#<-the fecking hell does that even mean??

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

attempting to finish chapter 4 right now and using all my inner strength to not do this:

[robynlilyblack]

Something Important

James Potter x fem! clumsy! Reader

Summary: After years of hiding that part of himself, James adores being unapologetically silly with his favourite girl

Warnings: swearing, post-hogwarts, established relationship, mentions of food, small cooking injury, eating and sex, reader bruises like a peach, kissing, flirty reader, flirty james, domestic fluff, sirius black being a terrible gamer

A/n: 1.8k words, was feeling a little James today, I've missed writing him so much I had fun with this one, enjoy ♡

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“Hi! Not someone breaking in, it's just me…y/n…you know…your girlfriend…but hopefully you already knew that! Sorry Jamie, this door…oh for fecks sake…the door is being mean to me again!” 

James chuckled along with his friends on the couch at your dumbs and whines at the door, putting his controller down he called back 

“You need help, my love?” he asks yet he’s already getting up and walking through as the door finally opens, unaware of his controller being swiped by Sirius, earning a small ‘oh no’ from Remus as he braces himself 

“No, no it’s okay…aw crap...dammit....come on...” you wave it off but then the door grabs you and you’re left trying to un-loop yourself from the handle, unfortunately it does get the better of you this time as you begin to fall, preparing for impact and one hell of a bruise to add to your already impressive collection

Luckily your knight in shining armour is there to catch you and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hit his chest “Hello my sweet” he greets you, the biggest smile on his face

You don’t even try to lift yourself up, just adjust your head, chin poking into his chest as you look up at him “Hello” you pout at him, but that lil smile of yours still peaks through “Our door is mean”

“It is” he agrees, pecking your lips sweetly before gently kicking the front foor with his foot eliciting giggles from you “Bad door” he chastises before turning his attention briefly to the living room door at the chuckling and mocking from his friends 

"You sure showed that door mate!" you hear Remus laugh

“Oh dear prongsie, now you have defeated the almighty door can you come save me from the couch, my arse has but fallen asleep!” 

"Shut it mr and mrs I can't get past the first boss to save my life" James rolls his eyes while you giggle at their offended in sync 'heys!' "Sorry ‘bout them love, don’t worry I’ll kick em out before dinner”

“Oh I assumed they’d be joining us?” you wonder

Something flashes behind his eyes “Not tonight hun” he gives you a flirty look “Tonight’s just for us” he tells you before helping you to stand properly, kissing the tips of his fingers before finding the section of your waist where you jumper got caught, rubbing it gently

You lean into his touch, even more excited than you already were for dinner tonight, all you had to do now was make sure James didn’t see too deep into one of the shopping bags, or he’d see the rather lacey treat you had bought earlier

“Come on sweetheart” James gestures for you to follow, instinctively grabbing the grocery bags that had been dropped during your battle and bringing them through to the kitchen, but not before kissing the side of your head first “I missed you”

“Ditto big guy” you throw him a wink, letting him take the lead

As you pass the living room you do poke your head in quickly to see what they had been up to, sniggering a little as you watch Sirius struggle with some muggle videogame, noting the boy is getting increasingly frustrated to the point even his boyfriend is a tad scared of him, hugging one of your pillows as if it’s to protect him.

As you enter the kitchen you watch as James lifts the bags you had struggled with home onto the counter with ease, eyes fluttering over his muscles, made more prominent by the tightness of his shirt

He’s so strong and dreamy

“So, what am I cooking for dinner?” he asks trying to discern what you actually bought before turning back only to find you unapologetically staring

He’d never admit it but he still blushed when he caught you admiring him

“Enjoying yourself?” he flexes his arm a little

Your eyes flick back up to meet him, nodding with a smug little smile “Very much, did you ask me something?” you wonder, stepping forward to join him properly

He chuckles, hand slipping around your waist “I asked what I was making for dinner?” he glances down at you, his own eyes doing a little wandering as he awaits your answer

“Actually…I was thinking I could make it for us tonight” you flashing a cheeky smile, hands finding his own, you were up to something

“What are you planing?” he eyes you teasingly

“Surprise” you sway back and forth, shrugging, ever effervescent, however, he’s called away before he could rangle any more information out of you as there's a yell from the other room

“Motherfucker!!! What the fuck was is that fucking thing…Moony darlin you seeing this shit!” 

“Oh yeah love I’m seeing it…Prongs!!”  

You burst out in quiet laughter over Sirius’' rage and Remus’ subsequent call for aid, as does James, betting his friend is almost certainly about to die…for the…bloody hell only Godric knows what time

“Crap he’s got the controller…I better go check in before Pads throws the controller again and actually breaks the tv this time” James lets out a breathy laugh, moving around you but stops before he lets go of your hand “You sure you’ll be alright?” he checks in, and when you nod he steals a quick kiss from you before he leaves…plus a cheeky arse squeeze

A couple hours pass by and it’s time for the other boys to go, just as James had finally convinced Sirius to leave without the game, sparing Remus from a premature heart attack, you appear in the doorway shouting a quick goodbye

“I love them but we are going to need to find less rage enducing…” James closes the door, locking up as he speaks but trails off as he turns around spotting your rather chaotic looking state “...did the kitchen fight back?” he can’t help the chuckle that bubbles

He takes a moment to cherish your appearance, it’s almost like a game to him, trying to figure out what you made him based on the ingredients adorning your clothes. The main culprit seems to be flour, your once black tights and skirt now littered with hand prints as you swiped them clean, though there were no new holes so little wins. He saw some littering of what he can only imagine is various spices on the ends of your rolled up sleeves…and one failed attempt in the centre of your jumper to open what he would later learn was cinnamon.

“I won though!” he’s pulled away from his admiring as you jump a little, excited as you waddle happily up to him 

“Merlin sweets you had anymore food on you you’d be a…ooo that’s good” he reaches out, thumb gently clearing the remnants of what seems to be a delicious creamy sauce from your cheek “What kind of cheese is this?” he enquires, licking his lips before finding your eyes but their lingering a little south of his own, basking in your reaction as he teases you, running his tongue along his lips

“I know you’re doing that on purpose…” your eyes finally break away, finding his own “...but don’t stop” you near beg

He laughs “Never” leaning down, one hand finding your chin, angling it upwards towards his lips while the other subtly removes what he now realises is a carrot from your hair “Now do you want to show me your masterpiece?” he nudges his nose gently against yours

“Yes” you buzz, practically vibrating with excitement as you take his hands in yours but as you do James notices the plaster on your hand “Hun?” you turn back 

“Aww sweetheart, what happened?” he brings your hand up, inspecting it before faux worry floods his handsome features “I’m so sorry my love but…” he takes a break, shaking his head “...we’re going to have to cut it off”

You match his energy “What!” you exclaim “Oh great heavens! Whatever will I do?” dramatically bringing you palm to your forehead 

James’ struggles to keep in character though, his heart always warmed when you were silly with him, it was times like these that made him absolutely sure you were the one for him 

“Hmmm” he rubs his chin in thought “There may be one way we can fix this but I have to tell you it’s a risky procedure”

“Do it, I’ll give you anything oh handsome handsome doctor” you clasp your hands together, pleading with him

He smirks “Indeed…I am a very handsome doctor, so I expect to be rewarded handsomely for my work” he informs you, wiggling his eyebrows

You purse your lips attempting to suppress your growing smile “Of course! Now please save my finger” you hold it up to him

He gently takes it with one hand, using the other to perform fake magic as mutters some fake incantation under his breath, throwing a wink your way before he presses his lips every so softly to your ‘mortal wound’ 

He gives your hand back and as he does you hold it up, bending your finger as you check it works “I’m cured!! It’s a miracle” eyes lighting up as you cheer, beginning to laugh near the end finally breaking character, a cheesy smile on your face as you look up at him

He drops his own act, a loving smile adorning his features as he cups your cheeks “Merlin I love you so much” his words drip with such verity, eyelashes finding audience with his cheeks as his smile widens further

“I love you mo-” he squeezes your cheeks together halting your words before the daily battle of ‘who loves whom more’ transpires

“Nuh huh missy” he pecks your puckered lips before releasing you “You definitely okay?” his playful nature sinks back into concerned boyfriend for a moment, even with all the fun and games he always checked in

You nod “Just just a little nick while I was grating the cheese” you explain 

“Good” he scrunches his nose a little, bending down slightly as his brings your finger up one more, isolating it from the others “Because one day this one is going to hold something very important” James almost falls in love all over again as he watches the sheer giddiness that takes hold on you at the insinuation “You going to keep it safe for me?”

He’s surprised you don’t get dizzy with how firm your nodding is “With my life” you promise, holding your hand to your heart 

“Did that break you a bit?” he wonders, soft laugher escaping his lips when you let out a little hum “You want to show me to dinner before you implode?” 

You hum again, grabbing his hand as you lead him towards the your feast, unaware you won’t have to keep that finger safe for long as in a little drawer by your dining table lays that something important

Thank you for reading ♡

[dwestfieldblog]

THE SUBSTANCE ABUSER

Saw a nicely relevant hand written notice inside a car behind the windscreen last week; ‘Broken down, awaiting recovery’. Microcosms of our countries, as most of us are, subsumed by the Group Mind or else in private hells, with some driving on hubs to reach the breaker’s yard themselves. Hello.

The Untied Kingdom…In the school holidays, on the Dystopian prison island and playground for the wealthy, we see rich insincere idiot Sunak talking tough on AI but refusing to regulate it with an iota of the EU’s foresight, which is prohibiting predictive policing and biometric categorisation…while we are yet to ban anything. Mass facial scanning of passers-by continues. Let alone the DNA samples taken and kept even when suspect is proven innocent. We still have the greatest number of cameras per capita of any country in the world.

Another water/foulage company…Affinity Water’s new campaign, ‘Help save our streams’. Save our income streams more like. The arrogance of all these people, directly responsible for turning our rivers into sewers AND THEN charging higher water bills to clean their mess, are now asking us to protect the precious liquid they polluted with filth. And no demonstrations, just middle-class letters to the editor. The chemtrails conspiracy is utter bullpie in the sky but perhaps hormones in the water are making us so emptily passive en masse.

The glass will say when. Fill yer boots. Eat the fruit but don’t take root.

The foul TV station GB news to be ‘more opinion orientated’ …MORE? So therefore, less actual NEWS. Rather than actually being any good, just get some mentally unstable (well, who isn’t?) talking heads to spout self-informed rubbish. Nobody on GB news has even heard of sanity. But good for the retarded classes who just want their worst fears and hypocrisies confirmed on an hourly hypnotic basis. Thus, not even re-programming, just topping up what they already think. So, not a news channel. An opinion channel. Our Fox.

So, what’s the M.O for today? Manic Optimism is telling yourself you are not a star but a fecking UNIVERSE baby. Nice pick-up line if said with enough enthusiasm and twinkle. Sounds like Zaphod Beeblebrox… (cracking cultural reference there for any reader under the age of sixty.) Equilibrium…give the mad Orpheus self-help a couple of days over the usual mental self-harm. From the downward facing God to the cuddly Buddha position…Ah, that’s better.

‘Here’s the thing about feelings, they’re so much easier to control than facts’. Which neatly segways into a rant on religion and politics. Yippee eh?

Sweden now allowing protestors to burn not only the Koran but the Torah and the Bible too. Seems a bit well, pointless. Does freedom of speech in democratic countries mean the right to deliberately cause offence? Taunting self-righteous psychopaths is rarely an intelligent move, as, being credulous cretins, they are unable to choose whether or not they will be offended…as their default position is instant attack against insults to their invisible sky wizard. Predictable fury from the old-time religions (they aren’t actually the oldest but they stamp their indignant little feet louder than the pagans). What difference does it make to God whether a bloody book is burned or not? How the fook can an eternal immortal feel insulted anyway? People, huh? But when the bear is out of the cage, perhaps not better to poke it.

Iran’s ‘morality’ police are back making headscarf checks…that will end well again. These old beards and turbans will never get it. All these mainstream lunatics desperately wishing things to be reversed a thousand years in the face of constant evolution. ‘Taken from a narrow view of time’. (Harper, Roy.) And the Taliban burning ‘immoral’ musical instruments. Scum. Love the bleakest blackest irony that the word Talib means seeker of knowledge. The (don’t laugh, get angry) Vice and Virtue Ministry said playing music would ‘cause the youth to go astray.’ One of the instruments was a harmonium. The ‘Christians’ in the US who are rabidly against the rights of women to have abortion have a very similar mentality. Book burners and mask burners. ‘Family values’.

The Q Onans… more and more of them going back on their former desperate, sincere apologies and pleas for mercy in the face of 20 years in prison. Now regretting only that they agreed they were guilty in the face of filmed evidence. ‘Patriotic heroes’ who ransacked and caused deaths. Attempting to undo a provable reality by claiming to be ‘political prisoners’ ‘on the correct side of history’. 5 deaths caused by their idiot rampage. Egged on by…

If Trump wins... ‘determined to stay in power’, ranting about an ‘unamerican witch hunt’…still trying to conflate his foul warped child monster with actual facts to rouse the Christian (hahaha) ‘right’ and storm the streets. If ever a man was guilty of everything he has been charged with (so far) it is Trump. LOOK AT HIM. A man who sold his soul many decades ago and still thinks he got the better deal because he is a great businessman. Archetypal alpha male ego scum.

I am all for disbelief in all governments, exposing hypocrisy, demonstrating, yadda yadda blah blah, but if you feel like a cool rebel and then follow a walking colostomy bag like Donald, or some new age shite because you are too hip for organised religions, then you might just have exchanged downwards for the greater of two evils. Make America great again by deviating from the mainstream political world and drowning in the insane anarchy of a clown king.

America is fairly big, don’t they have ANYONE AT ALL who is better than Biden and Trump? If the Orange Child beast wins, America is finished. At least Biden is not clearly evil. Just useless and ancient. I have been coming to the point where it seems to me that if ‘Satan’ (as the yanks believe him to be) exists, he is firmly in control of the right wing ‘Christians’ now. There is an uneasy sense that the Devil (invented by the ‘Christians’), has been in charge of the Church for many centuries. How else to explain the venal greed, hatred, lack of tolerance and support of corruption and blatant lies with which the evil angelicals conduct their business? Mass possession? A case of becoming what you fear and bringing it into your life? Negative visualisation works. Beware.

Self-fulfilling prophecy to imagine characters in a fairytale so vividly when the Preacher speaks that you create them on the non-corporeal planes around you and feed them in a vicious circle. They exist because of your daily thoughts and in order to survive, need you to continue bleeding your energy into them, thus making them seem more and more real. Until they ARE. And you WERE. Now just a scared and angry vessel, a weapon and cannon fodder to be used by those who have a primitive cynical glee of understanding of how to manipulate automatons in order to gain further control, wealth and power.

Polonium Putin absorbing Wagner (which apparently ‘never existed’ in ‘legality’) into his baby-faced maw. Andrej Troshev the new leader, previously sanctioned by the EU for his disgusting role in the Syrian civil war with the mercenaries. Adolf and his ‘special military operation’ while now conscripting pensioners says he does not reject the idea of peace talks…but not while the Ukrainian army is on the offensive. Arf. Still wilfully missing the point. Russia invaded Ukraine, and has no right whatsoever to get on their high horse when Crimea, an illegal annex is attacked for munition dumps and bridges carrying weapons. How dare they take umbrage at retaliation while kidnapping children and bombing civilian populations?  But gimp number one Medvedev just had to raise his over compensating ranting about using a nuclear weapon if Ukraine took back what he called ‘our land’. And he thinks Biden is crazy.

Igor Girkin, may you slowly rot in prison.

Netanyahu joining the club of corrupt despots who change the law to avoid prosecution and extend their reign. Bibi trying to unite Israel by stirring up shite in Palestine so they remember the common enemy outside rather than yet another right-wing populist decaying his country from within via ‘reforms’ to serve only himself and cronies. How weak are the Knesset? We are finding out. When a supreme court can no longer review government decisions which according to law are dodgy, then democracy is undermined. The centre is being hollowed out. Same as in UK and the US. But woops, can’t say anything negative about Benny because that would be antisemitic. No, it damn well isn't.

Elon rebrands Twatter with a black X... his ‘global town square’? With a million village idiots. He is still on for a cage fight mano e mano with Marky boy… Zuckerberg is clearly a cyborg, his robot jujitsu would pummel Musk, unless he sends a four-dimensional solid light hologram controlled by thought. Social media is just a little bit lot shite. But not having instant access to T and F has meant more time to read BOOKS.

Have a happy vison of climate change deniers either clinging to the peak of the last melting iceberg before drowning, or else burning alive with skin cancer in Spring and Autumn. Plant trees. Eat less meat. But Just Stop Oil are pricks.

And oh yes, the Gulf Stream…The tipping point for the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Current is coming faster, ‘the collapse of this vital system of regulating global weather patterns will mean more extreme winters, a further rise of sea waters and a shifting of the monsoon in the tropics’. Again, scientists have been warning of this for quite a while, and again, treated as if they were mere doom prophets seeking only to fund their research…by those with vested interests in the worst polluters and those who believe God will save us all. Scum and idiots. As early as 2025 or more likely between 2039 and 2070. A deep-sea Rubicon. Your grandchildren will inherit a wasteland. Watch Interstellar.

‘We are destroyed by our own plan’. Lemmy

Meanwhile, on my extended sabbatical and immersing myself in Art, I am deliberately inducing Stendhal Syndrome to the point of hallucinating ecstasy and self ID as an angel on Sunday mornings.

‘How you do anything, is how you do everything’. Remembering that quote on a loop tends to focus the mind at the same time as feeling ashamed when being half hearted.  Dream harder as Mike Scott would say…enjoy the school holidays…Rise in Love.

[rosiewitchescottage]

Like many other situations, this doesn't need to be an all one way or the other situation.

Which shows how important it is for those of us more towards the middle to say our piece, get some balance in there.

Do I think that every drag queen (whether gay, straight or bi) is a danger to children? Absolutely not.

The same way that I reject the idea that to be gay is automatically to be a danger to children.

(Predators against children don't exactly go about with a neon sign announcing their intentions, for goodness sake.

They can come from any and all areas of society.)

That being said. If Drag Queen events with children are going to be acceptable to most people, then either there needs to be stricter ruling around what the queens can and can't do. Or exisiting rules need to be applied far more strictly.

Those who do it wrongly need to be called out for it, by everyone.

The videos showing queens twerking and lap dancing for children, the clip with a queen with her boobs and ass all but bare, leading a tiny child around the auditorium, children encouraged to dance for tips, fully clothed, on a Disney theme, yes. But this is what they do in adults only clubs.

Keep this stuff away from children!

These might be rare occurrences, I don't know, one way or the other. But it doesn't matter, a damn. None of this should be going on with children. Not no way, not no how.

I have a very broad mind. But I haven't lost sight of the need for a boundary.

And anything that belongs in the adult realm shouldn't be introduced to children and young teens. A huge great NO WAY to that.

Kink at Pride - I love kink. But I also know that it's for consenting adults only. So, how the hell does it belong out on public streets?!

Has every adult there given their consent to witness these kinks?

And, even if they have. What are you going to do, tell the general public to keep their children indoors, for the duration of the parade? FFS! I can't believe this even needs saying.

Saying that it shouldn't be on public display is not because I think it shameful. Not even close.

Kink should have a place at Pride, yes indeed.

But why not an adults only event, where you pay at the door/gate, are told what you're likely to witness, and by coming in you are consenting to see what you see?

To my mind that frees everyone to relax and have a good time.

Child Drag Queens - Desmond is Amazing etc? No, No, No! My heart breaks for those sweet boys.

If this was just boys dressing up in OTT glam and sparkles, then performing in a child appropriate way, for family audiences, then I'd say, go for it.

But we've seen too much to the contrary. On stage in a fecking adult drag club, performing like exotic dancers, with guys throwing money!

What Madness is this? Doesn't the innocence of childhood mean anything, anymore?

Sexually explicit books in school libraries - Again. I can't believe that this needs saying. But sexual explicit material doesn't belong on children or teens bookshelves.

Talk about some men loving other men, some women loving other women, yes.

Talk about safe sex and healthy relationships, yes.

But explicit details/pictures about masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, PiV sex.

No, no, no! There's no way that children and young teens need details like this.

And small children do NOT need to know about 'gender identity'. There are an infinite number of things for their amazing little minds to discover, and 'gender identities' are way at the bottom of the list.

Little children explore and experiment all the time. How about we let them just got on with it, as they stand.

Your son loves to dress up as Snow White? So let him. Doesn't mean he isn't a boy.

Your daughter could be that lovely old fashioned thing a 'tom boy', let her be. She's still a girl.

He and she will keep on exploring, they'll try out a whole range of interests and self expression. They can do that without us peddling a confusing array of labels.

There's a positive banquet of literature for young children, from the classics across generations, to new delights waiting to be discovered.

Stories where children have two daddies or two mummies, yes, some people think even that's going too far. I disagree. It's going to be rarer in some places than others. But I don't see any harm in children knowing that some families are just like their own and others aren't.

I remember being told by an early years teacher, that it's important for little ones to have learning experiences that correspond with things that are part of their world, because this is how they will understand them at this time of life.

How on earth does 'gender identity' fit that criteria? Serious question here.

A male boy can learn that he can be a boy in any way that's right for him.

A female girl can learn that she can be a girl in any way that's right for her.

I'd say that this is what gender non conformity should look like if it must be introduced to tiny tots.

Imagine how knowing that will open the world up for them.

[ayakinari]

every once in a while i listen to yakimochi no kotae again and go ohhhhh this is how my brain has been rewired beyond repair

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

:(；ﾞﾟ'ωﾟ'):

[rukia-simp]

Rukia’s Feelings

Let's discuss feelings in Bleach because there's a lot of double standards here and it hurts me to watch people think they've "debunked" arguments but they only told a vague fairy tale. That's why I'm saying that Rukia had fallen in love earlier than you think. In fact I would even say that she fell in love before Orihime. Orihime may have had a crush on Ichigo first, but she never said “love” until the arrancar saga.

Rukia fell in love first. In fact there's textual evidence for this. We all know this iconic scene. Kubo was never into romantic tales, however he wouldn't pull this BS out of his ass for shits and giggles. He's not that kind of writer. Every scene has purpose! Stop the disrespect!

This scene isn't meant for fanservice. It's meant for setting up motive. Why does Rukia want to leave?

Before I answer that. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what literary analysis calls DRAMATIC IRONY. In which the audience knows something that characters might not know. For example like when we know Isshin is a Shinigami, but Ichigo doesn't know. We know Rukia's true feelings but Ichigo and other people don't because they obviously can't read her inner monologue. Ichigo can't read her motives until her tears tell him the truth. Now to answer the original question above. She left because she was afraid that if she stayed any longer in the living world, her already developing feelings would make it harder to leave later on. She needed to get out of Ichigo's proximity so that her attachment can't be used as leverage or puts him in danger. After all it was her emotional attachment to Kaien that allows her to identify every emotion that she's feeling at this moment in the story. She doesn't want to bring Ichigo the same demise as Kaien. It's because of her emotions that Kaien's death hit her so hard. Without emotions and that attachment to Kaien, it would have been just another death in the Soul Society. Why is this important? Because Rukia's trying to learn from her past. Ichigo's stubbornness messes up her plan, but it's also what ends up saving them in the long term. She runs away with the hope of forgetting all of her experiences with Ichigo. Ichigo did the same thing Kaien did with Rukia in the 13th division. Ichigo didn't make her feel alone or like an outcast. They both treated her the way she always hoped people would treat her. With respect, and as an equal. She never wanted to be put down nor be put on a pedestal because of her last name. Or because of her rank. But everyone did, even her future husband. The only two people who canonically didn’t was Ichigo and his cousin. Rukia just has a weak side for men like that. Rukia has a type unlike Orihime. We know why she loves Ichigo, but there's no clear reason as to why Orihime does. It's very broad, and not narrowed down to a specific reason. Which makes her crush easy to attack with no actual solid defense. I can tell you EXACTLY where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship changed from salty coworkers to immediately more than friends. I've reread Bleach multiple time, and have yet to see the exact moment where Ichigo and Orihime's feelings change. Most of it looks like it's offscreen.

Just so no one gets confused. I'm referring to this scene. This was where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship could never go back to being coworkers and friends.

Anyways, people like to argue that Orihime is the one that likes him so she is guaranteed that "happy" ending. I call BS because Nel and Riruka had just as much infatuation with our protagonist, but all I see is them getting the short end of the stick. Orihime IS NOT SPECIAL. But Rukia IS special. This woman "COINCIDENTALLY" has a paralleled past to our protagonist. She "COINCIDENTALLY" spent Ichigo's entire past arc as his only form of foundation and support. And she "COINCIDENTALLY" is the one to be asked about HER feelings because she's not as open about her emotions, since she's a SHINIGAMI. Shinigami have LITERALLY been taught to not be emotional. Duty before love. Rukia's characterization and occupation don’t allow her to confess straight up. Orihime has the privilege of no limitations. Rukia isn't as lucky! Why the hell would Kubo emphasize this so much for it be a fecking dead end?!

But that's why Rukia's confession is in the form of denial. Because in order to keep her IN CHARACTER, Kubo needs to write a confession that sounds like Rukia. He must emphasize how strong her feelings are. They are so strong that they overcome her usual stoicism, sternness.

Byakuya himself knew that Rukia only showed this much emotion towards Kaien. That's why he concluded that there's something special about Ichigo. He has identified the pattern.

All of this had purpose. I refuse to believe it was all for nothing. This scene was a confession, and just a sad reminder that unfortunately Ichigo and Rukia's ending was always on a tight rope. He put too much effort into their relationship. He put a freakish amount of effort into their relationship. And honestly this makes the story make more sense, in my opinion. Think about it like this. If Rukia was not in love in this scene then it wouldn’t be as memorable in the Ichiruki fandom. And Rukia would be a completely different character. By Rukia already having feelings they stimulate Ichigo into finding out his own feelings (which is in the Lost Agent Arc). And it makes sense because Rukia might fall easier, but she’s more passive when it comes to answering to her desires. Just look back at her past with Kaien, and her reaction towards his wife. She’s not the type to pursue feelings. But Ichigo is more aggressive than her. But he’s more dense as well. Ichigo is the type to initiate the relationship, but he has to be aware of it. How can you be aware of it if your dense? I mean the fact that Ichigo is dense about Orihime’s blatant feelings can’t be a coincidence. For me, it almost seems like Ichigo is dense, not because he’s not meant to see Orihime’s feelings, but because it makes it harder for him to identify his own feelings for a certain person (personally I thought and still think that it’s supposed to be Rukia). It delays endgames, and allows for more satisfying development. However, this could just be my optimism speaking, but I don't think Kubo is stupid. But that time frame for TYBW was ridiculous and I truly believe it was a factor in their final decisions. But I might be blinded by my optimism. Well anyway, this was another piece of analysis. Just want to call out some hypocrites. I'm right now putting on the table that Rukia arguably has just as much feelings for Ichigo. So the argument that Orihime is "obligated" to Ichigo's love is too vague. It's a horrible argument, but I'm always open to discussion. Respectfully of course. But then again this is social media so...

My next analysis is probably going to be on this gorgeous scene. I'm just going to explain its significance and what makes it an irrefutable Ichigo and Rukia moment. Please look forward to that! Thank you to everyone that read this far. Have a wonderful day!

Also no hate on Renji and Orihime. I know Renji thought he had good intentions, but if he's so special then he should have been able to fix it before 40 years of no interactions. And Orihime is a sweetie, but her unrealistic look on life is just too polar to my look on life. I'm a realist. I can't get behind that especially when she basically gets everything handed to her without much consequence. Reality would have hit normal women in the face if they were in Orihime's position. To me that's not a good message to teach to anyone.

Anyway thanks for reading! Love y’all!

[crispyjenkins]

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

  “Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

-

  By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

  The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

  And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

  “Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

  Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

  The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

  “Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

  Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

  Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

  And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

-

  Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes. 

  The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

  Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

  “I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

  “And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

  Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

  Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

  “He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

  “He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

  Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

  Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

  Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

  He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

  “I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

  “Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

  “Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

  “Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

  Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

-

  “Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

  “Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

  The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

  “I did.”

  “I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

  Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

  Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

  Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice. 

-

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir —�� an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity  laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. 

[booksandwords]

Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann

Read time: 2 Days Rating: 5/5

The quote: "I use Tumblr, which is probably the best support system for me right now. I mean, it's a super garbage fire of discourse sometimes, but really, we all just hyper-love everyone and everything and want our ships to sail, regardless of canon or what anyone else thinks. And there'll be posts with literally thousands of notes that'll make the rounds saying things like, 'If you're Black and ace, you're valid and I love you.,' which is really nice to read when you're not expecting it. You know the saying, 'love is love,' right? I've heard it thousands of times, but I've learned it, internalized it, because of the blogs I follow on Tumblr." — Alice

I'm on an aspec binge apparently. Two of my three of most recent books feature asexuality prominently, as does my next one. Anywho this one has been on my tbr for far too long, that is the prompt it's filling on my Dymocks Reading Challenge List. Quick review because I am so backlogged on reviews right now. To start with it is worth reading, especially for ace people.

I enjoyed Let's Talk About Love is uses friendship well, in that way that friendship is so, so messy. There is perfect ignorance of asexuality and the truth of it. Or at least the truth of Alice's experience. Alice biromantic (as with Upside Down that dual label is unusual) and maybe most importantly Alice is African American. Alice is fun and funny. Her personality is perfect for this kind of story. She will make you laugh and you will feel her pain. Love interest Takumi is a lot for the reader to deal with, because we see him through Alice's eyes. We never see him objectively. That said he's my type anyway nerdy, cute and charming as hell. His reaction to Alice and her truth is while not natural almost understandable given the lack of education on asexuality in the broader community (even among young people), that lack of education is part of the point. One of the things that Claire Kann wants to improve.

If I have any complaints about Let's Talk About Love it's that the ending feels a little bit rushed. It feels kinda like a few more pages would have made for a more comfortable resolution to Alice's relationships with Feenie and Takumi. There is something about Alice's narrative style. It feels like she is talking, not to the reader, to a friend. It's written with lots of brackets adding comments. The story does ultimately leave a lot of questions about Takumi's background and especially his family though in some ways this does fit due to his reluctance to talk about them. The twins, Megumi and Mayumi, are fecking adorable though. I'm not entirely sure who the intended audience is but it does feel like it suits the aces of all ages that came to terms with their sexuality on tumblr. There are quite a few of us, many of us older, many of us learning about our sexuality through the internet because there is little to no local support or queer education in high schools.

I do still have some quotes to add. Beware most of these are from the second half of the book.

"Calm down. What happened?" "I just wanted to wear a cute costume, you know? And everything was great, but Feenie and Ryan left me and boys are awful when they're drunk and I can't even get drunk to drown my disappointed sorrows because Jesus knows it's not safe in there. And I'm just so "I just wanted to wear a cute costume, you know? And everything was great, but Feenie and Ryan left me and boys are awful when they're drunk and I can't even get drunk to drown my disappointed sorrows because Jesus knows it's not safe in there. And I'm just so mad I could spit." — This quote and the scene it comes from are so much to read. They are confronting in a way that is relatable for all women. I quite like it though. (Takumi and Alice, p.119-20)

"Can you sing? Because that sounds like something a siren would say. Warn me before you sing me to my death so your conscience can be clear." — I think that line may almost be on par with a fallen angel line for pick up lines. Though at least this is somewhat cerebral. (Takumi, p.223)

"Before, you said 'bisexual minus the sexual' but didn't add in a substitute. If you don't care about sex, what do care about?" — I like Alice's description of her sexuality. It is so simple but so accessible for those who aren't fluent in the ace world but at least know the queer basics. (Takumi, p.236)

"Sex is too much a part of everything, and I don't think it's reasonable to tell my partner I don't ever want to sleep with them and expect them to stick around. I'm not saying they wouldn't agree. I personally am not okay with asking. And I'm not saying I wouldn't want to try again someday, but I don't want them to have the expectation that I will. It has to be my choice and a lot of people don't respect that." — Alice

[tardytothepardy]

hm

Ok, so I've just finished reading through Gakuen Alice, the whole finale and everything, and I kinda feel like it was either rushed, or missing something. There were just weird elements to it, and stuff that doesn't make sense to me.

(massive spoilers for a lot of the series below, just an fyi)

So, in the finale, Mikan's been taken away from Alice Academy, and has been away from it for a couple years. She has no memory of anything from that time, though she sometimes still gets hit by intense emotions unexpectedly, most likely parts of her memory trying to get through. She's a high school student, she's 16 years old, and apparently there's recently been an incident of kidnappings in the area that seem to specifically target girls around her age.

So when she goes down to the beach with her two friends, simply called Sa-chan and Shi-chan, and a bunch of shit starts going down, there's reason to panic, right? Ahh, there's a bunch of men here that I don't know that are going to kidnap me!!! But then, another group of men that she doesn't know show up and beat them up! Whoa! Then, randomly, for some reason, one of her friends just smooshes up her face and suddenly she's an entirely different person. But that's not all. All these new strange men seem to know her, and they have crazy powers! There's one guy who just made all the kidnappers pass out with a wave of his hand! Another guy seemed to just make fire spring out of nowhere! What the fuck??

I just,, the way that Narumi and Tsubasa and Natsume and Tonouchi and fuckin,,, everyone else just seems to think it's so funny and wacky that Mikan, who does not remember any of them, is freaking out and thinking they are going to kidnap her, it bothers me. Like, imagine just going through your day, then a bunch of weird men who act like they know you surround you completely, then just laugh at you when you freak out. What the hell.

I just generally have gripes about how the characters act, basically. It's just fucking weird to me, idk. Could it be due to the fact that I read all of this within the span of maybe three days? Sure. But still.

Starting off, I just have to talk about how Natsume,,, acted? behaved? responded? something,, to Mikan. He fecking grabbed her wrist (and uh, again, she hasn't remembered who any of these people are yet) and just fuggin stares at her. Sure, that does trigger something in Mikan's memory, and she's starting to vaguely re-remember stuff, but then he just??? grabs her chest????? What????? WHy?? Would??? you??? do?? that????? I just,,, I know that he did do shit like that earlier in the series, constantly making comments about how flat her chest was (YOUR HONOR SHE'S FECKING TEN YEARS OLD WHAT'S YOUR DEFENSE) and looking down her shirt or whatever, but,, from around the first Christmas party onwards, he never pulled any of that shit. He never made comments about any of that weird shit, none of that. I (foolishly, apparently) thought that he had,, I dunno,, kinda moved on from that whole,,,, assault,,, thing,,, but no. Guess not.

And like, at this point, idk how old he would be, but probably around 17 ish years old. Wh-- why?? What,, what-- WHY DID HE DO THAT??? WHY DID HE THINK THAT WAS A CORRECT THING TO DO??? It was bad enough when they were younger and actually knew each other, it's fucking gross and uncomfortable now that they're both older and SHE DOESN'T FUCKING REMEMBER WHO THE FUCK HE IS. To her, he's just some random creep who groped her? Ah, teenage romance, what a dream~~

After that.... incident, a few other things happen, but he just fucking grabs her (she still hasn't fully realized what is going on or who any of these random men are) and fukkin yells at her for leaving the school before he woke up, all those years ago. Dude, buddy, pal, friendo, she didn't have any control over any of that shit. She wasn't the reason that Nodacchi brought him back a week or so after Mikan left, she didn't know any of that!! She was waiting that whole time, but she didn't have any control over when Nodacchi would bring back Natsume, I just,,, why. It annoys me immensely.

(i'm rereading through the whole interaction again and uh,, yeah that one panel where he's holding her and just starts talking about shit that she doesn't remember or understand and then fuggin says "You are mine"??? UH,, DUDE?? NO. STOP. Props to Mikan for not losing her shit bc I definitely would. I'd be having a panic attack or something, this is an intensely stressful situation and I just,,, The sighs that I am sighing are so intense. Disappointment is accompanying every exhale, I stg.)

It is only after Mikan absorbs that fragment of her first Alice stone that she even starts to remember stuff and I just,, I do not like it.

Moving on from that, Ruka. What's up with him. What's he been doing this whole time. Idk. He just feels weird to me. Maybe it's the fact that everyone's all grown up and all seem to be experiencing a particularly nasty case of same-face-syndrome, but he just seems so,,, bland? Empty? There's something off about it, I don't get it. I mean, at least Ruka doesn't try to do something to Mikan when she hasn't remembered who tf he is, so he has that going for him.

At least he has a purpose beyond just standing there: it's to give Mikan those earbuds that Hotaru made, and they allow for Mikan to hear Hotaru's voice which spurs her to become determined to find her. (Also apparently whenever this is all taking place, that is actually Mikan's birthday. Some point in the summer, I think? I can't say for sure without checking the wiki.) (ok so I looked at the wiki and it says her birthday is May 17th, so, yeah.)

But yeah I just,, after Mikan remembers everything and agrees that she wants to find Hotaru, the entire Class B from when Mikan was in the Alice Academy is suddenly transported there, and among the things that I saw, I saw that Nobara and Persona,,, had a kid??? What??? I'm confused. Never mind the fact that he's probably like twice her age, easily, but like,,, where tf did that come from? I don't get why that happened. It's weird. Why? Why was that a thing? I'm confused.

I'm not sure that I'm just underwhelmed, I think I'm also kinda disappointed, honestly. The series had been picking up so much steam, there were so many things going on, feelings were developing and growing, and I was completely caught up in it. But after the scene where Hotaru and Subaru sacrifice themselves so that Mikan can be with Natsume in the future I just,, wasn't really feeling it? I mean, I was crying all the way through to when Mikan was being taken out of Alice Academy, that was sad and stuff, but then the last few chapters just felt so rushed. So many things (but it also felt like too few things) were just piled on top of each other, one thing after another, I didn't feel anything. I was expecting to be elated once Mikan and Natsume were reunited, after all, that was the whole reason why Hotaru sacrificed herself. I fuckin watched him die, and I was screaming and rocking around in my chair and hyperventilating, I was caught up in all of that. But when Mikan did remember everything and stuff, I was fine. "Oh, cool. That's nice." I don't even know why, honestly.

I think, really, that (and this sounds questionable) I preferred everyone as kids. Because up to this point, they've all been kids. The way that they act are the ways that kids act (more or less, no kid should be through a fraction of what these kids were through), and I became familiar with them. But now everyone's grown up, they're almost adults, but since this is the finale, there isn't time to show how people have changed, and so they just feel one-dimensional. Like, I think one of the main reasons why Natsume's actions threw me off so much was that, like I said, it seemed like he had dropped that behavior (of um, groping, assaulting, harassment, stuff like that) kinda early on in the story. From at least the first Christmas party and onward, he never made weird comments, he just didn't do weird shit, and that's why it's so weird that that's what he decided to do. "Hey, how I can jog the memory of the girl that I fell in love with all those years ago? Well, I suppose I can grab her chest and comment on how it's bigger. That seems like a solid plan." Dude, what? No.

This whole encounter, of finding Mikan, was a thing that was thought about, almost certainly planned, for who knows how long, but it just kinda feels like they (the entire group) had like, a week, to come up with a plan to find Mikan, try to get her memories back, and then ???? something???

It's weird, I'm tired, and kinda disappointed. Which is really sad, because I really liked the story up until the finale. I almost feel like there's something else, to the story. That chapter 180 isn't the end, but that's as far as I could read it, so that's all I could get from it.

[theoriginalladya]

Kiss prompt 22 for Caleb and Kaidan?

from this prompt list

On AO3 here

Nonny, thank you so much for this!  I’ve been looking for a way to work a situation like this into their relationship! :D

~~~

Late nights at Old Neddy’s have always been commonplace over the years so far as Caleb Shepard recalls.  With his return to Shannon after the war, they are still a thing – understandable – to the point that for the duration of his first week home in fifteen years, last call is pushed back an additional hour each night. It’s been far too long, and there are plenty of people who remember him as well as those who simply want to meet the ‘local boy who saved the galaxy.’  In the end, even he admits he needs to see them as much as they need to see him, though it does seem forever before 0230 arrives.  For Coats and Kaidan it is a bit easier to make excuses and break away at a more reasonable hour.  Though Caleb would prefer to follow – he is still in recovery mode, after all – he doesn’t. But the moment time is called, and while Moira chases the last of the patrons out, Caleb makes his escape rather than remaining to help clean up.  The small, knowing smirk followed by the quick wink Moira sends his direction assures him she is aware of his tricks.  Then again, she does not call him back.

After three nights of this, he is nearing his limit. He stumbles up the stairs, not so much because of the excess of drink as the near constant state of exhaustion. He tries to be quiet, passing the closed door to his old room where Coats now sleeps, and continues on to the small kitchenette.  As tired as he is, he needs to wind down, and he has a mind to set the kettle to heating for a cup of tea.  At least he does, until he finds it warm.  

“Hey there.”

Sighing softly, Caleb turns towards Kaidan who stands just outside in the hall, sauntering over and leaning in to kiss him. Kaidan meets him willingly, eagerly even, and as the kiss breaks, he can’t help but smile.  “I’ve half a mind to tell Moira to set last call back to normal time starting tomorrow night,” he murmurs grumpily.

Kaidan chuckles, that low, deep, rumbling laugh that’s sexy as sin and leaves Caleb’s insides melting.  The biotic hands over a mostly-filled mug, the gentle scent of the tea rising between them briefly.  “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it would be quite this bad, though I suppose I should have realized.  It’s been a long time since they’ve seen you.”

Caleb snorts, taking a cautious sip of the hot drink.  The temperature is just right and he downs about a third of it in one gulp.  “Aye, half my life, practically,” he agrees.  He extends his free hand, tracing the line of Kaidan’s jaw from his temple to his chin as he adds, “Still, I want time with you, too.”  Setting the tea onto the counter just inside the doorway, he tugs the man closer, wrapping his arms around him.  “C’mere, mo ghrá.”

Kaidan chuckles again as their lips meet, and Caleb swallows the sound.  Groaning softly, he takes his time savoring the contact and reveling in the fact the war is over and the demands on his time are, theoretically, fewer and they actually have time to explore this side of their relationship more without pressure.  

Kaidan nips gently along Caleb’s lower lip; Caleb’s eyes close as a faint prickle of desire awakens deep inside.  Dammit, this, this is who he wants to spend that time with, who has earned that time from him.  The war was fought so that moments like this could exist, could be savored! But even after the Reapers were gone, weeks and months of medical treatment and therapy for him, reconstruction and recovery efforts for Kaidan kept them apart.  Is it too much to ask just for a little bit of time …?

Caleb’s bad hip protests beneath him, and rather than risking a fall, he carefully moves inside the kitchen area to use the counter as support. Kaidan follows eagerly, never breaking contact.  Clearly, he, too, has waited for these moments, if his enthusiasm means anything. Resting his arms around Kaidan’s shoulders, Caleb draws him in as close as possible, meeting and matching every nip and touch.  Eventually, they do pull apart, both fighting for breath.  Caleb doesn’t release him, though, and continues to nuzzle along Kaidan’s jaw and neck.

As he tips his head to the side to give Caleb greater access, Kaidan murmurs around another soft chuckle, “Impatient, are we Shepard?”

“Níl aon smaoineamh agat, mo ghrá.”**

Kaidan groans softly when Caleb finds the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  “Didn’t quite catch that …”

Grinning, Caleb pulls back.  “I said, …”

He’s cut off suddenly as bright light fills his eyes when he can’t shut them quickly enough and Coats says in an amused voice, “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Shannon?”

Caleb stiffens slightly, but he manages a half-strangled laugh.  “Feck off, English, or go find your own.”  His arms tighten around Kaidan who is laughing, too.  

Coats wanders over to the refrigerator, pulls out a bottle then heads back out of the room with a snort.  “You Irish are a bit too prickly,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Not my type.”

“Bloody Sassenach!”

Coats grunts a laugh before lifting the bottle he carries in salute.  “Blind Mick!” He then disappears back into his room.

Kaidan, unable to stop laughing, pushes back a half step and looks at Caleb.  “What the hell was that all about?”

Caleb’s lips twitch as he releases the man and turns to set the now cold tea in the sink.  On their way out of the room, he turns off the light.  “There’s nothing quite like the ‘love’ between the Irish and the English, mo ghrá,” he replies as they head into their room.

~~~ 

**Níl aon smaoineamh agat = You have no idea  (as per Google Translate)

[aethelar]

If there are meanings to the various plants Graves hacks and coughs out of his lungs, he doesn’t care to know them. He knows enough, obviously, to recognise them as a sign of unrequited love and to know that they are not, by themselves, fatal, but otherwise, ergh. He’s not going to pore over books dissecting the language of flowers to divine the true meaning behind what he spits into his kitchen sink. This one’s red and crumpled in a soggy mess, does that mean his heart’s in pain from his passionate yearning - no, it means the fucking twig it’s attached to scraped his throat and came out bloody, and it’ll be a hell of a lot more than just crumpled by the time he’s finished setting fire to it.

It’s disgusting. Everything about it is disgusting. The stringy stems catching on his teeth, the way he coughs and it comes out lumpy with just-opening buds, the taste of fucking pollen that he can’t scrape off his tongue, it’s disgusting. And! That’s before you even factor in that, apparently, Graves’ feelings are literally choking him he knew the damn things were dangerous who in the seven hells ever thought they were a good idea. Being slowly throttled by your emotions wasn’t romantic in the great oil paintings and love stories of the past and it isn’t romantic now. It’s a pain. A disgusting, foul-tasting, inconvenient - a fucking foot long branch, are you serious, all thin and delicate and dotted with tiny white flowers but that doesn’t change the fact that Graves had to deepthroat a fucking branch and then somehow hide the evidence once he hacked coughed and choked the damn thing out.

So no. He is not enjoying Newt Scamander’s extended stay at MACUSA to help sort out the beast laws. Fuck off.

“Oh, Mr Graves!” Newt says, with his stupid floofy hair and his stupid lopsided smile. “I made you coffee.”

“It’s just Graves,” Graves grumbles for the eighth time, dropping his coat over the back of his chair with a barely-hidden sigh of relief. It’s a bitching coat, but it’s also not December anymore, and as he rolls up his sleeves and debates undoing another button at his collar he thinks, ruefully, that it might be time to move into more seasonally appropriate jackets.

No, he decides. Some berk impersonated him all through winter. He didn’t get the chance to wear his bitching coat when the weather was cold, so he’ll wear it now to make up for it. He looks good in black and he’s willing to suffer for fashion, it’ll be fine.

The coffee, when he takes it, is a perfect temperature. It always is. Given that Graves is forty minutes late today (fucking tree in his fucking lungs), this is something of a surprise, and he can’t help the quizzical eyebrow he raises at Newt.

“Magic,” Newt says, fluttering his fingers like an idiot and capping it off with a quirked grin. A stupid quirked grin. With the stupid dimples that come with it. And - the man has freckles, the fuck is Graves meant to do.

“Ta,” he says, slightly strangled, and downs the coffee in one. If he has to chew to swallow the fecking bouquet that appeared in his mouth in reaction to Newt’s everything, that’s no business of anyone else’s, and he refuses to let anything show on his face that might suggest the coffee was less than perfect. Newt’s got a lot better at making coffee in the past few months. It hasn’t tried to climb out the mug in weeks, Graves doesn’t want to discourage this sort of progress.

Nor, later, does he want to discourage the way Newt leans forward, speaking too fast and caring too much as he lays out the things they’ve achieved and the plans he wants to put in action, or the way Newt flicks his gaze back to Graves for support then launches into a passionate response to some complete moron’s doubting skepticism.

He does that a lot. Look to Graves for support. Grindelwald left his mark, and though his aurors know it wasn’t him, the easy trust they had in him is... not gone. If it was gone, then so would Graves be, it would hurt too much to stay. But it’s not so easy anymore for them to remember that Graves has their backs and will keep them safe.

Or maybe the easy trust in his intentions is still there, but the glaring evidence that he couldn’t keep himself safe makes it irrelevent. Either way.

Newt, though, Newt never had a relationship with him for Grindelwald to twist and turn sour, and Newt never falters in surprise when the new Graves snaps and hurts and bites down the things he wants to say and struggles to hold onto the person he used to be and - not that Graves does, not all the time, he’s fine, honestly genuinely he’s fine, he’s just. Finer. When Newt is around and doesn’t expect anything from him that he doesn’t remember how to give.

What Newt expects is for Graves to believe in what he’s trying to do. What Newt expects is for Graves to point out the impracticalities and the legal obstacles and work with him to help him through them. What Newt expects is for Graves to down whatever foul concoction Newt is passing off as coffee and tilt his head and listen when Newt speaks too fast and admit that maybe, maybe Newt doesn’t care too much, maybe the system was wrong and Graves was wrong and Graves could stand to care a little more.

Newt only expects it because that’s what Graves does. It’s different.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, and goes to vomit out a fucking florist in the mens’ room.

“I thought you dipshits were meant to be in my lungs,” he complains, wincing as the bile burns his throat. He’s on his knees, one hand braced against the wall, and even when he stops retching he takes a moment before he tries to stand. He gets as far as an unsteady crouch before light-headedness threatens to overbalance him and he has to hold onto the cistern to stay upright.

“Breathe,” he growls, frustration and pain in his voice as he fights the urge to grip his chest. It feels tight, like heartburn, like thorns growing around his ribs, and it’s a struggle to get enough oxygen around the forest growing inside him. “Fucking - breathe, moron.”

“Graves?” a voice asks through the door. It’s Newt. Of course it’s Newt. None of Graves’ aurors would track him down if they were worried about him. It’s not like they did before, why break a habit.

“Give me a sec,” he says, and tries to keep his footsteps even as he staggers to the sink and washes his hands. In the mirror, there’s blood smeared at the corner of his mouth, and he gets rid of it with an angry swipe of his wrist. “I’m fine. Sorry. Bad timing.”

“No, it’s ok,” Newt says, still waiting outside the door. “You don’t need to apologise.” He pauses, then, hesitantly, “It’s ok if you’re not fine too, you know.”

Graves stops. Hands on the edge of the sink, shoulders hunched, head hanging low. The tap is still running. He can feel a tickle at the back of his throat but he’s exhausted and his ribs hurt and he closes his eyes and ignores it. “I know,” he says, coming out thickly around the flower on his tongue.

In the most romantic of the stories, the hero holds out, refusing to admit his feelings until he’s all but dying from the disease. The flowers aren’t fatal by themselves, but lungs aren’t meant to hold a garden. Then he swoons, or faints, or collapses dramatically in his true loves’ arms; they realise the truth and music swells in the background, and with tears in their eyes as they understand that only their love can save the hero, they kiss him.

Curtain falls. Lights dim. Flowers bloom. End story.

What, Graves would like to know, is romantic about telling someone their choices are to love you or see you die. It hardly seems fair. More like a thinly veiled threat, and he will not make a murderer out of Newt.

He opens his mouth and drops the flower - single, large, white - onto his palm, then crumples it in his fist and throws it in the bin. “I know,” he says again, once his mouth is empty and he can talk. It comes out tireder than he means it to and he shakes himself, squaring his shoulders before he opens the door.

Newt frowns at him in poorly-hidden concern, but doesn’t press it. “They called a break,” he says instead. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Yeah,” Graves says, allowing himself a faint, resigned smile. “I’ll make you a tea.”

And. That’s ok. It’ll have to be ok. The flowers are resistant to any spells or potions he tries to control them with so he works on his feelings instead, if they’re the source of the problem. He’s not sure how effective it is, but if he tells himself that he doesn’t love Newt, then maybe he won’t. Or - if he tells himself that if he loved Newt, then surely he’d respect the fact that Newt apparently doesn’t love him in return, and therefore as a sign of Graves’ love he should stop loving Newt -

He tells himself a lot of things. The plant life falls more to flowers and less to trees, which is a bonus, but it doesn’t stop coming. Graves is short of breath more days than not, and he’s losing weight from both the lack of appetite and the amount of time he spends throwing up. That’s ok too. He rearranges his schedule to put himself on less field duty and give himself more paperwork, and if that gives himself more time working in the office with Newt, then that’s just another bonus in life.

The fact that he has to give up his coat is not, but even with cooling charms it’s too heavy and it leaves him flushed and dizzy and lightheaded from the heat. Newt’s coffee progresses from mostly-liquid to mostly-drinkable and Graves likes to think he’s managed the correct balance of tannin and sugar in Newt’s tea, and life goes on. Quiet days, working on the beast laws in companionable silence, sitting to the side in meetings so Newt can take centre stage and shine. Tilting his head with a fond smile and watching the way he waves his hands as he talks too fast and cares too much about the latest creatures in his case. His freckles. The way his excited grins gives him dimples. The increasing worry in the way he frets over Graves and makes sure Graves knows he’s there and just waiting to be allowed to help.

Graves doesn’t allow him. Hanahaki is insideous. Love me or kill me is a horrible thing to say to someone. Maybe if the damn flowers weren’t there he’d’ve done something, but. The damn flowers are there. They come thicker, and faster; he wakes up wheezing in the night and he holds the bannister when he goes up stairs, he stops bothering to eat because everything tastes of pollen and he’s pretty sure Newt’s hiding nutrient potions in his coffee, he’s nearly there with the beast laws and he drags himself through because his fucking feelings are going to kill him but at least he can tie off his loose ends before he goes -

“Graves,” Newt says, leaning towards him with panic in his eyes. His voice echoes. Graves’ chest burns, thorns and trees and clamping vines; he’s coughing but he can’t - “Graves. Graves,” and fuckdamnit, Graves clamps his mouth shut and refuses to let this be a fucking romance because it’s not romantic to spit weeds in your kitchen sink and wipe the blood off your chin it’s disgusting -

He hacks, coughs, chokes; he heaves and dry heaves; dizzying white spots overtake his vision and his lungs give in; the last thing he sees is Newt.

He wakes up.

He wakes up, and his chest feels... unfamiliar. It’s been full of plants for so long, he’s forgotten what it’s like to breathe. He pushes himself up, achingly, slow, holy fuck had he really lost that much muscle that even this is a fucking trial, but there’s an exhausted resignation behind his anger.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Newt asks from the uncomfortable metal chair next to Graves’ uncomfortable metal hospital bed. “You nearly died.”

He looks pale. Drawn. Lack of sleep, Graves identifies, though the worry’s been dragging on him for a while.

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated,” he says, stiffly. 

“Obligated?” Newt repeats. “To what, help you? I offered enough times, I thought it was obvious I wanted to. Besides,” and here he starts to get heated, running his hands through his hair in agitation, “You were dying. How did you let it get so bad? Why didn’t you - this has been going on for months, I thought you just didn’t want me to help you. I didn’t realise you were happy doing nothing!”

“Who the fuck else was meant to help? I can’t control it.”

“Who - what? Wait.” He squints. “Graves,” he says slowly. “What did you think was happening?”

Graves hunches his shoulders. The urge to say nothing and try and deflect is ridiculously strong, but he’s not actually five anymore, so. He doesn’t. “I had a damn garden in my ribcage,” he says. “Picking flowers out my teeth like the heroine of a trashy novel.” He fought it as long as he could, and then he couldn’t fight it and Newt was there. Newt saw. And when Graves woke up, Newt was still there, and the flowers weren’t. He hunches his shoulders and hates the tiny part of him that’s glad Newt was a decent human being and didn’t let him die, because there’s nothing romantic in dying to love. It’s shit. Love me or kill me is shit. The whole thing is shit. He didn’t mean to drag Newt into it.

“Hanahaki,” Newt identifies, and fucker, he looks surprised. “You thought it was hanahaki. Graves. It wasn’t hanahaki.”

“I think as the one living through the fecking thing -”

“Graves,” Newt repeats, more insistently. “It was an infection of a parasitic plant you inhaled as a spore that was growing in the lining of your lungs. It wasn’t hanahaki.” And, when Graves just glowers at him dubiously, “Hanahaki is unrequited love. If it was hanahaki...” he hesitates, then braces himself and continues, overly casual and awkward with it. “If it was hanakahi, it would’ve stopped. Um. Months ago. So it wasn’t and you don’t have to worry and if it ever happens again please go to a doctor instead of hiding it?”

Go to a doctor, what’s a doctor meant to do? There’s no spell for a broken - wait. What.

The only way to stop hanahaki is for the other person to love you back.

What.

“Months ago?” Graves croaks out. Newt nods, his awkwardness now highlighted with a blush across his freckled cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Months. You. Months?”

“I made you coffee,” Newt points out, as though that was supposed to be a defence for the fact that, apparently, Graves’ love hasn’t been unrequited for damn months -

“Do you want to be requited,” he blurts out, because why not, why ever the fuck - this is exactly why he never confessed his feelings, fuck it, do you want to be requited what in the seven hells is he saying. “I mean, if, uh, if you wanted to, um, we could. If. You want?”

Newt ducks his head. Probably to hide his laughter. Why. Why does Graves do these things to himself.

“Yeah,” Newt says, too softly for someone bemoaning the idiot that’s fallen in love them. He looks up through the ridiculous floof his his hair and he’s still blushing, but he’s also smiling, tentative and hopeful and very much not being pressured into anything by a stupid romantic disease. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Oh,” Graves manages around the entirely different sort of lightness in his chest. “That’s. Good.”

It’s also an insane kind of whiplash to deal with, and one that might take a while to sink in. He’s learnt both that Newt loves him and that his lungs, apparently, have been infested with spores for the past god knows how long. If Grindelwald did this there will be hell.

He just - spores? Fucking. Disgusting. Spores were meant to produce mushrooms, weren’t they, which might be no less horrifying in theory but at least they’d’ve been easier to bring up than branches.

God, imagine if it were cactuses.

Actually no. Don’t imagine that. What the fuck. Back to Newt loving him, that’s a much better thing to focus on, it’s a delightful thing, it’s, holy shit. It’s.

“You love me,” he says, with that sort of wondering disbelief that comes when something sounds too good to be true. “You’re not just saying it because flowers?”

“You drank the coffee I made you,” Newt says instead of answering. “No one ever drinks the coffee I make them. I can’t make coffee. I can’t believe you drank it.” And, when Graves just looks confused (whiplash, plus he nearly died) he just smiles again and says, “Yes, Graves. I love you and I’m not just saying it because flowers.”

“Oh.” That’s. That’s good. That’s. Yeah. “I think I love you too.”

(thank fuck it wasn’t cactuses)

[lady-lilly-gray]

Thots on Gabriel Agreste

Is this the correct beginning ???

Too many questions already

Awe look at Adrien taking care of his stepmom dad's assistant

WAIT are Marc and Nath going to get their miraculous this episode ???

Ugh I missed my gay boys so much

The analogy that Adrien is a damsel in distress is absolutely iconic

No but Adrien in a dress

SABRINA

Alice queen [re: I meant Zoe I don’t know why I wrote Alice]

Chloe what !!!! Why does she care

They really said "we're gonna force the adrichloe content again so y'all stop shipping her with Sabrina", huh

WHAT just happened

Whoever did the English subs needs to check their pronouns (but like as a French speaker that's a VIBE like hell if I know who this is referring to, just match the pronoun to the gender of the noun forget the subject)

Ngl I kinda love the Zoe pretending to be as bad as Chloe trope

Marino 2: electric boogaloo

She really got away with that huh

Feck

Wtf is this party Gabe

Oh Chloe you genius

Felix absolutely just gave Gabe the fake how does he not even suspect that

Ok ok ok that makes more sense

OH I hate it

But also genius

Oof being left alone with your ex

They're BOTH idiots it's animaestro all over again

Ok so does Gabe have Amelie's ???

Ok I hate Felix but he's also the only one with brain cells he literally saw the paon broach and went "oh" even though PLAGG literally ignored it when he broke into the safe

They really said 'Felix is a sentimonster AND FELIX KNOWS' and I think that’s really sexy of them

Gabe you literally just revealed yourself because he didn't tell you where he saw the broach

Ok ok ok I KNOW I know that "il ne m'arrive pas à la cheville" being translated as "he doesn't come close to my ankle" is just an idiomatic issue, but it has THOROUGHLY undone me [it means “he doesn’t measure up to me” if you were curious]

FELIX

genius

He cut the pants as a marker

This evil genius what a funky little dude I love him

But why are his cuff links so sharp ??

This got so chaotic so quickly

DOES KAGAMI KNOW

CHAT NOIR TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE !!

Ugh I wish this was a two-parter there was so much potential that they passed up !!!

[atmilliways]

Toki and Pickles, 2, 6, or 9? Any or none, whichever speaks to you. :)

[2+ characters and a number meme]

2, Kissing. 6, Comforting one another. 9, In bed/non-sexually sleeping together.

YOU GOT IT, ALL THREE. 1277 words, lol. Implied Charles/Pickles, sad because it’s set between Black Fire Upon Us and Renovationklok, Pickles is having a bad night and Toki just happens to walk in on it and try to comfort him, and some smooching happens. 

You Know What Admitting Sadness Means

.

Both of these men are competing starfish. They’ve known this for years, since the early days of getting stuck with each other as hotel roommates when on tours, before they had enough money for the big fancy bus with separate rooms, or even hotel rooms that had two double beds instead of just one. Back in those days, Toki’s hair had still been short and he’d always, always slept with a shirt on, even in fucking Florida in the summer. During the other three seasons Pickles, who tended to drink until he felt warm, strip down to his tighty whities, and half-wake up at some point in the night freezing his nuts off, had always appreciated the guy’s ability to throw body heat like a goddamned furnace. 

He had actually told him that once, and Toki had replied cheerfully that yes, he knew that, because his soul was already destined to roast over the spitfires of hell for an eternity of torment and pain for not following the rules laid down by a god that did not forget and did not forgive. Pickles had needed to take a few extra illicit substances that night just to get to sleep and forget the hauntingly empty look in his eyes while he’d said it.

These days, Toki’s hair is long and he doesn’t give two shits who sees his scars anymore. Pickles will automatically wake at the sound of retching out of decades of ingrained habit, unless he’s seriously passed out, but otherwise they’re both deep sleepers and don’t much care who flops on who in the night (or day, whenever, time is fake). And they don’t have to share a bed, but sometimes they do because Toki still gets nightmares. 

But since Charles died, things have been different. Everyone is withdrawn, shaken . . . and so freaked out by the Revengencer attack that they’ve literally strapped rockets to the bottom of their house and launched it into the sky for security purposes. Toki keeps his nightmares to himself because there’s already enough shit going around, he doesn’t want to add to it. 

Except, one night he can’t sleep. The pickled herring he ate earlier isn’t sitting right in his stomach and makes the thought of drinking unappealing. . . . Maybe Pickles will have something he can smoke or snort that will do the trick. He puts on his boots (Mordhaus is a constant construction zone these days, he’s learned not to run around barefoot the hard way) and clomps down the hallway in his pajama pants. 

“Pickle?” Toki stops himself just short of knocking, because knocking politely isn’t particularly metal. Instead, he nudges at it with the toe of one boot. The door creaks open a bit, so he pushes it farther and steps in. 

The room is a mess. Not that it’s spotlessly clean even at the best of times, but with all the repairs their servants are stretched pretty thin and it doesn’t look like anyone’s come to collect the recyclables in a while. It reeks of spilled beer and spirits, stale smoke, and unwashed sheets—but all that is metal, so it’s probably fine. 

What isn’t fine is Pickles, who’s clutching his pillow to his chest instead of laying on it and thrashing sluggishly under just a thin blanket, obviously trapped in a nightmare of his own. Before he can decide what to do Toki steps on a can, and the crunch of aluminum sends Pickles shooting bolt upright with a strangled yell. 

“Sorries!” Toki yelps automatically, holding up both hands. “Sorries, Pickle, ams just Toki!”

Pickles stares at him, wide-eyed and panting, then blinks hard until some of the wild, sleep-glazed look fades from his eyes. “Toki?” he asks hoarsely, and coughs. 

“Sorries, I couldn’t sleeps and I thoughts maybe Pickle will had somesthing whats maybe helps, ands the door—”

“Toki,” Pickles interrupts. To Toki’s surprise, it looks like his eyes are already red-rimmed, not in (just) a super fucked up way but like he’s been crying. His eyes are even starting to well over. Pickles takes a deep breath, and the rest comes tumbling out in a thin, scratchy wail: “Toki, I couldn’t save ‘im an’ he died an’ he, I couldn’t—H-he’s just dead, he’s dead an’ it’s all my fault!”

Fuck not caring about each other by band agreement. Toki is at his side in a second and pulls the smaller man into a tight hug, a cold lump of metal pressed between their bare chests as though Pickles is wearing some sort of necklace with a pendant on it. Tears form in his own eyes because he knows exactly what Pickles means. Toki hasn't dreamed about Charles, but they’re all feeling the guilt these days. For not appreciating him enough when he was still alive. For not getting there in time to save him. Hell, even if Toki had gotten there earlier he still would’ve been too loaded to be of any use, Nathan would’ve had to do it all alone. . . .

“Ams not your faults, Pickle.” Toki tries to reassure, but at the same time this feels like what he’s witnessing might go deeper than simple guilt. Pickles is shaking, pressing streaming eyes against Toki’s shoulder and bawling into his chest. This is something far more raw and brutal, devoid of any of the trappings of pretending not to care. Right now Pickles clearly doesn’t give a shit about one anyone thinks. 

“He’s gone, he’s goooooooooone!”

“Theres there,” Toki mumbles, rubbing his back awkwardly—a tiny gesture in the face of a giant tsunami of grief. 

He holds him until the sobs die down, until Pickles moves to unexpectedly return the embrace. 

“Feck. Toki, I’m . . . I’m real fecked up ri’now, c’you jest—”

“I won’t tell no ones,” Toki assures him quickly. 

At the same time as Pickles says, “—kiss me?” The drummer pulls back just enough so they can make eye contact. “Please, jest, close yer eyes and lemme pretend it’s him, jest one last time. . . .”

“Whats,” Toki starts to ask. He’s interrupted by lips crashing into his, facial hair scratching and tickling around his mouth. 

Pickles kisses him with longing and passion and urgent desperation the likes of which Toki has never experienced before, not even close. The swamping wave tumbles him head over heels, making it difficult to tell up from down, waking him up in ways he hadn’t even realized he’d been tired; the kiss tastes like booze and snot and sleep-breath and dispair. And maybe . . . maybe it is their manager Pickles wants to be kissing, for whatever reason, but Charles isn’t here. God, fuck, Charles isn’t here. It’s just Toki, and Toki wants to comfort his friend (and maybe even be comforted in return, even if his own feelings don’t run quite as deep). 

They spend the rest of the night together in Pickles’ bed. Sometimes Pickles dozes off, then wakes crying again. Sometimes they end up making out like their lives depend on it, and sometimes it’s slow and soft and so tender that Toki’s heart aches. But eventually Pickles drifts off and stays there, breathing slow and even against the crook of Toki’s neck; he’s finally gone past the dreams to the other side and is actually getting some rest. 

Toki has so many thoughts about everything that’s just happened that he doesn’t expect to fall asleep himself, but eventually he does. 

Both of these men are starfish, but tonight it’s less competition and more collaboration. Pickles lays sprawled on top and Toki stretches out beneath him, one arm looped protectively around his friend. Between the two of them, they manage to take up the entire bed. 

Even the empty side.

[lovesdarkness]

Hard Mode

Summary -  Phoenix just wanted to relax and play a video game on her day off...but a certain sexy God of Thunder had other plans 

Pairing - Thor x OC

Warnings -  Smut, NSFW, oral sex (female receiving)

Word count - 2418

 *

It was an oddly quiet day in the tower, which was strange to Phoenix. Usually there was always some sort of hustle and bustle going about but for some reason today it was quiet. Tony was off taking care of some company business with Pepper while Steve and the rest were away on a mission. Thor was off world taking care of business in some other realm, which one she had no clue. Phoenix looked forward to hearing about his exploits when he finally returned, which she hoped would be soon. He had been gone for a number of months and she was desperately starting to miss him. Her daily workouts certainly weren’t the same. 

Grateful that she had some time off Phoenix decided to take full advantage of the peace and quiet. It was nice to not have Steve barking orders at her, he seemed to forget that she was just on loan from SHIELD and not an actual Avenger. Having just finished a nice long bubble bath (which may or may not have included a glass of Tony’s expensive wine) she walked out into her room, hair still damp, and pulled on a tank top and a pair of underwear. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to unwind and do some gaming, in fact she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d touched her controllers, there had been so many missions and reports and paperwork. The last thing she had played was the new God of War game, did she even remember where she left off?

“Eh, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” She muttered to herself as she propped up some pillows on her bed to lean against and flopped back, legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. Turning on the console Phoenix loaded up the game and fiddled around the area till she remembered where she had left off.

“Ugh that bloody Niflheim world.” she muttered, letting out an annoyed groan as she rolled her eyes. The level was the most annoying she’d ever had to experience, having to run around in a toxic mist fighting monsters and collecting items then trying to find a place to get some fresh air before the mist ate up all her health. Problem was the place was loaded with traps and they always ended up killing her, meaning if she died she had to start the level over from the beginning. 

Phoenix was so engrossed in the game trying to beat this blasted world that she didn’t even notice the clap of thunder that sounded outside signalling the arrival of a certain thunder god. She was deep in battle with a Valkyrie and had almost depleted her health when the blasted thing moved a little too quickly for Phoenix to respond and Kratos fell to the ground dead on screen.

“Oh bloody fecking hell! Feck you, you stupid piece of shite whore!” she cursed at the screen, tossing the controlled onto the bed beside her and reaching up to rub her face. 

“Those Valkyrie are quite difficult.” came an amused tone from behind her, causing Phoenix to jump and let out a gasp of surprise. Whirling around she saw none other than the god of Thunder standing there, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips as he watched her, blue eyes full of mirth.

A huge grin cracked across Phoenix’s face when she saw him standing there and sat up. “Hey you’re back.” she cried as she jumped up, completely ignoring her lack of clothes as she ran over to hug him. He smelled of sweat, and earth, and metal, and lightning and she had no idea how much she had missed it till now as she felt his giant arms encircle her and she melted into his embrace. "I missed you!" She murmured into his broad chest.

“Yes, I have returned.” came Thor’s voice, soft in her ear making electric shivers go up her spine. “And I am sorry for being away for so long. Discord had broken out in the realm of Vanaheim and fixing matters was not an easy task. I will tell you about that later though. It seems you’ve been dealing with some discord of your own.” he said as he pulled away and cast his eyes over to the TV where the world had reset. 

“Yeah, this feckin' area is being a giant pain in my arse.” Phoenix said as the two of them walked over and sat on her bed where she picked up the controller and left the spot where the Valkyrie lived, deciding to try and level up some more before taking her on again. “Are Valkyrie normally this annoying?” she muttered as she resumed her previous position, leaning back against the pillows with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“Verily…” Thor murmured as he watched her, eyeing her up and down. “They are Asgard’s fiercest warriors, one does not go into battle with them lightly. Even in a virtual world.” Her lack of clothing was distracting but appealing to him, especially since it had been months since he had shared the pleasures of the flesh with her. He needed her, bad.

“Well they can suck my dick.” Phoenix muttered in response as she went back to searching for treasures and fighting monsters, just narrowly avoiding getting sliced in half by some giant whirling blades. 

She was once again completely engrossed in her task, flicking the directional buttons around as she controlled the character on the screen, and it was starting to annoy Thor. They had been separated for months, normally when one of them was away for an extended period of time when they returned they immediately were consumed with need and fell into bed to partake in every carnal desire they could think of. So why wasn’t she pawing at him with need now? How was she so consumed with this virtual world when he was sitting right next to her?

Phoenix was completely oblivious to Thor’s pouting as she made her way around all the traps in the area. She was starting to notice a pattern to when they would appear, and was getting giddy at the thought of being able to finally finish this world. She hadn’t even noticed Thor move till suddenly he was kneeling in front of her spreading her legs. “Huh? Wait...what...what are you doing?” she said, eyes going wide and confusion written on her face as he reached up to loop his fingers around the fabric of her panties and a moment later the sound of fabric ripping was heard as he pulled the offending fabric from her body and tossed it aside. 

The look Thor gave her then made her mouth go dry and her pulse quicken as she suddenly realized what was going on. 

“I’m hungry…” he said, his voice a low growl making Phoenix shiver. He smirked at her as she sat there looking at him with wide eyes, her hands shaking as she looked between the controller and him as if trying to decide what she wanted to do more. He could smell her sudden arousal, knowing that the choice wasn’t going to be a hard one.

“Let’s make a game of it.” he continued, his thumbs trailing circles along the soft skin of her thighs as his hands slid up to grasp her by the hips, pulling her down till her ass hung just off the edge of the mattress. “You keep playing your game, and while you’re doing that I’m going to devour this sweet pussy of yours like I’m a man that has been starved for weeks.” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he reached to slide a single finger into her wetness. He curled his finger against that spot he knew drove her mad and stroked her for a brief moment before pulling out again.  Smirking as she let out a soft whimper he reached up to lick her wetness from his finger, letting out a pleased hum.

Leaning in till his face was right in hers, lips barely brushing as his breath teased her he continued. “But here’s the rules. I will use my tongue to bring you the delicious sweetness of release as you play. But if you die, I’m going to stop.” He pulled away slightly as she tried to kiss him, letting out a loud laugh at her whine.

“No faiiiiiir.” she whimpered, looking at him with a pout. She glared at him as he laughed, raising an eyebrow at her. “You think I’ve never had someone go down on me while I try and focus on a game before?” she asked. “I call that playing on Hard Mode. Bring it on.” 

Thor let out a hearty laugh at her determination as she unpaused the game. Taking that as his sign to begin he quickly buried his face between her legs, sliding his tongue up through her slick folds. Gods she tasted amazing. 

Phoenix gasped as she felt the heat of his tongue slip through her most sensitive spot, sending a shiver through her. She shuddered and swallowed, doing her best to focus on the game as she listened to him grunt his approval as his mouth devoured her. 

There were a few times where he’d almost got her. His tongue had pressed against her clit which sent a jolt through her, and she moaned as the character she controlled just barely missed getting squished by a wall that had suddenly sprung out. Biting her lip she leaned back more, panting as her hips started rocking up and down with the movements of his tongue. She looked down when he let out a warning grunt, casting his eyes up to her as his hands gripped her hips and held her down. 

A group of monsters popped up suddenly as she felt his tongue probe at her entrance and she couldn’t help but cry out. “Dammit Thor…” Phoenix gasped, biting her lip as she forced herself to focus on the battle, but it was hard. The things he made her feel were exquisite, but it was hard to enjoy while she was forced to pay close attention to the task at hand. She had only just barely managed to get out of this battle, she had hardly any health left but was lucky that some of the monsters had dropped a number of green health crystals. If she had died and he stopped before she was able to cum it would have been the end of him. She’d have killed him with that damned controller.

The tension forming in her belly as his mouth continued to work it’s magic made it hard for her to concentrate, and the next thing Phoenix knew she was back at the area with the Valkyrie. And it was attacking something fierce, much like how his mouth was fiercely attacking her core. “Oh god dammit...Thor…” she whined, mashing the buttons with her thumbs as he mashed her clit with his tongue, and he chuckled at the frustrated growl she let out. He was enjoying this far too much, the sounds she was letting out and the smell of her aroused him to the point that it took everything he had not to pin her down to the bed and have his way with her. 

Her thighs were starting to tremble and her eyes went out of focus and she couldn’t take it anymore. She paused the game, tossing the controller aside as her hands went down and laced through the strands of Thor’s hair as her head fell back and she whined his name. “Thor...please…” she panted, biting her lip as he brought her closer to the edge.

Despite the fact that she had given up on the game, Thor couldn’t bring himself to stop. She smelled and tasted so damn good and he wanted so bad to bring her to release. The way she moaned his name aroused him in ways he could never explain and he needed to be buried within her more than anything. He knew she was close, so damned close. He wanted to stop and strip off his pants and bury his cock in her, desperate to be engulfed by her heat. To feel her throb around him as she came. But that would come soon enough, he would bring her to release multiple times tonight before taking her for his own. 

“Come, my dove,” Thor murmured as he looked up at her, her eyes glossy as she was lost in bliss. “Come for me…”  

Feeling his tongue slide through her once more sent a jolt through Phoenix, and she threw her head back and cried out as she came with a vengeance. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as she screamed his name, gasping for breath, hips bucking against his mouth. Thor’s tongue continued working her through it till the waves ebbed away and she was left panting, a pleasant tingling starting at her core and spreading through her arms and legs.

“Mmmm yes baby…” Phoenix breathed, her eyes closed, body listless with a sated smile on her face. “You always make me feel good.”

Thor let out a chuckle as he pulled away, wiping her juices from his beard he climbed to his feet and enjoyed the sight of her splayed before him. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.” he said as he slowly undid his pants, pushing them down as they had become uncomfortably tight. “You failed in concentrating on the game though.” he said as he climbed onto the bed, looking down at her face as he hovered over her.

Phoenix let out a weak laugh, opening her eyes to look up at him and smiled. “Well...it’s called Hard Mode for a reason.” she murmured, reaching up to cup his face in her hands as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. She moaned into the kiss, letting out a content sigh. “I love you…”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” Thor murmured against her lips as his hands moved down to grasp her hips, lifting them up he slowly sank his cock into her, groaning at the wet heat that enveloped him. “Now I'm really going to make you feel good.” he murmured, determined to make her cum many more times before he was finished. He was just getting started.

[muffinrecord]

JP Magia Record Quiz

So the current event on JP is a quiz. These are easy mode questions. Now, there is kind of a problem here in that I don’t read (or speak) japanese, HOWEVER! I can work with a translator! Behold!

BR-BRILLIANT.

Oh good god. S-small cube?

IT WAS CORRECT EASY PEASY

This is an arc 2 question! Uh... Uh... Okay, so it’s about Kimochi, which means like... “feeling,” and then we use Kimochi gems/stones for SE so... Feeling Stone?

IT WAS CORRECT OH HELL YEAH FUCK ALL YALL

...Special missions?

HECK THAT’S NOT IT. Maybe “Limited time mission” then?

Okay what does “ring iroha” even mean?? Anyways, heck. Umm, it was to cure Ui’s illness, so it must be the two on the left... Oh man, this is going to come down to a translation thing. Which wrong is the wrong wording, is it that the top one is incorrectly in the first person, or is it that the bottom one is incorrectly saying Ui is dead? Well... I’ll go bottom!

FUCK THAT’S WRONG

I couldn’t get this to translate into anything better. I went with “Enchanting magical girl” which was wrong.

OH FUCK I KNOW THIS MIRRORS MIRRORS

YES I GOT SOMETHING CORRECT THANK FUCK

MAPLE AKINO BECAUSE MAPLE IS KAEDE RIGHT RIGHT

YESSSS MY SMALL AMOUNT OF JAPANESE IS HELPING ME

...taxi...

...taxi...

WALLY YES I GOT IT RIGHT

Feck, this isn’t a translation thing, I don’t actually know this one. Uhhhhh I think it’s probably that Yachiyo has been a magical girl for seven years?

YES I GOT IT

WOW THAT WAS

A THING THAT SURE HAPPENED

THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE FUN