#He is losing all these deals that he’s not even part of

[hatsbuckets]

Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...

Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.

Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.

But he is hungry.

His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.

Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.

He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.

"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.

"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.

Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.

Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.

And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.

Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.

Blue powder erupts into his face.

Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.

Soap's team wins. Barely.

When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.

He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.

"What 'appened?"

"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.

Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"

One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.

He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.

The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.

Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."

And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.

...

The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.

They run the same drill.

Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.

No blue powder today.

Gaz’s team wins.

Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.

...

By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.

One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.

They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.

Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.

...

They're sent on a mission. High stakes.

They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.

At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.

The men take them without question. They earned it.

But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.

...

At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.

But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.

...

Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.

Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.

Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.

He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.

At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.

And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.

He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.

The pattern continues.

And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.

Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.

...

At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.

The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.

They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.

Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.

But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.

Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.

Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.

And they keep earning them.

They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)

...

And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.

Something is off.

The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.

Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.

But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.

Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.

And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.

Price squints. Frowns.

Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.

The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.

Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”

[darkmarkmarauder]

Call me and I’ll come - S.S.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x you

You should have known better by now.

Should’ve known that getting your feelings hurt was just part of the deal when it came to Sebastian Sallow.

Because he never promised you anything, did he? He never said he was yours, never whispered I love you when his hands were all over you, hot against your skin, when he fucked you like he actually meant it.

Sebastian Sallow was not a good person.

That was fine, though, because neither were you.

Whatever this was between you—this thing—that was built on the kind of pleasure that left bruises and bite marks and bad decisions. It was never meant to be sweet. Never meant to be kind.

And yet, there he was. Playing at chivalry, walking Poppy Sweeting back to her dorm like she was something to be protected. Like she hadn’t spent the past seven years getting under your skin, all sunshine smiles and Holier Than Thou bullshit.

You weren’t sure why you even followed them. Maybe it was the way Poppy's laugh rang through the corridor, soft and sweet, like she wasn’t the most insufferable person on the planet. Maybe it was the way Sebastian looked at her—really looked at her—as if she were saying something worth listening to. The thought made your stomach churn. You had him first. Had him beneath you, above you, inside you. You should’ve been the only thing occupying that wicked little mind of his.

But no. He was escorting her back to her fucking Hufflepuff common room like some noble gentleman. Heart-of-gold-ass-bitch. God, you hated her.

So you had a little fun.

Just a little.

Legilimency was easy when your target was oblivious. You slipped into her mind without so much as a whisper, poking at her thoughts, nudging her attention away from whatever painfully dull story she was telling him. Watching her stumble through sentences, lose her train of thought, look almost dizzy with confusion. Sebastian’s brows furrowed as she trailed off mid-sentence, blinking rapidly.

“You alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. That made your teeth grind. So concerned for little Miss Perfect.

Poppy nodded quickly, but she was uneasy now. You could feel her nerves, the confusion settling deep. You kept at it—poking, prying, twisting little intrusive thoughts through the cracks of her consciousness.

Poppy winced, pressing a hand to her temple. “I… I don’t know. I just feel a little—”

You rolled your eyes. Pathetic. You got bored of that real quick. Whispering under your breath you sent a nauseating little hex and she was doubled over, face paling, gagging.

Sebastian stepped back, startled. “Poppy?”

“Uh, I think—I think I need to go lie down,” she groaned, turning away hastily.

You strolled up behind Sebastian just as Poppy stumbled off, pouting mockingly. "Aw, hope she feels better."

You barely kept the smirk off your face as Poppy disappeared into her common room, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. Whatever. She’d be fine. Maybe next time, she’d learn not to bat her pretty little lashes at your Sebastian.

Not that he was yours.

Sebastian turned to you the moment she disappeared, a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. His lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes were anything but.

"Yeah, okay, princess, we’re really gonna pretend?"

You folded your arms, feigning innocence. "Not sure what you mean, Sallow."

"Cut the shit," he scoffed, stepping closer, the scent of fresh pine, something unmistakably him filling the space between you. "The second she started looking like she might kneel over, I knew you were up to something. And then—what? you just coincidentally show up the moment she leaves? Please."

You rolled your eyes. "Please," you mimicked, voice dripping with mockery. "What, am I not allowed to take a little evening stroll?"

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Right. Because you, of all people, just love late-night walks around the Hufflepuff dorms. Admit it, you’re jealous."

That word. Jealous. You bristled at it, anger flashing hot through your veins.

"Of what, exactly?" You sneered. "Little Miss I-Save-Orphaned-Dragons? Please. You think I’m worried about you wasting your time with a boring little goody-two-shoes like her?"

His jaw tensed, and fuck, you loved getting under his skin.

"You’re so full of shit," he muttered, voice dropping an octave. "What was it? You didn’t like seeing me with her? Didn’t like the thought of me walking her back? Maybe—" he took another step closer, and you refused to move back, even as your breath caught in your throat— "maybe you didn’t like knowing she actually enjoys my company without having to spread her legs first."

The words hit like a slap. You felt them crack through your ribs, shatter through your lungs. But you weren’t about to let him see it.

"Wow," you let out a sharp laugh, masking the ache blooming in your chest. "That’s rich, coming from the guy who can’t seem to keep his hands off me."

Sebastian tilted his head, brown eyes dark and unreadable. "Yeah?" he mused, his tone almost taunting. "Maybe I should try. Since it’s not like you’re anything special."

You sucked in a sharp breath.

"Fuck you," you spat.

Sebastian smirked, slow and lazy, his words venomous. "You already did. And if I recall, you come crawling back every single time."

Your vision blurred red. Your nails dug into your palms, the sting barely grounding you. You wanted to hex him. Wanted to make him hurt the way his words made your chest feel like it was caving in.

But instead, you took a step back.

"Go fuck yourself, Sallow."

And then you turned on your heel walking away, fists clenched, heart pounding, body burning with fury and something you weren’t ready to name. Jealousy.

Behind you, Sebastian let out a sharp exhale.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, voice laced with something that almost sounded like regret.

You were drunk when you called him.

Drunk and pissed off and reckless.

You’d heard about it from Imelda—how Sebastian had actually taken Poppy on a date, how he’d sat with her at The Three Broomsticks, bought her a drink, showed her a good time. How they sat together at dinner.

You refused to look at him for the rest of the day. You ignored him in class, in the halls, in the library. You ignored him even when he tried to get your attention, knocking his knee against yours under the desk, whispering your name when the professor wasn’t looking. You ignored him all the way up until tonight.

Right up until the moment you floo-called him from your room.

The moment he picked up, his voice came through the flames, exasperated but familiar. “What do you want?”

“Come over.” You softly demanded.

He sighed. “I’m busy.”

You leaned in, let your voice drop lower, silkier. “Didn’t ask if you were busy, Sallow. I said come over.”

A pause. He wasn’t even pretending to think about it—the sound of him moving, the clink of his belt as he got dressed . “Give me ten.”

You grinned.

Of course he’d come. He always did.

It didn’t matter how much he flirted with Poppy, how much he tried to pretend there was something there. It didn’t matter if she was sweet and kind and everything you weren’t.

Because at the end of the day, when you called—he answered.

Always.

Not even a minute later, there he was, disheveled, eyes swirling with something that looked like relief. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened like he had rushed here.

You smirked. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re such a fucking piece of work, you know that?”

You didn't bother responding as his dark eyes bore into yours. Tilting your head slightly, biting your lip before yanking him inside, fingers wrapped around this tie as the door slammed shut behind him.

Yeah. Poppy Sweeting didn't stand a fucking chance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: raw, next question.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[solspina]

We Should Stick Together (2)

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

hello! remember this that i wrote like 3 months ago? flooding my inbox worked, and i gift you all the part 2 that you harassed me for (affectionate). i hope you enjoy, and please feel free to drop more writing ideas in my inbox if you have them!! i have work in 6 hours so i am very sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes :)

as the race to the imperial palace comes to an abrupt end, sanguinius confronts his greatest fear, and finally discovers whether this is a battle he wins or loses to his perfect phoenician brother.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: n/a

(part 1)

Sanguinius turned back, ensuring that Fulgrim had become a mere speck in the distance, even to the sharp and trained eyes of the avian mutant.

Five minutes… He had five minutes at most before the Phoenician stormed into the imperial palace and attempted to track down the woman he knew was his brother’s desired bride. Although much slower than the angel, Fulgrim was still a primarch, and therefore incomprehensibly faster on foot than the average human. The duo had only ventured about three miles away from the palace to begin with, and though Sanguinius could cover that distance in half the time his brother could, he still worried for the little time he had.

The angel landed rather clumsily, his feet failing to obtain a proper stance on the floor before his wings had folded in upon his back. He stumbled, unable to catch himself before his clothes and feathers were covered in the dusts of holy Terra just as his hands had been.

In flight, his appearance had become quite disheveled, and was now accompanied by the filth of the ground. His hair had become frizzy from the abuse upon it by the wind, and his loose feathers stood on his wings in a way that made them rather itchy. He would deal with that later. No time to lose right now.

His stagger to his feet was near immediate. One moment of hesitation meant one moment Fulgrim would inch closer to the imperial place.

Sanguinius was most concerned with finding her before the phonecian ever even got the opportunity, but the thought that he had not prepared a speech lingered in the back of his head like a quickly spreading disease. The great angel was and always had been an artist of impeccable detail, a poet of unimaginably beautiful words, a man who spoke to inspire the masses. And yet despite all of this, so was his brother, whom no doubt had much more time to prepare for the exact upcoming moment.

Pale white wings trembled ever so slightly at the thought, yet they caused the angel to more hastily sprint through every room that a baseline could possibly hide in. What if, even if he had been here first, Fulgrim’s speech was more captivating and practiced? What if she cared more about the display and grandeur than the intentions of her suitor? Did she know that Fulgrim had been married before? That he would have infinitely more experience when it was time to bed he-

Not the time to think about that.

Sanguinius turned another corner as he searched for the person he so desired, but again he found nothing. Thus began his endless chase of navigating this imperial labyrinth. He turned another, and another, and another, and another, until he finally found himself gazing into one of the imperial palace's many greenhouses.

There he saw his dearest beloved sitting elegantly by a pond filled with fish of many species. Greenery, a lovely assortment of flowers and, golden sunset light adorned her body in an impossibly perfect halo. The water that poured from the elaborate fountains complimented the melody in her voice like a song made only by nature's most beautiful things, meant to cleanse his very soul.

The scene would have been a dream if not made a nightmare by the pompous and flamboyant voice of Fulgrim, drowning out what should have been Sanguinius' idealized solace.

The Phoenician let out a pretentious laugh at something the baseline said, and the angel physically cringed at the way she placed her hands over her stomach to ease her own mirth. The sight should have been something glorious, enchanting to the eyes of the ninth. It had been so many times before, yet he only felt his blood begin to boil.

only I should make you laugh that way.

He did not know what emotion flooded his heart the most. Envy? Or perhaps sorrow? rage? resentment for his silver haired brother?

What he did know, however, was that he had lost.

Somewhere amongst an incredibly confusing concoction of emotions, the angel was beyond certain that a searing heartache was included in the most prevalent of them.

He may have been able to disguise his current visage as nervousness, were anyone of importance to ask why his mood had become morose. Social interaction with a passing custodian or serf had become the least of his worries. He did not care much, at this point, if someone saw him sulking in the doorway to the garden, grieving a baseline as if he had - for lack of a better comparison - lost his lover.

Not that a soul would come through to the conservatory anyway.

"Brother!" The palatine phoenix called. His voice was loud, deafening almost. High and mighty as ever, and calling upon all eyes that could see to face the angel in his horrent state of embarrassment. "Come! We have awaited your presence."

The smile of the third was hideously genuine. The stretch of his lips when his eyes met those of the human was so sweet it was sickening to Sanguinius - so much so that it sent a chill up his spine that caused his feathers to fluff and clatter against each other when he reacted to the sensation.

"We were just discussing you." The Phoenician beamed as the angel mournfully walked forward.

"Ah." Sanguinius replied. His cheerful personality had become lost somewhere deep in his chest, and what little of his voice he displayed had become somber and quiet. Quite truthfully, he was not in the mood for any type of social affair. He especially did not want to take part in the type of conversation that had likely already seen his would-be espouse become betrothed to his perfect, handsome, non-mutant brother.

"I was just about to ask this lovely baseline of ours a very important question~"

Oh?

About to?

Fulgrim hadn't asked yet?

The angel swore he saw the third wink at him before he started to begin speaking again. Something in those shiny violet eyes beckoned the angel as they stared deep into his ruby red gaze. An opportunity, he thought, a wordless promise. - "ask her now. last chance."

Before the phoenix could fall gracefully onto one knee, the golden primarch hastily plucked the red-diamond ring - a gem color choice Sanguinius found ironic - and fell to both knees. He firmly grabbed both of the human's small hands with his own and placed them gently to his forehead, unmistakably in a position of prayer.

"Please!" He cried. His voice rang almost in protest, if not for the tears forming in his eyes alongside the exasperation in his breath and the sobs in his voice. "Listen not to a word Fulgrim says! You should marry me! Me!" He paused, only to take one pathetic gasp of air and look up into her eyes.

"Brother..."

"You have not one idea how long I have waited, how hard I have worked to find the perfect gift! And now I am rushed! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sanguinius!" The phoenician shouted. "I was going to ask her if she had eaten yet today. So you could have done this over dinner."

The angel paused; his crying ceased. "What...?" Two crimson eyes both widened, and then dulled in embarrassment as he looked back up at the baseline. She looked at him in complete and utter stupor.

"W-wait. I can explain." He stuttered out.

She sighed in response, but followed the fading of her shock with a grin and gentle laugh.

Sanguinius did not know how he felt, regardless of her pleasant reaction. She gently removed her hands from his, taking her hand and wiping away tears from his pathetic, wet face. "Ask me again over dinner."

Her smile did not fade. Not even for a moment.

The ninth shared a sigh of his own, before giving a nod and a kind smile of his own in approval. He hoped he hadn't looked as bad as he thought, despite his disheveled hair, wings browned from terran dust, and now burning red cheeks.

"I will clean myself up, and do this properly." He promised. He bowed slightly to her, taking her hand and giving the back of it a soft and proper kiss. "Wear your nicest clothing. I will treat you to whatever you wish, as an apology."

"To tonight, then." She gracefully returned his bow. Her face was covered in a gentle blush of its own, her eyes just as upturned and full of joy as they had been earlier. Perhaps now even more so.

The angel turned to search for Fulgrim, hoping to give him a gaze that asked whether or not this was a good thing.

When his eyes finally found his brother, though, he was already making his way out of the greenhouse. Shaking his head and indulging in some giggles of his own.

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

@astrohymn @moodymisty @undeaddream

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(please comment to be added/removed from my taglist !!)

[maxdibert]

Have you got in mind some pros and cons for dating Lily, Severus and any of the Marauders since they all seem so interested in the dating topic?

This is interesting lol . Let's dive into it. I promise not to be too harsh and try to be objective:

Severus Snape:

Pros:

He will never cheat on you in your life. In fact, he probably won't look at anyone else for the rest of his life. If he loves you, it's just you, no one else.

He would probably kill for you, or make the world burn for you, or betray everyone for you, or generally do anything morally questionable for you.

He’s total "malewife" material and has zero fragile masculinity.

You’d have a potions master at home, so a huge part of your life would be sorted. Got a headache? He has a potion for that. Feeling sick? Also. Looking like shit and need something to make you look radiant? Count on it.

Cons:

He has a terrible temper and probably many depressive episodes, if you don’t know how to deal with that, you’ll probably dump him quickly.

Don’t expect him to talk about his problems or open up emotionally, because he’s basically incapable of managing his emotions maturely, so be prepared to hit a wall every time there’s a conflict.

Socially awkward, don’t expect him to attend any parties or social events willingly or interact with the neighbors—he finds that utterly disgusting, it’s just not his thing.

He’s slightly experienced, so if you try to lie to him, he’ll know, and that sucks because everyone deserves mental privacy, but considering he’s terribly insecure, we can’t rule out that he might do it just to avoid losing his mind over any doubt.

His way of confronting emotional problems is by not confronting them. He’s a master at avoidance with a terribly disorganized attachment style, so be prepared because he’s a textbook neurodivergent.

Lily Evans:

Pros:

She will get along great with your friends because she knows how to charm and socialize, so she’ll shine at any social event you take her to.

If you have kids, she won’t mind staying at home while you go out for beers with your buddies, so if you're a shitty parent or partner who doesn't understand the concept of task division, you're in luck because she’ll handle everything.

She’s a very skilled witch, so that’s great in case there's a dangerous situation and you're a bit useless.

She’ll forgive almost anything you do, unless you use dark magic, so you could, I don’t know, rob a bank, and as long as you didn’t use an unforgivable curse, she might let it slide.

Cons:

She’ll probably dump you if she thinks you’re no longer... let’s say... useful or beneficial in some way.

If you tell her about some serious issue, but it doesn’t affect any of her friends or people she likes, she might gaslight you massively about it, even if it’s about an attempted murder.

She tends to get along with shady people as long as those shady people benefit her, so be careful with her friendships.

She hates being contradicted on anything and will probably shut you up or make a huge scene if you dare to contradict her or tell her she's wrong or that something she thinks isn’t true.

James Potter:

Pros:

He’s rich.

You’ll never have to work again in your life because he’s rich.

Cons:

He thinks it's funny to strip people in public and suffocate them against their will.

He thinks it’s funny to hex people and cast forbidden spells just because it amuses him.

He thinks it’s a good idea to leave his pregnant or recently postpartum wife at home in the middle of a war while he goes and acts like a fool with his best friend.

You’ll have to put up with his best friend 24/7 in your house whether you want to or not, because they’re practically one person.

He probably won’t help at all with household chores, but hey, he brings the money and the house, right? That’s enough.

He’s the typical guy whose greatest achievements happened in his school years, and he’ll probably spend the next 50 years of his life talking about them because he’ll never do anything else worth mentioning.

His greatest interests are hanging out with his friends and sports, and hanging out with his friends and sports again. As you can see, he’s intellectually super interesting.

Any person with an average intellect would get bored of him after two months, but hey, if you give him a kid, you’ll have guaranteed alimony, so if that’s your goal, go ahead (this could also be a pro).

Sirius Black:

Pros:

You’re going to have some awesome parties. Seriously, he’s the best for going out, getting drunk, doing some lines, and having an amazing time.

Always up for adventures, so trips and getaways are guaranteed. If you’re into that, he’s perfect.

He’s rich, so there will never be a shortage of money for a luxury getaway or spending tons at a casino in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas.

He’d fight anyone who dared to bother you. Which isn’t very healthy, but there’s a positive side to it.

He might be an absolute jerk, but with the people he cares about, he’s a great guy, and if he loves you, he’ll be faithful and be there for everything.

Cons:

Mommy issues. Seriously, huge ones. He’ll constantly talk about how much he hated or hates his mother, literally 40 minutes of conversation about that every single day. “My mom this, my mom that.” It can get exhausting.

He feels so smug about leaving his extreme-right family, and he’ll remind you of it eighty times a day while at the same time laughing at people who can’t dress a certain way because they don’t have money or mistreating the staff because they served him something wrong.

He has an unresolved, codependent relationship with his best friend. He’s literally obsessed with him, and he’ll spend the day talking about him, and you’ll never know if he’s really with you or just with you because he can’t be with James.

Yeah, you’ll have a great time partying with him, but there will be plenty of times when he goes overboard, leaves you hanging, and you won’t hear from him for days because he’s a fucking irresponsible jerk.

He has the emotional maturity of a 15-year-old, so whenever you try to confront him maturely or have an adult conversation, he’ll get super defensive, and when he feels you’ve really gotten under his skin, he’ll hop on his bike and leave.

100% chance you’ll have to go get him out of jail more than once for some crazy thing he did.

You don’t have a boyfriend; you have a son

Remus Lupin:

Pros:

He’s quite nice and pleasant.

He’ll probably do anything you want as long as you don’t leave him, because he’s terrified of rejection.

He has more common sense than the rest of his friends.

You can have an interesting conversation with him, unlike his friends who only talk about sports and pretty annoying heteronormative stuff.

Cons:

The minute there’s a problem, he’ll run away.

He might leave you two hundred times and come back begging you two hundred times, emotionally blackmailing you into getting back with him.

He might get you pregnant and when you tell him, he’ll leave you.

He might just leave you in general, so you’ll never have a stable and healthy relationship for your mental health because you’ll always live with the fear that he’ll leave you.

He spends his days lamenting about how miserable he is and how badly life’s treating him, but he never tries to solve his problems and always blames his illness, not the fact that he’s a conformist who doesn’t look for solutions.

His friends can do the worst shit in the world, and he’ll never confront them.

You’re literally dating a coward.

Peter Pettigrew:

Pros:

He’s very nice, like Remus.

Always said hello.

Always kind to the neighbors.

Always bought you flowers and had little gestures for you.

He celebrated all your successes as if they were his own, your biggest fan and support in everything.

Cons:

He’s probably spent your entire relationship hiding bodies in the basement of your house.

[yearofthesnape]

Appendix: Grief or Guilt? Engaging with Lorrie Kim's Reading

@snapecentric first pointed out the similarities between my meta above and Lorrie Kim's reading of the same scene in her masterwork Snape (A Definitive Reading). Kim and I both argue that there is, in fact, more going on than Snape's dislike at being called a coward, citing the "long pause in the sentence" as evidence (Kim). We also refer to the panic of being inarticulately trapped in a catastrophic world (Kim, paraphrasing Hilary Kovar Justice). Both of us read the scene as Snape reacting to Dumbledore's death, not just James's. Both of us speak of Snape's pain communicated via Fang and of Snape's great isolation. After this, however, our interpretations begin to diverge.

Kim's work fleshes out aspects of the scene that my meta doesn't handle; for instance, she brings up Buckbeak's attack on Snape as evidence that Snape is so isolated that even the world of beasts is not a safe refuge for his emotions (a brilliant and heartwrenching point). Also, she reads Harry's words as Harry intending to reveal to Snape that he now knows Snape betrayed James. As far as Harry's concerned, I'm now inclined to agree and stand corrected; for Harry, the most impactful part of his statement probably is intended to be "like you killed him," as in primarily James (but partly Dumbledore), which causes fewer narrative complications about how Harry switched entirely from the topic of James in Snape's last line of dialogue.

I think, however, that Kim too readily assumes that Snape and Harry are on the same page. For Snape, the crux of Harry's statement is the moment Harry solidifies his similarity to Dumbledore — "Kill me, then," the same request Dumbledore made. Harry repeats it twice, cementing his role as Dumbledore in this situation, and by the second time around, I don't think Snape's emotional focus is on James at all.

Because I think that Snape is not dealing with James here (although Harry thinks he is), I can put forward a thesis that does not involve James: This scene is about Snape's grief. Kim does fleetingly bring up grief ("There is no time yet to grieve"), but she does not centralize that grief. Since she keeps James in Snape's mind, Kim promotes a thesis that more plausibly refers to James: This scene is about Snape's guilt.

I maintain, however, that looking at grief gives a more complete engagement with all aspects of this passage. Kim's reading provides no explanation for the adjectives inside the narrative pause. While my reading of "inhuman" could be seen as a stretch, I think "demented" does require an explanation at this point in our familiarity with Dementors — and if "demented" does, "inhuman" might not be so much of a stretch after all. Granted, Dementors likely prey on feelings of guilt as well as sadness, but the narrative has always presented Dementors as bringing up "the worst experiences of your life" (PoA ch. 10), not the worst things you did.

Guilt is certainly a pain-inducing emotion, and Kim ties Snape's emotions to Fang in this way; but if Fang is connected with guilt, we lose the connection to Fang's grief-motivated howling later in the same chapter, and I think the two instances are so close together that the connection is likely important. Reading Snape as primarily guilty here breaks off that connection, and it also jeopardizes the connection between the present scene and Snape's "DON'T!" in the Prince's Tale — the only other time in the series he shouts this word. In the Prince's Tale, also, Snape is described as sounding "like a wounded animal," a possible callback to Fang in the present scene. Yet Kim makes no comment, either in her reading of the Prince's Tale or this scene.

From a psychological perspective, also, I think it unlikely that Snape is feeling primarily guilty here. He had qualms about killing Dumbledore in the past, yes; but the Killing Curse requires certainty, and Snape delivered. He knows that what he did was at Dumbledore's (reiterated) request. He knows that Lily and James died despite his best efforts; he knows that endangering them had never been his intent. Snape does not seem the sort of person to shout "DON'T!" if what he means is "DON'T BRING UP MY GUILT!" — when faced with accusation, he generally responds to it in some way, even by denying it, rather than trying to get out of its existence. The "DON'T" scene in the Prince's Tale shows Dumbledore trying hard to make Snape's "DON'T" into guilt (an action-spurring emotion) rather than grief (an emotion to sit with), but we see that his "DON'T!" was provoked by Dumbledore describing Lily's eyes, and it is followed by "Gone... dead..." which seems far more grief-filled than guilty. Snape is not afraid to face and debate the possibility of his being guilty, but he is profoundly uncomfortable with the action-opposed emotion of grief. His "DON'T" here, I argue, means "DON'T MAKE ME REMEMBER HIM, I CAN'T STAND THE PAIN YET!"

If Snape is trying to keep Harry from bringing up his guilt, Kim herself states that this is clearly not something he can legitimately request in any circumstance, since he did do the things for which he is feeling guilty. It would be tantamount to saying, "Don't tell me the truth." Even if he were not a spy, then, he would have to reframe this statement to a more appropriate one, so he would end up still saying, "Don't call me coward." ("Don't call me coward" is also an indirect way of refuting his guilt; if he is sufficiently detached to give this indirect refutation, I would imagine him to also be sufficiently detached not to look inhuman at the very thought of his being guilty.)

If Snape is trying to keep Harry from making him experience grief-laden memories of Dumbledore, though, this would almost always be a legitimate request to make... just not here, not as a spy. Snape's cover as a spy is the only thing holding him back from saying what he means in this instance, which increases the stakes and the pathos of this scene.

To conclude, then, while Kim's explanation of Snape's reaction does more easily explain the presence of James in the conversation, I still think that grief, not guilt, best accounts for all the complexities at play.

Meta: "DON'T CALL ME COWARD!" as Grief Response

"Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward —" "DON'T —" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them — "CALL ME COWARD!" -HBP ch. 28

This scene is not, primarily, about Snape's dislike for being named a coward.

I'm not saying there's less going on than that very real and warranted dislike. Many excellent metas have been written about why Snape doesn't like being called a coward, and that does make sense; he has just performed a feat of moral courage, after all, and it has to hurt to have that attributed to cowardice. He has also just been provoked by Harry's trauma-triggering attempt to use Levicorpus — but, interestingly, that isn't what tips him over the edge into uppercase instability. Nor is it, I argue, the term "coward." McGonagall and Harry both call Snape a coward in their canonical last words to Snape, but Snape doesn't react this way to McGonagall. Nor did Snape absolutely lose it the first time Harry called him a coward in this scene. While there is a cumulative effect from the repeated insult, the extremeness of Snape's reaction gives one pause. The most obvious conclusion is that something else is going on. In this case, I argue, that "something" is Snape grieving.

Snape is not usually permitted to openly grieve, and this scene is no exception. He is a double agent; he cannot let it show that he misses "those whom he could not save." Therefore, we have to read between the lines, avoiding Snape's careful misdirection of his feelings into allowable ground (upset over an insult) and away from dangerous territory (grief over people he isn't supposed to care about).

The dialogue is also party to some misdirection. If you read only the dialogue in this scene and the preceding pages, you might assume that the "him" that Harry is talking about is Harry's father. This makes no sense, as Snape didn't kill James. The narration, on the other hand, explicitly sets up Harry in this scene to look exactly like Dumbledore before he died, making it clearer that both Harry and Snape are thinking of Dumbledore now, not James, despite Snape's attempts to keep the conversation on the (ironically) safer ground of James Potter. (Snape was the first one to bring up James in this interaction, and I think that's intentional.)

The narration is also pointing us to a bigger picture in its use of reporting and interrupting speech. Snape's paragraph splits what could have been a straightforward sentence ("DON'T CALL ME COWARD!") into two parts, with so much narration in between that we are invited to speculate on what Snape doesn't want Harry to do. The effect gives Snape a little pause, a breath, so that he probably says "DON'T — CALL ME COWARD!" That breath in the middle gives Snape a hairbreadth space to change his initial reaction to something appropriate to his cover. This is the closest we ever see Snape to blowing his cover, but (eminently capable as he is) he salvages it regardless, so thoroughly that many fans can't see past it either. I didn't, until recently.

But the narrative does. We'll see confirmed in The Prince's Tale in the next book that "DON'T" is Snape's automatic grief response; he cannot bear to hear his loved ones spoken of:

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?" "DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone... dead..."

In the HBP scene, Harry has just mentioned Dumbledore's death; Snape is being confronted by someone else about it for the first time. Furthermore, Snape knows at this point that Harry must die, and we know that being told that by Dumbledore agitated him deeply. So the parallels between Harry and Dumbledore here are even more heartbreaking for Snape. Snape is actually having to work towards Harry's death for the same reason he had to kill Dumbledore. In this scene, he has to watch Lily's son looking up at him with her eyes, looking up the way Dumbledore just did, and he has to hear that son yelling at him about how he must bury every last vestige of everyone he most loved, while that son simultaneously reminds him that the whole world, including Lily's closest representative, will hate him for it. No wonder he's reacting with "DON'T." I would too.

Even without knowing what "DON'T" means in Snape code, however, we have other narrative clues. Snape's face is described as:

demented

an unusual word, linked in the Harry Potter universe to the Dementors, who prey on despair. Being demented could just mean being deranged or unstable... or it could mean being the subject of a Dementor-like sadness so crushing it threatens to take your very soul.

inhuman

This adjective recalls a scene from OotP, another case of all-caps shouting, where Harry is torn up by grief for Sirius:

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —" "THEN — I — DON'T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. -OotP, ch. 37

Lastly, the HBP scene compares Snape's pain to that of Fang stuck in Hagrid's burning hut:

as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them

Dogs are symbolic of loyalty, and Snape really is in a similar situation, trapped in an utter catastrophe in which he is collateral damage for his loyalty (in his case, to Dumbledore). The next time Fang howls, at the end of this chapter, is in grief for Dumbledore's death, drawing the parallels still closer:

Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.

Unlike Fang, Snape is not allowed to express his true feelings. Even Dumbledore, the person who understood him most, redirects him to act and not lament, and Dumbledore is dead. A metaphorical tie to a nonhuman character who is able to grieve later is as close as Snape gets. He cannot go to the funeral, just as he could not for Lily; he cannot talk to anyone; he will later be confronted with a horrifying specter of Dumbledore at Grimmauld Place. In light of all this, when Snape gives Harry the memory of himself crying over Lily's letter, it's not just him giving Harry back the correspondence. It's Snape reclaiming: I, too, grieve.

[barleyo]

Girlfailure.

Older BF! Toji X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i hate toji sm, why did i write this :( anyways, to any of you who like this sick fucker, i hope this does him justice

Tags: pwp/some plot, age gap, cunnilingus, fingering, scumbag toji, overly cheesy pet names, etc.

Wordcount: 1.2k

When you came home for spring break, the only two things you could think of were one, how many hours would you have to work to afford the upcoming semester, and two, how badly did you just fail all of your midterms?

The answers to those questions became extremely clear as you crunched the numbers in your head. Sitting at eleven-fifty an hour for eight hours a day, five days a week, you'd just barely scrape by with tuition and textbooks. And as far as midterms went, shit, at least you tried. 

If you were more delusional, you'd say your professors had it out for you, but ever the realist, you knew you simply fucked yourself over this time. Hours of studying in the library, and for what? A fourty-two in calc and a fifty-point-something that your organic chem professor didn't even have the decency to round up? 

Stepping into your boyfriend's— was that what he was?— apartment, you felt the desperate craving for a square root curve on those exams, and dick. Always dick. 

All a financially irresponsible, deadbeat father of an older man could offer a "bright" girl like you was just that. Lots of it too, seeing as how you stuck by Toji. 

He was nice enough to invite you to stay at his place over spring break, for the purposes of having a warm cunt nearby at all hours, and to get you out of the shitty dorm room you stayed in any other night. 

"Oh, smart girl's back," Toji said, lazily murmuring at you from his couch. "Had a nice drive?"

You dropped your luggage at his door for him to bring to his bedroom later. His muscles weren't just for show, so you reckoned he could get off of his fine ass and put his thick arms to work. 

"No." Tired feet shuffled your body over, plopping you over his lap, face down. "Well, yeah, the drive was fine. I just don't feel like much of a smart girl."

He snorted indifferently, hardly registering your words as his greedy hand rested over your ass.

"Teacher's grading you too hard, or are y'just gettin' lazy on me?"

"Tch. Did you even graduate, asshole?" You pushed yourself up onto your elbows. "What do you know, anyways?"

Unimpressed, Toji yanked a bit of your hair. Gentle, but enough to force you to look at him. 

"Don't be a little shit. I did, and even if I didn't, it's the real-life stuff that matters. Bein' a book nerd never did anyone any good." He dropped your hair. "Street smarts and all that."

Street smarts. Jesus, what a joke. You cringed internally, remembering how the soon-to-be dropouts from last semester would claim that's what they had. All well and good to be street smart, you thought, seeing as the path you were going down would probably put you on the street. 

This was just the beginning. Whether you were overthinking or not, you were sure that if you didn't pull through for finals, you'd end up failing out. Maybe you were pretty enough to strip. Could be a back up plan, if only you could lose the "Freshman Fifteen" you quickly gained on campus, compliments of the stress eating and cheap, sugary energy drinks you found yourself addicted to. 

"I'm gonna fail out," you said suddenly, nibbling your bottom lip. "I don't know why I thought I could 'do' college. My dad was right."

Toji hated when you got like this. Not because he cared about your stress or ever-present anxiety. That's actually what he liked least about you, that and the fact that your college was forty, far minutes away. No, he hated having to deal with your self-doubt. No time to throw a pity party. No patience to reassure you.

That's the hard part about dating younger girls. He got older, and as he liked to think, wiser, but they stayed young and emotional. Such a drag. A real bummer for a thirty— okay, thirty-eight— year old man who was simply too old for this shit. 

If he wanted any, though, he knew he had to play the game. 

"C'mon, tootsie, it's not all bad. You're a smart one, yeah? And y'only got a couple months until you're done for a bit."

"Hmph."

Damn it. Women. Nothing he said would be good enough. At least there was something he could do that he knew would help. 

"Oh, I missed that baby. That's real good." You felt his warm breath fan over your thigh as his fingers plunged into you. 

Curl and twist, pump, pump, pump. That's all he could really do for you, you knew it. 

If you could ignore how well Toji made you feel, you would probably see what a bum he was. Living in a shitty apartment at his age, gambling and drinking as if money was no object, smoking enough to stain his couch with the smell of ash. Even knowing what his profession was couldn't quite deter you. 

In a life where everything was so dull, so predictable, you sort of liked the danger of a man like Toji. The risk. The wild ride that was his life. You weren't exactly Mary, Queen of Scots, but the old you would have a few questions about your current relationship with the destitute brokey that was glued to your cunt. 

The you now, through, was holding on for dear life, soaking up every second of slick, wet warmth that Toji could give you. Thick fingers prodded deep, curling against the tip of your cervix. Thick scent from a long gone cigarette lingered in the air. 

He was amused really. He would laugh, if he wasn't so desperate to be in your pussy again. Times like this, when he got a taste of you, made him wish he would go and visit you on campus. He wouldn't though, god knew he wouldn't. Every couple of months was good enough for him, lord forbid he use up his mileage to drive out of the city.

"Stop pushing me away," Toji mumbled, pulling your hand from his forehead. "Brat."

His tongue was sharp and purposeful. There were times when he would be messier, play with his food a little, but he was focused. Just not in the way you wanted him to be.

He set a rhythm for himself, a strict guideline. Every time you sucked in a deep breath, he pushed his tongue down harder against your clit. Every gasp was rewarded with a curl of his fingers. Each squirm was punished by a little nip. 

It worked, bringing you close to the edge, just to deny you. If you had it your way, his tongue would lather you and glide over your clit uninterrupted. Sadly, he was in charge, and as the bastard he was, he wanted things his way. That meant a bullying force behind each pump of his fingers, and a teasing swipe of his tongue to ease the brutality, just a bit.

There was no way he could hold you off forever, no matter how fun that sounded, so eventually, when you hands started to grip his hair too tightly, he gave a loud slurp to your pussy. 

If orgasms were money, you'd be a Vanderbilt, but they aren't. For the time being, you were happy enough just being Toji's girl. 

"Hey, To'?" Your messy hair and smudged mascara were a prize to him, a totem of his raw, sexual prowess. He hummed in response. "So, about my textbooks for next semester...?"

He sighed deeply, dragging from his well deserved post-fuck cig. 

"We'll see. Maybe if my parlay hits, doll."

[sininply-a-moth]

NEW SCP AU DROPPED

PUT YOUR OC HERE, WATCH THEM SUFFER

CONTENT WARNINGS- loss of limbs, blood, possible death, probably disfigurement, general bad time for everyone

ANGST for everyone. huzzah.

I'm so good at marketing.... heh... click read more INSTANTLY.

End of Anomalies

premise: a reality anchor breaks horrifically, either sabotaged or on purpose, I haven't decided yet, but it breaks. and every anomalous thing is sucked towards it, even the people. you can hold on tight to something, and not get sucked into the mass of chaos, but it means all the anomalous features are either torn out violently, or otherwise removed.

Clef - third eye got ripped out, can no longer reality bend. I think it's really jarring because in my canons, usually reality benders have a different hume level to the norm, so losing your reality bending abilities would also mean returning to normal hume levels-> basically having to relearn your senses because everything is duller/different

Kondraki - no longer has his butterflies... depending on if I go with 408 or 7408 he might just not be present whatsoever, or at least slowly start deteriorating as time goes on

Gears - can actually express slight emotions now, because I like to think that some extent of his unfeelingness is anomalous

Iceberg - Is warm ! not happy about this because he got used to being cold. everything feels like it's on fire all the time. also lost some of his fingers due to frostbite, since I think the fact that he stays together at all isn't just because he's cold.

963 omitted for now as I'm unsure which version to go with/don't want to cause drama, but if can be separated from thing making them immortal -> mortal, if cannot -> not present

being able to be separated includes being able to live with having it torn out by force btw.

Glass - remains relatively unaffected (not anomalous), but would likely be forced to go back to his agent days as MTF units/military/etc. would be in high demand to try to secure things

---

HOW THE BROKEN REALITY ANCHOR WORKS.

▪︎ if you're/something's anomalous to any degree, they will be pulled towards it. the further you are away, the stronger the pull ! you do not lose velocity though, and we're ALSO ignoring terminal velocity with this one

▪︎ if you have anomalous parts and you grab onto something real tight, the anomalous bits will get ripped off until you're 'normal' enough to not be actively dragged anymore. you still feel the pull towards the anchor in anything that remains, but as long as you don't get too far away, you're fine

this means people who were incredibly anomalous still retain very mild properties, whereas people who were only mildly anomalous to begin with are no longer anomalous.

▪︎ you don't die when you're stuck at the anchor (after being pulled in), you just have to wait until it inevitably breaks and chaos is unleashed. unless you're in the middle tho, good luck surviving the insane pressure of nearly every anomaly being sucked into a point </3

▪︎ skips like SCP-500 are VERY last resort. People who took them not too long before the event (close enough that the medicine wouldn't have been fully processed by the body) will feel their blood trying to leave their body ! if managed to get locked up (repeatedly) (ill come onto that) they also lose their anomalous value slowly, and so would only offer a small increase in healing speed, while making the patient deal with uhm. blood escape syndrome idk

▪︎ anomalous effects are only lost if you resist the anchor! this is because if you're at the anchor, all the anomaly is there, but if you resist, the anomaly is pulled out of you </3

oh! but nefarious moth swarm, all the anomalies are in boxes ! however will they all be in one place !

the anomalies are smashed into the sides of their containment cells until they're out or otherwise no longer being pulled.

also the anchor DOES run out of energy at some point and you DO have to fight every anomaly at once. all of them. except the friendly ones I suppose.

[puggnugget]

A Bed In The Meadow

PART EIGHT

WARNING: NSFW!! SMUT, mature themes, 18 & over.

Writers Notes: Ya'll finna eat good, enjoy!

Word Count: 3,255

Gale sighed heavily, sipping his morning tea in front of the fire as his mind wandered. Last night certainly could have gone better. His heart was heavy with worry - the sudden uncertainty of his future, the orb, you. It was all so much, he didn't know where to begin or how to unpack it all.

Regret stirred in the pit of his stomach as he remembered how he had raised his voice at you, he hadn't meant to. He never wished to cause you grief or burden you with a weight no one could truly carry.

He wanted to be your peace, to be at your side, but everything felt so uncertain now with the task Mystra had placed upon his shoulders.

He loved your unyielding determination that defied the God's themselves, how he wished to have your optimism.

'There must be another way', your voice echoed in his head. Another way? This was the clearest path forward that could be found. He sighed, brows furrowed as he continued to lose himself in thought.

Astarion sat in front of him across the fire, crossing his legs. His eyes a mixture of emotions.

"Astarion, what are you doing up so early?" Gale questioned.

"Talking to a suicidal idiot, what does it look like I'm doing?" Astarion gestured, his tone snarky and low.

"Look, I'm truly not in the mood for this today -"

"And I'm truly not in the mood to deal with your relationship drama today, but here I am, assisting you in cleaning up the mess you've made." Astarion ran a hand through his hair.

"I would strongly disagree that I'm the one who made a mess-" Gale began before Astarion quickly interrupted.

"Yes, yes, that's all well and good - but you're the one who couldn't leave well enough alone, and now you have that pesky orb burrowed in your chest."

Astarion took a deep breath before beginning once more.

"But that's not why I'm here, I'm here to tell you to get your shit together, and to sort it out - quickly. Nothing is set in stone, so you needn't act like it, not yet anyways. You were dealt a shitty hand, yes, but that does not mean the game is over."

"Why do you care, Astarion?" Gale questioned, leaning forward as he studied the elf.

"If you must know," Astarion thought carefully.

"You hurt... my friend," Astarion paused, realizing the words that parted from his lips.

"She was a sorry sight last night, and I hope to never see her like that again." Astarion narrowed his eyes at Gale, issuing him a stern warning.

Gale sighed, his heart heavy.

"You must see my point of view, Astarion. It isn't so simple."

"Of course I see your point, Gale, and nobody said it was simple. But Tav is right, as she often is. You can't just role over and die without weighing all other options. If that is the route you are so determined to go down, by all means - but if you're giving up hope now, pursue her no further. Save her the heartbreak."

Astarion's words pierced through Gale's heart like jagged ice. There was no way he could let go of you now, not after everything that's happened.

"You've given me much to consider, Astarion." Gale looked down at his tea, cupped gently in his hands.

************************************************************

You avoided Gale for the better part of the morning as you and your comrades traveled through the vast and endless darkness. A slight hangover clung to you as did your regrets on how you handled the evening prior.

Stupid girl, you should've stayed - he needs you, and you walked away. You thought to yourself. You could not begin to comprehend the burden that was forced upon him, no mortal should ever have to face it - especially alone.

It took you a moment to realize a group of people lurked in darkness, torches alight with steady footsteps. The shadows came to collect as they pulled away a helpless soul from their ranks, your intervention was swift - no more lives would be lost this day.

Their appreciation lead you to the Last Light Inn where you had met Jaheira. You also found yourself amongst the tiefling refugees once again, learning they had not made it to Baulder's Gate as you had hoped.

All was explained to you over a glass of wine with Jaheira, you found yourself fond of her prickly demeanor. She offered you beds, food, and drink which delighted your party.

You had hoped for an uneventful afternoon, but after introductions were made with Isobel - the cleric that protected this plot of land - the Inn was attacked by the Absolute.

Yet again, you came out victorious as you had many times before. The rest of the afternoon was filled with assisting the clean up of your enemies bodies and viscera.

Come what you assumed to be evening time, you were utterly exhausted. This hostile land seemed to drain you of energy with its cruel, cold air.

Despite the fatigue, you knew you had to speak with Gale.

******************************************************

You tapped on his door gently, waiting for Gale's response.

"Come in!" he called.

You stepped into the dimly lit room, but it wasn't Gale per se that waited for you, but rather an illusion of Gale.

"Hello! I'm here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep, he has kindly requested your presence elsewhere this evening, may I escort you?" It asked.

"Ehm, I suppose so," you chuckled at the sight of the translucent Gale.

"Most excellent! Please, follow me!" It was enthusiastic as it lead you.

You had followed Gale's image out of the Inn, carrying a torch, until you came upon a clearing where Gale - the real Gale- sat. The sky above him was not pitch black like you had expected it to be, but was a mixture of perfectly placed stars, purples, greens, and deep blues that melded together in harmony.

You sat next to Gale quietly, in awe of the painted night sky before you.

"Did you do this?" you whispered.

"I did, the curse remains - but it is vailed for now," he said with a devilish grin.

You both sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity as you watched in awe at Gale's creation.

He took your hand, bringing it to his lips - planting a firm kiss on the back of it.

"If... if you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure your death had meaning?" Gale asked softly, squeezing your hand.

"Of course I would." You whispered in reply.

"But we cannot foresee how the end will play out, we cannot assume that this is the only way. You needn't die for your Goddesses forgiveness, Gale." You frowned, a tear gliding down your cheek.

"I'm... so sorry, for how I handled my part last night. I shouldn't have left you to deal with that alone, but I'm here now. I am with you. I cannot imagine your pain, your burden, but I will love you through it." He wiped the tear away with his thumb as you spoke, his deep earthy brown eyes softening. He cupped your cheek in his warm hand gently.

"I'm sorry too, truly. If you believe there is another way, I will put faith in that notion and try my hardest to see it comes to fruition. But I want you to understand, that if there is no other way - this is something I must do." He stroked your cheek as a frown pulled at his lips.

"I understand," you replied.

"You must know by now you're special to me..." He trailed off. "That I'm in love with you." His words made your heart swell, your face flush.

"I'm in love with you too," you leaned into his palm, smiling, another tear gliding down your cheek.

He laughed, "well, that certainly is a relief."

Your gaze met once more as you melted in is eyes, leaning towards him before your lips met his.

"I want to lay with you like the God's do," he spoke in between kisses.

"Show me," you begged.

***************************************************

Your surroundings were blurry as your eyes opened slowly, laying beside Gale. He had taken you in the weave in every way imaginable, your very soul felt as if it were electrified by the experience. The things he had shown you, you never knew such pleasure could exist.

You looked down in visible confusion as your clothes were still adorned on your body.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," he sat up smiling, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I did..." you trailed off.

"But?" He cocked an eyebrow with a concerned look in his eyes.

"But, I'm trying to make sense of it all.. It was amazing, you needn't worry there! It's just..."

Your knees clasped together, your body craved his physical touch now more than it ever has. Burning hot lust gnawing low in your belly, your slit dripping wet.

"Perhaps it's all just hard for me to understand and take in?" You looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of it like that," Gale said nervously.

"I want you, the real you - in the flesh... I want to feel all of it." Your gaze was intense and longing. The apple in his throat bobbed nervously before a bed with satin lilac sheets materialized before you in the meadow.

"I must confess, I am a tad nervous... It, uh, it's been a very long time since I could indulge... Longer still since it was truly... Physical." Gale stammered, lifting you to your feet.

"Don't worry, I'll take my time with you," you whispered in his ear and he shuddered in response.

You took Gale by the hand as you lead him to the bed, both of your bodies shivering with nervous energy. You draped your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him with a longing hunger, he moaned into your parted lips as you pressed your body into his. His hands holding your waist firmly, demanding more of you. You could feel his lust through his trousers, pressing into your pelvis, twitching and expectant.

You both collapsed onto the bed in a frenzy of movements, the satin sheets felt cool beneath your skin as Gale lingered on top of you, pressing his hips down hard onto your center. The pressure you felt building was pure torture.

Your hands were suddenly searching for his flesh, pushing them underneath his tunic and trailing up to his bare chest. He shuddered as your hands searched to feel every bit of him in a hungry haze. Your kiss deepening as his tongue slipped between your parted lips, your tongues stirring together.

In a swift motion you pulled at his shirt until you removed it entirely, casting it to the side. His brow beaded with sweat, his hair falling around his face creating a curtain between the rest of the world and yourselves.

He began to kiss you again, feverishly this time - as if he could not control himself.

"Gods, I need you," he whimpered into your mouth between kisses, you pressed your hips into his, his lust impossibly hard against your thigh.

"Then take me," you demanded of him.

No more coaxing needed, he was eager to listen to your command. He broke away from your kiss, trails of saliva trying to bind you together severed. He grabbed at your gown, lifting it up and over your head, casting it away - all that remained were your panties. Your bare breasts aching and alert in the cool night breeze.

"Gods above," he muttered, taking in the sight of you beneath him. He was trembling before you, his eyes wide and burning with need.

You smiled at him coyly, "what?" you asked.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes upon, I could worship you for a life time." He breathed, leaning down as he began to kiss and lick your neck. His stubble tickling you slightly, you moaned in response to his touch, and you could feel his lips curl into a smile as he continued his descent down your body. Making his way to your breasts, his breath hot and heavy as he lingered over them.

You writhed impatiently, awaiting his next move when suddenly his tongue coiled around a nipple, his hand grasping at the other. He rolled one in between index and thumb as his tongue lapped at the other. Conflicting sensations and movements broke your concentration, you tried to hold back but it was in vain.

"Gale," you moaned, your body jolting in response to the sudden sensation. His mouth warm and wet, surrounding you.

He certainly took his time with you, enjoying every moment, every moan that escaped your lips - before once again continuing the descent downward. With every touch you squirmed with wanton desire, you ached in every sense of the word for him and only him.

His trail of scorching kisses lead downward again, until finally his face was near your center. Nervousness and lust twisted low in your belly, he looked up at you with darkened and lidded eyes.

"I can't wait to taste you again," he groaned, pushing your panties to the side as he exposed your womanhood. Your slit was a dripping mess, a gasp caught in Gale's throat at the site of you, biting his lower lip. He lingered for a moment, watching you squirm nervously under his gaze. He was making you wait for it.

"P-please," you began to beg, before you could even formulate a thought to finish his tongue was pressed against your sex, dragging agonizingly slow to your cluster of nerves.

"G-gods, my Gods!" Your legs instantly went to clasp shut, but he pushed them apart once more. Resting his hands on your inner thighs, refusing to relent as his tongue lashed against your burning heat with methodical strokes.

Your body shook uncontrollably with each flick of his tongue, the burning lust that sat in your belly swelling in your thighs, then your calves, to the soles of your feet. You could not hold your moans in any longer, you were losing yourself entirely to him and carnal pleasures.

He kept the same tempo that made you squirm, but increased the pressure of his tongue with each stroke. Your moans and curses were growing louder as they carried on the night breeze.

He focused in on your bundle of nerves, lapping you up hungrily, he groaned into your sex - loving the taste of you.

You hardly had warning as you began to burst, hands wrapping into his hair with desperation as your hips bucked and twitched.

"Gale!" you screamed, unable to control your volume as you reached the threshold of your climax. He dug his hands into your hips, as your body tried to push away but he only pulled you closer, refusing to part his lips from you.

Squirming, sweat beading down your chest as a second wave of pleasure surged within you.

"Gale, I- I.. wait, Gale, G-gods - I'm cumm-" You wailed, as you burst into ecstasy once more. Once he was fully satisfied with his work he sat up on his knees, his chin slick with your wetness. Your body shook uncontrollably as you watched him slide your panties down your legs, gasping in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

"I've made such a mess of you," he groaned as he leaned in to kiss you. Your taste was sweet on his tongue.

He kissed you passionately and deep as you heard the shuffle of fabric for a few moments, then suddenly his bare length was prodding at your slit.

He placed a hand around the base of his shaft, guiding it eagerly along your wet heat, teasing you.

"You are enough to drive me to madness," his breath was hot against your lips. You shuddered as he continued to toy with his length at the entrance of your slit.

"Do you want it?" He looked into your gaze through lidded eyes, his body shaking with anticipation.

"More than anything," you begged, bucking your hips.

He focused for a moment on the angle, before slowly pressing his hips forward - you welcomed him eagerly as the tip slid in with no resistance. You were both shaking, nervous wrecks - naked before one another.

"Please, tell me if I hurt you in anyway." He asked softly.

Your hand cupped his cheek as you looked into his eyes and nodded, reassuring him.

Another agonizingly slow thrust and he was halfway in now, you could feel how it throbbed inside you. You leaned upward and kissed him passionately, as he thrust what remained to the hilt, burying himself in your depths. Both of you let out a moan in unison at the sensation. Finally, you could finally know what it was like to feel him inside of you.

He was at the end of your depth without even trying, he pulled back slightly then thrust forward once more. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering, drinking the moment in.

"You put the stars to shame, you are perfection," he groaned into your neck, his whole body continued to shake. The rhythm started slow at first as he allowed your slit time to get used to him, you were wrapped tightly around his sex.

"I love you," he whispered in your ear as the thrusting began to quicken, growing more ravenous with need.

"I love you, too," you moaned as you kissed the edges of his jaw. Your breasts dragged along his chest with every pump, his fingers coiling with yours and the sheets beneath.

He began to pant as his pace deepened, sharp and hungry thrusts pressing against your womb. You could see in his eyes he was trying desperately to hold back for your sake, his body begging for release.

He suddenly paused as he sat up on his knees again, still at the edges of your depth. Both of his hands grabbed your waist as he began once again, his eyes trailing over every inch of your skin. He began bucking harder, pleasure mixed with a twinge of pain as his size forced you to stretch in accommodation. His grasp on your waist firm and unwavering, holding you in place, making you take every inch of him.

You clasped a hand over your mouth as you couldn't hold back your moans any longer, each thrust forcing a sound out of you. His muscles flexing, covered in sweat as he once again bucked faster.

"Gods! You feeling amazing," he moaned loudly, head tilting back, never wavering in his pace.

You clung to the sheets, writhing, as that feeling of ecstasy was near boiling over. As if he could sense it himself, Gale spoke.

"Please, cum for me." He begged.

Your body couldn't resist, and for a third time you burst - your warmth shuddering and clenching him tighter as you came harder than you ever had.

The sensation of you pulsing and wrapped around him pushed him over the edge, he had reached his limit and could hold back no longer. He quickly pulled out, his hot seed shooting out and onto your stomach and chest, panting and moaning as his stiffness pulsated with every spurt.

He collapsed beside you, trembling and sweaty. He weakly waved his hand over you, and the sin he had splashed across your skin disappeared.

You both laid in a silent embrace for what felt like an eternity, exchanging candied words and soft kisses.

[mistmarigold]

Currently trying to figure out how exactly should I put my feelings for Yifan (and Sang Yan, by default) in words…. She’s so, so endearing to me and I just want her to be her best, happy, and flirty self (it’s okay if she has literally never done it before in her entire life, she’ll figure it out soon enough and continue giving Sang Yan a brain freeze).

I’ve already talked about her sense of safety with Sang Yan here so not to repeat that but I’m genuinely so emotional over her growth especially in both her comfort level as well as her own sense of self. She might not be 100% there yet but she’s at least starting somewhere. Flirting with Sang Yan especially with that response - she went from 0 to 100 real quick I’m proud of her - like girlie fr said okay I’m gonna try and it’s so, so huge for her. When she’s talking to her friend about loving ourselves, I genuinely think it turned on a switch or something. She’d have never gotten to that conclusion if she was just considering herself but now that the context was her friend and her mom, the perspective shifted. I doubt it did much but perhaps it gave her a push to at least consider herself and her feelings.

Even in this episode alone she was proclaiming that if Sang Yan wants the stars from the sky, he should have them and feeling unworthy of him. But by the end, she actually took a step forward and flirted with a man (big deal) and it’s none other than Sang Yan (though tbf I don’t think she’d have ever gotten to this level if it was anyone else but him). Even with the porridge bit and having food with him like this is such a huge step forward - she’s trying so hard and a part of me thinks she doesn’t realise it because being with him comes so much easier to her than trying to stay away from him. It’s like the latter goes against her entire system so sooner or later, she’d just end up finding her way back to him.

Also, Sang Yan saying “for now” when his mom asked Yifan being his girlfriend I’m just like that man is fr so sure of the potential between them. And it’s incredibly interesting to me because he has no idea why she did what she did all those years ago. She never apologised for it even after they met again. She hasn’t even given him much inkling about her feelings for him - apart from sleepwalking and treat him as free real estate - and yet, he’s standing there telling his mom that there’s potential and hope. I’m marvelling at his heart fr because who does that, really? Despite knowing nothing and being extremely hurt by her words/actions for literal years - so much so that he still carries that hurt and vulnerability - he is still standing there, waiting for one sign from her to pick up right where they left off. His reaction at the end, grabbing her hand and moving seats, pestering her about taking ‘advantage’ of him, never leaving a single chance to talk about them as a unit - he literally doesn’t care that she hurt him back then. All he wants is her and that’s enough, nothing else matters.

His yearning knows no bounds or reason, even if he tries to keep his distance, it still doesn’t work. Wen Yifan and Sang Yan just gravitate towards each other, irrespective of everything in their lives.

(PS. their flirty dynamics are so delicious to me especially with how both their characters are. I can’t wait to see him lose his marbles at Yifan taking the initiative - he’ll be ready to follow yes but still the chemistry is unmatched.)

[andrewsleftarmband]

TGR SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Okay I’m back for some more rambling incoherency, and this time I want to talk about Aaron’s trial.

I have been DYING for any information about the trial since I read the kings men and the EC. I was hoping that we’d get some sort of info in tgr, and honestly Nora gave us more than I thought she would (thank you so much mother)

Lets start with this

My first time reading this I immediately wondered if he waived the jury for andrews sake, and now I’m absolutely convinced that that is what happened. Now im just wondering if Aaron did it without being asked, or if it came from Andrew himself.

I’ll bet so much that the only reason Kevin’s focus stayed on exy is because it’s his crutch. I think kevin was more affected than he let on to Jeremy, and I’ll bet he channeled all of that into being absolutely insufferable on the court.

I wonder what those couple weeks leading up to it were like. I wonder how many joint (and solo) sessions were devoted to trial preparation. I wonder if anyone was able to look anyone else in the eye. I wonder if Neil was already planning to use his mafia family influence to potentially get Aaron out of prison. I wonder if Andrew spoke a single word. I have so many thoughts omg

I’m glad that Nora kept Betsy going with Andrew. The EC stated that neil made an appointment with her just to tell her that Andrew needed her. That he was going to see Cass, and he needed a mother. Betsy being there makes me think this is still canon, and I fucking love that so much. Betsy and Andrew will always get me so soft omg.

I fucking love this so much. That’s my BOY right there!!!!!! Oh, I’m sorry, you want to step out of line and then the worst parts of someone’s life into a sensationalist cover story? Get fucked cunt.

Really though, imagine being Andrew, nerves already frayed because you have to go and say OUT LOUD the worst things that have ever happened to you, and show everyone your weakest points. Imagine already hanging on by a fucking thread, because you’re giving everyone a knife and turning your back. And then someone walks right up to that last thread you’re hanging onto with some scissors. I’d have snapped too. I love how Jeremy notes that it was bee who got Andrew to go inside instead of go after the camera man. She really is his rock and I love it so much.

I find this absolutely fascinating. First off, the visuals are *chefs kiss*, that was probably a fantastic photo, as disreputable as it was. But there’s a lot going on here.

First, Jeremy mentions Andrew and Kevin are as far away from each other as possible with Neil halfway in between. I know there is some symbolism there, but I can’t quite put my finger on why Neil in the middle is so significant.

I wonder who was avoiding who. Was Andrew avoiding Kevin because how could he be Kevin’s protector now? How could Kevin see him as someone strong when everyone knows now how weak he is? He can’t be near Kevin because he can’t be near the reminder of his failures.

Was Kevin avoiding Andrew? Andrew is unshakable. Andrew is unbreakable. Except he isn’t, and Kevin knows that now. He’s known it since November, but now he has to deal with it. And maybe the reminder that Andrew is breakable is a reminder that he is too. That he can’t always put a barrier between him and his problems. But maybe Kevin was scared of Andrew. Maybe he expected him to explode, rage boiling over and in need of a target. Maybe he was remembering fingers around his throat. Or maybe he was worried he’d set Andrew off. Didn’t want to cause any more discomfort for him.

I don’t know, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

And then Neil, not sure who he was supposed to be following. Should he follow andrew and try to be there as some kind of support? Should he try to offer some comfort or maybe even just a cigarette and some company? Or should he follow Kevin, and make sure Kevin doesn’t lose it on the stand? Maybe he should go with Kevin, because Andrew can’t be with him right now but Kevin still needs someone. Maybe he should be what Andrew can’t and watch over his charge.

In the end, he goes with Kevin. I wonder if Andrew looked back to give him a nod, some sort of signal to go after Kevin. I wonder if he kept walking without looking, and Neil in his near perfect understanding of this boy knows that he can’t be around another person right now. Kevin needs him now, maybe Andrew will need him later.

I wonder if the reason Kevin never responded to Jeremy was because he got himself fucking obliterated as soon as he was back from the courthouse. I wouldn’t be surprised.

Now THIS is probably one of my favorite moments from the trial. I don’t often think of Nicky as being one to fly off the handle, but I know he can. There’s definitely a couple times in the books he throws a punch, I just can’t remember the specifics right now.

But anyways, I wonder how much of this was anger and how much was grief. I imagine it was a bit of both. Nicky loves his parents so much. Or at least he did. And seeing them on the courthouse must have reopened every single wound they’ve ever inflicted on him because how could he do this? His own father let Drake upstairs. On the surface, this is easily pinned all on Luther. But I wonder if Nicky was blaming himself too. Blaming himself for making everyone go, for not noticing what was up with Andrew, for not understanding that he isn’t a monster, for all the times he came on too strong and made terrible jokes and oh goodness how couldn’t he have known?

I think this confrontation was a boiling over of a rage and a grief that he’s been burying for a long time. Rage over what happened to Andrew, what his parents did to him, how his parents set up the attack in November. Rage over what Aaron had to do. And then grief, for his childhood, and his cousins childhood, and for the parents he thought he knew. This was the last straw, and he’s never giving them another chance. How could he? Maybe it’s that old old pain, the why don’t they love me? That’s finally boiling over. And honestly, good for him.

The fact that security practically bodied him up the stairs is telling. He was going at it. He was losing it. And I think he needed that. Nicky has really been through it, but he hasn’t really worked through any of it. And he had to confront all of it and then some on those court steps.

I wonder if he cried through his testimony. If he was sorting through every memory he had of Andrew from the time he took guardianship to that very day, looking for signs and all the ways he should have helped. All the ways he failed.

I wonder if he got wasted with Kevin.

The last big thing I want to point out is this. I’m honestly rather surprised that Kevin thinks Aaron getting all charges dismissed is unexpected. The case is very very clear cut, there’s hardly any argument you could make that this wasn’t defensive. Maybe there’s something we don’t know, some angle the prosecution was taking that could have ended badly, but I don’t think so.

What this also made me think of was the back up plans in case Aaron actually did end up in prison. I wonder if Andrew was already planning to switch and take his place, or if he was considering something more violent like Kevin suggests. I wonder if Neil was already in contact with his crime people, trying to find the right people to take the case so it’d be in their favor. I wonder how many arguments Neil and Andrew had about that, because I can imagine Andrew wanting to protect Aaron himself. Wanting to be the one making sure it goes right, not trusting anyone else with his brother. Maybe even Neil. There’s so much to think about.

One small note I want to make is Katelyn going with Aaron every day but the first. I wonder if Andrew or Aaron or even Neil told her to do that, or if it was her prerogative. Either way it’s so respectful I love it.

I loved everything about this, I really have been so obsessed with Aaron’s trial. Definitely one of my favorite things from the book omg. Sorry if I’m incoherent as fuck I just have so many thoughts. I can’t wait to read fox pov fics of this omg.

[formula1fanfiction]

Carlos Saniz/George Russell

Title: Won't you take that part of me?

Pairing: Carlos Saniz/George Russell

Characters: Carlos Saniz, George Russell, Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Fernando Alonso

Prompt: Can you write alpha Carlos and omega George. GPDA meeting but it goes wrong somehow

AO3 LINK

Carlos taps his foot impatiently waiting for George to arrive, he’s the one who called this meeting in the first place, the only thing George put in his email is “hostility towards dynamics” He's just learning from George today, most of the other drivers are here already, Aston Martin, Kimi and Ollie are the others not present.  

“Is this important Carlos? George is taking the piss” max huffs a little impatient. "Liam and I have, places to be." Liam looks like he's about to say something as Ollie and Kimi arrive together, the baby alpha smells of distress. Kimi has recently presented as an alpha and his hormones are all over the place, Carlos puts it down to that. Aston Martin arrive, Fernando with his usual gleeful smile and Lance looking lost only a few steps behind. George follows only a few steps behind them. 

“It’s about time George, I thought punctuality was one of your strengths” Then the strong smell of a distressed omega hits him. George doesn’t say anything, just thrusts a folder of neatly put together papers into Carlos’ hands. His eyes are pleading, he steps as far away from Carlos as much as the small stage allows him to. 

“George would like us to talk about -“ Carlos glances down at George’s neat handwriting hostility towards dynamics” There's a small murmur between the drivers, mostly the alpha's.

“Meaning what?” Fernando snaps. “Meaning you treat omega’s like garbage and that’s not ok, man” Lewis snaps back, pulling a low growl from Fernando. "Come on Hamilton, you were around when no omega's were allowed, it was so much better. Although you've not been the same since a beta beat you to a championship then an omega from Williams started beating you, embarrassing."  Lewis is a better man than Carlos, because he just rolls his eyes then turns back to face the stage, eyes fixed firmly on George.

 “Does anyone have anything to say about this?” Carlos feels like a fish out of water, he's been to many of these meetings before, he tries to remember what George would do in this situation. He takes a quick glance at the omega he’s backing himself further and further back into the nearest wall. Something's clearly wrong, but he doesn't want to bring it up in front of everyone else.

“Finally it’s about time, someone else stepped up. It’s not right to only have a useless omega as our voice” someone says, Carlos isn’t really sure. The smell radiating from George is getting stronger, he’s upset and distressed. 

“No that’s not it.” Carlos manages to say. “That’s exactly it, even Max himself said George was sleeping with the FIA, we don’t need someone like that, who is willing to use his status to get what’s best for him. 

“I didn’t say that.” Max snaps “I said you and your FIA mates, and it has nothing to do with GPDA. I voted for George, and I would do it again” Carlos can feel the situation getting out of hand, it's hard when you have a scared an omega next you, his instincts are screaming at him to do something about it. “Why are we arguing about this? We all voted for George and we all voted for Carlos what’s the deal here? We have one of each, perfect." Lewis is clearly getting annoyed now.

“You know, you all voted George back in at the same time right?” He feels the urge to defend George, the omega is backed into a corner, his fear scent dripping off him. He’s not acting like himself, he’s quiet and usually you can’t get a word in edge ways. 

“George are you ok?” Alex asks his voice soft, George lifts up his head only a small whimper coming out of his mouth. “George?” This only seems to piss Fernando off even more. “See, this is why we need Carlos”

Carlos loses himself, his instincts fully take over, he lets out a loud authoritative growl, a few of the omegas whimper, George is on his knees trembling in fear. “Fuck, I don’t want you to speak ill of him anymore got it? I’m sorry for that though, I couldn’t control my instincts” He says in a mad rush, because fuck what has he done?

“Not cool at all man. You scared the omegas” Lewis snaps “and look at George” Fernando chuckles “See you proved my point there.” Lance looks hesitant “is George ok?” Fernando takes the Canadian by the arm and drags him out. “Who cares Lance?” 

“What’s wrong with George anyway, he called this meeting and not said a word, usually you can’t get him to shut the fuck up” Max looks more concerned than anything, but everyone right now has their eyes on George. “You need to tell the truth Kimi” Ollie whispers under his breath, catching Max’s attention. “Care to share this news Kimi?” The Dutchman stands with his hand on his hip, eyebrow slightly raised.

“I can’t he said-“ the young alpha shakes his head. Ollie sighs. “Look Kimi didn’t want to say anything because he threatened me too but Fernando used his alpha voice on George before we came in, basically silencing him, he said to Kimi if tells anyone about this, he will make me suffer too.”  

“I’m sorry, im a rubbish alpha” max  squeezes him on the shoulder. “You’re a freshly presented pup, this is not your fault” Kimi makes a distress sound. "I'm sorry all the same." Ollie snuggles into him and scents him. Max smiles at the young couple.“Well Carlos, it looks like your first job is to make this a safe place for omega’s” 

“You can all leave” Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, to help him calm down but all he can smell is George and his fear scent. The younger omega is still on the floor with Alex. He waits until all the other drivers leave before approaching them.  

"He likes his nest when he's upset, please take him there." Kimi's voice is very small. Carlos' heart skips a beat from the cuteness of it. "I'll take care of him, don't worry about what happened, it's not your fault." Kimi nods sadly and snuggles up to Ollie as he follows the rest of the drivers out of the room.

“How is he Alex?” The beta sighs. “Not good, I can’t seem to snap him out of it, I don’t know if this has induced his heat, he’s very hot” He's not sure what to do for the best right now, when Carlos agreed to this, he didn’t expecting a civil war between the Alpha’s and omegas and his fellow director to be on his knees whimpering sadly. In the end, he decides to go over there.

“I’m coming to you George” Carlos kneels beside the omega, who doesn’t whimper but bares his neck. “Hey, hey, no need for that ok?” Alex might be right about the heat, he’s drenched in his sweat, his hair is sticking to his forehead and there's a distinctive sweet smell coming from him, mixing with the smell of distress, putting the omega in a very vulnerable position. “I’m sorry I growled Georgie, I’m so sorry” big blue eyes meet his own but they are hazy and unfocused.”    

Alex makes a noise of disgust. “We need to get you out of here Georgie, you’re not safe” Carlos watches as Alex tries to pull George onto his feet, the omega shakes and falls back into a crumpled heap. 

“Georgie, what did he say to you?” George only whimpers and shakes his head. “Do you want me to help you back to your nest” Carlos asks, some of the stress in George’s smell fades away, he nods. “How are you going to do that? You're tiny” Alex laughs. 

“I’m an alpha” He tells Alex, while scooping up the omega, George presses his head on the inside of Carlos neck, the overwhelming need to protect him takes over. He even growls at Alex when he takes a step too close. 

“Hey, that won’t work on me Carlos Sainz and he’s not your omega.” Alex is just protective of his friend, but the Alpha inside of Carlos takes it as competition. “My omega or not, he still trusted me to protect him, I can’t help my instincts” Alex frowns taking in the sight of both of them. “George, he- he’s quite a respectable omega I don’t know how he’s going to feel about this” Carlos ignores the alpha inside of him screaming at him to tell Alex to fuck off.    

“Look, me and George are ruled by instincts, he’s had someone use an alpha voice on him, he’s scared and feels the need to be protected which I am doing Alex, I’m not taking him back to knot him or anything like that. George whimpers in response. “I might just be a beta but it’s not wrong for me to want to protect my best mate” 

"Need Alpha, need Carlos." George stutters over his words, nuzzling Carlos' scent gland. It's the first thing George has said all afternoon. Alex sighs. "Look me in the eye and tell me you want this Russell." George pulls himself out of Carlos' neck. "Want this." Alex nods. "I'll keep my phone on loud, ring me if you need anything."

Carlos carries George back to his room, the strong smell of George, not dulled by blockers hits him in the face. He smells like lavender and oak. "Let's get you into your nest, you will feel better in there." His nest is tucked away in the corner, it's all neat filled mostly with Mercedes black, there a few bits from the other omega's a papaya jersey from Lando, a black Ferrari hoodie from Charles and something from HAAS that must belong to Ollie.

Carlos very gently lays George down into his nest, who purrs immediately and rubs his nose against some of the items. His purrs stop and instead he whines, holding his arms up to Carlos. "What's wrong Georgie?" George opens and closes his mouth. "In" The omega is still holding his arms out looking hopeful. "You want me in your nest?" George nods eagerly.   

Carlos climbs into the nest and snuggles into the different materials, the scents of his former teammate and very prominent. George climbs into his lap, placing his head back on the inside of Carlos' neck, and sighs happily. "Good Alpha." Carlos chuckles and nuzzles the top of George's head, the smell of stress is fading now. George falls to sleep, clinging onto him for dear life. It settles Carlos' own instincts having a happy omega snuggled up to him, so closes his eyes and drifts of to sleep as well.

When wakes again, there's a strong smell of an omega in heat, his cock is rock hard and throbbing and George is sat on his knee purring. "Alpha, need you." George moans rubbing himself against Carlos' dick, fuuuck. There's a damp patch on his knee from where George is sat.

"Carlos? My Carlos, my alpha?" Carlos grips him by the hips to stop the grinding, he doesn't want to blow his load in his pants. "Do you want me to be?" George moans loudly and starts rubbing himself again. "Please alpha." Carlos grips George by the jaw and forces eye contact. "Do you want this George?"

"Need you alpha, want you so bad." Carlos nods. "Ok then, let's take this onto the bed, I don't want to ruin your pretty nest." George purrs in delight, as he's carried from the nest onto the bed.

Carlos can only watch opened mouth as George tears off his clothing, the smell of George is stronger than ever, it's making Carlos want to jump his bones, and rail him hard, but then George lays himself down in the middle of the bed, bats his pretty little eye lashes. "I need you alpha." Then lets his legs fall open, revealing the most beautiful pussy Carlos has ever seen.

"Are you sure you want this beautiful?" Carlos settles himself between George's wide spread legs. "Please alpha, need you." His pussy is pink and beautiful, leaking a stream of slick onto the bed covers,  just begging for Carlos to stick his tongue inside. "

He can't wait a second longer and buries his head between George's legs. who moans in delight. Carlos pins George down onto the bed with strong hands to thighs and teases at his entrance, flattening his tongue and licking a swipe across it. George moans again, his knuckles turning white from clenching down on the bed sheets.

"Alpha please, need you." He sounds, so sad and so cute, Carlos gives him exactly what he wants, moving towards his clit and sucking down hard on the sensitive little nub. "Carlos, I-I." George cums with a squeak, his cum gushes onto Carlos' tongue who eagerly laps up every single drop. Carlos goes back to his dripping entrance and sticks his tongue inside, George arches his hips high up off the bed. "Alpha, knot, inside me inside me, please, please."

"Anything for you, sweet little omega." George purrs in delight, laying himself back against the pillows, while Carlos rips off his own clothes. George's pink tongue darts over his bottom lip, when Carlos' takes out his huge cock. "Like what you see, baby?" George nods. "Need you."

Carlos slides two fingers inside of him, George whines which soon turns into a moan. "Sorry, loose." George scents a little bit. "You're not loose, I just ate you out." Carlos adds a third finger, George clenches down around him. "please." Carlos kisses George's stomach. "Ok baby, no more teasing."

"You're so beautiful George, such a beautiful little omega, I could worship your body for hours." George purrs again, maybe at the words or maybe because Carlos' cock is nudged against his dripping wet entrance.

Carlos holds George's hips tightly and slowly sinks inside of him, he fills him up quickly thanks the amount of slick George is producing. He looks obscene tiny little pussy opened up so wide around Carlos' huge cock. The omega sighs in relief, finally having his pussy filled up.

"Please." Carlos doesn't waste any more time and starts to thrust slowly, George claws at Carlos' shoulders, pulling him closer. The alpha quickly gets the hint burying his face in George's neck as he picks up the pace and fucks him in earnest. George's blunt nails, are still digging into his shoulder blades, keeping him in place.  

George's head is resting on top of Carlos, nuzzling into the top of his head, his eyes are clenched together, his mouth wide open in a silent moan. Carlos changes his angle ever so slightly and presses into George's g-spot who moans in response, tightening up around him. "My Carlos, my alpha." George pulls him closer.  

"So needy for me baby." Carlos watches the bulge contracting in George's skinny stomach with every thrust, his tiny stomach stretching obscenely just to accommodate him, might be the sexiest thing Carlos has ever seen. "You're such a good boy George, taking me so well."  

"Kiss me alpha, please, please." How can he say no to that when a cute little omega is begging him so nicely? He pulls himself out of George's neck and presses their lips together. The only sound in the room, is the sound of skin slapping against skin, while their lips are hungrily moving against each other. The angle is absolutely perfect, he can hold George's skinny body with one hand, while hammering against his g-spot, making the omega squirm with pleasure underneath him, breaking the kiss every now and then to let out cute little gasps.

"I'm cumming-" George pulls away from the kiss and throws his head back against the pillows, his pussy clenching down tightly around as he cums hard, squirting his juice between their bodies.

"How many times do you think I can make you cum before I knot you? You've given two so far baby." Carlos growls into his ear, nipping his earlobe with his teeth. "Alpha, i'll give you whatever you want, just knot please, please, please." George gasps, clinging onto Carlos for dear life. His nails scratching at Carlos' skin, leaving little red welts behind.

"hey, hey it's okay beautiful, of course i'm going to knot you." Carlos pushes George's sweaty hair off his forehead and presses a hard kiss against the burning skin there. "I just want to make you feel so good first."

George whines high in his throat and nods, raising his hips to meet everyone of Carlos' thrusts, who is hitting his g-spot with every hard thrust. His eyes are unfocused, his mouth his wide open and slack, just taking everything Carlos is giving to him. "Such a perfect little omega."

"Come on baby, just one more." Carlos decides to help him out this time, using one hand to tweak at his sensitive little nipple, while using the other to rub circles on his clit. George shudders violently, as he cums for the third time.

Carlos himself is close now, his knot is getting bigger and bigger with every thrust, until soon he's cumming, knotting George and keeping the two of them stuck together.

"Fuck Carlos, i'm so sorry." George's voice is small and sad. "It's ok George, no strings attached, I just helped you through your heat." Carlos kisses the back of his sweaty neck, George nods. "I'm sorry all the same, this is not how I wanted your first GPDA meeting to go."

"Are you ok George, after everything with Fernando." George hisses. "Please don't talk about him when you're inside of me. He's the reason for the meeting, I- I don't want to talk about it." His knot suddenly pops, filling up George with his cum.

George rolls away curls himself into a ball. "What's wrong George?" He lifts his head, tears brimming in his wide blue eyes. "He's right though, i'll always lose to my biology, he uses his alpha voice on me and I turn into a whore."

"That's not true George, this is why you wanted to do the meeting in the first place, you're an omega yes, but you're confident and strong, fuck him. If anyone can bring that bastard down, it's you and i'll be here right by your side."

George purrs and rolls onto his back. "I'm a sucker for a ballsy alpha." Carlos chuckles. "Shut up George, you idiot." George giggles in response. "I'm being deadly serious."

"Welcome to the GPDA."   

[ironicgreenfern]

When I compared Wilson’s translation of the first line of Book 9 with Fagles and Cook, I did notice that she doesn’t leave much to the reader for interpretation. Fagles uses the phrase “teller of tales” which can both refer to Odysseus’ prowess in telling stories or it could refer to the meaning of “tales” as “fabrication” or “fiction”. Either way, Fagles leaves it to the reader to decide. When Wilson uses the epithet “lord of lies”, she doesn’t give us as much freedom. I did a bit of research on my own and found out this review by Corrine Pache, professor of classical studies at Trinity University, San Antonio. She actually mentions this. She too, felt that “lord of lies”, while catchy, was unsuitable and did not convey the full meaning of the word used there. She also says that Wilson uses the word “girls” to describe the slaves who were killed, while in reality, the original Greek text describes them as “women” and “slaves”. So, yes, I do agree with you, it does feel like Wilson purposefully mistranslates passages in her effort to overcome the bias. Unfortunately, this too creates a bias and wilfully manipulates the understanding of the reader. Another thing that the review mentions, and rightfully so, because I too was upset with it when I first read Wilson’s translation, was her deliberate choice to omit repetitions of certain passages. These repetitions are a proof of the oral tradition and an intrinsic part of the narrative. Without them, the text loses some of its charm.

When I said that “Odysseus’ deceptions destroyed lives”, I only wanted to draw attention to the fact that his plans might benefit one group while harming the other. While it is true, the Odyssey shows him trying to minimising the damage as much as possible, such is the nature of plans in general. A kind of an action-reaction effect (I hope this makes sense). To me, it seemed important to consider the reaction too. Also, while it is true that Odysseus warns the suitors repeatedly, I have always felt conflicted about the part where Odysseus and Telemachus kill the slave women. Odysseus reasons that they have brought shame upon his household and conspired with the suitors by sleeping with them. Yet, how can we be certain that they did so willingly? They were slaves after all. They had no one to protect them, with the master of the household gone, and Telemachus still young. Perhaps the women slept with the suitors not out of willingness, but out of fear. Even if some of them did willingly conspire with the suitors, did they really pose a threat to Odysseus? (Also, my usage of the word “terrible”, might have been a bit strong!)

As for the “cheating” thing that you said, it probably wasn’t a big deal for people to sleep with women other than their wives, if you look at it through the text’s time. I mean, we do see the Greeks in the Iliad taking war prizes in the form of women. And Odysseus does it as a necessity, not out of a need, perhaps? Because both Circe and Calypso were very powerful women, and potentially harmful to Odysseus (and his men, in case of Circe). In Book 5, Calypso does seem a bit miffed that Odysseus keeps wanting to see his wife when she is so much more beautiful, and Odysseus has to soothe her by saying that Penelope could never match her beauty. As I said before, Odysseus isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and maybe this is one of the cases. Cheating is awful, yes, but it seems a bit unfair to judge a character completely by our standards when he comes from a time so long ago.

Whatever I said about Odysseus in my previous post, was what I interpreted based on reading translations of Fagles and Wilson. I agree with all that you said, and again I am grateful that you answered to my post, because it helped me clear up a lot of things up about Odysseus in general. He is my favourite character too, and I am always happy to talk about him to someone (a habit that annoys my parents!). I also apologise if my interpretations are not always correct, as I am only 15, and as such my reading is nowhere near an expert like you. But I am really enthusiastic about Greek mythology and I hope to learn the language someday, so that I can read the epics in their own language.

I’ll also be adding Lattimore (and the others) to my reading list, since you recommended them. To be honest, I was a bit upset when I learned that Wilson’s translation was inaccurate. I think I really should do a side by side reading comparison of Wilson and any other translation next. If I do, I hope you won’t mind if I occasionally pester you with asks regarding any confusion I might have.

One of my favourite moments in the Odyssey is how Alcinous reacts after listening to Odysseus’ tales about his journey back from Troy, in Book 11. This is the moment I am talking about:

This is page 291 in my Norton edition of Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey

Keep in mind that this is after Odysseus talks about the incidents in the cyclops’ cave (the “nobody” incident, as I like to call it) just two books before, in Book 9. Book 9 also begins with the following lines:

This is page 240

Alcinous’ praise in Book 11 (the first pic) made me audibly go “What?!” when I first read it. I am quite certain that this was the general reaction of the gods on Olympus, who were very probably listening to the conversation all along.

Odysseus’ charisma is unmatched.

[completeoveranalysis]

[3]

The details seem slightly muddy here too. The wording makes it sound like her time was stopped on purpose for the sake of preserving the two futures, when Tsubasa describes it as a half-conscious thought that was unfortunately so powerful it stopped time and cracked reality.

I suppose if you read it sideways you could read “It was for the sake of two worlds” as, like, it ended up benefitting the two worlds or something. But still!

Finally a character just snapping under all the abstract details

We love to see it. 

Almost.

But it IS fun that Watanuki hears the plot and is just instantly like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”

In Watanuki gets to be all of us.

We LOVE Yuuko’s genuinely shocked expression at Watanuki’s reaction. 

Somehow this was not what she was expecting his reaction to be and I kind of love that he brings her out of the sad monologue in her final moments. It kind of refocusses the moment away from the grand mystery and makes it a more personal tragedy - it makes it clear that he cares about her and will miss her deeply. 

That’s the element that’s been missing from her ending (on the Tsubasa side) so far, and it’s so touching to see both her and Watanuki overcome with the emotion that he can’t even properly verbalise. 

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[nicorobinphd]

stg, being an enjoyer of jane twdg is like being forced into an expert-level course on the way misogyny manifests in video game spaces.

god forbid a woman be complex or difficult or provably mischaracterized (see tags) at the end of her arc to service the culmination of a man’s storyline.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

you get riz gukgak so well 👍👍

thank u!! he really kinda is all of my favourite character things rolled into one package (negotiation of principles/investigator-truth seeker-negotiator with reality and the narrative/obnoxious character whose narrative reward for participating in the story is getting to be even more authentically obnoxious/deeply and hauntingly aroace