#so obviously they conspired together

[neroushalvaus]

Girl help I have a fix-it in my head for My Shows, La Promesa, also known as Spanish Downton Abbey, a show famously only watched by middle-aged Finnish women

[etheries1015]

He walks in on you touching yourself... (18+ Minors DNI)

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Can be read as established or non-established relationship, completely up to whatever your cup of tea is... (Reader for Azul and the tweels is pretty confident and daring. be warned.) Also not proof read.

TW: Touching himself while watching you masturbate, 'unbeknownst' to you. Being caught, mentions of heat.

Featuring: Lilia (separate) , Azul (separate), and the tweels (together...might be OOC. I don't write for them often wahhhh)

Lilia

It was obvious by the sounds of wetness and low whines ringing through the hall what was conspiring in your bedroom. Lilia had dropped by simply to play some games or to say hello, but was pleasantly greeted by the glorious sight before him after making his way down the hall towards your sleeping chambers. With the door cracked slightly, the red-eyed fae had clear few of your naked body sprawled on your bed, hands working at your groin with such vigor and excitement. Fluids ran down your thighs and a layer of sweat clearly coating your flushed body, telling him you have been at this for quite some time. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk quirking on the side of his lips, he could feel his erection pressing against the cloth of his pants practically begging to be freed.

He had little shame when it came to things of pleasure, he himself thoroughly enjoyed indulging in such activities when time permitted. It's a normal part of life, and although he felt mildly guilty for thinking such things when you were touching yourself unaware of his gaze...all reason left his mind the moment your lips uttered his name in a moan that would have been barely audible for a normal human to hear. His eyes open in surprise with his smirk turning into a dark grin, fangs poking out as he bit his lip and began to slowly unzip his trousers.

Freeing himself from his confines, he watched your fingers eagerly working themselves in your hole and the other teasing the outer parts of your body. He thought to himself how much he wanted to be inside you as his cock twitched, yet also wondering how he could just stand there and watch you get off, knowing it was his image in your mind while you so eagerly found your release. Would he ruin the mood if he opened the door and presented himself at that moment? Would you be embarrassed and no longer in the mood? He slowly began using a hand to pump his cock while he watched you through the crack of the door, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips and lustful eyes watching earnestly as you switch positions. You were so...thorough in the way you touched yourself, Lilia almost found himself envious at your own hands stroking attentively to your sensitive spots rather than him.

The second time you moaned his name, he broke in his resolve of keeping his endeavor behind your door a secret falter rather quickly. Removing his hand from his throbbing and flushed cock and lazily slipping his boxers back over his erection, Lilia allowed his presence to be heard as he creaked the door open. Hearing your movements stop suddenly and a small (and rather adorable) gasp escape your lips, the fae watched as you were quick to cover up with the sheets and face flushed a deep scarlet that only enhanced his desire to ruin you further.

"Now now~" Lilia purred, "You were so vocal before, moaning my name like an animal in heat..." He crawled onto the bed, leaning towards you as your gaze so obviously flickered from his piercing eyes to the tent in his boxers, taking note of his unzipped pants and wet spot that soaked through the cloth. His hand quickly grabbed your cheeks and lifted your gaze to his, lips crashing against yours.

"How about you moan for me again, my precious bat? Hmm? I wonder just how loud I could get you the mewl when rather than your fingers, it's my cock buried deep inside you..."

Azul

Azul had noticed something was awry when you weren't there to greet him immediately at the entrance of Ramshackle. The door had been unlocked, almost as if inviting him right in without a worry in the world. He often scolded you for such acts, being rather wary of intruders himself and understanding your disposition of being the sole human in the dorm, he was certain to give you a lecture as he often had.

Walking deeper into the dorm attempting to find you, he could smell something sweet and alluring, something that slowly yet almost simultaneously left his cheeks flushing a slight tint of pink and skin moist with heat at the touch. It was almost a sickening sweet smell- something that he was familiar with only by the definitions of the textbooks.

Heat. Someone was in heat, he could feel it affecting him as such. He took a gulp as his instincts left him wandering mindlessly to the source, hearing the feeble pants of a familiar voice and the sound of wet and sticky skin filling the air as he came closer to the source of the sickeningly sweet scent. Azul began trembling as if he were entering some sort of forbidden den in which he should not be entering. He noticed at the end of the hall a door open, wider than one may think should be. Curious and trembling with anticipation, the merman peaked his head through the rather wide crack of the door, stumbling upon a rather...interesting scene.

He couldn't help but let out an audible gasp, eyes widening before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking away. He pressed his back against the wall, looking down at the clear erection that poked at the cloth of his dress pants. It hurt almost, enough that Azul found himself almost unable to move with the itching need to unzip his pants and release himself of this burning sensation immediately. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see what he had just witnessed...the beloved prefect, someone who was well respected and known around the campus, legs wide on top of the blankets for anyone to see as your fingers buried deep inside your hole with your other hand twisting your hardened nipple. Your hair was a sweaty tangled mess, mouth open lips glistening with drool and lust.

Azul was not used to such erotic behaviors being so close and in eyeshot of him, much less affecting him the way you seemed to be. He couldn't help but guiltily open his eyes and glance again, watching through the cracked door and rubbing his legs uncomfortably. He let out a deep sigh as his hands moved with a mind of their own, dipping the inside of his pants and boxers in an attempt to stroke himself for some sort of release of the discomfort his hardened cock had caused. He watched you with his mouth ajar, his heart pounding so loud he almost feared you would hear it. Your moans began to become louder, almost as if...on purpose. Azul continued to rub his shaft with hesitant and trembling hands, before a moment passed and it seemed...like you two had made eye contact.

It was almost a split second, where he felt as if your gaze had locked onto his through the door. Yet you turned your attention back to your naked body, a sly smile crawling onto your lips. That split second cause his heart to drop straight into the pit of his stomach with guilt, yet at the same time such risk left his body trembling as he used one hand to muffle a high pitched whine that escaped his lips as he shamefully finished in his pants almost as quickly as he had begun. With legs that were shaking and a heart beating so rapid he felt it would pop out of his chest at any second, the merman pursed his lips and wiped his brow, finally finding the courage to use his legs to make a hasty exit...you were quick to interrupt his escape.

"Awwee...did you cum already, Azul?" He froze as you called his name, Azul letting out a yelp of surprise and hung his head low in almost shame.

"No need to be shy," You called out, "Come here. Let your prefect take care of our pretty little octopus..."

Jade + Floyd

You were a brazen soul, something that both Jade and Floyd would admire. Often times your brave endeavors left them astonished and intrigued all the same. The three of you were doing your weekly movie night, but the two could already tell something was different in your actions. The way you would rub your legs together and the sweet scent wafting off of your figure left the two side-eyeing each other with knowing intent. The movie was the last thing on your mind, for under the sheets the warmth that was leaving your bottom half aching with desire left your hands wandering beneath the blankets almost unable to hold back your urges.

"Are you alright?" Jade inquired, watching your focused face flush as you looked up at him with surprise at the question. He looked down at you almost knowingly, his typical smile leaving you unaware of the thoughts that were behind those eyes. You gave him a slight smile and a nod of your head, burying yourself deeper in the sheets and halting your hands from going beneath the cloth of your pants like you so desperately wanted to. A few moments of the movie going on, and you were vividly aware of where each of the twins were on both sides of you.

Floyd was brazenly wrapping an arm from behind your shoulders, while Jade sat with one of your legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket. You found yourself throbbing more intensely below the pile of warm blankets, the heat becoming far more unbearable as your hands began to snake underneath the blankets and into your pants with no self-control and little regard for the two attractive men who were accompanying you. You pursed your lips and inched your fingers toward your groin, a needy sigh escaping your trembling lips as you began to slowly gratify yourself careful not to be loud or obvious. You couldn't help it, you were so desperately seeking release, and patience wasn't always one of your strong suits.

This went on for a mere minute before a hand landed on top of yours through the mountain of cloth that separated your skin from his hand, Jades face peering closer to yours with eyes glinting with mischief as his nose pressed against yours. "You're rather distracted," Jade hummed, eyes closing as he disregarded the movie that was still playing, "If I remove these blankets, what do you think we will see? Hmm? Something naughty?" you gave a shy nod in response, almost as if testing them to see if their blatant words would become materialized in something more. He glanced up to his brother, Floyd who had a wide toothy grin and a tilt of his head. He moved forward to take a whiff of you, his own cheeks becoming flushed a deep scarlet color while pulling you closer to his side.

"little Shrimpy is in heeatt..." Floyd sang, "I didn't know humans can get that, too. But it's sweet, real sweet," He purred. Jade moved away from you, inching the blanket off of your body to reveal yourself with legs held together and hands taken away from pleasuring your sensitive spot. At the same time, You could hear the unzipping of pants as they both released themselves from their pants, you watched in excitement and lustful eyes as the eels began doing as you had done, shamelessly and brazenly touching themselves with little regard for the place and company they were in. The twins encouraged you by each using a hand to grab a knee and spread your legs open, showing your arousal as your own hands twitched with anticipation and neediness. Shy at the whole endeavor, you found yourself hesitating despite their eagerness.

"Don't get shy now," Jade said, beginning to stroke himself and urging you to do the same.

"Yeah, You started this," Floyd pointed out, "let's have fun together...isn't that the whole point?"

"You must be trying so hard to hold back, aren't you? Let it all go...you're good at surprising us, and were so desperate a mere moment ago.... So go on, give us a show."

[ginevrapng]

you're alone with james in his room, lying in his bed and playing with his hair while he's laying his head on you. you've always loved playing with his hair and he's always loved you playing with it, he finds it relaxing and his hair is so silky and soft.

one of the many perks of him being head boy is that he has a separate room so he doesn't have to dorm with people anymore. he doesn't think there's a problem with sharing a room with his friends but when you used to come up to his room to spend time with him someone else would always be there talking to you, stealing your attention. he could handle when remus or sirius brought people back for the night with simple silencing charms and closing of the curtains but it was a different story when he wanted to see only you and instead you included everyone in the conversations you were having, you might have even ended up on one of the others bed. he wanted you all to himself. now that he's head boy he's gotten his wish and he gets all your attention.

james is so comfortable he could fall asleep. with the combination of you playing with his messy hair, him getting to feel your warmth and your cute squishy tummy underneath his head, he's in heaven. there's no place he'd rather be than with you.

you can tell that james is close to falling asleep due to him starting to talk less and when he does he does it languidly. "mmph, you're so comfy and soft."

you giggle at that, " 'm glad to hear it jamie. y'know if you end up falling asleep i'll do the same."

as you say that you hear sirius swinging the door open, followed by remus and peter. james grumbles at the noise and turns his head away from the door so he's laying with his cheek pressed up against you and nuzzles you. "you should of knocked sirius," remus scolds him.

"oh, give over. it's not like they were doing anything," sirius retorts.

james grabs hold of your waist tightly, silently wishing for them to leave and him to be able to continue nearly falling asleep on you. "yeah sirius, next time knock." james' heart beats quickly and his breathing hitches. is this a confession? "we could of been talking shit about you or conspiring against you." james wants to feel let down that it's not a confession about how you might have been together in ways that would constitute a silencing charm and closing of curtains, but he can't, you're so cute, just so very you, he laughs and true smile appears on his face, where his eyes crinkle at the corners with cheeks raised high.

"you may have forgotten prongs, because obviously i so rudely interrupted you, but we've got a prank planned with snivellus right now," sirius looks at you both and smirks.

"i thought you've been more careful with your pranks recently guys. why are you pranking snape?" you sit up and look at them all.

"because, my dear, snivellus deserves it," sirius replies leaning against the wall. james narrows his eyes at the term of endearment sirius called you, it went unnoticed by you but sirius noticed and smirked again.

you roll your eyes at 'snivellus deserves it', snape always deserves it but james said he'd try and be more careful this year since he's been appointed head boy and remus is a prefect as well. they said if they're going to be pulling anymore pranks they'll be more discrete but you don't think it will be discrete with the way sirius is talking.

"it was james' idea actually," remus adds on.

james sits up and he comes to his own defence quickly, "he a thousand percent deserves it this time."

you cross your arms and look at him annoyance, "you're not going to tell me why this time are you?"

"no, but you'll have to believe me on this." you grab hold of his arm and pout before dramatically falling back on the bed. james grins again as he takes that as a yes and pulls you back up. "are you gonna stay here until after 'm back?"

you shake your head and shuffle closer to him, " it's getting late jamie, i'm going back to m' dorm."

he thought you'd say that but he also had hoped that you'd stay and he'd come back with you asleep in his bed. "alright love, see you tomorrow morning?"

you nod you head and kiss his cheek before getting up, "night everyone, night jamie. please try not to get into any trouble tonight."

"can't make any promises," sirius tells you before remus whacks his arm.

"we'll be fine," peter reassures you.

"yeah, i'll keep everyone in check," remus tells you.

they successfully carried out their prank that night without getting caught. that morning you see snape with bright pink hair and the marauders grinning brightly. james grins the most, payback for calling my best friend someone you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot broomstick when rosier asked if you liked her and were friends. like she'd ever, EVER want to be friends with you, like she'd ever, EVER even tolerate you.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant at This Morning show with Alison Hammond and Dermot O’Leary talking about Good Omens Season 2, 11.07.2023 :) ❤

DO: And David joins us now. I mean, this looks like a great show.

David: Oh, yeah.

DO: So, I mean, It's pure Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, isn't it?

David: It is, yeah.

DO: The whole thing. So tell us, so if people haven't seen the first series and they want to go back, set the whole scene.

David: So I'm Hell's representative on Earth, Michael Sheen is Heaven's representative on Earth, put there to do the biding of our respective Head Offices. But we found out that if we became mates and sort of helped each other out, it kind of cut out the workload, cancelled each other out. So we're best mates. But in Series One we end up having to avert the apocalypse, which we managed to do, but as a result of that, we get cut off. So we're now living on Earth as independent individuals.

AH: So do you still need each other, then?

David: We still need each other. We've only got each other now because we don't have Heaven and Hell anymore.

DO: Because you both love earth so much, you both like.

David: Oh, we much prefer living on Earth because Heaven's a bit stuffy and Hell's awful.

DO: So you conspire to thwart the Armageddon. Exactly.

David: We thwart the Armageddon. That's fine. But Series Two begins when the angel Gabriel, Jon Hamm, who you just saw there, shows up at Aziraphale, Michael Sheen's bookshop, naked with no memory, holding a cardboard box. So suddenly we're locked into the politics of Heaven and Hell again. We don't know what's going on. We've got a mystery to solve. Why is the angel Gabriel here? The angel Gabriel tried to kill us both at the end of the last series, so we've got to...

DO: But now he's kind of got amnesia and...

David: Yes. So he becomes like our weird child, in this sort of weird sort of eternal marriage that Michael and I are locked in.

DO: So many shows now use a book as their base and then they do really well and you can see the company and the writers go, better come up some new ideas, I suppose. So the book's obviously Terry Pratchett and then Neil Gaiman, correct?

David: That's right. They wrote that together years and years and years ago. Much beloved. And that's what the first series was. But Neil and Terry had always talked about possibilities of this sequel that they never got around to making. Terry's no longer with us. But when the possibility came up, Neil thought, well, listen, I've got some ideas. Let's spin it forward. Let's see if we can tell the story we were always going to tell. So we get to come back.

AH: Should we have a little sneak look at the new series? Let's have a look. So good. Did you ever think it was going to be this successful? Did you even know that you were going to go into a second series

David: Oh, no, not at all. No. There was only one novel, so we just thought we were coming together to do that. And I didn't realise how beloved this book was. I first read a script. But it means a lot to a lot of people.

AH: And the look of you is so striking. Did you have any input into that? A bit, yeah, we sort of all found it together, myself and makeup and costume and Neil Gaiman, who ran the show. So, yeah, we kind of arrived... in the book he's a bit more - because obviously the book was sort of early ninetues, so he was a bit more sharp-suited and a bit more Wolf of Wall Street. So we've kind of had to find the kind of modern equivalent of that.

DO: Is he... obviously you're playing a demon. Has he got any humanity in him or is he purely self-centered?

David: Well, he's not a very good demon. He's good at sort of the snarl and the swagger and pretending that he's terribly cynical, but actually his problem is that he's a bit too...  there’s a bit too much heart, really.

DO: He's alright

David: Yeah, yeah.

DO: Must be wonderful playing a baddie.

David: Oh, it's great fun, but he's not a baddie, is not really a baddie.

DO: Yeah, yeah.

David: And just like Aziraphale angel is not always as goody goody as he likes it, so they meet very beautifully in the middle.

DO: You and Michael Sheen. I mean, you've worked together a fair bit, don't you. I loved Staged. That was such fun.

David: Yeah!

AH: Have you ever not worked together?

David: Now we only work together.

AH: All the time.

David: Yeah. I mean, He's not sitting on this sofa, but he is backstage. We can't be apart.

DO: He's speaking in his ear right now.

David: Exactly, yeah.

AH: But you are... you have got a genuine friendship. You're growing old together gracefully.

David: We're growing old together?!

AH: You look good for it, I'm not going to lie. What's the secret, babe?

David: A lot of makeup. It's very thick.

AH: We've got to talk about the fact that you are returning to Doctor Who.

David: Ah, yes.

AH: I can't believe this. And can you tell us anything at all?

David: I mean, beyond that I'm doing it? I think...

AH: No.

David: Really. Because that's the fun of it, isn't it? Hopefully tt was a bit of a surprise when I showed up. When Jodie Whittaker regenerated into me.

AH: We were shocked.

David: It was a bit of a surprise, so we wanted to sort of keep some shocks, but Catherine Tate's back, so it's a bit like 15 years never happened, to be honest.

DO: Know about it for a while. Like... did Russell T get in touch and say...

David: Yeah, it sort of gradually kind of evolved as an idea and we thought maybe they'd let us do a one off for old time's sake. And then suddenly it became a bit more than that and we were back for a bit of a run.

AH: So how many episodes did you get to do?

David: We did three.

AH: Wow. That's incredible. What's it like to be back? Did he just slot straight back in?

David: I mean, sort of. It felt weirdly familiar. Yeah. And you think, 'Oh, will I still able to run as fast? Can I still kind of...?' But it was like we'd never been away. It was joyous. Yeah.

DO: And could we talk about your son? Because is your son in Good Omens with you?

David: Ty's in... has a part in Episode Two of Good Omens.

AH: Is he?

DO: And I loved him in House of the Dragon.

David: I know. He's very good. He's very good.

DO: What a relief.

David: There he is. I know, what a relief. Exactly. No, I mean...

AH: Imagine if he was bad.

David: Imagine if he was rubbish. How would we tell him? Sit down, listen...I know it's sort of the family business, but maybe joinery? So... no, he's really good. And he's annoyingly good looking. You know, he's just got it all. So it's lovely and great to get to work together. Brilliant.

[shuenkio]

I only need you | 💕 chulso.

Paring: Ni-ki x male!reader

Genre: Fluff, enemies (not really) to lover trope.

Cw: brat word.

Summary: He wants you but he is denying when you are there for him.

Non proof read/wc:1.0k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

A|N: I know I have written a lot of school tropes but I'm still writing here with him, also I wrote this in my sleep so... It's a lil cringe.

Befriending the bad boy, Ni-ki, was your worst mistake. But that wasn't the end of it. The universe seemed to conspire to keep the two of you together, making it impossible to escape each other.Was it fate or coincidence? It didn’t matter, because wherever you went, Ni-ki was always there too.

Not only have you been classmates with him for five years, but even in 12th grade, he’s still there. Your name and his always seem to be side by side for a reason. It’s a good thing neither of you are the top students vying for the top spot on the board, but that doesn’t mean your friendship with him is all sweet and nice.

Behind it all, you hate his aura and the way he acts towards you. Some days, he annoys you non-stop, never letting you breathe or relax. Other days, he's unexpectedly nice, giving you free snacks or leaving his lunch under your desk. Mixed signals. Despite all the things you hate about Ni-ki, he's the opposite of you.

He might act all tough and come across as an annoying loser toward you, but deep down, he craves your attention. Yet, did he have the courage to confess that to you? Who would be foolish enough to reveal their true feelings to their one and only friend and crush, especially someone they are so close to? Such a confession could change everything. He prefers to keep things low-key, which is why he sometimes does things that send those strange, fluttering sensations through your stomach. Instead of words, he leaves his feelings in the little gestures—a snack here, a lunchbox there, or a fleeting touch that lingers longer than it should.

One day, he accidentally fell down the stairs, sustaining minor injuries to his leg and nose. Ni-ki was swiftly sent to the nurse's office, and the news spread through the classroom like wildfire. You dismissed it as just another instance of his clumsiness, thinking there was nothing to worry about. However, when a friend told you that Ni-ki needed you and was refusing treatment from the nurse, you quickly denied any involvement and refused to be his caretaker.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the nurse's office, having been dragged there by your friends after a few stern lectures from them. You can't fathom why they care so much about him that they would go to such lengths to pull you out of class and deposit you here. All you get from them is a simple, "He needs you." Out of all people, it had to be you? You sigh, feeling the weight of their expectations. With a resigned breath, you push yourself to go in, deciding to repay him for all the small kindnesses he's shown you—the snacks, obviously.

You reluctantly step inside, fearing your friends' teasing if you don’t. As you approach Ni-ki, you see him lying on the bed with an ice bag on his leg, stubbornly refusing treatment. Standing face to face with him, you can't hide your disbelief as you question why he’s acting like a child. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks flushing a soft red. It feels like you've hit a nerve. Taking a deep breath, you hop onto the bed and sit beside his waist, folding your hands together like an exasperated parent.

"Yo, what's this all about?" you ask, avoiding his eyes, knowing you'd be mortified if you did.

"I didn't call you an idiot; those students made it up," Ni-ki mumbles, his lips tight, refusing to admit the truth. An uncomfortable silence fills the room. As you glance around for the nurse, your eyes land on a male nurse, and suddenly, everything clicks.

"You should’ve told me sooner; why are you acting all tough?" you say, leaving the bed to discuss the situation with the nurse. Ni-ki strains to eavesdrop, but all he hears is unintelligible murmuring, as if he were listening to white noise. He furrows his brows, trying to process what’s happening, replaying memories in his mind, but finding no clue about your next move.

With a cold smirk and an evil gaze, you roll up your sleeves and approach him. A chill runs down his spine as he gulps, attempting to muster rage, but failing miserably. He's speechless as you wrap your arms around his torso, cupping his face to keep his focus on you. Distracting him, you allow the nurse to examine and treat his leg without any tantrums from this ungrateful brat.

"Look at me, Ni-ki. Don’t you see? I'm right here. Don’t you like it?" you say, cringing internally, but knowing it's the quickest way to get through this. Ni-ki's world seems to stop as he looks into your eyes, captivated by your face. He acts cool and bratty to avoid being babied, but with you, it’s different.Since childhood, he’s been terrified of male doctors and nurses after a wrong injection left him bedridden for a month.

You witnessed it, and your memory clicks, understanding his behavior.

"*Sigh, if you're scared, just hug me or squeeze my hand, Chulso. Don’t think twice," you reassure. His tongue tied, your use of his old nickname makes him choke up even more. Without a word, his eyes widen, and he buries his face in your chest, pulling you closer in a swift motion, hugging your waistband affectionately.

"Ashh, you know too much about me."

"We're more than friends, Chulso; I’ve even seen you naked before," you tease.

"Don’t even start. And yes, I could make our friendship more than that."

"You switch quickly, I see. But what else do you have? Nothing surprises me."

"I'm going to make everyone believe you're my boyfriend from now on."

"What are you saying?"

"You two should get a room, you kids"

the nurse interjects.

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to the owner of dividers: Anitalenia

🗣️ I admit I use chat gpt for more visualize (my idea is purely mine, only add small visualize&better words) because... I'm suck, (sorry not sorry)

[its-time-to-write]

I saw you asked for requests a few days ago. I was wondering if you would consider doing another part of the Kent!reader x Jamie fics.

I was thinking they do end up pregnant and its them telling everyone they’re pregnant . I can see everyone being so excited for them. And then Roy is just freaking out.

Since they’ve already discussed wanting to be together forever and have kids I can also see them deciding to get married before the baby is born in a small ceremony like Beard had.

I have quite a few requests about Jamie x reader having a kid, so if that ain’t your jam, maybe don’t read my next few posts😂 It’s totally my jam tho, maybe bc I’m suffering from baby fever again. thanks for requesting and for your patience!!

let’s fall in love for the night  

Jamie’s jiggling his leg up and down so fast that you’re surprised he hasn’t cramped yet. 

“Calm down,” you hiss, hand on his knee. 

“Can’t,” he whispers back. “Roy’s gonna fucking kill me.”  

You have no sympathy for him. “Yeah, and whose fault is that? Yours.”

Jamie shoots you a sideways glance. “Excuse me, this was a team effort.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I still say it’s your fault.”

Molly swoops by to refill your water glasses. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Roy and Phoebe have been working very hard,” she says. 

She raises her eyebrows on the word very, and you’re sure that Roy’s patience is being pushed to his limits. He loves cooking and refuses to let anyone help him, but he also loves your niece and can’t deny her anything she wants. 

“Better go check on them,” she says, leaving you and Jamie alone again in the backyard. 

Jamie resumes the previous conversation and says, “Well, I wasn’t the one wearing that blue thing with the flowers.”

“Well obviously,” you shoot back, “it wouldn’t even fit you.”

Jamie’s stopped jiggling his leg and he places his hand on top of yours. “Oi. Has Roy ever actually killed anyone before, or does he just have serial killer eyebrows?”

You wrinkle your nose and ask, “Why the fuck would I know?”

“You’re his sister,” Jamie replies in Phoebe’s patented duh tone. 

“I’m his baby sister,” you say. “I’m even younger than Molly. If he’s killed someone, they’ve both conspired to make sure I’ll never find out. And hey, don’t make fun of the eyebrows. There’s a good chance this baby’s gonna end up with them.”

“Babe you don’t have ‘em,” Jamie points out. 

“I wax,” you say smugly. “Oh, Molly texted. Time to go inside.”

Jamie groans but lets you lead him to the table. 

—

All told, Phoebe didn’t do half bad. 

“Auntie, I did the potatoes all by myself,” she says. 

You look to Roy for confirmation. He grunts and gives a tiny nod. 

“Great job, Phoebs,” you say. 

Molly sets down her fork. “I’ve been thinking of changing my name back to ‘Kent,’” she says. 

“Brill,” says Jamie. 

“Fucking finally,” Roy says as he hands Phoebe some money. “For future words,” he mouths to her as she counts it before depositing what you’re pretty sure is 20 quid into her pocket. 

Molly says, “We’ll all be the Kents again,” and you can feel Jamie go stiff next to you.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy asks, and you turn to see Jamie’s gone completely pale. 

You pinch his thigh and he jumps. “Nothing,” he says hurriedly. “Well, not nothing. But, I dunno, don’t want to overshadow Molls’s good news, ya know? It ain’t important.”

You pinch him again. 

“Ok, it’s actually a little fucking important (sorry Phoebe, take it from Roy). But um, maybe you could help me babe?”

He shoots you a pleading look so you take pity on him. You’ve had more than twenty years dealing with Roy, so you’ll let Jamie slide this once.

“Right, so, we’ve been meaning to tell you- I’m having a baby,” you blurt out. 

Roy’s dinner roll gets crushed in his hand as his face goes bright red. 

“What,” he growls, and you’re not sure if you’re more terrified by the absence of “fuck”s or the fact that it was a statement, not a question. 

“That’s wonderful, love!” Molly says before Roy can say anything else. She’s not looking at him but you can practically feel him take psychic damage from the shut up and be happy you prick, message she’s sure to be telepathically sending him. 

“It’s Jamie’s, right?” she continues, taking a bite of salad. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” you ask indignantly. “Who else’s would it be?”

“You don’t have to pay me for that one,” Phoebe pipes up. “I’ll give you a free tab of one hundred words because of the baby. If it’s a girl, you can have fifty more.”

You grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You’re probably going to owe her the fifty, Phoebs,” Molly says. She points to Jamie with her fork. “I mean, look at him. He practically screams ‘girl dad.’” 

“That’s- fucking- great,” Roy garbles out. “‘Scuse me.”

“We’re having a backyard wedding next Saturday, too,” you call after him. “So we probably won’t all be the Kents again.”

You wince as he slams a door from somewhere in the house. 

“He’ll come ‘round,” Molly says consolingly. “Remember how he was with Phoebe? And I was already married!”

You grip Jamie’s hand. “Molls, why can’t he just emote like a regular person? I mean honestly, did our parents fuck him up that bad?”

Molly raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, babe. Think he’s just like us, really, afraid of loving something so he just pushes it all away. And besides, you’re the baby of the family. We’ve always tried to protect you and keep you safe, and sometimes he feels like you’re out of reach.”

You ask, “He told you that?” and Molly just laughs. 

“Not in so many words,” she replies. “But you know how he is.”

“He’s an arsehole,” you grumble. “I’m going to go talk to him.

—

Roy is, predictably, in the backyard. Not many places for him to go and think properly. 

You find him sitting under the tree. 

“Oi,” you say, “budge over.”

He grunts and moves so you’re not quite in the dirt. 

“Can you be sitting on the ground?” he asks. 

“It’s been like three months,” you reply, “That isn’t long enough for me to get stuck places.”

Roy says, “hmm,” but doesn’t offer up anything else so you just sit in silence next to him, pressing your shoulder to his. 

“Why the fuck did it have to be Tartt?” he asks after a beat. “Could’ve been fucking anyone in the fucking world, and you fucking chose him.”

“You like Jamie,” you say in confusion. 

“I don’t,” Roy replies, “he’s a prick. And a fucking footballer. Why’d you have to go for a fucking good-for-nothing footballer? He can’t even be around for his family when they go through shit because he’s going to be busy scoring fucking meaningless goals or some shit.”

That stings for a moment, but you take a good look at Roy’s face. It’s stoic, but shit if you can’t read it like a book. Blood is blood, and you’re a Kent just like him. 

“This isn’t about him, is it. It’s about you. You think you did a shit job as a brother and an uncle so Jamie’s going to be a shit father.”

“I missed out on a lot,” Roy says hoarsely. “And before you say fucking shit, I’m not fucking crying. So shut the fuck about it.”

You grin and wrap your arms around him. “You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for. Took all my cues from you. And anyway, you’ve been there when it counts. Phoebe fucking adores you, practically attached at the hip you two. And yeah, Molls and I missed you when you were at Sunderland and Chelsea and wherever. But… you came back. We needed you, and you came back. So don’t go projecting your stupid self-image on Jamie, because he’s not like that. And you’re not either, you absolute fucking ape-armed frizzy-haired shit-faced twat.”

Roy huffs out a chuckle. “Ape-arms. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Almost went with ‘camel knees.’ Haven’t used that since I was ten, but I thought it might hit too close to home these days.”

Roy laughs for real this time and tilts his head so it’s resting on yours. “Still fucking weird that my little sister’s having a kid.”

You say, “You’ll get over it. Oh, and don’t wear a goddamn T-shirt on Saturday.”

—

It’s rainy, so the backyard wedding becomes a living room wedding, because who really gives a shit? Richmond have a game tomorrow, but for today they’re in yours and Jamie’s house all dressed up (but still in trainers) laughing and smiling as Dani officiates what you’re sure is your dream wedding. 

It’s not the one you and Molly would’ve giggled about as kids when you sneaked from your bed into hers, but everyone you loves is here. 

For once, Jamie’s house almost seems too small.  

(Dani was the only person you two knew who was ordained or whatever. And hey, could you have picked a happier person for it?)

Molly and Keeley had gone out with you to find a white dress, Sam and Phoebe were the flower-people, and Roy walked you down the stairs to where Jamie was standing with Isaac by his side. 

“I’m not fucking crying,” Roy whispers in your ear. “It’s fucking allergies from being in this prick’s house for too long.”

“It’s my house too,” you remind him. 

Roy just sniffs, pats your hand where it’s tucked into his arm, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

All in all, it was pretty great. 

Gifts range from hair products to restaurant gift cards to designer baby clothes, including a tie-dyed onesie from Phoebe. 

“I have a matching one at home,” she explains. 

But now it’s the evening and everyone is gone except family. 

“Can’t believe my baby’s married,” says a beaming Georgie as she ruffles Jamie’s hair from their place on the couch.

“Can’t believe he attained his childhood goal of marrying into the Kent family,” Molly remarks. 

Jamie grins smugly. “What can I say, I’m a fucking goal-getter.”

You’re snuggled in Jamie’s arms, dress exchanged for a white sweatshirt and sweatpants set, courtesy of Rebecca. 

“I’d’ve had a poster of you on me wall if they made one, babe,” Jamie says. “Better sight than that hairy git.”

Roy just rolls his eyes and says “I’m getting another beer.”

“Can you bring me a piece of cake?” you call after him.

“Me too?” Phoebe asks, looking hopefully at Molly. 

Jamie pats your knee. “Don’t think he heard you, love. I’ll get it for ya. You too, Phoebs.” He shoots a wink in her direction, and she giggles. 

“Oi, grandad,” Jamie says, walking into the kitchen. “Did you hear your sister?”

Roy turns around from the fridge with a menacing look.  

“If she has a single moment of unhappiness, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Jesus, sorry,” Jamie says, hands in the air. “What’s got your knickers all in a twist?”

Fucking Jamie, never able to back down from a good squabble with Roy. 

They’re both keeping their voices down because they know if they got caught, no less than three people would be grabbing them by the ear and yelling. 

They might know this from personal experience. 

Roy says, “She’s my little sister. I’d fucking murder for her, and so would Molly. Always tried to make it easier for her when she missed our parents and shit, but it always fucking got to her anyway. Didn’t help that I fucked off to Sunderland at fucking nine, before she was even fucking born. She’s wanted a family of her own for fucking ages, and if you fuck this up for her they will never. Find. Your body.”

Jamie’s not sure Roy’s ever looked this menacing, which is saying something, because he’s Roy fucking Kent. He always looks menacing. 

So he nods and says quietly, “I ain’t gonna fuck it up, Coach. Had a shit dad too. Always wished he were around, except when he was then he’d get all fuckin’ angry and shit. But… still wanted him, y’know? Weird. Anyway, not gonna be like that with her. I want a family too.”

Roy looks straight into his eyes, looking for the barest hint of insincerity. Jamie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure of this. He’s sure of you. 

Roy says, “Right,” nods once, then claps Jamie on the shoulder right at his phone dings. 

Jamie pulls out his phone to a text from you that reads, pls stop fangirling over my brother. baby wants cake and so does ur mum

He smiles and tries to figure out how to balance three plates at once. 

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

“Ah, yes, here you are, Mr. Munson,” Joanne said, glancing up from her clipboard. Her eyes flicked from Eddie to Steve, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “And what a coincidence, since you two obviously know each other.”

Steve’s heart seemed to skip a beat, his stomach doing a nervous flip. He didn’t dare looking over at Eddie, afraid of what he’d find on the still familiar face. Joanne continued, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “You’re sitting right next to each other. Isn’t that nice?” She looked at them with a bright, expectant expression, as if she’d just announced they’d won some kind of prize.

It wasn’t until they learned they weren’t actually a match that Steve realized just how much he’d been hoping for a fairy tale ending. Him and Eddie, stumbling into each other’s lives again after almost a decade, brought back together by fate and some cosmic joke of the universe. It was the kind of story that only seemed to happen in the cheesy romance movies El loved so much, the ones Steve always claimed he hated but secretly got sucked into. But real life wasn’t like the movies. The only time his life had felt cinematic was during the nightmares of the Upside Down, and he’d had enough of that particular genre.

“Oh…” Eddie’s voice broke through Steve’s thoughts, and he glanced up, startled by the look of genuine disappointment on Eddie’s face. “Are you— I mean, could you, uh, check again? Just in case, y’know?” Eddie stammered, his fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. “Maybe they made a mistake or… or something.”

Joanne dutifully checked her clipboard again, her eyes scanning the page with the same polite smile still fixed on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Everything seems to be in order.”

“Thank you, Joanne,” Steve cut in quickly, before Eddie could press the issue any further. It wasn’t her fault that the universe hadn’t conspired in their favor. “It was still… nice seeing you again, Eds. You look good. I mean, you look well. That’s good,” he stammered, catching himself too late. He needed to end this awkward little scene before it got any worse. “We shouldn’t keep our dates waiting.”

Sure enough, while they’d been caught up in their unexpected reunion, their actual dates had arrived. Steve’s attention shifted to the woman now sitting at his table — she was attractive, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He liked that immediately; she looked relaxed, approachable. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, a dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Eddie said, noticing where Steve’s eyes had gone. He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the metal of his rings cool against Steve’s skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, but… I’m glad I did. You look good, too. Maybe we could, uh, catch up sometime. I’m new in the city, so I’m… you know, available. For whatever, whenever. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”

With a quick, embarrassed grin, Eddie turned away and headed toward his own table, where his date was already waiting. The man was tall, towering over both Steve and Eddie by at least a head, with tattoos snaking up his arms and across his neck. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, but despite his imposing appearance, he had the vibe of a friendly Saint Bernard — big, scruffy, and unexpectedly warm. The way he greeted Eddie, with an excited smile and a hand lingering just a little longer than necessary, suggested he was more than eager to make a good impression.

Something twisted deep in Steve's chest — regret, maybe, or that stubborn, lingering hope he couldn’t quite shake. But he forced himself to turn back to his date, determined to stay in the present. He was here to meet new people, to start fresh. That was the whole point, right?

Good intentions only got him so far, though. As the evening went on, it became harder and harder to keep his focus solely on Lisa, who certainly deserved better. From what Steve could tell, she was a great person — grounded and practical like Nancy, but with a quick wit and an idealism he found refreshing. She’d been signed up by a friend, too, and was still recovering from a past relationship, just like him. Though he didn’t tell her his own “formative heartbreak” was sitting just a few feet away, laughing that deep, infectious laugh Steve used to love so much.

Lisa worked for a non-profit that helped homeless people get back on their feet — too many in Chicago, especially kids, which was her main focus. They were just discussing her dream of having at least two children, a girl and a boy, when Steve felt Eddie’s gaze on him. Eddie’s date had gone to the bathroom, and it seemed like he’d been listening in on their conversation.

Steve’s desire for kids had been one of the main sticking points between him and Eddie. Not because Eddie didn’t like kids — if anything, Eddie adored them. They had practically co-parented Dustin, Lucas, Max, and the rest of the gang, and Eddie had a natural ease with them that had only made Steve fall harder. But Eddie had been convinced they’d never be allowed to adopt — not just because they were two men, but because of the lingering cloud of those old murder accusations, even though they’d been dismissed. No matter how often Steve had reassured him, saying, Sure, I want kids, but I want you more, it hadn’t been enough. He could have been happy just being a godparent to the next generation of kids. And who knew what the future held? The world was changing, more progressive than Eddie gave it credit for.

But it hadn’t helped. When they’d finally called it quits, Eddie had said, “At least now you can find someone to have your six nuggets with.” The words had stung too much for Steve to respond then, but they came back to him now.

“You know, I always wanted kids,” Steve began, looking at Lisa but knowing Eddie could hear him too. “But since I started working as a kindergarten teacher, I realized I don’t necessarily need any of my own. There are so many kids out there who could use some extra love and attention, and I’m happy to be able to give that to them, even if they’re not mine. My best friend always says we don’t have to live by the conventional ideas of family. We can make our own, however we want it to be. And I think she’s right.”

He said it to Lisa, but he hoped Eddie heard the message, too — that some dreams could change shape, and some things could still be possible, even if they didn’t look like what they’d once imagined.

Steve chanced another glance over at Eddie’s table and wasn’t surprised to find Eddie already looking back at him, his gaze intent, like he wanted to say something. But before the moment could lead to anything, Eddie’s date reappeared from the bathroom, and the connection snapped.

With effort, Steve pulled his eyes back to Lisa, who was watching the whole exchange with a puzzled look. She paused, then placed her small hand over his, her touch surprisingly steady.

“That’s a great way of looking at it, Steve,” she said softly. “I think your best friend is right. And trust me, with the work I do, I totally understand. There are so many children out there who need love, support, and attention. You’re a good guy.”

You’re a good guy.

The words echoed in his mind, pulling him back to another time, another place — back to when Eddie had said those very same words. Eddie, who hadn’t known him for more than a few days and who had every reason to hate him after high school. But somehow, Eddie had been the first to see that he had changed, the first to say it out loud, right when Steve needed to hear it most.

It seemed Eddie hadn’t stopped eavesdropping, because at that moment he stood up from his table, heading toward the bathroom. As he passed Steve, his hand brushed against Steve’s shoulder, just a quick squeeze, but enough to feel like a silent message — like Eddie still agreed with the sentiment, even after everything that had happened between them.

Watching Eddie walk away, Steve felt a rush of clarity, a sudden understanding he’d been resisting for too long. This was bullshit, as Nancy would say. All of it. He didn’t want a fresh start or someone new to help him get over his first big love. Maybe that would’ve been the logical thing, the sensible thing to do.

But when had Steve ever listened to anything but his heart? And his heart was screaming at him not to let Eddie slip away again.

Part 4

[notaplaceofhonour]

One of the experiences that really highlighted to me how willing the left can be to turn a blind eye to and gaslight Jews about antisemitism was trying to talk about Michael Jackson’s antisemitism, such as in the song “They Don’t Care About Us”, which was released with the lyrics:

“Jew me, sue me, everybody do me / Kick me, kike me, don't you black or white me.”

I feel like that is shockingly straightforward with how antisemitic it is, both in its specific language (the K-slur & Jew-as-a-verb) and its conspiratorial bent in the context of the whole song. But when it came out and Jews were obviously appalled and spoke out about it, MJ made the standard “but have you considered that accusing me of bigotry offends me?” and “I was taken out of context!” statements that bigots make when they get called out on their bigotry.

As for MJ’s claim that he was taken out of context, here is some context: In 1993, MJ’s relationship with the press deteriorated when they began covering allegations of his child sex abuse. In the midst of this, tabloids ran a lot of scummy, sensationalized headlines—ruthlessly mocking his appearance and eccentricities and even running entirely false stories. This marked a drastic shift in MJ’s lyrics, which began to focus heavily on his victimhood (both real and perceived, often conflating both and tying them to broader social issues), with many of the songs on the next album HIStory (1995) being about this. “They Don’t Care About Us” is on this album. In 2003, there were revelations that Michael Jackson had grown close with members of Nation of Islam (a fringe and antisemitic hate group), and in 2005, Good Morning America aired a phone recording of Michael Jackson calling Jews “leeches”, claiming Jews had targeted him for his wealth, and saying “It’s a conspiracy. Jews do it on purpose”.

This is the context of Michael Jackson singing about being a stand-in for the victims of all kinds of real world oppression like racism and police brutality, and then saying he was being “Jewed” and “kiked”. It came out that he was molesting little kids, and rather than face the music, he tried to dodge responsibility by conflating those allegations with racism and the gross, sensationalist bullshit that tabloids were running on him; he wove all these things together in a narrative that he could use to wrap himself up in victimhood & conspiracy to position himself as not just a martyr, but the very archetype of martyrdom so that the world could, as he sang on the same album in his cover of John Lennon’s song, “Come together, over me.”

The lyrics were later changed to replace “Jew” & “kike” with abstract noise that drowned out the words or repetitions of “sue” & “strike”. But even so, this is still a song, not truly about inequality and injustice, but using inequality and injustice to shield a child molester from responsibility. And the fact that “Jew” can so easily be replaced with “sue”, not simply in sound but in meaning, without disrupting the narrative and tone of the song, belies the fact that Michael Jackson believed himself to be a victim of some sort of conspiracy between “(((The Media)))” and greedy Jewish lawyers.

And yet, trying to talk about this to this day, even with the benefit of hindsight, when it’s pretty well-accepted that MJ was in fact a child molester and knowing what he said about Jews after this song came out, it is next to impossible to get people to see the antisemitism in him tying together all oppression in the world as him being “Jewed” and “kiked” by (((The System)))—even when he literally says “Jew”, even when he says the K-slur, even when he refers to Jews as blood-suckers, even when he literally says Jews are conspiring against him. When people started using the song as part of the George Floyd protests, and I was like “hey, maybe that’s not a great idea” and gently tried to explain this context, I was ignored, told it didn’t matter because the song was about inequality, told Black people have every right to distrust Jews “because Jews are White” and stabbed Black people in the back by embracing Whiteness, etc. etc.

I think that is one of the times that really started to make it clear to me, “oh, yeah no, leftists can be staring straight at a K-slur in the mouth of a known sex offender and still say it’s fine”—something leftists generally would not do for any other vulnerable minority. It still astounds me.

[badkitty3000]

What did you think was ooc for Five?

Great question, and I have already covered it a bit in my post here, but I could probably yammer on all day about it, so I'll add some thoughts.

Season 1 -3 Five was focused, determined, manic, arrogant, sometimes mean, violent, out-spoken, and full of love for his family above all. Yes, he insulted them and had no time or patience for their shit, but considering everything he'd been through and what he was up against, there was a reason for it. Season 4 Five? Ok, yeah, I can buy that maybe he was depressed and didn't really know what to do with himself anymore. Myself and others have certainly written him that way a few times. But, damn, he spent like all of season 3 bitching about wanting to be retired and here he could be! He could have played the stock market a few times, bought a little place somewhere, picked up a nice lady at the local Bingo hall and lived his peaceful live he deserved. Instead, he works (inexplicably) for the government and just wanders around with his sad little trenchcoat and CIA-issued pistol and flashlight, taking orders from The Man and just...existing I guess. I could see if they made it so that he joined the CIA to get inside info on Reginald and he had spent the last 6 years quietly plotting to take him down and get his revenge or set the world straight again. But no...he apparently hadn't even tried to look into anything Reggie was doing? Like he was just "*shrug*, it's probably fine".

Five loves his family above all else. We know this. If not, he wouldn't have spent decades alone fighting to get back to them and save all their stupid asses. Now, all of sudden, he just doesn't seem to care? Yes, he's present and has obviously kept in touch. He goes to the birthday party, etc. But there is zero interaction with Klaus, or his nieces, or even Viktor. When at the end, he finally gets some fight back (although for completely absurd reasons) and snaps at Luther, the whole family gasps in shock like this is some new occurence that Five would be mean to them. And he'd said much worse to them before! So, that leads me to believe he just has spent the last 6 years being a completely different person and everyone forgot he's actually an asshole?

And back to the family thing...fighting his brother over his wife? Falling in love with Lila, the same person who: conspired behind his and Diego's back in Season 2, was raised by his villainous boss, was the daughter of two innocent people he killed, tried to kill him with her fists, a frying pan, her feet, a knife, electrocution; and who he tried to kill multiple times as well. Yes, they have had time to heal some wounds and they have a shared traumatic experience with The Handler but come on...he would never! He would never be attracted to her that way. He would never betray Diego that way. And he certainly wouldn't fight him over her, not when she and Diego are married and have kids together. I don't care how many years they were together alone...just no. Best friends? Sure. Lovers? Fuck no.

Physically, where was his prowess? Five is supposed to be the all-time badass assassin, trained in martial arts and weaponry. His body is young at 19-20 years old, and at the peak of his physical fitness. Even without his powers he should be able to kick some ass, or at least try to. And then when he does have his powers, he just doesn't know how to use them correctly anymore? And again, he looks slow and weak in a fight. His solution to taking down the big Bennifer blob thing was to fire an entire clip at long range at it, and then just go "huh...weird that didn't work". Why wasn't he looking around the mall for a weapon? An axe? Something else to fight against it! That's what he does...that's his THING! We were fucking robbed of a Five-centric badass fight scene, when there were so many opportunities for one. Hell, he could have taken down a room full of Keepers with a fucking ballpoint pen while singing along to Abba's Dancing Queen! Why didn't we get that?

Meeting with Reginald. Remember in Season two when Five met with Reggie at the Tiki bar? He sat and had a drink with him, but it was still tension-filled with a lot of emotion there. Then in Season 3, when he was basically like "you're a sadistic lunatic that is going to kill all of us" and got right in his old man's face and told him he was a giant dick? This time...he's just standing around Reggie's house shooting the shit and not even acting like he's mad. That is just not the same guy. I realize this was supposed to be Viktor's fight with Reggie, but they still could have shown Five to have a little emotion there.

So, there you have it. I could probably keep going, but this is way too long as it is. It's just heartbreaking, really. This character that we have all come to love for all of his complexities and faults and heroics was just diminished to a one-dimensional, uninteresting character with no regard for his family. Basically, just undoing three season's worth of plot and character development. And it's not Aidan's fault. He did the best he could with the shit he was given, and I feel sorry for him. For as much as we love this character, Five was his. He made him come to life and there's not many other actors his age that could have pulled that off. So, I'm sad this was his end. They really did him dirty.

[soobrat]

괜찮아, 괜찮아 (Fantasy); qk

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; kun x female!reader

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 3.3k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; smut, fluff

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; dom!kun, sub!reader, mc got that dawg in her (she's a pathetic, horny, pervert), privacy invasion, use of a condom (I can't believe it!!), cunnilingus, two reader orgasms, constant check-ins, aftercare crumbs, very soft but passionate smut, let me know if I missed anything

↻ ◁ || ▷ : The ultimate soft dom, Qian Kun everyone. Thanks for requesting! Oh! And obviously listen to Fantasy by Fei while reading the smut.

How long… 

You can barely finish the sentence in your mind amidst the anguish. Twenty minutes ago you were finally able to filter your friends out of your home. You don’t know if they got together to conspire behind your back or if they naturally decided your place was the hangout spot.  

All it took was you telling the group chat that there was a spare key under the welcome mat. You explained that it was in case they were nearby and needed something urgently. Now you come home from work and find three people on your couch, someone in the kitchen, and someone using your computer to play minecraft. Unless you’re looking for an impromptu party, you immediately clean house.

That’s what had to happen today. They were in the middle of a session of Mario Party on your switch, begging you to let them finish first before you kick them out. You would’ve been a little lenient, maybe even sat and watched, but something was going on with you. You weren’t sure if your period was coming soon or what, but you’ve been so utterly horny you’ve gone brain dead. 

Fifty minutes ago you spent far too long at work zoned out while staring at your computer screen. You were slack jawed, vivid depictions of filthy hardcore sex playing in your mind. You switched from celebrity to celebrity, then to old flames, then to hot strangers you’ve had fleeting encounters with. All your options were exhausted and your brain was reduced to goo. That’s how you rationalize images of a shirtless Kun making an appearance in your latest fantasy. The forefront of your mind fought against it. This was gonna make things weird in one way or another you thought as the back of your mind broadcasted more and more. Kun groping you through your clothes on a train. Kun taking you upstairs during a party. Kun fingering you under the table at a packed restaurant. 

Like never before, your mind was igniting, and so was your core. Forty minutes ago was when your shift ended and you rushed to the bathroom. It was unreasonable to assume you soaked through your pants, but you could feel how saturated it was. The wetness sat uncomfortably against your mound. You wipe off what you can and rush out of there. You had a long list of ideas for porn to watch and you were planning to stretch the session for as long as you could.

Thirty minutes before your humiliation, you step into the door to encounter your obstacle. Five pairs of eyes look up at you, some guilty, some unabashed.

“Please let us finish. It’s the least you can do.” Hendery’s begging is rendered unconvincing by his entitled undertone. You cock an eyebrow up at him. He holds a frightened expression before caving. “No, you’re right.”

“But it’s your turn to roll!” Yeri whines, grabbing Hendery to stop him from gathering his things.

“Get up.” You state emotionlessly. The longer you’re deprived from touching yourself, the more irritable you become. Cycling through glaring at each of them ends up with you meeting Kun’s gaze. Your annoyed expression drops, your mouth dropping open a bit as well. He smiles nervously at you.

“Looks like you had a long day at work today?” His question makes you realize he’s not nervous about being scolded, but because he’s concerned about you. It’s a touching realization that shouldn’t be shooting lightning straight to your core. See? Things are weird now.

“Yeah. Really long.” Your mouth suddenly goes dry as all the agonizing fantasies involving him come to mind.

“Alright, guys.” Kun uses his player one privileges to close the game out, taking the time to turn the switch off despite the groans and protests around him. “Let's give her her house back.” Kun reaches over to tug an urgently protesting Yeri up from the couch. You alternate between monitoring the slackers making excuses to stay and monitoring Kun. His unwavering authority over everyone has you pressing your vagina between your thighs as discreetly as possible.

Back to twenty minutes ago when you wave goodbye to Kun, him seemingly moving in slow motion as the closing door gradually reduced your vision of him to nothing. You didn’t have time to mourn this when an overwhelming wave of arousal hits you once you realize you’re finally alone. You rush to your room, squealing as you hop onto your bed. You’re trying to get things started as fast as you can but trying to shove your headphones in your ear while pushing your pants off might’ve been delaying things. You eventually get situated, excitement thrumming through you as you find the perfect porn video.

“Oh shit.” Kun slams one of his hands onto the steering wheel. 

“What?” Sooyoung asks from the backseat. “Forget something?”

Kun’s ensuing sigh answers the question for her. “My wallet. I dropped it in her room while I was getting her switch. I forgot to go back and grab it.”

“Does that mean we’re going back?” Yeri asks excitedly.

“No, leave that woman alone! I’ll drop you guys off and then go back.”

“Fine.” Yeri replies petulantly. “Then just drop me off at YangYang’s.”

“Me too.” Hendery says, followed by an echo from Sooyoung.

“Party at my place, yeah! Come straight to my place after you get it. Tell Ms. Bossy she can come too once she’s done being a stick-in-the-mud.”

Kun groans, not knowing where to start. Instead he just opts for agreeing. One could argue Kun dropping them off individually would’ve bought you more time. That doesn’t change the fact you were planning to go until your hands were tired and all your toys were dead. You would’ve been better off if Kun had forgotten about his wallet until tomorrow. It didn’t matter now that twenty minutes had passed.

You don’t hear the front door opening, you don’t hear Kun yell out to you, you don’t hear him open your bedroom door. Of course you don’t, because you have loud moaning, skin slapping, and sloshing noises blasting in your ears. 

Kun wants to look away but remains focused in your direction. Should he try to grab his wallet secretly and leave? Or should he try to get your attention? And then what? Try to convince you it isn’t a big deal that he saw you rubbing your clit and watched your juices roll down until they soiled your comforter? Kun clenches his eyes shut before blinking them a few times. What was he doing?

No, he should walk back out– carefully– and text you from outside the house so you could get situated. Problem solved. Still, his feet remain rooted in the same spot.

“Kun, please~”

A strong sensation plows into him like a truck. You say his name so salaciously he can feel his cock humming. He looks down, cursing himself for wearing pajama bottoms as a joke. You can see his hardening member clear as day. A gasp from you tears his attention away. You both gape at each other in horror. To answer the question currently haunting you– how long has he been standing there– not that long, but long enough.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Kun speaks first, face-palming with a hearty groan. He peaks up at you, guilt very obvious in his face. He notices the way your eyes track downward. He worries lip.

“I know, I’m making things even weirder… Although I think you’re partly to blame for that too.” He explains as if he’s breaking the news to you. Your heart drops out of your ass as you scramble to sit up on your bed.

“What do you mean?” The words tumble out of your mouth. Only then do you realize your bottom half is very much still bare. You swipe one of your pillows and lay it over your lap. 

“I um… I heard you say my name–”

You cry out in anguish as you cover your face. Kun moves closer, trying to console you but your dramatic wailing is too loud.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!”

“How?! How is it okay?!” You unintentionally scream at the man. Kun’s head rolls over his shoulders, his gaze hazarding toward his cock that’s showing no interest in softening.

“Maybe because we’re in the same boat?” He sounds unsure, or maybe it’s just how awkward this situation is. You sigh heavily, though it does nothing to drain the worry from your body.

“What do we do from here? It’s up to you.” Kun asks. You presume he’s asking you if you want to proceed like adults and acknowledge what happened, or bury it and take it to your graves. That’s not where your brain goes, though. You look at the way he regards you, that look in his eye he has for everyone. Authoritative care is what you’ll call it for now. Before you appreciated it because he was a dependable, great friend. Now you can’t stop thinking about anything but him coaxing you sweetly toward an orgasm.

“Help?” You blurt out, in hopes you don’t have to spell it out for him. Either way, the two of you are walking away from this with your friendship irreparably changed. Why not get something out of it? Kun looks at you in confusion and you sigh frustratedly. Only as you start to explain does his confusion dissipate.

“Help me… I’ll help you–”

Kun climbs onto your bed, kneeling in front of you. “I can help you.” He agrees, his voice soothing you. You can’t help humming at the way he phrases it. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to the side. You don’t get to be self-conscious about being exposed again, not when he’s already reaching down and scooping up your essence. He breathes a laugh.

“Something tells me you’re already ready to take me.”

Your face heats up but your eyes darken. You nod dumbly, agreeing with the obvious. He comments under his breath about how cute you are. You’re already missing his fingers down there.

“I still want to be sure.” His eyes implore you to give permission.

“Please?” The plea is wispy and pathetic. His eyes darken to match yours, it’s the first time you’ve seen him so openly hungry for something. He moves his soiled fingers toward his lips, hesitating for a second before plunging them into his mouth. His eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste. Your breathing becomes labored as you watch him doing something so filthy, something you thought you’d never see it outside of your fantasies.

“I want to taste more of you.” His voice deepens, sending a chill up your spine. With his hands on either side of your midriff, he eases you lower. You lie flat as he sinks to rest between your legs. His tongue eagerly laps at your mound. You crane your head back until it hits the mattress as his tongue presses firmly against you. Curving against your mound as he drags iti upward. It’s slow, so slow. You fist the sheets– it’s perfect, but you need more.

You plunge your fingers into the soft threads of his hair, clenching them and pushing him closer. He hums disapprovingly against you, pulling away to unlatch your hands from his hair. You pout, itching to disobey. 

“Be patient.” He says lightly. Butterflies flutter inside your stomach as you drop your hands to your sides. You keep your eyes on him, aching for his approval. 

“Good girl.”

Every inch of your skin ignites, every tiny hair standing on end. Your body feels like it’ll spark if he touches it, and he buries his face into your pussy. You cry out, throwing your head back. The heightened sensitivity doesn’t stop the entire time he laves over your clit. He uses his fingers to spread your folds, making sure your clit is fully exposed. You want to thrash and squirm against him, but you wouldn’t be a good girl if you did that. You would be getting in the way of him giving you what you asked for. So you fist your covers, whimpers and whines floating into the air.

He hums against you again, this time it sounds peaceful. Pleased with pleasing him, your body melts into the bed. This earns you another delightful hum. The static shocks of pleasure subside in favor of a distant one. One rumbling too far away but approaching quickly. As it closes in on you you feel the urge again. You want to press him in closer, clamp your thighs around him. But his eyes are looking intently at you, soft with their persuasion, keeping you good. 

So instead your moans become fuller. Wanton oh’s and curses trickle from your lips. You screw your face up, everything becoming tighter the closer it comes. That coil is compressing tightly and you just know it’s about to snap.

“I’m gonna cum.” You say almost in distress as fretful moans fight free from you. “I’m gonna cum!”

You buck against Kun’s face, fists tightening around your covers and cracking some of your joints. The orgasm comes in waves, whipping you with electricity that borders on unbearable. Your vision whites out and in the middle of your clouded thinking you wonder if you’re still fantasizing. Kun rubs soothing, slow circles into your clit as he climbs up your body.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He whispers right next to your ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps where it lands. He peppers kisses up from your shoulder to right under your ear as he slows his finger to a stop. “Are you ready?” He breathes out as he maneuvers to face you. Your eyes rake down his figure, his lips, the column of his throat, his shoulder, his chest. You linger on his arms, reaching up to fondle his muscles. He chuckles, his head dropping down and resting his forehead against yours.

He rolls off of you to shimmy off his pajama pants. You watch as the pair you used to associate with unstimulating situations are discarded and sullied in your mind forever. His shirt is slowly peeled away to reveal the toned stomach you’ve only seen peeks of. You couldn’t help your mouth watering then and nothing has changed now, especially with the dark hair leading to what you need the most. The boxers hugging his hips sit as low as they can without revealing himself. Not that it matters with how prominently his manhood is bulging from them. 

He gives those a shimmy as well, pulling them over the hump of his dick. The band finally gives way, springing his cock free. He exhales shakily, his arm flexing as he closes his hand around the shaft and drags his fist all the way down. The member flings up again, slapping against his stomach. Your breath catches as the urge to whine overwhelms you.

He discards his underwear and swings his leg back over you, regarding you with an attentive gaze. You nod again before he can even ask if you’re okay. 

“Good.” He chuckles, kissing your forehead. Hearing the first word of the phrase you crave and how long this is taken is giving you blue balls. You take a quick breath before flitting your eyes up at him.

“I want you.” You whisper.

“I know.” He replies with those passionate eyes and that warm smile. He scoops his hips lower, his tip brushing against your mound. “I want you too.”

He leans over to the nightstand right by your head, giving you an up close view to his pecs. You’re so distracted by the view that you don’t question what he’s doing. He comes back up with a condom in hand. Your brows squeeze together and you nearly ask him how he knew they were there, but that’s not a priority. Your priority is what he’s slipping the condom over right now. You swallow hard as the latex rolls every ridge and vein. You hum lewdly as you press your glossed lips against each other. Kun hisses as he lines himself up.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long–”

He drops that bomb just before easing himself in. Your shock gets caught in your throat, becoming a gargled moan. It means so much more now that he’s inside of you that he wasn’t just hard from the lewd scene. He saw you and heard you say his name and it drove him wild.

A part of it felt wrong. The way you rolled your hips up to coax him deeper, looking up at him. Qian Kun, the appointed leader of your friend group. If anyone else from the group chat knew about this they would freak out. The foundation of the entire group would be shaken. How wrong it felt just made his cock being deep inside you feel that much better. 

He draws his hips back in a languid motion before easing them forward again. He inches inside you, the stretch stinging a little less. 

“You okay?” He asks breathlessly. You nod for the umpteenth time that evening. You go to close your eyes when you feel him lean over you. You snap your eyes back open again, pleased by seeing him this close again. You look deeply into his dark chocolate eyes. “Can you use your words?” He asks, a hint of a scold in his tone. You nearly nod again, stammering when you catch yourself.

“Y-yes, I’m okay.”

“Good.” He’s plunging deep inside you but he’s edging you at the same time. You want him to say it again. Why won’t he say it? You whimper, snapping your hips up to his. He tsks, reaching down to hold your hips steady. 

“Not very patient are you, baby?” His scolding is more blatant now. You pout and he pecks it. Once he lifts himself back up, his necklace is draped perfectly over your face. His thrusts gain a consistent rhythm, one that has his necklace bouncing over you. This excites you more than you expect it to, your hips twitching a few times through the jolts of pleasure. 

Maybe you’re still high off the heightened arousal you’ve built up in the last hour or so but the friction he’s providing has you practically drooling. He draws his hips back so far that he pulls out. He pushes back in and keeps that motion until a turbulent moan comes rolling from the depths of your soul. 

“Oh fuck, Kun!” Your legs start to tremble violently. Moans keep pouring from you before you get the chance to think. He keeps you wide and gaping, each time he draws back your hole clenches for him. His shameless moans from above you has your stomach twisted in knots. You clench your teeth, the sudden overwhelming pressure becoming too much.

“It feels so fucking good.” Your voice is reduced to a wispy shell of what it used to be. You lean forward to bury your head in his chest as the trembling in your legs quickens. “So fucking good.” The words woosh from you aggressively. His hips suddenly slam down and you sob against his chest. Your legs trap him in a shaky cage as your orgasm looms.

“Good girl.” He coos, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek. “Taking me so good.”

With that, your eyes roll back as your hips spasm. A guttural cry rips free from you as you grip like a vice around his cock. The tight grasp you have on him makes him whisper a shaky “Oh fuck…”. It’s impossible for him not to immediately fill the condom with you milking him like this. A sudden jerk has his hips drawing back and plunging very deep suddenly. Your back arches off the bed as the last of your orgasm ripples through you.

Along with a breath you didn’t know you were holding comes a groan that shreds your vocal chords. You’re reduced to whimpers after that, collapsing to the bed. Kun follows soon after, monitoring his weight so he’s not crushing you. He shushes you, cradling your head as he kisses your cheek. An airy laugh sounds from him.

“Very good girl.”

request

nct 127/u masterlist

[justporo]

A Scorching Letter

Brimsterton | A Staevstarion Regency AU

PREVIOUS PART | MASTERLIST | AO3

A/N: Yes hello, I know I haven't posted something I wrote in quite a while. Let's just say I've been busy, but mostly behind the scenes. This however I had written quite a while ago (end of June I think) and I need to get back into the saddle again with posting. So here we are, another trip into Regency AU with @velnna's beloved Staeve (thanks as always for letting me stick him in a costume) and Astarion. Picking off where we left off after the chaise longue incident.

Summary: With a lot mixed feelings after what almost happened between them, a scorching letter is written that reveals genuine truths and brilliant emotions. But the response might not have been what either of them had hoped for...

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve Wordcount: 5,1k Warnings: light implied nsfw

-----

Hands hastily tore open an envelope. On it, in elegant cursive handwriting that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone but Astarion’s, a name was written, boldly and with gold ink even: Staeve Brimstone.

Shivering fingers took several pages from the torn away paper and unfolded them. Immediately, it was visible that the letter had been written with a plethora of intense emotions: some parts seemed barely readable as if the pen had scarcely made its way across the paper in hesitancy. Others were quite obviously written with such vigour, that the sheets were almost torn and stained with blots of ink from a pen that had been pressed too harshly and hastily onto the paper - way too eager to get out the words.

The hands holding onto the letter kept trembling as the letter was studied. It read:

“My dearly beloved Staeve,

It seems we’ve gotten ourselves in quite the compromising position, haven’t we?Apparently, we do have a knack for this kind of thing, don’t you agree? It is nothing new for either of us, truly. How often have we gotten in trouble for something over the years? Quite frankly it might be a big part of the reason why my parents will finally be sending me off to the continent. I figure they fear what two - now grown - young men could get themselves into. And wouldn’t they be right?

A million times have we conspired together. A million plans. A million times it was us against the world. Together.

To our own surprise we haven’t always been discovered. But then again too often than we would have hoped. And yet we have always gotten out of a cornered situation.

This time it is different though.

I take it your sister hasn’t taken notice of what has happened that night. Or it might be that she doesn’t care - I was never able to read her well. And I do not dare to push her on the matter.

What could have happened had we been discovered in that moment? Truly discovered?

But to be quite frank that isn’t what I am concerned with. Not if I am being honest with myself.

You know I am a man of few regrets, Staeve. But I do regret having left like I did that fateful night. My mind kept whispering malicious things to me while my chest was burning, set ablaze by you and your lips. My heart was prepared to scream it all from the rooftops. But yet my anxious mind had me flee like lest we be found out.

But yet my heart keeps burning, the flames impossible to smother. I promise you I’ve tried. Only to find them flickering higher, brighter, hotter, whenever I tried.

And it has been hard to calm it for even just a moment since that fateful night on that chaise longue.

In the end, it has won over my mind even quicker than I thought as I still feel my chest burn with every single beat of my yearning heart. This is what my mind has been toiling with. This and the enticing idea of what would have happened had we not been disturbed, this impossible game of “what if”.

Would we have lost ourselves within each other, unravelled by our hands and touches. Would we have been void of words with only our bodies to speak the yet unspoken? Would we have gone all the way into oblivion together torn and then reformed together. And all to only be unravelled again and again until there had been nothing left but strings?

Strings we might have been able to have knitted into something new, something thoroughly intertwined?

Only the heavens may know.”

The words at the end of this page were thin; anxiously so. The author’s worries and fears clear already by how the words seemed to trail off at the bottom. In hopes perhaps, that they could just be shaken off the page lest they fall on deaf ears.

The next fresh page though started with bold writing again, even bolder than before. The written words proud, tall and unashamed:

“But I do know this: at night I lay unable to sleep with that blistering desire inside of me, slowly scorching me from the inside out. And when the heat becomes near unbearable, I lay there with nothing but the moon as a witness, touching myself while imagining - hoping - it was you. My hands wandering down over my own body and finding pleasure so easily and quickly - so intense - as they stroke and caress. Simply because it is you in my mind. The thought of you nearly enough to lose myself time and again.

I know I am a sinner for this, for my thoughts and my actions. But could a sin truly feel this heavenly? If this is what hell feels like, I will let it take me, gladly. I would welcome doom with open arms for just my actions, but truly, I’d much rather be doomed together with you, Staeve.

The feeling of your mouth on mine has been imprinted on me. I cannot forget it. I will die with the memory of your soft lips on mine on my mind as the last breath leaves my earthly body.

You've touched me a thousand times - a hug, a tap, a taunt - but not like this. Never like this. Not with that enticing intention, not with that need: giving, pleasing but also taking -  possibly all of me. And if I’m being true and honest to myself: I would give you all of myself - body, mind and soul. You may take it all!

Do you feel the same? Because even writing this letter I feel how restless my fingers are, how they itch to touch you again as well, how they need to feel you again: your lithe body, the skin of your face, your silken hair.

I just want to feel the warmth of you again, enveloping me, your body moving against mine as we fall together, endlessly.

And when your hands know me by heart, I want to feel your mouth all over my skin, tasting me before swallowing my confessions to you directly from my very own lips and tongue.

I want you to know me as deeply as no one has before. I fear no one else could ever understand me like you do anyways. And I hope, dearly, this is what you want too. I surely know it’s what I want with you: knowing you inside and out, better than myself.

Back in that moment it surely felt like that.

But memories are fleeting, fickle little things. Already I am questioning if I really saw the same yearning in your eyes I keep feeling in my very soul. But then again, it's not like this only transpired yesterday, hasn't it? Hasn’t this all been brewing for what feels like an eternity?”

Up until this paragraph the writing had been bold, the elegant cursive letters leaning so far it was easily distinguishable that they had been written without pause. Words that had  been too powerful to not let out.

But those next ones were more hesitant again. The pen had been pressed down to start many a time and then hastily taken off again, judging by how several blots and scratches of ink clouded the first letter of the next sentence.

But in the end even these words had found their way - either way:

“I reckon you know the feeling in the atmosphere before a thunderstorm approaches - when the tension is so dense it makes your hairs rise up. When the whole world seems to hold its breath, awaiting the inevitable.

Aren’t we just like that? Awaiting what deep down we have known for so long?

Aren’t we inevitable?

How long have we been like this? In that terrible limbo of potential and not yet made resolution?

Only for it to unload in but a blink of an eye, lightning hitting us both, scorching us through and through, down to our furthest depths - setting us brightly ablaze where light has never even reached before.

There is no way in which we could ever proceed, pretending as if we both haven’t been changed forever in this moment, changed at our innermost core - wouldn’t you agree?

At times I fear that all it would have taken was that one night. One night of scorching flames to then see the fire smothered. This - us - nothing but a quick intermezzo, a short crescendo that is quickly muffled and not to be heard again.

But whenever I think I’ve forgotten about this, about you, for a just moment, there it is again: the thought of you, impossible to get out of my head.

You are always there with me, Staeve, with every breath and every step.

You didn’t just light a candle inside of me, you started a wildfire.

And I welcome it - with all the heat, all the power, all the destruction it might bring but also the all encompassing warmth it might spend. I welcome it to be consumed by it!”

Before the final words of the letter there was generous space left. Quite obviously the author felt the need to let his final words take up room. The final conclusion to the letter read:

“I am in love with you, Staeve Brimstone.

I am in love with you - and looking back it feels like I have always been in love with you. From the moment I first laid eyes upon you up to the my last moments on this earth.

And even more than that: I need you. I fear I cannot live without you.

And even though it might be selfish - but we both know that I am -: I hope you need me too.

I hope to love you, Staeve, forevermore. And if I’m fortunate enough, that you will love me too.

Forever yours,

Astarion”

As eyes ran over the last page, the hands holding the letter had begun to tremble. They were gripping the paper so hard by now that knuckles showed white.

Then when the end had been reached they were shaking so much no word could have been made out anymore. The grip was crinkling up the paper now. Up until the pages were deliberately being crumpled angrily, pressed into a ball of paper, letters and emotions alike forced into an indiscernible mess.

With a few steps only, the way was made to the lit fireplace and the pages were given to the flames. The fire eagerly licked at the papers, ate it up until there was nothing left of the words and the long suppressed feelings they had finally expressed.

~~~

The Brimstone family had sat down for dinner. Or at least for their approximation of it. Viscount and Viscountess Brimstone were idly enjoying their dinner talking a bit of business, politics and gossip. Meanwhile, their son Staeve was more enticed by the workings of a small golden mechanical beetle his father had brought him as a souvenir from one of his business trips than by the meagre meal of roasted pork and vegetables he’d thrown onto his plate as more of an afterthought. The sleeves of his white linen shirt were rolled up to his elbows as he had discarded his doublet long ago to be able to move better and one of his suspenders threatened to give up on its job as it was dropping off his shoulder in his hunched over position. He had wholly reengineered what dinner time meant for him, much to the grievance of his parents. But dozens of tries to change first the boy’s and then the young man’s behaviour had failed. So at some point they had given up as long as he knew to behave when guests were over and was still honouring the family gathering times.

That usually meant that he was at least present during family dinner times, physically at least. But he’d only eat later, once it had all gotten cold. And then would sneak into the kitchen to grab seconds when he would have realised once more that tinkering around didn’t sate his bodily hunger. At least not enough.

His mother had long given up on trying to teach Staeve manners. When he had been a child she had been sure he would grow out of it. But once she had realised that his quirks had only been growing with him, she’d come to realise that it was for the best to just leave him be and hope for the best.

Only occasionally did she still try to enforce his older sister Nita as a role model to him. It never worked.

So, as Staeve was fumbling with his current project and his parents were lost in conversation, his sister Nita - void of any option to make dinner time pass any faster with her parents talking and her brother with his mind elsewhere - moved around some asparagus on her gold rimmed plate and wished she could’ve found an excuse to go eat with her younger siblings in the kitchen. Even they would have been a more ample entertainment discussing their playtime or perhaps their current tutor lessons.

That was until she thought of a way of hopefully grabbing Staeve’s attention for more than a fleeting moment.

“So, Staeve, have you found something to do yet, something to cope?”

Her brother’s tuft of green hair lifted shortly from where it had been bent over the small, intricately built beetle and some similarly delicate tool with which Staeve meant to dismantle the small object - thereby probably irreparably destroying it.

But the younger Brimstone shortly looked at his sister in irritation. Then his gaze snapped back to his hands and his workings and he began tinkering again.

“What?”

Nita rolled her eyes. “You know you are supposed to use full sentences, right?”

“Whoever has the time for that?”

“Ah see, he does speak in full sentences.”

Staeve grunted at his sister’s sarcasm but didn’t reward her with another glance.

Nita tried again.

“So have you?”

“I don’t think that was a full sentence.”

She was about ready to throw her fork at him, hoping it would drive the audacity right out of him - or at least take an eye. For a moment she debated just letting the silence draw out. But honestly she hadn’t been the one starting to be petty.

“You know, Staeve, I really get why even Astarion has decided to suddenly leave town when you’re being such a prick!” Nita almost shouted. That even had caught her parents’ attention now who immediately scolded her for her unladylike demeanour and choice of words.

She pouted, annoyed at how she had been the one being called out now instead of her brother.

And when she turned her head around again to throw him an angry glare she suddenly found she had finally caught his attention. Maybe even a bit too much of it because Staeve was now staring at her, eyes wide, face void of colour.

“What do you mean Astarion is leaving?”

Nita was about to snap at him again. But something in her brother’s gaze and his sudden stillness made her abandon the thought immediately.

“Didn’t- didn’t he tell you? I thought you always knew everything about each other.”

Immediately hurt flashed through Staeve’s teal eyes, too irritated to even try to hide it.

“Leaving when? Why?” Staeve’s voice was nothing more but a croak. A strand of hair had fallen into his eyes. He didn’t even bother pushing it out of his face.

Suddenly Nita felt unsure of what to do. Unsettled by her brother’s sudden burst of emotions. The only thing she came up with was snapping at him again.

“The Grand Tour, you idiot, what else.”

Staeve’s eyes widened even more. He set the small golden beetle and his tool down with a distinct thud, so hard, it even made their parents become silent and turn to their children in irritation.

“When?” Staeve simply followed up again. His words were terribly silent all of a sudden. Nita didn’t have it in her anymore to try and purposefully try and upset her brother. She threw a glance at the big mechanical clock - one of the few Staeve hadn’t disassembled yet: “I think right about now. They’re probably going to travel all through the night to catch a ship in the morning at one of the great harbours.”

Staeve didn’t wait for Nita to finish her sentence. He jumped up, almost making his chair fall over, staring at the clock. Their parents’ heads swivelled around trying to understand the cause of the commotion. But their son was already storming out of the room, not even sparing their scolding and quizzical looks another thought.

Immediately, Staeve made his way through the manor and down to the stables. As he rushed along servants, through a plethora of rooms and finally got outside, he realised that the weather was about to turn: an early summer evening threatening to bring a foreshadowing of yet far away autumn. The oncoming storm, announcing itself with distant thunder and dramatically darkening clouds, though, only felt like a fitting backdrop for what was brewing inside of him.

Questions filled Staeve’s mind as he made his way, and worries - and memories.

Every moment for the last couple of weeks since that fateful night had he basically been thinking about what happened. It only ever took him a split second to conjure up the scene again in his head: the last couple of breaths in which he had stared into Astarion’s eyes and how it had felt like he could see through them right to the bottom of his friend’s heart, the burning feeling of Astarion’s lips against his own and this desiring ache within him, physically and emotionally, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out.

He had been so sure Astarion had felt the same. And hadn’t his friend been the one looking up at him with such pleading in his crimson eyes, lips already parted in anticipation before they had met halfway?

But maybe Staeve was remembering it all wrong. He certainly must be. Why else would his lifelong companion leave him now unannounced?

Loads of feelings were forming up inside his chest, waiting to burst - like thunder after lightning had struck in the far off distance.

Staeve made his way to the stables to grab Freckle while his mind was somewhere completely else. He didn’t even stop to put a saddle or reins on her. A terrible premonition told him he hadn’t any time to waste. And the mare was used to being ridden like this, after all they were a well-practised team.

The young Brimstone led his horse outside and immediately felt raindrops seeping through his thin linen shirt and trousers. He couldn’t have cared less. Wasting no more time he jumped onto his mare’s back and with a click of his tongue and soft nudge from his boots they were off in a dash, cutting through the oncoming rain.

As Staeve thundered down the small trodden out road from the Brimstone estate towards the Ancuníns’ residence the rain turned from just a trickle to a pour - the kind that would turn grasslands into swamps for a good while after and dust roads into murky rivers. His mind was racing at an even more outrageous speed as the gigantic manor of his friend’s family came into view.

Lifting his head while holding onto Freckle’s mane as the horse felt his owner’s urgency and gave him her all, Staeve searched for the familiar sight of that one particular window with a light on inside, hoping it would betray his sister’s words. The one where Astarion often already had been peeking out of in wait for his companion to come by. The one where they had sat countless of times, talking, laughing, smoking some stolen cigars and choking on the burning smoke when they had been only boys.

But the lights were off.

And Staeve’s fears turned into all encompassing panic as he closed in on the giant building as he didn’t dare to let himself hope anymore. The rain around him had him fully drenched by now, his loose shirt clinging wetly to his body. Already he felt hot tears adding to the uncomfortably cold rain running down his face.

When he finally came around the manor, he found nothing but an ill-fated stable hand rushing through the downpour, perhaps tasked with a few last things before being allowed to flee the bad weather. Not even hesitating Staeve rode up right next to him making the poor boy shriek and stumble back from the horse making the gravel fly with a sliding stop.

“Astarion Ancunín?” he only managed to scream against the rain.

The boy just stared up at him, obviously too startled at the sight of Staeve like this. He probably looked like a madman. And he felt like one: not properly dressed, drenched to the bone on his equally aggregated steed. Even more so the more time he spent chasing down a man in this storm who so obviously tried to get away from him without him knowing.

But he needed to see him, at least a final time. One more try.

“The Duke’s son?” Staeve shouted again at the stable hand. And finally the boy seemed to have recovered from his stupor.

“Left. With his father the Duke, in the fancy carriage,” the answer came back, shouted against another thunder in the distance - the heart of the storm was coming closer.

Staeve’s chest clenched. Freckle became nervous beneath him. Even a well trained horse like her didn’t want to be out longer than needed in this weather. But just a moment more.

“When?” he screamed.

“Dunno exactly, couple of minutes, just when the storm started.”

Staeve needn’t hear more. Time was of the essence now. He spurred on his horse once more and left the befuddled boy behind who even forgot to finally rush inside and instead stared after Staeve racing off again.

The roads were already muddy, an endless amount of puddles strewn across them while Staeve made the decision to go for the hill overlooking the Ancunín lands, the one with the weeping willow. There he’d be able to see how far out they were already on the country road leading away from town.

But when he arrived at the foot of said hill and dashed on with Freckle, his horse slipped and almost took a tumble. And since his or his horse’s broken neck surely wouldn’t make him be any faster, Staeve slid off his mare’s back and continued on foot.

The rain kept pouring onto him as he rushed up the hill, his booted feet sinking into the wet ground. Several times he almost took a tumble when his boots sank in too deep. Illustrious curses that would have made his mother blush and his father scold him, left Staeve’s lips as he ran up the grassy hill as fast as possible, barely able to see anything anymore with the rain slashing his face. He didn’t even notice how the freezing cold crept into his body, his limbs, how his fingers began to become stiff. His whole body was shaking, as much from the cold and the wet, as from the feelings still burning inside his chest - the only thing still spending a bit of warmth.

Staeve reached the top of the hill and the weeping willow atop of it - honouring its name as rain kept dripping generously off its tendrils. Trying to wipe at least some of the rain out of his face and panting heavily from running, Staeve’s eyes flew along the road leading out of town, willing the carriage to be there, so he’d know he could still catch them. Or at least a glimpse, of him. To at least wave a last goodbye. Because he didn’t know when - if - his friend would ever return.

And he spotted the carriage. Right there, at the very end of what Staeve could make out. Just before it disappeared around a final turn of the road - and out of sight.

~~~

Inside the carriage Astarion was craning his neck only a little to see Ancunín manor slowly disappear behind the lazily sloping hills of the countryside as the wagon rattled along the road leading away from town. Now the ancient weeping willow was the last familiar landmark before the road would lead them along faceless fields and forests rushing past them, only there to be forgotten again in an instance. The storm was doing its part to make Astarion’s last impression of his home even more dull: clouds and the rain almost washing all of the colours out of this final sight.

This might very well have been the only time in his life when his heart actually ached at the thought of leaving home - or rather him.

Only a few weeks ago had he hoped to spend an incredible last summer with Staeve, his childhood friend. Especially as he had been sure of something new budding between them, something that could have meant them being more than companions possibly. Something that either might have been honestly terrified to explore. They could have gone down this road together.

But it seemed that instead of choosing this final adventure and what treasures and secrets might have been ahead, Staeve had chosen utter and complete silence. To his letter as much as his departure. Astarion had been unable to figure out what to make of it.

However, wasn’t the absence of an answer a response of its own?

Questions, regrets, fear and hurt were all swirling around inside of Astarion’s chest as he feigned indifference staring out the small window the rain kept drumming on. He was covering most of his face with his hand turned away from the other passenger in hopes it would make him look bored and hide his frown - and more than anything, the tears burning dangerously in the corners of his eyes.

Writing that letter, taking a leap of faith had taken nearly all of his courage.

When that kiss had happened after that invaded soiree, it had been easy. Fueled by the evening, laughter and lots of liquid courage it had been easy to fall into Staeve’s arms. It had been easy to be open about what had been building up inside of him for so long.

But writing this letter stone cold sober had been near impossible: opening up about everything that, all his life, he had been taught to keep hidden behind his orderly closed button border, tugged away behind a starched collar closed so firmly it made one choke. Admitting to desires that would make him a wretched sinner in the eyes of his family and society. And finally confessing his feelings to his lifelong friend, risking everything they’ve had. It had been taxing, hard, painful.

And in the end, apparently, he had paid the price.

In front of him, the Duke Ancunín kept talking about their travelling plans while Astarion could feel his heart get torn into pieces the further away from home they travelled. A piece of it begging to be allowed to stay.

“Son, it is a great honour that Monsignore Constantin will take you in for a few extra weeks as his disciple. He is very strict but he is the best,” the Duke repeated his words in a sharper tone when he noticed his son not paying attention. “He will make an upright man out of you, Astarion, I know it.”

“Oh, will he? I can barely wait,” Astarion replied with bitter sarcasm in his voice. His father, in response, was near boiling with anger at his son’s insolent behaviour.

“He has his methods, son, you will see. He will let none of your nonsense slip, I will make sure of it!” The Duke’s words cracked like a whip. But the young man didn’t care, his eyes were still trained on the outside, on the weeping willow becoming smaller in the distance. He didn’t honour his father’s wrath with another response.

The carriage filled with nothing but the sound of drumming rain and thunder rolling ever closer. When the older Ancunín apparently realised his anger would get him nowhere he tried a different route of grasping his son’s attention.

“Hasn’t the young Brimstone come to say his goodbyes to you, my son? Is that why you keep brooding?”

Astarion’s gaze snapped to his father, immediately betraying that he had spoken the truth. He felt how his brows drew together as pain flared up in his chest even more. Trying to get it back under control quickly he looked back outside the window as the carriage shook along the road in worsening conditions.

But his father had cracked right open what had been bothering him and finally Astarion gave up on trying to hide. What did it matter now anyways? The cards had been dealt.

The young Ancunín let his hands fall into his lap but kept looking outside as he felt how the tears in his eyes threatened to become overbearing.

“He hasn’t actually,” Astarion admitted. “In fact, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. Not since I’ve sent him a letter a while ago,” he continued, voice flat and emotionless.

“A letter? How uncommon for the two of you,” the Duke threw in with a tinge of irony coating his words like bile. In a knee jerk reaction Astarion’s crimson gaze burned in anger at his father’s vile words. But in the end he wasn’t wrong. The young noble resorted to throwing a last glance upon the willow up on the hill.

“Come to think of it though, my son, I do remember seeing the letter,” the Duke rambled on. “And I remember handing it over to the butler so it may get delivered quickly.” Astarion turned away a little further once more from his father as he felt his composure threatening to break fully. “A difference of opinions maybe?,” his father finished.

Astarion didn’t see the slight tilt of the corners of his father’s mouth as he let the words roll off his tongue, not hiding his distaste for the young Brimstone.

The young Ancunín only could feel the final nail being put into the coffin with his father’s final words. His last string of hope he had been holding onto snapped in two just like that.

“Possibly,” Astarion simply replied, kneading his hands in his lap, emotions threatening to overwhelm him fully.

“Maybe even more than that,” he added after a while as he finally let his gaze fall from the last sight of his hometown.

Had he averted his eyes just a moment later he would have made out the figure of a dark-skinned, green-haired young man appearing beneath the weeping willow in the storm. But like this, thunder cracked as the carriage took a turn and Astarion’s home and his lifelong friend went out of sight.

[dairy-farmer]

I just read a recent ask (about the family basically giving Tim to Jason in order to keep Jason around) which makes me a bit sad since I want Tim to be treasured/cosseted most of the time, so for me the angst potential would go like this:

Jason is madly in love with Tim, like Victorian faints at the sight of his pretty little ankles (Jason both loathes and loves the pants Tim put on the Robin uniform because if he had to see all that creamy skin every patrol, even through tights, he'd go Insane). But even though he's in love he has literally no idea how to express it. He was a virgin before dying, then spent a few years having weirdly power dynamic-y sex with Talia/League members, then became a sexless crime lord. He has Zero Game and has no idea how to get any. Meanwhile Tim has a string of admirers he's oblivious to so Jason thinks he has no chance. The longer he waits, the sooner someone like Kon is going to snatch up Timmy and spirit him away from Gotham and the family.

But then: Jason confesses to Dick about his feelings, and Dick immediately tells the rest of the family because he cannot keep a secret to save his life, and so the family contrives situations where they end up together in pretty morally dubious ways because Tim obviously needs to marry Jason ASAP so both of them stay in the family where they belong and everyone can keep an eye on them! Plus Timmy is so cute and everyone wants to watch him get loved on, even if they can't admit it to themselves.

Cue Jason getting "accidentally" dosed with pollen the next time he and Dick are out fighting Ivy and then Dick leaving Jason to recover in a warehouse where Tim is "accidentally" dosed with a tranquilizer of some kind (with convenient cameras around to make sure things don't get too rough), or Timmy's first heat happens and Jason is coerced into being his Alpha for Timmy's "safety."

From Tim's perspective, the entire family is conspiring against him and no one is listening to his pleas for an explanation of any kind. So he goes along with it to keep the peace, thinking he's a convenient hole for Jason to let out some pent up feelings. From Jason's perspective, the boy of his dreams keeps being offered up to him and he's barely holding on by his fingernails because if he can just get his hands on Tim once he knows he can make it into something permanent where he can really show him exactly how much he loves him.

Cue lots of angsty fucking with cameras all around the house. Tim can barely walk with his inner thighs covered in hickeys and Jason's dogging his steps both overcome with guilt and ardor. Dick never fesses up to the role he played and encourages their codependency. Eventually Tim figures out Jason loves him when Jason "forces" him to sign a marriage license so he can never leave.

!!! i love these types of scenarios! where jason believes he and tim are together and in love and things are going swimmingly while tim is initially confused and lost about what is actually going on and his perception of jason and what's happening is much darker than what jason thinks is happening!

it reminds me of this fic which is one i've reread so many times 😍!!

[newtonsheffield]

How freaking smug are Edwina and Ben when these two get it together? Are they conspiring? Texting between the shops? Commiserating??

They’re smugly happy for the first couple of weeks after Kate and Anthony get together. They’ve been rooting for this, they’ve been guiding their siblings towards this like proud little parents. And now it’s happened. And they’re… they’re happy. They’re happy, right? They’re very happy.

Except… Kate and Anthony are very… enamoured with one another. It’s making things… difficult.

Edwina walked out of the shop one day, expecting Kate back from lunch any minute to find Kate in the small alley between their shops. Anthony’s back is pressed against the wall and their lips are moving together desperately. Anthony lets out a laugh when they break apart and Kate whispers something in his ear and his arms tighten around her waist, holding her closely.

It’s sweet. Seeing her sister fall in love. There’s no one who deserves to be this happy more than Kate. And Anthony’s obviously obsessed with her, he is so obviously absolutely enamoured with Kate. Edwina personally witnessed Anthony throw his cigarettes in the bin and slap a nicotine patch on his arm because Kate said she doesn’t love the smell of cigarette smoke. It’s sweet, the fact that Anthony Bridgerton turned out to be a golden retriever where Kate’s concerned. However, no one wants to find their sibling pressing their boyfriend into a wall. No one.

“Oil!” Edwina let out, clapping her hands, “Get back to fucking work!”

Kate turned slowly towards her with a slightly guilty smile, her fingers still entwined with Anthony’s. “We were just saying goodbye.”

“Oh, I know what you were just doing. Get inside.”

Anthony gave her a sheepish smile as he past. “Hey bestie.”

“Don’t bestie me. Get. Ben’s probably looking for you.”

They kissed quickly again before Anthony slunk back into the tattoo shop and Kate went back to their own.

“I’m happy for them.” Benedict tutted, sticking his head out the door.

“Yeah, real fucking happy for them!”

[mammalsofaction]

Reading KissingLizard's fic Let's All Assume the Worst and am overcome with another Perryshmiertz fic idea bc I have no self control, obviously.

Basically, premise takes place after Doof 101; he's quit evil and Human!Perry isn't his nemesis anymore. It comes with the iconic actualism crisis: Perry's happy for Doof, and he's happy they aren't bound by the rules of a nemesis-ship anymore. On the other hand, they are no longer obligated to see each other, and Perry's back on the free agent's field. He doesn't know how to approach asking to stay, and Heinz doesn't know how to ask Perry to stay either. They're trapped in this will-they-won't-they bc that's the only place they know after their 5 year nemesis-ship.

Enter Vanessa. She's known Candace and her friends for some time now too, though they hardly interact. Candace has her own cliche, and Vanessa runs in the punk/emo/goth circles. They're amicable though, so they banded together for a group project with Stacy and another one of Vanessa's friend, I'll call them Arnie. You can probably see where this is going.

Insert Comedy of Errors, and Vanessa tells Candace, Phineas and Ferb that he and her father has been spinning around each other for ages, and all four of them conspire to set them up. Candace, Jenny, Stacy, Vanessa and Arnie try to set up tropes. Have I forgotten to mention Danville High is setting up for an end of the year prom type celebration? They pull Heinz to help with the kissing booth, a five minutes in Heaven, a Kissing Cam. They couldn't take into account, however, Heinz's rotten luck and awful understanding of social cues, as well as the fact that Perry is a secret agent.

The boys, however, are pulling out as many romance stops as their young lives understand to make up the Grandest Performance of Romance Ever. Love Handël is involved. Phineas has pulled out the blueprints for the second titanic.

All this will cumulate with the highschool gym building on fire, OWCA having to run interference to ensure a bunch of kids dont die and a kiss under the rain. Perry has the best kids EVER.

[lostinthesasuke]

do you think sasuke is religious or upholds his clan's religious practices? i was rereading and in the part where they go to resucitate the hokages orochimaru says "there's nothing left of the uchiha's nakano shrine", to which sasuke answers "the exterior doesn't matter" and it got me wondering

HI YES thank you so much for sending this ask. it's very close to me. elaborated a Lot under the cut but tl;dr - yes.

he is religious in the only way he remembers how to be. preserving Uchiha tradition and culture is deeply important to him. when he said the exterior of Nakano shrine didn't matter, sure he was referring to the fact that there was a hidden underground level... but it meant much more than that.

genocide doesn't just claim lives, it claims languages and religions and every facet of culture. konoha has been known to participate in the censorship and eradication of culture. this assimilation functions as an extension of genocide.

by virtue of being a survivor, i think sasuke feels an obligation to "carry the torch". since he was so young when the massacre occurred, it's likely a lot of practice and customs have been lost altogether. this is distressing to him. even during his character introduction at 12 years old, his clans "restoration" was first and foremost in his mind. to me this statement was never about re-population as many people interpret, but about justice, pride, and culture.

he feels as though the Uchiha name has been "tainted" and it is his responsibility to "purify" it. but what that means to him shifts over time.

the Uchiha clan's religion is obviously based on and deeply tied to the Shinto religion, just like the clan's jutsu and kekkei genkai. many Uchiha jutsu are named after Shinto deities.

this part i am not going to delve into too much yet because one day i will probably write a paper about it, but one of the tenets of Shinto belief is the importance of purity. Shinto practice and customs are regionally variant but the practice of purification is central. death is considered to be extremely impure. this context is deeply relevant to Sasuke's belief system and the way he thinks about himself and his clan.

it is likely that the uchiha religion is closed, evidenced by nakano shrine being kept a secret. sasuke not only has to contend with the fact that the remaining pieces of his culture are guarded and hidden, requiring the use of high-level dojutsu to decipher, but also that any of it may have been altered. the revelation that the stone tablet was altered in order to facilitate madara's manipulation and further subjugation of the uchiha was destabilizing. sasuke has to put the pieces of his religion back together with mostly his memories to rely on.

many parallels can be drawn between sasuke and the sun goddess Amaterasu. when she is betrayed by her brother Susanoo, she withdraws into a cave and plunges the world into darkness. Susanoo conspires to manipulate her into leaving the cave, and then binds her.

this gender reversal is sort of fascinating. Amaterasu and Susanoo contradict the popular notions about the sun and moon and the masculine and feminine. of course this reminds me of sasuke as well, because everything does.

sasuke is typically associated with the waning crescent, the phase just before a new moon, and itachi with a full moon. since sasuke is associated with the moon, the yin, and the feminine, it would logically follow that he would be passive like water; low like a valley. however, he subverts this expectation.

i believe this is a big part of why he makes so many people uncomfortable. he is fire and lightning and he is not a perfect victim.

after speaking to the kage and revealing the secrets of Nakano shrine, he resolves himself to burn the world down and be reborn like a phoenix. like the waning crescent before a new moon.

he is not "pure" the way itachi expects, kishimoto states, or many fans anticipate. he has strong convictions and he is confident. he is not apologetic and he is impossible to ignore.

the first time we ever see sasuke associated with the sun is after he learns the truth about the massacre. he leaves his cave. he sheds hebi and becomes taka, predator instead of prey. he is ready to spill as much blood as it takes.

i have many ideas about what Uchiha religious customs might look like, and many of them concern fire. the uchiwa fan that stokes the flames is their crest. they are seen as fully fledged members of the clan once they can perform katon jutsu. the shrine that houses the Uchiha's patron deity has eternal flames lit.

drawing from my own religion, one of my favorite metas draws a parallel between the Uchiha fire affinity and

אש תמיד (Aish tamid)

which means eternal flame. (sorry for line break, tumblr hates right to left languages). Aish tamid refers to the flame in the temple of Jerusalem that was always kept alight before its desecration by the greeks. just like the torches located in Nakano shrine.

the greeks attempted to hellenize and extinguish Jewish culture. they outlawed observance of Shabbat and circumcision, spat in the face of kashrut by sacrificing pigs in the temple, and even built statues of their gods within. the Jewish people rebelled against them and the flame was rekindled.

rebellion, justice, and pride in culture is in the spirit of fire. unending, always enduring. Sasuke and the Uchiha clan embody this, their crests always emblazoned on their clothes even at the cost of armor. from Madara's rage, to the coup, to Sasuke's revenge, justice is an integral component to the Uchiha ethos.

to me this is a really interesting contrast to the will of fire. the will of fire is the ideal of nationalism-- putting the state before the self. this idea is lauded as heroism. it was originated by the senju, no wonder.

meanwhile, the uchiha clan with their fire affinity and deeply spiritual connection to flame are seen as transgressors. they are seen as disruptive to the ideal of the "will of fire" due to their strong cultural identity. they refuse to assimilate into the dominant culture. they prioritize their love and familial bonds with each other over konoha's interests.

naruto wiki im going to kill you

they are labeled with the opposing "curse of hatred".

it is no surprise then that itachi was praised for his strong "will of fire" for carrying out the massacre-- putting the well-being of the state over the lives of his family. groomed into following the senju doctrine and abandoning his own culture. assimilated and outcast.

in modern culture Aish tamid is kept alight by the continuation of religious practice- praying and studying Torah keep the flame burning. "The exterior doesn't matter". the flame is already burning within Sasuke.

sasuke carries on whatever pieces of his culture he remembers, and he prays in the dark, and he thinks of his mother with her hands clasped at the kamidana, and he visits shrines often on his journey. he lights incense and he burns brightly. and he walks on.

[closetsof-backlogged-dreams]

merthur fic recs: sof's masterlist

(inspired and encouraged by the ever-lovely @dreamingthroughtokyoskies <33 ilysm babes)

hello, there! these are fifteen fics that i've collected over the years as my favorite merthur fics of all time. they come in all sorts of genres and lengths and vibes, so buckle up!!

Sorcerers & Knights, and their long-lost Prince by DracoWillHearAboutThis [30k, 9/9]

"Can't you watch where you're going?!" Arthur snapped. 

"You ran into me!" the other man exclaimed, incredulous, and Arthur stilled because he knew that voice. And that accent.

He looked up and found himself face to face with a flushed, indignant Merlin Emrys, tour shirt drenched with coffee. Bloody hell.

"That shirt is Dior," was all that came out of Arthur's mouth, without his permission, and the singer's face hardened.

"Well, bugger for you," Merlin snapped. "Might have to wear off the rack, for a change, like the rest of us. Maybe the money you saved with that could go to your precious charity."

Arthur blinked, the blow of the other man's words not even hitting him before he heard Gwen Smith shriek from down the corridor.

"Merlin! You can't say that to the Prince of Wales, oh my God!"

Merlin is the lead singer of the popular British band called Sorcerers & Knights. Arthur is the Prince of Wales. Their paths cross and destiny unfolds.

fellow merthur/rwrb fans rejoice, this is practically a rwrb AU! except Merlin is the lead singer of a rock band, Sorcerers & Knights, and Arthur is the prince of Wales. the romance between the two of them is so insanely sweet, and i love all the outside commentary from the rest of the cast:)) i also recommend literally anything else by DracoWillHearAboutThis !!

Caesura by StormDancer [52k, 1/1]

Merlin is a writing prodigy with the world's most angsty case of writer's block; Arthur is an overachieving Econ major struggling to escape his father's shadow. Together, they fight crime!

Well, no, they don't. But they do fall in love.

College AU where Merlin is an undiagnosed unmedicated ADHD anonymous prodigy author who takes a course on his own work, meets Arthur, a fan, and they fall in love?? omg. on another note, Merlin's characterization in this fic is INSANE! he's giving deranged thought daughter and im obsessed

all ye faithful by schweet_heart [26k, 1/1]

After an eight and a half year absence, Arthur returns to his father’s house for Christmas, determined to find some closure and finally let go of the past. Merlin, as ever, gives him a reason to hold on.

wow. this fic. there's just so many good things to say about it, but i'll start with the beautiful depiction of parental abuse. Uther isn't physical, and he never does anything too obviously harmful, but it's the little things he says and the overall toxicity of his presence. and then the way he acts with Mordred, Morgana's son, while Arthur watches and wonders why his father never treated him like that?? it's brilliant. absolutely brilliant. the whole fic is a small town AU where Merlin and Arthur were together in secret and broke up as teenagers, and meet again when Arthur comes home. everything about this fic, from the breaking-up-and-making-up to the beautiful depiction of abuse, is so amazing.

Of Lemon Drops and Lizard-Cats by supercalvin [26k, 2/2]

When Inspector Arthur Pendragon went into work that morning he didn’t expect to get on the bad side of an attractive paramedic whose dessert-related insults were surprisingly scathing. Then the same man turned up at the police station, with a clever glint in his eye and his daughter in his arms.

When Merlin Emrys became a single father he made one simple rule: he wouldn’t date until Aithusa was old enough to understand. Merlin had always had his hands full with his daughter and never had a problem with this rule until Arthur stepped into his life. Then everyone he knew started conspiring against him.

single dad paramedic Merlin?? smitten detective Arthur?? mutual pining but self-forbidden romance?? it's amazing. and the domesticity of this fic... let's just say i finished it and couldn't stop thinking about families for the next week. the outside commentary from the rest of the cast in the department is top tier, and Aithusa as Merlin's daughter is the absolute cutest thing

wanna be your end game (my youth is yours) by ladililn [63k, series]

Merlin grows up in Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately, so does Arthur.

this fic is actually a series, and it's genuinely so adorable i have no words. them?? growing up together?? badgering and arguing and teasing?? but truly being there for one another, always, when it came down to it?? elite. the absolute greatest. and their completely oblivious mutual pining never fails to make me giggle <3

after the storm (are you leaving) by Imagined, Scarlet_Ribbons [60k, 6/6]

“Gorwin is my King,” Merlin says, golden eyes fixed flatly on Arthur. “And I work for him. That’s what it says.”

“That’s what what says?” Arthur all but roars, wishing he had a sword just so that he could swing it at something. He needs to let all of this anger at something, anything, he’s just not sure at what and he doesn’t really care anymore.

“The treaty you signed."

Or:

Arthur lends Merlin's aid as a sorcerer to an allied kingdom. He doesn't expect to find Merlin, two years later, in shackles, and only a mere echo of the person he used to be.

this fic is beyond devastating. a warning that it is extremely dark, with a lot of addiction and (non-sexual) slavery. overall, though, it's so beautiful. the way that Arthur forces himself to allow Merlin to leave, and then finds him absolutely destroyed?? then stands by his side through all of it and never gives up on him?? such a beautiful fic, as well as everything else written by these two authors

secrets i have held in my heart by arthur_pendragon [20k, 8/8]

Merlin carves himself into Arthur’s soul while the song of summer trails behind them in the sultry air; while the trees haggle with the sun over the price of autumn — separation. Arthur will forever remember this week in which he obtained his heart’s desire and had it ripped away from him.

wow ok so i'm really not exaggerating when i say this is the best fic i've ever read in my life—it's so heart-stoppingly beautiful and painful and the writing is gorgeous and genuinely i don't even know how to communicate how good this fic is. it's friends-with-benefits but also secret-mutual-pining and angsty and hurtful and ahhhh. so so so good.

Next to You (It's the Rule) by LunaMyLove [62k, 8/8]

Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur.

Or

Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others.

Also, or

Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

this is one of the funniest fics i've ever read! if you're familiar, it's very reminiscent of CaffeinatedFlumadiddle's writing. Merlin and Arthur's relationship is hilarious, very mischievous-cat and cat-owner. i also adore Mordred in this fic—he's so squishy and adorable idkidk

since we're alone, you can show me your heart by isolationqueen [7k, 1/1]

Going on a month long road trip though Europe with Arthur is probably a terrible idea. Only, Merlin has never been able to say no to Arthur.

modern road trip AU my beloved!! ughh i love the bitchy pining in this fic, and how protective and jealous Arthur gets. just them going from club to club in all these different places.... so good!! always recommend <3

More than I bargained for by follow_your_fire [27k, 3/3]

Arthur's had enough of hearing about Merlin's unsurpassed bedroom skills from his friends.

There's no way Merlin is better than him, is there?

Well, only one way to find out.

this one is for my porn-with-plot girlies!! Arthur being gay for Merlin is the funniest thing ever, and watching him be so bewildered and confused the entire fic but covering it up so that Merlin doesn't suspect a thing is top tier. and then Merlin being soft?? and loving?? and fluffy?? and then Arthur just doesn't know what to do..... SO GOOD!!

A Collapsing Star With Tunnel Vision by objectlesson [8k, 1/1]

“Perhaps we are doing her a favor then,” he says, pausing to chew the inside of his cheek before adding in a measured, careful voice. “I wouldn’t want to live without my love, either.”

Arthur whips around in the saddle to stare at him, eyes hard and dark, like the storm clouds building on the distant horizon. “What love? You haven’t got a love,” he snaps, like he’s the sole keeper of all Merlin’s secrets.

'Arthur acting different with Merlin alone than he does with the knights' my beloved!! this fic is so poetic and beautiful, with Arthur being ugly and mean but so in love and Merlin is equally so ahhhhh. so insanely good. lots of monster hunting and metaphorical discussions. im obsessed with this fic you don't even understand

Nicest Thing by idlestories [19k, 1/1]

Arthur has been best friends with Merlin since they were eleven, and in love with him since they were sixteen and he realised what that was. Too afraid to risk the friendship, he's resigned himself to never telling him how he feels.

Now, high school has just ended, it's their last summer together before university, and Arthur? Arthur is just trying not to think about it.

Featuring: loneliness, pining, drunk Merlin, driving lessons, and more than a few poorly-executed teen movie clichés. Covers June-December the year they start university.

this fic is so criminally underrated it makes me homicidal. one of my top three favorite fics of all time, do you understand me? it's so. it's so good. the pining?? the yearning?? the split as they go to different unis?? the summery poeticism of the writing?? i'll never get over this fic. i think about it every day. amazing.

time, mystical time by andiwriteordie [17k, 1/1]

Finally, the man tears his gaze away and meets Arthur’s eyes once more. “I seek the aid of your Camelot,” he says, but his voice sounds more hesitant now, as if he’s had to change his response for some strange reason.

Merlin can’t help but believe that reason is him.

“As for who I am,” the man says with a bit of a chuckle, and he glances around the room again at familiar faces, at his friends. “I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.”

Or:

When a mysterious stranger shows up to Camelot claiming to be Arthur from the future and seeking help for his sick consort, Merlin learns some things about himself, about Arthur, and about a future he never dreamed was possible.

Arthur from the future time travels back in time to find Merlin, the only person powerful enough to save his cursed consort, an older Merlin?? i physically cannot. this fic is so good. shows two sides of the same coin (ha): Merlin and Arthur, established with Merlin's magic out and proud, and then Merlin and Arthur, unestablished and Merlin's magic still a careful secret. and Morgana in this fic is elite!! she's absolutely hilarious and completely done with merthur's bullshit

For Want of a Nail by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf [235k, 44/44]

Fleeing from Essetir in the bloody beginnings of the Purge, Hunith finds herself on the doorstep of old friends. That's all it takes to untangle the skeins of destiny and weave a new tapestry.

long fic alert!! but oh my god i love this fic. Leon being Merlin's older brother?? elite. Arthur and Merlin going through angsty mutual pining?? top tier. and then later on, this fic features probably my favorite OC of all time: Bellegere, Arthur's cousin and Agravaine's daughter. i love her so much and you can pry her out of my cold dead fingers. just such a good fic!!

what is this feeling by redkay [13k, 1/1]

“Get out of my sight, and don’t come back until you can prove to me why I should allow you to remain in my service.”

Merlin stares at Arthur, confused. His tone was ominous, and it certainly sounded like a threat, but Merlin can’t quite work out what part is supposed to have him shaking in his boots. He’s halfway back to Gauis’ chambers when it dawns on him: Arthur actually thinks this stupid, degrading job is something he would be willing to fight for - as though Merlin’s life wouldn’t be complete without the honor of scrubbing the sheets Arthur manages to soil on a disturbingly regular basis.

In which it takes Merlin a bit longer to warm up to Arthur than it does in canon, but he gets there in the end.

we deserve more of Merlin being genuinely bitchy and pissy at Arthur!! the show really did make him Arthur's #1 fangirl wayyy too quickly, but this fic fixes that right up. it's so funny, but so heart-touching at the same time. a classic <3

wow, this list is so long overdue it's insane, but i think this was the right time to finally put it out there. i hope you like these fics!!