#<- what i said about 'one cannot exist without the other' :)

[branwinged]

jon and elias as gothic doubles

1: Radiance, Catherynne M. Valente // 2, 6: MAG 92 - "Nothing Beside Remains" // 3, 11, 14, 23: William Wilson, Edgar Allan Poe // 4: MAG 114 - "Cracked Foundation" // 5: The Book of Imaginary Beings, Jorge Luis Borges // 7: Gothic, Fred Botting // 8: MAG 148 - "Extended Surveillance" // 9: NBC Hannibal S02E12 - "Tome-wan" // 10: Season 4 Q+A Part 2 // 12: NBC Hannibal S03E10 - "And the Woman Clothed in Sun" // 13: MAG 194 - "Parting" // 15: MAG 160 - "The Eye Opens" // 16: NBC Hannibal S02E01 - "Kaiseki" // 17: House of Psychotic Women, Kier-La Janisse // 18, 20: MAG 200 - "Last Words" // 19, 21: Frankenstein, Mary Shelley // 22: NBC Hannibal S03E12 - "The Wrath of the Lamb"

[palms-upturned]

.

[eternityofend]

BOOTHILL HEADCANONS

> Reminder that this is not canon/accurate to his personality (this is before Boothill gets released.)

+ contains nsfw (Is labeled)

( Art credit: @ Luvmybabygirl0 )

SFW

I'd like to imagine, that this man just does a hair flip every time he's offended at what you said.

Ex.

"My Love, I know you're jealous but it's just a cat.."

Boothill looks at you for five solid seconds, and then hair flips to let you know he's really offended. "Tell the cat to move then, that's my place."

Does not skip leg day, would probably kabedon you using his LEG or if he does work out he'd probably want to use you as weight, like letting you sit on him while he does push-ups.

Loves going on little trips with you using horses, if you don't have your own horse he'd definitely let you ride his horse but you're in front of him.

Bonus points if you're shorter than him cause he'd put his chin on top of your head while his hands go around your waist to grab the rein.

Would flex to everyone about you, like- he's in a fight with someone? "You weak cutie(bitch), my lover hits harder than you."

Would call you petnames like "Sugar", "Honey", "Darling" , "Babe/Baby" , "Sweetheart" , "Love" , "Love bug" , "Sunshine" , "Pretty (boy/girl/thing)"

Listens to Lady Gaga, I'm sure of this, he would so rock it out on the dance floor and get you to dance with him.

Has eaten a bullet in front of you and was incredibly confused at your reaction that was just like 😰, until you tell him that you were surprised he ate a bullet he'd just be like 🤨 but if you did tell him straight away, he'd cackle at you.

Sometimes forgets he was originally a human so he does the craziest things knowing he can get fixed up anyway (he once jumped off a 13 foot building to chase after an enemy)

Loves to cuddle you, he wants to feel your warmth while he sleeps or relaxes.

Lets you braid his hair or comb it if you want to, once he gets used to you combing or braiding his hair he'd just walk up to you at random times with a brush in hand and let you do what you want with his hair.

Really reckless and causes a lot of trouble sometimes but there are days where he's really calm and all he wants to do is spend time with you, like he just acts like a cute little kitten who just woke up when he's calm.

If JoJo existed in their world, he would be a big fan of it.

Would let you name his gun or horse, does not complain at all even if you name it "princess twilight sparkle cookie crumble" he'd just laugh, completely accepting the name.

Even says the name during fights, he'd say "Your time's out, time to die by my princess twilight sparkle cookie crumble." 😭😭

Looks at his reflection in the mirror a lot while practicing poses, even getting you to watch from the bed or couch while showing you a new pose he likes.

Kisses you a lot, even in public he's really affectionate and touchy, cause no way is he letting other people look at you and think you're single.

You're hot and he knows you're hot so he's trying his best to make everyone know you're already taken.

If someone TRIES to flirt with you in front of him, he's already got you by the waist, against the wall, making out while he flips off the one who tried to flirt with you.

Would let you pick his earrings, always excited when you say you bought a new earring for him.

Looks good in an apron, like, really good. Househusband material frfr.

Plays with your hair a lot, twirling it, and even kissing some strands while he looks at you in the eye.

Easy to get flustered but it always leads to him making you more flustered, he takes everything like a challenge but he does love it every time you sass him back or flirt with him.

Causes a lot of trouble for you and with you, if its for you it's going to be super romantic however it'll make some people irritated, but if he's causing trouble with you, its more chaotic and a LOT of people will 100% get pissed.

Cannot sleep without you in his arms, he'll walk over to your room (if you guys aren't sharing one), hair all messy from tossing and turning because you weren't in bed with him. He'll just plop into your bed, it doesn't matter if you're even awake or not he just wants to hold you while he sleeps.

NSFW

Definitely takes off his hat and puts it on you BUT only when he's letting you ride, if you're having normal sex he'd probably just keep it on or let you bite on it while he fucks you from behind.

Probably says something weird during sex which I would love to imagine would just be "Yeehaw" because he can't curse.

Probably into roleplay where you're a criminal and he's a cowboy who successfully hunted you down or the opposite, has a bunch of handcuffs just to use it for roleplay.

I feel like he'd just be the type of person to use sex toys, not dildos though cause he wants to be the only dick inside you, something like collars, leashes, handcuffs, whips, ropes,

He'd be into gags, bondage, dirty talk, lactation, blindfold sex, spit, both praise and degrading kink, spanking, anal, lap-dances, fingering (he'd be conflicted about receiving), oral (receiving and giving), sensory deprivation, and gun play!

If he doesn't have a dick, he'll probably have a bunch of straps, he's good at giving oral but would still prefer fucking you with a dick than fingering or eating you out. (Unless he's the one getting fucked)

I feel like he's a switch but more on the dominant side, he's super open to submission as long as his partner can pleasure him real good.

This man walks around technically naked all the time, so he's got to have imagined having public sex here and there, but most likely in bars where everyone's busy and doing their own thing. Like it'd turn him on if you were just on his lap humping his erection while you both are in a bar but everyone else is just too drunk to notice at all.

Super vocal, grunting, moaning, sometimes even whining and whimpering, you got it all, bonus points because he does it all straight into your ear.

Uses his sharp teeth to mark you all over your body and then sucks on it to leave hickeys, would likely be a little menace and leave his marks somewhere visible even if you're wearing clothes so people would know your his

Wants you to pull on his hair while fucking, he wants to be able to know how good he's making you feel and hair pulling would be his goal to make sure you're getting actual pleasure.

When he kisses you or makes out with you, it'd always involve tongue, has a little hand that sneaks over to your waist stopping at your hip or your ass.

Slaps your ass loud, especially in public, he just smacks it while you're in mid-conversation and the sound just ECHOES, it doesn't hurt it just sounds like it does, he just stands there smirking while you stare at him.

He's an ass guy, boobs are nice to him cause he can suck on the nipples but definitely an ass guy, you cannot tell me he doesn't fuck you from behind solely to see your ass jiggle with every thrust he does.

Flat? Nuh uh, he's making that shit bounce no matter what.

Likes playing with you using his gun, frequently flicks the handle of his gun over your nipples or dick/pussy, sometimes he shoves a little bit of his gun in and if you get your cum on the muzzle, he'd lick it right in front of you.

Likes praising you and getting degraded, is into getting whipped too, he secretly wants to be on his knees begging for you, worshipping you, while you're standing over him with a whip in your hands. (The whip doesn't actually do any damage)

Does not care what gender you are, sometimes he'd misgender you on purpose and call your ass a pussy or if you're a girl, he'd probably call you "pretty boy" just to get you riled up.

His favorite positions when bottoming would be cowgirl, and his favorite position if he's on top would be Doggystyle.

(Edit: I just realized how much of a power bottom he is, but it's up to you, the reader whether you want to fuck him or be fucked by him 😇)

Please do remember everything is just a headcanon and is not actually linked or accurate to what Boothill's like in canon.

( Art credit

1st: Kradebii on Danbooru

2nd: Tei (@2hwe1) on twt

3rd: 2월14일 (Valentine_DD_) on twt )

Please tell me if I got the artists wrong!

[luckykiwiii101]

✰ How To Accept Imagination As Your Real Reality & Allow The Feeling Of Fullfillment ✰

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

Hey Upper East Siders.

Gossip girl here and if you didn’t know already, the topic of this gossip post is the key to everything. And without it, you have nothing.

Oh don’t tell me you believed me? I meant, without persistence, you have nothing. But hopefully (*definitely) after reading this post, everything will be a lot easier.

From experience I know everything that enters your ear flies out the other. So i’ll break this down into easy little steps for you. Can you handle that? Or is it too much to comprehend?

Now to the interesting part. Most upper east siders who struggle with persistence is because they watch the 3D in-front of them and freak out when something bad happens. Or get discouraged when they don’t wake up with what they want after 3 days. *Cough cough* In other words, all you’ve been doing since forever.

Well why’s that? Because you don’t accept imagination as your real & only reality. And you want to know what’s most ridiculous part about that? The fact that you ARE imagination. If imagination isn’t real, neither are you.

Don’t accept your imagination as your real and ONLY reality? Let me help you, and everything will be alright. But remember, it’ll only help if you get off your mental arse and do something about it.

Phase One:

✰ Why Is Imagination The Real & Only Reality? ✰

Because if imagination didn’t exist, neither would you. Everything around you in your 3D is there because it is natural to you. Everything that exists was once imagined. There’s a reason why all successful people acknowledge this too.

Imagination is the real reality because the 3D cannot exist without it. Why would you accept the 3D as your real reality when it is CREATED by you (imagination). You are IMAGINATION. Your 3D (physical reality) is FULLY CREATED by Imagination. There is no exception. Everything that you are experiencing in your physical reality was created by YOU. Your imagination. You are Imagination. You are imagination. You are imagination. You are imagination.

For all the times i’ve called you “nothing”. I meant you are nothing but imagination.

Phase Two:

✰ How 2 Feel Imagination To Be The Real Reality ✰

There are things you have to remember and carve into your mind. Here are some quotes from Edward Art.

✰ “THERE IS NO OBJECTIVE OUTER MAN. The Outer Man is simply an expression of the inner man. The only man that exists is in inner man.” (Consciousness is the ONLY reality). ✰

✰ “I am imagination imagining being human. I am imagination. Imagination is my only reality.” ✰

These quotes are extremely important to understand. Read them over and over again until they are fully carved into your mind. Without this understanding, fulfillment appears as a struggle. Because how you can feel fulfilled having your desire in imagination if you don’t accept it as real?

Imagination is you. It is your safe zone. It is where you go to fullfill yourself. It is a fact that is real. It is a fact that it is your real & only reality. And that is why everything you accept to be real in imagination IS real. That is why you can feel fullfillment in simply feeling yourself to have your desires in your imagination.

Now that you accept your imagination as your real and only reality, you’re now going to apply this in ALLOWING the feeling of the wish fullfilled.

✰ HOW TO ALLOW THE FEELING OF THE WISH FULLFILLED ✰

First of all, do you know what the “feeling” is? If not then -> CLICK HERE

As Neville Goddard said “Feeling Is The Secret”. This feeling is all you need to focus on to manifest anything & everything you could possibly want.

Now this is how to allow yourself to freely feel fulfilled knowing that imagination is the true reality. Here is a quote from Edward Art. You are going to do this every time before you fulfill yourself in imagination ->

“So start with the feeling that, “I can have and feel whatever I want in my mind.” Once you make this the core feeling inside of you, you will naturally start to think FROM this position.”

Once you understand this, your imagination will feel like the unlimited and free zone that it is, where you can give yourself anything and everything that you want.

✰ DO IT WITH ME ✰

✰ Remind yourself “I can have and feel whatever I want in my mind.” “Imagination is the real fact.”

✰ Now focus on that feeling. That feeling that imagination is your real reality because it is. You feel relieved don’t you. Or you feel nonchalant. But over everything, you feel that imagination is your real reality.

✰ Now with this feeling you are going to imagine what you want. Give yourself what you want in imagination. Affirm, visualise, etc. Do whatever imaginal act you want. Allow the feeling of having it. Remove all feelings of desire, and replace it with fullfillment. Repeat in accepting that you have it until you no longer feel the need to do so. You will know when you feel like it’s done in imagination. Feel it as a present fact in imagination. Know that what you are seeing is real. It is your reality. You already know how because of my post about feeling.

✰ Now you are fullfilled. You have now felt true fullfillment. You know that you have your desire in imagination. Now persist in that. Come back to this mini “meditation” every time you think of your “desire”. It is no longer a desire because you are fullfilled. Keep coming back and dwelling in this feeling and I promise you that your 3D will reflect your desires so fast.

You can thank me later. You know you love me. XOXO

- gossip girl 💋

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Reckless Sins

Summary - Their inability to see eye to eye often leads to arguments and mutual disdain, frequently escalating into reckless intimacy as both are eager to dominate and assert control, but what happens when, one day, they are caught in the act?

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), getting caught in the act, strong language

Word count - 2416

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"We must act," Jace declared, his voice urgent and eyes burning with intensity. 

Rhaenyra shot him a stern look, her expression a mask of restrained frustration. The war had ignited fierce disputes within the family, but their bond somehow endured the strain.

"We cannot be hasty," I interjected, siding with Rhaenyra. Jace rolled his eyes, the exasperation evident in his demeanour.

"You always find a way to oppose me," he retorted, his tone dripping with irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to back down.

"I simply wish to make you see reason," I replied calmly. 

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, the weight of the day's bickering visibly wearing on her. Without another word, she exited the council room, leaving Jace and me alone in the cavernous space, the tension between us palpable.

As the heavy door closed behind her, Jace turned to face me fully, his expression hardening. 

"Do you take pleasure in contradicting me at every turn?" he demanded.

I met his gaze steadily. "I take no pleasure in it, Jace but someone must temper your impulsiveness with caution."

His jaw tightened, the muscles working as he struggled to contain his anger. "And you believe you're the one to do that?"

"Yes," I replied firmly. "Because I care about the outcome of this war just as much as you do, and I refuse to see us make reckless decisions that could cost us everything."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unresolved conflict. His eyes bore into mine, sharp and unyielding.

"You're insufferable," he spat, stepping closer, his chest heaving with frustration.

"And you're impossible," I shot back, my breath quickening.

We stood inches apart, the heat between us almost tangible. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Why do you always have to challenge me?"

"Because you need to be challenged," I snapped, stepping even closer until we were nearly touching. "You're too reckless, too impulsive."

"And you're too stubborn," he growled, his breath hot on my face.

The tension reached a boiling point. Without thinking, we lunged at each other, mouths crashing together in a fervent kiss. It was fierce, hungry, fueled by all the pent-up anger and passion we had in us. Our hands roamed urgently, fingers digging into flesh as we battled for dominance.

We stumbled back, knocking over a chair in our frantic embrace. His lips trailed down my neck, and I gasped, pulling him closer. 

The world outside ceased to exist, there was only the heat of our bodies and the desperate need to consume each other.

His hands slid under my dress, the touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. I arched into him, our movements becoming more frenzied. We tore at each other's clothes, driven by a primal urge that overrode all reason.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine. "You drive me mad," he breathed.

"Then stop resisting," I whispered, pulling him closer.

In that moment, the line between love and hate blurred, consumed by the inferno of our desire.

He grabbed me by the waist, lifting me onto the council table sweeping away the papers and pawns scattered across it.

Looking down at me with a smirk, he teased me, trailing his tip against my entrance and relishing the effect it had on me. 

"Stop," I warned, but he only grinned, pushing himself into me. He began thrusting, his hands gripping my hips, moving me in time with his powerful movements.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes closing as pleasure filled him. "You feel so good, no matter how many times I fuck you," he said, and I moaned softly.

"Jace," his name escaped my lips like a prayer.

"Yeah, that's it," he encouraged, savouring the sounds escaping my mouth as they echoed through the room. 

His rhythm increased, thrusts turning into relentless pounds, each movement filled with the raw intensity of our conflict and desire.

"Fuck all of them," he muttered, burying his head into my chest. "Fuck the usurper and fuck his kinslayer brother," he continued, his movements becoming sloppy as his rage consumed him. 

His hands tightened on my hips, fingers digging in as he drove deeper, the mix of anger and lust fueling his every motion.

The room filled with the sounds of our passion, the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths, and the mingled moans of two people lost in their own storm.

His teeth grazed my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he bit down, marking me. His hand slipped between us, finding that sensitive spot and rubbing circles that sent me spiralling.

"Jace, I'm close," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the chaos of our desire. He took my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him.

"No," he said firmly, and I frowned, frustrated. "I'm not done with you." 

He pulled out of me as abruptly as he had entered, leaving me whimpering at the sudden loss, a slight ache forming between my legs.

"Asshole," I murmured, and he smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Such a filthy mouth," he mocked, and I rolled my eyes, sitting up.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. I shook my head defiantly and he shrugged, settling into a chair opposite me. He began stroking his cock, never breaking eye contact.

"Do it," he insisted, and I sighed, finally bringing one hand down between my legs and the other to one of my breasts, massaging and pinching periodically.

"That's it," he encouraged, quickening his movements as I threw my head back in pleasure. Our soft moans and groans reverberated through the room as we pleasured ourselves, each sound heightening the intensity.

"Gods," I whimpered, my hips bucked against my hand, my movements becoming frantic as I chased my release. His eyes burned into me, his own pleasure evident in the way his body tensed, his strokes becoming erratic.

The sound of clattering made me look up, and Jace approached me swiftly, grabbing my hand to stop my movements. "Fuck," I cussed, frustration bubbling over as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"I never told you to cum," he said, his voice low and commanding. I glanced down at his length, twitching and strained, noting with satisfaction that he hadn't let himself go either.

"That's my job," he growled, thrusting into me again. I sighed at the exquisite feeling of him filling me once more.

"I love it when I piss you off," I said, my fingers tangling in his curly locks.

"You infuriate me," he corrected, his voice a mix of anger and desire.

I laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. "Then why can't you stay away?"

His response was a deep, primal thrust that made me cry out. "Because you're the only one who can match my fire," he said, his pace quickening.

Our bodies moved together with a reckless urgency, every thrust, every touch driven by the volatile mix of our emotions. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer with each powerful motion. 

"You're impossible," I gasped, arching into him, my nails scraping down his back.

"And you're insufferable," he shot back, but his voice was hoarse, tinged with something deeper.

Our breaths came faster, mingling with the fervent sounds of our passion. His movements became frantic, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. "Jace," I moaned, my body trembling.

"Not yet," he commanded, though his own control was slipping. His rhythm grew erratic, driven by a desperate need. "Together," he growled, his eyes locking onto mine.

With a final, shuddering thrust, we found our release, our cries of pleasure mingling in the heated air

We collapsed together, breathing hard, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. The council room, once a place of strategy and war, had become a battlefield of a different kind, our bodies the only weapons we needed. 

As our breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on our skin, the reality of our situation returned.

"Clean up your mess," I said, leaning back on my elbows with a smirk. "Before someone walks in and finds the heir face-deep between my legs."

He shot me a look as he began putting his pants back on. "Our mess," he corrected, straightening the chair we had knocked over.

I hummed in response, sitting up fully and spreading my legs provocatively. "Clean it," I commanded, my voice low and taunting.

His eyes flickered with hunger, a predatory gleam lighting up his face. "You're stubborn," he said, approaching me once more.

"I've been told," I replied, my voice a purr as his face dipped between my legs. His tongue lapped at the mess we had created, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure through me.

I moaned softly, my fingers threading through his hair, guiding him as he worked. The heat between us reignited, our bodies responding to each other with the same intensity as before. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he continued his ministrations, the sensation driving me to the edge once more.

Just as I was about to lose myself in the moment again, the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open cut through the haze of passion. Panic surged through us both.

"Shit," Jace muttered, pulling away quickly and scrambling to his feet.

"Give me my dress," I hissed, urgency lacing my voice. He bent down quickly, searching the floor, but we were unsuccessful in our frantic efforts to cover me up.

"What do we have here?" Daemon's voice rang out, an amused smirk on his face as he took in the scene. Jace immediately stood in front of me, shielding my body from view.

"What are you doing, little prince?" Daemon asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"We were just..." Jace began, taking a step forward, but I grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back in front of me.

"I'm still naked," I shrieked in his ear, my voice a desperate whisper. He looked back at me, panic evident in his eyes.

"It's not what it looks like," I stumbled out, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. 

Daemon laughed shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like," he said, taking a few steps closer. "But don't stop on my account."

"What?" Jace asked his voice a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Go on," Daemon said, gesturing toward me with a lazy wave of his hand. "Make sure you do a good job. I wouldn't want to report that the heir of the kingdom doesn't know how to please a lady."

I could see the hesitation in Jace's eyes, the conflict between his duty and his desire. He glanced at me, his face a mask of uncertainty.

"Now," Daemon commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

With a deep breath, Jace turned back to me, his eyes filled with renewed determination. He sank to his knees, his hands spreading my thighs once more as his mouth descended to my centre.

The embarrassment of Daemon's presence mixed with the raw pleasure of Jace's tongue, creating a heady, intoxicating sensation. My fingers tangled in Jace's hair, guiding him as he worked, my moans growing louder with each passing second.

"That's more like it," Daemon remarked, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched. "Don't be shy now. Let him know how he's doing."

I threw my head back, a loud moan escaping my lips as Jace's tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. The thrill of being watched only heightened my pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Good girl," Daemon purred, his voice low and encouraging. "Show him how much you enjoy it."

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, each touch, and each sound amplifying the pleasure coursing through me. I was teetering on the brink, my body trembling with the effort to hold back.

"Don't hold back," Daemon commanded, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let go."

With a final cry of ecstasy, I did as he said, my release crashing over me like a tidal wave. Jace continued his efforts, prolonging my pleasure until I was spent, collapsing back against the table.

"Well done," Daemon said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he straightened up. "Now, clean up your mess, both of you. We wouldn't want anyone else stumbling upon this little scene, would we?"

As Daemon turned to leave, his laughter echoed in the hallway. We exchanged a glance, the reality of our situation sinking in. This was a dangerous game we were playing, but the thrill of it was impossible to resist.

Jace turned back to me, exhaling heavily. I slapped his chest in frustration. "Ow," he mumbled, rubbing the spot I had just hit.

"Give me my dress," I demanded. He quickly found the discarded garment and handed it to me. I slipped it on, hopping off the council table as I adjusted the fabric.

"This is your fault," he muttered, irritation in his voice.

"My fault?" I retorted, incredulous.

"You're the one who wanted me to clean my mess," he pointed out as we began picking up the scattered papers and pawns.

"I didn't mean," I snapped. "You're the one who couldn't control himself."

"Neither could you," he shot back. "Don't act like you weren't just as involved."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, shaking my head as I tossed papers back onto the table.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe we both lost control, but what about Daemon?"

I froze, the weight of his words hitting me. "Daemon saw... oh, gods, he saw my—" I buried my head in my hands. 

Jace chuckled, the sound a mix of relief and amusement.

I looked up at him, mortified. "So now what?"

"Now we get out of here before anyone else catches us," he said, giving me a squeeze.

As we walked out of the council room, Jace's arm around my shoulders felt oddly comforting. We moved quickly, our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.

"I can't believe Daemon saw—" I started, but Jace cut me off with a smirk.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Daemon's got bigger things to worry about, I certainly don't think he disapproved."

"I'm still mortified," I muttered. "What if he tells someone?"

"Let him," Jace shrugged. "If anything, it might remind us to be more careful next time."

"Next time? You think I'm letting this happen again?"

He laughed. "Well, if Daemon's reaction was any indication, maybe we'll have to be more creative. Or, just a little more discreet."

I couldn't help but smile. As we reached the end of the corridor, we parted ways, the tension between us temporarily eased by our shared laughter.

For a moment, the war outside was forgotten, replaced by the war we fought with each other, a war that ended, at least for now, in a fierce and reckless truce.

A/n - This is VERY different from my usual style, so I’m extremely nervous to share it. I spent an absurd amount of time writing it because I kept second-guessing myself, but I really hope it doesn’t disappoint!! 

[jewishvitya]

I remembered this essay from years ago when I was unlearning what I knew of Israel and zionism and I couldn't find it again, and now I see it in a Shaun video, with the source.

Ze'ev Jabotinsky, "The Iron Wall." I downloaded it from the Jabotinsky Institute.

These are the titles he gave this essay:

I said that Zionist leaders explicitly talked about Zionism as a colonialist movement. This is an example of what I was talking about.

Some quotes:

There can be no voluntary agreement between ourselves and the Palestine Arabs. Not now, nor in the prospective future. I say this with such conviction, not because I want to hurt the moderate Zionists. I do not believe that they will be hurt. Except for those who were born blind, they realised long ago that it is utterly impossible to obtain the voluntary consent of the Palestine Arabs for converting "Palestine" from an Arab country into a country with a Jewish majority.

My readers have a general idea of the history of colonisation in other countries. I suggest that they consider all the precedents with which they are acquainted, and see whether there is one solitary instance of any colonisation being carried on with the consent of the native population. There is no such precedent.

He's saying openly: no land was colonized with the consent of its indigenous population. So we have to do it without that consent.

Every native population in the world resists colonists as long as it has the slightest hope of being able to rid itself of the danger of being colonised.

That is what the Arabs in Palestine are doing, and what they will persist in doing as long as there remains a solitary spark of hope that they will be able to prevent the transformation of "Palestine" into the "Land of Israel."

He said that any zionist who depends on the Arab population accepting a Jewish state on their lands, might as well withdraw from zionism because that's impossible.

Zionist colonisation must either stop, or else proceed regardless of the native population. Which means that it can proceed and develop only under the protection of a power that is independent of the native population – behind an iron wall, which the native population cannot breach.

And then he says that this Iron Wall is the British Mandate and the Balfour Declaration - they're the power that stops Palestinians from resisting us.

He says that despite this, zionism is moral and just, so justice must be done, zionism must move forward. He just wants to be honest about what it takes. He wants to discourage talks of an agreement to avoid signaling to the British that they must try to reach one between us and Palestinians. Just stop them from fighting us, we'll colonize the place.

Zionism was openly colonialist until this language was no longer politically useful.

Editing because I was kinda shocked by the response this got, in several moments. When the slavery of US founders was brought up to dismiss this whole thing. When First Nations reservations were brought up on the same list as the United States as equivalent to Israel, because I said I oppose the existence of a country that prioritizes one ethnic group at the expense of others, and I support democracy that protects everyone equally.

But another thing that's still nagging at me is the idea that this whole essay can be dismissed based on semantic arguments, like sure this uses the word colonialism, but is it actually the colonialism that we talk about and oppose? And what if this word is only used to appeal to the British for support?

This isn't the the first time that prominent zionist thinkers talk about zionism as a colonialist movement. I saw it in old publications, things like magazines, I'd be posting them too if I found them again. I did my own deconstructing years ago, I don't remember where I found all my sources.

I do remember that they talked about the two concepts together - the idea that we're here to colonize, and that we're here to come home. So nowadays there's the arguement that people can't colonize their own homeland, but to them there was no contradiction. I saw it again looking at Herzl's diary last night.

I say I define colonialism through actions and tactics, through the harm that's done to the victims of colonization. Because if we knowingly repeated the actions of colonizers and used the help of an imperial force to conquer a land, having a historic connection to it shouldn't absolve us.

Jabotinsky didn't write to the British in this essay. He wrote to other zionists who wanted to aim for something more collaborative with Palestinian Arabs. And it's true that word choice can mean different things in the context of the time, but there's a reason I chose those quotes. What is he actually saying in this essay?

Consider colonization throughout history - the native population never agreed, so we must do the as colonizers did in the past.

Palestinians will never agree to a Jewish state - so we must do it by force. We should use an imperial force as an "iron wall" to prevent them from resisting. Stop talking about an agreement because then the British will try to reach one instead of holding them back and letting us do our thing.

He's comparing the zionist movement to other efforts of colonization, to talk about emulating them.

This isn't a game of semantics. I'm not just bringing this up just because he used the words.

What he's describing - conquest by force, preventing a Palestinian state, forcibly creating a Jewish majority - is what happened. And it's still what's happening.

This is the branch of zionism that went into practice and founded Israel.

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

[theallyandhisbeast]

About bucktommy and 911 in general

You know, in the end, this just feels extremely cheap and cruel.

Showing bucktommy be incandescently happy in all the episodes but 8.6? Even in this ep you can feel how much they care and genuinely love each other. Audience was largely optimistic and excited about them, in a way we have never seen for other buck's LI.

Only to what? Throw it all away because you can't be bothered to write a satisfactory arc for them? Because Buck is the epitome of the guy who dates a lot but always gets broken up with? That to be able to decide if you want to be in a committed relationship if you are bi you have to explore first or else your decision is null and void?

What a way to waste potential and your characters arc.

The special thing about Tommy was that he was beloved by not only bucktommy fans, but GA, and most importantly he was a sort of representation we don't see all that much in media. People loved him because they saw themselves in him, they could connect to his journey and they were genuinely rooting for him to find love and family with Buck. To waste it all away, and to do so by basically throw at us all that we loved about them is unnecessarily cruel.

What hurts the most is that even buck and tommy themselves didn't want to break up. but instead they "must" because bowing down to harmful stereotypes about bi people who are "confused and so they must experiment before settling" is more important than telling a compelling story.

Even without bt break up, I feel like this season took a sharp dive for the worst about well thought storylines in a way that baffles him. Gerrard was reduced to a joke, as was Ortiz, both pgs that could have been used to create compelling arcs that intertwined the 118 even more but instead we got this cheap throwaway joke of a Gerrard, Ortiz was basically throw out of office in a single ep. Hotshot sl could have been fun but instead it's just.... there. And coming back too just for funsies, cause apparently that sl was more important to develop instead of a interesting queer relationship.

Athena once again doing copaganda. Bobby coming back to the 118 without any particular struggle or even guilt about dropping the bag. Things said in interviews that we expect to happen and never even made it to the screen (Eddie's loneliness? Chim and Hen having conflict over Mara? Buck feeling guilty about injuring Gerrard?).

The way Maddie cannot have any sl that is not either tied to a man or about motherhood. Madney having another surprise baby instead of them choosing on purpose to expand their family. Hen & Karen gaining trauma after trauma about their children and not having any other sl that is not tied to that. Josh just existing in the periphery and only becoming important as the "insightful token gay" but not having any type of meaningful screen time since Carson.

The other side characters like Sue, Ravi, Linda, Carla completely disappearing without anyone mentioning them. Ravi has not been given any important sl ever since he talked about having cancer and ever since reduced as a comic relief without anything to add to his character but he's a "landlord".

Chris is out of the picture for who knows how long, and is basically kept around to be traumatized over and over again. Eddie hasn't gotten any character development until first s5 and seemingly now, but i'd argue that the whole thing just felt rushed because what do you mean it takes one chat with a priest for him to do a 180° while he still isn't talking to Chris? And Eddie was the one who got the best treatment of all of them this season.

It's the way this show is slowly chipping itself away. It's the way they start a queer story line promising it would be impactful and handled with care and then half-assing it a best. It's the way the other queer characters are never explored and able to breath and revel in their queerness in the first place. Because, really, when was the last time Hen and Karen kissed on screen? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time their arcs were not about children or getting hurt, but just about them as individuals? And on this thread what about Maddie? Or Josh? Or Chim? Or Eddie?

Everything feels reused again and again and again without no real development than then starting the circle all over in half a season.

What a waste.

[warningsine]

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/02/world/europe/france-husband-rape-drug-trial-mazan.html

For years, she had been losing hair and weight. She had started forgetting whole days, and sometimes appeared to be in dreamlike trances. Her children and friends worried she had Alzheimer’s.

But in late 2020, after she was summoned to a police station in southern France, she learned a far more shattering story.

Her husband of 50 years, Dominique Pelicot, had been crushing sleeping pills into her food and drink to put her into a deep sleep, the police said, and then raping her. He had ushered dozens of men into her home to film them raping her, too, they said, in abuse that lasted nearly a decade.

Using the man’s photographs, videos and online messages, the police spent the next two years identifying and charging those other suspects.

On Monday, 51 men, including Mr. Pelicot, went on trial in Avignon, in a case that has shocked France and cast a spotlight on the use of drugs to commit sexual abuse and the broader culture in which such crimes could occur.

The accused men represent a kaleidoscope of working-class and middle-class French society: truck drivers, soldiers, carpenters and trade workers, a prison guard, a nurse, an I.T. expert working for a bank, a local journalist. They range in age from 26 to 74. Many have children and are in relationships.

Most are charged with raping the woman once. A handful are accused of returning as many as six times to rape her.

The victim, Gisèle, who has divorced her husband and changed her surname since his arrest, is now in her 70s.

Since his arrest, Mr. Pelicot, 71, has “always declared himself guilty,” said Béatrice Zavarro, his lawyer. “He is not at all contesting his role.”

Other defendants have denied the rape charges, with some arguing that they had the husband’s permission and thought that was sufficient, while others claimed they believed the victim had agreed to be drugged.

When the police showed Gisèle some of the photographs they say her husband had carefully classified and stored, she expressed deep shock. She and her husband had been together since they were 18. She had described him to the police as caring and considerate.

She had no memory of being raped, by him or the other men, only one of whom she recognized, she told the police, as a neighbor in town.

The first time she will consciously witness the rapes, her lawyer Antoine Camus says, will be in the courtroom when the video recordings are played as evidence.

The trial comes at a moment of heightened scrutiny of the handling of sexual crimes in the country. Rape is defined in French law as an “act of sexual penetration” committed “by violence, coercion, threat or surprise.” A number of feminist lawmakers want to amend that wording to say explicitly that sex without consent is rape, that consent can be withdrawn at any time, and that consent cannot exist if sexual assault is committed “by abusing a state impairing the judgment of another.”

“There is a kind of naïveté on the topic of predators in France, a kind of denial,” said Sandrine Josso, a lawmaker who led a parliamentary commission into what is known in France as “chemical submission” — drugging someone with malicious intent. She started the commission after she says she became the victim of a drugging last year. A senator is being investigated on accusations that he slipped Ecstasy into her Champagne.

Ms. Josso hopes that the Avignon trial will draw attention to the use of drugs to prey on women, and also shed light on the wide profile of predators. “They could be your neighbors, without falling into paranoia,” she said.

Mr. Pelicot seemed like a classic man next door. He was a trained electrician, an entrepreneur and an avid cyclist. His middle child and only daughter, Caroline Darian, her pen name, described him as a warm and present father in a book published in 2022 about the case, “And I Stopped Calling You Papa.” She tried to turn her family trauma into action, forming a nonprofit association, “Don’t Put Me to Sleep,” to publicize the dangers of drug-facilitated crimes.

Her father, she wrote, was the one who drove her to school, picked her up late from parties, encouraged her and consoled her. Her mother was the stable breadwinner, working as a manager in a Paris-area company for 20 years.

When Gisèle retired, they moved to a house with a big garden and pool in Mazan, a small town northeast of Avignon. The couple regularly hosted their three children and grandchildren for summer vacations peppered with late dinners on the terrace, where the family debated, held dance competitions and played Trivial Pursuit.

“I think of us as happy,” his daughter wrote. “I thought my parents were.”

None of them harbored any suspicions. Then, in 2020, three women reported Mr. Pelicot to the police for trying to use his camera to film up their skirts in a grocery store, and he was arrested.

The police seized his two cellphones, two cameras and his electronic devices, including his laptop, before releasing him on bail.

On the devices, the police say they found 300 photographs and a video of an unconscious woman being sexually assaulted by many people. They said they also found Skype messages in which the man boasted of drugging his wife and invited men to join him in having sex with her while she was unconscious.

Over the course of their investigation, the police found more than 20,000 videos and photographs, many of them dated and labeled, in an electronic folder titled “abuse.” The timeline they built began in 2011. The list of suspects grew to 83.

Two months after his initial arrest, Mr. Pelicot was arrested again and charged with aggravated rape, drugging and a list of sexual abuse charges. He is also accused of violating the privacy of his wife, daughter and two daughters-in-law on suspicion of illegally recording, and at times distributing, intimate photos of them.

If he is found guilty, he faces up to 20 years in prison.

During interviews with the police, the details of which were included in an overview of the case by the investigative judge, Mr. Pelicot said he began drugging his wife so he could do things to her, and dress her in things, that she normally refused. Then he started inviting others to participate. He said he never asked for or accepted money.

He met most of the men, the investigating judge’s report stated, in a chat room on a notorious, unmoderated French website implicated in more than 23,000 police cases in France alone from 2021 to 2024. It was finally shut down, and its owner arrested, in June after an 18-month investigation stretching across Europe.

The chat room where most of the men met Mr. Pelicot was called “a son insu,” which means “without their knowledge.”

Over the years, Mr. Pelicot told the police, he developed rules for the visitors to ensure that his wife did not wake: no smoking or cologne; undress in the kitchen; warm hands under hot water or on a radiator, so their cold touch would not jolt her. At the end of each night, according to the investigating judge’s report, he cleaned his wife’s body.

Of the 83 suspects, the police identified and charged 50.

Only one of the men is not charged with rape, assault or attempted rape of Mr. Pelicot’s wife. Instead, that man is accused of following the same model, and drugging his own wife to rape her. Mr. Pelicot is also charged with raping the man’s wife while she was drugged.

Five of the men also face charges for possessing child sexual abuse imagery.

Mr. Pelicot is also being investigated in the rape and murder of a 23-year-old woman in 1991 and the attempted rape of a 19-year-old in 1999. He admitted to the attempted rape, according to Florence Rault, the lawyer representing the victims in both cases, but denies any involvement in the 1991 homicide.

The story has prompted some soul-searching among doctors, since Gisèle had visited gynecologists and neurologists over a series of mystifying symptoms, but had received no diagnosis, according to her daughter.

“What I found disturbing for us doctors was that no doctor considered this hypothesis,” said Dr. Ghada Hatem-Gantzer, a well known obstetrician-gynecologist and expert in violence against women. She and a pharmacist, Leila Chaouachi, have now developed training for doctors and nurses on the symptoms that victims of drug-facilitated assault can experience.

Contrary to popular belief, most cases occur at home, not at bars, said Ms. Chaouachi, who runs annual surveys on such offenses in France. Most victims are women, the surveys show, and around half of the victims do not remember the attack, because of blackouts, she said.

In the case going to court in Avignon, some of the accused admitted guilt to the police. According to the investigating judge’s report, many claimed that they were tricked into having sex with a drugged woman — lured by a husband for a three-way encounter and told she was pretending to sleep, because she was shy.

Several said they believed that she had consented to being drugged and raped as part of a sex fantasy. Some said they did not believe it was rape, because her husband was there and they believed he could consent for both of them.

“It sends shivers down the spine regarding the state of affairs in French society,” said Mr. Camus, who is also representing Ms. Darian and many other members of the family. “If that’s the conception of consent in sexual matters in 2024, then we have a lot, a lot, a lot of work to do.”

[lucytara]

a prompt for every week of the year

awhile ago, i created my own writing prompts along the lines of an old livejournal writing community called 52 flavours, whose prompts were always beautiful and abstract and poetic and evocative. these types of prompts have sort of become lost to fandom in favor of more straightforward and simplistic ones (which never inspire me much, personally) so as i start to post fics i'm writing to these prompts, i figured i might as well post the actual prompt list for anyone to use!

the distant glitter of the January sun

back then, everything was music

at the violet hour

the world begins at the kitchen table

it felt just like February; what had been falling snow was beating loudly in the street

Listen. Even the ocean begs.

still without sound

unsure of where to settle down for the night

March is a month of storms and lust

we’ve been alive just long enough

I wrote “valley” when I meant “longing”

you saw me one Friday afternoon and decided you should love me

I know I have been dreaming

April is the cruelest month

all this fucking with no hands on me

I’d write about you a lot more than I should

to put on your best outfit and feel like you’re dressing a wound

to be held by something reluctant to let go

Late in May as the light lengthens

I worry that love is violence

I’ve been trying to go home my whole life–

you can put your strength down

I wasn’t fooled. I knew you at once.

It is June. Let’s hope someone is kind, just in time

bend in a thousand directions

your smell was never unfamiliar

even hunger can become a space to live in

a kind of undressing

the July night is a song

you, you, and only you

they cannot exist without setting each other on fire

in your hand, its shaky penmanship, my own paper-thin nerves

staying up all night for it

the August sun, returning everything that was taken away—

and maybe love still smolders in my heart

the reverse of being haunted

I want I want I want

a day of rain; the kind you think will never end

September tastes of ashes 

the museum of past lives

maybe a meteor or maybe a phone call or maybe a sudden shift in atmosphere

an old, old wound about to heal or about to bleed

the ache of everything unsaid

October is a thick and hollow bone

the difference between intimacy and radical intimacy

I caught you forgetting me

the wish for winter

Will you forgive me these November days?

amazing how long a ruined thing will burn

Look, you said, sunlight.

All my stories are about being left; all of yours are about leaving. We should have known.

It is December and we must be brave.

[starstruckmoony]

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined &lt;3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once. 

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident. 

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?" 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie. 

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you slid over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing." 

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway. 

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant. 

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry. 

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

[rheakira]

I've come to temporarily break my hiatus to bring up something deeply important. Because after a recent event, if I have to go another day without talking about it, I don't know what I'll do.

Fandoms have an enormous issue when it comes to bigotry and people feeling comfortable enough to be openly bigoted.

And I want to make it clear: everyone is capable of it. In fact, most people do it more often than they don't. But because this strange myth has been built up that if you aren't "blatantly saying slurs" or "killing others" it can't possibly be bigotry, we have done nothing but become dangerous behind closed doors.

If your friend has odd beef with a person of color in the fandom and holds them to standards they don't hold their white friends to, that is bigotry. If your friend feels some sort of way about the trans person in your friend group and tries to come up with reasons for why they specifically can't stay, that is also bigotry. If your group insists that a person with a personality disorder is making it up just for attention and uses that as a reason for why they can't be around them, that is bigotry as well.

I've never been upfront about it because... why do I, as a human being, need to be upfront about my identity when people randomly decide what I am? But I am in fact a person of color who is queer and disabled. Whenever I join a fandom group that is mostly white people, I am liked until this is discovered. And then I watch as people get brutal about things I do or say. Things that they don't do to other people in the group, and I also watch as they take my words and either twist them for convenience or ruin my reputation for it.

As a marginalized person, both in fandom and out, you are held to a unique standard that does not apply to other human beings around you. It makes doing what you love very difficult, because unfortunately as a marginalized person, people will always subconsciously side with the person trying to oppress or attack you. This has happened to me my entire life, from school to work spaces to even internet spaces claiming to be safe places.

People will say that they care about you and like you and even form a friendly bond with you, but the moment a person of privilege decides they do not like you very much, they can and will side with the other person even without proof of their issues with you. It's exhausting and ruins lives in places that should be fun and safe.

I am on my umpteenth experience with this exact cycle and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel like I couldn't live or breath in places I should be allowed to be involved in. It's a very real problem that refuses to end because no one has the courage to challenge it. I am speaking not only on my own experiences, but for the many other people of color or queers or disabled people who simply cannot join these so called "safe spaces" because of our identities conflicting with people who have been taught that we are lesser and not worth love or care.

If this is a problem you face, please know that I see you and I love you. It's hard to keep surviving in a world that wants to hurt you and leaves you abandoned and alone. I want you to know that the world is scary, but we all exist. You should be allowed to experience joy and fun without feeling like you're being suffocated and wanting to die.

You matter. The people around you that make you feel like you don't are nothing by comparison. You matter and I truly hope that we'll one day find each other and become the safe space that we deserve.

The marginalized people in your fandom are more important than your fictional characters and plotlines that you put above us. We're here and we're not leaving. Learn to live with us and protect us.

If we're truly your friends, you would care when your privileged "friends" want to remove us.

Additionally, please do not take this rant and make it only about white people who are part of these marginalized categories. This is a post about EVERYONE. Including the people of color around you. Do not remove us from this conversation. Care about ALL OF US if you support this at all. Thank you.

[venerawrites]

Hi! I feel so blessed to have found your blog, your fluff is top tier 🫶🏻 Can I please request fluff for Kakashi x fem!reader where they take their son (who looks exactly like Kakashi) to meet Team 7 and they're all enamoured by baby Kakashi and how happy he is with wife reader? I feel like it'd be so cute~ I hope that's an alright request. Thank you so much! 😘

author's note: this is such a cute request and it has been sitting in my drafts for a while, since I have been waiting to be in the right mood for it! It was such a pleasure to write it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you for requesting! <3

If there was anything Konoha did best, it was celebrating.

Compared to many of the other villages, the Leaf had some form of a festival almost every month. The first Sakura trees have blossomed? Celebration. The war is won? Celebration. The Hokage has a birthday? Celebration. 6 months without any outside threats? Celebration.

For the outsiders these constant festivities were both bizzare and a bit foolish. They could only imagine how much money were spend from the yearly budget, yet somehow the village blossomed economically. The other Kages tried to ask Lady Tsunade more than once in the past how exactly do they manage to do that, but they could never get anything more than a smug smile from her.

You, unlike your husband, loved a good party. During events like this everything felt different - the people were happier, the streets were busier, even the air felt more fresh! You have been waiting for the Spring festival for a while now - not only because you loved trying all the delicious street food, but also because this year you were taking your baby with you.

Being only a few months old, your son was an exact copy of Kakashi. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, even the way he pouted was absolutely the same as your partner. There were times when you sat next to his crib, looking at him for hours, trying to find at least one thing in his appearance that he may took after you. While there were none, you found solace in the fact that he showed at least some traits of your personality - the main one being obsessed with Kakashi, of course.

As you watched your husband gently rocking your child in his arms and whispering sweet words to him, you couldn't stop the smile from spreading wide on your lips. Kakashi hasn't noticed your presence by the door yet, too busy booping your baby's nose and listening to his happy laughter.

He was definitely the favourite parent.

"I can't believe I carried him for nine months and I am still the second best in his eyes", you finally said, making Kakashi whip his head in the direction of your voice. He smiled sheepishly at you, his one free arm extending for you to take.

"You know that is not true, my dove", he tried to reassure you, his attention moving back to the bundle of joy who kept twitching in his grip, "No one can replace mommy! Isn’t that right, little man?"

Almost if understanding his words, the baby turned toward you, reaching one of his small hands toward your face. You immediately melted at the gesture, before carefully grabbing it in yours and lying numerous small kisses on his little fingers.

“Do we really have to go?”, your husband groaned, looking at you pleadingly. If it was up to him the three of you would stay in your house, enjoying a cosy evening just playing and goofing around the living room. With his new role as a Hokage, your time together was limited anyway and he liked to grab any chance he got to spend a few hours with you at home.

“You were the one that promised Naruto you would finally let him see the baby”, you cocked one of your eyebrows and Kakashi immediately shut his mouth, knowing he cannot argue further.

Even since you told Team 7 that you are pregnant, Naruto has shown an enormous enthusiasm about welcoming the baby. He self proclaimed himself “the best uncle to ever exist” and has bought dozen of plush toys and clothes before you even found what the gender is. Both you and Kakashi found this amusing, yet cute, promising him that he would be one of the first people to see your son once he is born.

However, things didn't go as planned and since he was on a mission outside Konoha for the last three months and a half, Naruto was now one of the last people to meet your child. Sakura has asked you countless of times during this period to let her and Sasuke come to your house, but feeling it was unfair to Naruto, you refused every single time.

Now that the blonde was back, however, all three were eagerly waiting to meet the young Hatake.

Kakashi gently passed you the baby, while he went to the corridor to grab the baby carrier wrap he liked to use. One thing about your husband was that he absolutely refused to use a pram.

"It is safer for them to be close to me", he often said, not even hiding his overprotectiveness. Despite your baby already being the village's favourite, he only allowed people to watch him, but never touch him or hold him. It was almost like your son was some kind of a rare jewel, which was so delicate, it had to be admired from a far. And while you found Kakashi's behaviour funny, he was being very serious about it, going as far as to glare and hiss a warning at Guy and Genma every time they tried to pinch your baby's chubby cheeks.

Once the little one was safely wrapped against your partner, you both made your way toward the village centre, where you could already hear music sounding. The streets were flooded with both adults and children, who were all eager to try some foreign food and watch special performances. Every year there were entertainers coming from different lands, performing traditional songs and dances from their cultures. While you knew you couldn't stay for all of them, since you had to put your child to bed quite early, you were excited to see at least some.

You felt one of Kakashi's arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while he shielded your son's body with the other one. While there were none real threats or risk for any of you, the amount of people made the man anxious. You were just about to grab his hand and try to make him relax, when Naruto's loud voice sounded from somewhere in front of you.

"Kakashi-sensei! Y/N! Over here!", he waved his hands energetically in the air, while both Sasuke and Sakura looked away embarrassed from his behaviour. Your smiled at the blonde, waving back, while your husband couldn't do anything else than let out a sigh.

Once you were a few meters away, the Uzumaki ran toward you, his whole face lighting up once his eyes met those of your son. He pushed past you, without even paying any attention to you, before leaning his head close to the baby's.

" Kakashi! That's your twin, dattebayo!", he shouted and moved his finger between his sensei and your son. Kakashi flicked his hand away, glaring harshly at his student. You sniffled a laugh, before you felt Sakura's hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you offered a smile to both her and Sasuke.

"Don't touch, step back and only watch from a distance", Kakashi instructed, his eyes narrowing at Naruto. The blonde, however, didn't acknowledge his words in any way, instead turning toward you.

"Can I hold him?", he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"No!", Kakashi immediately answered for you and you rolled your eyes at your husband, before moving toward the males.

"Of course you can!", before your husband can protest, you gave him a stare and he reluctantly picked up your son from the carrier wrap. He held him in his hands for a few more seconds, eyeing Naruto with suspicion.

"Be very, very, VERY careful!", he said, while passing the wriggling baby to the boy's stretched out arms, "And make sure to support his head! No, not like that... Naruto, I swear to Kami-"

You cut off the white haired male's rambling by wrapping your arm around his waist and placing your head against his shoulder. The Uzumaki was doing just fine, but Kakashi being Kakashi started to panic just at sight of someone else holding your little treasure.

The baby seemed to like the blonde, as he giggled, stretching his small hand toward his face. Sakura, who has been patiently waiting for her sensei to relax a bit, immediately rushed to her teammate's side, uncapable of controlling herself longer. She wriggled her forefinger in front of the child's face, her heart melting once he caught it.

"Hello, little one! I am auntie Sakura!", the baby grinned at her with its toothless smile and she let out an "aww" sound, before turning to you and your husband, "Kakashi-sensei, he really is your exact copy! Y/N, are you sure that's your child?"

You laughed at her joke, before shrugging your shoulders and pressing yourself closer to Kakashi.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every single day!"

Finally tearing your gaze away from Naruto and Sakura, you looked over to Sasuke, who remained frozen in his place. His eyes were focused on the little baby and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but unlike his teammates he maintained a safe distance. Feeling someone was watching him, he turned his head in your direction, his cheeks going bright red once he realized you caught him staring.

"Sasuke", you smiled at him and everyone's attention went to the Uchiha, "Do you want to hold him too?"

The dark haired male gulped, his eyes widening. He nervously scratched his shoulder, his gaze going down to his feet.

"I...", he became silent, stealing one more glance at the baby. You found it almost amusing how he was a fearsome ninja that could take dozen of enemies at the same time, yet he felt scared to hold a tiny human.

Looking over at Naruto, you nodded your head, signalling him to pass your son to Sasuke. The blonde let out a huff, dragging his feet toward his teammate.

"Be careful! And hold the head!", he warned the Uchiha, who rolled his eyes in response.

"I know how to hold a baby, dobe! I am not stupid!"

"Language!", Kakashi warned next to you and you looked up at him, only for him to shake his head. It must've been hard dealing with these two for so many years, yet you knew your husband wouldn't had it any other way.

At this moment, surrounded by so much love and happiness, you felt like you finally had everything you wanted in life - an amazing husband, a healthy child and enormous support by anyone around you. If you could choose to re-live only one moment of your life, it would be this.

"You okay, my dove?", Kakashi whispered and you nodded your head, laying a small kiss on his covered chin.

"Never been better."

Unbeknown to you, all of Team 7 smiled at both of you, admiring how happy their sensei was. After decades of suffering and loss, Kakashi took the leap of faith and opened his heart to you. While he was unsure in the beginning if he was ready to be with someone and have a family, looking back he was glad he did.

Pulling down his mask, he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against it.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

cc artwork: Pietro Smurra

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

Day 1 — Soulmates ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @goldengroovy's @olnfweek2024

MC: Micha

Long ass ramble under the cut 😂

Okayokayokay SO-

I love soulmate au's. I cannot tell you how many fics I've read or how many prompts I've played with or media I've consumed or how many bullshit ideas I've come up with in my own head for them, I CANNOT.

It's just - hhhhhhhhhhhh- Soulmate au's and Time Travel au's are just the shit that gets me out of bed some days 😩💖my world weary soul drinks that shit like medicine, okay?

That all being said, it's probably a little ambiguous which au I picked to some, so let me explain: There are two au's I'm mashing up here really, both are from fics I've read back in the day. One being a Clack fic and the other a Thilbo one 🤷‍♂️kind of calling myself out here but w/e, they were good fics.

The Thilbo one is easier to explain - the concept is "Heartsong" which is, literally what it says on the tin. You find out who your soulmate is the first time you hear them sing (and no, that does not mean everyone is just a naturally good singer - they can be ass at music but, the point is, when you hear them their song is the perfect song for you and your heart knows that). There's a lot of little nuances to this one - things like you hearing your heartsong when you dream so you always know the moment you find them. Also people who have quiet dreams because their heartsong died, sometimes before ever even meeting them. etc etc. The heartsong also seems to expand, in some respect, to instruments (as Thorin plays his harp one night and Bilbo starts to hum without thinking about it because it sounds wonderful to him and that's how Thorin finds out).

Overall, it's a very soft and sweet concept to me and as someone who has a deep love of music, it's also one of my very favourites.

The Clack one is a little less easy to explain? I think. Maybe because it's nuances are so round about but I'll do my best. The concept for this one is "I Only See Colour When I'm With You" - anyone who knows how Clack fics usually go knows where this is probably headed 😂 and I am sorry to have hurt you but, overall, the idea is: You live in a noir-esqu world where everything is black and white. This only changes when you find your soulmate, of course, who brings the world into full saturation and lets you see colour for - possibly - the first time in your life (I say possibly because I genuinely can't remember if you start out colourblind or if it's an age cap thing).

Unfortunately, for as much as I adore this concept, it's been a long damn time since I read the fic and I don't even know if it still exists somewhere. So I can't actually recall if it was a 'you have to touch them' or 'you have to hear them' thing but the fic takes place with Zack on the cliff right before Midgar where he holds Cloud and looks at the sky - so I'm willing to bet it's a touch thing.

I also really loved this fic because it was the first one I'd read that brought in the concept of multiple soulmates to me - As Cloud later sits with Aerith and sees the colour he couldn't see with Zack, meanwhile Aerith only sees black and white, because she was only able to see colour with Zack (who was never able to see colour with her, because he needed Cloud for that).

Essentially, they all needed each other to see the world in colour. As a polyam person who didn't quite realise I was poly back then, it was a very comforting (and now dearly cherished) fic.

Anyways! Now that you have the background on the two concepts, you can kind of get what I'm going for with this piece.

Tamarack, Micha and Qiu are all soulmates in a fuzzy, desaturated world (I'm sorry, I'm not cruel enough to but them in complete greyscale LOL) and the way you find your soulmate is by hearing them sing and, when they do, your world is suddenly vivid and bright and beautiful. Suddenly, you can see things as they were meant to be seen and it's a permanent change (unlike the Clack fic) but things are always clearest and brightest when your soulmate speaks or sings 💖

I get a real kick out of the idea that Micha's known for fucking months that Tamarack is his soulmate (if not years) because he's always listening to her play but never says jack shit about it because he's emotionally constipated that way 😂Though genuinely, it's probably because he just doesn't think he's her soulmate and he's a bit against finding out he's right honestly.

Joke is on him, he's Qiu's and Tamaracks soulmate! And he couldn't have picked a better moment to grow a pair an take the risk 🥰

[demonic0angel]

Everyone talking shit about Clockwork shoving time missions on the Phantoms. Nobody ever talks about how hard he works to keep space/time from collapsing in on itself from bad timelines.

(You’re right 😔 he needs some appreciation. I had a lot of fun with this one lmao)

Part 3 of this post and this post.

Clockwork resisted the urge to sigh as he watched another world implode via the timeline shifting from the speed force. He silently sent another note to his children workers to solve the problem. As he monitored the situation in other worlds, he kept an eye on the collapsing timeline.

Soon enough, Dan swooped in before the catalyst to beat the crap out of the person who had accidentally created a zombie apocalypse and then he was stomping his feet and throwing a rage-induced tantrum within the poor scientist’s lab, destroying everything. He was shouting and overturning tables, but couldn’t be heard through the time stream.

Clockwork resisted a sigh again. He didn’t like overworking his children employees so much either, but it had to be done.

Just as Dan left the world to rejoin his boyfriend, Clockwork continued to watch the other timelines. Three more worlds suddenly took a turn for the worst and Clockwork sent more messages to the rest of his children workers in order to fix it. He paused as the door to his lair opened and Dan burst inside.

Clockwork tried not to tense. Dan was his most volatile child employee, and he was prone to attacking anything that enraged him. Jazz had once explained that it was his coping mechanism as a decade of grief and loneliness had completely corrupted his impulse control.

Clockwork turned, pretending that he didn’t feel apprehensive about Dan’s presence. “Is there a problem…?”

Dan strode forward with a cool, almost indifferent expression. Without warning, Dan threw himself forward and onto Clockwork’s lap. Clockwork tensed, but Dan only held onto him tightly, wrapping his arms around his waist and then burying his face into his ghostly stomach.

The presence of his child someone near his stomach made him recoil tightly, but he held still.

“Clockworkkkkkk,” Dan whined. “Can’t I kill the Flashes? Please? Just one! I’ll settle for killing Wally West. Can I please kill him?”

Clockwork couldn’t help the chuckle that burst out of him. “No, you cannot. They are vital for that world’s survival.”

“They’re not vital to my sanity!”

The door burst open again and his other three children poured in, also having just finished fixing another world from collapsing. Dani immediately gasped at seeing Dan in his lap. “What! I want Clockwork cuddles too!”

The three of them joined their brother in crowding him and cuddling him, until eventually, he had all four of his children within his embrace. Clockwork released a sigh as he was forced onto his back and rubbed at Danny’s hair, who was lying on his spectral tail. Jazz leaned against him unhappily, and both Dani and Dan were laying on his stomach.

“I’m sorry for overworking you four,” Clockwork said, despite knowing that it wasn’t his fault. He had no one else to solve the problems of the Flash family, not when he was needed to watch over the time stream. “But it is necessary in order to help as many worlds as possible.”

“We don’t blame you,” Jazz said, ever the most empathetic, “it’s all of the Flashes’ faults!”

“I propose that we kill them and save us the headache!” Dan said.

Dani sighed, but also laughed. “Well, Bart is one of my best friends, but I guess he’ll have to go.”

Danny grinned and said, “Cool, I’ll take Flash.”

Clockwork smiled as his children (his wonderful, powerful, extraordinary children) started squabbling over how to kill or whether not to kill someone with the speed force. Work was difficult as someone who was devoted to protecting other timelines and worlds, but with his family by his side, life wasn’t too hard. In a way, Clockwork was almost grateful to be reborn as an Ancient.

Perhaps now, his family and existence wouldn’t end as tragically as before, with his children by his side.