#400 notes what the hell(surprised) (positive)

[ooliecat]

this isnt a request i was gonna group it with the previous post but it didnt fit but wanted someone to see it i spent less than an hr on it

[sassypotatoe1]

Like February or so two national newspapers had to cease printing permanently and move completely online because they aren't selling papers anymore, and I don't read these specific papers because they are pretty far right Afrikaans papers that love a little sensation, and I'm not about that shit. I go to check our Facebook because I have to monitor comments there, and I see a post from one of the two newspapers, websites? And it's about a national rugby player celebrating a win with a glass of brandy and coke.

It's a letter to the editor, which if you don't know is something a reader writes and submits to the newspaper that the newspaper then publishes in the opinions section. Now here's the thing, right? Part of the watchdog function and gatekeeping function of news media is ensuring that harmful misinformation or calls to violence or hate speech does not get published, and that includes letters to the editor, even if they are clearly marked as such.

Granted the letter in question doesn't do any of that it's just annoying and preachy and not relevant to the public, so there's no reason to publish it in the first place, but the reader basically said that the rugby player is going to hell because he, checks notes, celebrated a difficult win with his team and, checks them again, did so with a drink.

I'm no longer surprised that these newspapers are going under if they unironically publish shit like this instead of stopping it in its tracks. South Africans are so used to the political landscape being a joke and full of empty threats and promises made for sensation, that a pretty big chunk of the people that do read newspapers here do not want sensation and contrarianism and nonsense like readers thinking an athlete will go to hell for celebrating a win.

The media model in south africa is in a very precarious position. People are wising up, and information is much more easily accessible on social media and news platforms (like ours) that do not charge any fees, and we're in an era where we have to focus especially hard on public interest instead of agendasetting, and many news organizations are behind in this aspect and failing miserably. Organizations that have been around for like 400 years are failing. Because they're still functioning with a "we tell you what's important" model and not a "you tell us what's important to you" model, and it's kinda terrifying.

I myself fall into the habit of shooting down stories because "they're not newsworthy" but when they're shared by our readers and important to them, doesn't that make them newsworthy on the basis of public interest?

This post got away from me a bit but you don't have to entertain every dumbass and religious nut in the name of drama you can just go "sir I'm not about that shit keep it to yourself". I think the whole world will heal a little bit if everyone started doing it.

[hulijingemperor2]

Yao: ready for the cosplay bash, tomorrow?

Zixuan: off course A-Yao. And it's so sweet how you're doing a fundraiser for unprivileged citizens who can't afford education.

You're fabulous.

Yao: thank you.

Education is very essential in life. How would the empire progress without it. Right?

Zixuan: *kisses dimple* right.

Yao: anyone can come to the party, but they must pay an entry fee of 5000 taels.

For my middle-class fox spirits, they just have to pay 400 taels.

Zixuan: how ideal.

Yao: I don't know whether to cos Abe no seimei or Wen Ruohan.

Zixuan: well you do look good in Wen robes.

Yao: you're right.

Zixuan: *grabs hand* Mr. Philanthropist. I'm also a generous person.

Yao: oh really?

Zixuan: yea Yaoyao. That's why I'm going to cosplay as my maid. But if he was gorgeous as me.

Yao: *laughing* you're going to cosplay Nie Huaisang?

Zixuan: nie GOLDEN ERA Huaisang, Yaoyao.

Yao: you'll look glamorous, Zishie.

Zixuan: thank you, baby.

And Huaisang should pay me as well as take notes.

Yao: of course he should pay. You restyled his trademark look.

Zixuan: exactly.

Meng Shi: *enters* Yao'er. Thought of anything yet?

Yao: yep. I think I might cosplay Wen Ruohan.

Meng Shi: amazing.

Your old boss did have some style.

Yao: mhm.

Meng Shi: I respect him, for giving you a high position in the Wen sect.

Yao: nice. What about dage?

Meng shi: nie gui fei is ungrateful and rude, but he has a soft side.

Yao: you're so right, A-niang.

Who are you going to cosplay?

Meng Shi: goddess Amaterasu.

Yao and Zixuan: awwwwww

Yao: A-niang, you'll look amazing.

Zixuan: you're already a goddess. So that will be very easy for you.

Meng Shi: aw Yao'er, Xuan'er.

Where's team d, Yao'er?

Yao: getting their costumes ready, for sure.

They said that they want to surprise me on the day of the party.

Meng shi: I see.

Meanwhile, in Pine Pavilion 📍.

A-qing: Dianxia. Let's cosplay Hualian.

Rusong: ahh Hualian. Sure. *squishes cheeks*

Rusong: you know A-Die had made him an ambassador and protector of fox spirit.

A-qing: oo how legendary.

Rusong: so who will cosplay who?

A-qing: *hugs* you'll be Xie lian. And I'll be Hua cheng.

Rusong: you, as Hua cheng?

A-qing: yea! Because you're a prince like xie lian and I'm your simp.

Rusong: *wraps his arms around her* seems about right.

A-qing: *snuggles*

Rusong: so you're a simp?

A-qing; Rusong, you know that already.

Don't tell xue yang

Rusong: sure. *kisses* I won't tell him.

A-qing: good, Dianxia.

But did your family contribute anything to the cause?

Rusong: yea. We contributed 5 million dollars.

A-qing: lovely. Your Meng family is so nice! Helping out your citizens.

Rusong: and you're part of that family. Being my girlfriend.

A-qing: *blushing* Rusong.

~~~

Next day, the party was about to start.

And many hulijings, as well as A-Yao's harem atarted arriving in their cosplays.

Mo xuanyu: *dressed as hulijing Wei wuxian* yangyang, how do I look? Will I be able to seduce Yao gege.

Xue yang: *dressed as lan qiren* hell yea. You look great.

Su she *dressed as A-Yao*: of course Huangdi will love it. Because you look cute.

However he doesn't have tastes like that evil Lan.

You're a better Wei wuxian because you have superior tastes.

Mo xuanyu: aww thank you, Shanshan.

Xue yang: why did you even cosplay Wei wuxian?

Mo xuanyu: cuz he's chill and I admire his style.

Xue yang: you got a point.

Su she: I'm cosplaying Huangdi.

Mo xuanyu: most perfect cosplay!

Xue yang: yea. Jiggy is the hottest in the Jianghu.

Xue yang: I'm dressed as Lan qiren so that I can make out with Jiggy's Wen Ruohan and pester him.

Mo xuanyu: yangyang, that's so smart.

Su she: quite mischievous.

Xue yang: team dimple is so fab. I believe we should replace people in the Jianghu. Like Minshan can replace Lan zhan, you replace Wei wuxian and I can replace Nie mingjue.

Su she: and our Huangdi will rule the world.

Mo xuanyu: everyone else would have to contribute to Yao gege.

Xue yang: ah, what a perfect world.

Mo xuanyu: *gasps*

Yao: *entering dressed as Wen Ruohan*

*opens fan*

*his attendants also followed him*

Mo xuanyu: *nudging Minshan* it's Yao gege! It's Yao gege!

Su she: he's coming this way. Dressed as an overlord. W...well he already is.....*blushing*

Xue yang: Jiggy is a sexy Ruohan.

Mo xuanyu: is that red and black eyeliner?

And his cheekbones are so profound.

Su she: guys, I'm weak.

Mo xuanyu: do you think we're qualified to talk to Yao gege?!

Su she: sometimes I don't know.

Xue yang: he looks like he'll ignore us.

Mo xuanyu: of course he will. He's better than everyone here.

Xue yang: let's not simp. Before we get a nosebleed.

Mo xuanyu: but it's already happening!

And Yao gege is super hot.

Team dimple: *covering their nose*

Yao: well well. *closes fan and folds his hands behind his back.*

Xue yang: Jiggy.

Su she: you look stunning, Huangdi.

Mo xuanyu: like really really fabulous.

Yao: uncover your noses.

Simps.

Team dimple: *uncovered their nose and knelt before him* you caught us, Huangdi. We were simping for you.

Yao: *smiling* well that's not a new thing. Rise.

Team d: *stood up*

Mo xuanyu: Yao gege. You're really flawless.

Su she: more flawless that Wen Ruohan.

Xue yang: *hugs, and kisses his neck* Jiggy.

You do so many things to me.

May I tie you up with my headband?

Yao: how about I tie you instead?

Xue yang: sounds better, Jiggybun.

Or should I say, Wen Zongzhu. *embraces some more*

Yao: lovely then.

Now stop, you're messing up my hair.

Xue yang: such a diva.

Su she: Huangdi. *bow*

Yao: awww look at you! I'm so flattered,

Shanshan.

Su she: the best person to cosplay.

Yao: you're so sweet.

Xue yang: what about me!!!!

Yao: you're a little sweetheart too. Lan Qiren.

Mo xuanyu: Yao gege.

Yao: beautiful cosplay A-Yu.

Hulijing Wei wuxian.

Mo xuanyu: yea! And hulijing Wei wuxian is at your service, Huangdi.

Yao: delightful.

*opens fan* now let's go.

Team dimple: *drooling while lost for words*

Yao: *smiling proudly*

Mo xuanyu: did you do your own makeup?

Yao: yep. And with some help from my servants.

Mo xuanyu: *blushing* waw.

Mo xuanyu: Yao gege, Yao gege. If Wei wuxian discovers that he's a hulijing, does he have to bow and show respect to you?

Yao: actually yes. Once you're any type of fox spirit, I'm your Huangdi. And they must pay respect.

Su she: *grinning* I want to see him and his husband bow to you.

Guests: *greets them*

Greetings Huangdi.

Hi Huangdi.

Yao: hello. Nice cosplays, guys.

Some more guests: Huangdi, we're dressed as team dimple.

Should we replace them?

Yao: ahahahaha, you can try! Anyways you three look fabulous.

Enjoy the party.

A Kitsune minister: Tenno (Huangdi)

Yao: greetings. How are you?

I'm fine Tenno, your costume party is very cultural. I'm recognizing various of mythological characters, heroes, and dieties of our pantheon. As well as they're people who are dressed as you and your family (including team d, the Mengs and his harem)

And all for a good cause.

Yao: yes, my citizens do have some great ideas for costumes. Hopefully we'll raise funds for education.

Very ideal.

I hope thay we get more cultural fundraisers like this. And in Dongying too.

Yao: certainly will be.

Enjoy the party.

Nice to meet you again.

Thank you very much.

Yao: let's go team d. We have more people to meet.

Xiying: *holding up a plate* try this, Huangdi. It's roasted duck.

Yao: delightful.

On the other side, Rusong and A-qing are dressed as Hualian, and Jingyi is dressed as lan zhan.

A-qing: *playing with the cloth from Rusong's straw hat*

Rusong: *smiling*

A-qing: gege.

Rusong: yes Sang Lang. *wraps his arms around her waste*

A-qing: gege, you look really adorable.

Jingyi: *being a third wheel* do you guys want privacy.

A-qing: *blushing*

Rusong: sorry, Jingyi. For making you uncomfortable.

*let's go*

A-qing: *clears throat*

Rusong: hey, how did you make your Lan zhan hairpiece?

Jingyi: with the help of my attendants. They're surprisingly crafty.

A-qing: that's true. They got me some Miao jewelry for Hua cheng.

Rusong: Jingyi, that's really cool! Your cos is on point.

Jingyi: I know Nainai, and maybe A-Die......team dimple....don't like Hanguang Jun. But I still do!

Rusong: it's fine. And I love your cosplay.

Jingyi: you make a good Dianxia too. Xie lian that is.

Rusong: thanks, A-yi.

Jingyi: oh look. Mistress Jin has arrived.

Rusong: Ling gege!

A-qing: dressed as Jiang cheng.

Rusong: mhm. We'll greet him afterwards.

Jingyi: yea. Lemme go tease him real quick.

See you.

Rusong: I'll be right there.

A-qing: *gently grabs his hat cloth* Mengs do look cute in hats.

Rusong: oh really.

A-qing: gege. *tiptoes*

*kisses him on his dimple*

Rusong: *kisses her back*

Meng Shi: *looking from afar, (dressed as Amaterasu)* good. She kissed my grandson.

Now I'm very happy.

Sisi: (dressed as Tsukuyomi~ the moon diety) they're an adorable couple, Huanghou jiejie.

Meng Shi: hopefully both will get married some time. And Rusong will have an heir.

Sisi: oh my.

Well that's meant to happen.

Meng shi: yes, certainly.

Anyways, Yao'er has to get a girlfriend for Yi'er.

Sisi: I wonder if Moling Su has any eligible ladies for Yi'er.

Meng Shi: maybe. But I want Yi'er to marry a noble hulijing lady. So that their children can care about their hulijing heritage.

In cultivation schools, they would always impose stigmas.

I would love anyone Yi'er falls in love with. But a hulijing is more ideal.

Sisi: I completely agree. If his children are hulijings, then less enmity between cultivators and hulijings would happen.

Meng Shi: correct.

All I want to do is protect my grandchildren and great grandchildren too.

My Yao'er was all alone when I passed away.

Sisi: at least you were there spiritually.

Meng Shi: yes but I wanted to be there physically.

Sisi: now you are, successfully. *bow*

And you'll get to be around your great grandchildren too.

Meng shi: ahh my aim.

I'm seeing Yao'er as Huangdi, now I want to see Song'er as Huangdi and with children. And Yi'er as a sect leader, along with his family.

Sisi: that would be so lovely!

Meng Shi: ah let's stop dreaming about the future, and get some wine.

Sisi: right behind you, Huanghou jiejie.

A-qing: *holding Rusong's arm* xue yang, can I borrow your fierce corpses?

Xue yang: why?

Do you want to be eaten?

A-qing: xue yang. I'm dressed as ghost king Hua cheng. Obviously I need an undead army.

Xue yang: that's a major loss for me. Anyways, be careful. And you better bring them back.

A-qing: yea yea. Xue yang. I got this.

I just want them to obey me so I can impress Dianxia.

Rusong: oh my.

Xue yang: *laughing*

A-qing: you did the same to impress Jiggy, so don't laugh at me!

Xue yang: alright alright.

~~~

Zixuan: *dramatic* Wen Zongzhu, please release my brother!!

Yao: *glares* no.

Zixuan: *pretends to cry*

........Anyways, keep him.

Less saber practice for me.

*opens fan*

Yao: *laughing*

Mo xuanyu: xuan gege! You look better than Huaisang.

Like you're more huaisang than huaisang.

Su she: less bratty too.

Zixuan: I must look good. Huaisang can't do it so.

Xue yang: you look like a rich Huaisang.

Zixuan: aw. Thank you Lan qiren. Haha.

Zixuan: Yaoyao, can we borrow a room after the party?

Yao: Zishie, are you drunk?

You already have a Pavillion here.

Zixuan: ahahaha oh right.

Mo xuanyu: I think Huaisang is consuming you.

Zixuan: I'm terrified.

A-Yao, A-li wants to practice acupuncture on me, because she's cosplaying wen qing.

Yao: oooo acupuncture. Sounds intimite.

Zixuan: *blushing* yea.

Would she hurt me?

Yao: out of love.

Xue yang: wow, I didn't know that you and Yanyan do these kinds of things.

How shameless.

Don't worry, I'm planning to papapa Jiggy later.

Yao: what?

Xue yang: what?

You think I won't do anything when you're looking hot like that.

Su she: please, have some conduct.

Mo xuanyu: i want to papapa Yao gege too!

Su she: ah, if Huangdi insists.

Hauiasang: *dressed as nie mingjue* awww Zixuan Huangdi, you're cosplaying me. I'm touched.

Zixuan: yes Huaisang. Despite you being my maid and an ex war criminal.

Huaisang: *crying* means a lot.

Zixuan: do i look more glamorous than you?

If you say no, I'll fire you.

Huaisang: you look better than me, don't worry.

Anyways, since I'm dage. I can boss you around.

Zixuan: oh now you want to get fired.

Huaisang: nooooo.

Aren't you going to do saber practice at least?

Zixuan: Sect leader Wen. It's that one! Keep him with you.

Huaisang: HUAISANG!

Yao: well if you suggest.

Mo xuanyu: you three are cute.

Zixuan: yea cuz we're competing for Jiang cheng's attention.

Xichen: *dressed as A-Yao* hi A-Yao. *smiling*

Yao: aww Lan Huan! You're dressed as me. You look really sweet.

Su she: how dare you, Lan lips.

Xue yang: you copied Shanshan just to snatch Jiggy away from us.

Mo xuanyu: Yao gege will always be ours, Lan lips. Ours.

Xichen: team dimple, there are a lot of A-Yao cosplayers here.

Not only Minshan and I.

Su she: you better change your outfit.

Yao: *hugs* Huanhuan. You know hoe team d is.

Xichen: yea I know about their pettiness.

Team d: excuse me?!!!

Yao: where are your dimples?

Xichen: I decided to leave them out.

Mo xuanyu: that's so disrespectful.

Su she: you're very very blasphemous.

Xue yang: what's wrong with you, dude?

Xichen: team d, I was working on the costume more than makeup. And I can't match A-Yao's cuteness.

Xue yang: those are just excuses.

Mo xuanyu: someone jail him already. He has done many illegal things.

Huaisang: team dimple will end this guys career for sure.

Zixuan: yea now please get me some refreshments before I end yours.

Huaisang: *pouting* yes Huangdi.

Zixuan: get some for yourself.

Huaisang: r..really?

Zixuan: it's a party, so. That's why.

*opens fan* don't get used to it.

Huaisang: Huangdi is so nice to me today. *sobs dramatically*

Mingjue: *dressed as Mobei Jun* Meng Yao, sorry I'm~~

Wait why are you dressed like him?!

Yao: preference. *twirls* do I look stunning, dage?

Xichen: come on. Our A-Yao is really really cute.

Mingjue: yes. Meng Yao, you look amazing.

Yao: thank you.

Yao: do you feel threatened by me, Chifeng zun?

Mingjue: what?

Yao: you look stunning as Mobei Jun.

That's what I said.

Mingjue: thanks.

Yao: get your ears checked, dage. Haha.

Mingjue: sometimes I can't hear you from this his height.

Yao: stop calling me short.

Mo xuanyu: you guys are like fire and ice.

Yao: yess. Because Mobei Jun is known for his ice cultivation.

Mo xuanyu: yea and dage is cold and lonely too.

Mingjue: mean.

Mo xuanyu: but it's true.

Anyways, stay like that. Yao gege is mine and only I should love him.

Su she: yea, only team dimple should love Ayao. Or else come up to team d standards.

Xue yang: exactly.

By the way, I'm loving the Nieyao dynamic.

Do you guys want a third member?

Wait. I'm Lan Qiren, I'm supposed to be whooping your ass for Ruoruo.

Mingjue: I'm from a different universe.

Su she: good. Finally you realised.

I was worried about you.

How can someone dislike such a perfect emperor.

Mingjue: Meng Yao, turn off your team dimple.

Mo xuanyu: but Yao gege does the opposite with his sexy self.

Xue yang: turn off, team d? *gasps* dage.

Su she: you could never get rid of us.

Zixuan: why is Liu qingge crying while drinking wine and stuffing his face with dumplings?

Oh wait no, that's my husband. Shoot.

Yao: Jiang cheng???? Where?!

Huaisang: he's my husband too!

Emperors: shushhh.

Xichen: he saw A-ling dressed up as him, and got emotional.

Yao and Zixuan: awwwwwwwwww.

Zixuan: he's a softie!

Yao: obviously he is.

Mo xuanyu: why were you stalking Jiang cheng, Lan lips. We spoke about this.

Xue yang: no way. He's dressed as Liu Qingge.

And acting like a wine aunt.

This is hilarious!! JIANG CHENG! POUR SOME MORE WINE! I'LL BE RIGHT THERE.

So the kid cosplayed his Jiujiu?

Jiang cheng: yea, and he looked so adorable.

I feel so touched.

Xue yang: uh huh. Cute.

What brand of rice wine is this?

Do you have any sweet wine?

Jiang cheng: you dare ignore me.

Xue yang: I'm not a therapist. I just came here cuz you look like a crazy wine aunt. In your stoic Qingge cos.

Jiang cheng: sometimes I say that I would stay away from team dimple. But I still confront them. *rolls eyes*

Xue yang: *eating* isn't that a good thing?

[todoscript]

you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.

[dwellordream]

“…To be sure, fatness could often seen as ugly, effeminate, stupid, slothful, and sinful, while thinness was associated with holiness and muscular, lean body was considered manly and martial. However, only listening to the medieval fat-shamers is oversimplifying matters: body fat could also be seen as a sign of prosperity, social status, success, and even rulership. Furthermore, it was often men who were often going to great lengths to acquire a svelte body, while what we might consider extra weight today could be seen as beautiful on a woman.

First, the negative: While heroes of high medieval romance such as Ogier the Dane are often as heroic as trenchermen as they are fighting against Saracens, medieval Europeans inherited from classical antiquity, and in particular from the Roman writer Vegetius, an idea that military life and overweight are incompatible. To be big was not necessarily to be fat. A member of the knightly class was supposed to be both able to afford exorbitant amounts of food and to exercise enough self-restraint and largesse (generosity) to not eat it all himself. For instance, writers such as the twelfth-century Andreas Capellanus distinguished between the unbeautiful bodies of peasants (particularly male peasants) and those of nobles. Similarly, the late thirteenth/early fourteenth century mystic and writer on chivalry Ramon Llull said that anyone too fat was not fit to become a knight.

This tendency became particularly pronounced in the fourteenth century, when both literature and men’s fashion reflected the idea of a powerful but athletic build. Knights were supposed to be athletes, and martial fashion reflected this. The titular verdant cavalier in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is broad of chest and slender of waist, and Chaucer’s Sir Thopas with his “sydes smale” (slender waist) goes riding over hill and dale. Surviving clothing from the period, such as the pourpoint of Charles de Blois kept in the Musee Historique des Tissus in Lyon (c. 1360s) is constructed to give the impression of a broad chest and shoulders and a tiny waist.

…However, we can find ambiguity about fatness even in the courtly tradition. Andreas Capellanus has a woman in one of his dialogues criticize a man with fat thighs as being unbeautiful—to which the man responds that fat legs are not incompatible with virtue. By 1456, Antoine de la Salle’s cynical romance Le Petit Jehan de Saintré ends by the titular hero’s beautiful mistress/patroness being seduced by a fat, unchivalrous abbot out of a fabliau. So, too with foreign lands—the fictionalized John of Mandeville tells of how foreigners ate inordinate amounts, and the romancier Rusticello has Marco Polo report on the prodigious appetites of the mighty men of Zanzibar.

Chief amongst the fighting class were kings and other high nobility, in whom all these qualities were exaggerated. The Carolingians saw prodigious eating (and a laden table) as a sign of rulership—Liutprand of Cremona reported much later that Duke Guido of Spoleto was rejected for the throne of France because he ate too little. (Of course, Liutprand was not necessarily saying this to be complementary of the Franks!) While advice manuals advised rulers to temper their appetites, as the ability to rule self and state were intertwined.

On the counter side, the ability to eat as much as one wished combined with the leisure to be indolent led to some notably large monarchs. We have no shortage of monarchs who were literally the “big men”—and who were criticized for it. Charlemagne himself was noted by his biographer Einhard as having quite a gut; his descendent Charles the Fat got his appellation for his slothfulness in defending France; William the Conqueror’s body could not fit in his sarcophagus; and Louis VI of France’s biographer praised him for going to war despite his enormous girth.

At the very end of the Middle Ages, Henry VIII kept eating like the athlete he had been in his younger days after a jousting injury sidelined him in his mid-40s. While Hans Holbein’s famous portrait of Henry makes the most of the ruler’s perhaps 400-pound weight (estimating from the dimensions of his armor) by presenting his girth as power, by the end of his life, he had to be carried around on a litter. Fatness was this attribute of both peasants and kings.

There was no shortage of defenses of largeness, or even positive depictions, in the less well-born. Peasants rarely got enough to eat, so positive associations between fat and plenty—“fat” soil, the “fat” of the land, and the pre-Lenten “fat Tuesday” feast—are not surprising. Chaucer’s Franklin’s plentiful and dainty table is a symbol of his prosperity and his desire for upward mobility, and his Miller, who is expert at defrauding his customers by keeping a finger on the scales, is “full big of brawn and also of bones.”

Fat clergy are stock figures in tales told by commoners such as French fabliaux, stories about earthly pleasures such as sex and food. Clerics are jolly, plump, and decadent everywhere from the anonymous thirteenth-century La Bourgeoise d’Orléans to Chaucer’s fat monk in the fourteenth century to the postmedieval image of Friar Tuck in the tales of Robin Hood. Their lifestyles were enviable to be sure, but such depictions can be seen as a bit of anticlericism criticizing their prosperity and ease in a time when many did not have enough to eat. Things are not always one or the other: We may admire billionaires’ wealth even as we wish to redistribute it. In the eyes of commoners, friars got fat off the hard work of others—but their largeness was something to aspire to.

Medicine and pseudo-medical writings inherited from the Galenic tradition tended to be value-neutral. To be sure, fatness could be associated with moral failing in “popular” manuals. The section on physiognomy that concludes Secretum Secretorum, supposedly written by Aristotle for Alexander the Great but probably composed in Arabic in the tenth century and translated into Latin in the twelfth, has little good to say about people (which is to say men) with “fat” body parts. On the other hand, Forth holds that the physicians’ manuals tended to not see body fat as a problem unless it became excessive to the point of being unhealthy or disfiguring.

…What about women, and what were Christian attitudes towards fatness? I’ve put these two significant categories last both because women’s bodies are so morally policed in our own society, and because some of our best sources on what medieval women themselves thought—especially explored by Caroline Walker Bynum in her classic Holy Feast and Holy Fast—were religious.

First, plumpness was by no means considered a bad thing in medieval women. Vigarello, in his Metamorphoses of Fat, sees largeness as the sine qua non of female beauty in early medieval romances. The late fourteenth-century Goodman of Paris says that a horse ought to have four qualities also found in comely maidens: a handsome mane, beautiful chest, fine loins, and large buttocks.

On the other hand, Mary, the teenage sister of Henry VIII, was noted by an Italian emissary on her arrival in France to marry King Louis XII as “slight, rather than defective from corpulence.” For women in religious life, though, control over food and extreme fasting—as Bynum explores in Holy Feast and Holy Fast—was a sign of sanctity. So, too, was women’s religious feeling explored in a gendered way by feeding others.

Medical discourses on women’s bodies considered mainly the aspects of health and reproduction. The twelfth-century medical handbook known as The Trotula, for instance, considers the effects of body weight on the age of menopause (35 in moderately fat women), or on choosing a wet nurse (she should be large-breasted and a little fat). For weight loss in both men and women, the author advises hot baths, steam baths, and even burying in sand to induce sweating. The resulting dehydration would, of course, be only a temporary loss of weight, and not a particularly healthy one in the sense we understand it today. Of course, The Trotula also specifies that a woman should also not be too thin, since this would likewise have a deleterious effect on fertility.

One would think that Christian asceticism would militate against fatness, and indeed, thinness could be holy. Religious fasting was mandatory for all Christians, and penance could include a restricted diet. For instance, the sixth-century Irish Penitential of Finnian has anyone considering murder or fornication abstain from alcohol and meat for a year. A cleric who strikes another is put on bread and water for a year, and actually fornicating earned bread and water for two years.

In the fourteenth century, Dante puts gluttons in the third circle of hell, and Chaucer’s clerk of Oxford’s thinness mirrors his love of books over worldly goods. However, this was not necessarily mirrored by reality: The foremost medieval scholar-saint, Thomas Aquinas, the “dumb ox,” was quite obese and suffered from associated comorbidities such as dropsy (that is, a swelling caused by insufficient lymphatic drainage, or, as it’s called today, edema).

Conversely, the extreme thinness of medieval ascetic women indicated a turn away from the pleasures of the flesh—not just, food, but also sex. Since, as medieval people knew, women below a certain body fat percentage often have problems of fertility, abstention from food could mark a woman’s body as not reproductively fit, that is, not that of a wife and mother. In this way, a woman’s fasting could be a way in which she turned away from male control over their bodies. Unlike today, medieval “dieting” (which was, of course, nothing of the sort) was an attempt to be less sexually appealing.

In religious art, saints and other heavenly figures are similarly portrayed as tall and thin—a visual rhetoric carried through to day by using tall and thin models to display fashionable clothes, elevating consumption to the level of worship. (Slightly curvier women, who read as more “voluptuous” and “earthy,” are employed as swimwear or lingerie models… though they still tend to be much taller and thinner than the average American woman.) One of the few exceptions to the uniform tallness and thinness of medieval art is fat wine steward in Giotto’s early fourteenth-century “Wedding at Cana,” whose fatness echoes his stubborn doubts about the miracle. Likewise, Jews were often depicted as fat as symbols of their spiritual sloth.

By the turn of the sixteenth century, Albrecht Dürer was showing how to portray people of different classes by physiognomy—peasants were stouter—and Martin Luther was joking that his middle-aged girth would provide a feast for the grave-worms. By the seventeenth century, painters such as Peter Paul Rubens or Charles Mellin’s, in his famous portrait of the hefty Italian general Alessandro dal Borro, were unapologetically portraying body fat. On the other hand, Rubens’ male nudes are rather fit and athletic, underscoring a dichotomy between female as passive and weak and male as active and strong.

As some of us may strive against it, and others may shame it, normal human variations of body weight have a long history. Our bodies naturally want to put on weight, and they want to keep that excess weight on. However, bodies are mediated through the social. Fatness was read in various ways by medieval people—perhaps as unmartial and unmanly for those who had no problem in obtaining food, but for the lower classes, it was something enviable and aspirational. For women, a certain amount of fatness could indicate fertility, just as a lack of it could indicate sanctity and a withdrawal from the world. But, no matter how it was read, polyvalent medieval attitudes about fatness and thinness were not our own.”

- Ken Mondschein, “Fatness and Thinness in the Middle Ages.”

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses -2

Enter the Warriors

Summary: Three warriors enter our story. How will this turn out for the princesses? 

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 1172

Warnings: Semi-Graphic Depictions of Violence, Smut, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, and some Non-Con overall. Though this chapter is just some technical Non-Con Kissing

Back to Masterlist

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes wouldn’t be a princess’ first choice for a match. You see, he’s not royalty, he’s not even fully human. He’s an orc-human hybrid from a now nomadic tribe of powerful orcs in search of a new home.

His ancestors were driven from their homeland by Sophronius and his forces when iron, gold, silver, and mithril was discovered there 250 years ago. Now they could only settle in any given place for a few years.

Bucky was born to an orc father and a human mother who died in childbirth. He was relentlessly mocked for it along with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson who also had a similar heritage. His sisters’ mother was a witch so she was able to survive.

He formed a strong bond with Steve and Sam at age six when Steve was getting bullied for being ‘a weak halfling’ and having ‘a weak human bitch for a mother’. Bucky was about to go over and bust some skulls when he noticed two things: another orcling was racing over to the bullies and Steve refused to fight back. The bullies soon gave up and Steve got up and dusted himself off.  

Curiously, Bucky walked up to the two other orclings and they exchanged names. Sam asked if it was true about their mothers being humans who died in childbirth and they both glumly nodded. Bucky piped up and said that it won’t matter because they will be the strongest in the tribe. Sam and Steve grinned and they made a promise that day.

It took them eighteen years to fulfill their promise, but it was worth it. They had finally gotten the respect they’ve always wanted. It also didn’t hurt that they were the tallest and could out wrestle anyone in the tribe. Steve was the biggest surprise; he went from a stick of an orcling to a mountain of a warrior. He towered over everyone except Sam and Bucky.

All should’ve been well with them, but something was missing.

Three years later they were chosen to go on a settlement finding mission after one too many scuffles with a few goblins and giant spiders.

The first two days were uneventful, but on the third day they came across an old woman being chased by a sounder of boars. They decided to help her because if nothing else the boars would be a good meal. The warriors made short work of the boars and created a fire pit to roast sounder (18 in total).

The woman thanked them by telling them the story of the lost princesses. Bucky scoffed and said that was a fairytale that his stepmother told his sisters when they were orclings. The old woman gave Bucky a sly look and pulled out an amulet and asked him if he would reconsider. She then went on to tell them where to find them and promised that if they don’t find the city in five days then she would personally assist them in finding a new settlement.

Steve responded that they would consider it, but by dawn the next day she was gone.

It took them three days to reach and cross the Misty Forest. Sam commented that it didn’t seem so bad and was interrupted by a dragon’s roar.

The dragon had to be 400 feet in length with ruby red scales and menacing claws and fangs. It would’ve frightened lesser me; too bad they were far superior to such failures.

They fought the dragon for nearly an hour when Steve realized that the hole in its collar is the same size and shape as the amulet the old woman gave them. He quickly formulated a plan for Sam to get the amulet to the dragon’s collar.

As soon as the amulet was placed, the dragon fell asleep and a path through the thorn bushes opened.

Once they got past the thorn bushes, they were amazed at what was before them. It was the ancient capital of the Nephrashim Empire.

The capital was frozen in time. All of the buildings haven’t aged a day. Hell, even the food was still good as Bucky noted when he grabbed a loaf of bread from a market stall.

The warriors were impressed by the tall buildings (30 stories tops), the spacious parks, the advanced urban planning (water distribution, sewage/filtration systems, trains, intricate statues, and fabled flying machines).

They were most impressed by the palace (think Hagia Sofia in architecture with the overall splendor of Versailles).

The warriors left their dire wolves in the courtyard with some boar jerky and cautiously climbed up the stairs. Once they reached the grand foyer, they were greeted by a ball of light in front of the royal family’s crest. It motioned them to follow it, but it took a few minutes of pestering them that they actually did.

It took them up a few flights of stairs and corridors to a room with ornate double doors. The doors looked heavy but they were no match for Bucky.

The room inside was built to be a large rotunda with a tree growing in the middle and a crystal that was glowing in it. Three bedposts were positioned on the corners of the room as to form an equilateral triangle. Objects either made or inlaid with gold, silver, mithril, and precious gems were littered across the room; Steve made a note of taking some later.

The strangest thing was around the tree were three human-sized pods revolving around it in level with the crystal, and the humans seemed to be alive.

As soon as the trio crossed the threshold, the pods stopped moving and slowly descended onto the beds. A blinding light enveloped them and three bodies took place of the pods.

The ball of light split into three and hovered over each of the three bodies.

Sam suggested that they get a closer look. Each of them seemed drawn to a certain bed.

What they saw shocked them. On the beds were the most breathtakingly beautiful women they’ve ever seen.

Each woman looked quite tall for humans (6’6”). They had luxurious, long, curly dark purple hair that was spread out like a halo. On their heads and necks were intricate gold and mithril crowns and necklaces inlaid with diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. Their warm russet-brown skin was incredibly soft to the touch. Their heart-shaped faces radiated warmth, kindness, and an inner fire few possessed with long eyelashes, adorably broad noses, and tantalizingly full lips. They wore exquisite gowns made of the finest silks and fabrics with designs mirroring their accessories that hinted at their mouth-watering curves.

The balls of light hovered around the women’s lips as if telling the trio to kiss them.

They each picked up a woman into their arms, nuzzled and kissed the woman’s necks and was nearly drunk on their intoxicating scents. They started kissing them as softly as they could, but intensified it when the women responded positively.

That is until they opened their eyes and screamed.

Taglist:

@giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @imdarkinme​ @ne-gans​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @dahkness​ @life-of-yn​ @retroxvailles​ @marvelfansworld​ @aurora-stark-rogers-barnes​ @socially-awkward-insomniac​ @hurricanerin​ @pseudonymphet​ @rosalynshields​ @mcudarklibrary​ @anyatheladyclown​ @macheregrace

[fanfictionaries]

In My Head - Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge

Prompt: “I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader

Summary: Being a technological genius had its ups and downs. The downs being you spent more time in your head than you did in the real world. What happens when that character trait has you seeing a whole new side to Steve Rogers? A lot of new sides. 

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Oral, Throat-Fucking, Dirty Talk, Size Queen, Rough, slight Dom/Sub?, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you @crushedbyhyperbole ! This was a lot of fun and congratulations on 200 followers! <3 

***

It was your fault, really. You were never known for being overtly present. In truth, unless it was completely required, focusing on the world around you was rarely your main priority. Some called you spacey. Others an airhead. But really it was just that you had more things to think about than where you were going or what the people around you were doing. Your high functioning intelligence made things like algorithms and technical designs the forefront of your attention, while everything else just seemed to blend into the background. White noise. That’s why Tony saw you as such an asset to his lab. There was nothing he loved more than someone who focused on their work so much that everything else took the back burner. So, you never felt the need to be apologetic about your airy personality. If Tony found it acceptable and you found it natural, then why was there a need to change?

Well, the events of that afternoon were a testament to the downfalls of your nature. You were stuck on a problem. You couldn’t get the circuitry on Nat’s new and improved Black Widow’s Bites. It kept shorting out and it was driving you insane. The frustration was manifesting itself throughout your body, agitation and pent up energy coursing through your veins. Deciding to run it off, you left your lab in the basement of the compound and made your way to the gym. Hopping onto one of the many treadmills, you whipped out a strenuous three miles, letting your mind wander over your problem with each step. By the time you stopped the machine, you were sweaty, out of breath, and thoroughly satisfied. You were pretty positive you’d fixed the circuitry issue, the only thing left to do was go back to the lab and apply it physically. Lost in thought, you wandered into the locker room, planning on rinsing off and changing into your work clothes. Steam billowed from the shower area, the sound of water running from a single stall. Making your way to your locker, you began to strip in front of it. Dirty clothes piled on the bench in front of you, you opened your locker to grab your towel and soap only to find it empty. What the heck? Where were your clothes? Maybe you were in front of the wrong one. Opening the locker next to it, you found that one empty as well. A few more lockers opened, and you were thoroughly confused. Empty. All of them empty. You were sure that you’d chosen a locker in that area. Coming back to reality in a rare moment of clarity, you looked around you to see that yes, you were in a locker room, but it looked wrong. Everything seemed…flipped.

The squeak of the shower faucet turning off caught your attention instinctually. Looking to your left, you saw the curtain slide open and to your horror Steve Rogers completely naked. You stood frozen; eyes wide as you took in his impressive form. Sinewy, wet muscle stretched from his traps to his obliques, the sharp cut of his adonis belt pointing like an arrow to a light brown patch of curls. What sat below, caught you completely off guard. Steven Grant Rogers had the largest cock you had ever seen in your life. It was a few moments before Steve noticed you as well. Wide eyed and slack jawed, the time ticked on as the two of you stood rooted to the spot in shock, unable to look away from each other’s naked forms. The distant sound of heavy gym equipment broke you from your trance and you let out a squeak, breaking Steve from his stupor as well.

“What the hell (Y/N)!?” exclaimed Steve, covering himself with his hands and staring up at the ceiling. But it was too late, you’d seen it all and so had he. “Why are you naked?!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you cried, running from the room and putting your clothes on as quickly as possible without tripping. You ran barefoot through the gym, your shoes long forgotten on the bench in the locker room. You didn’t stop until you made it all the way to your lab and even then, you didn’t stop.

You’d been in your lab for the past week, working nonstop. Locking yourself away seemed like the best option, and so you only left the small space for necessary provisions like food and bathroom breaks. The loveseat you kept in the room had become incredibly handy as well, allowing you to take small cat naps in between your work.  You hoped that if you could keep your mind occupied, you wouldn’t think about what you’d seen. You wouldn’t think about all that you’d seen. All that he’d seen. But alas, it was no use. All the important and creative things that usually floated through your mind, blinding you to the outside world, were gone. Replaced by more…inappropriate but equally creative things.

Lost in a vivid daydream of riding Captain Steve Rogers till the cows came home, you didn’t realize that the soldering iron you’d been using had slipped from your grip and was currently burning a hole through the sleeve of your shirt. When the searing pain of 400 degrees Celsius came into contact with your arm, you jumped back clutching your arm to your chest.

“Fuck! Motherfucking fuck! Jesus motherfucking Christ! Mother fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scrambled to the sink, yanking up your sleeve and turning the cold water on high.

“Whoa, put a quarter in the swear jar, why don’t ya?” Natasha’s voice rang through the room, obviously having heard your outburst. She came to your side, observing your arm through the clear stream of water, a bored expression plastered her face. “Ehh, I’ve seen worse.”

“You’ve seen worse than a 400 degree Celsius burn?” you asked incredulously, the burning sensation beginning to dwindle as the cold water numbed the pain and flesh.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen what a Vietnam land mine can do to a man, have you?” Natasha asked with blasé, picking up the soldering iron from the floor and turning it off before carefully placing it in its stand.  

“Point made,” you responded, turning the water off and delicately toweling off the area. You inspected your arm further; it wasn’t the worst thing you’d done to yourself in the lab. It may blister, but not bad enough to warrant a hospital visit. Moving to the first aid kit, you pulled out the burn cream and ointment, applying it to your arm followed by a large bandage.

“You’ve been noticeably absent. What’s been keeping you all cooped up?” Nat asked. Her tone was casual, but you’d known her long enough to know that no question from Natasha Romanov was ever casual. Chances are, by the time she was asking you a question she already knew the answer.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Steve then,” you sighed, moving to your workbench and beginning to fiddle with the first thing you saw.

“Something like that—" Natasha smirked “—If you count him glaring at me and insisting it was none of my business, then yes it was a riveting conversation.”

“Then you don’t know what happened?”

“I may have gotten Steve to spill the beans,” said Nat, fighting a small smirk. You rolled your eyes. Spies and their interrogation skills.  

“I didn’t mean to walk in on him! I was thinking about how to fix your stupid bites and—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Natasha raised a speculative eyebrow at you, making you backtrack.

“No, no, I just—I saw…I saw him naked Nat! And he saw me naked and…”

“And?” Natasha asked, not fazed at all as to why it was such a big deal.

“I saw him naked and I liked it!” you admitted, leaning over your workbench and burying your face into the cold metal top.

You heard the crass bark of Natasha’s laughter, “Of course you liked it (Y/N), he’s a super soldier. I doubt you’d find a guy nearly as built as him.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his…ya know!”

“Oh? Please elaborate,” said Natasha, leaning against the workbench opposite of you.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up, holding out your hands out to represent the length of Steve’s well…length. Natasha gasped, “No! You’re lying!”

“I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

“Okay – you have officially been spending too much time with Tony,” said Natasha, walking over to you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “Look – you’re going to have to get over this sooner rather than later and by sooner, I mean a few seconds because I may have agreed to distract you so that you couldn’t run when Steve came down here to talk to you.”

“You what?!”

Just as you made to run for the door, Steve walked through it, the entirety of him making the space feel small. You stood there, staring at each other in awkward silence.

“Well—" said Natasha cutting the tension “—I can see that the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll just be going.”

And with that the red head was gone, leaving the two of you to stand in silence. You stared at the ground, unable to look at the man without thinking about his…oh god, you couldn’t even say it in your head. In all honesty, it shouldn’t be surprising that the super soldier was packing, but you never expected it to be so MASSIVE. God, this was wrong. He was a human being. Not just some piece of meat. Some thick…big…piece of delicious meat.

“Look, about what happened—” Steve began, but you cut him off.

“I’m so sorry Steve. Really, I wasn’t thinking, and I thought I walked into the women’s locker room and apparently it was the men’s locker room and I really shouldn’t have ogled you the way I did and—”

Steve chuckled, stopping your apology in its tracks, “You’re sorry? Here I thought you were upset with me for checking you out.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t even notice. I was too…um, you were checking me out?”

Steve went bright red, “Well, I mean, yea. You’re a beautiful woman and you were naked. I mean, I’m Captain America, but I’m no saint.”

“Oh.” You were quiet, letting his words settle. Steve thought you were beautiful. That was news to you. “Well, I guess while we’re being honest, you were pretty impressive to look at as well.” Some parts more than others.

“And what parts would that be?”

It wasn’t until Steve asked, eyebrows raised and an amused look on his face that you realized you’d said that last part aloud. Shit.

“Is it my…arms? Legs? Chest?” Steve asked, stepped towards you slowly with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You were thoroughly embarrassed.

“Come on (Y/N), tell me. I need to know what my best feature is.” Clearly Steve was trying to lighten the mood, but if he knew what you really thought his ‘best feature’ was, he wouldn’t be treating this so lightly.

“I don’t really want to—”

“Is it my shoulders? I tend to get complimented on them a lot. Or is it my—”

“Your penis! It was your penis Steve! You literally have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” Your hands flew to your mouth, as if you could retroactively grab the words and stuff them back into your brain.

Shock splashed across Steve’s face before quickly dissolving into something different. He took another step towards you, crossing his arms and emphasizing the bulging muscles of his upper body.

“Oh my god. I am absolutely mortified. Please, can we just pretend like I didn’t just—”

“Like you didn’t just say I have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?” Steve asked, smirking down at you, arms still crossed. The words sounded so delicious coming from his lips and heat began to pool in your center.

“Jesus…yes. That. Can we just pretend like I didn’t say that?” you pleaded. The last thing you needed was Steve of all people teasing you about this.

“Hmmmmm, I don’t think I can.” Steve looked down at you in mock thought, his expression speculative.

“Steve, please. Don’t do this,” you pleaded again, turning away from him and moving across the lab to fuss with some equipment. Maybe if you physically distanced yourself, he’d understand that you didn’t find the joke funny in the least. It might also calm you down – your nipples were so hard you were sure they could be seen through the many layers of clothing you wore.

“Do what?” Steve asked from behind you, his voice slowly growing louder as he approached your turned figure. “I’m just curious. Tell me, have you been thinking about my cock all week? Is that why you’ve been hiding? Avoiding me? Because you can’t stop thinking about it?”

You turned, meeting the hard flesh of his chest. How had he snuck up on you so easily? His words were antagonistic, but seeing his face up close, you realized that his eyes held a dangerous glint to them. You used your tongue to wet your lips, throat suddenly feeling dry, “I um…I—that’s—well that’s just ridiculous.”

“Really? I don’t think so—” He uncrossed his arms, leaning down to brace them against the countertop behind you, invading your space “—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body either. How it looked. How it would feel in my hands. Would it would be like to have you under me. Over me. Those perfect lips wrapped around me.”

His words had you in a trance. Had Steve really been fantasizing about you the way you’d been fantasizing about him? There was no way he was interested in you seriously. What would he want with the space cadet in the labs? It had to be purely physical. You’d never been one for casual anything. Still, the thought of his hard, long member in your mouth made you salivate. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together and a small whimper escaping your lips.

“Oh (Y/N), sweetie. If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask,” said Steve, his tone condescending. Reaching a hand up, he tapped you lightly on the nose before pushing away from you and reaching for his belt. You watched as he undid the buckle followed by the button of his slacks and then slowly slid his zipper down. Slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, he pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal the entirety of him. He was even bigger than you remembered – although that might be because the last time you’d seen it, he’d been fully flaccid. Now, you watched as the smooth skin slowly tightened as he grew in length. He grasped himself in one of his large hands and stroked himself a few times, smirking confidently at your slack expression.

“Well—” he motioned down to his fisted cock “—get on your knees sweetie. It’s not going to suck itself.”

The words should have angered you. They should have sparked a small flame of defiance that said, ‘suck it yourself, you asshole’. He was being presumptuous, cocky, demeaning.

And yet…

You dropped to your knees, wasting no time as you wrapped your lips around the thick head. He was thick, unimaginably so, but that didn’t deter you. Relaxing your jaw, you let your tongue run along the underside of the tip. He tasted heady, raw, masculine. The musk of his skin and salt of his precum coated your tongue as you took him deeper. Forming a seal around what length you could manage, you sucked languidly, bringing a hand up to grip the sizable rest of him.

Steve moaned, a hand coming down to lightly rest of the top of your head as you bobbed on his cock, “That’s it. What a little cock slut. You like that? You like worshipping this dick? You can barely get halfway down but look at you try. It’s so adorable.”

You shuddered, his words causing a visceral reaction in your body. You could feel it, the wetness building between your legs. Sinking deeper onto his length, relaxing your throat and allowing just the tip to pass the threshold, you slid a hand down your body and up your skirt. Not even making it to the inside of your panties, you felt the proof of your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. You moaned, trailing your fingertips over the slick and up to meet your soaked center.

Fingers threaded into the hair on the back of your head and yanked harshly. You cried out, reaching up to grip Steve’s forearm as he pulled you roughly off his cock and back up to your feet.

“Look at you,” he said, running a thumb over your spit soaked lips, the saliva dribbling down your chin as you breathed heavily. “So pretty.” He pressed his thumb past your lips, letting it rest against the flat of your tongue as he gripped your jaw tightly in his hand. Slowly, he slid the digit further and further back before removing it and replacing it with two of his fingers. When he reached the back of your throat and met no resistance he kept going, a look of pride on his face. He was impressed. He fucked your throat with his fingers, your hair still gripped painfully in his other hand. When he was satisfied, he pulled his wet fingers from your mouth and brought them down below your skirt, shoving past your panties and using the moisture to rub your already sopping cunt. You whimpered at his touch.

His eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze challenging you to say something. To say anything resembling a no. It was like a test. A test to see how far he could push you. How far you’d let him push the boundaries of what was and was not acceptable. So, this was what the great Captain America was into. You could tell he liked to see you like this, pliable like putty in his hands. His to shape and mold. You could see it in the way he almost vibrated with satisfaction when you gave in. When you let him use you like an object. In that moment, you never felt more like an object. Steve made you feel like you were nothing but a body to play with and use for his pleasure. The way he looked at you. Like he wanted to possess you. No. Like he already owned you. Your mind told you to run. It told you that everything he was doing was wrong. But your body, your body had never felt so alive. If Steve Rogers wanted to treat you like an object, then call you a fucking lamp.

Sighing in satisfaction, Steve gripped your hair tighter and began to walk, dragging you towards your small loveseat. Tripping over yourself, you attempted to keep up with his long, fast strides. He pulled you roughly onto the cushions, positioning you onto your back with your head hanging off the side. Your skin prickled with anticipation as he flipped your skirt up, yanking the thin material of your panties down your legs. Next was your shirt – body raising off the couch long enough for him to pull the material over your head. The cups of your bra were pulled roughly down, revealing the soft flesh of your breasts, nipples peaked. He gave the sensitive tips a gentle squeeze; your body arched into his touch.

“So sensitive. I like that,” Steve hummed, moving to stand above your head. Gripping his shaft, he pressed the tip to the seam of your lips, “Open.”

You did as you were told, opening wide to allow his length to slowly slide into your mouth. Conscientious of your teeth, you took him as deep as you could. When his cock met the barrier of your throat, Steve’s hand came down to stroke the delicate skin of your neck. He ran the tips of his fingers along the length, his touch feather light.

“Relax. Breathe through your nose.” His voice was firm and commanding. Tilting your head further back, you relaxed your tongue and throat, allowing him to slide further and further until his pubic bone met your chin. At the realization that you had managed to take all of him down your throat, your pussy clenched, and clit throbbed. Breathing heavily through your nose, you waited as Steve kept himself still inside your mouth.

“Now—" Steve began, breath coming in rough pants, “—I’m going to fuck this tight little throat of yours. How does that sound?”

You moaned around his length, making him growl at the vibrations.

“Oh, I think you like that. Why don’t you touch that little pussy? Play with your little clit while I fuck your throat with my cock.”

You touched yourself, the sweet pull of his erection only adding to your arousal as he began to thrust in and out of you. He was gentle at first, taking his time. But very quickly his pace became erratic and so did your fingers at your center. Dipping your hand down, you fingered yourself, feeling the building sensation of an orgasm on the brink already. A second hand at your core caught you off guard. Steve was leaning over you, his own hand pushing your fingers out of the way and diving into your depths. His fingers were longer and wider than your own, reaching places previously untouched.  

“Fuck! You are absolutely dripping. Does this turn you on? My fat cock using your little throat? If I’d known you were such a little slut for big cock, I would have shown it to you a long time ago.” He continued to finger you, your own hand at your clit, hips bucking uncontrollably as you chased your completion. You were growing lightheaded, unable to breathe through your nose as well, as he used you for his pleasure.

“You’re close. I can feel it. Come on my fingers. Come on my fingers while I come down this tight little fuck hole,” demanded Steve, fingers picking up pace. His other hand wrapped around your throat, feeling his own cock moving through the thin layer of flesh. He squeezed ever so lightly, the pressure making him moan. Your vision began to turn black, head drifting ever higher as the coil in your womb grew tighter and tighter until it was too much. Your body convulsed under him, crying weakly around his length as your orgasm took over. The last thing making it into the conscious forefront of your mind, the sound of Steve’s own release and the warm sensation of his cum splashing down your throat.

When you came back to reality, you found yourself wrapped up in the warm arms of a certain super soldier. Seated on his lap, he rocked you gently, a large hand stroking your back, your hair, your face. Blinking up at him, he smiled down at you. All traces of the hard, patronizing, possessive man were gone. Replaced with the soft, kind eyes of the Steve Rogers you and the rest of the world knew.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice soft, as he stroked your cheek.

Your own ‘hi’ came out cracked and hoarse, evidence of the rough session that had just occurred. Steve looked down at you, his face a mixture of adoration and regret.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, “I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t mean to lose control like that, I just—you just—” The words escaped him. He looked away exasperatedly.

You reached a hand up, cupping his face and making him look back down at you, “Hey, I’m okay. I’m a big girl. You didn’t break me.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful when he returned it.

“Are you sure? I mean, you passed out,” Steve said, giving you a look akin to a kicked puppy.

Who was this man, that he could go from dominant and possessive to sweet and child-like so quickly? Shaking your head, you laughed lightly, lifting up to place a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips soft and firm against your own. He held you close, arms strong and protective around you. Pulling away, you looked up into the blue azure of his eyes, “I’m sure. Besides, you know me – always stuck in my head.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[maddie-the-princess]

If you love me, Let me go (Part 2)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: High School 

Pairing(s): LAMP

Summary: Virgil and his family are new to the neighborhood. He starts a new school where he learns to love himself, and maybe, love his new friends. 

Warnings: Virgil’s parents being jerks, some mild language

Thank you to @kuroyurishion for helping me with this chapter. Please enjoy the story. 

Chapter Two: Patton and Dee

Virgil’s POV

I was jolted awake by the blaring alarm on my phone. Groaning, I rolled over and turned it off. It was 6:45 AM, and it’s my first day at my new school. That’s just great. Reluctantly, I got out of bed and wandered into the bathroom to take a shower. A half-hour later, I got out and got dressed in whatever I can find in my dressers. I stood in front of my mirror wearing a Panic! At the Disco t-shirt, ripped black skinny jeans, black jacket and black converse. I put on my black eyeshadow, fixed my hair, and painted my nails black. I have now become fully emo. I heard my mom call me from downstairs.

“Virge, honey?” she yelled. “Breakfast ready!” I walked out of my room, bracing myself for what they’re gonna say about my outfit. ‘Please don’t tell me to change.’ I thought desperately. In the kitchen, he sees his dad reading the newspaper and his mom bustling around, putting pancakes and bacon on plates. She’s all smiles, but it vanishes when she sees me. She looks at my outfit with pursed lips. I grimace.

“Honey,” she says as politely as she can, “what are you wearing?” At her question, my dad finally looks up at his son with indifference. I grimace again.

“Isn’t that the same thing you wear everyday son?” my dad asks. My mom nods in agreement. 

“That’s right Virgil! This is your first day at a new school! You should make a nice first impression! You should wear something nice, and look presentable, and not look like,” she waved her arms, gesturing to my entire body, “that!” she concluded. Without another word, she brushed past me and went upstairs. “Hold on honey, you still have time to change. I bought you this nice shirt and sweater you can wear. And while you’re at it, take off your makeup, too. It’ll ruin your new look and-”

I heard enough. I grabbed a Tupperware from the cabinet and stored piles of bacon in it, before closing it tightly. Grabbing my bag, which contained my books, wallet, keys, and other necessities, I stormed out of the house without even a goodbye. I didn’t want to listen to my parents judge me for what I was wearing. I knew what my mom wanted me to wear, and there was no way in hell I was gonna wear that. Sighing softly, I walked to school, crunching on the bacon I stole from the kitchen table. My school wasn’t too far away, only about a ten-minute walk. 

The school wasn’t small, nor was it too big. It was perfect enough to house at most 400 students. I walked into the school cautiously. My heart was beating quickly. I pulled my hood up as I walked toward the receptionist’s desk. There was a young person sitting there with short hair colored a vibrant blue. Smiling, the receptionist beckoned me over. 

“Hello! You must be the new student!” the receptionist greeted me professionally. “My name is Talyn, they/them pronouns. And you are?” they asked. I was surprised. No one ever asked me for my pronouns before. Maybe this school will be different. I snapped out of my musings to answer them.

“My name is Virgil Sullivan. He/him pronouns.” I replied quietly. Talyn smiled and gestured down the hall to my left. 

“The principal would like to meet with you before classes start. Good thing you came early.” they said. “His office is the first door on the left.” I nodded my thanks and hurried over to the principal’s office. A man seated at a desk was talking to another man in a suit. They both looked at me when I walked in, making me nervous.

“Oh so you’re the new student!” the man in the suit exclaimed. He smiled warmly. “My name is Thomas Sanders, he/him pronouns, and I’m the principal of this school.” He gestured to the person at the desk. “And this is Joan, my secretary. They/them pronouns.” 

I smiled and repeated the greeting to Talyn. Joan nodded and typed something up on their computer. Thomas decided to make small talk with me. “Because you’re new, we’re gonna have someone with a similar schedule as yours to show you around.” he said. I nodded when I heard the printer spit out what I believed to be my schedule. I took it gratefully. Then there was a knock at the door.

A shorter boy with curly brown hair walked in. “Hello, I’m Patton Hart. Nice to meet you!” I swore there was positivity just radiating off of him and he was very, very happy. 

“H-hey.” Dang it, why did I have to sound so nervous. He's just going to show me around nothing more. 

“So can I see your schedule kiddo?” I nodded, his question bringing me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I handed the bubbly boy my schedule and he looked even more excited than before.

“We have Art together!!” he squealed. Well I guess he likes art, and that's something we have in common but why should I care? He's just going to show me around and then we will go our separate ways. I glanced back at him, he had a bright smile and looked really excited. Well maybe we’ll go our separate ways.

I followed him out into the hall and he immediately started pointing out people and saying hello. It was a little overwhelming, but I guess that's what he’s normally like. About 10 or so minutes later he had shown me where all my classes were and the bell rang. That was the five-minute warning bell. He gave me a hug before running off to his first period class. ‘Well, he was cut- nope he was nice and nothing more.’ I thought.

I turned back to my new locker and put a few of my books in, then headed off to math. Arguably the subject I detest most. It just doesn’t make any sense! Groaning when I reached my class, I walked in to find my teacher already standing in front of the class. She looked like the stereotypical no nonsense strict teacher, her hair in a bun and everything. Wordlessly, she pointed to a desk in the very back corner of class and told me to sit there. Well damn, I didn’t even get a chance to introduce myself. Silently, I sat down at my seat and took my textbook and notebook out, ready to at least try and pay attention. 

I worked for about ten minutes. I took notes on whatever she was teaching, and she handed out a worksheet for homework and let us do whatever we wanted for the rest of class. When she reached my desk, she also handed me the syllabus for the year and told me the basic rundown for her class. She asked me questions on what I learned in my previous school, what I needed help with, the usual questions. I answered whatever she was asking and she finally left me in my little corner. I sighed with relief. She didn’t seem to like me much. 

“Psst.” I heard someone whisper beside me. I looked over to see a tall boy wearing a yellow shirt with a black jacket. He had vitiligo, and honestly, he looked pretty cool. He had dark skin with paler patches, especially over the left side of his face. He grinned at me.

“‘Sup short stack.” he said teasingly. I huffed out a greeting. “You can call me Dee.” he continued. He leaned towards me. 

“What do you want?” I asked quietly. Dee hummed. 

“You look like you need a friend.” he replied. 

“Why?”

“Because, short stack, if you hadn’t noticed, all the preps in this class are looking at you like you’re fresh meat.” I was true. Looking around, people were looking at me strangely. They looked at my clothes, my makeup, my pale face. I could almost hear their whispering. My heartbeat quickened. Dee gently placed his hand on my arm. “Calm down. This is why I’ll help you. You seem cool, and I don’t want someone like you to fall victim to these guys.”

I nodded my thanks. “My name is Virgil.” I introduced myself quietly. Dee smirked. 

“I think you and I are gonna get along quite nicely.”

Anyone wanna be in my taglist? Let me know! 

Taglist: 

@sure-i-exist

[mittensmorgul]

So everyone around here should know by now that I find s6 really narratively shaky, and it clearly has its ups and downs. That murky middle section I cringe my way through every time, some dubious-at-best standalone eps. But it also has some of my absolute favorite episodes in the entire series. 6.11 is right there. 6.09 is the most delightful soulless!Sam episode and just delightful in general. 6.15 tops most people’s lists. And then the run I watched today-- 6.17 through 6.21.

I went back to the Hellatus Rewatch Notes I did over the summer, and wasn’t surprised to find just this one post with three short paragraphs:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/186154895705/619-mommy-dearest-ouch-this-marks-the

and this tag: #i just couldn't face writing long wailing meta about the manipulation revealed in 6.20 today sorry

I’m not sure I’m in any better place to write that long wailing meta today, but I’m going to at least try. The narrative we’re seeing spin out over the first half of s15 deserves it. I think it’ll be easier if I talk about this whole chunk of episodes at once, though. S6 might be pretty slapdash as a whole, but this run of episodes in particular seems to all be working together to tell a coherent story, and to be setting up massive narrative paths that Dabb Era has chosen to walk back down from a different perspective. So rather than talk about each of these episodes, I’m gonna talk about what they mean, for the cosmology of the universe, Chuck’s role in all of this and how the parallels have been drawn back to this by his actions in s15, and Castiel’s position in all of it. Dean’s, too, but I’m even going to talk about that in relation to Castiel, because for better or worse, s6 had played the long con on Cas, and as far as we knew at the time, the Storyteller had won...

We’ve all discussed the disconnect between Dean and Cas in s15, but so much of that has fallen into debates over which one of them was right or wrong in their disagreement. I don’t think EITHER of them was right, OR wrong. They’ve just been coming at this fundamental question of Free Will from opposite sides, for the entire series.

For billions of years-- or according to 6.20 at least 400 million years or so if Cas was standing at a shoreline watching the first fish flop itself up on land-- Cas has been. S4 established his character, showed us his doubts in Heaven’s plans that led him from loyalty to rebellion, through torture and brainwashing to fighting free of that in the end. That established his journey into understanding free will and humanity, truly, in ways that he expressed in 6.20 that he desperately tried to share with other angels. Most of those other angels... never understood, never had a reason to understand. Like teaching poetry to fish. Even the angels loyal to Cas, or who didn’t want to follow Raphael in the wake of the failed apocalypse, never seemed to understand this.

S8 gave us some additional insight into Cas, through Naomi’s description of him as an angel that never followed orders, at least not completely. That he’d always had a rebellious streak, or perhaps just a spark of curiosity and interest in creation, and humanity specifically. He refused to participate in horrors inflicted on humanity in the name of Heaven and had been punished by it and programmed back into angelic compliance every time.  But until Dean Winchester, he’d never truly rebelled. He’d never rejected Heaven entirely. And even then, that rejection didn’t happen until season twelve. He’d still been trying to maintain a loyalty to the other angels even through s9 when Metatron told him he may drape himself in the flag of Heaven, but he still did everything for one man. I don’t think that was a lie at that point, but I do believe it’s something Cas hadn’t actually admitted to himself until that point. And he wouldn’t admit it to another angel until 12.19, when he told Kelvin in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t acting on Heaven’s behalf, but to spare the Winchesters.

(yep, even then, after the mixtape, after all of that, Cas was still on about Sam and Dean... and even in 13.04 as he argues with the Empty for his freedom, he still frames it in terms of Sam and Dean... ironically the same thing that Dean has taken heat for when talking to Cas, always making it “you, me, and Sam” in 11.23 and the beer run scene and in 12.19... Cas is just as guilty of not being specific as Dean is, for different reasons, but to the same effect)

Back to s6 though. Cas did make his choices. He was adamant (on flashbacks from 6.20) that Dean was “retired,” that he wasn’t to be dragged back into their fight, even as he was desperate to ask Dean for his help. (again, I still blame Sam and his terrible promise he extracted from Dean in 5.22 for that one) Regardless, that choice led Cas down a cascading spiral of worse and worse choices in a desperate attempt to shield Sam and Dean from what I’ll call The Story. Except in doing so, he’d only kept digging the hole for himself deeper and deeper, not realizing that he hadn’t been set up to be the hero, but the villain.

This is the position Chuck seems to desperately want Sam and/or Dean to finally accept in s15:

Chuck: No, this is more, this is….. hope. That’s what’s stopping me. You, you still think that Dean and Cas are gonna fly through those doors just in the nick of time. You still think that you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.

And that’s exactly the taunt Metatron used on Cas in 9.18. And it’s exactly the taunt Crowley used on Cas in 6.20:

CROWLEY You kill my hunters. Why can't I kill yours? CASTIEL They're my friends. CROWLEY You can't have friends, not anymore. I mean, my God. You're losing it! CASTIEL I'm fine. CROWLEY Yeah. You're the very picture of mental health. Come on. You don't think I know what this is all about? CASTIEL Enlighten me. CROWLEY The big lie -- the Winchesters still buy it. The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore.

and this is part of a much larger passage-- their entire conversation in Hell-- but the point boils down to this:

CROWLEY Granted. Yes. But just to show you how serious I am about this scheme...How about I float you a little loan? Say, 50 large? 50,000 souls from the pit. You can take them up to heaven. Make quite a showing. It's either this or the Apocalypse all over again. Everything you've worked for -- everything that Sam and Dean have worked for -- gone. You can save us, Castiel. God chose you to save us. And I think...Deep down...You know that.

YOU CAN SAVE EVERYONE, CASTIEL. Dean, Sam, Humanity, Earth-- even Heaven and, grudgingly, Hell too. And in doing so, prove God resurrected you for a PURPOSE. This was what Cas needed, what motivated him the entire year he resisted bowing to Raphael and obediently falling in line while the apocalypse started up again. He could have a purpose, a mission.

Cas had still been struggling with this in Dabb Era. His desperation to “get a win” in 12.19 stemmed directly from this absolute fall into hubris from s6, ending in the release of the Leviathan and Cas’s apparent death again in 7.02. He’s been trying to atone for that guilt ever since.

But in all of this, Cas has never really forgotten what it was to be an angel, what it meant to serve God and to serve Heaven. There was no free will. The few times he questioned his orders, he was punished, tortured, and reprogrammed back into line. He’s fully aware of all of this. For him, learning the extent of Chuck’s manipulation of the story is more a confirmation of his entire experience over billions of years, while that revelation absolutely shattered Dean. For Dean’s entire life-- the blink of an eye for an angel-- he’s believed in very little other than his own personal choices.

Essays have been written about Dean’s underclass upbringing, his life on the fringes of society as a drifter and a con artist, going from town to town under false identities and living a life in the shadows. And yet Dean has always believed that was of his own choice. That he wouldn’t have chosen to do anything else, that he would’ve been bored in a “normal life,” and proved that in season six when he leaves his last chance at a normal life behind with Lisa and Ben and throws himself entirely back into hunting. Because that’s the tragedy. That’s Chuck’s story for both Sam and Dean... they don’t get to be happy.

(this is why I don’t trust Eileen’s story with Sam, fwiw, because that was literally exactly the story Chuck intended her for, exactly the same as Lisa)

This was Sam’s story with Jess from the pilot episode. This was Dean’s story with Cassie, Sam’s story with Amelia... with Rowena... Every time they have a chance at a relationship, Chuck turned it into a tragedy.

But back to the point here...

Dean prized his free will above all else. He’s doubled down on that sentiment even in s15 talking to the girl he didn’t yet know was actually Lilith, confirming that he’d never want to live in a world where all his choices were made for him, or where the whole game he was playing was engineered specifically for him to lose. He’d always stood firm on the point that-- for better or worse-- all of his choices had truly been his own.

(again, why “I didn’t have another choice” is the worst thing any character can say on this show)

For Dean, Chuck’s revelation shattered him, possibly even more than Cas’s betrayal in 6.20 did. And for all he cares for Dean, for all he’s studied Dean and learned about humanity and free will from Dean over the last decade, Cas still can’t understand why, because it’s not the same identity-destroying revelation for him, as an angel who’d had to fight for every choice he’s ever made, as it was for Dean who based his entire worldview on the choices that made him who he is as a person.

And s15 is taking all of these themes from the run up to the end of s6, and turning them inside out.

What makes a hero?

What power do we have against “destiny?”

What power do we have against a seemingly unassailable enemy?

What morally or objectively wrong paths will we be led down before we discover it’s all a trap?

What chance do we have at real happiness, and what would that even look like?

What sacrifices are we willing to make to ensure that humanity overall will prevail against impossible odds?

What ~actually~ needs to be done to stop the eternal cycle of apocalyptic tragedy that Chuck has put them through from the start? (Raphael just wanted to reboot s5, Chuck has shown his hand that horrific tragedy is always his intended endgame, regardless of what form it takes)

Can we achieve a real victory without unleashing an even greater horror on the world for once? (s6 ended with Godstiel eating purgatory, s7 started with the Leviathans escaping into the world, and now Chuck is obsessed with Leviathans and monsters again in s15, while Jack is literally consuming angel hearts and supposedly attempting to gain enough power to kill God... but what will consuming that power make Jack into? He’s already “eaten” Michael, Cas has already stopped Belphegor from “eating Hell” and becoming a new evil god, but Rowena ended up becoming the vessel of Death that brought all those souls back to Hell, effectively neutralizing that particular threat at least for the time being... but this is definitely something I’m still mindful of as the season progresses)

All of these questions were crucial in s6, and throughout the entire series, but this was Cas’s character turning point, and it’s what he’s been fighting his way back from ever since. I can’t help but think that-- like with Belphegor in 15.03, like his choice to return to the Winchesters in 15.06, like his journey to Purgatory with Dean in 15.09-- he’ll be confronted with these specific choices again.

A few other points from these episodes that I think are interesting to keep in mind:

6.17 and the confrontation with Fate herself. If Chuck doesn’t get you, Fate will, or so it would seem. A lot of the themes of this one hit again in 13.19 Funeralia, with why we shouldn’t mess too much with the natural order. I just watched it a couple nights ago, so it’s incredibly fresh in my mind. I still think that episode is incredibly important to what Billie is meddling with in s15, in ways that haven’t entirely been revealed yet.

6.18, and more time travel done right. But also, the Major Sign we all should’ve been more focused on in what Rachel revealed, and what the Winchesters accidentally tipped her off to about Cas. She implied that the Winchesters were becoming a massive drain on Cas’s attention and time in Heaven, when we know the Winchesters had hardly seen Cas all season. When Rachel investigated what Cas was actually up to, she discovered the truth of what he was up to with Crowley, and he was forced to kill her for it. What he wouldn’t do to protect his tenuous shield around the Winchesters? It’s taken them until s15 for them all to finally get on the same page.

6.19, and the pure pain. 

6.20, oh right, THIS is the pure pain.

CASTIEL I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you. DEAN Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me. CASTIEL You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will -- DEAN You're a freakin' child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want! CASTIEL I know what I'm doing, Dean. DEAN I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't...Just 'cause. I'm asking you not to. That's it. CASTIEL I don't understand.

I think he understands now. Or at least he’s miles closer to understanding.

6.21, okay let’s just take everything from Dean and complete Cas’s fall into the role of Big Bad.

I know I had a point in mind when I started writing this, but I’ve written myself out again :’D

[lyricfulloflight]

Ok, how about an angsty fic where Raven seduces Charles' boyfriends to "check they're faithful"

Okay, so my initial reaction to this prompt was: “horror, pure horror”, “Raven did what now?” “That bitch”.  But then, I wrote about it anyway.

I am not yet at 400 followers, so this post will be a bit of a tease.  I am at 398 followers though, so very very close.  When I get to 400 maybe I’ll fill a happier prompt?

I am posting the start of this because what started as a drabble is now turning into a fic.  So here’s the 2,500 + word ‘intro’ to the fic (dear lord what is wrong with me), that tackles this specific prompt.  Note to readers:  Erik is no where to be found in this part.  I decided, for reasons, that Erik would, ever be fooled by Raven trying to get him to cheat on Charles.  Never. (I think I decided this for my own sanity).

This fic will then continue, likely on AO3 at some point, as a fake-dating fic. I will include a few more notes at the end of this intro section to explain what will I have planned next.  

The Fall

Charles tried to be angry at Raven.  He really did.  He knew (as a telepath, how could he not know?), that most people would have reacted with anger, or outright rage.  Somehow, even all these years later with his mother and Kurt far away, hardly any influence left in his life, he could not help hearing their voices in his head; “You’ve brought this on yourself Charles.”, “This is all your own doing, young man.”.  The anger, the shame, the pain of it all turned inward.

Charles slipped away from the door where he’d overheard Raven talking to Hank, tiptoeing without so much as a sound - thank goodness for thick carpets.  The scene he’d just witnessed played over and over like a record stuck in an endless loop.

“Well I have to make sure don’t I?  That they really care for him.”  Raven had explained.  “Charles is such a horrible judge of character.  He really is the worst telepath of all time.”

“Still,” Hank had protested. “Luring his boyfriends away from him, tempting them to cheat, on purpose…that seems a bit much.”

“Look, two of those guys wanted to sleep with me when I was a woman and told me they weren’t even really gay.  If Charles can’t pick boyfriends who know their own sexuality, then he obviously needs my help.  You wouldn’t want him to actually keep dating these men would you? They all cheated on him!”

“With you. Because you intentionally tried to lure them away.  What if you hadn’t intervened?  You never know everything might have been fine!”

“It wouldn’t have been fine, Hank.  They’re CHEATERS.  If they didn’t cheat with me, or whoever I was pretending to be, they would have cheated on Charles with someone else.  They are scum.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. I’m protecting my brother, like any good sister would.”

“I feel the ethics of this situation are rather…murky.”

“Whatever, Hank.  I am a great sister.  A loving, protective, thoughtful sister who wants only the best for Charles.  And all his boyfriends have been awful, so I have no regrets.”

Had all his boyfriends been so awful, Charles wondered?  Perhaps they had.  Luke had been quite self-obsessed.  Really any man who needed to go to the gym every single day, and complained when they weren’t open on Christmas morning, was likely not the best match for Charles. Oliver had clearly been more interested in Charles’ money than anything else – he’d always looked happier after Charles gave him a present than he did after sex, which had been more than a little depressing.  Peter, well Peter had a small…appendage…and Charles was certain he would have broken things off with him even without Raven’s ‘helpful’ interference.

It was difficult to remember all the times he’d caught his boyfriend’s cheating, or had to listen to their admissions of having cheated, and realize that every single time his partner, the man he’d loved (or was at least hoping to love) had been kissing his sister.  Best not to think about it too deeply.

Hank, of course, had a point – perhaps the cheating never would have occurred without Raven forcing the issue.  Which, of course, was where the anger should have come in.  But Raven had a point too, they may well have cheated anyway, they could have already cheated before Raven’s seductions for all Charles knew – and that, that was where the self doubt came crashing through.

It seemed, and really how had Charles not realized this before, that he simply was not very lovable.  He was not worth someone’s commitment, their devotion, or their undivided affection.  Charles, by himself, was not enough.  His mother had certainly known, and his step-father.  Apparently even Raven knew Charles was lacking, why else would she have done what she’d done?  Why else would she have had such success?

Clearly, it was time to give up dating, to give up the fanciful idea of finding ‘the one’.  It was simply a waste of his time.

Charles spent the next six months devoting himself to casual encounters, one-night stands, fuck buddies, and random hook-ups.

He also spent very little time with Raven, though if anyone asked he would have vehemently denied it was intentional.

Casual sex was…empty and meaningless.  It burned at Charles’ heart and ate at his soul.  To go through with it, to make himself into the person he needed to be to flirt outrageously and tempt men who would clearly otherwise overlook him, he drank.  He drank a lot.  He drank copious amounts of fruity drinks with little umbrellas and sexually charged names.  He was reckless and wild.

It worked.  Though, honestly he didn’t much like himself in the morning.

He still got up and did it all again the next weekend.  And the weekend after that.  And the weekend after that.

Eventually it had to start feeling right, either that or it had to end.

It ended.  To be precise it crashed into a heap of of drunken excess and drug induced haziness.  

It ended in with Charles being shaken awake by a troubled looking young woman in the very dirty bathroom of a club who’s name he couldn’t remember.

“Are you okay?”

Charles peered up at the young woman through heavy lids that couldn’t seem to open completely.  His head was pounding, his telepathy muted to nothing more than a whisper, and he wasn’t completely sure he could stand if he tried.

“I’m fine.”  He winced at the croak of his own voice.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.”  The young woman replied pointedly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Charles felt at his pockets and found them empty.

“Would I be able to use your phone?”  Charles asked with a wince. “I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Took your stuff, huh?  Assholes.  Come out to the front, you can use the phone at the bar.  I don’t really have much money I can lend you -”

“No, no, I don’t need any money.”  Charles rushed to interrupt. “I…I’m sure someone can come and pick me up.”

“You know…”  The women began hesitantly, “you should probably use my phone.  You…you’re not going to want to go out there.”

“I look that bad, do I?”  Charles said with an embarrassed smiled.

“Yeah. You look…well, make your call and see for yourself.”  

She held out her phone and Charles took it.  He dialed a number he hadn’t called in months, crossed his fingers and hoped for an answer.

Raven picked up after six long rings.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Raven.  It’s Charles.”

“What the fuck are you calling me for at five in the morning?”

“I need you to come get me.”

“Come get you…are you in some kind of trouble Charles?  Are you hurt?”

Charles could hear the sounds of movement through the phone and the edge of panic in Raven’s voice.

“I’m fine.”  He answered. “I just…someone stole my phone and my wallet at a club and I need a ride home.”

“Where are you?”

Ah, good question.  Charles took the phone away from his face momentarily and smiled his best charming smile at the young woman currently staring down at him.

“Where am I, exactly?”  He whispered.

He wasn’t exactly surprised by the sad look the woman gave him as she recited the name of the club and its address.  Charles was more than a little depressed to realize he was quite so far away from his home in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  It would likely take Raven the better part of an hour to come get him.  He sighed.  There was nothing for it, he had no one else to turn to who cared enough to come get him and had a car.

Charles got back on the phone and gave Raven the address.  He had to pull the phone away from his ear  when she yelled at him for being an idiot and making ridiculous choices and why would go to some club that was almost outside the city, etc, etc.

“You’ll come get me though.”  He ventured when her tirade ended.

“Yes, you fool.  I’m almost down to the parking garage.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Charles hung up and handed the phone back to the young lady, and thanked her profusely for her kindness.  She nodded, gave him one more sad, troubled look and then left.

Alone, Charles managed to heave himself up off the floor, though not without a great deal of effort.  His limbs were stiff and sore as if he’d spent a good portion on the evening stuck in a very uncomfortable position, which frankly seemed quite likely.

One look in the mirror was all it took to understand why the young female employee had thought he might not want to come out of the bathroom. Charles was absolutely covered in…things.  He was almost certain a great deal of the sticky, multicoloured stains on his shirt were from various types of alcohol.  However, he also had to admit that the crunchy, dried substance in his hair was most certainly not alcohol. He immediately turned on the tap and stuck his head under the bathroom sink.  There was no way in hell he was going to have Raven pick his up from a club with come stuck in his hair. He had some dignity after all.

After washing his hair as best he could, Charles decided it was best to try the same with his shirt.  He winced as he struggled out of his white v-neck shirt, his muscles protesting each movement.  He succeeded in the end, and ran the shirt under hot water for several minutes before wringing it out and sticking it under the hair dryer in an attempt to dry it out.

As he held his shirt under the air flow, he took a quick glance at his torso and discovered he was covered in bruises, many of which bore the distinct look of finger prints.  His neck was worse than anything, absolutely covered in great purple bruise and teeth marks, one of which appeared to have broken the skin.

Charles found himself shaking at the sight and the realization he had no idea how he’d gotten any of the marks.  A wave of nausea hit him like a freight train and he stumbled into the nearest stall and vomited violently.

What in the world had he done?  How could have have let himself fall this far, spiral to such an incredible low point?  Waking up in a bathroom with no memory of the night before was appalling and terrifying.  As a telepath, he was generally cursed with excellent recall of people and events.  He couldn’t remember anything about the night before beyond accepting a particularly large slushy drink from a man at the bar.  Which meant, dammit, that he had more than likely been drugged. Lovely.

When Raven arrived he was going to get her to drive him directly home, where he could have a very, very hot shower, and he was immediately heading to the nearest clinic for testing.  And he was never, ever doing this again.  Ever.

Forty five minutes later, almost on the dot, the kind young lady from earlier poked her head into the bathroom and let him know his ride was here.  By that time Charles shirt was still stained, but mostly dry and smelled slightly less of alcohol and…other things.  Charles took one last look at himself, the damp hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the mass of bruises on his neck and prepared himself for an epic dressing down from his sister.

Her absolute stunned silence when she saw him was somehow a million times worse.  Raven always had something to say and to think his behaviour had literally shocked her into silence was a clear message unto itself.  Charles had crossed a line that even Raven had no response to.

The silence lasted almost until they reached Charles’ apartment building.

“Charles…” Raven’s voice was barely audible above the low level volume of the radio. “what are you…what do you need me to do?”

Charles sighed. “I’m going to go upstairs and clean myself up.  Then I need to head to the clinic.  You’re…”  He closed his eyes, hesitant to make the offer, but determined to push onward, “you’re welcome to come with me if you like.  But I’m fully capable of taking care of myself if you’re busy.”

“Fully capable…” Raven whipped her head around to stare at Charles as she parked down the street from his building. “Charles have you seen yourself?  You look atrocious.  You look…I’ve never seen you look like this in my life.  I will take you to the clinic.  I will take you to a therapist.  I will take you anywhere and do anything that will guarantee I never, ever see you like this again.  This is scary Charles.  You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry.”  Charles said, reaching out to touch Raven’s hand. “I made a mistake.  It’s not going to happen again.”

“I’ve barely seen you in six month Charles.  Has it been six months worth mistakes?  Six months of morning like this that I didn’t know about?”

Charles felt crushed under the helpless look in her eyes.  The truth was the last six months had been full of out of character behaviour and more than a few risky choices.  Nothing compared to the past 24 hours though.

“I…I’ve had a rough go of it lately.  I was trying to be someone…else.” Charles said, meeting Raven’s gaze directly.  “I was trying to be someone who’s sister didn’t feel she had to vet their boyfriends because they were a shit judge of character.  I was trying to be someone who’s boyfriends didn’t all cheat on him with said shapeshifting sister.”  He finally admitted.

“Oh. Oh, Charles.”  Raven’s eyes teared up, though in typical fashion, she somehow held them at bay. “I didn’t know…you weren’t supposed to know.”

“I know.  But I found out and I thought…I thought I should try something different.”

Raven huffed. “So you decided not to judge anyone’s character at all and just sleep with any man with a pulse.  That’s a brilliant choice Charles.”

Charles winced as Raven struck him firmly on the arm.

“Promise me you will never do ‘casually reckless’ again Charles.  Promise me you’ll just go back to being you.  The real, genuine you that I, and anyone worth your time, will love.”

“I promise to never do casually reckless again.”  Charles vowed.

They exited the car and walked slowly to Charles’ building where they were greeted by a surprised, but doing he best to hide it, doorman who had known Charles since he was sixteen and starting college. Charles felt himself flush from the roots of his to the collar of his shirt.

When Charles finally got upstairs and opened his front door he felt a wave of relief: home, safety, comfort.

Raven however, wasn’t quite done.

“You didn’t promise the last bit Charles.  You didn’t promise to be your genuine lovable self again.”  She said with a teasing smile.

“No I didn’t.”  Charles agreed. “I think…I think after everything, the last six months, my inability to have a loving committed relationship with a man who won’t cheat on me, I think I can admit the truth:  I am simply not fit for romantic consumption. That man, that ‘lovable’ man you think me to be?  He doesn’t exist.”

Charles turned on his heel and headed for his room.  He took a long hot shower.  He went to the clinic and got tested and waited none too patiently before he finally received a clean bill of health.  He moved on with his life.  If that life was now a perpetually lonely single life, he told himself he simply didn’t care.  He told himself he didn’t care so much, he almost believed it.

The End…so far

So this fic will turn into a fake dating situation where Raven and Hank are getting married.  Charles, who has lived in last five years as a celibate monk is in need of a date.  He knows how much it will mean to Raven if he starts dating again, especially for her wedding.  He runs into Erik one day (literally because that’s how this trope works folks) and spontaneous asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend at his sisters wedding.  Erik agrees.  Fake dating commences.

Thank you @akasanata for putting this story in my brain with your prompt.  I apologize for this first part being so…dark, but it really couldn’t be anything but I don’t think.

[elliepassmore]

House of Earth and Blood Review

3.5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, urban fantasy, revenge, mysteries, multiple POVs I cannot believe my rating for this. It's what I think, but it's surprising considering I've liked every other book by Maas that I've read. It's also super surprising that I didn't exactly read the entire book, only most of it. Part of the problem is that this book wasn't what I was going in expecting it to be, so that was a massive surprise once I got into it. The first third and the last third of the book are good, I liked those parts and if that's nearly all it had been, I would've been fine with that. But the parts I read of the middle....no. The investigation sort of dragged on longer than I think it should've. Obviously it can't be solved in a day or a week, but this is a nearly 800 page book when it could've been half that. I've read other fantasy books with mysteries that clock in around 400-500 pages and don't feel rushed (in fact, Throne of Glass is one such fantasy/mystery). I think this is going to be part of a series, but in all actuality, the ending wrapped up a lot of stuff. Sure, there was that epilogue that leaves it open, but if you wanted you can just take it as an answer to some additional questions and leave it at that instead of letting it lead into the next book. As mentioned, I liked the beginning. I loved Danika and the Pack of Devils and their relationships with one another and with Bryce. And Danika and Bryce are pretty much the reason I like the ending as well. I would've liked to see more of them and their OG friendship group with Juniper and Fury. But of course that doesn't happen and everything gets fucked up within the first several chapters. The ending to the first part of the book was predictable and I saw it coming from pretty much the minute characters other than Bryce were introduced. Also, the mystery of where the Horn is was something I figured out pretty quickly once someone mentioned who stole it. Something positive I will say for the mystery and how shit hit the fan the first time is that it is so painful but masterful. Like, if you want to torture someone that's how you do it. So I hate it, but also respect Maas' choice. Bryce was an okay character, I actually liked her. She was loyal and protective, but she was also wrecked, which I think made her a better character. It was kind of annoying how Maas isolated her from her friends--Fury I could understand, but Juniper? And what the hell happened with Ithan? We never get an explanation for those two--but I suppose it was for Plot Reasons. I also wasn't a huge fan of Hunt. He was okay, he had some funny lines, but just as a character he was 'meh.' I'm not really sure the stuff that happened at the end needed to happen, necessarily (*SPOILER* if Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was one of the most powerful ToG Fae and she can't come back from the dead with more than a drop of magic, then Bryce, who had only a drop of magic to begin with, can't come back one of the most powerful half-Fae. I know they're two different worlds, but really? Bug off *SPOILER END*. Okay, okay, so I know Maas has gotten heat for plagiarizing herself before, but I feel it's usually minor enough for it to not be a big issue. Usually. Weird how the kristallos in this book reads so similarly to the ridderak in ToG. And how it's up to the protagonist to figure out what's going on while being guarded by some moody 'best of the guard' character who ends up being a love interest *SPOILER* who also ends up betraying her and ends up with a bloody face because of it *SPOILER END*, you know, not at all like Celaena and Chaol in ToG. And this is totally the first we've seen of glowing starlight magic, right? Or a city getting unexpectedly sacked? And asshole Autumn Kings? Or what about the coincidence that best friends keep getting into remarkably similar tragic accidents that leave the characters describing themselves in grief as having an internal 'light go out' *SPOILER* and then having those best friends come back to aid as ghosts *SPOILER END*? Or that line somewhere toward the end of the book about how Bryce will "bow to no one"? Maas is a good writer. She has some issues, yes, but she's a good writer and I'm sure that she can come up with a book that doesn't blatantly rip off her other ones the way this one does, because while it won't matter to people who only read this series, it will matter to fans who've read her other stuff and find this one $25 worth of repetition. One thing I will say, she's getting better with the LGBTQ+ representation. It's still more in the background than it should be, but at least it's stated from the beginning this time...which is a sorry comment on the state of previous books. I was super surprised when Danika and Bryce weren't revealed to have (or have had) a thing. They're best friends and Bryce is obviously gunning for Connor in the beginning, but parts of the book made it seem like they'd dated or been lovers at one point, but if they did it wasn't mentioned. I do not think she's getting better with racial/ethnic representation. Maybe I just missed it, but I'm fairly certain 95-99% of character in this book are white. Especially the main characters. It's a fantasy world. There are people whose skin is blue (maybe not in this one, but in some of her others), why aren't there people whose skin tone is black or brown? It isn't hard to write representation, all it takes is one or two lines during a character's introduction and some follow-through, something that's easy to fit into an 800-page book. I do like Maas' writing, but I don't think I'll be reading more of Crescent City. While this is her only completely new project right now, if she writes more completely new stuff I don't know if I'll read that either. I think I'll have to settle for rereads and hope that the remaining ACoTaR books will eventually be published. If you haven't read any of her other books (or you don't remember them well), this one is probably fine for you. This is also probably the book for people who like long mystery novels, since that's basically what it is (or maybe not, since it is a tad predictable). As a side note: I might edit/rereview this book later as it can sometimes be hard on the first read-through of something to completely articulate my thoughts on it (and I also might be hoping my opinion changes)

[queen-of-the-vampires]

keep the money

Characters: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader, Damon and Stefan Salvatore, minor characters

Word Count: 1,239

Warnings: all fluff

Summary: Being a young hybrid had its advantages. Like how no one could beat you in arm wrestling. Klaus decides to challenge that.

Square Filled: Arm Wrestling

Author’s Note: This is for my own fluff bingo challenge and if you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Come on! Is that the best anyone can do?” you laughed once the new quarterback of Mystic Falls High left your booth after leaving five dollars. So far, you have made a grand total of about 1,000 dollars by maintaining an arm-wrestling booth at the school’s fair.

Since Mystic Falls is a small town, there were a ton of people that showed up to support the events going on at this fair. While the money you made won’t go directly to you, it will go to your favorite charity that helps children who have been victims of sexual assault. About 200 people have come and gone, all trying their best to beat you, but you have dominated through them all. The deal is that if you beat them, they will have to donate 5 dollars to your charity. If they beat you, you will give them a kiss.

Not a one has beaten you.

Some might call it cheating, but you were one of Klaus’ new hybrids which meant whoever came to your booth would lose. Call it cheating or whatever, but the money does go to a great cause, and that is the only reason why you are using your strength against a population of mere mortals.

“I got it,” a muscular man said with a cocky smirk as he approached your booth.

“You have what it takes to beat me?” you asked, making a show to show off your skinny arms. They didn't have muscle in them, at least not enough that counted, but it didn’t matter. You had the strength of 100 buff men.

“I am Mystic Falls Weight Champion. I bench at least 400 pounds,” he bragged, taking a seat across from you. A group of people had gathered to see if he was going to be the one who could beat you.

“If you don’t win, you have to donate 5 dollars,” you smiled.

“Bring it, sweetheart,” he grinned, holding his arm out. Grabbing his hand, you positioned yourself before ringing the bell next to you. This guy was good, he clearly wasn’t lying when he said he could bench at least 400 pounds, but it wasn't enough to beat you. To give everyone a show, you made it look like he was going to beat you before ultimately slamming his hand on the table. Some people cheered for you while others groaned at the loss of yet another unsuspecting victim.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I guess you didn’t have what it takes,” you grinned as he dropped 5 dollars in the jar. Everyone has seen your abilities and were either too scared to challenge you or didn’t have any more money to blow. As you were counting the money in the jar to put in the safe by your feet, the Salvatore brothers approached your table with ease.

“A kissing booth?” Damon scoffed when he read the sign.

“If you can beat me,” you smirked, looking between the two brothers.

“What are the rules?” Stefan asked.

“Arm wrestle me, and if you can beat me, I’ll give you a kiss. If not, you donate 5 dollars to my charity organization.”

“A charity? What, is that charity you?” Damon smirked.

“It’s a charity to help children that have been sexually assaulted, Damon,” you glared. His smirk fell right off as Stefan snickered. The older brother reached into his pocket before producing a five-dollar bill.

“I’ll take the challenge,” he said before dropping it on the table. Setting the jar aside, you positioned yourself as another group of people formed to watch.

“Ready?” you asked, and he gave only one nod in response. Ringing the bell, you found it with much difficulty to beat him. He was a lot stronger than your other contestants because he was a 173-year-old vampire, but you were a hybrid with the strength of two supernatural creatures. It wasn’t going to be easy to take him down, but it could be done.

“Giving up so soon?” Damon smirked as his hand was overpowering yours.

“Young hybrid beats old vampire anytime. I thought you knew that,” you smirked before using every ounce of strength to pin his hand down. He glared at you as he dropped the bill into the jar.

“Stefan? Want a go?”

“I don’t need that question answered, thanks,” he responded with a chuckle.

“May I give it a go?” Klaus asked as he walked up to your booth. The Salvatore brothers smirked knowing there was no way you could beat Klaus. But you were sure as hell going to try.

“Be my guest,” you nodded.

“5 dollars won’t do justice compared to the thousands of dollars I will put in this charity if you win,” he announced, gathering the attention of even more people.

“Thousands?” you asked, flabbergasted as he took his seat.

“I will be thoroughly impressed if you beat me, love,” he chuckled, setting down the rolls of cash he brought with him.

“Bring it,” you growled, holding out your hand. His fit snugly against yours, and you had to fight the urge to blush. It was no secret that you found Klaus attractive. Hell, you would fuck him if it meant half the town wouldn’t judge you.

His eyes flashed yellow before you rung the bell, signaling the start of the challenge. This was child’s play, he didn't even have to try to pin your hand down, but he wanted you to think you might win before ultimately defeating you.

It wasn’t easy to defeat the Original hybrid, but you were surprised when your hand started bringing his down. The Salvatore brothers watched in confusion as it looked like Klaus was going to lose. Right before his hand could touch the table, he used his power over you to pin your hand down, earning a round of applause from the audience.

“You thought you could beat me?” he smirked, leaving his money on the table.

“Is it a crime to have hope?”

“Not in the slightest. Although, I did hear of a prize if I won,” he smirked, and your face went pale. Shit, he earned himself a kiss.

“Yes, a kiss to those who can beat me,” you said, fully intending on giving him a peck. Getting up, you leaned over the table and pecked his lips. Before you could get away, he clasped his hand behind your head and held you there as his lips moved against yours.

Damn, this kiss felt so nice knowing it was coming from him. The Salvatore brothers looked away in disgust, moving on with their lives as did most of the crowd. Klaus’ tongue swiped your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth as if you weren't at a fair where there were tons of kids. In your defense, the people around you disappeared the minute your lips touched his.

“Now that’s more like it,” he smirked as he pulled away. Your cheeks were flushed as well as your lips were swollen. He knew you wanted more, but it was in his nature to tease.

“Keep the money, love. I got what I wanted,” he smirked, leaving his money on the table as he disappeared in the sea of people that were left.

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[caiuscassiuss]

Mile High Club (M)

NCT/WayV Ten ♡ Female! Reader

Description: The passenger in the first class cabin was getting a little bit... antsy. How convenient that you were a model air hostess that served to please.

Genre: PWP | humor WC: 4k Warnings: graphic smut (fellatio, semi-public sex, fingering, semi-dubcon, domination kink, dirty talk), alcohol, profanity

(A/N: y’all this is just a indulgent fic as a reward for 400+ notes on Muse! i’m going to hell but I hope you like it~)

 “Welcome aboard flight 8374 departing from Bangkok, Thailand on course to Seoul, South Korea. I am your captain Lee Junseo, and if you are in need of any assistance during the duration of the flight, do not hesitate to ask our wonderful flight attendants. We at Korean Stream hope you have an enjoyable flight.” Looking out the window at cruising altitude, you noticed the complete darkness outside only interspersed by the occasional red blinking of the beacon. While this has been a familiar sight to you, the wonder and delight of being 37,000 feet up in the air has not failed to keep you entertained and spirits, lively (as much as they could be in a cabin full of cranky passengers).    Taking the captain’s message as a cue, you and your fellow 5 flight attendants unclick your safety belts and quickly get to the carts.    “Sarah, Sooyoung, to the economy class. Katie and David, get to your positions in business class. It looks like I’m stuck with first-class duty,” you say with a sigh, looking over at the class assignments.    “Why do you sound to put-out? I’m the one dealing with entitled wannabes, here!” David snorted as he fixed his tie. The silver, gleaming name tag emblazoned with Kim, David: Flight Attendant was affixed firmly to the lapel of his dark blue blazer, while his gelled back hair shone.    “Oh, please! My termination could be one misplaced caviar egg away!” you shoot back, as you straighten the wrinkles on your dress you might’ve attained while sitting. You were so lucky that your employment began when Korean Stream upgraded their previous hideous uniforms to gorgeous, elegant outfits. The navy blue dress, with long sleeves and hemmed just above the knee, was set off by an orange-based red neckerchief.    “Our terminations could be a flight away if you don’t get your asses to your stations!” Katie, your chief flight attendant, scolded.    “Yeah, yeah,” the four of you hummed glumly.

   Ten gripped the cushioned armrests of his reclinable chair greatly, the butter-soft Italian leather feeling quite smooth under his incensed grip. He tapped his foot on the carpeted floor and squirmed in his seat, looking around the luxurious first-class cabin he had bought for himself.    Irritation was not an unfamiliar emotion on Ten’s fine-boned visage, whether it be seen screaming at incompetent workers or bossing around employees. However, this irritation was not caused by the little bumbling chit in the secretarial department (who couldn’t tell the difference between the hour and the minute hand) or his gambling step-brother (who seemed to think the company card was his own), but rather his own traitorous, male sexual organ.    Which was barely constrained by the cut of his tailored Savile Row trousers.    Ten hadn’t the slightest idea why this was happening. He hadn’t watched porn in the hours before the flight. No female had tried to impose their physical attentions on his body. Hell, he had gone to the bathroom in the first-class Korean Stream lounge so it couldn’t have been unintentional. All he knew that he had a painful boner in his pants, a slight fear of blue balls, and need to fuck any female at this point.    The successful entrepreneur huffed and opened the remote control panel underneath his armrest, and flicked on the TV. Perhaps the mindless static of commercial television would occupy his thoughts and off of his unfortunate erection. It buzzed on, the cold LED display a harsh contrast from the warm, ambient lighting of the cabin. Ten rested his head on his palm as he flicked through the channels, a spectacularly bored expression on his face as he went through piles and piles of infomercials. Seriously, he paid 9000 pounds for this? Overly smiley flight attendants advertising products he did not want, nor need?    Things were not made better by his still pressing erection between his legs, which he had crossed his legs over in order to stifle it down. Obviously, it had not worked. Ten had the urge to run his hands through his hair but was reminded he had had it slicked back for his business meeting in a few hours in Seoul. If his erection were not taken care of now, well, his case of blue balls would not be pleasant to bear during a meeting with the shipping company he wanted to acquire.    Just as Ten was about to unbuckle his trousers, a pleasant little knock sounded on the sliding partition between him and the rest of the plane.    “What?!” Ten gritted out.    Silence followed. “My apologies Mister… Leechaiyapornkul. If you would like me to come back with refreshments during a more convenient time, I would be happy to return,” an undeniably female voice rang out.    The young CEO was snapped out of his growing annoyance when the soft voice sounded through the partition. A lasvicious smirk crawled up and over his plump lips, a devious and rather naughty plan forming in his quick mind. A flight attendant, hm? He had always wanted to fuck a girl a few thousand feet in the air. Maybe playing with this little flight attendant would help him take care of his little… problem and cross a thing of his imaginary bucket list.    “My apologies. Do come in,” Ten straightened in his chair and settled the Hermés throw blanket provided over his lap.    To his great delight, a rather attractive lady stepped cautiously through the door. Dressed in the signature fitted navy blue dress of Korean Stream, it’s fit hugged her pleasant curves and showed an enticing amount of leg. Killer red heels adorned her feet, that matched her necktie and painted lips and drew his eyes when she bowed politely.    “What would you like to drink, sir? We have sodas and juices, but also a fine selection of alcoholic beverages if you’re feeling for something stronger,” you smiled at him, albeit robotically.    “I find myself in the mood for something a bit stronger, you know. Something that gets the blood pumping through the veins. The harder it is, the better,” he smirked at you, fully aware of the suggestive innuendos coming from his lips.    He was pleased to see the flight attendant— y/n, was her name? That what’s it said on her nametag, so nicely placed at the swell of her breast—look a bit shaken at the clearly provocative undertone of his statement.    “I-I- Of course, sir. We—”    “Call me Ten, now. No need to be so stiff,” Ten smiled.    “Um, yes... Ten. We have Dom Perignon, a great menu of wines, some tequila, vodka—”    “I think I’ll take up the offer on the vodka, please.”    “Coming right up.”    Ten was treated to a magnificent view of your backside, a pert bum giving way to a pair of killer legs only making his erection stiffer.    Y/n quickly came back with a tray of a glass and a bottle of Stoli Elit vodka. She leaned down and set down the tray on his chairside table, before bowing.    His hand shot out to take the glass, before “accidentally” brushing against the flight attendant’s thigh. The cute little minx gasped, her lips slightly parted in shock (which he’d like to see wrapped around his dick).    “Oh? I’m very sorry about that—” not feeling sorry at all “ — that was rather clumsy of me,” Ten smiled at the attendant. She smiled politely and took the vodka bottle and poured some into the glass encased in Ten’s sinuous fingers. The businessman’s fine eye for detail quickly caught on to the fine tremors that wracked the lady’s arm as she served. Secretly, his lips pulled up in a smirk; his plan was working.    It always did.    However, a jolt of turbulence unexpectedly hit the plane, and some of the vodka in Ten’s glass sloshed over onto the attendant’s dress.    “Oh, my!” Y/n gasped in surprise. She put down the bottle of Stoli Elit and began dabbing at her clothes with a wipe she procured from her pocket. Ten was on his feet immediately, his arm stretched out to help.    “Goodness gracious! My dear, I am truly sorry, here, let me help—”    “It’s alright sir, I’ve got it handled myself! I wouldn’t want to trouble you—”    “Here, let us go to the bathroom. Perhaps we can fix that mess a bit with a good rinse.”    “It’s truly fine sir—”    “Ten, and it’s no problem to me. Let us go.”    Silenced by his authoritative manner, y/n had quieted down.    “T-Thank you.”    “The pleasure is all mine,” Ten gestured to the entrance of the hallway with a flourish. You followed him out the door, and Ten smirked as he closed the partition with a satisfying click.    “Truly, it is.”

   Why in the seven hells were you in this situation.    Here you were, leading the way to the opulent bathroom reserved for first class passengers only, with one of the most handsome and successful men you have ever seen on your trail.    Ten Leechaiyapornkul was a man truly blessed with good genes if you had ever seen one. His black hair was gelled back in a devil-may-care style, loose strands framing his sun-kissed complexion. Dark brows were settled over mischievous eyes, like he knew something you didn’t, while his plush lips were pulled up in a slight smirk.    Not to mention his good looks, but his amazing cunning. To have such a successful business at such a young age, you were a bit reverent of Ten’s achievements.    Long, lean legs, quickly caught up with you in the corridor, his height only slightly taller than you. You noticed that everyone was virtually asleep, no TV’s playing and silence permeated throughout the cabin. Well, at least no one would gossip about the pair of you.    You slid open the door to the lavatory, which was not some tiny cramped restroom that could barely fit a toilet and a sink. Oh no, this lavatory fit a toilet, a full counter and sink, and a shower provided for the comfort of Korean Stream’s first class passengers. The room comfortably fit the pair of you.    You immediately made a beeline for the sink and turned on the faucet, all too aware of the dangerous man standing behind you. He clicked his teeth and gently pushed you out of the way, getting some soft towels and running them under the tap.    “Here.”    The businessman bent down to your abdomen and dabbed slightly at the stain, trying to remove it from your dress. His intense focus on his task made your knees slightly shake, and you put a glove-covered hand on the counter to steady yourself.    “Oh dear, it looks like it has gone through your dress,” Ten says sympathetically as he keeps on wiping.    “Perhaps you should try to remove the top half of your dress to get the stain out,” Ten suggested boldly, riskily taking a chance to get to his goal quicker.    “I-I excuse me? That’s highly inappropriate—”    “Compared to the situation we have now? A passenger and crew member in a spacious lavatory together?”    You stayed silent.    “I’ll turn my back, I promise,” Ten swore as he turned back towards the counter, his wine-colored suit jacket stretching over his shoulders as he crossed his arms.    “O-Okay,” you stuttered.    Hell, this was one of the worst ideas you had, but if the smell of vodka on your work attire made itself apparent to your Chief Flight Attendant, you were done for. Stripped of a job and highly enjoyable career, all because of behavioral misconduct. And you couldn’t even ask the passenger to leave, because he was a powerful man with powerful connections that could get you blacklisted.    You slowly unbuttoned the top of your dress, fingers trembling in nervousness. Somehow, your panties dampened unconsciously due to the extremely handsome man in the room. You pushed down the material of the top half and bunched it around your waist. You took the towel and swiped harshly at the stain on the bodice of your dress.    Unbeknownst to you, Ten had a perfect view of the proceedings. You had forgotten there was a perfectly functioning mirror behind the sink so he could see inch by delicious inch of your skin being revealed. When your bra clasp came into view, he decided to make his move.    He turned around quietly and crept up behind you. He quickly unclasped your bra clasp and put his hand on your waist    “I’m afraid my promises mean shit, however.”    Before you could protest, Ten had your mouth captured in a searing kiss, plump lips dominating yours powerfully. You could only grasp onto his shoulders weakly as he slammed you against a wall, hard enough that you are 500 percent sure that someone in the corridor heard it. He nips and bites at our lips, and you involuntarily moan as his hands climb lower and lower. The CEO smiles against your lips and trails his kisses to your neck.    "I don't think... we should do this..." you pant.    "Oh, sweetheart, I know you want this too. Don’t lie to me"     Your fingers grasp at his blazer and quickly try to shove it off, which he obliges in helping with a smirk that clearly signified he had won. Ten roughly shoves a leg between yours, his erection pressing beneath your thighs hard and hot.    You palm his erection, enfolding his lips with yours, fingers teasing. You stroke the bulge in his pants, squeeze and continue stroking while his grip on you grows tighter.    “Doll, you’re playing with fire there,” Ten warns as his kisses trail to your breasts.    You let out a coquettish giggle, and shove a hand into his boxers to touch his dick.    Ten roughly shoves you away and leans against the counter. He crosses his arms imperiously, a king commanding his citizens.    “Kneel, doll.”    You gave him a confused look, biting your lip and looking at him seductively.    You see his knuckles turn white as he balls them up tightly, and his voice grows even more forceful. “No matter how pretty you are, doll, I warned you and now you’re going to take your punishment like a good girl. So kneel.”    You slowly get down to the floor, keeping eye contact with him throughout the whole process. Although he is unwavering in your lustful gaze, you can see the glint of want in his penetrating gaze.    “Yes, sir.”    You draw a finger over the stitching of inseam, slowly and steadily. You deftly unbuckle his Louis Vuitton belt, shiny golden buckles hanging in the air. You smile and carefully unbutton each button of his trousers, taking your sweet time. Your hand creeps out and pulls his hard dick from his briefs.    His length bounces into your face, unceremoniously slapping against your cheek. His cock is one of the best you’ve ever seen, a good length and as thick as your wrist. Perhaps he was physically blessed in many ways. Your thumb swipes over the head of his cock, spreading the oozing precum left and right. Ten still has an inscrutable expression on his face but was frowning a bit harder than he was before. You wrap your whole hand along his dick, pumping up and down quickly before slowing down, then speeding up again.    “I want to see those delicious red lips wrapped around my cock, doll. Get to it.” Ten says after a few seconds of his handjob.    You pout but oblige. You hold his dick carefully and position it to your mouth. Your cherry-red lips open wide suck at the tip of his cock, your eyes locking into his innocently. Your tongue twists patterns and patterns on his oblong length, feeling his veiny texture and memorizing it.    Ten throws his head back and moans loudly, his hands clenching tightly against the counter. Somehow, his legs still hold strong and don’t buckle underneath the pleasure of your rather excellent blowjob.    You decide to get a little riskier and completely remove your hands. Your hands reach underneath your dress and poke at your clit. You squeal a bit, shocked by how sensitive your core is. Your index finger lazily draws circles around your pussy, sometimes even pushing up farther. You lower and lower your head until your nose hits his pubic hair, cheeks stuffed with his cock.    “Oh, doll, you’re doing a great job taking your punishment,” Ten says breathily.    “Thank you, sir” you mumble, your mouth a bit occupied with something at the moment.    You slide your lips back and forth along his length while sucking hard and soft. Ten’s right-hand darts out and clasps your ponytail and shoves your head harder onto his dick.    “Doll, I’m about to cum. Take… Take it like a good girl, okay?”    He strokes his length harder and harder, the head slightly pushing against your open lips. A few seconds later, a throaty moan signifies his ejection of cum, streams of it spurting into your mouth. Most of it gets into your mouth and is swallowed, but some of it splatters onto your chin.    Ten breathes heavily for a few moments and then straightens up. He reaches down as grasps your waist then lifts you up like a limp doll, settling you on the counter with a muffled smack.    “Since you did so well, I’m going to give you a little treat okay? Sit tight.”    He harshly bunches up your dress to your stomach, leaving your near transparent panties exposed to the cool air. The businessman looks like a little boy who found his candy as his eyes rake over your spread thighs encased in tight white panties, eyes greedily glinting as he takes in the view.    Ten shoves down your panties to your ankles and wastes no time in putting a hand to your clit. You let out an extremely loud moan which you muffle with your hand, eyes closed in rapture at the feeling. Ten looks at your face and at your gaping lips, cavern still dripping with cum. He smirks and strokes his thumb against your engorged clit harshly, and a piteous whine escapes your lips.        “Let your moans out, doll. I want to hear them, okay?”    Too focused at the pleasurable feeling in the crevice of your thighs, you do not deign him a response. Ten frowns and inserts 2 fingers into your pussy deeply.    “Do you hear me?”    “Yes, sir!” you cry, pussy clenching hard against his fingers.    Ten tsked and looked at his fingers, now dripping with your juices.    “Oh dear, you’re already so wet, doll, and it’s only been a few minutes. You must want it really badly, hm?”    “Y-yes, yes please!”    “I don’t think you want it hard enough, doll, maybe I should—”    “Please, sir! Please!”    “Please what?”    “Please… Please fuck me!” You cry, intensely frustrated at his teasing.    “Oh, alright. You only had to ask politely.”    With that, Ten shoves his whole length into your pussy, no warm-up or preparation necessary. He immediately sets a hard and fast pace, his belt buckle clinking wildly as he his slam up against your yours. You can feel your back hitting the cabinet several times, the handle digging in harshly into your shoulder blades giving a mixture of pleasure and pain. His fingers dig into your thighs creating red marks, while Ten’s body is almost completely covering yours.    The veiny texture of his cock your tongue had memorized so well was stimulating the walls of your pussy, eliciting wanton whines from your lips. If you had ever witnessed this scene from another standpoint, you would’ve been horrified at how indecent you looked as the dirtiest noises came out of your mouth and filled the charged air.    Ten’s breath was coming out hard against the side of your neck, while he was whispering extremely dirty things in your ears.    “Guess you’re an easy one, huh? Fuck, you feel so good against my cock, shit, I could ride you all day, baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Fucking you wherever I could?”    “Yesss,” you hiss out, a haze of euphoria and pleasure addling your brain as effectively as heroin.    “I could bend you over in the middle of the plane aisle in front of all those people and you’d still be moaning like a whore for me! Shit, who taught you this, huh? You’re so fucking tight, fuck!”    Ten speeds up, hips slapping lewdly against yours. The fear of someone passing by and hearing the illicit noises from the first-class passenger bathroom was completely wiped from your brain. He lifted your legs up to his shoulders, killer red heels pointing up into the air, legs spread apart and quim bared to his hungry gaze.    The new position enabled him to dig even deeper into your pussy, the head of his cock hitting places that you didn’t even know that existed. He surpassed any former sexual partner you had, by far, the way he made you feel was unparalleled. However, the feeling in the pit of your stomach built up and up and up until—    “Ten!” you cry out.    Your pussy clenches around his dick harshly, as you cum hard. This was the first time a man had ever made you cum without foreplay. Your back arched off the counter and pushed your breasts into Ten’s face.    Ten kept fucking you through your orgasm, still looking for his release. You can see his teeth grinding against each other, brow furrowed as sweat beaded up against his forehead. The strands that escaped his gelled hairdo had multiplied, and now many of them swung back and forth at the sheer force Ten was screwing you with.    “Fuck!”    He quickly pulls out and you can feel warm streams of come splattering on the inside of your thighs. While he jerks off, cum spurts sporadically from his dick. Cum drips down your legs, and you can feel a pool of it underneath you on the counter.    Your ragged breaths resound around the confined, airplane lavatory. Coming to your senses, you can smell the raw scent of lust in the air and the mugginess of the bathroom. You can hear the wind of the airplane through the cabin, and the dinging noise over the intercom signifying the seat-belts on sign.    “Well, we better get back, shouldn’t we?” Ten composed himself, zipping back his length into his trousers.    “Yeah…” you absentmindedly say as you work on cleaning Ten’s cum from your inner thighs. He sees and rushes to aid you, finding the linen-soft paper towels of the first-class passenger bathroom.    After clean up, you straighten your dress and underwear, looking into the mirror for any sign of your illicit rendezvous. Thankfully, your makeup wasn’t too far out of place and your hair had a few stray curls, but that was the extent of the damage. However, the satisfied glint in your eyes would signify to any sexually-active person in range to notice that you got fucked.

   You scrambled to the attendant’s seating, at least 5 minutes late after the announcement of turbulence. You drew the seatbelt over you and settled into the plastic cushion of the chair.    “Well, well, well, why is Miss Y/n late?” David asked sardonically.    “Nothing,” you defensively shoot back.    Katie, who is next to you, gives a quick scan over and comes to a definite conclusion, evident in the way her mouth drops and her lined eyes widen.    “Y/n!” Katie gasps.    “What?” you ask.    “Did you do what I think you did?” Katie says hushedly.    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say stoically, hands fidgeting as your eyes travel to your lap.    “I have it on good authority there were banging noises and muffled moans coming from the first class lavatory. So who is coincidentally missing and who happens to also service the area?” Sooyoung sardonically laughs, raising an eyebrow.    “Fine! I… I might’ve… might’ve done something extremely… unprofessional,” you stutter, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Damn, you were caught.    “Might I add not in the curriculum the flight attendant handbook?” Sarah quips.    “Going above and beyond duty, that’s for sure. Was he at least hot?” David asks as the group explodes in laughter.    You grumble good-naturedly, still feeling the small stiff card burning in your pocket, emblazoned in wine red ink with Ten’s number and address.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Sin City- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, implied smut, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

After the police arrived, they cuffed the man who wanted to kill himself, Reggie. That was his name and the man who he killed was named John. You looked around and the bar was empty which you expected. You saw cops everywhere you looked and you thought it would be best if you got the hell out of there quick.

“We should get out of here. There are too many cops here.” You whispered to Sam and Dean.

“Yeah, but just be cool,” Dean muttered back to you.

“Man, that poor bastard. The only thing possessing him was a six pack.” You said to Sam and Dean while walking to the front of the bar.

“So, what’s the deal? People in this town getting possessed or not?” Sam asked the million dollar question.

“I don't know. Maybe it is just what it is— a town full of scumbags.” Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t think that’s what this is.” You said and as soon as you walked out of the bar, you were greeted by a handsome police officer in a tighter than normal uniform.

“Y’all ready for your mugshots?” The officer asked the three of you. Immediately you all stiffened up at his words and you were about to question him when he elaborated. “The photographer's gonna be here in a few and take your picture for the local paper.”

“I’d be an honor, Officer. What a thrill!” Dean said, faking enthusiasm.

“We really should get going,” you suggested and the cop nodded, knowing when he wasn’t wanted. He smiled at the three of you and headed off to the other group of cops.

“Wait a second, wait,” Dean said, looking around the parking lot.

“What is it?” You asked.

“There is no one inside, right?”

“Yeah, the place is empty, why?”

“Then where’s Richie?” Dean asked and you three shared the same look. Richie had gotten himself into trouble.

“No, the question is… Where’s the bartender?” You noticed she was gone too.

In the morning, when Sam was still sleeping, Dean was obsessing over finding Richie. You knew how to hack into many things and tracking his phone was one of your skills. Dean gave you Richie’s number and you did your thing, trying to track his phone. It turned out that he was still in town and you got an address and since it was still early, you and Dean set off to find him.

What you came to find wasn’t what you expected. You found Richie alright but he was dead in some woman’s basement. You swore as Dean picked him up, pissed at whoever did this. Dean didn’t want to just leave him there and while he was giving him a proper burial, you looked around the basement to see if you could find out who did this.

You saw pictures of the bartender hanging around and you thought this was her home but you didn’t think she was capable of doing such a thing until you came across something huge.

“Dean, you need to see this!” you yelled out to him. He finished with what he was doing and walked to you, seeing the pictures of you, Sam and Dean along with someone named Crowley. You didn’t know what this was but you figured she was the demon you were tracking since she had kept tabs on you three.

“Trotter isn’t the demon, it’s her. She must have killed Richie. Poor Richie.” You finished with a sigh.

“Okay, look, Sam can’t know about this yet. Look, I have a plan but I need you to know that this isn’t real and my only goal is trapping her in here.” Dean said, getting out the can of spray paint he had in the duffel bag he brought with him in case Richie was in danger.

“What are you thinking?” You asked, seeing him start to spray paint underneath the rug that was inside the basement. Dean looked up at you before going back to painting. As he worked, Dean told you what he wanted to do and even though you didn’t like it, you wanted to kill this bitch for killing Richie.

“Alright, fine.” You said, leaving the basement with Dean to get Sam and go back to the bar where the bartender worked. You learned her name was Casey and she wasn’t the best of people to be around, you learned.

You and Dean sat at a table in the back, Sam getting the beers at the bar. The place was filled with people as if what happened yesterday didn’t even happen at all. You wondered just how often this sort of thing happened in this town. Sam came back to the table with three beers and sat opposite of you and Dean.

“Any luck?” Sam asked, noticing the disappointed look on Dean’s face.

“How many times I got to tell Richie, he's gonna get himself in trouble?” Dean said with a shake of his head. This was all part of the act since you didn’t want Sam knowing what happened just yet.

“Dean, you're assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed.” Sam tried to think of the positive side of this situation.

“Sam, you don’t know this guy. He’s a moron, a sweet moron but he’s no coward. He wouldn’t just bail on us. We have to go find him.” You said, putting up an act.

“Alright, then in the meantime while you two do that, I’m going to find this Trotter guy,” Sam said, standing up.

“Why? He’s not a demon.” You said to him.

“I want to have a talk with him.” That is all that Sam said before leaving the table. You sighed and turned to Dean, wondering where you were going to start.

“Okay, that was weird. Why is he going after this guy?” you asked Dean. Maybe he knew something you didn’t.

“Look, he shouldn’t get away with what he did to you.”

“What are you talking about? The only reason I didn’t sock him in his jaw is because I didn’t want any trouble and the men he was with were huge. I mean, MMA huge. I know I can defend myself but two of them against me, even I couldn’t come out of that fight.”

“I’m talking about women aren’t objects. He shouldn’t get away with treating you or any woman like that. Sam and I talked about it last night while you were sleeping. He going to teach him a lesson.” Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“Did you not hear what I just said? These men were huge. I know Sam is big and all but these men looked as if they could kill Sam with one punch.” You said, kind of not surprised they would do this.

“Come on, Sam can handle himself.” Dean showed no concern for his brother.

“Whatever, don’t come crying to me when Sam is severely injured because he couldn’t keep it to himself.” You scoffed, just now noticing a woman approaching your table.

“Wow, I have to tell you, every woman in this place want to eat you up,” she said, putting all of her attention to Dean.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, making her look at you.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, I didn’t come over here to talk to just him. Look, I normally charge $400 dollars a night. But, since you basically saved this entire bar, why don’t we get the hell out of here. Just the three of us?” The hooker suggested with a wink to both of you. Was she suggesting a threesome?

“Who the fuck do you think we look like? Go back to the whorehouse you fucked your way through.” You glared at her, offended she would even come up to you and say that. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, flipping you off before walking away.

“Wow, did I just see you two strike out with a prostitute?” You looked up and saw the bartender that was missing yesterday. She was cleaning the table in front of you and Dean.

“Please tell me you’re not like her,” you asked of her, hoping she was better than this.

“Oh God no, I know my own self-worth,” She chuckled, walking over to your table, putting the dirty rag over her shoulder.

“Hey, mind if I ask you a question?” Dean spoke up and she nodded, waiting for him to ask. “You got something going with some guy, you know, about 6 foot, wears a sweatsuit...?”

“Who?” She asked and you didn’t know if she was lying or telling the truth.

“Nah, never mind about that,” Dean said, sipping his drink.

“Okay, I gotta know, what’s the situation here?” Casey asked, leaning against the table.

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“Are you two dating? Just friends? Siblings?” Dean chuckled and he looked at you before looking at Casey.

“Nah, she’s my sister. Why? You looking to have a bit of fun?” Dean asked, smirking at the bartender. You bit your own tongue to keep from acting out. This was all part of the plan but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Yeah, are you sure you can handle it?” She asked, leaning closer to Dean. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at this bitch.

“Why don’t you tell me what time you get off and then I can see just how much of you I can handle.” Dean flirted back.

“Why wait? I can get off now.” She said with a wink before walking off.

“This bitch doesn’t know who she’s messing with.” You growled under your breath.

“Look, I know you don’t like it and I don’t either but this is the only way to get her back to the basement. She knows who we are and she wants to kill us. But she won’t get the chance. You know how I feel about you.” Dean whispered to you.

“Yeah, I know. Send this bitch back to where she came from.” You muttered and pulled away from Dean when you saw her come back to the table, this time without her uniform on.

“Let’s go.” She said, holding her hand out. Dean looked at you before grabbing her hand and walking away from the table and out the bar. You chugged your beer before getting up and paying the drinks. You sighed and walked out of the bar to see Casey and Dean get into the Impala. You rushed over to a car in the back and hotwired it, getting inside before following Dean and Casey back to her place.

You were his backup if anything went wrong. You drove behind the two, your headlights off since you could see without them and parked 100 yards behind them and getting out. You ran across the field and saw Dean and Casey walk into the basement where you had set the trap up. You rushed to them just as the door closed. You sighed and pressed your ear against it and was thankful that it was thin enough to hear what they were saying.

“Looks like the maid's day off,” Dean commented. There was silence for a few minutes before Dean spoke again. “Everything okay?” You couldn’t hear what happened next but you heard shuffling and you hoped Casey stepped into the trap you two set up.

“Oh, I forgot to mention... Richie was a friend of mine. When I realized I could track the GPS in his cellphone, I swung by earlier, gave him a proper burial. It's better than rotting in some skank's basement.” Dean said, giving up his cover. You heard Casey growl but no fight which meant she was in the devil’s trap.

“Sorry sister, you’re going back to where you came from,” Dean said and you pictured him taking out the book with the exorcism ritual on it. You heard Casey laugh which confused you a lot.

“I don’t think so,” Dean ignored her and began reading the book, his Latin perfect. You could remember the nights when John was out hunting and Sam was asleep only for you and Dean to be practicing your Latin. It took a long ass time to get it right but you both managed to perfect it. It’s a shame Latin is almost a dead language.

You heard Dean chanting the verse when you felt and heard the door rattle. You backed up a bit, not knowing what was happening since it was impossible for the wind to be coming from inside the place. Just then, you heard a thump come from inside and the walls of the basement came crashing down. The basement walls were made of stone and when you opened the doors to see if you could get inside, the whole entrance was blocked from the rocks.

“Dean!!!” You yelled, trying to move the rocks but they were really heavy. You couldn’t hear anything that was going on since the rocks were so much thicker than the wooden door and you had no idea what to do. You were glad that you came along but angry that Dean was trapped inside with a demon.

“Shit, shit, shit,” You muttered, taking out your cell phone. You thought before exploring this house, it would be best if you got some backup first and Sam was looking really nice at the moment. You dialed Sam, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hey, where the hell are you two?” Sam answered the phone.

“Look, that bartender is the demon. She killed Richie and now she and Dean are trapped in the basement and I have no way of getting to her or to Dean and I need your help. I’ll text you the address.” You said and Sam agreed to be there as soon as possible. You sighed and dialed your dad, knowing it would be best if he was here too.

“Hey, any luck?” You dad said when he answered.

“Yeah, look, Dean is stuck in the basement with the demon and I have no way of getting to them. I called Sam but I might need your help.” You explained.

“On my way. Fortunately for you, I got the Colt up and running.” Bobby said as he started his car.

“Great, we’re going to need it. Wait, how did you fix it?” You asked.

“Not the time,” Bobby said before hanging up. You frowned and sighed, walking over to the Impala. You peered inside and didn’t see his weapons and knew they were all in the trunk and the only way to get inside the locked trunk was with Dean’s keys which were in his pocket. You sighed and didn’t know what else you could do except wait so you thought of a plan before Sam or Bobby could arrive.

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @oreosatmidnight @seninjakitey @flyonlittlewinchester @earthtokace @gingersnapped13 @superrandomnatural @my-wayward-heroes @stevetrevorstardis @supernaturallover2002 @teamfreewillsstuff @gucci-daddario @22sarah08 @gh0stgurl ​

[tomioneer]

the yyh marathon continues 10 with episodes 31-33

CHU CHU CHU CHU

no, I’m not making train noises

he’s amazing.

i love chu’s stupid hair, I really do. it’s so fun to like, watch move around 

10/10 would date someone with that style ponytail. not the mohawk though, that’s too tall.

better and bigger and BUFFER than I remember damn son

speaking of sons.

soft yusuke

pure, blessed, angel baby yusuke

you’ve realized by now, of course, that I prefer his hair down, but did you ALSO KNOW that i prefer this child is garishly bright coats

no wonder I love napping!yusuke so much and remember these early matches so fondly despite what horrible shit the other kids go through

reminder that they are ALL children

except for rinku. honestly, in retrospect, presumably full-demon rinku is probably older than any of them? 

except for kurama. because. youko.

hiei is somewhere between actually fourteen in human years and like. 300 in demon years, probably.

I feel like kurama, an apparently four tailed fox (I maintain this is a lie, as kitsune can willfully appear to have less tails than they actually possess) is like. four or five hundred human years old at least

koto is a standard kitsune, by the way--transforms into a pretty girl, has one tail in her human form, and is a red fox.

I digress.

chu. chu is an adult. chu is not fourteen, so I can enjoy his shirtlessness without any qualms

koto,  oh my god: “well, they’ve burned their skin, shortened their breath, and somehow lost their shirts. altogether I’d call it a successful fight!”

relatable

they’re laughing, and it’s honestly adorable. 

they’re not hysterical, koto, they’re bonding. 

yusuke used to fight because he had nothing better to do and nothing worth staying out of trouble for, to his perception. maybe he thought it better to get killed in a fight than end up like his mom??? I can’t say

and he certainly never understood keiko’s vested interest in him

he fell in love with that kind of fighting, the carefree brawls where he always came out on top, and used them as a way to prove himself

but now he understands fighting at another level entirely, where his life really is in danger, and the stakes are higher than he’d previously imagined they could be. this isn’t about territory or revenge, he’s been saving lives

and he loves it, and so does this random stranger he’s ended up fighting

of course chu comes back as an ally later

he’s one of the first people yusuke’s ever understood on such a resonant level

thanks for the dramatic preview, kurama, but I really wouldn’t call them perfectly matched

in a fight bewtween two people of equal skill, the bigger one usually wins

or so says anita blake in laughing corpse, a book I havne’t read in ten years lol

so I have a thing for supernatural detectives, sue me

I ran out of ice cream ten episdes and 2 days ago. in retrospect, It hought I was going through these episodes faster than that

knife-edge death match

why is he australian

have I asked that yet, because I’m asking

koenma doens’t like the sound of that but I rmember how this goes and I LOVE IT

shizuru makes a dick measuring joke

watching chu remove his shoes is my new sexuality

btw if you don’t know what ‘toe off your shoes is’ in fanfiction, please watch this sequence because chu does it and yusuke does not

yusuke, I will say again, is a CHILD

yusuke loves the rules of this fight and if it weren’t amanga where he’s not aloud to use the same sort of fight more than once for fear of boring readers, I guarnatee ytou yusuke would do this more often

I can’t believe yusuke and chu are both just standing there in that position waiting with their feet on the sharpened edges of knife blades while the cimmitte decides whether or not a death match is allowed in a death match

yusuke is so small

ominous dark clouds that I missed bc I was typing lol

boys just punch okay

oooh and they even light the fight fo us, interesting

koenma somehow doesn’t recognize someone he knows and has known for years, according to the genkai tournament arc.

yusuke has to reach a lot farther to hit chu

karasu showed up like the little bitch he is

are those tiny eyeglasses on his mask, because if so that is BEYOND STUPID

karasu has a crush on yusuke, I know because his eyes shone and he’s gay

no, I don’t ship it

I could almost ship yusuke and chu though lol

I DO half-ship chu and koto

what the hell, I count them both

ship count: 6/400

kuwabara: I could watch them fight for hours... 

keiko, immediately: I can’t watch them fight anymore!

knowing how this match ends really makes it funny that  the dub, when those plant zombies showed up, had yusuke ask Kurama if he should headbutt them  

shizuru makes an totally unacceptable, but still funny, joke about yusuke having died once already (because they don’t know he pretty much died a second time against rando, and a third time against suzaku)

keiko runs off and shizuru chases her

is this why shizuru meets sakyo? he left his viewing room earlier so I bet it is

I remember shipping them as a kid, let’s see how that goes this time

this is pretty cool actually

she dresses like a first calss gay, honestly

I wishi I could pull that sort of look off

SAKYO hey who guessed he’d show up here , not me

he is beautiful

I actually forgot that this whole time, my favorite fight was going on

I can’t beleive keiko actually got into the fighter’s area and made it onto the field that girl is fucking unstoppable

Keiko, crying: Kuwabara, you have to make them stop fighting!

Kuwabara, clueless: no way, why would I wanna do that?

classic

I read a theory online that kuwabara used to be friends with keiko and yusuke when they were all little, and it has totally changed the way I see it whenever these two interact.

kuwabra genuinely tries to explain this fighter’s mindset to a noncombatant. he is a good, patient boy

yusuke is loving this fight

so is chu

rinku’s internal observations are completely different in the subtitles, saying that chu still has something hidden up his sleeve and it waitinf or the right time to use it, where in english he says that hie wishes the reast of team urameshi had given such a good fight, so rinku could have ‘given his yo-yo a workout’ which is a terrible euphemism for... using his yo yo weapons.

I’m surprised we haven’t gotten more shots of their feet against knives, bleeding

as I went  to type that, we get the first shot of exactly that, as yusuke goes in for his own headbutt to counter chu’s

which was aparently the ‘secret weapon’ rinku meant in the subs

yusuke has beautiful eyes

chu’s head BROKE THE FLOOR

yusuke called chu mate, I dig it

yusuke and kuwabara are cute and gay

oh, they are extra gay when they do sidehugs

I can’t believe that of this whole team only two people are left

yusuke is my hero

he just yelled loudly enough to shup up the entire arena of spectators

“if you idiots got something to say, say it! but say it to my face, or else say it to my fist.” 

that’s a badly written but highly epic and kickass line

I have NO IDEA what chu just said because the audio broke and he has am AUSTRALIAN ACCENT

son of a--

the narrator just fucking punned

yusuke flipped off the toguro kyoudai, and the screen does the dramatic stylized freeze, and the narrator goes, “yusuke may be flippant now”

YOU SUCK

but also it’s a good joke I hate it

where did keiko go during the dramatic pan over the team anyway, she was down there with them.

I rewound and she is Not There.

WHYYYY did they even make Chu say anything??? he doesn’t in the japanese version, there are no subs for him

I really miss the old ED. I love the images for this one, the keiko focus. but. it doesn’t have the same energy. it’s not a jam

now that I thinka bout it, the photograph at the end of that ED could only have been taken in universe on the return trip from the tournament, so I should never have worried that hiei or kurama or kuwabara actually died.

I’m so glad for this arc if only because it’s means all these casual clothes for our cast, and I love that

look how high wasted yusuke’s jeans are, I love it, Ireally do. BOYS , wear high waisted jeans.

during purely internal monolgue, dub yusuke gives a fraction of the information sub yusuke gives by just saying “damn it” instead of “I can’t focus my reiki, why??”

kuwabara’s outside, coincidentally passing by where yusuke is, because hs’ not psychic and ISN’T LOOKING FOR HIM cuz he’s not gay

look, I realize I’m calling yusuke and kuwabara gay a lot. I don’t mean literally gay. 

they are obviously bisexual, or pan, or demi.

I just mean they fall under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella, which is in my region frequently shortened to “gay”

Kuwabara immediaetly ruins my theory by straight up admitting to looking for yusuke and wondering why he wasn’t left a note

kuwabara (paraphrased): I wanna have a team meeting

yusuke, a smarty who already knows he ain’t straight: have a meeting with yourself, then. you’ll learn a lot.

kuwabara, who clearly needs more time: what does that mean?

justas I was about to say tha tI couldn’t beleive they just--left genkai in the room alone, we see that genkai is actually stalking her student now that she’s bored of intimadting kuwabara

we just--that’s the ichigaki team

those poor men

those three poor, wonderul men

I remember nothing about those two demon members of the team but now I’m getting flashes of--delaying hiei and kurama?

thank you kurama, you nerd, for bothering to do research on the next team

yusuke, who now trains on his own time even after running out of reiki: why am I so damn tired?

is this. a filler villain? or did togashi really come up with a character who manifests rubgy balls and calls himself rugby

WHY is the dub so far off the sub right now? there’s no lip flap to match!!

this is awful

buys a fucking gymnast

well he lasted for three minutes before getting killed by his own teammate

GENKAI SPEAKS BLESS HER

oh man yusuke thought is was genkai and is now confused as fuck by this young voice amazing

but why the fuck does she sound young, when she hasn’t exerted herself at all that day

she just, fucking tells them about hiei fucking up his arm

baby YOU KNEW you were making that trade, you KNEW

botan looks a lot like sailor moon right now

keiko confimrs that she is aware yusuke has the hots for her, but also that she can see how happy he is here in the tournament

shizuru’s ass is AMAZING

it’s shocking to think neither hiei nor kurama could tell toguro was alive when they were just a room away from him

why are yususke’s eyes glowing

that whole team is huge, how did rugby even make it on that team lol

‘don’t you have a team?’ “of course I do, but they’re extremely lazy” amazing.

I mean, we know they brothers are famous, but it makes so much more sense WHY they are famous--having previously WON the dark tournament

I wouldn’t be opposed to a movie or something about that tournament, honestly. I want to se more of toguro when he was human. 

I wonder how genkai feels weatching him do this

toguro is sort of like an early saitama, if you strip away personality. their drive at this point is similar from what I know of OPM. 

okay so the dub has creepy-possessive implcations thanks to toguro saying (about yusuke) “that boy is reserved for me”. the SUB on the other hand--toguro just says, ‘it’s a bad day to be a large guy, huh?’ which is fucking. amazing. bold. iconic.

yusuke is sitting next to the previous LOVE of toguro’s LIFE, and he doesn’t even notice her. just yusuke. I guess amask really can hide everything?

I’m stunned they aren’t having more trouble  about sittin ght eaudience that was calling for their blood yesterday.

of course yusuke and his friends have to deal with an extra match lol. 

okay but what’s up with this reigun thing. I don’t remember it at all. 

I guess we just really need to see genkai fight.

i do love and admire her a lot.

on the other hand, I do NOT want to see the vs. dr. ichigaki fight. I remember it pretty well I think? and it was just so--upsetting. 

did we uh. ever get a NAME for the younger toguro brother???

[fhujami]

My other half | Chapter 3 [Sam Drake x Reader]

Pairing: Reader x Original male character, Samuel Drake x Reader

Summary: When destiny chose to call you, in the middle of the wedding hassle, you were excited to went to your last adventure before settling down.

You thought, that after going on the last adventure, you might realise that your life as a treasure hunter was over, and maybe you were ready to start live a ‘normal life’.

But when you had been sucked in to adventure to find Henry Avery’s treasure with your long time friend Nathan, and his mysterious brother Sam, you started to wonder that if stable life was what you were meant to have.

Especially when Samuel Drake felt like he was the missing part of your soul. And you truly needed to fight with yourself and find out what you really wanted with your life.

Words: 1893

A/N: Cursive words between ‘these’ are your thoughts.

Tags: @jodiereedus22  @random-aya @dragonjedihobbit @missdictatorme

My other half

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - 19 - Chapter 20 - 29 - Chapter 30 -

Chapter 3

You knocked Nate’s room door, and crossed your arms to your chest and waited. You heard him mumbling something inside, and his steps coming closer. You knew he’s going to refuse you’re going with them, but you would not let him to leave without you.

When he opened the door, he was little surprised to see you there, maybe he was waiting Sully to come back, or his brother, who you saw leaving Nate’s room not long after you and Sully did. Nate didn’t say anything, neither did you.

You stepped past him to inside his room while looking him with your brows furrowed, walking to the table and taking his notebook.

“So, fill me in.” You finally said.

“What? No, no, no [Y/N], you’re not coming with us.”

“Shut up Nate. I’m pissed at you for lying me and leaving me out of this. I’m coming.”

“No you -”

“Fill me in. If you won’t let me come, I’ll stay up all night, waiting for you to leave and follow you, okay?” you hissed to him and gave him a cold look. He knew that you’ll do that. You had done it before.

“Sully takes Elena back home.” You continued after turning to the table to look at the maps and notes.

You heard how Nate got closer to you. You felt how he was nervous and anxious. But if he wanted to talk, he’ll talk. You knew pushing him is no use.

“So, Henry Avery huh?” You asked when he stood next to you.

He gave you fast details about what they had found and where to head in the morning. He gave you his notebook, so you could learn about the treasure little bit by yourself. You were one of the only people who he might let to see his notebook. It was like a diary to him, even there were no secrets but it was his thing.

“Okay. I’ll look this through. I’ll see you in the morning.” You said and headed to the door.

“[Y/N] wait!”

You turned to Nate, who brushed his hand through his hair, clearly wanting to say something but he just didn’t knew what. You waited and gave him some time to organize his thoughts.

“How is she?”

You gave him a small, but gentle smile.

“Pissed. Hurt. She just need some time. I made a promise that I’ll take you home safely, so she sure is waiting for you.”

Nate nodded, and looked little relieved. You looked him for a moment before you opened the door and walked back to your room.

When you opened your room’s door, you saw how Elena was already sleeping in her bed, poor one had clearly cried herself to sleep, based from the tear traces on her cheek. You sighed, threw Nate’s notebook to your bed and walked next to her, to cover her with blanket and kissed gently her hair.

You laid down to your bed, hiding your face into your elbow and wondered what the hell of a day this has been.

You laid there for a while, before you sat up and chose to head to the small bar next to the motel. You needed couple of beers so you could sleep better, and to be honest, you weren’t that tired not just yet. The adrenaline were already veining in you, when you knew that in the morning you start your one last adventure - and you were going to do it with Nate. You grabbed Nate’s notebook from the bed, and left the room to head to the bar.

Gladly bar was quiet and there were only like ten people inside. You can have your couple of beers and examine Nate’s notebook in peace. You walked to the counter, put some coins on it and ordered your beer while tapping the counter with your fingernails. Your mind was racing when you tried to organize your thoughts and get good picture what was waiting for you.

You sat to the table in the middle of the bar and took a sip from your beer, while opening the notebook, starting to go through the pages.

Nate was always good making notes, and his drawing skills were really useful sometimes, you saw some stretched which helped you to understand and saw the whole picture much better. You smiled yourself when you looked down the notes - you had really missed this. You had really thought you will never got the chance to go to treasure hunting - especially with Nate.

You went through the pages, learned that they had already been in Italy and Scotland before Madagascar. You shook your head, while your eyes were roaming through the small notes in the pages. You chuckled once in awhile to Nate’s little funny or sarcastic note’s on the pages.

When you had finished the last page, you ordered another beer, and put the notebook away.

‘400 millions in gold and jewels. And half goes to Hector Alcazar. Jesus Nate’s brother is one big troublemaker.’ You thought and chuckled little to yourself. Well, Nate use to be same. And if you were honest, he still was troublemaker, on the other hand he wouldn’t be in this situation now. Waiter brought you your beer and you gave him couple bills, ask him to serve him another beer in a moment.

You glanced when you heard someone talking behind you.

“Y/N right?” You turned and saw Sam standing behind you. You nodded and turned your gaze forward and stared your beer. Without asking permission to join you, he sat other side of the table and you rolled your eyes. ‘God what an asshole.’

“What do you want?” You asked. Even though you were going to spend time with him for God knows how long, you didn’t want to see him right now.

“I was hoping you could stay out of this.” Sam said, his voice being deep and little bit angry. Clearly he had talked with Nate, because now he tried to consume to get out of the whole trip. You looked back at his hazel colored eyes when he stared at you with his brows furrowed.

You leaned to the table closer to him, without letting your eyes off from his.

“No.”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

You chuckled and leaned back to your chair.

“It doesn’t matter. Nate already agreed that I’ll join you.”

“Oh, it felt like that you left him no choice when I talked to him.”

“I just wanna make sure Nate is coming home in one piece.”

“Why would you think I won’t made sure of that?” He asked and took a sip from his beer. You rounded your bottle between your hands.

“Well, Sam Drake. I don’t know you. I don’t know if you can be trusted.”

“I’m his brother.” He interrupted you and you chuckled again and took a sip from your beer.

“Yeah, brother who he hadn’t mention all these years.” You saw how his eyes darkened and face frowned. That hit him hard. You could see that in his eyes.

He sighed and laid back on his chair and didn’t say anything. You looked his face, trying to learn him. His nose looked like it had broke many times, probably from all the fights in prison. He had a small scar on his cheek below his right eye, it looked fresh, but also that it had been there for a while now.

But his eyes. In his eyes there was something that bothered you.

The more you look at him, the more you noted more similarity from Nate. Even they looked totally different, there was still something that made them to look like brothers. He also looked little shabby, with his couple day stubble and messy brown hair. ‘But yet he is handsome… Wait, what are you doing? You’re engaged, you’re suppose to get married! You can’t look him in that way!’ You thought and was about to touch your ring in your finger, but you remember you took it off so you wouldn’t lost it.

“So, fifteen years in prison huh? How did you end up there anyway? I’ll guess Nate was there too, or something, cause he told me he’s been in Panamanian jail before.”

You broke the silence and looked at Sam’s body language. You saw immediately the change in his eyes, they got dark, hurt and broken.

“We were looking clue’s to Avery’s treasure. We worked a guy named Rafe back then, he’s after this treasure with Shoreline now too. But yeah, back then, he bribed us in, we were suppose to walk there away but…”

He stopped for a while. He changed his position again and you followed his every movement. How his eyes moved, how his fingers twitched or how he licked his lips.

“Things didn’t go as planned and I got shot and Nathan assume I was dead.”

You nodded, that must have been really hard to Nate, maybe it was too painful to talk about his brother? And that was why he never mentioned him. Either way, he will tell you whole story when he’s ready to it.

“Do you have any experience about this?” Sam asked and broke the silence between you two what had started to flow again, while he roamed his eyes on your body to learn about you. You turned your eyes on him and looked him under your eyebrows.

“I have been hanging around with Nate when he was still treasure hunting, almost fourteen years if i remember right. So yes, I have experience about this.” You said and took another sip from your beer and smiled pleasantly. “Do you?”

Sam chuckled little offended.

“Please, I teached him everything he know.”

“Oh so you teached him how to be a lying bastard?” You didn’t think that of Nate, but you wanted to see what kind of person his brother was.

Sam’s face paled a little, just enough you to see it in the dime bar. You usually saw from people when they were lying, specially when you pushed the beehive, and Nate’s brother was no exception. He was hiding something. And you were going to find out what.

“What do you mean by lying bastard?” Sam’s voice sounded weak and squeaky. You hummed by yourself, that tone only confirmed your suspicions.

“Well if you teached him everything he knows, then he had learn from you how to lie to your love ones.”

Sam snorted and poured the rest of his beer down his throat and hitted his bottle back to the table and stood up. He leaned over the table, and his face were just inches away from yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face. He smelled cigarette, not only his breath, but also his clothes and his hair. That made your throat dry.

“Don’t drink too much so you won’t miss the boat. It’ll be shame.” He tilted his head and lifted corner of his lip to a small smile, before he turned and left. When you saw the door closing behind him, you realized you had hold your breath, so you gasped to get some air into your lungs.

Sam Drake, was the most mysterious man you had ever met. And you were going to find out what he was hiding.