So where's your car number 27?"

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,226 words | established relationship, oral (f! receiving), rushed but also slow sex, creampie, size kink, aftercare, alcohol consumption (both), happy new year <3

23:27. wakatoshi has been getting progressively touchier with every sip of whiskey burning down his throat. his serious expression now long melted into a mess of pink-dusted cheeks and shy smiles. his large hand has found a new home curved around your waist and he pulls you closer still when a couple of his teammates approach you. it’s a statement. his touch feels possessive, like he’s claiming you. and you lean into it, head resting on his arm. 

maybe under different, more sober circumstances, you’d feel a pang of embarrassment at how the two men are gawking at you. their eyes curious, shifting between the two of you, amused grins as they ask what you’ve done to him. is he usually this adorable? toshi feels the blood rush to his head, the tips of his ears red, and he feels it on his tongue, an inappropriate confession that he would most definitely regret come next practice. but you laugh their comments away. “maybe i put a spell on him.” his fingers dig into your flesh. “he’ll turn back into a grump when the clock strikes midnight, don’t worry.”

23:59. olive eyes bore into yours, just the two of you in an invisible bubble at the packed rooftop bar. the countdown nothing but white noise as his thumbs run over the pretty lines of your face. he kisses you at the count of two, just shy of the turn of the year. it’s slow and deep and it burns your lips with a need for so much more. he’s reluctant as he pulls away, holds you close with his jacket draped over your shoulders as you watch the fireworks. they are nice but he’d much rather look at you, eyes all wide as you watch in awe.  

 00:15. his hand is on your thigh as you sit in the uber in complete silence. there’s a feeling of overflowing tension like just one single word would break whatever restraint is left between the two of you. teeth dig into your bottom lip, hand resting on his as you stare down the traffic lights, willing them to turn green.

it breaks when the door to your tiny elevator closes. there’s too much of him, and he’s too close and too warm and too impatient. and in a moment you can feel his touch everywhere. his lips on yours, demanding and relentless. his hand around your neck, but not squeezing, his thumb pushing your chin up towards him. you fall into the kiss, fingers clawing at the broad plane of his chest, whimpering around his tongue. 

you stumble through the hallway, not breaking apart even as he struggles to unlock the door. the farthest you make it is to the fluffy rug of your living room. he thinks you look angelic splayed out beneath him, lips swollen and shiny, your chest heaving with every laboured breath. he manages to take off his shirt - fingers fiddling with buttons that are way too small - before he’s kissing you again. it’s uncharacteristically rushed and erratic, his lips moving from your mouth to your chin down your neck and over your chest then back up again. muttering praises against your soft skin. “pr- pretty.” stuttered out over the hollow of your throat. the warmth of his breath making your hair prickle. “you are so pretty.”

and you’re just a mess under him, breathless and writhing and whimpering. reaching out to touch him and pull at his hair. and, god, he’s a mess as well. there’s a desperation to his touch, like every kiss might be the last, like you’re about to slip away from his hold. “i need- i need you.” his voice raspy, so deep it makes your belly coil with excitement. and yet it’s low and gentle. such a stark contrast to how his arms flex as he rips your panties off of you. delicate lace disintegrating under the force of his grip. 

your breath catches in your throat when you feel his lips on your pussy, leaving sloppy kisses all over it before he sucks on your clit. he’s usually so attentive, so thorough as he runs his tongue through the dripping folds of your cunt, holds you spread open as you cum into his mouth. but not tonight. his whole body aches with the need to bury himself in you.

and he’s stuttering as he does. “i’m sorry.” gasping as he feels you clamp around his length. “i couldn’t wait, i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, baby.” your tone shushing as you cup his cheeks. “you feel so - ah - so-o good.”

“i love you.” he fucks you slow and deep, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix with every thrust. “i’ll take care of you.” his body completely covers yours, caged by his arms on the side of your head. and you can feel every part of him, the warmth radiating off his skin, the weight of him on top of you. the little drops of sweat that roll between the ridges of his stomach. his lips never leave yours, swallowing every one of your moans and feeding you his. foreheads pressed together. he’s so close, so so close. and you’re making it so hard for him to not give in to his orgasm. you’re just so perfect, and you make the prettiest noises, and he’s so in love with you. he squeezes his eyes shut, using every last bit of energy left in his body to last just a little longer. whining with how raw and sensitive his cock is. and the moment he feels your pussy twitching around him, he’s painting your walls white. his fingers clutching at the carpet below. 

his body spent and limp as he collapses on top of you. and you wish you could stay like this forever but you can barely breathe underneath the weight of him. “ushi,” you whine, “you’re crushing me.”

wakatoshi mutters an apology as he flips you over but still holds you close to his chest. his hand smoothing over your hair. “i love you.” and you know he’s not going to let go of you.

“i know.” the contentment almost palpable in your words. “i love you.”

and within seconds he’s lightly snoring. you giggle at the thought of how you must look right now, his pants half off, sticky with sweat and cum, his cock still inside you. but you don’t have the heart to wake him. 

04:43. your eyes flutter open as he lifts you into his arms. the next thing you feel is the softness of your bed, and his hands working diligently to take off your dress. you drift in and out of sleep as he disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a warm, wet towel. “i’m just cleaning you up.” his voice is as soft as his hands running over your thighs. and you fall in love with him all over again (for the third time tonight) as he picks out a pair of cotton panties and slips them up your legs. and a fourth time when he pulls your favourite shirt of his over your head. 

you fall asleep with your face pressed to his skin and the feeling of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and a lingering whisper of i love you on your lips.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Brian Merchant’s “Blood In the Machine”

Tomorrow (September 27), I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine. On October 2, I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab.

In Blood In the Machine, Brian Merchant delivers the definitive history of the Luddites, and the clearest analysis of the automator's playbook, where "entrepreneurs'" lawless extraction from workers is called "innovation" and "inevitable":

https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/brian-merchant/blood-in-the-machine/9780316487740/

History is written by the winners, and so you probably think of the Luddites as brainless, terrified, thick-fingered vandals who smashed machines and burned factories because they didn't understand them. Today, "Luddite" is a slur that means "technophobe" – but that's neither fair, nor accurate.

Luddism has been steadily creeping into pro-labor technological criticism, as workers and technology critics reclaim the term and its history, which is a rich and powerful tale of greed versus solidarity, slavery versus freedom.

The true tale of the Luddites starts with workers demanding that the laws be upheld. When factory owners began to buy automation systems for textile production, they did so in violation of laws that required collaboration with existing craft guilds – laws designed to ensure that automation was phased in gradually, with accommodations for displaced workers. These laws also protected the public, with the guilds evaluating the quality of cloth produced on the machine, acting as a proxy for buyers who might otherwise be tricked into buying inferior goods.

Factory owners flouted these laws. Though the machines made cloth that was less durable and of inferior weave, they sold it to consumers as though it were as good as the guild-made textiles. Factory owners made quiet deals with orphanages to send them very young children who were enslaved to work in their factories, where they were routinely maimed and killed by the new machines. Children who balked at the long hours or attempted escape were viciously beaten (the memoir of one former child slave became a bestseller and inspired Oliver Twist).

The craft guilds begged Parliament to act. They sent delegations, wrote petitions, even got Members of Parliament to draft legislation ordering enforcement of existing laws. Instead, Parliament passed laws criminalizing labor organizing.

The stakes were high. Economic malaise and war had driven up the price of life's essentials. Workers displaced by illegal machines faced starvation – as did their children. Communities were shattered. Workers who had apprenticed for years found themselves graduating into a market that had no jobs for them.

This is the context in which the Luddite uprisings began. Secret cells of workers, working with discipline and tight organization, warned factory owners to uphold the law. They sent letters and posted handbills in which they styled themselves as the army of "King Ludd" or "General Ludd" – Ned Ludd being a mythical figure who had fought back against an abusive boss.

When factory owners ignored these warnings, the Luddites smashed their machines, breaking into factories or intercepting machines en route from the blacksmith shops where they'd been created. They won key victories, with many factory owners backing off from automation plans, but the owners were deep-pocketed and determined.

The ruling Tories had no sympathy for the workers and no interest in upholding the law or punishing the factory owners for violating it. Instead, they dispatched troops to the factory towns, escalating the use of force until England's industrial centers were occupied by literal armies of soldiers. Soldiers who balked at turning their guns on Luddites were publicly flogged to death.

I got very interested in the Luddites in late 2021, when it became clear that everything I thought I knew about the Luddites was wrong. The Luddites weren't anti-technology – rather, they were doing the same thing a science fiction writer does: asking not just what a new technology does, but also who it does it for and who it does it to:

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

Unsurprisingly, ever since I started publishing on this subject, I've run into people who have no sympathy for the Luddite cause and who slide into my replies to replicate the 19th Century automation debate. One such person accused the Luddites of using "state violence" to suppress progress.

You couldn't ask for a more perfect example of how the history of the Luddites has been forgotten and replaced with a deliberately misleading account. The "state violence" of the Luddite uprising was entirely on one side. Parliament, under the lackadaisical leadership of "Mad King George," imposed the death penalty on the Luddites. It wasn't just machine-breaking that became a capital crime – "oath taking" (swearing loyalty to the Luddites) also carried the death penalties.

As the Luddites fought on against increasingly well-armed factory owners (one owner bought a cannon to use on workers who threatened his machines), they were subjected to spectacular acts of true state violence. Occupying soldiers rounded up Luddites and suspected Luddites and staged public mass executions, hanging them by the dozen, creating scores widows and fatherless children.

The sf writer Steven Brust says that the test to tell whether someone is on the right or the left is simple: ask whether property rights are more important than human rights. If the person says "property rights are human rights," they are on the right.

The state response to the Luddites crisply illustrates this distinction. The Luddites wanted an orderly and lawful transition to automation, one that brought workers along and created shared prosperity and quality goods. The craft guilds took pride in their products, and saw themselves as guardians of their industry. They were accustomed to enjoying a high degree of bargaining power and autonomy, working from small craft workshops in their homes, which allowed them to set their own work pace, eat with their families, and enjoy modest amounts of leisure.

The factory owners' cause wasn't just increased production – it was increased power. They wanted a workforce that would dance to their tune, work longer hours for less pay. They wanted unilateral control over which products they made and what corners they cut in making those products. They wanted to enrich themselves, even if that meant that thousands starved and their factory floors ran red with the blood of dismembered children.

The Luddites destroyed machines. The factory owners killed Luddites, shooting them at the factory gates, or rounding them up for mass executions. Parliament deputized owners to act as extensions of law enforcement, allowing them to drag suspected Luddites to their own private cells for questioning.

The Luddites viewed property rights as just one instrument for achieving human rights – freedom from hunger and cold – and when property rights conflicted with human rights, they didn't hesitate to smash the machines. For them, human rights trumped property rights.

Their bosses – and their bosses' modern defenders – saw the demands to uphold the laws on automation as demands to bring "state violence" to bear on the wholly private matter of how a rich man should organize his business. On the other hand, literal killing – both on the factory floor and at the gallows – was not "state violence" but rather, a defense of the most important of all the human rights: the rights of property owners.

19th century textile factories were the original Big Tech, and the rhetoric of the factory owners echoes down the ages. When tech barons like Peter Thiel say that "freedom is incompatible with democracy," he means that letting people who work for a living vote will eventually lead to limitations on people who own things for a living, like him.

Then, as now, resistance to Big Tech enjoyed widespread support. The Luddites couldn't have organized in their thousands if their neighbors didn't have their backs. Shelley and Byron wrote widely reproduced paeans to worker uprisings (Byron also defended the Luddites in the House of Lords). The Brontes wrote Luddite novels. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was a Luddite novel, in which the monster was a sensitive, intelligent creature who merely demanded a say in the technology that created him.

The erasure of the true history of the Luddites was a deliberate act. Despite the popular and elite support the Luddites enjoyed, the owners and their allies in Parliament were able to crush the uprising, using mass murder and imprisonment to force workers to accept immiseration.

The entire supply chain of the textile revolution was soaked in blood. Merchant devotes multiple chapters to the lives of African slaves in America who produced the cotton that the machines in England wove into cloth. Then – as now – automation served to obscure the violence latent in production of finished goods.

But, as Merchant writes, the Luddites didn't lose outright. Historians who study the uprisings record that the places where the Luddites fought most fiercely were the places where automation came most slowly and workers enjoyed the longest shared prosperity.

The motto of Magpie Killjoy's seminal Steampunk Magazine was: "Love the machine, hate the factory." The workers of the Luddite uprising were skilled technologists themselves.

They performed highly technical tasks to produce extremely high-quality goods. They served in craft workshops and controlled their own time.

The factory increased production, but at the cost of autonomy. Factories and their progeny, like assembly lines, made it possible to make more goods (even goods that eventually rose the quality of the craft goods they replaced), but at the cost of human autonomy. Taylorism and other efficiency cults ended up scripting the motions of workers down to the fingertips, and workers were and are subject to increasing surveillance and discipline from their bosses if they deviate. Take too many pee breaks at the Amazon warehouse and you will be marked down for "time off-task."

Steampunk is a dream of craft production at factory scale: in steampunk fantasies, the worker is a solitary genius who can produce high-tech finished goods in their own laboratory. Steampunk has no "dark, satanic mills," no blood in the factory. It's no coincidence that steampunk gained popularity at the same time as the maker movement, in which individual workers use form digital communities. Makers networked together to provide advice and support in craft projects that turn out the kind of technologically sophisticated goods that we associate with vast, heavily-capitalized assembly lines.

But workers are losing autonomy, not gaining it. The steampunk dream is of a world where we get the benefits of factory production with the life of a craft producer. The gig economy has delivered its opposite: craft workers – Uber drivers, casualized doctors and dog-walkers – who are as surveilled and controlled as factory workers.

Gig workers are dispatched by apps, their faces closely studied by cameras for unauthorized eye-movements, their pay changed from moment to moment by an algorithm that docks them for any infraction. They are "reverse centaurs": workers fused to machines where the machine provides the intelligence and the human does its bidding:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/17/reverse-centaur/#reverse-centaur

Craft workers in home workshops are told that they're their own bosses, but in reality they are constantly monitored by bossware that watches out of their computers' cameras and listens through its mic. They have to pay for the privilege of working for their bosses, and pay to quit. If their children make so much as a peep, they can lose their jobs. They don't work from home – they live at work:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/22/paperback-writer/#toothless

Merchant is a master storyteller and a dedicated researcher. The story he weaves in Blood In the Machine is as gripping as any Propublica deep-dive into the miserable working conditions of today's gig economy. Drawing on primary sources and scholarship, Blood is a kind of Nomadland for Luddites.

Today, Merchant is the technology critic for the LA Times. The final chapters of Blood brings the Luddites into the present day, finding parallels in the labor organizing of the Amazon warehouse workers led by Chris Smalls. The liberal reformers who offered patronizing support to the Luddites – but didn't imagine that they could be masters of their own destiny – are echoed in the rhetoric of Andrew Yang.

And of course, the factory owners' rhetoric is easily transposed to the modern tech baron. Then, as now, we're told that all automation is "progress," that regulatory evasion (Uber's unlicensed taxis, Airbnb's unlicensed hotel rooms, Ring's unregulated surveillance, Tesla's unregulated autopilot) is "innovation." Most of all, we're told that every one of these innovations must exist, that there is no way to stop it, because technology is an autonomous force that is independent of human agency. "There is no alternative" – the rallying cry of Margaret Thatcher – has become our inevitablist catechism.

Squeezing the workers' wages conditions and weakening workers' bargaining power isn't "innovation." It's an old, old story, as old as the factory owners who replaced skilled workers with terrified orphans, sending out for more when a child fell into a machine. Then, as now, this was called "job creation."

Then, as now, there was no way to progress as a worker: no matter how skilled and diligent an Uber driver is, they can't buy their medallion and truly become their own boss, getting a say in their working conditions. They certainly can't hope to rise from a blue-collar job on the streets to a white-collar job in the Uber offices.

Then, as now, a worker was hired by the day, not by the year, and might find themselves with no work the next day, depending on the whim of a factory owner or an algorithm.

As Merchant writes: robots aren't coming for your job; bosses are. The dream of a "dark factory," a "fully automated" Tesla production line, is the dream of a boss who doesn't have to answer to workers, who can press a button and manifest their will, without negotiating with mere workers. The point isn't just to reduce the wage-bill for a finished good – it's to reduce the "friction" of having to care about others and take their needs into account.

Luddites are not – and have never been – anti-technology. Rather, they are pro-human, and see production as a means to an end: broadly shared prosperity. The automation project says it's about replacing humans with machines, but over and over again – in machine learning, in "contactless" delivery, in on-demand workforces – the goal is to turn humans into machines.

There is blood in the machine, Merchant tells us, whether its humans being torn apart by a machine, or humans being transformed into machines.

Brian and I are having a joint book-launch tomorrow night (Sept 27) at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-internet-con-by-cory-doctorow-blood-in-the-machine-by-brian-merchant-tickets-696349940417

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller and the Vampire Auction: Masterlist

The story of Oliver, a seller of rare books who is kidnapped and sold at a high-end auction for vampires to purchase thralls.

18+. Contains vampires, mind control, hypnotic inductions, captivity / gilded cage, blood drinking, abuse, violence, torture, Stockholm syndrome, slavery / human auction, psychological whump.

1. Alexander's Warning

2. Oliver's Kidnapping

3. Oliver's Car Ride

4. Oliver's Exam

5. Oliver's Shower

6. Oliver's Cell

7. Oliver's Neighbors

8. Joe's Story

9. Oliver's Anticipation

10. Oliver's Conditioning

11. Emily's Despair

12. Oliver's Grade

13. Oliver's Fears

14. Lily's Hard Work

15. Emily's Last Meal

16. Emily's Defiance

17. Oliver's Long Shot

18. Oliver's Fancy Dress

19. Oliver's Price Tag

20. Alexander's Temptation

21. Jameson's Threat

22. Oliver's Auction

23. Alexander's Purchase

24. Alexander's Troubles

25. Fitz's Magic Show

26. Lily's Favorite Thrall

27. Oliver's Delivery

28. Fitz's Capture

29. Oliver's Welcome

30. Alexander's Rules

31. Fitz's Showtime

32. Oliver's New Life

33. Alexander's Feeding

34. Fitz's Curtain Call

35. Oliver's Walk

36. Alexander's Desire

37. Alexander's Housekeeper

38. Alexander's Sire

39. Fitz's Rose

40. The Maestro's Mark

41. Alexander's Mark

42. Fitz's Cold Comfort

43. Katherine's Advice

44. Alexander's Vain Hope

45. Fitz's Reflection

46. Oliver's Ballet

47. The Maestro's Diversion

48. Fitz's Charms

49. Alexander's Task

50. Frank's Mistake

51. Oliver's Anticipation

52. The Maestro's Correction

53. Fitz's Terrible Idea

54. Alexander's Tutor

55. Lily's Illusion

56. Jessica's Soiree

57. Fitz's Dance

58. Edgar's Pocket Watch

59. Jenny's Rescue

60. Fitz's Arrival

61. Fitz's Insecurity

62. Vivian's Blood

63. Alexander's Contentment

64. Alexander's Plan

65. Alexander's Lesson

66. Fitz's Fire

67. Fitz's Last Show

68. Oliver's Speakeasy

AUs and Extra Material

Fitz's Volunteer Part One Part Two

Oliver's Songbird AU Part One Part Two

Alexander's Sweet Dream AU Part One Part Two Part Three

90s AU Part One

Alexander: Starvation

Fitz: Sleepy Fitz || Fitz in the Snow || Fitz's Waking Nightmare || Singing

Lily: Erasure || Hypothermia

Roger: Fitz's Alarm Clock || Thunderstorm

Emily: Emily's Crayons

Jameson: Jameson's Insult

Riana (Fanfiction): Riana's Determination

Auction House Worldbuilding

Picrews: Oliver || Alexander & Lily || Fitz || Emily

Hunting Dog

A side story about a vampire hunter captured and turned into an obedient hunting dog.

Lowell's Mistake

Please ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Tour, which affords me the opportunity to be supremely self-indulgent]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) 13: laugh (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Is this still the number for John Watson?

John pauses, thumb hovering. Before he can choose a response, another message flashes in.

It's Harry

He nearly drops the phone. Or maybe he nearly throws it against the wall. Hard to say. 

His reflex to caretake wars with his lingering resentment of her absence. But he knows he would regret ignoring an olive branch… or whatever this is.

Hi

Everything okay?

No small talk, got it

Yes I'm fine, good in fact

and no I'm not going to ask you for money

He breathes in deeply.

I'm glad things are going well for you

And he is, at least in the abstract.

Thanks

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to ask how you are

But you know I'm pants at texting

Can we just have coffee or something?

John taps his phone to his lip absently and considers his options. A public reunion seems like it could be a volatile mistake, not to mention it's 7pm on a weekday. Sherlock is at the lab, Rosie is having her after-supper blanket time, and John is catching up on charting.

And to be honest, he's pretty bored.

Come to mine for tea?

Harry's three dots wibble for a while, which John supposes is fair.

Right now?

With my schedule, I have to take opportunities where I can

Okay, yeah, I'm free

He sends her the address, feeling both pleased and annoyed. One would think that hitting his own rock bottom would make him more sympathetic towards his sister. But really, it just piles helpless anger on top of guilt on top of anger, ad nauseum.

He's not even sure she knows he's a father, for Christ's sake.

Turns out, she doesn't. She walks through the door he holds open for her, and stops abruptly when she sees Rosie. 'Oh my God,' she breathes, staring. 'Oh my God. You--' She turns to John, eyes wide. 'She-- Johnny. She's yours?'

He nods, and despite everything, he feels his face curve into a proud smile. 'Her name's Rosie.'

'Can I--' Harry indicates the blanket with a sharp movement. 'Can I say hello to her?'

'Yeah, course.' He follows her, and folds himself down behind Rosie. 'Sweetheart, this is your Aunt Harry.'

Harry makes a bit of a squawking noise, probably at the 'aunt' bit, but tamps it down. 'Hi, Rosie,' she manages, her voice rough but determined. 'It's lovely to meet you. What are you playing with?'

'Avocados,' Rosie mostly manages to say, then holds one up for Harry without hesitation. Harry takes it with a giggle, and before long they're thick as thieves with a pile of emoting avocados between them.

Harry glances up at him when there's a lull. 'So. The dad life is treating you well, yeah?'

He hesitates, then nods. 'It is now.'

She eyes him, but doesn't ask about what came before now. Instead, she says, 'I'm just going to ask, alright -- who's the other parent?'

He raises an eyebrow. 'Why d'you say there is one?'

Her eyes twinkle. 'Because you do not have the fashion sense to have bought her this outfit. Your bird rich, then?'

He coughs. 'Well. No.'

She waits, though he can see she's trying not to be annoyed by his reticence. She's never understood people wanting to keep things private. 'No?'

'My… flatmate. He's able to buy her things I don't give a toss about, yeah.'

She blinks. 'You have a gay flatmate?'

John feels his ears heat up. 'I do, yeah.'

She seems weirdly impressed. 'You've come a long way from being a rugby lad, haven't you?'

He snorts. 'I'm learning how to do plaits, if you'll believe it.'

'She's not got enough hair for that yet.'

'Sherlock--the flatmate--insists it's a useful skill, though I've no idea why.'

She doesn't reply, and he looks up from where he's helping Rosie with her current avocado. 'What?' he asks, though he knows it's useless. Harry is no Sherlock but honestly, she doesn't have to be, because his emotions have always been written all over his face. It's a curse and a blessing.

'Oh holy shit,' she breathes out.

'Language,' he admonishes reflexively.

'Sorry, I mean-- Holy noses, Johnny.'

'Don't be smug.'

'Oh, I take no credit for this, I always knew the overcompensating locker room talk was hiding something.'

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. 'Yeah, insecurity about willy size.'

'Okay, ew, first of all. Second of all-- What the--' He gives her a warning look. 'Ever-loving heck.'

'Short version?' She nods quickly. He decides to also give her the slightly-less-mad-sounding version. 'Got married, got pregnant, had baby, wife passed away, realised I had feelings for my flatmate. Who is a man. And who is effectively fathering my child.'

She claps her hand over her mouth, and for a moment he fears she's going to cry, but then realises she's laughing.

'Oi, that's just not on,' he protests.

'But it's ridiculous!' She holds out a hand to him placatingly, speaking through continued laughter. 'It's lovely and sad and all that, but you have to admit--'

There are tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and he feels it begin to bubble up in his chest, too. Her laugh has always been a thing of beauty, of loud, annoying, contagious, unforgettable beauty, and he can't help it.

And she's right, really. It is kind of ridiculous.

He lets out his own laugh, finally, and reaches for her hand.

[❤️]

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading  “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of- 

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling  at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor. 

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather. 

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them. 

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s  a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. 

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted,  of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night  was the thought of a deity (and his father)  designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away. 

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it. 

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed. 

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always  left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek. 

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible. 

“I wish you were a girl”

[bibururokku]

An Unofficial Comprehensive Age List of Blue Lock Characters from Oldest to Youngest

I made this because of this post I made here as a means to keep me sane, but feel free to reblog to keep it as a reference and stuff!

Oldest

Youngest

1. Buratsuta Hirotoshi — November 7th, 1957 (62) 2. Isagi Issei — May 1st, 1972 (46) 3. Isagi Iyo — January 4th, ???? (43)** 4. Bachira Yu — August 16th, 1981 (37) 5. Noel Noa — April 2nd, ???? (31)** 6. Jinpachi Ego — March 31st, ???? (30)** 7. Dada Silva — October 23rd, ???? (28)** 8. Leonardo Luna — October 31st, ???? (27)** 9. Adam Blake — September 30th, 1992 (26) 10. Pablo Cavasoz — March 7th, ???? (23)** 11. Teieri Anri — August 17th, 1996 (22) 12. Aiku Oliver — June 30th, 1999 (19) 13. Don Lorenzo — July 4th, 1999 (19) 14. Michael Kaiser — December 25th, 1999 (19)* 15. Yukimiya Kenyu — April 28th, 2000 (18) 16. Okawa Hibiki — June 12th, 2000 (18) 17. Baro Shoei — June 27th, 2000 (18) 18. Shido Ryusei — July 7th, 2000 (18) 19. Imamura Yudai — July 15th, 2000 (18) 20. Karasu Tabito — August 15th, 2000 (18) 21. Wanima Junichi — August 20th, 2000 (18) 22. Wanima Keisuke — August 20th, 2000 (18) 23. Sendo Shuto — October 7th, 2000 (18) 24. Itoshi Sae — October 10th, 2000 (18)* 25. Aryu Jyubei — November 3rd, 2000 (18)* 26. Kuon Wataru — November 16th, 2000 (18)* 27. Iemon Okuhito — November 19th, 2000 (18)* 28. Otoya Eita — December 3rd, 2000 (18)* 29. Ishikari Yukio — December 10th, 2000 (18)* 30. Gagamaru Gin — January 2nd, 2001 (18)* 31. Tokimitsu Aoshi — March 21st, 2001 (18)* 32. Nagi Seishiro — May 6th, 2001 (17) 33. Kira Ryosuke — May 23rd, 2001 (17) 34. Julian Loki — June 9th, 2001 (17) 36. Igarashi Gurimu — July 6th, 2001 (17) 37. Bachira Meguru — August 8th, 2001 (17) 38. Mikage Reo — August 12th, 2001 (17) 39. Kiyora Jin — August 31st, 2001 (17) 40. Raichi Jingo — October 11th, 2001 (17)* 41. Tsurugi Zantetsu — October 30th, 2001 (17)* 42. Hiori Yo — November 30th, 2001 (17)* 43. Chigiri Hyoma — December 23rd, 2001 (17)* 44. Kunigami Rensuke — March 11th, 2002 (17)* 46. Isagi Yoichi — April 1st, 2002 (17)* 47. Kurona Ranze — September 6th, 2002 (16) 48. Itoshi Rin — September 9th, 2002 (16) 49. Nanase Nijiro — January 1st, 2003 (16)* 50. Niko Ikki — February 5th, 2003 (16)* 51. Naruhaya Asahi — March 20th, 2003 (16)*

* As Sae has turned 18 after the Second Selection and Isagi has turned 17 sometime during or a bit before the PxG match, it can be assumed that every character with a birthday between was a year younger and has aged up to the ages currently shown on the list sometime in the series.

So basically: Michael Kaiser — December 25th, 1999 (18 → 19) Itoshi Sae — October 10th, 2000 (17 → 18) Aryu Jyubei — November 3rd, 2000 (17 → 18) Kuon Wataru — November 16th, 2000 (17 → 18) Iemon Okuhito — November 19th, 2000 (17 → 18) Otoya Eita — December 3rd, 2000 (17 → 18) Ishikari Yukio — December 10th, 2000 (17 → 18) Gagamaru Gin — January 2nd, 2001 (17 → 18) Tokimitsu Aoshi — March 21st, 2001 (17 → 18) Raichi Jingo — October 11th, 2001 (16 → 17) Tsurugi Zantetsu — October 30th, 2001 (16 → 17) Hiori Yo — November 30th, 2001 (16 → 17) Chigiri Hyoma — December 23rd, 2001 (16 → 17) Kunigami Rensuke — March 11th, 2002 (16 → 17) Isagi Yoichi — April 1st, 2002 (16 → 17) Nanase Nijiro — January 1st, 2003 (15 → 16) Niko Ikki — February 5th, 2003 (15 → 16) Naruhaya Asahi — March 20th, 2003 (15 → 16)

** The birth year and age of these characters are unknown because it is unclear whether these characters have aged into their listed ages or were these ages when introduced, so there is a chance that these ages are now off by one year. Thus, they may be either a year younger and have just turned that age or are all currently a year older because their birthdays have passed now.

In other words: Isagi Iyo — January 4th, 1975 OR 1976 (43 → 44 || 42 → 43) Noel Noa — April 2nd, 1987 OR 1988 (31 → 32 || 30 → 31) Jinpachi Ego — March 31st, 1988 OR 1989 (30 → 31 || 29 → 30) Dada Silva — October 23rd, 1989 OR 1990 (28 → 29 || 27 → 28) Leonardo Luna — October 31st, 1990 OR 1991 (27 → 28 || 26 → 27) Pablo Cavasoz — March 7th, 1995 OR 1996 (23 → 24 || 22 → 23)

Other things to keep in mind:

Blue Lock is supposed to be set in mid/late 2018, and the current events we see take place in 2019. Given that the series has an official setting and official ages with confirmed passage of time with people aging as their birthdays pass, characters should be born during the years listed above.

However, the birth years of certain adults (see above) can be iffy simply because there is a lack of information about them and the exact timeline of events occurring in the series. (E.g. it is known that Isagi turned 17 sometime around the PxG match, but it is unclear whether or not Noel Noa's birthday has also passed despite his birthday being the day after Isagi's.)

What is certain are the birth years of the U-20 players and the Blue Lock participants because U-20 players cannot be older than the maximum age of 20 in the year of the competition to qualify, so their oldest has to be born sometime in '99 to be able to play. As for the Blue Lock participants, the original 300 players were selected from a pool of high schoolers, so they have to be between 15-18, as Japan only has three years of high school, with each grade having a specific age range due to how the school year is arranged to start in April and end in March, as such, 1st years are always 15-16 years old, 2nd years are always 16-17 years old and 3rd years are always 17-18 years old, so everyone had to be born between '00-'03.

Extra things that came to mind as I wrote this:

— As it is currently April in Blue Lock, the 3rd year boys are technically graduated from high school, and the 1st and 2nd years should be the 2nd and 3rd years now. — Depending on how far into April it is, Yukimiya could be or turn 19. — The boys would be around 20-25 years old irl rn.

[sebbyisland]

This is a weird question but you have good vibes so do you know any good shoujos for beginners? If you dont then just delete this lol

OH this is the best question i have ever received! Thank you! I hope this can be a helpful resource for you or anyone else interested in getting into shojo!!!

I’m gonna define “Good Beginner Shojo” as stories with an interesting premise, strong narrative(? this is VERY subjective sorry?), and also lacks some of the more squicky/uncomfortable tropes: predatory romantic relationships, borderline sexual assault as flirting, or incest**. This list is split between short and long series. I’ll also try to keep the genres diverse! These are all stories I’ve personally read/watched and are popular enough that they’ve been officially translated in different languages.

Good Shojo for Beginners, Short Term Investment

Princess Tutu: A dark fairy-tale-esque anime about a young girl who studies ballet in the day and fights demons at night using ballet + emotional intelligence. The deeper plot is that the entire cast are treated like puppets by a grand and elusive storymaster, and they all must struggle to escape being doomed by the narrative. There’s a lot of references to Swan Lake, the girl keeps getting turned into a duck, many emotions are felt. Complete, one anime season.

From Me to You: shy young girl is a social outcast due to misunderstandings that blew out of proportion. She receives an olive branch from a boy in her class and this gives her the confidence to start making friends and support herself!! The aforementioned boy is also her love interest and is endearingly too flustered to make a move. high school drama ensues. Two anime seasons, manga complete ~120 chapters.

Magic Knight Rayearth: three girls get transported to a fantasy world and have to learn to work together in giant magic mecha suits order to rescue a trapped princess + save the world. They make friends along the way as they try to fight monsters. One anime season, manga complete ~30 chapters.

Kase-san: sapphic high school romance with a jock girl and gardener girl who plants flowers near her practice field… they are both kinda shy and build up confidence as their bond gets deeper. it’s just 100% fluff. anime OVA and complete manga, ~15 chapters, there's also a sequel-series though

Library Wars: what it says on the tin. militant librarians fight the government to stop book censorship. the story follows a soldier in training: a reckless young woman who dreams of meeting the "prince" who inspired her to take up arms to protect books. this is more of an action-comedy than a political drama, so don't expect too much from the plot, but it's fun to watch our failgirl get put into situations. one anime season, 73 chapter manga, live action movie. you'll be okay just watching the anime but obvi the manga expands more on the characters + world building.

Orange: high school girl receives letters from her future self that tell her that a boy from her friend group is planning on committing suicide. She works with her friends to prevent this from happening, but things are definitely more complicated than they seem. An emotional drama, discussion of mental health including depression and suicidal thoughts. It’s a really heartfelt series. One anime season, ~38 chapter manga. (originally published in a shoujo magazine, then switched to seinen probably for marketing reasons.*)

In the Clear Moonlit Dusk: Masculine studious girl feels distant from her classmates who idolize her as a “prince,” but then she catches the attention of the local sparkly bad boy “prince.” An innocent, fluffy high school romance about a prince and her prince. SO many sparkly anime eyes, if that's you're thing. It’s a simple plot, but I enjoy the execution a lot. Ongoing, currently ~27 chapters

Tokyo Mew Mew: Captain Planet but magical girl. group of teen girls get accidentally infused with the DNA of endangered animal species + magic and transform into a hero squad to fight aliens trying to destroy earth's resources! Their cover for their secret headquarters is a maid café, where they all work part time. Manga complete ~30 chapters, anime adaption complete + one season of anime reboot.

Good Shojo for Beginners, Long Term Investment

Yona of the Dawn: historic fantasy setting, coming of age for a naive young princess who grows into a capable leader by abandoning her sheltered life within palace walls for…plot reasons (major spoiler in 1st chapter LOL). there’s a slow but thorough exploration of the political issues in her kingdom, i would say the world-building is an unexpected strength of the story. She’s supported by her hot magical anime boy harem, but the story emphasizes found family dynamics over the romcom. there’s still a primary love interest established early on, it’s just VERY slow burn. one anime season, manga ongoing 300+ chapters

Kageki Shojo!!: Follow the adventures of an all-girls vocational school to train to become members of the historic Kouka all-girls musical theater troupe, where women play roles for all genders. The protagonist is a girl who grew up watching Kouka performances and never lost her sense of childlike wonder. Theater doesn’t come naturally for her, but she’s also very talented. Fun cast, lightly discusses social issues as they come up with sincerity and care. Very reminiscent of 80s shojo. One anime season, Ongoing manga 90+ chapters

My Love Mix-Up! what if there was an ACTUAL high school love triangle. boy likes girl who likes a different boy, but that boy is interested in the aforementioned boy. what if this was all a misunderstanding and actually boy and girl like the same boy. what if that was also a misunderstanding. have you ever been a dumbass high school student trying your best. protagonist is bi king. 120~ chapters, no anime, but a live action show.

Ouran High School Host Club: ah yes a classic romcom. girl gets a scholarship to an elite high school and accidentally falls into debt on her first day to the school host club (boys who professionally flirt with girls during lunch). To pay off her debt, she pretends to be a guy at school so she can work as a host. The comedy is a blend of making fun of shojo tropes and the disaster personalities that make up the supporting cast. it's funnier the more shojo you have read/watched before this one. one anime season, 200+ chapters, complete

BL Metamorphosis: elderly widow accidentally reads a BL manga and gets invested, she bonds with a high school girl who works at the bookstore about it. Very cute parallels between her late husband and the fictional love story. Depicts fandom culture without normalizing the creepy and invasive BL fan behavior. Reminds me a lot of spending time with my grandma, which makes me want to cry.~90 chapters.

Sailor Moon: I know i know everyone is going to tell you this but it's actually a classic for a reason. (Sapphic!!!) magical girls traveling across space and time? Fighting evil with the power of friendship and love? Cute character designs? It's a good time. Protagonist is a total brat (normal 14yr old!!!!) AND a good hero. I'm putting this last because I wanted the other stories to have a chance, but it's honestly so good like please. There technically an inappropriate age gap relationship but it's like the disney movie Tangled where you don't realize it until you literally look up their ages. 150+ chapters, complete.

**When I first read shojo, I was a very young child, basically the target audience, but there are things I read as a child that would make me feel a bit disgusted to read now. Knowing this, I want people who are new to shojo to make informed decisions. There are problematic tropes present in MANY well loved stories--and they are well-loved for a reason!!! These complexities are part of reading and enjoying fiction. I've excluded some of my all-time favorite stories from my childhood thanks to the criteria I set as good "beginner" shojo--but I also don't want to contribute to a world that divides stories as "problematic" and "unproblematic" as if such a binary exists. Ultimately, this list is just based on my PERSONAL taste, what I deem more comfortable to read than other stories, so I can't guarantee that you'll have the same experience. I can't even promise I would have the same experience re-reading some of these, since the stuff that made me comfortable/uncomfortable in the past has changed in the present. It's all very subjective. That's why I'm intentionally specific about the tropes I've excluded. Note that this doesn't mean the stories listed are not littered with their own flaws. I hope this disclaimer didn't seem too excessive, haha.

[catsukiiee]

# IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, THEN SHUT UP!

౨ৎ prohero!katsuki bakugou x fem!bookstore owner!reader | chapter five.

wordcount ; 2,840

paragraphs ; 133

sentences ; 190

content warning ; angst (?)

other chapters can be found here !!!

songs for this chapter ;

waking up , bakugou acting cold/getting ready/opening your shop again , bakugou & class 1-A , the drive home

readers quirk ; weightless [ allows you to manipulate gravity, making both objects and humans lighter or so heavy they physically can't move themselves or an object. if used at 100% and used on a focus point can cause something or someone to emplode. ]

reader appearance prompt ; readers appearance prompt ; short spiky ruffled black hair with faded pink tips from a dye attempt, stands at 5'4, slightly muscular, dark olive toned skin, golden yellow eyes.

katsuki bakugou is 27 here instead of his canon age of 24 / reader has katsuki's canon age (24).

The sound of morning was peaceful; birds sang, and kids screamed and giggled as they played in the early morning warmth.

Sunlight streamed into your room, golden beams warming your skin that peeked out from beneath the covers. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you quietly lay in peaceful stillness, sleepily gazing at the slightly ajar window. A sudden gentle movement beside you startled you, drawing your attention to a tousled head of blonde hair.

Oh my god... OH MY GOD?!

You nearly toppled off the bed, sitting up so abruptly that your head spun and your stomach flipped.

There, sprawled in your bed, was Katsuki Bakugou, his usual hardened expression now softened in sleep. He looked so at peace, sunlight playing across his sharp features, one arm draped over his abdomen while the other rested casually above his head.

Damn, he looks so kissable.

Wait, kissable?... Oh.

The bedcovers grazed your hand as you moved it upward to touch your lips, warmth enveloping every part of your body. Vivid memories of the kiss surged in your mind, recalling how his hands firmly pulled you closer and how he kissed you with an effortless ease, as natural as breathing.

The sudden heat in your body made you jolt up from your bed, nearly tripping from the covers wrapping around your feet. Once you were steady on your feet, you turned to look over your shoulder to see if your ungraceful movements had woken him up, and it did.

Red eyes stared right at you; well, they were staring at your ass first. He didn't even seem shameful when his eyes connected with yours.

Pervert.

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and gruff from sleep; the bags under his eyes were light, nearly unnoticeable, but you knew they were there. “Good morning.” You breathed out, not sure whether to move or say something again.

Bakugou was the first to break the silence again, your bed creaking as he got up. “I have to get going.” He spoke calmly, taking his time getting up from your bed, wearing nothing but boxer briefs that hugged his ass. Now it was your turn to stare now that his back was to you, his muscles flexing as he pulled his pants on, then reached for his shirt.

“Are you leaving?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

His tone felt off; Like a brick wall had suddenly been built around you and him, the usual light tenderness in his red eyes was gone when he turned to look at you.

You felt cold under his gaze. You hated it.

“Look.” He started, sighing heavily. “What happened last night shouldn't have happened.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You weren't together, so what he was saying shouldn't have hurt; only a kiss was shared, and that was it.

But that kiss meant something to you at least.

“You're acting like we had sex or something.” Your voice was shockingly cold; it even made you feel colder than you already were.

“I'm glad we didn't.” He shot back instantly, eyeing you for only a second before looking to your bedroom door, his jaw ticking.

You refused to allow him to see the hurt in your eyes; you kissed him, allowed him to see your vulnerable side that night and last night, and then you shared a bed, snuggling into his body like it was a safe haven. You remembered how he pulled you close that entire night, pressing kisses against your forehead and brushing his fingertips up and down your spine till you fell asleep in his arms.

In his arms… None of it was casual. The shared kisses, the tender touches, and the way every hardened look he gave to anyone immediately melted when he looked at you was not casual.

“Have a good day, Dynamight.” You felt like ice; his hardened stare did nothing to warm you.

“You too.”

×××

You spent the rest of the morning doing your usual routine like nothing had happened, ignoring the heaviness in your heart with every inhale and exhale. The memories of that night and last night left a sour taste in your mouth; not even the minty sting of toothpaste or the sweet taste of jelly on toasted bread washed away the taste.

Your mother came to visit you again, offering you gentle looks and comforting words. All you could muster were small thanks and half smiles that left a worried expression in your mother's eyes; she didn't pry though; she knew not to pry too much.

Around the afternoon, your mother convinced you to go to your bookstore. As soon as you flipped the open sign, customers were filling in after only a couple of minutes. Many of the normal customers asked how you were doing and that they missed you and your shop; you had many new faces as well. Many you recognized from that night.

You now sat at the front, writing down new books to order for your shop. “Hey!” A familiar voice came, big puppy eyes immediately coming into your view when you lifted your head. Your young employee stood there, her arms crossed and a pout on her lips. “Why didn't you call me about the shop being open? I'm your employee, remember?”

Crap. . I completely forgot.

“Argh, sorry. I forgot to call you before opening the shop.” You winced at the hard look she gave you, an uncanny resemblance to her older sister for sure.

“This won't be a dock on your pay, I promise.”

“Hmph, it better not! Now gimme my apron! I have pastries to cook while you put your nose back in the books.”

Her usual attitude made you smile, for once you didn't feel the urge to strangle her.

“Never seen you so eager to work.” You teased lightly, walking to the back of the store.

Her frown deepened, doe eyes widening dramatically. “I was threatened by my sister!”

“Good.”

“What?!”

×××

Katsuki Bakugou POV.

The morning sun felt nice against my skin, her bedroom smelled nice as well, and so did she. She looked pretty under the sunlight; her eye bags were heavy though; seems like that night really haunted her.

If she was awake right now... Hold on, what the hell am I thinking? Goddamnit.

Lifting one hand up, Katsuki dragged it across his face, inhaling deeply then exhaling heavily. He didn't sleep that much after settling you down into bed, troubled by his thoughts and his actions.

Fuck. Why did I kiss her? She looked so… sad. I needed to do something, but why did I kiss her?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned to look over at your sleeping figure. Your folded arms shielded most of your face from his view, but he saw enough that left him satisfied. Your brown skin a glowing caramel under strips of sun that leaked into the bedroom.

I could just kiss her right now.

That thought made everything in Katsuki pause. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to touch you, and most importantly, he wanted to love you.

Love doesn't exist in my line of work.

He frowned angrily, not at you but at himself. How stupid could he be? Ignoring the way you stared at him with clear devotion he wasn't sure you understood yourself.

God fucking dammit.

His thoughts stilled at the sound of you stirring. His heart skipped several beats as he made his body relax and closed his eyes, praying that his pretend sleep looked convincing.

The silence felt suffocating; prickles of anxiety touched his skin at the feeling of your eyes on him. The bed covers ruffled, then silence followed once again. He was close to opening his eyes in defeat when the bed suddenly creaked, followed by the light taps of feet hitting the floor, some of the covers brushing off his skin.

She tripped. She's always so clumsy.

Opening one eye, Katsuki stared at your back, his gaze shamelessly lowered to the back of your thighs and your ass. Both eyes now open; heat swallowed his body when he realized you had caught him staring.

Silence filled the space between you two. He watched as your eyes widened slightly; the shock there soon replaced with softness.

Fondness and love.

Something I did not need.

“Good morning.” was the only thing he could force out, unsure what to do or say to you other than that. “Good morning.” came the softest response he ever heard; how could someone make their voice so tender?

I need to leave before I do something stupid again.

“Are you leaving?”

Goddammit. Why did she sound so clingy? And why do I like it?

“Why wouldn't I?”

Ignoring the sudden tension in the air, Katsuki focused on pulling his clothes on, silently cursing himself to hell when he turned around to face you again, the hurt in your eyes clear as day.

Please don't look at me like that.

“Look.” he started, sighing heavily. “What happened last night shouldn't have happened.”

Even though I loved feeling her so close.

“You're acting like we had sex or something.” Her voice was shockingly cold.

How could someone so warm be capable of sounding so cold?

Squaring his shoulders, he stared you down, imagining someone or something that annoyed him. He wouldn't be able to stare at you with genuine coldness; he couldn't. “I'm glad we didn't.” he shot back instantly, guilt and pain stabbing at his heart, eyeing you for only a second before looking to your bedroom door, begging for the pain in his heart not to show through his eyes, his jaw ticking with strain.

“Have a good day, Dynamight.” He felt like ice was in his body, turning everything ice cold.

Dynamight? Say my name. Please.

Swallowing down his true thoughts, he kept his eyes in front of him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You too.”

Each step he took down the stairs felt like he was walking on lava, the rational side of his brain telling him to turn around right now, but that would be foolish.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

×××

“DIE!”

Every inch of muscle in his arms strained and tightened, smoke and wind washing past him with each explosion that blasted from his hands.

“Jeez, Bakugou, you're going harder on me than usual.” Kirishima groaned, slamming his hardened arms into Bakugou's hand to keep the explosive attacks from his face.

The air around him sizzled as he threw in more explosive attacks, grunting as his arms began stiffening from the strain. “Shut up and stop complaining!” he growled, slamming his fist into the redhead at full force. Prickles of pain shooting up his arm made him falter in speed for a split second, enough time for black ropes to grab him.

“Fuck! Let go of me, De-Izuku!”

The ground vibrated behind him with a heavy thump, green zaps going here and there around Katsuki’s vision, followed by messy green hair. “Pushing yourself isn't good for you or your quirk.”

“You…” Straining against the black whip, Bakugou clenched his fist, glaring daggers into his childhood best friend, then to Kirishima, who groaned out an agreement to Izuku's words. “Know-it-all brats! I'm perfectly fine!”

“Uh huh, sure.” Izuku tightened his black whip, ignoring Katsuki's struggle. “Come on, I'm hungry, and Momo made some new tea.”

“I'm not hungry, dammit!”

“Whatever you say, Kacchan.”

Unfortunately, as always, Izuku proved Bakugou right. The plate full of food in front of him was nearly gone in minutes, the growling in his stomach subdued after the third plate.

Most of Class 1-A sat around the table, chatting and eating amongst themselves; it felt like high school all over again.

“The food isn't going anywhere; you don't need to eat like it's your last meal.” Denki laughed, eyeing the two empty plates stacked in front of Bakugou's current plate. “Shut the hell up!”

“Leave him alone; he's obviously starved.” Momo hummed out calmly, her hair that was usually pinned up now falling down her back freely. Shoto sat beside her, their fingers locked together, their ring fingers having matching engagement rings that were so obviously expensive.

Who the fuck buys expensive engagement rings anyway? You'll just end up having to buy an even more expensive wedding ring. I could never do that for…

Your smiling face popped up in his mind right as that thought passed.

Fuck.

The appetite he had vanished in a second; just looking at the food made his stomach lurch forward. Silently, Bakugou sat back in his seat, watching his friends cheerfully talk.

Denki had his arm around Jirou's shoulder, her hands resting on her small-ish belly bump. Bastard knocked her up as soon as they posted about their engagement and joined their Hero Companies together, even though their plan was to do that when they officially got married. Meanwhile, Kirishima eyed Mina across the room, looking like a lovesick puppy as she danced with Uraraka, Asui, and Hagakure. The rest were off on the other side of the room playing pool.

Everyone seemed so happy and relaxed; it slightly made Bakugou relax himself, even if he was being haunted by flashes of you.

“Something on your mind?” Izuku sat down next to him, passing him a bottle of beer. “Nope.” He grunted out, ignoring the loaded look from Midoriya.

“Sure.”

This fucker.

“Whatever you did.” Izuku slouched over, elbows resting on his legs, eyeing Bakugou with a look of familiar fondness that they always held since their childhood days. “Go fix it; it's clearly eating you up inside.”

Go fix it? Sounds so simple, but it isn't.

“Giving me advice now, Midoriya?”

“I've always given you advice.”

Well, that was true.

Grimacing to himself, Bakugou took a heavy swig of the beer, the taste leaving a bitter aftertaste. “This one isn't so simple.” Confusion crossed Izuku’s face, his brows furrowing. “Why do you say that? Did you destroy something? You're rich enough to replace it if so.”

“Money can't fix what I destroyed.”

×××

Reader's Pov.

“Onee-san! I'm heading out now!”

“Hold on, I'm coming with you! Let me escort you to your car.”

In a hurry to grab your car keys, you almost stumbled, mentally scolding yourself for your clumsiness.

Your young employee peeked around the corner, curious about the commotion. “Are you alright?” You turned to her, offering a slight smile. “I’m fine, just tripped.”

She returned your smile immediately, extending her arm as you approached. “Is the schedule returning to normal?”

The schedule? Oh, right.

The day had started off warm, but as it progressed, the temperature began to drop, with colorful leaves crunching beneath your feet. “Autumn is approaching; it’s time to reopen the shop. We’ll be busy, especially with the baked goods.”

“Ugh, does that mean I have to work harder?”

“You should have been working hard all along!”

“Ouch! Don’t hit my head like that! What if I become dumb?”

“You already are.”

You rolled your eyes at her dramatic antics but, turning your head away to hide your smile. Spending days cooped up at home had been quite dreary, and it felt refreshing to be back at work, selling baked goods and drinks amidst the lively chatter and the aroma of both old and new books. Having an employee to share the workload was a bonus; her dramatics provided free entertainment.

“Oh wow, he’s cute.”

What?

You followed her gaze and noticed a brown-haired man who appeared somewhat lost, a worried look on his face. “He looks lost,” you muttered.

Before you could react, she was pulling you toward the man, her doe-eyes sparkling as she greeted him. “Hello! Are you lost?” She stood on her toes, trying to peek at the map on his phone. You gently pulled her back, offering the man an apologetic smile.

“I was looking for xx cafe, but I think I might be too late now,” he said with a nervous chuckle, giving you both a polite smile. “Really? This is the owner!” she exclaimed, tugging at your jacket.

You smiled and gave a slight bow. “Hello, the cafe will be open at 9 AM and closes around 4 PM; we just closed early for the day.”

He nodded in response, offering a quick thanks before heading out. You waved goodbye as your employee shouted a loud ‘goodnight,’ gripping your arm tighter as you pulled her away.

“He was adorable! Did you catch that smile he gave you? He totally liked you!”

Just thinking of another man in that way made your stomach turn.

“Just get in your car and head home, you delusional fucker.”

“Awe, okay!”

With a heavy sigh, you made your way to your car, glancing in the mirror as your employee drove off. You sat in silence for a bit, lost in thought. Memories of his intense gaze snapped you back to reality, stirring up a mix of pain, confusion, and anger in your chest.

As you started the car, the soft tunes from the radio helped ease your nerves a little. You drove the rest of the way in silence, your mind a warzone.

bakugou: "love doesn't exist in my line of work 😞😞"

half class of 1-a dating each other/engaged to each other/and in the process of getting pregnant / other half very much in relationships already; 💃🕺

toga x uraraka is canon here as well 🤭 they'll be making an appearance next chapter (i refuse to be robbed of a wlw ship horikoshi)

[glennk56]

Gerard Horan. British actor who often plays detectives on TV. These photos range from 2002-2013. I like to see wearing something other than the typical detective suit and tie and playing roles other than that.

Gerard Horan Photo Page.

Nicholas Nickelby (period adventure romance adapted from Charles Dickens noval), 12/2002. pictured with Timothy Spall.

2-4. My Family 5;9. (tv Family sitcom starring Robert Lindsay and Zoe Wanamaker that ran for 11 seasons, 2000-2011) 5/2004.

5-6. Marple 1;4. 1/2005 (tv mystery based on Agatha Christie's Miss Marple novels set in the 1950s)

7. Timewatch 4;2. 3/2005. (investigative documentary series on historical events-This particular episode follows the life of Cicero.

8. Oliver Twist 9/2005. (Apapted from the Charles Dickens Novel) Gerard played a small role as a Farmer.

9-10. Doc Martin 2;1, 11/2005. (from very long running Comedy/drama TV series) I posted photos from this episode earlier.

11-13. Dalziel and Pascoe 10;7 4/2006. (Long-running personality driven whodunnit crime drama.) Gerard plays a suspect in this episode.)

14. The Royal 5;10, 5/2006. (Hospital drama) Gerard has only a small role in this episode.)

15. As You Like It, 9/2006. (adapted from Shakespeare's play)

16-19. Doctor Who 3;8, 5/2007. (from the 2 part episode Human Nature and The Family of Blood during David Tennant's turn as the Doctor)

20-21. Kingdom 1;4, 5/2007. (Crime comedy/drama starring Stephen Fry) Gerard played a recurring character D.C. Yelland.

22. Lark Rise to Candleford 1;3, 1/2008. (short-lived Romance Drama set in the Victorian Era) Gerard appeared in all 6 episodes.)

23. Kingdom 3;3, 4/2009.

24. DCI Banks 1;6, 10/2011. (Crime/Mystery Drama)

25. My Week With Marilyn. 10/2011. (A film of the making of the film The Prince and The Showgirl)

26. Appropriate Adult (miniseries) 12/2011.

27. Dancing On the Edge. (award-winning miniseries) 2/2013. John Goodman plays a prominent role. Gerard has a small role.

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

La Cathédrale de Thornolie: 27 Mai 1850: 11:45

Monseigneur Oliver: You seem nervous.

Comte de Montavin: [Scoffs] Don't be ridiculous. I'm just ready for this to be over and done with.

Monseigneur Oliver: [Smirks] That eager to finish what you started?

Comte de Montavin: [Chuckles] You are the last person I'd expect to hear such a jab. That's usually Ernest's territory.

Monseigneur Oliver: Considering he is sitting in the pews and not standing beside you, someone had to carry the torch.

Comte de Montavin: Amusing...

Monseigneur Oliver: You do realise it is alright to be nervous? If I were standing where you are now I definitely would be.

Comte de Montavin: Now you truly are being ridiculous. You mean to tell me you'd be nervous to marry her? Did you not just finally kiss the girl?

Monseigneur Oliver: I'm not so sure she'll accept my proposal.

Comte de Montavin: I find it incredibly unlikely she would reject you.

Monseigneur Oliver: I wish I shared your faith. I've done all I can to persaude her of my affections, to convince her to tell me what has changed between us, but she refuses at every turn.

Comte de Montavin: Hmm...and here I thought Ernest's grumblings about her perculiar behaviour to be rather unfounded.

Monseigneur Oliver: Quoi?

Comte de Montavin: I probably shouldn't say anything, but according to Ernest last we spoke he's mentioned her looking scared. Terrified even.

Monseigneur Oliver: Of what?

Comte de Montavin: Je ne sais pas. Ernest says he's not been very successful either in uncovering the matter. He said the last time he tried she turned that temper of hers on him...even I can admit that's peculiar coming from her.

Monseigneur Oliver: I see...

[Organ Begins to Sound, Congregation Stands]

Comte de Montavin: Well...it appears my time has finally...

Comte de Montavin: Run out...

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Shoutout to @buzzardly28 for helping me perfect Giselle's wedding outfit! Such a superstar! <3 )

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 27 (HS)

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

—all chapters of Enticing —

Author’s note: Hello everyone, I know that last chapter I dropped a huge bomb on everyone, and things are just going to continue getting crazier. Anyway, here is another chapter. Please enjoy!

word count 1.9K

“There is no way,” she said to Patrick as she struggled to pull her phone out of her back pocket. “How?” Y/N whispered to herself, and she looked for the app that she used to track her cycle. Her mind trying to remember the last time she had slept with Harry and if they had used a condom. More importantly, she couldn’t remember if she had taken her pill that night. She usually took it after dinner around eight, but they had been so drunk that night.

“When a man and a woman—”

“Shut up, Patrick!” Y/N didn’t need his dry humor at the time. Her mind was cloudy and heard her heartbeat like a drum in her chest. She ran her hands across her face as she no longer left her legs and could only hear her own heartbeat.

“Breath, Y/N” Patrick tried to call her down, seeing that her face had gone pale, and she could barely hold her torso up. “Look at me” He commanded her, “breath just like me”.

“I- I can’t be pregnant,” She said in between heavy breaths, “there is no way. I've always been so careful.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself. No one could deny that she had always been exceptionally careful to drink her pill ever since her mother had put her on it. “I might not be pregnant. My gynecologist always said I would have trouble getting pregnant if I ever wanted to have kids.” It had hurt her to hear it, but she had accepted it. She reminded herself that the doctor had said trouble and not can’t.

“You know what you need to do.” Patrick said, “You need to take a test”.

“What if I am?” She covered her mouth, still shocked that it could be a possibility, “What am I going to do? I am not ready to be a mom! I don’t even have a job!” She explained.

“You are making assumptions based on nothing. First things first let’s go buy you a pregnancy test” Patrick got off the bench, determined to help her best friend figure out her future. He knew that if Y/N were pregnant and decided to have the baby, she would need to contact Harry. Patrick also knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, convincing her to tell him.

They crossed the street to a pharmacy, Y/N walked past the pregnancy test aisle and stopped before it. She stared at the army of them, and she still couldn’t process it all. She decided to buy blue ones that were digital.

“You should take another” Patrick suggested, after he had picked a bunch of snacks and drinks for the night. He knew it was going to be a long one. “In case that one it’s defective”. So, Y/N takes another one with a different mechanism for an answer.

“Patrick,” she said after they had paid and were on their way to the apartment. “I can’t raise a baby on my own.” Patrick hooked arms with her and kissed her head.

“You are not alone” he insisted, “I know you feel very alone because of everything that has happened with Harry, but you still got people around you. Plus, I am sure that Harry wouldn’t let you raise him on your own. He seems like a responsible father”.

Y/N didn’t say anything else until they were back in the warmth of their apartment. She was too busy thinking about Harry’s reaction. Oliver hadn’t even turned a year. He couldn’t possibly want another baby, especially after everything they had said to one another.

Patrick played some music and took all the snacks and placed them on the coffee table. He wanted to set the scene and wanted it to be the least stress-free possible. He was also nervous for her. Patrick had always heard her life plans and none of them involved an unwanted pregnancy. He was also sure that Y/N wouldn’t have the heart to go through an abortion. A guilty conscience would eat her away. It was just the way that she was wired especially after spending so much time with kids.

“Ready?” He asked her as she plopped down on the couch. “To pee on the stick?” he clarified.

“My bladder isn’t full” she pouted, “What are we doing?!”.

“I don’t even know” Patrick exhaled, “But here. Drink up” he handed her a large fruit punch Gatorade.

“Why do I feel like you want me to actually be pregnant?” Y/N asked she took the cap off the drink.

“Because I think you will be a wonderful mother if you are pregnant.” She smiled at her best friend and started to chug the Gatorade. It was actually quite nice. After all the nausea that she had been experiencing, it was very hydrating.

Halfway through drinking it, she left the need to go.

“Here” Patrick handed her the test and allowed her to do her business in the bathroom. After she peed successfully on the stick she paced on the counter after covering it with some paper towels.

“Set a timer for three minutes,” Y/N said as she walked out of the bathroom. Patrick nodded and diligently placed a timer on her phone.

They only needed to wait three minutes, but it felt eternal. Y/N started walking across the room trying to make the time go faster. On the other hand, Patrick just started shoving chips into his mouth, wanting to bite into something crunchy. It was quiet in the room aside from the chips and the soft music playing in the background.

The phone ringing startled them both out of their daze.

“I don't want to look” She confessed as she walked up to the bathroom and exited right back around.

“Do you want me to check for you?” He offered even though his hands were shaking, and he knew he would probably read it wrong and drop it a few times.

“No. This is something I should do” Y/N nodded and took two deep breaths before going to pick it up. Patrick waited for a few minutes for her reaction, but it never came.

“So?” He yelled from the living room, but once again it was dead quiet. So, Patrick pushed the bag of chips off his legs and got up. She was starting there looking at the test over and over again.

Patrick looked over his shoulder and gasped, couldn’t believe his eyes. In his defense, he had never seen a positive test before. It read ‘PREGNANT’ and under said 1–2 weeks.

“Holy shit,” he said under his breath as he wrapped his arms around her front behind.

“Holy shit,” she said too.

Life after Y/N had left a sour taste in his mouth. It had been incredibly hard for everyone in the house.

Harry hadn’t been able to provide the comfort that Y/N gave Oliver, and he had been sleeping horribly since that night. The first few nights Harry had come close to start crying with him. It broke his heart to see his son so distraught about losing his favorite person. Sometimes, he felt like Oliver was more her son than his because he certainly preferred her over him. Things eventually got easier; Harry made sure to follow his schedule, handwritten by Y/N that was posted on the fridge.

However, even if Oliver started adapting to her absence from Harry things got worse. The void that Y/N had felt in his life was more than noticeable. He would lay in bed and turn to his side and could only remember how she would shuffle her body closer to his in search of heat in the middle of the night. He hated waking up to an empty bed. The apartment was cold and lifeless.

“Mr. Styles?” Andrew said as he entered his office with a tray with his favorite breakfast. Harry held his head with his hands, while his elbows rested on his desk. He exhaled loudly and pulled his head up. “How about some breakfast?”

“Thank you, Andrew,” he said to him as he placed the tray on his desk. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew that Andrew was just trying to lift his mood a little. He had never seen him so heartbroken and even though Andrew hadn’t seen him shed a tear, he could tell that he was going through a rough moment. The bag under his eyes, the loss of appetite, the long hours working, and the fact that his suits were hanging off him since he had stopped going to the gym because of lack of energy.

“If you don’t mind me, speaking out of topic here” he carefully said, “perhaps you should give her a call? Or reach out to her? And she is just waiting for you.” Harry pursed his lips and Andrew thought that he was going to yell at him or fire him. He had been very on edge ever since they returned from Italy for obvious reasons.

“I’ve already called her, Andrew. Unfortunately, it seems like she had blocked me from reaching her which only means she wants nothing to do with me.” Harry attempted to call her the next day after their breakup. He wanted to talk to her and apologize for asking like a maniac, but the call never went through. Harry went through Instagram, but he was blocked there too, and on every social media. So, he recurred to an email even though he knew that she never checked them.

Andrew frowned and couldn't believe the extent that Y/N had gone to shut him out of her life. He personally didn’t know what he had done to anger her in that way, so he couldn’t speculate. He just couldn’t believe that the love that they had for one another had banished so quickly and so easily. Andrew was just sure of one thing and that was that Harry loved her endlessly and that he would forgive him in a heartbeat.

It was the next morning after Y/N had found out that she was pregnant when she received an email to her work email. The email had woken her up from her slumber. Patrick had decided to take a personal day, to take care of Y/N since he knew that she was struggling emotionally. And luckily, he stayed because the email that she had just received destabilized her emotionally.

“What happened?” Patrick ran to her room as she heard her sobbing uncontrollably.

Y/N handed him her phone, showing her an email that the nanny agency had sent her after she had applied to another family.

“Dear Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for submitting your interest in working for the Sinclair family. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to give you this job or any other job of this kind in the upcoming future. It has come to our attention that you have had an interpersonal relationship with the father of the last family assigned. May we remind you that it’s a violation of the code of conduct of our employees and therefore we will be terminating your contract with our agency. We wish you the best.”

“What have I gotten myself into Patrick?” She sobbed as the tears streamed down her face...

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[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 27: Oliver's Delivery

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control

The next two evenings passed too slowly and too quickly at the same time.

Oliver was charged to remain in Miss Lily's room with Miriam, while Miss Lily finished up work at the auction house. She left him with little entertainment save a stack of magazines, but the room also contained a radio, a luxury he didn't have at home.

Home. Would he ever see it again? Or was Lord Alexander's house his home for the rest of his life, now? Would he be locked in a single room, a prisoner, never emerging except at his new master's behest, or maybe not at all? Was he even still a person, or was he simply a food source? And if it was the latter... food sources didn't need enrichment or entertainment, no more than you might bring a loaf of bread or a hunk of cheese with you on a walk.

He might never see anything but the inside of a single room at a vampire's mansion for the rest of his pathetic life, and there was so little he could do about it. Miss Lily and Lord Alexander could both control his mind effortlessly. They made him want to obey. And he felt so torn inside, his desire to obey at odds with his lingering sentiment toward his old life.

Miriam wasn't particularly forthcoming with information. She spent the bulk of her nights either sleeping or embroidering, but she didn't seem to mind when Oliver switched on the radio. It had quickly become obvious that her memory and focus were both patchy, and any questioning about Miss Lily or her life as a thrall was met with uncritical gushing. Besides, Lord Alexander was clearly quite different from Miss Lily, so any information gleaned from her was of limited use at best.

He'd know soon enough, when he was delivered to Lord Alexander's house, and what an awkward moment that would be, when the two of them were alone. No longer bookseller and patron, but master and thrall. 

He tried to push all the worst possibilities out of his head. Lord Alexander chaining him in a basement. Lord Alexander whipping or beating him if he weren't obedient enough. Lord Alexander shattering his mind with his hypnotic powers. He wouldn't have thought the quiet, studious man to be capable of any of those things -- but he wouldn't have thought he was capable of buying and keeping a human being, either.

And what if the purchase fell through? What if Lord Alexander changed his mind? The next highest bidder was Lord Jameson. Oliver's memories of that encounter were muddled, but he could still recall his cruel eyes and his threats. His worst nightmare.

On the third evening, Oliver had only just woken up, anxious thoughts already clouding his mind. Miriam was still fast asleep, so he didn't want to turn the radio on. Instead, he went into the bathroom and took a nice, long, hot shower to calm himself. He hoped that he had a shower where he was going. It made everything far more bearable.

Oliver had no sooner put on his soft white thrall's dress and emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, when Miss Lily bounded into the room. She was holding a small cardboard box."The check cleared! We're in the money!"

"Oh, wonderful!" said Miriam, clapping her hands.

"And the sun's only just set, so we have plenty of time to deliver you to Lord Alexander tonight, Oliver. We'll set out in my car just after breakfast." She set the box down on the bed. "Here are your personal affects. They'll come with us. And you'll probably want to put your shoes on."

Oliver peered in the box. His shoes were in the bottom of it -- he hadn't worn shoes since the night he was kidnapped. His belt was neatly folded on top, and his pocket watch and chain were tucked into one of the shoes. He hadn't expected to see any of these things again, especially not his pocket watch.

He could barely keep breakfast down once it arrived, nerves on edge. In the blink of an eye, he was putting on his shoes and saying farewell to Miriam, who was staying in the room while Miss Lily made her delivery.

As though I'm a parcel, he thought, half-expecting Miss Lily to wrap him in paper or bind him with twine. Instead, she indicated for him to follow as they navigated the now very quiet auction house. A few dead-eyed thralls passed with trays of breakfast, not paying them any mind, and Oliver spotted Miss Cecily, the vampire who had processed him in. She gave him a curt nod.

Soon enough, they were in the underground garage, and Oliver was bundled into the passenger seat of Miss Lily's car. Oliver leaned his head against the window and watched the countryside give way to clusters of houses and finally to the city proper. Last time he'd been in a car, he'd been trying to escape through a drugged haze; this time, he had no desire to resist.

He thought about asking Miss Lily questions, but it seemed pointless now. He'd know what his life would be like soon enough, and he'd rather enjoy the scenery out of the car window, just in case he ended up imprisoned permanently.

As the car turned down city streets, he saw the ordinary bustle of early evening. Tired looking people making their way home from work, shops serving the last of their customers, bars and dives beginning to fill with their usuals, couples walking along the street arm-in-arm. Such a familiar sight after all his time spent in the bizarre world of vampires.

And he was suddenly filled with regrets. He might never do any of that again, even something as simple as going to the shop, never mind falling in love. He'd always just stayed in his bookshop, living a quiet life, waiting for something to happen, thinking of the things he might do someday. He hadn't pursued romance, he hadn't traveled, he'd only dabbled in learning new skills. He hadn't pursued what he wanted -- he didn't even know what he wanted. He hadn't appreciated how precious his time was until it was too late.

Maybe he really was meant to be a vampire's blood source. Better someone like him than someone living a vibrant life to its fullest. 

Oliver was roughly jolted out of his thoughts as Miss Lily attempted to park the car, hitting the curb and ending up with the car partially on the sidewalk. He opened his mouth to say something but then decided that if Miss Lily wanted to risk a parking ticket, that really wasn't his business.

They were parked in front of a brick mansion, three stories high and with two wings, in the oldest and wealthiest part of downtown. The windows were all blocked with thick curtains, and the lawn was sparse but reasonably kept. A wrought-iron fence separated the mansion from the street.

This was it, then. His new home.

Miss Lily showed no hesitation in marching Oliver up to the door and knocking. She smiled serenely while they waited for an answer, all the while Oliver's hands shook and his knees turned to jelly.

It's only Alexander, he reminded himself. You know him. You've talked to him on many occasions. It's only Alexander, who was secretly a terrifying vampire lord, who now owns you.

Oliver's trembling grew worse.

The door opened. Lord Alexander was wearing a rumpled white button-down shirt, his hair pointing in every direction, his blue eyes tired. "Ah. Come in," he said, his voice and expression as though he were keeping it stoic on purpose. Oliver followed Miss Lily into the mansion's foyer, and the sound of the door closing behind him roared in his ears.

The place was not what he might have expected from a vampire lord's manor, but it is what he might have expected when he thought Lord Alexander was human. The foyer was clean but cluttered, with an overflowing coat and shoe rack near the door and bookcases crammed into every free space. It was illuminated by gas lamps, and Oliver would have found it cozy looking under different circumstances. A carpeted staircase led into a foreboding, darkened loft, and a few hallways and doors branched off the main entrance.

"Welcome, Oliver," said Lord Alexander. "I trust your transport went smoothly? And that Lily treated you well?"

"Oh, yes, sir, very much so," said Oliver.

"Of course I did," Miss Lily added. "What do you take me for? I know how to treat a thrall."

Lord Alexander glared. "Do you even realize what you've done? I told you in no uncertain terms that I wasn't prepared to take a thrall. And you know exactly why."

"What did you expect me to do, then?" Miss Lily rolled her eyes. "Colette was the one who captured and brought him in. I thought he would suit you, and I was right. I had no idea this was a human you were already attached to."

Oliver looked at Miss Lily curiously. Lord Alexander was attached to him? What did that mean?

"You know that our sire will be far too interested in him," said Lord Alexander.

"You worry too much. He barely touched your last thrall."

"My last thrall was specifically chosen to be uninteresting to him. This thrall," he said, pointing accusingly at Oliver but glaring at Miss Lily, "may as well have an electric sign pointing to his head."

Oliver wasn't entirely sure what was being discussed, but it certainly didn't sound favorable to him. "Sir -- if I've done something wrong --"

"You haven't done a thing wrong, Oliver," Lord Alexander immediately reassured him. "It's Lily here who has overstepped. It isn't the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"Excuse me for wanting you to be a little happier," she said in a softer tone. "Look at you. You're exhausted and diminished from drinking nothing but farmed blood for months. You need a fresh human. And this human is ideal for you. He smells delicious, he shares your interests, and he's perfectly fit to be a servant. You need this, Lex."

Lord Alexander looked over to Oliver, anger gone from his expression. "...I know I do. That's not in question. The question is how I keep my sire at bay."

"You'll figure it out," said Lily. "You're a smart boy. I know you've been working on it."

"And you know how little progress I've made lately." Lord Alexander ran his hand through his hair.

"Well, maybe this will light a fire under you."

"I suppose it has to. I don't want anything to happen to..." He trailed off with an anxious glance. "Anyway, I need to get Oliver settled. We should catch up soon. Call on me next week?"

"I will. I'll bring Ruth, too. She missed you back at the auction house, and you've been so damn reclusive," said Lily. "Anyway, I have business back there, so I'll be on my way."

"Indeed."

"Well, good luck, Oliver! Be a good thrall for Alexander, won't you? I'll see you both soon!"

Miss Lily was out the door, and Oliver was now alone with his new master.

Part 26 >> Masterlist >> Part 28

Oliver's arrived at Alexander's house, and your dear author needs to write some more parts because I only have four updates left and I'm trying to be responsible about keeping a backlog. Thanks for reading!

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[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 29

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd, Otis Graves, Lex Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28

Note: Sorry for the long wait guys! I have been suffering from an assortment of medical issues the last couple of months and is still ongoing. I used to be able to do multiple stories in a week, but it just took me two months to come out with this chapter with everything going on. I won't be able to go back to how I was doing things weekly, but I hope to be able to come out with another chapter in a shorter amount of time. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy what happens next!

Kara stared lovingly at Lena sleeping peacefully next to her. She lightly traced with her fingers the freckles along Lena’s back. 

I have never been this happy before!

Kara happily stared at Lena for a couple of minutes until Lena started to stir.

Lena yawned and asked, “Have you been staring at me all night?”

Kara chuckled and said, “No, only for the last half hour.”

Lena turned around so that she was facing Kara and caressed her face.

Lena smirked and asked, “Do you like what you see?”

Kara leaned into Lena to kiss her on the lips which caused Lena to purr in contentment.

After a couple of minutes, Kara leaned back and said, “I enjoyed every breathtaking sight of you.”

Lena blushed and said, “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Kara smirked and said, “I hope amongst other things as well after last night.”

Lena chuckled while she swatted playfully Kara’s arm and said, “You are incorrigible.”

Kara chuckled and cuddled up against Lena and said, “You know you love it.”

Lena smiled while caressing Kara’s face and said, “That I do.”

Lena leaned in and kissed Kara. They held in each other’s embrace until Kara leaned back and sighed. 

As Kara lazily started to trace the freckles along Lena’s shoulder, she said, “If it wasn’t for the STEM panel today, I would stay here with you all day.”

Lena smiled and said, “I would rather stay in bed with you too, but this is a good cause. I am honored that Barry asked me to participate in this.”

Kara smiled and said, “Me too. It is nice to work with Barry on something that doesn’t revolve around a crisis.”

Lena smiled and said, “Hopefully, this is a sign of more things to come. Maybe, Flash and Supergirl could do an event at the hospital.”

Kara pouted and asked, “Getting tired of little old me huh?”

Lena looked at Kara mortified and said, “It is nothing like that…We work so well together….It is just that I was talking to Sam and she suggested maybe building up a rooster of heroes for the hospital especially since you have a friendship with the Flash and possibly the Bat family….I knew I should have kept this thought to myself….Damn it…..”

Kara quickly placed a finger on Lena’s lips which startled her into silence. 

Kara smirked and said, “You are so cute when you are flustered.”

Lena pouted and said, “You’re teasing me aren’t you.”

Kara chuckled while pulling Lena in closer and kissing her on the forehead and said, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist.”

Lena turned away and pouted more. 

Kara chuckled and cuddled Lena closer to her and asked, “Would it make you feel better that I have talked to Barry and members of the Bat-family and they have agreed to help with any event related to the hospital? All they would need is a heads up.”

Lena looked at Kara surprised and asked, “Really?”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “Really. They all see how much good that you are doing in society and want to help.” Kara leaned forward and kissed Lena on the lips and whispered in her ears, “Plus, they see how crazy I am about you.”

Lena blushed and said, “I didn’t realize.”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “I wish you could see  your own brilliance.”

Lena blushed while looking down shyly and said, “Keep saying things like that and I will end up with a big ego.”

Kara chuckled and said, “Let’s just start off by using our collective egos to inspire future girls in STEM.”

As Kara started to get up from the bed, she stretched, put on a robe, and said, “I can make us breakfast while you get ready.”

Lena looked at Kara coyly and said, “Or we could both take a shower together. Save on water and energy.”

Read the rest on AO3