#Across the table so naturally you get rather close. And at one point I got somehow frustrated by smt (I wanted to tie up my hair?

[misskamelie]

Head in my hands, I'm doomed, this can't be going on for this long good grief. What the hell does my subconscious want to tell me. Hate the pms hormonal storm

[goshikisbaee]

Spending Valentine’s Day With Haikyuu Characters (part 2)

[ Atsumu, Osamu, Kita, Hoshiumi, Sakusa ]

content: Fluff

———

ATSUMU MIYA

Valentine’s Day with Atsumu is equal parts romantic and chaotic. You wake up to a voice message instead of a text—“Mornin’, sweetheart! Hope yer ready for the best Valentine’s Day ever.” —followed by another message: “PS: I got ya something. Hope ya like it.”

When he picks you up, he’s got a smug grin and a ridiculous amount of confidence. “Look at ya, lookin’ all pretty for me,” he teases, handing you a wrapped box. Inside? Something sweet—maybe jewelry, maybe a plushie—but knowing him, it’s something he absolutely bragged about picking out. “Knew ya’d love it. I got good taste.”

Dinner is at a fancy restaurent (because of course he wants to spoil you), and he spends half the time flirting shamelessly and the other half showing off. “D’ya see the way the waiter looked at us? Yeah, they know we’re the best looking couple here.”

But beneath all the cocky teasing, there’s so much love in his eyes. At some point, he reaches across the table and grabs your hand, rubbing small circles against your skin. “I know I joke around a lot, but… I mean it when I say yer the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

At the end of the night, he pulls you close, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Happy Valentine’s Day babe. Hope ya didn’t think this was a one-time thing—yer stuck with me forever.” And with that, he kisses you senseless.

OSAMU MIYA

Valentine’s Day with Osamu is effortlessly sweet—he’s not flashy like his brother, but everything he does feels natural and full of warmth. You wake up to a simple text: “Happy Valentine’s, darlin’. Don’t make plans. I got ya covered.”

When he picks you up, he hands you a neatly packed bento box. “Made it myself,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal—but when you open it, it’s perfectly arranged with all your favorites. There’s even a tiny note tucked inside: “Eat up. Don’t want ya starvin’ on our date.”

Instead of a crowded restaurant, he takes you somewhere cozy—a quiet picnic, a drive to a scenic overlook, or even just a lazy day in, watching movies with homemade food. He’s the type to pull you close while you eat, resting his chin on your head like it’s second nature.

At some point, he just looks at you, soft and thoughtful. “Kinda crazy, huh?” he murmurs, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Never thought I’d be the type to get all sappy over a day like this.” Then, with a small grin, he adds, “Guess ya got me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

Before you part ways, he pulls you in for a slow, lingering kiss and murmurs against your lips, “Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart. Hope ya know I plan on spoilin’ ya like this every year.”

SHINSUKE KITA

Valentine’s Day with Kita is quiet, steady, and deeply thoughtful. He’s not one for over-the-top gestures, but everything he does is filled with intention. You wake up to a simple text: “Happy Valentine’s Day. Be ready at 5.” No unnecessary fluff—just a promise.

When he picks you up, he hands you a neatly wrapped gift, something practical yet meaningful—maybe a high-quality scarf because “it’s gettin’ colder, and I don’t want ya catchin’ a cold.” He won’t admit how long he spent picking it out, but the slight pink dusting his ears gives him away.

Your date is simple yet perfect—he takes you to a quiet countryside café, where the conversation is easy, and the atmosphere is peaceful. He listens intently to everything you say, nodding occasionally as he sips his tea. When you tease him about not being overly romantic, he just hums, setting his cup down.

“I don’t need fancy words or big gestures to show ya how much I care,” he says, looking at you with calm certainty. “I’d rather prove it, every day, in the little things.”

At the end of the night, he walks you home, his hand resting securely on your lower back. Before you go, he tilts your chin up gently and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s, darlin’,” he murmurs. “I hope ya know—you’ll always have my heart.”

KORAI HOSHIUMI

Valentine’s Day with Hoshiumi Korei is full of charm and excitement. You wake up to a text that’s as energetic and lively as he is: “Happy Valentine’s Day!! Hope you’re ready for an amazing day because I’m definitely ready!!” His enthusiasm is infectious, and you can’t help but feel excited for the day ahead.

When he picks you up, he’s grinning from ear to ear, practically bouncing with energy. He hands you a gift that’s quirky and fun—maybe a little plushie or something that reflects his playful side. “I thought this was perfect for you!” he says, looking proud of his choice. He’s always got a way of making even the smallest gifts feel special.

The day is filled with adventure, and he’s all about making things fun. Whether it’s going to a lively spot in the city, trying out something new together, or just being spontaneous, he makes sure every moment is filled with excitement. His infectious energy and constant jokes keep you laughing all day. You can tell he’s enjoying every second, and his bright smile only makes everything feel that much better.

Dinner is at a place that matches his upbeat personality—something vibrant, with lots of good food and laughter. He insists on ordering something extravagant, just because he wants to make sure the day feels memorable. “I’m treating you to the best tonight!” he says, even though you’re just happy to be there with him.

As the day winds down, he’s still full of energy but takes a quiet moment to look at you with that genuine, softer expression he doesn’t often show. “Thanks for making today so much fun,” he says, giving you a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m really glad I got to spend Valentine’s Day with you.”

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

Valentine’s Day with Sakusa is quiet, sincere, and unexpectedly thoughtful. You wake up to a message from him: “Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope it’s a good one.” Simple, to the point, but it makes you smile because you know it’s from the heart.

When he picks you up, he’s dressed impeccably, his usual cool, composed demeanor in full effect. He hands you a gift, carefully wrapped in sleek paper—nothing too extravagant, but clearly something he put thought into. “I thought you might like this,” he says, his voice calm but sincere. Inside, it’s something you’ve mentioned in passing, a small token that shows he listens and remembers the little details.

The day unfolds at a relaxed pace. You grab coffee at a quiet café where Sakusa doesn’t say much, but his presence is steady and comforting. He listens intently as you talk, giving you his full attention without the distractions of the outside world. There’s no need for grand gestures with him—his way of showing affection is through those small, meaningful moments.

As the day goes on, he keeps it simple, suggesting a walk through a park or a visit to a bookstore, where he’s content to simply be with you. You both enjoy the peace and quiet, just the two of you, no need for unnecessary words or attention. In these moments, you realize how much he values your presence.

As the night winds down, he quietly pulls you in for a hug, the usual distance between you two momentarily gone. “I’m glad we spent today together,” he murmurs. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” And with that, he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, a quiet, genuine expression of affection that speaks volumes.

———

💋 💋 💋

[hischierswhore]

under the mistletoe (l. hughes)

a note from nat: day 3 of the ficmas series!!!

content warnings: none!

The annual Christmas party at Jack and Quinn Hughes' place was a staple in your friend group—a chaotic mix of holiday cheer, competitive board games, and enough food to feed a hockey team (which wasn’t far from the truth). This year was no different, except for one tiny, heart-pounding detail: Luke Hughes.

Ever since you met him, you had a fluttery feeling in your chest whenever he was around. The problem was that you were convinced he didn’t feel the same way. Despite his bright smiles and the way his eyes seemed to linger on yours during conversations, you chalked it up to his naturally friendly demeanor. Admitting your feelings felt out of the question. After all, risking your friendship seemed unbearable.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke was grappling with the same dilemma. He found himself gravitating toward you at every gathering, searching for reasons to talk to you, laugh with you, or even just sit beside you. Yet, the thought of confessing his feelings made him freeze up entirely. What if you didn’t feel the same? The thought of losing your friendship scared him more than he cared to admit.

This silent tug-of-war didn’t go unnoticed by your friends, who were growing increasingly frustrated with the two of you. Jack, in particular, was determined to put an end to the agonizing will-they-won’t-they situation. “We have to do something,” he whispered to Quinn as the two of them observed you and Luke exchanging shy smiles across the room. “This has been going on for months.”

Quinn smirked. “I might have an idea.”

The party was in full swing, with fairy lights twinkling and Christmas music playing softly in the background. You were standing by the dessert table, nervously eyeing the plate of cookies you had brought when Luke walked over.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your cookies are really good. Like, really good.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, Luke. That means a lot.”

Before the conversation could drift into an awkward silence, Jack’s voice boomed across the room. “Alright, everyone, gather around! We’re doing Secret Santa reveals in ten minutes, but first, we’ve got a little surprise.”

Surprise?

You glanced at Luke, who looked just as confused as you felt. Slowly, everyone began moving toward the living room. Jack and Quinn stood near the center, clearly up to something. That’s when you noticed it—a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway.

“Alright, here’s how this works,” Jack announced, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you get caught under the mistletoe, you’ve got to kiss. No exceptions.”

Laughter and groans erupted from the group. You felt a sense of dread creeping up. This was exactly the situation you’d rather avoid—especially with Luke standing so close to you.

But Jack wasn’t done. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, his gaze locking onto you and Luke, “we already caught two people."

Your stomach dropped as Jack’s finger pointed directly at you. Then at Luke.

“Wait, what?” you stammered, your eyes widening.

“Come on, guys,” Jack said, grinning from ear to ear. “Rules are rules.”

You glanced at Luke, who looked equally stunned. The room had gone silent, all eyes on the two of you. Your heart raced as you tried to think of a way out, but Jack’s smug expression made it clear there was no escape.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Luke murmured, his voice barely audible. His cheeks were tinged pink, and he couldn’t quite meet your gaze.

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, and suddenly, the fear melted away. Maybe this was the push you both needed.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

Slowly, Luke stepped closer. The world seemed to fade away as he cupped your cheek, his touch hesitant but gentle. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that left your heart soaring.

Cheers and whistles erupted around you, pulling you back to reality. You pulled away, your face burning, but the smile on Luke’s face made it all worth it.

“About time,” Jack muttered, earning a shove from Quinn.

Luke laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I, uh, was meaning to tell you something,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling bolder now.

“Maybe we can talk after this?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I’d like that.”

And as the party continued, the tension that had once held you and Luke back melted away, leaving only the promise of something new, something wonderful, waiting to unfold.

Later in the evening, you found yourself on the back porch, bundled up in a cozy sweater and holding a cup of hot cocoa. The stars glittered above, their light reflecting off the blanket of snow. Luke joined you, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hey,” he said softly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Needed some fresh air?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s been… a lot tonight.”

Luke chuckled. “Tell me about it. Jack’s not going to let us live this down.”

You laughed along with him, feeling the tension melt away once more. For a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, the crisp winter air wrapping around you both.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luke finally said, his voice hesitant but steady. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

Your heart fluttered. “Me too,” you replied, turning to face him.

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. And I didn’t know how to say it, but… tonight felt like the right time.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, brighter than the chill in the air. “I like you too, Luke. I… I’ve been scared to say anything, but I’m glad you did.”

A wide grin broke across his face, and he stepped closer. “So… what happens now?”

You smiled, your cheeks rosy from more than just the cold. “I guess we see where this goes. Together.”

Luke reached out, taking your hand in his. “I like the sound of that.”

As the two of you stood there, hand in hand under the twinkling stars, the night felt magical—like the start of something truly special.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi would u be interested in writing something about Azriel being really soft with his mate and the IC find it cute but funny to see the scary spymaster acting like a love sick puppy?

Only you my girl

Azriel was known for being as quiet as the night. For being as cold as the deepest winter. To read him was nearly impossible. He was an observer. He collected information even when others thought there was nothing important to pinpoint at that exact moment. He sat in silence. He nodded when others talked, occasionally though. Said a word or two if the situation asked for it. But for the time, his presence in family gatherings was hazy. A true shadow this man was.

And then you came into his life. At first, his secretive nature had blossomed even more. Azriel got even quieter. Even more hard to read. The day he brought you over had been rather awkward. You were his lover - that's what was stated. Yet he sat there as if you weren't right beside him. While Cassian held Nesta close. Rhys's hands were resting on Feyre's. Azriel just couldn't and you knew it. This was new. He didn't know how. He wasn't sure if this was part of him. This vulnerable part of him could be shown.

It started slow. Azriel's hand-wound lingers on your thigh beneath the table. You didn't acknowledge it at first. Because Azriel and touch was like kid and medicine. The moment you point out the inevitable existence of one and another you get a negative correlation that leads to absolute opposite outcomes.

So you let him squeeze your thigh in peace. Then came the little rubs and him reaching for your hand. His chair would be scotched closer to yours. And so the little thing unfolded. You were glad that others never brought it up either. You knew how much they cared for the shadowsinger. Cassian had made it real clear that he didn't usually fight women but that if you were to hurt Azriel he would not be responsible for his actions to which you had nodded. They all had watched the spymaster suffering alone for long enough. Everyone was happy to get fed the crumbs of his open affection. Smiling tenderly when they were lucky to catch a glimpse of it.

But then came the trouble in the camps. The boys were barely home. At one point they had been away for more than a couple of days. That had broken something in Azriel though. It was the first time he had been away for a longer period of time. He was the last to come through the door. Barely dragged his feet. Tight frown on his face. Gears in his head turned so loudly it was hard to not hear it. You pushed off the wall. Moving past the other two couples lost in their conversation.

"Hey, big boy", you muttered, stepping closer, hands reaching to clasp Azriel's palms. "I hate it when you call me that", Azriel said flatly. Yet his mind had staggered for just a moment. "Right, forgot you preferred sugar plum more", you teased him, leaning against his chest more. That made a slight chuckle slip past Azriel's lips. Even if he rolled his eyes at your nicknames Azriel enjoyed them immensely, since no one had even cared enough to give him a loving nickname before.

The spymaster looked down at your much smaller frame. Hands still intertwined. The fact that he could hear your heartbeat so clearly calmed him down. Settled his demons. "Missed you", he muttered quietly, moving his hand to cup your cheek. "I missed you so much as well. The bed was so cold without you", you hummed, pressing your cheek deeper into his palm. Loving the feeling of his rougher skin. Azriel couldn't help but smile at your words, "That's the only thing you missed?", he teased. You gasped, shaking your head, "You horny...", "Oh, who said I was implying sex, I just meant my looks and charm", Azriel sassed, his words followed by a snort across the room.

Both of you instantly turned your gazes. Azriel's arms tightened against your body as you found four sets of eyes watching you. "Look at you joking around, huh", Cassian beamed, "Now we can tease him for being badly in love", Rhys added causing the rest of the family to chuckle. You bit your lip as you felt Azriel lower his head to your shoulder. "Leave my baby alone", you said, hand now combing through Azriel's tangled curls. "Oh, a baby", Cassian made baby sounds, whining till Nesta hit his chest.

"You never learned to play nice, huh?", you said to Cassian, but before the lord of bloodshed could answer you felt cold mist starting to swirl around you as Azriel winnowed with you still in his arms. "Tell me to eat his bacon in the morning", Azriel grumbled, bringing you even closer to him. Now more than ever I need to feel you in his arms. You chuckled, "I'll help you with that", you stated before wrapping yourself around your mate's frame.

[blossombriefs]

Noodles | A Goku OneShot

Authors Note: I'd write something short and sweet while I'm on a creative high! Drop a like and a follow if you like what you're reading! I'm gonna be posting around 2/3 times a week! I'd also love to follow back other writers :3 Update: MY MASTERLIST IS NOW PINNED TO MY PAGE! Summary: You meet Goku for a blind date after being set up by a friend Content: Goku x reader, SFW, cute, gender neutral reader Word Count: 908 Words

You were ecstatic that your friend Android 18 had set you up on a date with one of her friends. It had honestly been a while since your last date and you loved everything you had heard about her friend Goku. You dressed yourself up in your cutest outfit as you left the house with a bounce in your step. The sun hung rather low in the sky which casted a warm glow over the city as you navigated your way through the crowded streets. You sometimes find it overwhelming with the amount of people around you but your head was preoccupied about your date, the man you were meeting and where this might then take you.

As you approached your meeting point, you spotted Goku standing with a hand firmly against his waist. You could see him looking around for you, dressed in his iconic orange gi which made him easily recognisable as you got closer. He stood tall, his stature was muscular and his head housed thick, black spikes. Once he had clocked your approach, he waved with a friendly smile which assisted a wave of nervous excitement to rush through you.

"Hi! Are you Goku?" you smile toward him sweetly, trying to hide the flutter in your stomach.

Goku's face lit up with a wide grin, "Yeah! Nice to meet you! You must be Y/N? 18 told me all about you!"

As the two of you exchanged pleasantries you took a moment to admire the man in front of you. His friendly, goofy, and easygoing nature was helping to put you right at ease. You guys had decided on dining at a local ramen shop, Goku held the door open for you as you both entered. The first thing to greet you both was the chime of a light bell followed by the savoury aroma of the fresh, simmering broth. You could've sworn Goku was ready to levitate towards the scent. Your stomach growled in anticipation of your meal.

Settling in at a corner booth, you took in the cosy and warming atmosphere. The restaurant wasn't busy but there were still a few patrons sitting around, none necessarily close to you which allowed for a bit more privacy. The walls were a warm brown, decorated with beautiful hand-painted art, and the ceilings were dotted with soft overhead lights that complemented the wooden tables and chairs. Goku eagerly gripped a menu, his eyes widening at the selection of ramen that the restaurant had to offer. The waiting staff approached the table and you could tell his curiosity was getting the better of him as he smiled, "We should try a little bit of everything!"

Your eyes sparkled looking across the table to your date as you nodded your head in agreement, "That sounds perfect to me!"

You engaged in some small talk, his bright personality really drew you in. He shared some stories of the recent adventures he'd shared with his friends and his intense training sessions. You nodded along enthusiastically as you told him about yourself too. It wasn't long until you were greeted by the first bowl, Goku's eyes gleaming in pure delight. You looked up at him from across the table, blushing embarrassingly as you attempted to pick up your chopsticks.

"I uh," you started, fumbling the sticks between your fingers. "I actually don't really know how these work. I'm so used to using a fork."

Responding with a smile and a gentle pat at the wooden bench beside him, he signaled with his head that he wanted to show you the ropes. "Let me help you out, c'mon!"

Just like Goku you were also up for a challenge. You perched yourself beside him as he gently took your hand in his, positioning the chopsticks in your hand as he moved your fingers to the right place. As you ate together you could feel yourself fumbling them but it would lead to shared giggles between the two of you. Gradually the waiters brought out the rest of your feast. Noodles upon noodles, sushi platters, dumplings and much more traditional Japanese cuisine. Each one you enjoyed together, even if Goku ate significantly more of the food than you could let yourself indulge in. Between each bite he couldn't help but look up at you with a smile, "This was such a good idea. I'm so glad we came here!"

You beamed to him in response, "I'm glad we did too Goku! It's been a lovely day so far."

The evening slowly unfolded under the shared laughter you had over the warm bowls of broth, vegetables and noodles. You could feel a genuine connection with him. You bonded over so much and the way he made you laugh was unlike anyone really had before.

When you both left the restaurant the streetlights illuminated the now darkened city and the streets were much more tame, most people had already headed home by this point in the night. Goku rubbed the back of his neck, smiling down to you, "This was really fun! I haven't had that much fun in such a long time!"

"Me too Goku! Thank you," you say with a shuffle of your feet and a blush. He sighed happily as he carefully took your hand in his, the same hand he helped your chopsticks into.

"So how can I contact you? You know... for the second date? If you're interested that is..."

[madameaug]

One of Your Girls: KTH x Black Reader

Pairing: Actor Taehyung x Friend zoned Black Reader

Reader is delusional (like most of us), kinda feel bad, down horrendous, love sick for sure. Kinda mopey tone

I never could have imagined myself being a The Weekend girl. A girl who was so desperate for male attention that she convinced herself that being a side-chick was okay. Uttering that stupid phrase "he knows where home is." I actively laughed and made fun of those girls. Side chicks who believed that they would one day become the wife. That the man who was dragging her along would come to his senses. That she had something special and would motivate him to change his dirty dog ways. Ha! What fools.

Yet there was a voice that didn't belong to me , reciprocating that belly-aching laugh.

Look at you in madly in love with a man who sees you as nothing more than a friend.

Even though no one was pointing that finger at me the embarrassment was swallowing me up whole. Yet again here I laid in the California King bed, alone, hoping he would still be here with me. That after he tucked me into bed, that he would be curled up beside me. I wouldn't dare allow myself to hope that maybe in our mutual intoxication, we shared this bed in a more intimate sense. That I finally escaped the isolating box of friendship. Removing the burn of being called his friend, but rather yet just his.

"Ms. Yn? Are you awake?" Judah Tae's assistant spoke on the other side of the door. Huh, I guess he knew about me staying the night. I wasn't a total fool to know that Judah coming to wake me up, was a clear sign from Tae that my window of being a guest was rapidly closing. He was too much of a coward to address me head-on and politely kick me out. So he tasked that to either his softspoken Judah or his rough-around-edges security guard Binky. At this point I would have preferred Binky to wake me up.

"I'm up, Judah." I picked up my belongings that were scattered across the ground. Nothing too serious but a bright red corset top and a slinky black maxi skirt.

"Your phone and purse are on the dining table, and your Uber is outside. No need to rush out, take your time."

Judah added that last sentence to cushion the blow that I was again getting the discreet dismissal from his boss. I was the pitiful girl who couldn't get the hint. Or perhaps refused to get the hint.

I sat in front of the vanity mirror, getting myself together. Yes, I was a bit prideful. Even though I was on the edge of another anti-climatic emotional breakdown, I'll be damned if I showed it. If fake it til I make it was a person, it would be me.

Drunk me in all her right mind, was smart enough to remove the layers of makeup on my face. They weren't smeared across Taehyung's satin pillow sheets. Sheets I like to think he got for me, to protect my natural hair. I just like to think that he's thinking of me.

Catching my eye were two photo frames. The larger one contained Taehyung and his castmates of Hwarang. He was the youngest and his older castmates had bunny ears behind his head. Even though it was hard to see as Taehyung was dressed in a traditional hanbok. His perfect smile on display, his big ears poking out lateral to the black head strap. He looked like a kid in the candy store. Smiling cheek to cheek, that he actually looked like his six year old self.

Should I truly feel shame for allowing myself to fall in love with a man like him. A man who was kind, interested in the things I liked, was single, intelligent, and had a passion within his career. I wouldn't be exaggerating for saying that Kim Taehyung was one of a kind. It would be hard to find another like him. No. There is no one like him. I was already lucky to be in his space as a friend. Someone who he didn't have to worry about betraying him to the gossip-hungry tabloids, airing out his dirty laundry for the world to sift through and mock. I was honored to be his number one confidant, his best friend. But I won't lie to my heart and say I wish we were something more.

I wish I met his grandmother, the most important woman of his life under the guise of lover. That he posted my face on social media holidays like National Girlfriend Day. I wish that I had an initial in his bio, showing that he was taken.

But instead, I was reminded of the reason why none of my wishes would come true. His true love was currently occupying that space. The female co-star that he was currently the lead with. She was a beautiful ray of sunshine inside and out. Everything about her was pretty. Her skin was clear and smooth, not an imperfection is sight. She had a youthful look to her, easily being mistaken as Taehyung's junior despite her being older than him. Even her name translated to 'pretty' in both her native language and Korean. I didn't need intense calculations to understand why Taehyung was in love with her. If I was a male, hell I'd probably be in love with her too.

Which is why it hurt the most seeing the two lovebirds hug each other so lovingly. Her smile was turning into rambunctious teasing. Bragging that she won this little onsided game between us. That she was the victor in this drawn-out battle for Taehyung's attention and affection.

That I YN YLN was a loser. That I earned second place. Nah. That wouldn't stand for much longer. Kim Taehyung was in love with me. A seedling somewhere in that big heart of his was reserved for me. His girlfriend was the overcast, preventing my little seed from growing. Two can play this game. And rest assured, that this time I would be victorious.

Muah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!!!!

(just jokes- i don't support homewrecking <3)

[canmom]

booksbooksbooks{2} - a convoluted excuse to drive the choo-choo train

I have the good fortune to live very near a library that reopened a few months ago, which means: more books!

The Black Locomotive by Rian Hughes was one such book that I saw on the shelves and decided to read like old times - no recs, no familiar authors, just rolling the dice on a book that looked kinda interesting. Paging through it, it looks kind of wildly ambitious, each chapter alternating with tables of materials that make up the built environment and architectural plans and varied, experimental typography. As a work of Design(tm), I certainly can't fault this book.

And indeed, as I got going reading this book, introduced to a beleagured Crossrail engineer who stumbles across what is blatantly a big old alien artefact and a buildingfucker artist whoo is constantly going on huge long meandering meditations on the nature of architecture infrastructure in his POV chapters, I was pretty intrigued. It seemed like it would be going somewhere really quite interesting.

However.

The actual story that all this is in service to is an elaborately contrived scenario in which a group of train-obsessed men who joined a train club as kids must coordinate a nation-wide conspiracy of message board users to drive an old steam train cross-country from the 'strategic steam reserve' of decommissioned steam trains under Box Hill into London... in order to open a locked door. Because the aliens created a field which disables all modern electronics you see, so they can't just blow it up or something.

You see: the artist, Rutherford, went into the alien spaceship that lies underneath London and formed the sort of psychic seed that the city grew around. And closed the door behind him. And they only found one key. And they need to get in and stop Rutherford before he does any unwise alien shit. Hence the whole train thing.

So crossrail engineer Austin teams up with his old schoolmates and users of the 'Smokebox Club' forums to crack the nut with a steam train, coordinated using a phone app, which tells everyone exactly where to go and how to move the points to direct the train to the right destination.

So far this is all a bit silly but like. It's a fun idea, and an interesting way to play with railway-fan conspiracy theories and so on. What really soured me on this book, if I'm honest, was the ending.

Once this is accomplished - of course it's accomplished, you don't set up a premise like that and have them fail - our co-protagonist Austin finally gets to confront Rutherford. And doesn't do anything. He just kind of backs down and goes along with it as Rutherford flies central London into space to get involved in a space war or something. Literally this whole entire plot, which gives the novel its title, which takes up the entire second half of the novel, goes absolutely nowhere.

At that point the house of cards kind of came down for me. Rather than fun and provocative, all the interstitial panels and schematics felt rather superfluous. For all its grounded descriptions of Crossrail engineering and typographic inventiveness in the presentation, the actual scifi premise was all pretty standard space opera stuff.

You might notice a lot of parallels in this description to Seth Dickinson's novel Exordia, which I loved. Both novels transition from their characters encountering the manifestation of a terrifying alien artefact to a mad dash supported by the efforts of people across the country/world to get the protagonists where they need to go in a last-ditch effort and, not to get too deep into the Exordia spoilers, both subvert that direction. Both books invoke a subject that can be quite dry and academic - moral philosophy, architecture - and make it the heart of a dramatic scifi story.

And while there are many differences that led to me liking Exordia more than The Black Locomotive (Exordia is a lot darker and richer in its imagery, it's a lot more international in its outlook, women actually do shit in it, etc.), the biggest one for me is that Exordia had actual structural and thematic payoff. What Anna does at the end of the Exordia, while it betrays the triumphant arc that seemed to be in motion, is still interesting - horribly so, it's the crux of it all. What Austin does at the end, by contrast, is nothing! He might as well not have done any of it.

The whole book drives (literally) towards a confrontation, yet Austin and Rutherford barely have enough time to set up any sort of adversarial dynamic (they both find the idea at worst mildly annoying). There are some parallels between them - both are deeply lonely men, we are reminded often, men who subsume their inability to participate in heterosexuality into their work and just kind of numb themselves to it. So Rutherford is sort of vaguely interested in people in the abstract, but mostly in terms of how they form part of the city, which is his real love. Austin is your classic engineer guy.

The other thing that left me cold with The Black Locomotive is the concept of the Smokebox Club. It felt something like a plot tumour - a cute idea that somehow grew to subsume the whole book. Hughes is clearly very proud of this: he's come up with a logo for it, a theme tune with multiple remixes, fake magazine covers, and a whole bunch of lore about its secretive workings. And like, listen, I've been in the Infrastructure Club slack, I've been on forums, I know how train nerds be.

Where this truly broke down for me is the series of brief POV chapters in which people get messages from a phone app they vaguely remember which tell them to go to a nearby rail and move the points, and somehow this all goes off without a hitch. Each POV character gets their own font - for example, an old man escapes from his nursing home, and one guy is a thief/gang leader called 'Ice Prophet' ('real name Yousef Evans') whose section is delivered in a handwritten font, but he finds a sudden spark of prosociality when he hears the Smokebox ringtone and recalls his dad (yes this chapter is kind of painfully written). i.e. people from all walks of life come out to help the train on its way, isn't that wonderful? Hurrah for steam trains, every boy wants to drive a train don'tchaknow.

I can definitely enjoy a 'people from across the land come out to support the big project' plotline. Sure, all of Japan's electricity must go into the rifle to blow up the angel! It's incredibly silly, and often softly nationalistic, yet it can be very emotionally compelling.

But.

The narration is pretty explicit here: the app shows detailed pictures and the MCs have a UI indicating which points on the line have been checked. And normally, in fiction, you might overlook questions like 'so who coded this app' and 'why does it have this functionality'. But this book is literally all about infrastructure. How and why things are built, the way architecture shapes our lives and grows like an organism, this is all stuff we've spent chapters and chapters meditating on. So it's a lot harder to ignore!

Over the course of the latter half of the book, the Smokebox Club grows from a train forum to an elaborate secret society which commands supranational loyalty from its members. Surprise: Austin's boss Georgia Ash is the Chief Engineer! One of her predecessors was probably Winston Churchill.

And like, OK, it's all a bit of fun. But it really undercuts the setup of the rest of the book, all the grounded effort to tie it to real places and engineering projects and British history and politics, to fold everything back up around an oddly culty train enthusiast forum.

Overall, then, The Black Locomotive disappointed. I looked up Rian Hughes after reading - it turns out he's a prolific typography designer, graphic designer and illustrator, as well as working frequently in comics, who's recently turned his hand to writing novels (his previous being XX). Which probably goes a long way to explaining this: all the stuff he's got decades of experience in is what's strong in this book. But the actual scifi novel aspect is fairly underbaked.

Science fiction and fantasy authors do, for some reason, really love London. There are so many books directly or indirectly about the nature of this city (and often its secret spiritual underworld) from authors like China Mieville or Neil Gaiman, as if London is the paradigmatic city, which all other cities somehow echo. I do feel like it's a bit played out at this point. Like in this book, if London's unique complexity is because it was seeded by a reality-warping alien spaceship that was cultivating the complex society it needs to replace its pilot and get back into space... what of like, literally every other big city, just as steeped in history?

I guess if I mostly read novels in French, I'd probably end up saying the same things about Paris...

[writingbyshiloh]

Hi Shiloh ☺️

Everytime I get to type a message/request for you I smile like an idiot.But anyways can I request prompt 2 for Red

Please and Thank You in advance love❤️

ANYTHING FOR YOU SORAYA!!!! Request any Reddington content u wish!!!! Tagged all the Reddington fans at the bottom

CW: Flying, Pilot!Reader. All pilot references/knowledge is from Google so may not be accurate. Not beted. It took me almost 3 hours to write this so I lost all motivation to edit.

Prompt: 2. Giving them a shoulder message when they won’t leave whatever they’re working on

You kept looking at the digital clock in the cockpit. For flights longer than 10 hours, Dembe steps in to give you a break. You had 8 hours on then Dembe would cover you for 4 hours before you took over the final four hours of the flight. You were alert the whole time you were in the pilot seat, able to shower and sleep once on land in whatever destination Reddington wanted. Dembe got to keep his flight skills sharp. 

“Go on break.” A soft vogue cuts through your thoughts. You nod, shifting in your seat to stand and stretch, filling Dembe in on any important notes during your time in the air so far. 

“How is he?” you didn't need to specify who you were talking about. It is only the three of you on board. 

“Stressed.” 

You nod in understanding before going to the cabin of the jet. On break you try to nap, stretch out your limbs, and watch some TV if time permitted. Another chunk of your time is filled with Reddington asking you about what you watching and listening to you in earnest. Sometimes lightheartedly poking holes in the plot or pointing out the setups for plot twists. 

You place your hands on the back of the seats keeping your balance as you make your way to the small couch. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Reddingtons deep voice caught your attention before you reached your destination. 

“Hey!” You moved a bit quicker down the seats.

“How are the skies?” 

You place your hand on the back of his seat, trying to sneak a peak from the windows, met with more gray. The table in front of him is covered with pieces of paper, pens, a phone, and a drink, while his suit jacket was on the chair across the aisle. 

“Cloudy, but better weather when we land.” 

Trying to get more of a view from the windows, you move your hand further on the seat in front of you landing on Reddington's shoulder. 

You expect him to freeze or gently remove your hand. What you don't expect is for him to lean into your touch, head tipped back on the seat, eyes closed. 

Now standing fully behind his set, you adjust your hands to get a better grip on his shoulder. Thumbs pressed deep into his upper shoulders before moving closer to his neck, and back again. You didn't really know what you were doing, basing your moves on his responses rather than any actual knowledge. 

The jet was comfortable, but if he was hunched over a table for eight hours you could understand the pain. 

“You may have chosen the wrong career.” He says voice soft. You try not to laugh. 

“I’m sure I’m a better pilot than a masseuse.” 

His head was tipped back to look at you.

“Are you saying I’m naturally gifted at giving massages, or I’m an awful pilot?” you tease. 

“The former. Although there was that one landing, in Switzerland?” 

You remove your hands from his shoulders. 

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

(Dm to be added or removed), @soraya-daydreamsreams, @horrorqueen22, @wild-rose-35, @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek, @zombieskullxz, @rhepworth, @fanficismydrug, @navs-bhat, ( @btsjiminsthings, @emilynissangtr these r the people who liked the post about the tag list but didn't officially comment! just dm if you wish to be removed!!)

[hekate1308]

There Was Winter’s Cold A Destiel Advent Calendar December 15

Masterpost

Dean had done his best to prepare Cas, although naturally, he was rather a little confused as to why he thought that was necessary to begin with.

“But Dean, from what I understand, human families are close, and they think we are friends, so they should be happy, should they not?”

He decided not to feel hurt at the They think we are friends because really, it didn’t matter, did it? And really, Cas wasn’t human, so why should he think they were? Just because Dean got too easily distracted with anyone who needed his help, and more than that, was ready to do whatever was needed to get people back on their feet… didn’t mean they were friends, and Cas was right to point that out.

“Yes, well, but they’ll still be worried because someone they don’t know is staying with me. That’s part of being a family, too” he said, trying to convey what he had never been able to put into words.

Cas studied him, tilting his head to the side yet again before nodding. “I understand. But surely, it won’t be too difficult? They will realize that I am no danger to you or your possessions” Cas had understood the concept of stranger danger after watching TV with him, but didn’t seem to quite get that it wasn’t as simple as telling people that everything was fine, don’t worry.

Matter of fact, Dean could imagine it now. “Hey Ellen, Bobby, anyway, this is Cas, a water wraith I happen to have a crush on… has powers over water, and is pretty clueless when it comes to people but he’s pretty decent, I promise.”

Yeah, he did not see that ending well.

But one evening? Surely they could manage that. Cas might come across as a little bit strange, but really, who wasn’t?

“Alright, so this is how it is. Crash course.”

“But why would we want to crash –“

“Figure of speech” he said hastily. “Look, you know about Sam, and Bobby and Ellen are something like – well – our parents. They took us in when our father died. Our mother had already passed away when we were small, and things after that were… difficult. So they were – they – well, they did everything for us, and I can’t be thankful enough. Sammy certainly wouldn’t have gone to Stanford and I wouldn’t have become a mechanic – you’ve got to study for that, too, well, not at college, but –“

“Dean, I am aware that you had to have learned a great deal. Cars are complicated, that’s what mechanics do, isn’t it?”

Again, television was probably not the best teacher he could have found, but still…

“Yes, yes, and anyway, I’m good at it, and it’s fun. Plus whenever there’s a problem with my Baby, I can fix it.”

Cas just smiled at him in a way that did some very funny things to his insides, so he ignored it because he could deal with that later.

Granted it was probably not the healthiest way of doing things but what choice did he have?

It was just a shorts drive that evening, but Cas looked as fascinated as he had the last time they had left the house.

Dean had told him to leave the inductions to him, which really was for the best. He just had to hope that Cas would be able to jump in and work with it, although – well –

But then again, he had already told Ellen that he was just helping him out, and he knew they had good hearts, so…

He didn’t knock, of course but used his key. Would have Eben told off for anything else.

“In the kitchen!” Ellen called out and he mumbled, “lose the trench coat” only to find that Cas was already taking it off. Well at least he was used to that from Dean’s home.

Bobby was sitting at the table. Of course, as usual when Ellen decided a proper meal was in order, meaning she would be the one to cook it.

He immediately got up, studying Cas, and Dean said a quick prayer of thanks that Jo was off to college too. Didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if she was home.

“Bobby, Ellen, this is Cas.”

As it turned out, he had underestimated Cas.

“Mr. and Mrs. Singer. Dean told me a lot about you. It’s an honour.”

They immediately perked up at that, and Dean made a note to perhaps not show anyone he wanted to introduce some old-fashioned movies beforehand.

Really, maybe this would not be so bad –

“Sit down. And then tell us a little bit about yourself.”

On the other hand, maybe not.

He was about to intervene when Cas sat down, looked earnestly at Bobby and began, “I have every reason to be thankful to Dean. My family has abandoned me, and he has been helping me out.”

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 1 Thoughts

I finally managed to sit myself down and read the first chapter for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group!

So I have actually decided on dual-reading each chapter. As I have a physical copy of Anthony C. Yu’s translation I read that one first, though afterwards I looked at the J.F. Jenner translation as well, which ultimately made me come to the decision of reading both versions each chapter. While Anthony C. Yu's version has more definitive detail, J.F. Jenner's is just easier to understand. It is very much a sense of I kind of got it the first read including the major points, but I really connected some additional dots with the second.

Additionally I'll be listening to the Audio Drama Series on YouTube by @jttwaudiodrama, the chapters that are available so far anyway, which honestly might be my personal favourite already. I adore that they use the Mandarin names at least once when they come up for the first time and they use the original measurements and such! It was so weird reading "36 feet and 5 inches", partially because I use the metric system, meanwhile “3 Zhang 6 Chi and 5 Cun” felt far more natural to hear. The Production Notes for each chapter are great too!

Now onto some of the thoughts that came up in my mind while reading!

“It’s free real estate.” When the monkeys were moving into Shuilian Cave that’s what immediately entered my mind.

Also something I found interesting is that the stone mansion was abandoned seemingly in a somewhat hasty manner? At least that’s how it came across to me with it not being completely clean, but there still being leftovers on the table. That or the previous owner didn’t care much for keeping things orderly, it could be either really.

Very much love the anti-grindset vibes when Sun Wukong sees how focused on fortune and fame humans are always striving for more. They are practically working themselves to death without ever stopping to just live in the moment for a while and are never satisfied with what they have either. One ought to think if you are already a prime minister as mentioned in the poem you have more than enough wealth to live comfortably.

One could argue that since they believe in reincarnation, which might even be a confirmed fact there, they might think they will be able to relax in another life. However when would that life come around then, if they just continue with this work ethic lifetime after lifetime? If they simply want their children to have a comfortable life, why would they be perpetuating this mindset actively preventing them from having one?

Then you have the woodcutter as the exception to the rule, who doesn't have much, but is still rather content outside of genuinely valid concerns regarding getting enough food on the table.

This whole issue being brought up so early in the book already puts it in a very good light. Looking forward to the story's further exploration of these topics!

Rounding out with something sweet, one of the animals Sun Wukong befriends in the Anthony C. Yu translation is a civet, which I didn’t know what it was, so I looked it up. They are so adorable! Just look at their big ol’ eyes and cute little snoot! Precious!

This is an Asian Palm Civet specifically, which I guess might be the kind he could have met. Something I read on African Civets specifically, which I assume goes for other kinds of civets as well to some extend at least, is that they are not felines which one might guess at first glance. They are more closely related to weasels or mongooses instead!

[kat-is-laem-oa]

Chapter 4: Velvet Couches and Demon Summoning

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

From afar, an assailant slashed a man down the back, resulting in his tumble to the warehouse floor. Valentine had found the lair.

“Oh, God! Valentine found Magnus!” Clary yelled. She ran forward behind the group and Eljah stayed behind her. He was sure now that she was new to the shadow world. It was uncommon to learn about your angelic lineage this late in life, but if Eljah could exist, then Clary could be a late bloomer.

Clary and Eljah fell back from the group naturally, hiding behind metal horizontal poles at the sound of a child in distress. She was shaking her deceased warlock father, telling him to wake up.

Eljah stopped dead in his tracks.

“Papá! Papá!” echoed in his head. “Papá, por favor, despierta. ¡Tengo miedo, se acercan las sombras! Papá, te amo, despierta y mantente fuerte, ¡no puedo hacerlo!” The shadows. The shadows are coming. Wake up and stand strong. I can’t do it.

Clary found her confidence creeping forward, but something else was creeping in the shadows as well. As she yelled, "Watch out!” and marched forward to defend the little girl, Eljah turned to face the growing black void from the corner. His heart thumped hard enough it shook his body, but he still couldn’t move. The girl was safe thanks to Clary pushing away one of Valentine’s men, Eljah useless as a trance state took over. The fight echoed in the background.

“Clary Fairchild. Valentine will be so pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you!”

“Any time.”

“Eljah, what happened?”

“Eljah?”

“Just keep moving,” Eljah harshly responded, stumbling up and away from his spot. He held the metal previously behind him so hard it was indented and, wiping his hands, shook off tiny bits of its coating.

Isabelle wrapped her whip up, sure to investigate later when she had time. “Stick close. It’s safest if we stay together.”

Clary affirmed to the young warlock that she wouldn’t leave her alone. It soured Eljah’s mood more. How he wished he had someone like that growing up. When things got bad, he could only turn to himself… and maybe the street cats and dogs.

The entire group convened in Magnus’ now-destroyed living room. The velvet chairs and dark furniture tipped over or split in half. Said room had filled with splayed warlock bodies, and Jace respectfully closed their eyes one by one. Alec had come across Eljah taking a breather and the two walked in together, the last of everyone living.

Magnus was busy praising Clary for her bravery and heart and Eljah slid himself between some fallen furniture. He flexed his fingers, popping them again as an unconscious comfort technique.

Magnus stepped to the middle of the room, announcing, “Hold tight, everyone. We’re about to move.” He made eye contact with Eljah for the first time since crossing paths again. He looked concerned at the younger man's body language, nodding for permission to move ahead. Eljah took a deep breath and conceded.

This time, Magnus’ magic glowed blue. He moved them in the prettiest way Eljah had seen a warlock move whilst using magic. Eljah was straight to the point, but Magnus had flair just like his closet. The energy pulsated and then passed over every corner of the room, transporting them.

“Ah, much better.” Magnus sounded relieved, but after turning around, his face changed to disgust. “Ugh! It’s inevitable. After each move, I get the itch to redecorate.” He turned to Alec and Eljah, who were next to each other, pointedly telling them, “normally, I love a dirty lair, but this one is just sloppy,” emphasizing with a stomp to the broken table in front of him. Alec’s expression turned confused and slightly worried, while Eljah found amusement in the situation. Alec abandoned station and crossed the room as if he wasn’t attracted to Magnus.

Magnus moved on rather quickly. “I believe in payment for services rendered. Thank you for defending the warlocks.” He sweetly offered the necklace they’d returned earlier, telling Isabelle some of the history of their own family and the jewelry. He joked it would look silly on her brother and Alec physically reacted, telling Eljah these were siblings. Lightwoods, to be exact.

Eljah felt a twinge of jealousy at the obvious flirting, but especially at Magnus asking if Alec was more into flowers or cologne. Eljah’s answer, personally, would have been flowers.

He couldn’t tell who he wanted to be more…

“Okay, so how do we summon the memory demon?” Clary redirected. Eljah brushed off his butt, regretting it when he realized he brushed dirt onto freshly clean flooring, checking to see if Magnus noticed.

“Are you certain?” Magnus confirmed. “Summoning such a powerful demon could be lethal.”

“I’ll do anything to save my mother. Where is the demon?” Clary doubled down.

“Okay. Pretty boys! Get your team ready!” pointing in Jace and Alec’s general direction.

Jace spoke up, “you all know what to do.” But Magnus stopped him in his place.

“Alec, yes… but I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to you,” he pointed to both Eljah and Alec. Alec got real cheesy at that revelation and Eljah got shy. If the others could see his aura, it was consumed by a teal color that screamed “shy.”

Magnus beckoned Clary forward, saying, “come with me.”

—

Magnus led Clary off into a side room, and the others stayed outside. Eljah continued popping various parts of his body, stretching like a cat.

“Where are you from?” The voice of Alec startled Eljah, which made the taller man put his hands up in surrender, mumbling sorry.

“I’m from San Juan.”

“San Juan? Puerto Rico, wow,” awkward silence made an appearance, “uh, what institute did you train at?”

“Mexico City. It was the closest.”

“Was it… pretty?” Alec, for such a big and tough-looking guy, was incredibly awkward and shy. He cutely smiled, his energy gray with muddy, dark purple. Further proof of his anxiety.

“It was one of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. Overlooked the city and you could see everything. Tomas, the… previous head of the Institute,” he paused as he remembered his late father-figure, “used to take me to visit the city markets. I miss it a lot,” Eljah admitted.

“Why’d you leave?” Eljah felt like a Seelie out of water, tempted to shrug his shoulders despite knowing Alec is smarter than that.

“Shadowhunters, gather!” Magnus summoned. Relief flowed through Eljah, secured from extra questioning.

Magnus, in more comfortable albeit still flamboyant clothing, headed the group upon entry, but remained to acknowledge Eljah with an arm around his shoulders. The height difference made Eljah shrink, but he couldn’t deny physical touch and affection was rare for him. Especially from such an attractive group of people.

“Jocelyn was right, your artistry is beyond compare,” walking himself and Eljah next to Clary. She chuckled but denied the claims. Eljah, despite knowing summoning circles, always enjoyed the deep-rooted artistic nature of them, which the redhead tuned into with a rune activation. Although he was sure she was a natural either way.

“Oh, the only other person I’ve known who could draw as well was Michelangelo… who was excellent in bed, might I add?” Looking straight at Alec. Eljah could’ve howled at the shared reactions, familiar with some historical figures himself and their… deeds.

Upon viewing this specific circle, he realized everyone had a spot except for him. Magnus caught on quickly. “Don’t worry, little dove. You are my extra protection—you can stand by me, okay?” Everyone shuffled to their places, Eljah awkward behind Magnus.

“Okay, we’re ready.” Rolling up his sleeves, he told everyone to, “take your rightful place on the pentagram.” Eljah choked back a giggle at Clary’s confusion on where to step, considering it was a foot in front of her.

“We must initiate a bond. Once this bond is sealed, it cannot be broken until the demon retreats.” Magnus became more serious. “No matter what happens, we must not let go of each other’s hands.” He outreached his jewelry-clad hand to Alec. The two jolted as a low, booming sound built the connection.

One by one, the group magnetized together with wistful looks and gasps. Eljah could feel the shadows reach its oily hand up from deep within the Earth, the energy building and suffocating the air. He constantly wanted to turn around, senses on high alert for the incoming danger.

“I will lead the ceremony, and you all must do exactly as I say. The demon’s name is Valak. And at some point, he will ask for payment in exchange for Clary’s memories.”

This worried Jace, who asked, “what do you mean? What kind of payment?”

“Unfortunately, you won’t know until he is summoned,” Eljah responded. “Just keep your hands together and take a deep breath.” After a beat of confirmation between everyone, Magnus announced they’d begin.

He strongly chanted in Chthonian, summoning Valak. Everyone looked panicked, Eljah included.

“The necklace!” Izzy called out, “it’s pulsing.” A rush of wind came through soon after, everyone looking up as thick black shadows came down upon the room. Valak growled and Eljah watched the group struggle to hold on.

“Valak is among us! Do not break the bond!” Magnus reminded. Jace called out to Clary to hold on, who affirmed she was trying. While Magnus focused ahead of him, Eljah activated the luck rune on his chest. He circled the group, making sure the lines were strong and nothing had been ruined.

“We must each relinquish a beloved memory of the one we love the most,” Magnus rushed through the hectic noise. Isabelle naturally went first. An image of her brother appeared within the smoke before harshly dispersing. Clary and Alec followed, but when Alec’s memory surfaced, his emotions shifted.

Panic. Eljah saw straight panic. He couldn’t understand why the Parabatais were confused. Parabatais often, if not always, love each other, but Alec was shouting betrayal and deception into the wind.

“It’s not true! The demon deceived me!”

“Do not break the bond!” Magnus warned.

“Alec, It’s okay!” Isabelle insisted. But the damage was done, and Alec ripped his hands away, throwing himself back. Chaos erupted as the others shouted. The black smoke dispersed and everything in the room was thrown back. Eljah, instead of rocketing into the wall, smoothly slid across the floor.

Valak’s wrath was unmatched by their fear as they saw him in full. The wind became more like a tornado and the air was scarcely fresh.

“I cannot contain the demon much longer!” Eljah felt the same level of panic as the others, uncertain whether he should assist Magnus and risk exposing himself or try to kill the greater demon.

Alec dumbly stood and made his way in front of the demon. Jace sought to push him out of the way, but in doing so, offered himself up to the demon’s grip. Clary screamed in shock and Alec huddled in the corner.

It felt like too long had passed before someone grabbed onto Jace.

“Grab him!”

“The demon is growing stronger!”

“He’s slipping!”

“Clary, Eljah, help us!” The man ran to Magnus’ side, concealed by the veil of smoke from the others, and snapped his fingers like a match. It lit up the fiery red and purple radiance of Eljah’s magic and he took a deep breath, expelling air as he pushed with all his energy to contain Valak. Keeping up his opposing facades wasn’t worth the release of a greater demon in New York.

“Clary! If you kill the demon, your memories will be lost forever!” With the last call for help by Isabelle, Clary bravely stomped her way up to Valak with her seraph blade in hand, impaling the demon still grasping Jace.

Eljah fell next to Magnus, and the others rushed to check on their blonde shadowhunter. Magnus gently raised Eljah from the ground. “It’s alright,” he whispered, “Shadowhunter business usually ends like this.” Eljah was too tired to laugh.

“Is he gonna be alright!?” Clary cried out.

“I don’t know. Does he normally just lay like that without moving?”

No one else was laughing.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[morg-among-the-stars]

Concepts of Gender - vulnerable long winded-rambling

I remember watching my dad spit out his tobacco when I was little, and he taught me how to spit, too. My mom wasn’t too happy about that: spitting is what boys do

I’ve always liked playing with my boy dolls rather than the girls. It was fun to fling Ken around or throw him off things. Boys were durable and it was okay if they got scuffed up. Whenever I got scuffed up— scrapped my knees or fell off something— I was called tough. Boys were tough, but I was a happy, tough little girl

As a kid, I understood that I was a girl. That I’d get older and marry a man (I’m laughing as I write that, trust me) and be a homemaker. An inevitable fate that my life was slowly inching toward. Not necessarily something I cared about, more or less something I just had to accept would happen to me

I was supposed to be friends with girls, but I got along with boys better. They were tough and durable and so was I. But I still liked chatting with the girls every once in a while (which would end in some kind of teasing, more often than not)

In middle school, things started growing and changing: “blossoming into womanhood” wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. I had teachers explain during sex ed about how when you’re a young girl, you start to look at your guy friends differently. That… I did not understand. I’d had crushes on boys by then, but the idea of being fully in love with one made no sense. I liked playing with boys at recess or making crude jokes to each other. But the idea of holding hands with one was outright weird

One guy friend of mine was near and dear to me, and he pointed out the changes I was dealing with. I leaned across the table at lunch one time, and he pointed it out to me that I had cleavage. I didn’t care, but he did. He was uncomfortable, so I had to be, too. By the nature of puberty, I gained natural weight. That of which I also had to be uncomfortable about, thanks to him

He pointed it out to me that I wasn’t desirable, that I wasn’t like the other girls. I didn’t care, but I apparently had to

I became hyper-aware of how I was perceived for a long time

In high school, I made the long-time-coming discovery that I liked girls and that brought me peace

I had a stupid, too short Dutch boy haircut and wore big shirts and jackets. One girl asked me very point-blank, “What’s your gender?” and while I know now, years later, that she most likely meant no harm (the equivalent to, "What are your pronouns?"), that comment struck me

I was livid and I didn’t understand why. I can see her point of view now: baggy clothes, short hair, not too high but not too low-sounding voice… I can see how she was confused. But I spat back at her, “What do you think?”

And she didn’t answer

I knew I didn’t want to be perceived as a boy and I knew I was supposed to solidly be a girl. But the lack of answer sent me down some kind of spiral

Not a full identity crisis, but something close to it

Ironically, I openly dismissed the idea of being non-binary back then. I dismissed that entirely, for anyone. I was a prick who thought I was smarter for sticking to a binary

I clearly wasn’t smarter than anyone, but I took my anger and spat it outward

Anger at myself, at anyone who perceived me

My mom yelled at me for getting my hair cut so short (which was purely an accident; I didn't know how to tell the hair stylist to quit being so handsy with the scissors) and told me to quit trying to confuse people

I was angry and, I guess, confusing. I was confused myself, and I confused the people around me

But who wants to spend their life angry? I surely didn't

With time and educating myself, I opened myself up to the idea that I might be non-binary toward the middle of my senior year of high school. Without warning or reason, she/her pronouns started to feel… itchy. Not debilitatingly uncomfortable, but a small and nagging thing that I couldn’t avoid, like a faint itch

I explained that to one of my favorite teachers, that it felt like an itchy tag in a shirt and she was the first person to use they/them pronouns for me. I can’t thank her enough, still can’t even now

There wasn’t any judgment. I was met with, “If trying this out will help you, then I want to help you.” And that’s what I needed

A weight was lifted when I first heard that being used for me. It felt like peace

For as hard as I pushed it away and tried to sit still inside such a rigid box, I was far outside that box to begin with

I should've seen that coming, too

But I didn't and that's okay. I couldn't have predicted the future

I told a few close friends, some accepted it while others shrugged it off. I had an ex who was also non-binary but shoved me in the "girl" box and forced gender roles and ideas onto me. I couldn't hold a place of power or speak my mind. I just had to listen and go along with whatever they said

For a moment (a matter of about a month), I thought of changing my name. I was between "River" (honoring the character from The Politician who, still to this day, is one of the most Me characters I have come across) and "Clark" (Ironically pre-dating the Superman fixation, I liked the ease of one-syllable names and the sound of it). Ultimately, I decided, and still decide now, that "Morgan" is what fits me, and maybe my parents did something right with giving their kids gender-neutral names

I used to (or maybe had to) care so much, but now I am just me. I'm fortunate and incredibly grateful for my partner @strawberryfemmesapphic who supports me in my being Me-ness. She was the first person to try out more masculine compliments for me (which I learned I liked a lot, with feminine compliments, too). We joke that I'm a Boy (no gender/gender roles implied) and that feels good to me.

I'm allowed and able to hold space for little tough, tomboy Morgan and for the softer sides of me, too, without sorting that into boxes

I'm just Me, at this stage in my life, as I am

[brooklynislandgirl]

15. Do you have any piercings?

A Will and A Way || -

For a moment she thinks she has to have misheard Cisco. Not because what he said came across as though he'd been gargling mouth-wash with his lips pressed together while he was underwater. No, rather than the Charlie Brown Teacher sound effects, every word is clear and sharp and absolutely his voice in her ears though he's a respectable distance ~the other side of the table~ from her. Such an unexpected question and heard in a way she's unused to manages to scrunch her face in confusion. First, Cisco is never really comfortable talking about things like that. Idle discourse while they're working ranges the gamut of favourite video games, worst comic adaptations on streaming services, the nature of scientific advancement and the ethics they are bound in. Whenever she teases him about anything personal or untoward he tends to deflect with shyness and humour and in a lot of ways it feels like she's torturing him for no real reason. Second, she can't begin to understand why exactly he was asking. Was he considering getting his own piercings? Is he seeing someone and he needs to get some advice about how to work his way around them? Which brings up a more important question which is why he hadn't mentioned he'd met someone? Since when had she been out of the loop and how had she missed something so huge? "Uh." Ah yes, the eloquence of her intellect. Any day now, they're going to come along and confiscate her S*T *A*R Lab ID card and send her packing. Exactly what the Admiral would expect and would use at his pleasure to flay her alive. She keys in one more sequence before she slides out of her chair and comes around to Cisco's side of the table. This is a show-and-tell matter. She turns her head to the left so he can see her ear plain as day, and the four total she has there. "Lobe, and upper lobe," she says, pointing to the two lowest and most natural looking ones. Today, there's a crescent moon with a jewelled star in the lobe, an actual diamond solitaire in the upper. "Tragus" This is the opal stud in the bit of the ear attached to her upper cheek. Then she touches the silver ring and ball on the upper outer rim of her ear. "Helix." Then she shifts and offers him her right profile and the three there. The bar is the first one she points out. "Industrial." A matching solitaire diamond in the upper lobe, then a sort of tribal faux ruby in the lobe. "Bu wait, dere's more," she winks. She never takes her eyes off his face as she reaches down and unbuttons her jeans from first to last, and shimmies the denim down low enough that he gets a decent view of black lace against her skin. Three little aquamarine studs draw the eye to her narrow hip bone. "Sub-dermal implant. Dis one I got talked into when I was small kine tipsy." John had told her it was for protection. He'd held her head and whispered into her ear until the very last thing she was thinking about was someone cutting into her flesh and implanting metal into her body. If she was honest with herself, she's pretty sure John could have talked her into anything that night, and all the ones that came after before he disappeared from her life. But Cisco doesn't need to know that. To cover the sudden change in her expression, she turns around, back to him, and raises her shirt up a little. "An' I always keep small kine of home with me wherevah I go. Dis is symbolic of my aumakua, my islands, an' dere beauty." She doesn't mention or show him the other tattoos. They haven't gotten quite that close. "Now I'ma beatcha t' da punch an' say… no I don' got nipple piercings or ones…ah… down dere. I don' see da appeal, an' hand f' God, as a medical doctor, havin' dem can actually cause you to eventually lose sensitivity in dose places. So if ya considerin' piecings on ya… bits… my advice is…yeah, naw, brah."

[captainmartinisblog]

Crossing the International Date Line!

Thursday 20th February 2025 Again - At Sea (Not Pago Pago Either!)

Ever wanted to re-live a day of your life? Well, this is how to do it! Having gone to bed last night (Thursday), we awoke to discover that it was Thursday morning again! During the night, we crossed the International Date Line which passes directly between Western Samoa and American Samoa.

Well actually, we crossed the line yesterday afternoon but that’s the ‘flexible’ nature of things I guess. I Let me explain….

Here is a view of the Earth looking down on the North Pole, the sun illuminating the day-side, Europe and the Mediterranean at the top (upside down) and the Pacific at the bottom.

The Earth revolves clockwise once every 24 hours, so as you go around the globe, the time of day varies by 1 hour for every 15 degrees ie 360 degrees in 24 hours; in the diagram, the UK is at the top in the red box and it’s mid-day while we are at the bottom in the Pacific, 12 hours ahead at midnight on Thursday.

As you can see, while on one side of the Date Line it’s midnight Thursday, it’s still only first thing on Thursday morning just across the Date Line. So as we crossed the Date Line going anti-clockwise, we moved to a point where it was still only early morning on the same day, Thursday. Got it? Of course, if we had gone the other way across the Date Line, we would have lost a day, rather than than gained one!

Strictly speaking, in astronomical terms, the Date Line should be the 180 degree line (the vertical yellow line on the map above) but of course it isn’t as simple as that! Matters are made more complicated by various countries with islands spread across both sides of the 180 degree line who have chosen (usually for convenience) to be in single rather than multiple time zones which is why, for instance, the International Date Line takes a weird route all around Kiribati - pronounced “Kiribass” by the way! Still, I hope this has shed some light on the matter of the International Date Line.

Anyway, back to today – or yesterday, whatever! It was another grey start, with more rain, the decks closed and the ship rattling along at 17 knots.

Sadly, aside from a movie being shown in the Theatre at 10am, there wasn’t much in the daily programme – unless you count the ‘Fireside Chat with Ray Bailey’ (the dreadful ‘destinations speaker’) and ‘Axe-throwing in the Atrium’! No, they’re not real axes; it’s just a variation on ‘chuck a bean-bag’!

So here are a few photos around the ship I don’t think I’ve already posted.

The Atrium – for ‘axe-throwing’ amongst other things! Impressive but running 9 decks high through the ship, it’s a giddying space and the criss-crossing nature of the stairways can leave you feeling you’re in one of those optical illusion drawings with staircases leading nowhere!

The Library, off the atrium; a nice space with even more book-cases than shown here and a wide choice of books to read. With all these days at sea with no landfall, one might have need of it!

Café Connections, another space off the atrium and just outside the upper level of the theatre. 24hr self service tea and coffee plus changing light nibbles throughout the day. Quiet here, first thing in the morning but after 10am, it’s hard to find a seat.

Setting up ‘camp’ after breakfast in the Horizon Lounge with our books etc, it comes to something when the ‘Dancersize with Marta’ class at 9.15am gets new members on Day 11 of a 15 day cruise!

The good news from Captain ‘Stan’ is that we should be leaving the bad weather behind us and arriving at our next destination, Bora Bora, on Saturday 22nd instead of Sunday 23rd. And the good news from our splendid butler Nikkhil is that he has been able to get us a table for dinner in Prime 7 tonight!

[esreal]

"I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me."

" I KNOW I CAN'T STOP YOU, BUT. . . " Ezreal's hand comes up awkwardly, scratching at an itch behind the nape of his neck that doesn't even exist.

Ionia's never boring whenever he gets the chance to visit. Sure, if he had to pick a favorite, the dangerous sands and the gold encased bounties he'd find in Shurima might still take the cake. Point is, though, that the endless nature, the magic humming in the air like an electric current of Ionia is a close second. This is the first time he's found himself within Bahrl province, territory to the Order of the Shadow -- & much to his pleasant surprise? Not unwelcoming.

Ezreal's gotten too used to booby traps laid & mercenaries sent for the sole purpose of dissuading nosy individuals with sticky fingers. Y'know, such as himself. To have a group welcome you, provide a place to rest & eat & even train with the acolytes just your age. . . To have one of those said acolytes become so close, days spent joint solely to the hip -- he wonders if the masters took notice, if the shift in behavior & welcoming to an outsider meant anything.

Is there ethics to this sort of thing? -- Ezreal's never really stopped to think.

& such, he's spent more time here than he expected. A three-day long expedition into Bahrl turns into just over a week, yet he has not even gathered any of the materials that he'd came for in the first place. His uncle will be worried sick -- not to mention upset to learn he hadn't recovered any relics, weaponry from the Noxian invasion long since past. Ugh, he can already imagine the lecture he'll receive.

His gauntlet rests upon the table, the quiet of the Order & the trust for the acolyte in front of him evident. Both of his hands cup the mug of tea in front of him, kneeling upon the mat. Kayn's gaze feels oppressive, a challenge that he's incapable of meeting & has a better chance of winning against the tea leaves beneath him.

Let it be known - it's not like the explorer hadn't given the idea some thought. Kayn's formidable with every weapon he'd ever touched, the promise to keep himself wouldn't be empty. He's got the bruises & occasional scars now to prove that. ( Psh, but since when has he ever needed that? ) & his loyalty is fierce enough to know that through any mission thrown at them, there's nobody who he'd rather have watch his back.

This is a solo show, though -- there's glory in this for Ezreal. Just like the Order should be Kayn's.

" Shouldn't you stay here? " Weight shifts in his kneeling position, his bag already packed: full canteen, check - dirty clothes, check - new partner that is making it so much harder to make his great escape? Not check. Not check at all. On the contrary, said partner's intent on making this the hardest to leave a place that it's ever been. "It doesn't make sense to take you away from your home for, like, who knows how long! " A shrug, desperation in his voice to sell the reasons for his rejection. Unknowingly, perhaps he's just making a stronger case for the other.

With that, he stands. In a fluid motion, practiced across too many locations to count despite his youth, he uses one hand to grab the strap of his pack. It hoists upwards, before sliding it across the other arm until it rests upon Ezreal's shoulder.

" Don't get me wrong, Kayn, " inhale, followed by turning towards the exit. Ezreal offers a glance over his shoulder & the best grin he can offer, given everything.

" It's been fun! "

@umbane | prompt.

[perplexedflower]

Debito Fluff Alphabet - [Q]uirk

Fandom: La storia della Arcana Famiglia.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Debito x Female Reader.

Type: Fluff Alphabet.

Q) Quirk: Something he has that is beneficial to the relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~

While certain individuals possess a handful of specific traits and quirks that may come in handy in a romantic relationship with someone else, this isn't entirely the case for Debito: due to his rather unique and eccentric nature, it's his entire personality as a whole that helps to contribute to his relationship with you. He's known to be quite unpredictable at times and is considered by many, including yourself as a wild card, especially within the friend group you form with the other division heads in the Family. You know that this side of him is sometimes frowned upon by some, mainly because it can get him in trouble, but also because these people simply don't appreciate much being around a loose cannon such as him, never knowing what he might be about to say or do. But when it comes to you, unlike these people, you've never found this trait of his as annoying or bothersome in any way: if anything, you actually like it. Maybe this is only a point of view that can be applied to you, given you're in a relationship with him, but you think of Debito's unpredictability as beneficial. Thanks to it, your couple never falls into a boring, repetitive routine that would bore you over time, and it's instead spiced up with various, unprompted changes from time to time, which pleases both you and Debito. Obviously, he doesn't overdo it, not wanting to drown you under too much irregularity and inconsistency. But he brings into the relationship just enough of them to keep the two of you busy, to keep you entertained; a part of you suspects that this may be the manifestation of one of his insecurities, that he makes sure you won't leave him any time soon by ensuring that you remain satisfied in the relationship and that you won't ever go look elsewhere for more adventure. And even if this instinct of yours is right, he would never admit it. But he's got nothing to fear: you're not going anywhere.

Mini Scene

Standing in front of Felicità's office, I knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

I opened the door halfway and peeked my head into the room.

"Good afternoon, Felicità." I greeted her with a smile. "You wouldn't happen to have come across Debito at any point this morning, would you?"

"Oh, no, I haven't. Have you tried his bedroom?"

"Well, we took a nap in his room earlier this morning, but when I woke up he wasn't next to me anymore. I wonder where he's gone off to, and I don't even know for how long he left before I opened my eyes..."

"Oh, I see." Felicità said with a nod. "I'm sorry I can't be of any help..."

"Don't worry, it's okay. Thank you anyway."

I closed the door, letting Felicità to her paperwork, and exhaled a deep breath.

"This is gonna take a while..." I whispered to myself before I walked off.

It was no surprise I had lost Debito, this was something that happened every now and then; he would disappear, without leaving a trace, and most of the time, without informing anyone of where he was going.

And so, I repeated my exchange with Felicità with the others as I searched the manor, running into Libertà, Nova, and Dante. But none had seen him.

Defeated, I headed to the kitchen in hopes of asking Luca. But when I opened the door to the dining room, I was met with an unexpected sight: the table had been arranged for two people, two sets of silverware placed in front of each other. And as I stepped deeper into the room, the door closed on its own behind me, startling me into a jump. Before I could turn around, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, an invisible pair of arms that appeared out of thin air.

"Debito?"

"Surprise, amore." He softly spoke against my cheek before kissing it. "I thought I'd invite you to lunch here in the manor since we always eat out. I had Luca help me out with the food, of course."

I gazed at the neatly set table with a smile as he held me tighter in his embrace and leaned even closer to me.

"So, Bambina, hungry?"