#I CAN ONLY USE ARA

[a-rare-female-blaziken]

UGH. Yeah Esme's neat but she just feels boring. There's not as much potential for Scenarios with her. I'm already cycling back to Ara. Why can't I leave her alone

[billdenbrough]

“We’re out of juice,” is what Ronan says when he sits down beside Gansey, legs sprawling across the floor in contrast to Gansey’s carefully-crossed ones. Their knees still touch, like Ronan has been pulled into Gansey’s orbit so completely that it extends even to his limbs, a fact of the universe written out even on the most mundane of scales.

It’s a good representation of them: Gansey, cross-legged in soft cotton sweatpants, as if the lack of visible branding will make it any less evident to someone like Ronan—or Parrish, if he were here, but he’d know that the way he always does, the differences between him and Gansey mapped out on that invisible layer Adam holds between them, the one Gansey likes to pretend doesn’t exist—that they cost at least three figures; Ronan, leaning back a little, wearing his shitty expensive jeans that Parrish hates so much, the ones that cost at least four figures and Ronan doesn’t care about the washing instructions for, the ones fraying at the knee that Ronan has pressed up against the junction of where Gansey’s knee meets thigh.

This is the truth of things: two boys who look very, very different, but are more connected than you’d think, if you look closely enough. If it’s not their eyes, it’s their knees. If it’s not their knees, it’s their souls.

Ronan’s opinion on his soul’s eternal state is a complicated thing, but the way it matches Gansey’s is never in doubt. Not to him.

A two-headed-beast, Ronan thinks, staring out at Gansey’s insomnia-driven cardboard rendition of Henrietta. Gansey says excelsior, and Ronan’s the fucking sword cutting through. Onwards and upwards, no matter what.

“What, again?” Gansey replies.

Gansey looks like shit, so Ronan tells him so instead of answering. 

He also looks like a king, handsome and regal and untouchable. He also looks like a boy, young and soft around the edges, like how ink fades with time. He also looks like everything Ronan has ever believed in, like a room in Monmouth Manufacturing and driving to the Barns and chasing down Glendower and needing help with Latin, like the gasoline-lit curve of his mouth saying the difference is we matter / dream me the world / ronan, like Ronan’s name is somehow worth holding safe in his mouth.

Ronan does not tell him any of those things.

“It’s hard to meet the standards for male beauty without juice,” Gansey remarks.

Adam says that Ronan isn’t as honest as he says he is; that telling the truth is not the same as being honest, and that Ronan might not lie, but that’s not the same thing. He says this a lot, in various ways, but especially he says it when Ronan is looking at Gansey, and Adam is watching the way they move around each other.

He’s probably right. Otherwise Ronan would tell Gansey that there’s no version of him that isn’t beautiful, and not just because of his inherited pretty face and nice clothes. It’s the kind of knowledge that just is, the sort of thing you live with and learn to move around, like how a punch to the chest leaves an ache throbbing through your entire rib cage. Ronan is bruised with it, the knowledge of all Gansey is, how impossible and exquisite and fucking fundamental he is to Ronan’s continued existence.

“Sounds like a you problem, Dick,” Ronan replies. Gansey makes a face, always hearing the capital letter when Ronan says it, and Ronan grins at him, like always. It’s a routine, this; there is a rhythm to the way they co-exist, one that had been established prior to Ronan moving into Monmouth, but has only become more entrenched in their bones in the time since. “We could get some more.”

Gansey considers this. It’s a common occurrence, these two a.m. juice runs. It’s a wonder they never realised Noah was fucking dead, honestly, considering he never came with them but never gave any indication of sleeping either.

Then again, rituals leave little room for doubt, and nights like this are a ritual for them. They always have been, even before Monmouth, and Niall Lynch’s death, and Ronan forgetting how to smile without his mouth turning into a knife. Ronan-and-Gansey, always up against the world together, whether it be ley lines and dead fathers or an inability to sleep and a lack of acceptable beverage options.

There aren’t many things Ronan relies on. Richard Gansey III—all the versions of him, including his annoying Congresswoman’s son one, and the one that holds all the wild burning pieces inside him so the other Ganseys may remain contained and safe for consumption, and the one he has right now, this teenage boy with grand goals and hair mussed from tossing and turning on his pillow before he gave up—is one of them.

Nights like this, with the Henrietta air sweet with past rain and no fucking juice in the fridge but four of Blue’s favourite yoghurt for some goddamn reason and Gansey right beside him, are another.

“Okay,” Gansey says finally, pressing his knee a little deeper into Ronan’s in a bump of warmth and acknowledgement and something that burns quietly in that part of Ronan’s chest he does his best not to name. “Let’s go get some juice.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, parents!au, a child)

You and dad!Jeno waited by the door of the kindergarten classroom as families began making their ways back home. The teachers smiled at the two of you as your daughter came bounding toward both of you with her comically large backpack bouncing up and down. She gave you both an excited squeal with a large smile.

As she kissed your cheek in greeting, Jeno helped her take off her backpack before scooping her up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek of her own. "Hey princess, how was your day?" Jeno asked her as you all walked back to the car.

She smiled and began recounting the details of the day. She told you about the snacks they ate, her lunch, the castle she built with the blocks, "and I played soccer with Hana and Ara and Jae!"

You climbed into the passenger seat as Jeno strapped her into her booster seat. His deft moving fingers froze. He knew all about Hana and Ara, they were her best friends, but who was Jae? And since when did your daughter play soccer? "Is Jae a new friend, baby?" You asked and Jeno tugged on the straps of her car seat to make sure she was secure.

Jeno climbed behind the wheel and started the car as your daughter responded, "yes! He's new to the class! His dad is a fighter fighter and his mom writes books!"

"He?! Jae is a boy?" Jeno asks with wide eyes, looking at his daughter through the rearview mirror.

He can see his daughter's tiny face blush as she hides her face, "He's my friend! And he's cute!"

You laugh, reaching back to give her knee a gentle squeeze as Jeno internally freaks out. "No! No! Boys can't be cute! Boys are stinky!" Jeno responds.

"Not Jae! Only you Appa!" His daughter argues back.

"Appa doesn't stink! You know what? I'm going to your school and I'm going to pop Jae's soccer ball!"

"No!" Your daughter whines as she kicks her legs out, hitting the back of Jeno's seat, "He shares with me! He's nice! And you're too big for my class."

"I'm gonna sneak in like a ninja when you have nap time and I'm going to eat all his snacks too!" Jeno sassily responds, eyes on the road.

The girl kicks the seat as she whines and you lightly smack his forearm, "stop it, you're being mean to her."

He can hear his daughter groan, "yeah! You're being mean to me! And Jae!"

Jeno sighs, pulling up the driveway, 5 years old and she was already stressing him out. "Fine, but he can only be your friend, got it?"

She scoffs and crosses her arms across her chest. When Jeno goes to get her out of the car, she refuses his help and whines for you instead. Jeno grumbles under his breath as he follows the two of you into your home with a sparkly backpack in hand.

He watches the two of you smile and giggle to each other and keeps hearing Jae's name come up. He watches you smother her with affection as you both laugh and you both make your way to her room. When he walks by a few minutes later he can hear his daughter tell you she wants to wear a pretty dress tomorrow and she wants braids in her hair again because Jae told her they were cool.

Jeno runs a hand down his face tiredly, this was only the beginning. He thought it would be years until he heard the b word, boyfriend, be used, not a week later. Then he seriously considers sneaking into his daughter's school and popping all the soccer balls.

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[kedreeva]

For the past 2 days I have been back and forth with a person that runs a rooster sanctuary, after they posted an infographic about how hatcheries deal with male chicks that was WILDLY inaccurate and incendiary and CLEARLY made by an ARA group. I've had to explain that when you see "asphyxiation" as a euthanization method, it means "they used CO2" not throwing LIVE chicks into dumpsters out back by the thousands to suffocate to death (which is what ARAs love to say every US farm is doing), and that when you see language like "their brothers" this is VERY SPECIFIC propaganda from ARA groups attempting to anthropomorphize animals in your mind. It's 100% meant to invoke the idea of the human bonds often formed between siblings, the familial bonds chickens do not have any concept of.

The conversation ended shortly after I said more than 1 in a million males is needed for breeding purposes (another claim made), and I'm like 99% sure they aren't pulled from the sale stock anyway, they're selected at the breeding facility, and they responded with that actually only one male is needed for every million hens because, and I quote: "The eggs and sperm are collected in a common trough that feeds into a bucket. Water is added to the eggs and sperm to induce fertilization. The excess sperm, ovarian fluid, and blood are rinsed away. The fertilized eggs are gently poured into an incubator tray."

and I had to inform them that they were copy pasting from a first search result on google, and that it was from a SALMON FISHERY.

Anyway. ARAs continue to be fear-mongering fools who will say anything with little to no research if it means they can get a knee-jerk reaction from someone that doesn't know better.

[anadiasmount]

learned from the best - jb blurb

quick sum: jude can’t help but thank the best teacher he’s ever had. the one who taught him the language he wants to ever share and speak with you.

“tu español a mejorado bastante,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek, letting your lips linger for a few seconds. you were sat on his lap, jude looking up and rubbing his hand on your thigh “no pensé que ibas hacer eso mi amor.” (your spanish has gotten better… i didn’t think you’d do that, my love.)

“le quería enseñar a todos lo tanto que eh aprendido,” he says cheeky making you roll your eyes at his demeanor. “además era el momento perfecto, no crees?” he raises his brow as you watch in amusement, jude still a bit tipsy from the drinks he had. (i wanted to show everyone how much i have learned… also, it was the perfect time, don’t you think?)

“gracias por ser la mejor maestra que eh tenido,” jude smirks feeling your tiny slap on the side of his head. “solo lo dices por los recompensas que te daba después,” you squint your eyes while having a straight smile, yet having the urge to laugh. (thank you for being the best teacher i’ve ever had… you’re only saying that because of the rewards i gave you after…)

“in all seriousness, thank you. i wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. i know i was a pain in the ass most of the times, and you pushed me more than anyone else, but in the end you taught me a new language. your native language, and i can see how much that means to you,” jude says. “and now it means so much to me…”

“entonces eso significa que ahora vas a hablar con mi familia el español en la casa?” you deadpanned, jude’s face dropping as he shook his head immediately, frantic about your suggestion. “ah no…” jude chuckled nervously, “i learned but i haven’t perfected it pretty girl. not just yet, i want them to be amazed,” he kisses your hand, over the small “j” charm on your bracelet. (so that means you’ll finally talk to my family in spanish at home?)

“i guess that’s fair…”

“i want our kids to learn spanish though,” jude says seriously, making your heart race at his topic of kids. the whole day he spent appreciating, thanking, carrying kids, including his teammates new baby that had your heart fluttering with nerves but overall joy. “you mean it?” your eyes soften knowing that no matter if he’s drunk off his ass or sober he serious about it. serious about you, his future that involves you.

“cien por ciento. yo quiero una familia grande contigo. y que nos hijos hablen español,” he stutters nervously, yet it brings small tears in your eyes. “aras mi madre la mujer más feliz del mundo,” you joke, making him laugh. (one hundred percent. i want a big family with you. and that our kids speak spanish… you’ll make my mother the happiest woman in the world.)

“y tu? tu también serás la mujer más feliz del mundo?” jude asks resting his head on your shoulder. tired from the blissful game, the traveling, celebrating, yet for you, he felt more alive than anything. he pictured his future exactly like this, you on his lap, watching your babies play on the pitch, their giggles making the both of you grateful. (and you? will you also be the happiest woman in the world?)

“ya lo soy,” you whisper, brushing your hand on his forehead and placing a kiss. (i already am…)

“te amo, mi amor,” jude says with a tiny accent that has you laughing happily. you would never ever take for granted how since learning those two words, he used them anytime and anywhere. (i love you, my love…)

“y yo más.” (and i more.)

[azsazz]

Lavender Haze

Rhysand x Rhysand's Sister's Best Friend/Virgin!Reader

Summary: Having a crush on your best friends older brother isn't ideal. Especially when he has one back.

Warnings: Flirting, sexual taunting and begging.

Word Count: 3,065

Belongs to the timeline and predates Clandestine Love

_________________________________________

“Where’s Ara?” you ask your dinner mate as Einar places a steaming dish before you. The savory scents of the herbs he used on the fresh meat fill your senses, and your mouth waters at its deliciousness. Vegetables swim in a thick cream sauce that looks all too delectable, and the mound of cut potatoes doused in flavor has your jaw tingling. You simply cannot wait to dig in, only able to keep yourself from diving straight into your dinner as the family cook replenishes your half drank glass of sparkling fae wine. “Thank you, Einar.”

The chef dips his head in response then spins on his heel, quickly leaving the room. A bite of guilt pinches your stomach as you watch the green-skinned, normally bright-eyed fae stalk back to the kitchen to prepare dessert. It’s not like Rhysand is that much like his father. While his personality and aura tend to lean to the more arrogant side, it’s usually attributed to the fact that he is a young, confident male, eager to bask in all of the indulgences son of the High Lord is offered.

Said male sita across from you, pinning you to your seat with searing violet eyes. His spine is rigid and his fingers are curled tightly around his utensils as he watches your gaze follow the chef scurrying from the room.

He wants to fire him, no matter how delicious his food is.

Rhysand doesn’t have a right to feel this way. He doesn’t like the rage that coils his stomach, that lights his bones on fire when your soft eyes meet those of any other male in the court. Ever since you’d worked up the courage to kiss him all those months ago, it had ignited something inside of him even he couldn’t seem to make sense of. He shouldn’t be feeling this conflicted over his little sister's best friend of all people, but even he couldn’t ignore your otherworldly beauty, the musical laughter he always ached to hear, feel those gorgeous eyes roaming down his body while you thought his attention was elsewhere. 

The following months after that fateful night had been spent in the Illyrian camps, avoiding you. He’d tried occupying his mind with training or drinking with Azriel and Cassian until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have your lips pressed against his own, your breasts pressed against his chest, and your scent burrowing so deeply into his soul he might never forget it. 

You couldn’t be drowned by any female nor male he fell into bed with since. Rhys, as sick as it might be to admit it, had resorted to imagingin his partners were you when he couldn’t seem to get off. Horrible, he knows, but you’ve planted that seed and his feelings are an overgrown slew of vines, constricting his inner being.

And now you’re here, across from him. And he’s here, alone with you. And Ara is not here like she should be and his mother isn’t here to form a buffer and his father is away doing Mother knows what and Cassian and Azriel aren’t here to tell him how horrible this idea is, or how if he’d only fuck you it would get these feelings out of his system, at least, the former of the two would say.

Rhysand is in a dangerous situation right now.

He forces his body to relax, slumping back in his seat with the vanity only the prince of Night can convey. Masking his face into something a little more open—a little more nice—he stalls, cutting into the meat on his own plate. Blood spurts as he takes his knife to it, and Rhysand has to force himself from imagining it to be a certain chef's blood instead. “Mother whisked her into the city for dinner.”

“So it’s only you and I?” you blush, stabbing a potato with your fork. It has been so long since you’d last seen Rhysand, and it seems the few months he’s been away have made him even more handsome than you remember, even if his skin looks a little paler from the blistering winters in the mountains and the drink he hasn’t let up on since.

“It seems so,” Rhys answers, chewing.

“And no one else,” you murmur, almost breathless as your heart begins to race in your chest at the thought of what you and him could be getting into all alone, if he hadn’t decided to run from you. 

Rhysand quirks a brow, looking down the table as if looking for someone else, and replies, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Asshole,” under your breath, and Rhys fails to bite back his smirk. Both of you fall silent as you eat, only the sounds of your hammering heart and utensils filling the void in the luxurious dining room. You’re not sure how the family doesn't feel lonely like this, eating at the table built for an army. You can’t even hear Einar shuffling about in the kitchen, no clanging of pans or low curses if he creates something his perfectionist self doesn’t deem a ‘creation of the Gods.’

You can’t help but to glance at Rhysand, drinking in the sight of him. His straight nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow as he places a spoonful of vegetables and cream sauce in his mouth. His thick lashes are dark, so dark it looks like he’s let Ara around him with some of her kohl again. They’re long as well, brushing the apples of his cheeks when he looks down at his plate, and you’re envious of them.

Too long you’ve gone without seeing him. The most dramatic male you’ve ever set your sights on, running from you after you’d finally worked up the courage after months of pining to kiss him. It was after Ara had fallen asleep and you found yourself on the balcony, gazing up at the stars, his company warm and welcoming.

It had been everything to you then, the confidence you felt, the rush of adrenaline as you caught him off guard, the feel of his lips against yours, soft still, even if they were wind-chapped from the long flight. He hadn’t reacted, you hadn’t given him the time to, yanking yourself back just as quickly as you leaned in and running off to Araphel’s room, your mind screaming at you that it had been a horrible idea.

But you couldn’t ignore the emotions spilled between the both of you, the times where his hand had brushed yours or his touch lingered too long when he’d muse your hair, stroking the shell of your ear. You couldn’t ignore the heated looks Rhys shot you every time you spoke to another male, nor the way he always found an excuse to interrupt you, guiding you away from them with a large hand on the small of your back.

And maybe it was your silly little heart for wanting him. For crushing on your best friend's older brother who exudes confidence and can have any female in the court he wants. Any female on the continent, even.

The silence is damning, though, and you wish you could be how you were the night you’d kissed him, sanguine and bright with the idea that this could be your true love's first kiss. Of course, the fleeting press of his lips was enough to solidify many things for you, but you’d been unsure about Rhysand’s feelings on the matter, and by the time you’d found the courage to talk to him about what had happened, he’d already fled back to the mountains.

You’d kissed plenty of males since then, dragging Ara for nights out at Rita’s because Rhysand and his friends always raved about it. A part of you thought that he might walk in and see you in another male's arms, tear you away like the warrior-prince he is, but sadly, it hadn’t happened. 

And you have to say that you’re more than a little confused. He’d been blatantly glaring at Einar while the chef served your food. Had he heard about the kiss you shared with the young chef when Donan hadn’t allowed Araphel permission to go out one night and you spent it with the staff the High Lord kept around the house? It was all for a silly drinking game, but the green-skinned fae’s cheeks had been bright pink after the both of you stumbled back from the pantry, lips bruised and eyes shining bright with liquor. Maybe he had overheard some of the handmaiden's gossipping about it after all these weeks? Or maybe, the darkness always knows.

Now, the both of you are here, alone, staring at each other over the delectable meals prepared by the chef you’ve tasted once before. It hadn’t been anything like the peck you’d shared with Rhysand. In that millisecond of the brushing of your lips your world had shifted, body set alight with shooting stars and setting free the wild butterflies in your stomach. 

He has that glint in his eyes, the same one he always gets when he’s watching you, the one that heats your very core. And as you chew the potatoes in your mouth, you muster that confidence into yourself once more.

You will it into the marrow of your bones, rolling your shoulders as you prepare yourself to get exactly what you want. If there is no one here to interrupt, then the stage is set.

“Whoops,” you feign, allowing a drip of cream sauce to slip off the end of your utensil on the way to your mouth. It lands on the bare skin between the plunging fabric of your dress, and you catch Rhysand tracking the movement as you reach for your napkin to dab at your skin. “Spilled a little.”

Rhysnad hums, “You should be more careful, darling. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours, now would you?”

“No,” you agree, ever the dream of poised elegance. You pop a vegetable into your mouth, chewing for a moment, before continuing. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my dress at all. But, if it’s meant to be, I can always have another one made.”

In that moment, you know you’ve got him. The stars in his violet eyes wink out as darkness settles in, pinning you to your chair. His look sends a shiver up your spine and you know that he is no longer hungry for the food plated before him.

Rhysand flares his wings a little and bites back a curse. For too long he’s been living at the Illyrian camps. There’s no one here he has to compete with for your attention, no one he needs to show off his wingspan to, though, by the way that your half-lidded eyes trace across the membranous skin of them, perhaps he’ll flare them wide when you’re beneath him.

It’s a line that he hasn’t crossed with you yet, one that he promised himself that he wouldn’t. You’re his little sister’s best friend for Mother’s sake, not just another female simpering after him because of his familial ties. You’re…much more than that, and he shouldn’t be thinking about crawling across this fucking table and licking that cream off of your chest and burying his head between your breasts.

“Meant to be,” he echoes, and you hum, tilting your head back with the motion. The exposed skin of your neck calls to him, even more so when you swipe a finger, capturing the sauce and popping it into your mouth to suck on. Your cheeks hollow exaggeratedly, and his cock strains painfully in his pants. He growls your name, a tenor of darkness that curls through your body like the icey patches of snow on the way into the city.

“What was that Rhys?” you ask, batting your eyelashes now. The meal in front of you is long forgotten, your hunger for this male insatiable. The way Rhysand makes you feel, despite only sharing a whisper of a kiss, well, you think you could be mates someday. “Did you need something?”

“I need you to stop doing that before I come over there and make you stop myself.”

You moan a little, legs falling wide under the table. “I think I might like that, though.” 

Rhysand’s nostrils flare as he drinks in the scent of your arousal, thick between your thighs.

“You’re supposed to be a Lady, darling. Who taught you to speak like that?” he purrs, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the table. You know that he’s only doing it to try and dispel the tension leaking from his body. You can scent it in the air, the raw, heady smell of him that threatens to send you right to your knees.

“You,” you moan in response. You can feel him creeping into your mind, watching. Waiting.

“And you always listen to your superiors, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” you hiss, squirming in your seat as those black claws of his rake gently across your mind. Your fingers curl around the arms of your chair, your spine arching at the soft caress. “Rhys, please…I need you to touch me.” 

It’s a simple request, one he’s always indulged you in.

In a moment he’s gone from his chair only to appear behind you, winnowing far faster than stalking around the edge of the table to reach your seat.

He looms over you like a touch of darkness crowding you in, and you revel in it. The hue of his eyes is a dangerous violet, set with lightning striking in the distance instead of stars. It lights you up, your breath turning faster, the beating of your heart thunderous in the silence of the dining room. 

You can see the war in his eyes when you tilt your head back, resting it on the back of your chair. You press your breasts out a little, and watch with rapt attention as his eyes flicker down the front of your dress before he rips them away, the line of his mouth tightening at your hidden tease of a smile.

In your head, late at night, you’ve touched him; a hand around his silky, long cock, mouth pressed to his desperately, too. He’s tasted your slick on his tongue, reveled in it, hardly able to hold himself back from crawling up your body and fucking you how he wanted.

But you’ve never had sex before, and as much as you want to, as much as you’ve tried, Rhysand has been holding back.

Maybe it’s because he’s nervous to cross that line with you. You’re his little sisters best friend for fucks sake, and he’s going to be High Lord someday. Sure, he’s slowly making his way through the camp girls, trying not to grunt your name when he fucks into them, because you’re never far from his mind. 

Maybe it’s because he’s scared, if his sister or father ever found out. Araphel might be happy for the both of you. It’s a thought he has less often than the opposite, if she’s upset that he’s stealing one of her only true friends, and he doesn’t want that. 

Maybe he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself back.

Your name is a growl on his lips. A warning, one you don’t have it in you to heed. So you go with your next best idea, taunting.

“I guess I’ll have to drag Ara down to the city when she gets back then,” you say with a sad sigh. You pick up your fork and force your eyes from Rhysand’s burning ones. You shrug a little, spearing vegetables with your fork. “Fuck whatever male I come across there.”

Rhysand is hardly able to hold himself back from baring his teeth. He won’t allow that, ever.

You can feel the tension roiling in his body as he stands at your back, his food long forgotten. You’re not faring much better with the ache pulsing between your legs and the dinner that’s turned to mush in your mouth. 

“I’ll turn any male that touches you to mist.”

“Are you planning on doing that to yourself, too?” you quirk a brow as you glance his way, faking your disinterest despite the way that your core goes molten at his words. 

Rhysands eyes darken in response, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Your words are working, you can see it in the way that he holds himself back, body nearly shaking at every thought you’re planting in his mind. You know he’s on the verge of cracking, that he wants this just as badly as you do, so you continue.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Would you fuck me then, Rhysand?” 

“What?” His voice takes on a dark tone, the stars winking out from his eyes.

“If I told you that chef Einar was the one to do it, to bend me over his worktop and fuck me, what would you say then, Rhys?” 

“I’d say you’re a liar. And that I’ll kill him either way.”

“If I spread my legs for him just like this,” you continue, leaning back in your seat and opening your thighs wide. His fingers ball into fists but he doesn’t move from his spot, still planted behind you, trying his best to ignore the way your scent hits him like a sword to the gut. “And let his hands roam down my body just like this—” You startle at the loud sound coming from the kitchen, pots falling to the floor in succession. It makes your hands that you’re dragging down your body falter, and before you can continue, your wrists are pinned in Rhysand’s harsh grip, his breath heavy against your throat.

“You should be very, very careful about what you’re going to say next, darling,” his growl sends your bones rattling, shivers wracking your spine. You wish it weren’t the harsh wood at your back but instead his warm body, holding you tight. 

“I want you to fuck me, Rhys,” you gasp, and it sounds like a desperate mewl. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Rhysand’s mouth is a whisper against your skin, a brand of night.

“If I’m going to fuck you, darling,” he purrs and your insides melt. “Everyone is going to know it.”

[bvidzsoo]

Black Ocean

Black Ocean is a series of 8 connected oneshots happening in the same universe. Are you ready to dive in the lives of eight notorious Pirates known as Ateez?

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Ateez members x female readers

Status: finished

A/N: I will start a taglist, so if you're interested, please comment on this post! Because this is a multi-chaptered series of oneshots, the female readers will be given names which will be used only if they get mentioned in a different members oneshot. You can read them as stand-alones, however, some happenings from previous oneshots will be mentioned here and there, so everything will be connected still. (divider)

1.Park Seonghwa

◆Compass of our hearts

Summary: Park Seonghwa was an orphan. The day Captain Kim found him on the shore the only thing he had with himself in the little basket was a golden compass, his mother's name craved inside it. Seonghwa cherished it dearly and worked hard to find out where he belonged to. However, as a pirate, you make a lot of enemies and you decided to make Seonghwa yours the day you stole his compass. It was your first mistake, you messed with a feared pirate. Your second mistake was not realizing that Seonghwa would find you, and take his compass back as well. (Reader is called Kim Bora in the following oneshots.)

2.Choi Jongho

◆Lullaby of the seas

Summary: Choi Jongho could be described as a dreamer; he loved folklore and fairytales. His father was a sailor and often brought his son out on the sea with himself, thus they lived off of selling fish and pearls. Jongho was well raised and always kind, a very hard-working son, therefore it came as no surprise that he accepted the job offer of a mysterious pirate when his father's house got destroyed by a storm. Jongho was quiet and didn’t bother others, did his job very well and secretly fantasized about meeting a mermaid one day. There was one tiny problem though, the seas they sailed had no mermaids in them, only vicious sirens out for the blood of unassuming pirates and sailors. (Reader is called Sunmi in the following oneshots.)

3.Choi San

◆An Imprisoned Nightingale

Summary: Choi San was everything you needed him to be. A hunter? He’d hunt down anything for you. An assassin? You wanted someone dead, he’d do it. An inside man? That information you needed; he’d bring it to you. He was a mercenary. Ruthless, fearless, uncaring, unfeeling. All he dreamed of was money and power. Everyone who heard his name feared him, people stepped aside on a busy road for him, women never approached him out of fear of being captured and then sold by him. You loved singing, despite working as a waitress, you dreamed of performing on a stage one day. Your whole life you've worked hard, knowing that one day you'll be discovered and your life would change; you'd become a performer for the wealthy. And your life did change, but instead, you became a prisoner, soon to be sold off by nobody else than Choi San. (Reader is called Im Ara in the following oneshots.)

4.Kim Hongjoong

◆The Nightfury

Summary: When Captain Kim died Hongjoong was only fifteen years old. He couldn't let his father's name go in vain, he took over the ship and became the next Captain Kim, better known as The Slayer. Everyone feared Hongjoong and his crew, Ateez. Everyone except you. You met in an Inn when you both were younger and tricked him into threatening an innocent man, and then you robbed him. You thought it was funny how such a powerful and feared man was so easy to play with, so you started your little game of sabotaging Hongjoong's affairs, unknowing that you were playing with fire. Would The Nightfury or The Slayer win once their swords clashed against each other? (Reader is called Lee Yuri in the following oneshots.)

5.Jeong Yunho

◆Irrevocable Love

Summary: Jeong Yunho was always protective of what was his. After his mother's death he stopped living a happy life, his father an alcoholic, his best friend was his only hope. The two of you had grown up together and you couldn't imagine living your life without Yunho, so when he tried to sneak onto the Pirate ship and leave without you, you were beyond hurt. Yunho only wanted to protect you, but he wasn't going anywhere without you. And so, the two of you joined Ateez on their adventures, starting your own love story at the same time. (Reader is called Bae Taeri in the following oneshots.)

6.Kang Yeosang

◆Salty tears, agog whispers

Summary: Kang Yeosang was forced to flee from his once very familiar life as he killed his father. He didn't mean to do it, but he harmed his mother and Yeosang just couldn't sit and watch anymore. You have never had an easy life. You were sold off at a young age, then bought, then sold, then bought again and sold again. It was a neverending cycle. You were just a toy for men to use and then disregard of; you wanted to disappear. And one man almost granted your wish, he killed you, or so he thought...and so did you. But an angel, a kind-hearted man, saved you from your terrible fate. You found a family, just like he did so many years ago. Yeosang was your angel. (Reader is called Jung Hana in the following oneshots.)

7.Jung Wooyoung

◆Heavy is the head that wears the crown

Summary: Jung Wooyoung was a prince. Raised to be a King one day. Except that nobody asked him if he wanted to become one, it was his duty. Wooyoung thought he'd be able to travel the world, sail out and go on adventures, however that is just not how his story was written. So, one day, when he was only thirteen years old, he decided to take the pen in his own hands and change his own story. He became a Pirate. You, you were also a princess, soon to become Queen. Your groom disappeared when the two of you were thirteen and you figured you wouldn't get married now, so there was no reason to stay at your castle and live a boring life. You ran away, living quietly and humbly. That is, until Wooyoung came stumbling through your living room door. (Reader is called Oh Haneul in the following oneshots.)

8.Song Mingi

◆Fine Line Of Our Worlds

Summary: Song Mingi didn't choose to become a Pirate, but after getting saved by the crew, he decided to stay. Nobody at home would miss him, they didn't like him much. However, he would miss his riches dearly, teeth always aching for gold and money. He was a little kleptomaniac, it's mostly why he was punished so often back at home. But here, with Ateez, he was free to do whatever and he loved the idea. You were also rich, very rich. You had ties to the royal family, but never said much about it since it was due to your mother's bloodline, who died giving birth to you. You were daddy's little girl, always getting whatever you wanted, never reprimanded for anything. But your life was boring, you were closed inside your mansion's walls all day long and the only people you could torment to have fun were your maids, who grew tired of your antics. Let's not forget the fact that you also loved stealing. It started out as a little talent of yours when you were just a child, but growing up you realized it became a very unconscious habit. And one night, Mingi seemed to come into your life just at the right moment, sweeping your off your feet, quite literally, and taking you onto a Pirate ship, your fates interlacing forever. (Reader is called Yoon Areum in the following oneshots.)

[mezzy-1]

Learning Their Language (Valorant X Reader)

The protocol is about as international as it gets, and although most of them are bilingual there can be a bit of a language barrier.  You and your S/O decided to practice a bit of their native language so you could.  (I’m bilingual in Spanish so everything else me actually learning words, so it may not sound like a native speaker).  Like, reblog, and comment pls :) Special thank you to @darthladyofillusions for help translating the Turkish and Japanese!

Gekko - Spanish 

“Oye Y/N, que onda?” Gekko asked as he entered the lounge and sat next to you on the sofa

“Nada, estoy ehh… I’m just sitting here. I don't really know how to say that yet…” you trailed off with a bit of a weak laugh 

“Y/N, don’t worry about it.  It’s good that you can understand when I’m saying hi.”

“But I want to know more…”  you paused and looked at him, then an idea struck

“You could teach me, you and I spend so much time together and it isn’t like it would be studying in school.”

Gekko stared back at you for a couple of seconds and then sat up quickly

“I’d totally teach you Spanish Y/N!”  His excitement matched yours, and a wide grin spread across his face

A few weeks went by between you and him doing the basics of Spanish.  Practicing phrases for callouts helped a lot for the field, but even simple responses like ‘de acuerdo’ or ‘un poquito’ became more common for you

During a particularly slow day, Brimstone called a meeting.  Gekko and you sat together as usual

Part way through the meeting, Gekko whispered ‘Creo que vamos a morir en esas sillas.  Seremos esqueletos secos cuando Brim esta terminado.’

You understood his joke clearly and stifled your laughter the best you could.  Gekko had made a habit of telling jokes in Spanish for only you and him

Unless of course Reyna was in the room, at which point she’d join in.  Reyna’s Spanish was quicker than when Gekko spoke to you, but you had learned to pick out a few words

“Dime Gekko, ¿qué quieres comer anoche?  We got some skirt steaks in so we can make some ar-achera.” you looked over at Gekko, a puzzled expression on his face

“Como?  Que dijiste Y/N”

“Arachera?...”

“You aren’t rolling the R in ‘arrachera’ right.  Say it like this: Arrr-A-che-Ra.”

“Ar. A! Ara!”  You tried to pronounce it the same way he did but just weren’t used to making that sound

“Well do you have any advice on how to roll an R?”

“Just put your tongue on the roof of your mouth.” he replied, taking a step closer to you while you tried to pronounce it correctly

“Como eso amor.” he leaned in and kissed you softly 

“On the top of the mouth, Y/N.  If you can kiss, you should have no problems with saying it right.”

“Fue incredible…” you whispered as he pulled back.  Gekko was blushing as much as you were and giggled quietly

The rest of the evening was spent grilling, cutting vegetables, and making crude jokes in Spanish

Wingman nearly ran away with some of the plated arepas you and him had made.  After rescuing them, you had your dinner together

“Oye Mateo,” 

He looked up mid bite 

“I never got to thank you for how much you’ve done for me.  Muchísimas gracias a todos.  Y tu sabes eso, pero te amo.  Eres mi querido.” you worried you sounded too much like a telenovela but caught Gekko smiling

“De nada Y/N.  Eres el amor de mi vida  también.”

Chamber - French 

“Bonsoir Y/N, ça va?”  Chamber called to you from behind right as you entered the workshop 

“I don’t know what you just said Vincent.  I can only understand when you speak English.”

“But Y/N, you could learn.  After all, you’d have the finest tutor in all of France to teach you.”  Chamber moved closer and looked over your shoulder as you began to disassemble a pistol

“You’d actually teach me?” you asked, trying to fight the urge to turn around and meet him face to face

“Certainly Y/N.  For two people to share a language is a wonderful thing.  They work better together and they become so much closer”

His offer got the better of you, and you relented.  You turned to face him as he stood up and met your stare

“I’ll do it then.  Especially if it means we can spend a little more time together.”

Chamber adjusted his glasses and smiled.  “Magnifique Y/N.”

For the next couple of weeks you met with Chamber whenever you could.  Lessons tended to be something you looked forward to

“Non, non, Y/N.  It would be a travesty for you not to assist on le mission.  Je m’ennuie à mourir sans toi.  Tu es beaucoup trop amusant pour partir.”  

“Je le pense aussi, but do you think I’d just get in the way?  I thought you’d be solo on this one.”

“Y/N,” Chamber affixed his glasses and studied your hesitancy, “J'adorerais ta compagnie Y/N.”

The mission was a strike on some Omega agents in the Pyrenees range.  After some light exercise and carefully placed shots, you and him retired to safehouse in the mountains

“Ah Y/N, puis-je vous offrir quelque chose à boire?  Txakoli ou Sauvignon Blanc?” Chamber lifted two bottles for you to decide on

“Je voudrais le blanc, s’il vous plait.” you added on extra politeness knowing it would impress Chamber.  Plus going with a French wine would make him proud

“A good choice,” he replied while pouring your glasses.  “Es-tu installé confortablement?”

“Oui, but I have to wonder why we have a wine selection at a safehouse.” you slyly asked.  Chamber gave you knowing glance

“Unless, someone went to great lengths for some time together.  Avez-vous prévu cela?”

“Peut-etre.” Chamber answered, feigning ignorance and peering at his wine glass.  His eyes mischievously darted to you

“You know…while I’ve been learning French, I never did learn how to say something I always wanted to learn.”

“Quoi?  And that would be?”  Chamber inched closer to you set his glass down

“Kiss me.” you answered, leaning towards him and gazing into his enthralling eyes

“Embrasse-moi.” Vincent whispered before taking his opportunity.  He held your head and kissed you gently

After a while, you found yourself resting across Chamber’s chest.  You looked up at the agent and caught him smiling down at you

“Je t’aime.” you quietly spoke

“Je t’aime aussi, Y/N.”

Fade - Turkish

It was getting late in the night and you were headed towards your room

“Hey, Y/N.”  Fade’s voice made you jump and you turned to see her leaning against the wall just out of sight

“Merhaba…” you groaned absent-mindedly.  The lack of sleep was finally catching up to you 

“What was that? Y/N Türkçe mi öğreniyorsun?” her typical scowl replaced with deep interest

“I mean, only a little.  I don’t know if I’ll keep doing it though.”

“...Well I could offer a few minutes every so often.  İlgini çeker mi?

“E-Evet.  Tesekkurler Fade!” despite your exhaustion, you still had trouble sleeping that night

The following couple of nights you spent in Fade’s room with a cup of tea and a few notes you scribbled down

Most of the practice was just chatting together about life at the protocol and the day to day

“… Üç saatlik sorguyu izlemem gerekti. Üç saat.”  Fade too a long sip of çay and laid back on a pillow

“Really, 3 hours and nothing?  That must have been boring.”

“Türkçe Y/N.” She chided

“Uzgunum!  Ne kadar sıkıcı!”  You quickly corrected yourself and adjusted your seat

“Anyways Y/N, Günün nasıldı?” Fade reclined back and trained her gaze on you

“Ughh, tipik.  Keşke yapacak daha çok şeyim olsaydı.” you lamented.  

“I can lend you a few books. İster misin?”  Fade picked a few hard cover books from her nightstand and offered them to you

Almost half asleep, you took one and looked it over the summary.  Despite the 

“Uykum geldi Hazal, I’m gonna head over to my…room.”  You yawned and drowsily made your way towards the door but fell asleep where you were. 

Fade moved over to you and placed on of her blankets over you.  She stood, captivated by how peacefully you slept

The following morning you woke up in her room and began to make your way to your own

“Günaydın.” Fade had caught you once more while you tried to quietly exit.  In her hands was the book she gave you last night

“Unuttum! Thank you for reminding me.” you took the book back and set it your room

You met Fade outside your room after your morning routine.  Both of you had the day off, so spent it together

You’d chat in Turkish about plans and privately made arrangements to meet together outside for çay after most of the protocol went to sleep

 Most of the day was gossipping in Turkish and sharing stories from before the protocol.  Fade’s were usually dramatic considering her history, yours were a little more uplifting

Once the moon was hanging over the headquarters, you crept quietly to the spot with freshly made çay 

“İyi akşamlar Y/N.” Hazal greeted you with a slight smile.  “Otur Y/N.”

Taking a seat next to her, you began to sip your tea and chat with Hazal about how much things had changed for the both of you since joining Valorant

By the time the tea was finished, you had your head rested on Hazal’s shoulder while she held your hand

A thought crossed your mind

“Hey Hazal, Türkçe’de…I love you, nasıl denir?” you grinned as the words left your mouth 

Her eyes drifted towards you and she raised an eyebrow.  Her green and blue eyes studied your growing apprehension

Without warning, she took hold of the back of your head and pulled you in close

Her kiss was impulsive and quick, and she held you gently as if trying to shield you from the surrounding darkness

When you broke the kiss, your face was flushed with surprise.  The night air felt twice as cool against the warmth in your cheeks

“Seni seviyorum, Y/N.” 

Yoru - Japanese

“Oi, Y/N, pass me the wrench.”  Yoru had his face buried in his bike as usual, and you were helping out and catching up

“Hai douzo…” you muttered.  Yoru grabbed a hold of it and began fastening something, then stopped

“Did you just speak fucking Japanese?” He sat up, almost hitting his head on the exhaust pipe and looked at you with suspicion

“I did, so what?” you replied.  Yoru was always saying something in Japanese, so you decided to learn what you could 

“And why did you decide to learn Japanese, out of all of the languages to learn?”  Yoru leaned on the bike

“ Betsu ni.” you shot back nonchalantly before folding your arms and smugly grinning at Yoru

“Well you’re sort of shit at it.”  Yoru enjoyed the sudden embarrassment and doubt you felt before making his final move

“Komatta koto ga attara kike ne.  Just make sure your questions aren’t annoying.  Wakatta?”  His attempt to seem uncaring was outweighed by his offer

A few weeks went by of you and Yoru throwing barbs at each other in Japanese or just exchanging short phrases

“Yoru-kunnn…” you purred.  It was just you and him in the locker rooms and you were being a little adventurous with new honorifics

“Y/N.  Ima nan to itta?”  Yoru twisted around with a scowl forming while one eyebrow lifted

“Oh, nothing.  Trying out some more words, Yoru-kun!” 

Yoru took a deep breath and sighed.  

“It’s dumb as hell to use that outside of Japan.  Nobody uses it outside of businessmen trying to kiss someone’s ass and people who don’t know better.”

“Ja dou yobou ka?”  If he wasn’t gonna use it, you’d go with something else to call him.

“Ore no namae de kimatteru da.  Same as you Y/N.” Yoru began combing his hair and dressing into some casual clothing

“Fine then, I’ll use something else.  Yatsu work for you?”

Yoru was almost proud of you for that

“Anata wada warugaki.”

More weeks passed by with you learning some more obscenities from Yoru.  His days of crime taught him an assortment of terms you eagerly applied to your own learning

Soon, you and him were assigned to break into a building and sabotage some equipment

Once you were done, you and Yoru were free to enjoy yourselves 

“Got any plans for us Y/N?”

“Tokunai nai.”

“Good.  Come with me then.”  He pushed past you and grabbed your hand.  Before you knew it you were traveling through his rift

Suddenly, you found yourself on a rooftop overlooking the city.  Yoru teleported behind you holding some bags and taking a seat on the ledge

“Come on Y/N, food’s gonna get cold.”

“Arigatuo Ryo.” 

Steam drifted from the udon as you held it for warmth against the cold night.  Yoru took notice and moved closer without a word

“Hey Yoru, Kisusuru no mi wa nandesu?” you asked while resting your head on his shoulder

Yoru froze for a second, you felt him tense his arm ever so slightly.  His eyes moved over to you and a small smirk began to form on his face

“Mou ikkai ie, Y/N.”

Beginning to answer, “Kisusuru no-” 

Yoru pressed his lips to yours and passionately kissed you.  It was as if he had been waiting an eternity to do it 

Your arm snaked around his waist and he did the same to you.  Warmth from him eased your shivering against the wind

He broke off the kiss and gazed into your eyes.  You couldn’t tell if the blushing was coming from excitement or the cold

“Imi wa kore da yo.  But do you know the meaning of aishiteru, Y/N?”

“Anata no koto daisuki.” left your mouth instinctively

Yoru and you watched the lights of the city together for the rest of the night

Sova - Russian 

“Horosho Y/N, excellent marksmanship!” Sova’s applause was worth every extra hour  of practice at the range

“It was your advice that helped the most.  Thank you again for the lessons!” Sova took your rifle as you thanked him 

“Sova, I have a bit more to ask.  Just a little favor, but only if you feel like it!” you instantly realized how much you were over clarifying

“You always have my help, Y/N.  What is it you would like?”

“Can you teach me some Russian?  I always hear you speaking it and I thought it would be fun to learn it.” 

“That would be wonderful!” Sova’s eyes lit up in excitement.  Later he brought you a small book, a Russian language manual

“I had a few books delivered here from the mainland.  Vam eto nravitsya?”

“Konechno, spasibo!” you quickly thanked him with the Russian you had practiced

You and Sova took turns trying out words in conversation.  It was a little intimidating, but his encouragement got you through the embarrassment

“Kharoshaya rabota!” “Vpechatlyayushchaya!” “Chudesnyy!” 

You and him started to meet for occasional chats in Russian, usually starting with a compliment on something 

This eventually continued over into missions, where you and him would use Russian because it was quicker

“Y/N!  Zaryadite seychas!” Sova yelled while aiming a recon arrow.  You stampeded in and dispatched the hostile agents with his help

After recovering from the fight, you and him were together in the lounge and chatting in a mixture of Russian and English

“Oh, I almost forgot!  Imeyte eto!” Sova passed you another book, a copy of your favorite book but in Russian print

“My mozhem prochitat' eto vmeste.”  Sova was softly smiling and seemed lost in how happy he had made you

You practically crushed him with a hug.  You buried your face into his sweater before pulling him onto the couch

Opening the book, you flipped through the pages to the front and found the start of the first chapter.  Noticing the cover was loose, you adjusted it and your eye caught something

In elegant cursive was written: ‘ya lyublyu tebya, Y/N’ hidden away under the cover.  Curious as to what it was, you asked Sova

“Ah, я ne dumal, chto ty skoro eto zametish'!” he was blushing and nervously twisted a strand of blonde hair

“Sova, chto eto znachit?” you asked, puzzled

“It means, I love you.  Ty dlya menya vse Y/N.” 

You decided to try some Russian you had learned for a moment just like this

“Potseluy menya.” you leaned in and Sova did as well

You placed the book down and embraced Sova.  He was warm, and the comfort you felt in his arms was akin to sitting near a fireplace

Sova’s kiss was strong, but gentle.  His calm demeanor and tendency to take his time made the moment seem to last forever

“Я tozhe tebya lyublyu.” you whispered into his ear

Neon - Tagolog

“Kamusta ka Y/N!” Neon’s infectious energy broke through the boredom of filing a battle report

“I’m alright,” you put the report down and figured it was complete enough, “what about you?”

“Just trying to kill time.  You still have the copy of that comic I lent you?  Phoenix wanted a copy so…”

Rummaging through the books on your shelf, you pulled a volume from the collection.  A few books fell as you did so

Neon immediately went to help you place them on her shelf started replacing them.  She suddenly paused

“Y/N, is this a Tagalog learning manual?” she turned over to you and held the book up 

“-uh, yeah it is.  I may have picked it up after we started spending more time together.”  A sheepish look was your only defense

“You could’ve just asked me to teach you.  I mean I could totally do that if you’re interested…” Neon’s hair was beginning to stand on end as she waited for a response

“O pakiusap.” 

For a few days, you and Neon met together for lessons.  Of course it was mainly her correcting a few phrases while the two of you went for a run or chatted

She’d also drop a few new words in every time, mostly whenever you couldn’t remember one 

On a late morning jog, you and her took a rest on some of the benches inside the gym and caught up

“Pagod ka na ba?” Neon was already stretching her legs and retying her shoes

“Ilang lap pa?” you sputtered out, still catching your breath.  You loved running with her, but she never got tired 

“Eh, who cares anyway.  Anong gagawin mo ngayong gabi?”  Neon asked, taking a moment to crack her shoulders and neck

“Bukas na ang gabi ko.” Normally you had a few plans with other agent, but tonight you were all hers

“Agh!” Neon winced.  “Y/N, you mind getting this one spot on my shoulder?  Sobrang sakit.”

“O Tala,” you took a seat behind her and felt around her back until you touched the knot.  You took your elbow and pressed into it 

A shock shot through your body and sent you tumbling backwards.  As you regained your composure, Neon’s panicked eyes caught yours

“Patawad Y/N!” Neon cried.  She carefully helped you to your feet and offered her water bottle 

“Huwag mag-alala, it happens.” you had been shocked a few times before and Neon was always worried about you

“I- patawarin mo ako.  I shouldn’t be around you Y/N.” she apologized profusely and sprinted away to her room

Hours passed and Neon hadn’t left her room.  By mid-evening, you decided that she had spent enough time alone and knocked on her door

“TALA!!  Buksan mo ang pinto!” 

The metal panels slide apart and you entered.  Huddled in on her bed was Tala, hiding under her hoodie

“You shouldn’t feel bad Tala, ayos lang ako?” you gestured to yourself to emphasize 

“Hindi ko mapigilang gawin ito.”  Neon’s regret clung to each word, as she dug herself deeper into her clothes

You decided to use a trick you had absolute faith in to get her out of the pit she found herself stuck in

Neon reacted with surprise as you suddenly held her and kissed her.  She froze, arms raising to keep you away

Wrapping your arms around her, you ran your hands over her back gently.  Neon melted into you, but broke the kiss 

“Y/N, I-.”

“Huwag kang mag-alala,” you interjected, “tumutok sa kung ano ang maaari nating kontrolin.”

Neon’s teary eyes were filled with a mix of hope and relief

“Salamat Y/N.  Paano ako makakabawi sayo?  Please, I can’t thank you enough!”

“Well, anong plano mo ngayong gabi?” you were going to make sure the night she planned didn’t go to waste

“I rented some movies, well Cypher pirated them for me.  Gusto mo silang panoorin magkasama?” she tapped finger nervously on her bed

“Of course!  Magugustuhan ko iyan!”  

With that, you and Neon spent most of the evening cuddled together in her room.  About half way through the second film, she leaned over to you and whispered

“Mahal kita Y/N.”

[hummingjay]

Random Replika headcanons because replikas are cute

Aras spend a lot of time crawling in vents, so their upper body strength is next level. They're also really good climbers. Also, when they do climb, they use overly smooth movements, like walking without bobbing up and down, mostly so they don't jarringly drop a tool on a belt, but this freaks others out. Some Aras find the smell of exhaust comforting, but not in the vents. It's like hearing bugs and animals in the forest: Comforting and safe-feeling in the forest, but a deer cry in the city is disconcerting. They also have excellent night vision, even though they carry flashlights. Kolibris are almost entirely immune to caffeine. Lots of sweet tea, so they're hyper which helps a heck-ton with keeping up with Storches and other taller fellas. Aras either love or hate hanging with them depending on the Ara or Kolibri, since on one hand Kolibris can get past their stoic demeanor and on the other Aras can't really keep to themselves. Uncannily good at close quarters combat, despite small stature. Goes for the crotch hard and often. They mainly use bioresonance for non-combat means, as overuse causes headaches and nosebleeds. If a kolibiri does try to kill with bioresonance, it is extremely painful for both parties, ending with ears, eyes, and nose bleeding, and sometimes so painful victims attempt ending themselves partly through. This usually only happens on accident, when a Kolibri is extremely unstable, Storches favorite drink is unironically water. I love water too so no hate. They like watching Aras climb since it reminds them of a spider, which they find cute, especially when Aras carry wire with them. In every cadre at least one (1) Starling has snorted gunpowder at one point. Both Starlings and Storches have built in ear protection for gunshots.

Elsters are also stoic and when given the chance hang out with Aras, sometimes only talking about mechanics. Because Eules are friendly, patient, and can read Aras faces, they eventually get close and an Ara may give access to vents or plants. This is the equivalent of a platonic (or not) wedding ring.

If an Ara decides you're unkind and shares this info with the cadre, it's not just a silent treatment. If you're mean enough, floors will come loose, doors will randomly malfunction, your service requests will remain unanswered just until Adler is about to file a performance complaint, and lights will randomly turn off. If anyone tries to bully a Mynah in any way will face consequences, severe ones. The culprit behind this could be literally anyone except Mynah, and consequences vary depending on the culprit, from ostracizing to being 'accidentally' locked in a room, to being straight up beaten up, and sometimes if the bullying is bad enough high ranking units will opt for decomissioning for 'disrupting workflow' and 'assault on a worker'. Once Storches get past their sadistic tendencies they're actually really fun to hang around and converse with, especially on literature on mythology and warfare. Odd fascination on Sisyphus but it's debated between Storches on wether he's happy or not. Adlers write and they write well. Handwriting on point, but they rarely write in cursive. Because they're sticklers for the rules not all Replikas like them too much, but as long as you comply with regulations they're relaxed guys who enjoy talking about writing and pens. Never insult a favorite pen. They will despise you. Debating pens in a general sense is admissible and often enjoyable. Insulting their Falke can and will have them legitimately attempt to murder you with whatever is on hand, always stating that a 'crime against the nation was committed'. Adlers can forgive protocol mistakes but never forgive such a sin. So long as performance is not hindered protocol breakages are permitted. Adlers are chill with replikas and even Gestalts having relationships with each other, and sometimes covers for them. If performance drops this can change. Each one writes fictional stories about an OC that they will never talk about but Kolibris and Falkes know about anyway. Often immune to propoganda but genuinely don't care, they legitimately love the nation enough that they're okay with whatever the nation is doing. Eules will go out of their way to be nice. If you out-nice them they can and will think of it as a challenge. They sometimes place freshmade food near the kitchen vents to let the Aras know it's time to eat. Eules will use ribbon to tie bows on each others hair and arms. Falkes quickly grow extremely protective of their workers, sometimes extending this fondness to gestalts, though they always let them work most grievances out on their own. If Aras grow similarly fond of their Falke they'll report back to her like Odin's ravens.

[lurkingshan]

My mind has been spinning and spinning around episodes 3 and 4, and I have so many feelings about them that I have been struggling to decide what I want to write about. One of @bengiyo's questions is about the different feel of this part of the story in the transition from page to screen, including the overall kdramafication effect, and I felt that most keenly where Hyung was concerned.

Let's start with the obvious: Hyung is not supposed to be this young and hot. But then, Young is not supposed to look like Nam Yoon Su, so I guess we can let that one go. More than that, though, I think episode 3 went out of its way to make Yeong Su a more appealing love interest than he ever seemed to be in the novel, and that had a clear purpose: to make the comedown in episode 4 so much worse.

Episode 3 used the familiar trappings of romance dramas to help us understand why Go Yeong was so drawn to this man despite some of his rough edges. They had interesting dates with good conversations. They shared an umbrella in the rain. They kissed sexily outside. They danced together in Yeong Su's (much nicer than described in the book) apartment. I may or may not have actually said OH MY GOD out loud when they were moving together to that old song; it was intoxicating in exactly the way early attraction is. Instead of viewing Hyung through the bitter recollections of Young's memory already knowing he's a bastard, we experienced him the way Go Yeong did when he was first catching his interest, and it was easy to see why he would latch onto this man as a balm and a distraction while he was going through a very hard time with his mother's illness.

Which means it hurt so much worse when Go Yeong emerged from that initial haze in episode 4 and realized who Yeong Su really was. He got a hard look at the deep internalized homophobia Yeong Su was carrying and projecting onto him, and it was not pleasant, nor was the way it echoed across his experiences with his mother.

Another interesting change made in the adaptation was to increase the severity of Hyung's crime; where in the novel he only searched and read articles on the evils of homosexuality, in the show he wrote the damn article while Go Yeong slept in his bed. A much larger betrayal and blow for Young. And this makes sense for the screen version, IMO; the romance is deeper and therefore so must be the fracture. Everything is just a bit bigger and more dramatic to amplify the themes of the story and to help the audience understand why this might drive Go Yeong to such a low moment without the benefit of his internal monologue to connect all the dots.

I was reflecting on these changes and how they affected the tone when I read @solitaryandwandering's thoughts, because I was intrigued by her reception of these episodes as darker, where for me, with the (much) more depressing novel version in my head, they felt lighter than expected. Which is kind of a wild thing to say about a section of the story that includes Young's suicide attempt, but context is everything! The T-aras, of course, also contribute to how different this section feels. In the book, Young is presented as so isolated and alone with this relationship, but in the show he has friends who know and care and try to help and show up for him in his low moment to make sure he is not alone. It makes such a difference to the bleakness of it all, and also makes the story feel more cohesive across the different parts in a way the book intentionally does not.

I think ultimately the adaptation choices made here were smart, and I continue to be impressed with how thoughtful Sang Young Park has been with his different visions for his story in each medium.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Meeting The Jones - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: crying, fluff, unedited, a little bit of angst, arguing — SUMMARY: It’s Christmas and Jack and Amara plan on having a peaceful day by themselves, (plus Esmeralda and Luke). But when their apartment doorbell rings and her parents' faces pop out, Amara knows it will be a long day. — WORD COUNT: 4,6K PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

Soft purrs sound through the living room along with low sounds coming from the tv, which is playing in the background, while Jack and Amara are cuddled on the couch, giggling and talking to each other, with Esmeralda on Amara’s lap.

“Oh, oh, and do you remember when Luke fell off the boat and popped out with the algae on his head?” both laugh at the memory that happened only a few months ago when they were in Michigan.

“Yeah, that was hilarious.” Jack throws his head back from laughter, his hands resting on Amara’s belly massaging it slightly.

“I remember your mom's face when she saw him.” Amara giggles her hair tickling Jack’s face but he doesn’t care.

The smile on his face only grows as he keeps listening to the angelic giggles and the soft purrs Esmeralda is making. His eyes are traveling between his girlfriend and the cat lying on her lap, his little family—a family he chose and wouldn’t change for anything.

When he’s about to say something, the doorbell rings through their apartment he stops himself and looks down at Amara with a questionable look.

“You expecting someone?” the confusion is written even on Amara’s head as she shakes her head no.

“No, but it could be Nico or someone.” She shrugs and both of them stand up and approach the door, opening it without bothering to ask who it is. As soon as the doors swing open and the seven faces of Amara’s family pop out, she stumbles backward almost dropping Esmeralda down, but Jack steadies her and smiles politely towards the people standing outside the apartment.

“W-what are you doing here?” Amara asks, her voice shaky just like her hands.

“Oh, I raised you better Amara! No ‘Hello! How are you? Please come in.’” her mother tsk, shaking her head as she holds her Louis Vuitton bag on her forearm.

“So will you invite us in or should we stay standing in the hallway?” this time it’s Adela who speaks, causing Jack to cringe at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah sure, come in, take a seat,” Jack says instead of Amara, ushering them inside. “Something to drink?” he asks as soon as he closes the doors and with his hand on Amara’s lower back her motions her deeper inside the apartment.

“Oh my gosh! You still have the cat?” Adela asks with disgust written all over her face as she stares at the fluffy ball on the couch. “Anyway, Liam will be here in a few, the girls wanted some drink or whatever.” Before Adela can shove Esmeralda down the couch, Amara runs to her and picks her up in her arms.

“Something to drink?” Jack asks again, standing behind Amara as he watches her family look around their place with judgment.

“Ah, yes, I’d like a Latte please,” Amara’s mom says a fake smile sitting on her lips. “And I forgot to mention this, but we’ll be staying at yours.” This time a mischievous smile lingers on her lips.

“F-for how long?” Amara asks in shock, stumbling back slightly and hitting Jack’s chest.

“Two days. But don’t worry, Liam and the girls will stay in a nearby hotel,” the first time Amara’s father, Michael, says something. “And I would like a black coffee.”

“And you Adela?” Jack asks her and diverts his eyes from her father to her. She batted her lashes, checking him out before answering.

“Oh, I’d like an iced coffee, but I’ll help you, I need to do it myse—” Amara doesn’t let her finish, her eyes widening in disbelief, as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend.

“I can make it, Adela. You are visiting.” Ara smiled at her, convulsively dragging Jack into the kitchen.

As soon as they get inside, she lets out a sigh of relief and starts boiling the water for the coffee. She strolls around the kitchen looking for the perfect glasses for the coffee her family wanted.

“Hey, hey, slow down, Berry,” Jack grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “They can wait, okay.”

“No, no, they can’t,” she sighs, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my gosh! I completely forgot to introduce you to them!” She looks at him with horror in her eyes.

“Hey, take a deep breath, baby! I think they already know who I am, but if they don't, then that's okay. Just take a deep breath and let me help you with the drinks, okay?” He takes her face in his hands, kissing the top of her nose, drawing a soft giggle from Amara.

“Thank you.” Amara lets out a sigh and closes her eyes to calm her nerves slightly.

“So how did you two meet?” Spencer asks as soon as Amara and Jack sit down after the second round of drinks, this time for Spencer and his family.

“Through our mutual friend, Nico,” Amara smiles softly at her older brother while she pets Esmeralda sitting on her lap. “You actually know him.”

“Yeah, the Swiss guy! Nice dude.” he nods, looking over at his kids silently playing in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, and what about you? How are you doing in Norway?” Jack asks Spencer’s wife, Anniken, with a smile on his face when he sees how out of place she feels. He rests his hand on Amara’s thigh, noticing the look Adela sends their way.

Spencer smiles softly at his wife when she starts speaking. “Really good. At least from my side,” she giggles, her thick accent noticeable in her voice, but both Amara and Jack find it cute.

“The same goes for me. I made a lot of friends here, and I have a job I really enjoy, so it’s amazing here.” Spencer finishes, kissing the side of his wife's head.

“Just a quick question. Are you planning on staying here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” Amara asks out of place, but she needs to know if she has to go grocery shopping because they have food only for two of them.

“Yeah, I thought it was clear.” her mother says in a ‘duh’ tone, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, I was just asking,” Amara murmurs shaking her head slightly. Jack squeezes her thigh, not wanting her to have a fight with her mom or to be sad. “I will go grocery shopping tomorrow, I’ll take Nico with me because I want you to stay in here with them,” she whispers in his ear and then looks into his eyes pleadingly.

“Yeah, sure baby.” He kisses the side of Amara’s face bringing her closer to him.

“Hi, sorry about this,” Amara says when she enters Nico’s car. It’s seven a.m., and she is on her way to do the grocery shopping.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it,” He smiles at you as he pulls off. “So how long are they staying?” he asks slowing down at the lights, handing her his phone so she can play their shared playlist.

“Until Christmas Day, " she says with annoyance. It’s not that she doesn’t love her family—she does, well, at least her brother’s family—but she wants a quiet and calm Christmas.

“That long?” he asks in disbelief, his brows almost touching his hairline. “Jesus, good luck with them.”

“Yeah, thank you.” She sighs, resting her head against the seat. “Anyway, I need to buy more food because I had only for me, Jack, and Lu,” she sighs again, opening her notes where she had written the shopping list last night.

“I think if Luke finds out your family is here, he’ll stay at mine. You know he doesn’t like them,” he says, trying to make something funny from the situation, but when Amara looks at him with sadness in her eyes, he instantly regrets it. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ara.” He sighs, mentally slapping himself.

“I know, Ni. I’m just sad that they are as they are.”

“Yeah well, you got to see them only once per year so don’t let them overwhelm you. You have your family here. You know that guys love you.”

“Yeah, I know, and I love them.” she smiles nudging his hand.

“Okay, now tell me where we are going.”

Amara wakes up due to loud sounds coming from the kitchen. She looks next to her, where Jack usually lies when he has a day off, but not today. In her pajamas, she leaves the bedroom, only to be met with the loud voices of her mother and Adela and the sweet smell of something Jack is cooking.

Still sleepy she walks through the living room, not caring about the looks her mother and sister are giving her, and enters the kitchen, her head bumping into something firm but soft.

“Oh babes,” Jack chuckles, wrapping his hands around her as does she. “Still sleeping, right?” he asks pressing soft kisses in her hair making her melt into his embrace.

Tiredly she nods against his chest, breathing in his calming scent. Her arms lock behind Jack's back as she presses tighter against his firm body.

“You want coffee and something for breakfast, Berry?” he asks, his hand rubbing comforting circles on her back because he knows that waking up for her is sometimes hard.

“Please.”  She nods and rasps out.

“Okay, go get yourself ready and when I finish your food I’ll come for you okay? I am just finishing their breakfast and then I’ll politely tell them to go out for a few hours so Luke can come over and help us prepare the food. Okay?” he whispers in her ear, gently unlocking her hands from behind his back.

“Thank you, J.” She kisses his cheek and turns around walking out of the kitchen to their bedroom, but when she’s already inside she hears something that catches her ear.

“No wonder Jack flirts with me when she looks like this.”

Amara closes the door behind herself taking in a deep breath. “Jack loves you. He would never flirt with Adela.” She says to herself trying to believe those words, but this little voice inside her head tells her that she’s naive if she thinks that he would not.

She hates it when her head is against her. The voice inside her should say ‘Girl! You are gorgeous and you know Jack’s head over heels in love with you! He would never!’ but it says the opposite, and she hates it.

She enters the bathroom and looks at her face in the mirror. She cringes at the sight. Her hair is messy, and she has marks from the pillow on her cheeks.

She shakes her head and starts with her morning skin routine.

 “Lu? Can you please hand me the sour cream, please?” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah sure,” he smiles, opening the fridge and pulling out the sour cream and handing it to her. “You are doing mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah, the cheddar ones. Why? You don’t like them?” she asks in horror as she turns at him with tears forming in her eyes. This is the first Christmas she has together with Jack and Luke, plus her family and she doesn’t want to mess up.

She loves Jack’s family, and she really doesn’t want them to hate her, just because she cooked something her sons don’t eat.

“No, no I love them, really Berry!” Luke says quickly, not wanting his sister-in-law to cry.

“Really?” she looks up at him, from under her lashes, wiping under her eyes.

“We all love them, if Quinn was here, he would eat it all by himself.” He says with a smile, bringing her in a hug. She laughs at his comment snuggling inside his chest.

“Oh, come one Luke! Find your own girlfriend and leave mine.” Jack shouts when he sees his brother hugging his girlfriend.

Luke moves from her with his hands in the air, laughing at his brother’s jealous ass. “Calm down big boy! Just having a brother and sister moment with my sister.”

“Well, I found her first so find yours.” He murmurs as cradles Amara in his arms. She stays there for a while but after a few seconds, she gets out of his embrace and moves to the mashed potatoes she was doing a moment ago.

Right now she doesn’t really wanna be in Jack’s presence after what she heard, but she doesn't want to create tension here, especially on Christmas, so she smiles at him and continues cooking.

“Okay so I am gonna do the Prime Rib, so you Luke, you can make the stuffing, what do you say?” Jack suggests, sending Luke a look that says, ‘don’t you dare’. Luke chuckles and nods his head, all three of them getting into the work.

After about three hours of cooking, they are already done and curled up on their couch. “Lu, I just want you to know that if you don’t want to spend Christmas with us because of my family, Nico said that he will be glad if you come over,” Amara says in a sad tone because she knows he will probably leave when he gets to meet his family.

“No, I wanna spend Christmas with you guys! It is the first Christmas away from home and I’m thrilled to spend it with you!” he looks at his sister-in-law with a wide smile on her lips. “And I am sure your family isn’t that bad.” He smiles at her, really thinking that her family isn’t that bad.

“You don’t know them, buddy.” Jack sighs quietly to Luke and pulls Amara closer to him, kissing her hair.

“So We have this little tradition in our family,” Jack says as you all stand by the table, waiting for the toast. He looks at Luke who is standing right next to him.

“Yeah we all say one word to describe what we are grateful for, so if you wouldn’t mind, doing it?” he cocks his head to the side measuring the people around the table.

The first one to speak is Adela, who throws her hair behind her shoulder, fluttering her lashes at him.

“No, of course, we wouldn’t,” she says in a flirty voice, causing Jack to send her a forced smile. He doesn’t notice the look Amara gives him and his sister as she watches her flirt with him.

“Yeah, I actually like your tradition.” Spencer smiles and Anniken nods in agreement.

“Okay, what do you say Berry?” he asks with a lovesick smile which drops when he sees her looking down on the table.

She quickly whips her head up, giving him a half smile and nodding her head in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Luke coughs trying to melt the tension between Jack and Amara. “Sister.” She smiles, winking at Amara who blushes at his words.

“Uhm, shop.” Amara’s mother says, earning a giggles from Adela who obviously know what is she talking about.

The room is then filled with words such as ‘love’ ‘family’ ‘Berkin’ and ‘toys’ before the turn is on Amara who looks at Luke and then at Jack finding the right word for what she wants to say.

“Devil’s,” she says, giving Luke and Jack a cheeky smile as she thinks of all the boys on the team, especially Jack, Luke, and Nico.

Luke blows her a kiss and wiggles her brows at her.

“Okay and now the cherry on the top.” Luke points at his brother, as Adela’s giggles fill the room.

“Strawberry.” He says, not listening to Adela's words as his eyes are locked on the pretty girl beside him. Amara raises his head, her eyes sparkling with love as she looks into Jack’s blue ones. She smiles at him and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it tenderly.

“Okay so everyone said what they wanted and now is a time for toast and dinner,” Luke says taking in hand his glass of white wine. Everyone follows as the toast for Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

“Oh Jezz, Lu!” Jack suddenly whines, making Amara flinch, on her seat, because she didn’t expect it. “Sorry, baby.” He apologizes immediately, kissing the top of her hand. “Did you order the present for mom and dad?” he looks at his younger brother with wide eyes.

Luke stops in his tracks, reviewing the last week if he had time to order it or not. “Yeah, yeah, I did! I was on a call with Quinn when I booked it.”

“Thank God.” Jack sighs in relief, stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes.

“So, Jack, I watched your games, you play amazing!” Adela says in a flirty tone, while her mom smiles at Jack as if she knows what is her daughter trying to do.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” He clears his throat, swallowing the food. “I am just doing my job as best I can just like the other guys on our team. Nothing special,” he shrugs, squirming in his seat uncomfortably. “Actually, Luke here is rocking!” he tries to draw the attention away from himself.

“Oh shut it, Jack.” Luke blushes slightly at his words.

“What! It’s true Lukey! You are rocking it!” Amara smiles at him, sending him a wink. Luke shrugs it off, putting more food on his plate.

“And Jacky, you are defenceman? Or wing? I have a mess in this hockey dictionary.” She giggles and flatters her lashes at him.

Amara rolls her eyes at her sister and tries to swallow the gulp in her throat as she tries to not be jealous, or let her thoughts and the voice in her head win, but it is hard as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend, and him, seemingly not noticing it or liking it.

She looks at the other end of the table, where she sees her brother already looking at her with his protective look like he’s about to say something, but she just shakes her head, not wanting to make a scene.

Spencer clenches his jaw and sends triggers through Adela's head.

“I am center, but Lukey here is defenseman.” Jack points at Luke, who is stuffing his mouth with the stuffing.

“Oh, nice,” She nods, with no interest in her voice. “So, what is your job as center?” she asks him again, pursing her lips and checking Jack out.

Just as she says it, Amara abruptly stands up, the chair almost falling on the ground. “Excuse me, I need to freshen up.” She says with her voice croaking in the process. Luke looks at his brother, shaking his head lightly. He noticed it too, but it seems like his brother is oblivious to the fact that Adela is flirting with him.

“Always had to be dramatic.” Her father says, shaking his head. Adela and her mother laugh, nodding their head.

Luke stands up and with an apologetic smile, he leaves the room. He knocks on the door to Amara’s and Jack’s room, opening it, only to see no one in there, so he knocks on the door to the bathroom.

“It’s me, Ara, can you please open the door?”

“I am fine, Lu, go eat, I’ll come in a minute.” She says calmly, but Luke can say, she’s crying.

“Amara!” he sighs in a warning tone. He knows it came out a bit too harsh, but he also knows how to handle her in these situations.

A few seconds later he hears the click of the lock and shuffling in there. He opens the door and immediately pulls Amara in a hug. “Hey, don’t cry!” he whispers in her ear when he hears her sniffing. “You know Jack loves you,” he rubs her back, trying to calm her down. Amara nods in agreement, and sniffs, pulling away from him slightly. “He couldn’t be a minute without you and you know that, sis.”

“But he…she is prettier, and…and nothing like me,” she sniffles, new tears forming in her eyes. “She’s slimmer, she’s prettier, and just has everything I don’t.”

“Hey! Don’t ever talk like this about yourself! You are gorgeous and I bet everything that Jack thinks you are the most gorgeous woman in this whole world, so don’t!” he says harshly, but he means it in a good and Amara knows it.

“I am sorry.” She sighs, wiping under her eyes.

“Come on, sis! Let's get you cleaned! You look like a clown.” He chuckles teasingly, earning giggles from her. “And I thought something was wrong with you being nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“And I thought there was something wrong with you being all nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“Is everything okay?” Jack whispers in her ear as she sits down on her seat by the table.

She nods her head, smiling at him a kissing his cheek. “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry.”

“We’ll talk about this later hm, pretty girl?” his smiles wide and his hand reaches to her face to tug the strand of her hair behind her ear.

— — — — — — — —

“Berry,” Jack says in surprise as he opens his present. “No baby!” he sighs, looking at his girlfriend in awe.

“What? You’ve talking about it for the past few months,” she shrugs, smiling at him teasingly.

“Yeah, but…” he starts but she shushes him.

“No buts, J. You wanted this, so I bought it. Thank you is enough.” She giggles, wiggling her brows at him.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he whispers between the kisses he gives her. “I love you.” He then pulls away looking down at the new game for their ps5.

“You are welcome.” She smiles, moving his hair from his forehead.

“Don’t want to interrupt this… whatever is happening here,” Adela says and throws her hand in the air. “But I have something for you Jack.” She smiles flirty and hands him her preciously wrapped gift. Amara scoots away, sighing slightly.

“Oh, uhm… Thanks, but I have nothing for you.” Jack takes the gift from her with an awkward smile.

“Oh, that's okay.” She waves it off and sits in the space Amara made when she moved away.

Spencer is watching this whole scene that’s happening in front of his eyes.

His eyes are switching between his two sisters as one is sitting with tears forming in her eyes as she watches the other one flirting with her boyfriend.

Jack opens the present, wincing when he sees, a bracelet with A and J initials on it.

“Isn’t it cute! Now we match!” she shows him his wrist where is the same bracelet.

“Enough!” Amara yells, making everyone look at her with wide eyes. They never heard her yell. Ever. Adela rolls her eyes at her sister's dramaticism and turns back at Jack. “Oh, for fucks sake Adela!” she shouts again, this time walking to her a gripping her arm to move her away from her boyfriend.

“What now, drama queen?” she says annoyed, folding her arms across his chest.

“What now? WHAT NOW!” Amara repeats with sarcasm leaking from it. “I’ll tell you what! I am sick of you, flirting with my boyfriend in front of me!” she spits in her face, tears forming in her eyes. “I know I was never good for you,” this time she looks at her parents. “Since the moment, when doctors said to you that I have ADHD, you started treating me like trash. I got it okay! You wanted a perfect child but guess what! I AM NOT!” her voice cracks as she speaks, causing Jack to wince and stand up, but Amara looks at him and shakes her head. “And you! You are so fed up with your beauty, that you can’t act like normal sister. I know I am nothing like you! I am not slim or don’t have the perfect nails and other things, and it really, really hurts when you keep showing it to me every time you visit,” now Amara is crying, her mascara sliding down her cheeks, as she tries to breathe normally. “Now excuse me.” She whispers and runs inside their bedroom. Everyone sits in the living room in silence, before Adela breaks it.

“So dramatic. I don’t underst—”

“Shut up! Adela!” This time, it is Jack who yells. The vein on his forehead pops out and tears form in his eyes.

“I am so fed up with you! You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” he spits in her face turning to her parents, who are watching him with wide eyes, while Spencer watches him with a proud smile. “And you!” he points at them with venom in his voice. “You don’t deserve her as a daughter. I want the three of you out of my apartment right now! Pack your shits and leave. Luke, kick them out if they are not packed within half an hour,” he says to his brother in a calmer voice and turns to Spencer and his family with an apologetic look. “You are always welcome here, you can stay here and…” Spencer interrupts him with a smile as he pulls him in a hug.

“Thank you, but we will leave too. Go check up on your girl. I am sure she needs you right now.” He pats his back, running to his bedroom.

He knocks on the door and says, “Berry? Can I come in? Please?” he hears, only shuffling coming from the room, so he decides to open the door, and to his surprise, they are open.

His heart drops when he sees his girlfriend’s body shaking from crying on their bed. He closes the door and strolls over to her, immediately pulling her to his lap.

“I am here! Don’t cry please!” he whispers in her ear, squeezing her to him even more. “It breaks my heart seeing you crying.” His voice croaks and tears stream down his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—” she hiccups and sniffles, pulling her face away from Jack’s. “I didn’t want to make a scene.” She swallows hard but relaxes when she feels his hands on her face, wiping the tears away.

“No baby. You had all right to do it. And I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to her at all. I knew she was flirty, but I didn’t want them to make them feel uncomfortable in here,” He whispers, tears sliding down his cheeks. “But maybe that is exactly what I should do. And I am so sorry it made you feel like this! I love you so much! I love everything about you baby!” he says frantically, looking into her eyes, to make sure, she understands what he’s saying.

Amara smiles at him, her hands coming to his cheeks, and this time it is her job to wipe the tears on his cheeks. “I know and I am sorry that I ever doubt that.” She whispers resting her forehead on his.

“It’s okay. I guess I must do a better job in showing you.” He smirks through his tears and slightly tickles her, earning a shriek from her.

Amara lets out a loud sigh when he stops and looks into his blue eyes. “I think I need to say sorry to Spencer and his family. I ruined their Christm—”

“No, you don’t, they understand. And maybe we should stay here for the next twenty minutes. I kinda kicked your family out of here.” He says, chuckling nervously because he doesn’t know how she will react.

“Good,” Amara nods and presses her lips to his in a tender kiss. “Because I would do that if you don’t.” she giggles. Jack just looks at his girl, sitting on his lap and giggling.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

okay, i have no one else to say this to, and ARAs make me feel rabid. Sorry for this, lol. I get constantly frustrated by vegans using specism as a reason for their choice,,, outside of the irony that most of the ones i’ve seen online are super racist and ableist with more care for animals than the people who farm their food. I just think the argument is incredibly hollow. There is constantly more evidence that plants have sentience, so why are animal lives prioritized over plants? with this knowledge wouldn’t an omnivorous and sustainable diet be the most ethical from an anti-specist perspective?

They will never care about plants because many of them go by the “I don’t eat it if it has a face” mantra despite that being quite reductive and not even inclusive of most animals let alone plants or fungi which function on such a high level humans can’t even fully perceive its scope.

They’ll say omnivores only eat animals because we see them as “less than” which they acknowledge as being wrong but if you mention plants they go on about how OBVIOUSLY that’s different because a plant doesn’t have REAL feelings because they don’t have brains or even a basic central nervous system, which, is arguable, but more to the point is really not any different from saying a pig doesn’t have REAL value since it can’t read and doesn’t even have opposable thumbs.

They will flaunt that it’s difficult to argue that speciesism is fake without using an argument a white supremacist would make about poc, but it’s difficult for them to argue for the life of a plant or fungus not mattering without it sounding like something a filthy carnist would say about steak.

Point being, the tactic they use to claim comparing black people to livestock as not being racist is a very easy tactic to redirect at them because the fact of the matter is that humans have a very limited perspective. No matter what you do, you’ll always see the world through the lens of a human being.

It’s easy for a human to sympathize with something they can relate to. A pig? One of the closest genetic relatives to humans and express a lot of human-like opinions through their actions. That’s actually why I don’t personally eat pork. It’s easy to sympathize with a pig. Many people are more okay with eating fish because they’re cold blooded, slimy, don’t have arms or lungs or legs or anything a human can easily relate to, they don’t even have eyelids or a complex heart, so of course they don’t bat an eye to fishing in comparison to hunting because a fish is more primal and feels less human. Then there’s invertebrates, very few people feel guilt eating a crab, they’ll even justify boiling lobsters alive if you tell them it tastes better! After all, is that even REALLY a face? Which part is their mouth? What are those creepy antennae? Perhaps it isn’t even fit to eat since it looks so alien to humans.

Even for the plight of an insect most ARAs can stand by their principle, but what is it that makes plants and mushrooms different? No, they don’t have a face, but they still respond to different stimuli, plants and fungi can even send messages to others in their colony to warn of danger and more that we don’t really understand yet.

The average person doesn’t care about squashing a bug because they don’t see enough of themselves in it to care about its life, so why do ARAs see no issue in harming plants and fungi just because they don’t see enough similarity between them and animals?

To live, you have to take away from the life of another. That’s how life works. You can adjust your diet to suit your ethics, I certainly do, but if you’re going to try to guilt and force it on others then you could at least try to be less hypocritical.

[sluttysnowangel666]

Chapters 1, 2, & 3 of The Song of Blackwoods and Brackens

Kieran Burton fancast, this story will include violence, crude language, smut eventually, angst

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

if you enjoy this story, submit questions or requests for one shots and imagines ❤️also taking cregan stark requests as well

Chapter Master List

Summary: A unique, fictional short story set in the "A Song of Ice & Fire/House of the Dragon" universe.

The Battle of the Burning Mill was one of legend. A bloody and brutal fight between two great houses at the start of the Dance of Dragons. There were those who supported the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and those who supported the Usurper Aegon Targaryen.

This account retells the days leading up to the battle, and the tension between the son of Samwell Blackwood and the "nephew" of Amos Bracken. These two fighters hold a secret known to no one that changes both of their lives and the future of their houses.

*this story is NOT canon, and might change depending on how the show continues to play with these characters. especially depending on if davos is meant to be bloody ben. this story is a davos/bloody ben x female reader pretending to be a male, nsfw*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Preface

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"Uncle, you cannot mean it!"

"I do. You will do this for the future of our house, and that is final. Your father wanted you to marry long ago. It's unnatural a lady of your age is not even betrothed." My uncle Amos declares.

"I understand, uncle. I know my duty. But I beg you, please let the wise lords come to me to ask my hand, Uncle. Do not betroth me to a man I know nothing of!" I cry out.

"You are being ridiculous, young lady. I will hear nothing more of this matter. You know nothing of the wars to come. This alliance between our houses will secure our land and our future. You will marry the Lannister boy and that is final. Now, take your handmaiden and return to your chambers." He says, and I know there is nothing more I can say or do. My uncle was a cold man. He showed no sort of interest in what I, his niece, wished.

"Come, my lady." My handmaiden, Ara, says. She gives my arm a soft tug, and I follow her, trying to catch my uncles eyes before I leave the room. But it is of no use. He has no time for a lady, only time for the wars to come.

That night, I stared at myself in the mirror above my vanity as my handmaiden brushed my long hair.

"Leave me please, Ara." I requested her. She nodded, bowed her head, and left.

I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. I stared and stared until I no longer recognized the lady staring back at me.

Once I finished my staring, I sat with my thoughts. What would this Lannister lord be like? I oft heard of the Lannister beauty and gold. Many of the men were strong knights, the ladies as fair as they come. But would my lord be gentle, forgiving, kind? I fear I could not love a ruthless man. I also fear I do not have a choice.

"For the good of our house"

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

"Father, you requested an audience with me?" Benjicot says, bowing to his father as he enters the hall.

"Yes, my son. I have a very important matter to ask of you." Samwell says, he turns and rests his hand on his son's shoulder.

His son, Benjicot, was a man of twenty and two, and was a fearsome knight. Benjicot had trained under the finest knights, fought in the toughest tourneys, and worked tirelessly to prove himself strong.

"I need you to hold the lands by the North Eastern mill. Those bloody Brackens have been allowing their livestock to cross into our territory, and letting their retched cows feast on our grass and crops." Samwell says, "All you have to do is hold the land and kill a few Brackens. I know this is simple, but this task is vital to our house and to supporting the Queen. If we take out these Brackens, the Usurper cunt will take a blow to their armies. I only need you to hold the lands for no more than a week, upon which I will arrive by your side to help slay the Brackens."

"As you wish, father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Lady Bracken

One moon before the Battle of the Burning Mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"You must eat something, my lady."

"You cannot make me. I will starve before my retched uncle dares to marry me off to a conniving Lannister." I scold my handmaiden. None of this is any fault of her own, but perhaps death will be a kinder escape than forced into a betrothal.

"Please, my lady. It's been days. You must be starving by now."

"I find it hard to have an appetite knowing I'll soon be carrying a babe in my belly as an heir for House Lannister." I say. My handmaiden sighs and sets down the plate as a knock rings on the solid oak door.

My uncle enters, "You may go." He dismisses my handmaiden coldly. She bows and exits swiftly.

He addresses me.

"I have begun to prepare for your leave to Casterly Rock. Your handmaidens will begin packing your things following my departure tonight to King's Landing to meet with His Grace. Your brother Aeron will be acting lord until my return. You on the other hand, shall prepare to leave within the fortnight. A ceremony is in preparations as we speak." He says, briskly. "And I command you stop this nonsense at once. You are a lady and will do your duty to secure our alliances, which includes eating. You cannot arrive to Casterly Rock looking that of a starving lowborn."

I wait a moment before responding flatly, "I understand, uncle."

He takes this response as a success and leaves my bed chambers hastily.

My vanity.

I make my way back to my vanity. I stare again, and again. I stare endlessly. I stare until my face turns ghastly. I was becoming a woman obsessed with this bloody mirror.

And then it hits me. How could I have been so absent minded? I am not the future of my house. I have brothers who will create heirs and carry on the bloodline. I am not the future of House Lannister. My uncle cannot and will not make me marry the lord Lannister. Over my dead body.

I make my way over to the my chamber door. I open it and peer out, looking left and right for any signs of handmaidens or servants. When none appear, I walk out. All I have to do is mind my self and surroundings, and then no one will pay any mind to the Lady Bracken.

After making my way across the endless halls of the family castle, I find myself standing in front of my uncles war council chambers. I press my ear to the door to listen, but hear no voices or signs of someone being inside. I make my way in and walk straight for the dagger kept above the mantle. My uncle won't notice, at least until his return.

I return to my bed chambers, quickly rushing to stuff the dagger under my mattress before a handmaiden can question me.

My idea is foolish. Stupid. It won't work. Although, I have nothing to lose. Nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: She’s the Man

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

The moment my uncle's carriage was no longer in sight, I prepared for my plan.

I waited 3 days as to not arouse suspicion.

"Brother!" I called out to my twin brother, Aeron.

"The training yard is no place for a Lady. Return inside. Whatever the matter is can wait." He scolds me.

"A raven has arrived from our uncle. The king has wished the heir of House Bracken to accompany our Lord Uncle to bend the knee and declare for His Grace." I say, holding out a scroll for my brother.

"This makes no sense." He says, snatching the scroll from my hand. "There is no seal. When did this arrive?"

"Just now, brother. It is the King's words and penmanship."

"How am I to trust an unsealed scroll?" He snaps.

"I suppose you could ignore the request. But if you do, His Grace may believe it to be you wish to declare for Rhaenyra." I say.

He contemplates. My foolish brother. "If you leave now, you will meet Uncle along the Kingsroad. You will only be a few days behind. You might chance meet him at Harrenhal."

He sighs, "When are you to leave for Casterly Rock? We simply cannot leave Stone Hedge unattended."

"Uncle simply said within the fortnight. I will send a raven at once to Casterly Rock to inform them of a possible delay of my arrival." I say, "But you must hurry, brother. A war is coming. House Bracken cannot end up on the wrong side. We need the King's trust."

My words, sweet like honey but full of falseness persuade my brother. He makes his preparations, and is gone by the following morning.

I begin my own preparations.

—————

The clarity of my foolish plan set in shortly after my brother left. But it was too late to turn around. My brother had told our servants and knights I would be leading House Bracken until their return.

Maybe I couldn't escape this betrothal. Maybe I couldn't support the rightful Queen. But maybe... just maybe I could make a fool of my House as revenge. My House, my blood, who never showed me any sort of attention. They simply sold me off as a broodmare once l was finally useful to them.

My foolish blood. They will soon come to find out just how useful I can be.

I sit in front of my vanity again, for what will be the last time. I twirl the dagger in my hands, prodding its sharp edge with my dumb. Plenty sharp. Well enough for killing Blackwoods.

I reach my hand up and grab my hair into an even hold. I raise the dagger, and cut it all off in one clean swipe.

I stare at my reflection, setting down the knife so I may run my fingers through the freshly cut blunt ends. I shake the loose hair out of my hands.

"Lord Bracken." I say to myself in the mirror, lowering my voice deeply to sound more of a man. I shake my head. "No, I sound foolish."

"Lord Bracken." I say again, adding a rasp to my voice. "Getting somewhere."

I clear my throat, "I am Lord... Aeron of House Bracken, the heir..."

Gods, I was screwed. I didn't even know my brother's proper title. Was he a knight? I think so... mayhaps?

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

"Bloody fuckin' hell." Benjicot snaps in anger, as he stares at the cattle on his land. "I swear to the seven I'm going to murder that Bracken cunt."

"Someone ought to teach that little prick a lesson." His cousin says, spitting at the end of his sentence. "We'll move the stones back for now. When you see him on his guard, show him how a Blackwood takes care of business."

Benjicot nods slightly.

"Oy, did you hear? Turns out they're marrying the Lady Bracken off to some Lannister cunt." His cousin says. "I've heard she's very pretty. Got them soft Bracken genes."

"And what do I care? Probably another cunt like her brother and uncle."

"Never said you did. Just found it funny. They seem to have a thing for letting their cattle roam on other people's land." His cousin insults. Benjicot chuckles at this.

"Poor girl. If there's one thing I hate more than a Bracken, it's a Lannister. Bloody cocksuckers they are." Benjicot says, his cousin agreeing.

"We best get these bloody cattle and stones back where they belong."

[twig-tea]

I'm still processing the end of Love in the Big City the series, but I wanted to jot down a few details and unfinished thoughts that are sticking with me after episodes 7 and 8 [series-only thoughts].

Putting together the timeline made me realize how many important moments in Yeong's life share or are near to the same anniversary; We know he contracts HIV in February (2014), and that Gyu-Ho leaves in February (2022), and that Yeong quits his job in February (2023).

In ep5, we see Yeong's phone where he has three missed calls from Gyu-Ho, and we can see that he's saved Gyu-Ho's name as Q~❤ [hearto], and that probably contributed to why he had hope that the mysterious Q was Gyu-Ho.

We see Yeong finish the soy sauce, and he said it was expired back when they were living together, so that means it's another year out of date. There's something in this metaphor about hanging on past when things are good and finally being able to let go.

When Gyu-Ho first looks at the elephants in the cheap Bangkok motel they were a pair on that nightstand, and he only took one of them.

The metaphor of the ceiling fan hanging over them like a threat the one time they have sex without a condom, how the trust that the fan will not fall feels similar to the trust that the PrEP pills will do their job. Thinking about the way Yeong says Kylie is his and how he wants to be sure she'll remain only his.

And how that ceiling fan ties connects with Habibi and his photos of ceiling fans, how the ceiling is the last thing he saw before he went blind for two weeks and so he takes photos of them in every hotel, how he uses it as his profile picture on hookup apps, how he is hiding from his family and the life he doesn't want by spending time with people on the verge of breaking, but holding on.

The way Gyu-Ho haunts the narrative in episodes 7 and 8 the way Kylie haunted the narrative in 5 and 6.

The perspective we got on the scenes from Yeong and Gyu-Ho's trip to Bangkok in 7&8 contrasted with the version we got in 5&6 was so well done; both versions fit together really well but cannot be fully reconciled because our memories are never perfect, and a person is not a character in a novel.

I also found myself pondering how they shot the scenes that reprise across Parts; did they have both directors on site for these moments and shoot them in the same day? The technical aspect of these is so interesting to me because of the different directors and how different these shots looked (not just in the nuances of how they were acted, but how they were coloured, framed, everything).

There's something in my head about how writing was what drove a wedge between them when they were together, what Yeong tried to use to keep them together forever on the lantern (and instead what tore up the lantern), and what he used to remember Gyu-Ho when they were apart.

Something also about how Eun Su was so much better off not being married, I was so relieved when we found out the wedding had been called off, and how the pressure to hide how he was feeling about what was happening in his life was what made him feel closer to Yeong.

I was just so relieved when the T-aras fell through that door after Yeong tried celebrating quitting his job by himself and instead fell into a depression for six days. I have had friends do a similar wellness check for me and I will never forget how loved it made me feel when I thought I was unlovable. I'm just so glad Yeong had the T-aras in his life; and their presence in this section was complicated but deeply moving. I'm still working through everything I think about how they functioned in the series, but I am so, so grateful for them, and to this series as a whole.

I absolutely loved it.

[pinkroseblooms]

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Arajin Tomoshibi/f!Reader/Marito Jin

Summary: A misunderstanding leads Arajin to realizing he's not quite over his crush on you; it's even harder ignoring his own feelings when you also manage to peak his volatile boyfriend's interest. A/N: This takes place in a AU without magic and honki people. Suggestive language, but no smut: part 2 coming soon! Enjoy! wc: 2.3k

“Let Arajin go!”

Marito felt something smack the back of his head, right dead center of his bun; he slowly turns enough to see you holding a ladle high above your head. You flinched, but held the utensil higher. Arajin shrugged off Marito’s arm; his soul might have ascended from his body, seeing you standing in the middle of the street.

“What are you doing?!”

“It’s okay; you start running, I’ll hold this jerk off!” Your knees shake, threatening to buckle under you at the glare Marito is casting your way. “Run!”

“Wa-wait! It’s not what you think!” Arajin sputters, hands raised as he gets between you and Marito. “What are you even doing here? Mom said you were on serving duty today; just go back to the restaurant-”

“Ara-teen, do you know this little beast?” Marito’s lips form a slow, cold smile. “That must be it; otherwise, I sure hope she has a good reason for attacking me so rudely on our date.”

“Date?” You blink, lowering the ladle to your chest. “Arajin, you…know this guy? So, he’s not bullying you?”

About ten minutes prior, you, a server at the Chu Chu Chinese Restaurant, had been tossing a couple of trash bags out in the dumpster when your eyes spied Arajin walking past with someone you didn’t know. The taller boy’s arm was slung over Arajin’s shoulders and he was talking animatedly, but your immediate assumption was that this stranger was shaking down Arajin for money or favors. You didn’t know at the time Marito Jin was in fact a gang leader, but currently you’re apologizing profusely for your “attack”; Arajin and Marito sat across from each other at an empty table as you explained to them what was going through your mind.

“I feel so dumb.” You bow your head in Marito’s direction specifically. “I really am sorry, I jumped to conclusions; I’ve been worried about Arajin having a tough time at school and I guess…I assumed the worst. I’m so sorry, Jin-san.”

“I’ll let it go this time.” Marito says coolly, barely glancing your way. “I wouldn’t normally let you live after such an offense, but for Ara-teen’s sake, I’ll excuse your rudeness.”

Arajin gulped: there’s no way he can tell you Marito is actually not only a juvenile delinquent but a dangerous psycho. No, it’s better you don’t get involved in any of this; Arajin’s known you most of his life. His mother and yours had been friends forever and when your mother passed, you had been all but adopted. You made ends meet working at Chu Chu; you were earnest and hard working but something of a worry wart, at least when it came to Arajin.

“You really don’t have to worry about me,” Arajin tries to sound casual and breezy as you set down two cups of hot tea. “Marito might seem scary but he is a…well, he’s very…he would never, uh…” 

Okay, maybe it’s dishonest to try and tell you Marito is a “good” person but Arajin really doesn’t want you to be concerned; if anything, he knows Marito is going to be the first person to throw down on his behalf should anyone even try to hurt him. Now, whether or not Marito will be inflicting any of that pain himself, that’s something Arajin can’t quite say for sure. 

“Is your head okay?” You look around Marito’s head; you lightly touch the spot you made contact with. “I can get you some ice.”

“Wow, you are wound up tight.” Marito slaps your hand away, but it’s more of a light swat than anything. “Ara-teen, tell her to calm down and bring us food; it’s bad enough our date got interrupted, I’m starving.” he whined as you left to fetch them some appetizers. “Also, you didn’t ask how my head was…”

“You said it didn’t hurt though,” Arajin grumbles under his breath, blowing on his tea. “I can’t believe this. What on earth was she thinking?”

“Is she your guard dog? A little beast like her couldn’t hurt a fly.” Marito snickers, teeth baring wolfishly. “Don’t tell me she thinks you need her to protect you.”

“It’s more like…she’d step in to help anyone.” Arajin smiles a little himself; he remembers how hard you were shaking, the real fear behind your bold glare. “She’s crazy, that girl.”

“Hey, who are we talking about here?” You come back to their table with two plates loaded up with food. “Arajin, so mean.”

“No, I didn’t mean it how it sounded!” Arajin scrambles to explain himself. “You were really cool back there actually.”

“Aw, come on, you and I both know I’m useless in a fight; that was all a bluff.” You address Marito. “Besides, he’s the one who looks cool. I really like your hair and piercings.”

“Flattery won’t get you on my good side.” 

“No, I’m serious.” You tell him with some surprise. “I’m sure you get this a lot, but you could be a model or something; of course, Arajin’s still the cutest. He’s off the charts when it comes to being a cutie pie.”

“Ugh, don’t make fun of me.” 

“Come on, no need to be modest in front of your date.” You tease. “He knows what I’m talking about, right Jin-san?”

“I’m an expert.” Marito agrees, fixing Arajin with a knowing look. “You should see how cute he looks when-”

“KNOCK IT OFF!”

“Soooo scary!” Marito cackles. “Is your face red from anger? Or something else?”

“You’re both awful.”

Arajin scoffs but inwardly he’s getting…tingly. It’s almost like both you and Marito are flirting with him, giving him all this attention. He has to remind himself you’re just being nice.

Marito takes a chicken skewer and tears a bite of juicy meat off with a satisfied hum. “Hm, these are different.”

“Oh that one is my recipe.” You grin. “Arajin, do you like it?”

“It’s delicious.” 

“Yay!”

Arajin feels his chest swell at the look of pride on your face; honestly he would happily swallow unseasoned glass shards by the spoonful if you asked him to. You were wrong: if anyone’s cute it’s you. God, he’s only been back for a few months; Arajin thought by now you wouldn’t have the same effect on him, especially now he’s seeing someone. To be fair, with Marito he wasn’t exactly given a choice, but still. 

“Feed me, Ara-teen!” Marito leans over the table and points to his open mouth. “I want a dumpling.”

“You have hands!” 

Arajin’s cheeks flush and he hopes you don’t notice. He uses his chopsticks to take a dumpling and pops it into his mouth, ignoring Marito’s whimper, but hunger wins out and he takes a dumpling for himself. 

“Here, don’t forget the sauce.” Arajin slides the bottle over to Marito. “You always eat too fast and forget to use it.”

“Aw, thanks honey~”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“Yum!” Marito licks his lips eagerly. “These really hit the spot.”

“I hope you like them; I still feel bad about earlier, so I doubled the portion.” You smile sweetly, hands clasped to your chest. “I made them with lots and lots of love, just for you two!”

Arajin almost chokes when your hands form a heart shape; Marito pauses mid bite as you shoot them with a “love beam” and giggle childishly. 

“Chu!” You blow them a kiss. “Please let me know if you want anything else; have fun on your date, Arajin-it was nice to meet you, Jin-san.”

Arajin can barely stop himself from staring as the skirt of your uniform flounces around your thighs and your hips sway with every step.

“I see how it is.” Marito leans over the table with a sly smile. “Ara-teen, bad boy. You’re practically family, aren’t ya? Does she know about your little crush? Or were you childhood sweethearts? Don’t say it’s so, I’ll be jealous.”

“No, no, no! We’re barely friends, my mom knew her mom, she’s just…”

But Arajin can tell Marito isn’t buying his excuses; of course he’s thought about you that way. 

“I liked her.” Arajin confesses quietly. “She’s cute and she's a good person: I admire her, that's all."

Cute, brave, sweet, and only the most perfect girl and Arajin knows he doesn’t have a chance in hell. Besides, you don’t see him that way; he might as well be your kid brother, the way you fuss and act so protectively. 

“I can see it now: two love birds who grew up together, getting married and running this place, a few kids maybe, real domestic. Blegh.” Marito rolls his eyes. “I bet your mom would be thrilled; is she planning the wedding? You're not just playing with me to pass the time, are ya?”

“You know mom likes you; you shocked her maybe, but she thinks you're funny and cool.” Arajin replies with a small smile. "Not that she wouldn't be happy with anyone as long as they treat me well. The only thing that would make the old hag happier is maybe if you and I and-”

“We all got together? You, me, and that little beast?” Marito picks up a dumpling, almost gingerly with his chopsticks, inspecting it with an odd half smile. “Nah, more like…a nervous little kitten who doesn’t know how to use her claws yet. She needs training.” 

Arajin watches Marito carefully; he’s been acting off all afternoon. More so, at least. 

"You heard what she said: besides, she hates fighting." Arajin remarks, passing Marito the whole plate of skewers. "Go on, these are your favorite right?"

"They're best when you make 'em though." Marito winks, basically salivating as he picks up another stick. "I bet you've had a lot of her cooking, huh?"

"Why do you keep bringing the conversation back to her?" Arajin sighs; his teas gone cold but he's too anxious to call you back over to bring more. "My mom teaches her and she has me for a guinea pig. Actually when she started cooking it was awful."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, always over salted or undercooked or burned, you name it." Arajin recalls various failed dishes he had been assigned to taste test. "She'd do it over and over again though. It was important to her. Mom would tell her food can be an expression of personality; I guess that's why she put so much effort into doing better."

Every time, you would go to him with a hopeful spark in your eyes; even now you're self conscious about how your food tastes. Arajin would say the practice paid off, but considering he would consume poison made with your painstaking care, maybe he's not the one you should've been going to for critiques.

"Her food tastes like her." Marito smacks his lips in satisfaction. "I taste it."

"The saying isn't really literal." Arajin smiles in exasperation. "What are you even tasting?"

Marito leans his chin on his hand; he has a much more subdued expression and the abrupt change on his demeanor isn't lost on Arajin. Marito is being serious.

"Filling warmth."

"Filling...warmth?"

"It's kinda like," Marito drawls. "There's heat in my belly; I already ate so much, I know I shouldn't eat more, but I can't get enough. Don't ya taste it?"

"Yeah, well," Arajin scratches his cheek. "I'd say it's comforting? Something like that."

“So, you do have a crush."

"Marito, lower your voice please!"

"Says the one squealing like a little girl; gotta say, I’m a bit disappointed in you, Ara-teen. All this time and you never tried to claim her? Normally you woulda been kissin' her ass and the ground she walks on, but you're holding back?” Marito asks, almost as if he’s genuinely curious. “You’re so odd: fiery and bold one minute and all shy and timid the next.”

“I mean, we’re…together now, so what does it matter? Come on, it's not funny, Marito. We're on a date but you keep trying to-to goad me into flirting or something.” Arajin glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. “You act like you want me to make a move on her.”

“Maybe I do.”

Arajin watches, gaping as Marito sinks his teeth into the last dumpling; he’s staring towards where you’re speaking with his mother behind the bar counter. You’re nodding, looking fairly serious now, at the ready and eager to help. Arajin can feel his heart fluttering again and he jumps when Marito’s foot slides to tap his own under the table; Arajin looks up but Marito’s eyes are still on you, a strained smile playing on his lips, as if he's trying to not laugh. 

Although everything on the table has been devoured already, Arajin wouldn't know it from the hungry way Marito scans your face, the way his tongue darts out as if to savor any trace left of the meal you had brought them. He looks ready to lick the empty plate clean: except, his eyes are still on you.

Arajin squirms in his seat and at the same moment, you seem to have noticed them staring. You wave sweetly, smiling at them; Arajin could dissolve into a puddle as Marito reaches under the table to grasp at his knee.

"Hey, ya know what we oughta do? Let's adopt a kitten."

"What?!" Arajin gasps, words cut off as Marito slides his wandering hand further to his thigh. "Stop teasing, this really, really, isn't funny..."

“I thought you liked when I teased you?" Marito giggles maniacally. "Anyway, she did say with lots and lots of love for us. Or are you so worked up you can't remember?"

"I don't think she meant..I-I couldn't-"

"Please, Ara-teen? Pretty, pretty please?" Marito coos and simpers; there's a hint of pink rising in his pale cheeks. “I wanna play with that kitten.”