#I don’t want to be a writer so much as I want to be writing

[maskedbyghost]

Simon knew marriage came with adjustments, but nothing could have prepared him for life with a writer.

It wasn’t just the weird questions—though there were plenty of those—it was the way your mind never seemed to slow down. You’d be doing something completely normal, like folding laundry, and suddenly stop, eyes going distant.

He’d barely have time to ask what was wrong before you’d rush off to scribble something down, muttering about plot twists and character arcs.

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting up in bed, phone screen lighting up your face as you frantically typed notes because “this idea can’t wait until morning.”

It meant half-finished coffee cups scattered around the house, abandoned when inspiration hit.

It meant narrating your own actions under your breath, like “she sighed, stretching her arms above her head” while actually doing it, which always made him raise an eyebrow.

And then there were the moments that made him question everything, like when you casually asked if he thought someone could realistically survive being shot twice in the chest or how long a body would take to decompose in a swamp. He used to answer with concern. Now, he barely looked up. “For a book?” “For a book.”

At first, he thought the strangest part was the research, but then he realized it was how easily you pulled him into it. You used him for everything—testing out fight scenes by making him grab your wrist so you could figure out how a character would escape, running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms as you mumbled about muscle structure and “what kind of build do you think my main guy should have?”

You studied him constantly, stealing phrases he said, describing his expressions in your notes, even admitting once that a few of your male characters had a bit of his attitude.

And then there was the way you used him for other inspiration. He figured it out one evening when he saw you sitting on the couch, staring at him with that look—one that usually meant you had something on your mind, but this time, you weren’t saying anything. Just watching.

He glanced over from where he was cleaning his gun. “What?”

You didn’t answer right away, just tilted your head slightly. “I think I want to write a new scene.”

He raised his brow, setting his things aside. “What kind of scene?”

A small smile played on your lips as you stood, walking toward him. “Something a bit messy.”

Simon leaned back, arms resting lazily on the couch as he looked you up and down. “You need details, then?”

“Mhm.” You straddled his lap, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Need to get it just right.”

He smirked, his hands settling on your waist. “That why you’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to be put to work?”

“You don’t mind a little hard work, do you?” you teased, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

His grip tightened, voice low. “Not if you’re gonna make it worth my while.”

Much later, when you were tangled in the sheets, catching your breath, you rolled over and reached for your phone. Before you could even unlock it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against Simon’s chest. “Nope,” he muttered against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I just had a thought—”

“Don’t care.” His voice was warm and heavy with sleep. “Whatever you’re about to write down, you can remember it in the morning.”

“But—”

A hand slid down your hip, fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I said, in the morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. Then, just to make sure you listened, he added, “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

Your entire body heated at the words, your brain short-circuiting for a second before snapping into overdrive. Without a word, you bolted upright, nearly diving for your phone as you started typing furiously.

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, fingers flying across the screen. “This is really good.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[xtarmanderx]

Adding onto this because yes, comment on old fics. It’s like all my Thiam stuff. I love the pairing. Love the stories. But the lack of engagement with my material anymore is what made me stop writing for them. (And I truly don’t blame anyone! Interests shift and realign all the time. My writing is constantly waffling between other fandoms right now.)

I don’t want to abandon any of my works, but I also have zero desire to work on any of them because I don’t feel like anyone cares or even remembers the stories that once meant everything to me. So yes. Leave those comments on fics that are years old and unfinished. Tell the writer what you loved about it. What you wish to see in a future update. How much you like their writing. Any type of engagement is engagement and it makes a difference. I promise.

This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.

👏 comment 👏 on 👏 old 👏 fics 👏

[marauder-misprint]

I loved Nail polish & cologne, you are such an amazing writer! It's been so long since I read a decent version of Moony in a fic. You made me incredibly happy today 🫣

Sorry if it's rude to ask, any chance you could make a sequel?

Omg, I don't find it rude at all to ask for sequels/more parts to any of my writing! It's one of the highest compliments in my opinion! So, thank you 🥰

Also tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 in the replies/comments ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Fresh parchment & perfume

Remus Lupin x reader

part one

2.3k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, Y/N, angst if you squint

You want to murder Remus Lupin. 

Okay, not really. But you’re frustrated that he’s taken away one of your simple daily joys: staring at him during class. You’ve been caught staring at him multiple times now and you swear there have been times where he was looking at you first. This never happened before so why is it happening now? 

You come to a conclusion, but you don’t like it. It’s the only thing that makes sense though.

“Lily!” you yell as you enter your dorm and slam the door behind you. “What did you say?”

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“About what? To who? When?” she asks, preparing her defense.

“About what I smelled in the Amortentia!”

“You never told me what you smelled,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I mean, I can assume, but you never actually told me. And who would I have told?”

“Oh, I don’t know, James, maybe?”

She laughs. “Potter?” Then she looked down at her hands. “I mean, yeah, we’ve talked a little bit and he doesn’t seem… as bad? But we don’t talk about you.” 

“Oh.” Your voice is small. “Never mind then.”

You collapse on your bed and Lily is sitting at the foot of it within seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I’ve told Potter about your feelings for a certain quiet prefect?” she asks.

You lift your head to glare at her. You’re not in the mood. 

“He’s been looking at me…” you mumble, which causes Lily to fall into a fit of laughter. “Lily!”

“I-I… I’m sorry, but… that’s ridiculous and you know it,” she manages to say in between her laughs. “He’s been looking at you?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “He’s never looked at me this much before”

You pause as you hide your face in your hands. 

“He must know and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he’s working up the courage to talk to you?” Lily offers.

“He can talk to me just fine. We’ve studied before. Played Summoner’s Court. Wizards’ chess. We talk.” 

“Okay, yes, you talk. But have you tried flirting with him?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No… But then why is he just staring at me and not talking to me?” 

“Why have you been staring at him and not flirting with him?” she shoots your question back at you. 

“I don’t need your logic right now,” you groan, rolling over to shove your face into your pillow. 

---

“Has she always stared at me this much?” Remus asks Sirius nervously as they lounge in their dorm. 

James was at quidditch practice and Peter had solo detention. 

“Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to her, Moony. Might be a better question for Prongs.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because Y/N’s always with Evans? And he stares at her quite often. Come on, mate. Two plus two.” Sirius gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to her at all since?”

Remus doesn’t answer, letting the silence answer for him. No, he hadn’t. The amount of times he’s caught you staring at him over the past two days is startling. Each time, you would turn red and look away almost immediately. He hasn’t been able to focus as much in classes, not when he knows you might be looking at him, not when Sirius thinks he might actually have a chance with you. 

“Have you… oh, I don’t know, considered talking to her?”

“Padfoot,” Remus says tiredly. 

“You can’t ask a girl out without words.”

“You would know.” It comes out more as a sigh. 

Remus doesn’t want to admit it, but yes, out of the Marauders, Sirius had the most experience with girls. But whether his “expertise” could actually be trusted was up in the air. He never stayed with a girl for too long and he wasn’t sure if it was his choice or a result of his actions. 

“Yes, I would know. And if she has been staring at you as much as you claim, even if just these past few days, ask. her. out.” 

“What if she’s just been zoning out? You know, when you stare but you’re not really looking?”

“She’s just been zoned out in your direction multiple times a day?”

“Yes.”

Remus knows it sounds ridiculous, and that’s only enforced when Sirius chuckles from the window where he’s smoking. Then he’s standing up and offering Remus one. 

“Stop being so dense,” he says. “And so hard on yourself. I know what that voice in your head is saying.”

Remus takes the cigarette and follows Sirius back to the window.

“And what is it saying?”

“That you’re not worthy of love or attraction, that you’re not attractive. So how could lovely Y/N actually like you when you’re, well, you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Remus says dryly before taking a drag. 

“Oi, not saying any of that’s true.”

Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Ask. her. out. And you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

The two boys sit on the window ledge for a while, each going through a few cigarettes. Silence fills the room. Sirius is more than content to just let his brain empty while Remus’s mind is running circles around itself.

Was he imagining the blush when he caught you staring? Were you staring because you liked him? Were you just staring into the distance and turning red because you realized you were staring at a person? How often did you stare at him? Was it because of that Potions lesson? What if you were staring near him and not actually at him? Was he being narcissistic to think you looked at him? He sat by Peter, James and Sirius in every class. It was very logical to think that you were staring at one of them. 

“Shit,” Remus mutters.

“What?” Sirius’ voice sounds far away despite being right next to him.

“She’s been staring at you.” 

Sirius laughs.

“No, Pads, think about it. You’ve been next to me every time I’ve caught her staring. It makes so much sense!”

“Moony. You’re delusional,” Sirius says. 

James enters the dorm. Sirius’ eyes light up.

“Prongs, help me out here!” Sirius calls as James throws his bag down on his bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Y/N. Has she been staring at me or Moony in class?” 

“I’m not getting in between you two if you’re fighting over a girl,” James says, laying down on the floor near the window.

“Not fighting over a girl,” Remus says, giving Sirius an annoyed look. “Padfoot just figures you’d know who she stares at, if she’s staring at all, since you, you know, stare at Lily.”

“I do not!” James exclaims as he sits up rapidly.

Sirius laughs, “She’s not in here and we know you do. Don’t lie.” He pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette. “For Moony’s sake, does Y/N stare at him during class?”

James slowly lays back down while giving Sirius a wary look.

“I swear, if I get hexed for answering…”

“Not going to hex you!” Sirius says.

“She stares at Moony. A lot. Think she pays more attention to him than lessons.”

“So she’s gone for you!” Sirius barks, clapping a hand on Remus’ knee and causing him to grimace. “Fucking told you!”

---

You make a serious effort to not look in Remus’ direction during classes. It kills you. It’s been your habit for years and you’re quitting cold turkey. You’re both grateful and mortified that Remus hasn’t called you out for it; he can’t call you out for it if he hasn’t talked to you. 

It doesn’t help that Lily has started gently nudging you every time Remus enters a room or sits remotely near you. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what she’s thinking. 

“You’re the first thing he looks at when he enters a room,” she whispers during Transfiguration. 

“Or he’s looking for the Marauders,” you retort just as quietly. 

“Yeah, right,” she says sarcastically. 

Professor McGonagall flashes a harsh look in your direction and the two of you fall silent. You’re thankful that she didn’t call you out, or worse, ask you to share what you were talking about with the class. That would have been mortifying. 

You’ve been successful in your mission to not stare at Remus so far, despite the insatiable urge to do so pulling at your eyes. You swear, the man is magnetic. It doesn’t help that Lily has suddenly become relentless in her nudging and subtle poking.

“What?” you hiss, looking down at your notes.

“He keeps looking this way.” 

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to McGonagall. While Lily’s words stoked the flame of hope in your heart, you didn’t need to be losing house points for not paying attention. 

When class ended, Lily put her things away at record speed.

“Potter! Wait up!” she calls, leaving you behind.

You frown as you briefly watch her go. You usually walked to your next class together. You knew that she smelled something like James in the Amortentia and that had fueled her new friendship with him. And as much as you liked seeing your friend this happy, you didn’t like that it meant walking to your classes alone. 

Except when you exit the classroom, you aren't alone. Remus is right at your side. You walk in silence for a few paces. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s charged. Despite the other students in the corridor with you, you swear you can hear every step you take. It doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating in your throat. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask. You keep your face straight, knowing that if you look at Remus, you’ll likely trip, fall and embarrass yourself.

“Oh… I’ve been relatively good.” He pauses momentarily. “James hasn’t shut up about what he smelled in the Amortentia.” 

You try not to laugh. “Lily’s not been too shy about it either. I think she’ll say yes sooner or later.” 

Remus gestures ahead of you to where the two are. “Seems like it.”

Silence falls between you again. You were used to being with Remus in the quiet; that’s how it usually was when you studied in the library together. Except that was different. When you studied, you had your books in front of you and you were both scribbling away, scrawling on  parchment until your inkwells ran out. 

“Did you really smell the library in the Amortentia?” you ask, breaching the silence. You’re not really sure what made you ask, but something inside of you needed to know.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I did,” he answers. He’s not looking at you in the same way you’re not looking at him, meaning you’re both trying to gauge the other’s expression in your peripheral vision. “What did you smell? You got pretty quiet after smelling the potion.”

“Oh, um, I smelled… nail polish, chocolate, parchment,” you listed off with a glaring omission. 

Remus let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed in your answer. He was hoping you had smelled something more obviously him. It didn’t register in his brain that he was the chocolate and parchment you smelled. 

“That all?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Was the library all you smelled?” you retorted defensively. 

You saw his features tense. 

“Was it?” you repeated, more gentle this time, like talking to a scared child. 

“It was the library. Everything that encompasses my usual visits,” he starts to say as he turns to look at you. “The books, fresh parchment, ink, your perfume.” 

You stop walking. Remus notices immediately, having been watching you and your expression. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t tell if your reaction is good or bad, based on your wide eyes and sharp intake. You swallow, looking up at the taller, scarred boy next to you.

“My… perfume? You smelled me?” you ask. “You smelled me in the Amortentia?”

Remus flushes with embarrassment. He feels like he should’ve known better than to trust Sirius on this. He was a self-proclaimed ladies’ man afterall. 

Remus nods. He doesn’t know if he trusts his voice, but then he starts rambling.

“I thought… Sirius said you couldn’t look away from me so he said I had a chance, but obviously, if you don’t feel the same way… I don’t want this to change anything between us. I don’t want it to be awkward. I really value our friendship. I’m so sorry if I just ruined it, but I like you. I really do. I have for a while, but I’ll try to stop if it makes you uncomfort-”

“Remus,” you say firmly as you grab his arm. 

He stops talking immediately. His eyes search yours for an answer that he realizes he probably cut off. 

“What do you always carry with you and share with me in the library?” you ask, your voice just as firm.

“Chocolate?” His brows bunch in confusion.

“And what you always, always have a fresh roll of?”

“Parchment?”

“And… I may have smelled one more thing. In the Amortentia.” You took a breath. “Your cologne.”

“My cologne?” he echoes like how you had repeated him earlier. 

You wait for him to connect the dots, pressing your lips together. 

“So you smelled chocolate, parchment and my cologne?”

“Don’t forget nail polish.”

He chuckles. He takes your hand that’s on his arm and holds it in his own. 

“What you’re saying is that I do have a chance? That Sirius was right?” 

“Sirius was right,” you laugh. 

“In that case, would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I would love to come to Hogsmeade with you, Remus,” you answered with a smile.

Maybe Sirius does know a thing or two about girls, Remus thinks as he walks with you to your next class. 

Tags: @oursweetmoony, @pinkdaiisies, @iloveremmy, @3sriracha, @auntjezzy

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Smile For The Camera, Baby 📸 (Geto x Plus-Sized!F!Reader 18+ One Shot) 

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Plus-Sized!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you decide to volunteer to model for your friend’s lingerie line photoshoot when the original model gets sick and meet the very sexy photographer who isn’t letting you leave until you realize how gorgeous you are. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Highkey Flirting; Inappropriate Touching; Sexual Tension; Alcohol Consumption; Pet Names: Mama, Baby; Sugar (for Geto); MDom!Geto x fsub!Reader; Strangers to Lovers; Tongue Kissing; Striptease; Mutual Oral; 69ing; Facesitting; Praise; Edge Play; Lewd Pictures; No PIV Sex; Facial; Exhibitionism; Aftercare Cuddles 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I wrote this about a year ago, but it ended up being flagged (ugggggggh!!!) lol so I wanted to revise & repost it for Geto's birthday!!! This is how I cope with my baby being d*ad & gone. I also know for a fact Geto loves women of all shapes n sizes! I hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

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

“I-I don’t know about this, Maki.” 

About two weeks ago, you were initially okay with taking semi-naked and possible naked photos for your friend’s lingerie shoot since her model got ill. It wasn’t on short notice since the date for the shoot was during the weekend and you were getting paid for your time.

Plus, spending a hot afternoon trying on cute lingerie and sipping on Moscato seemed like a great afternoon, indeed. 

But now that you’re standing here among the lights, luxurious furniture, and the rack of lingerie with your sundress draped across your plump body, all of that easiness is gone and not even a glass of Moscato can fix it.

Especially when you just found out a few minutes when you arrived here to the studio that Maki wouldn’t be taking the photos but her friend, who is a man you’ve never met before, would be. 

“Why not?” Maki whines disapprovingly. She is standing by one of the lights, trying to get it right so it illuminates your skin and brings out the soft glow of your makeup. She gave you time to do your hair and makeup when you got here since the walk from your home to the studio was a hot one. Even though your apartment is only five blocks away, the hot weather has a vengeance, and you showed up coated in sweat, glad you took a shower and applied extra layers of spray deodorant to your inner thighs earlier before leaving your crib. 

Though you know look and smell good with your pink, gloss lips, glittery eyeshadow, and rose-scented perfume, neither does much to curb your anxiety. You fidget with the hem of your dress, unable to look Maki in the eye. “I’m just not comfortable with this guy takin’ photos of me,” you mutter. 

“Y/N, I told you,” Maki sighs, “Geto is a professional photographer. He’s taken many shots for my business before! Did you look at his portfolio? I sent it to you two weeks ago.” 

You timidly nod because you did. Though you have no clue what Geto looks like, you will admit that he has immense talent. While you sat on your laptop with your Chinese takeout two weeks ago, you scrolled through his photos that ranged from nature for National Geographic Magazine to photos of the prettiest women for Maki’s lingerie line. The way he managed to capture each thing, whether an animal or a human, and bring out the best in them was incredible. 

But your anxiousness isn’t just the fact that he was a man that happened to be taking your photos today since the original photographer had to go out of town for her sick mother. It’s the fact that each woman Geto photographed for Maki’s line don’t look like you. They’re much smaller with perfectly flat stomachs and hour-shaped figures; perky breasts and thighs that have not an inch of cellulite. 

You’re unlike any of them. You have stomach; triple D titties that you have to pay an arm and a leg for when it comes to bras; an ass and thighs dimpled with cellulite; pudge that makes your arms bigger than you’d like them to be. Your size is the reason you tend to stay away from bikinis and crop tops in the summer; opting instead for sundresses that reach your ankles and even jackets that hide your shape. Your shape is why you don't date as much, too afraid of rejection despite your pretty face and cute smile. 

You’re used to men ghosting you or standing you up after getting a look at you below your chin. It’s humiliating to be in your body and to be treated in such a way. What angers you most is that you take care of yourself–you eat your fruits and veggies; you drink water; you exercise–and yet you’re still criticized by society for the body you’re forced to live in. 

That’s why when Maki asked you to model for her new summer lingerie line, you were more than happy to participate, thinking it’d be a great way to boost your confidence. Plus, you get to keep the lingerie you like. But now, all you want to do is hide away from the blinding lights above, feeling too hot and exposed beneath them. 

Maki puts a hand on her slim hip, fixing you with a stare. “He’s not gonna hit on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighs. “Geto doesn’t really date since he’s always working. And we don’t have time for you to change your mind, girl! I need these photos in by next week!” She turns to her sister. “Mai, back me up here!” 

Mai, lounging on the couch for the shoot with her legs crossed, looks up from her book with a bored expression. “I’m not in this,” she deadpans before looking back down and flipping a page. Maki growls in frustration at her sister’s refusal to help before turning back to you. “Are you sure this is just about the fact that a guy, who is a professional photographer, is taking your photos today?” She cocks her head to the side, still giving you that fixed stare. 

You flush in your sundress. She knows exactly what’s going on and wants you to say it. 

“The girls he shoots for don’t…look like me,” you carefully confess. “I’m much bigger and I’m afraid that–“ 

“Okay, stop.” Maki walks up to you and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “First of all, shut up. You’re fucking beautiful, no matter what shape you are, and I specifically picked you because you know how to work a camera and I want this new line to be inclusive to all sizes.” You flush at her compliment. “Second of all, Geto is going to take these pictures regardless of your size because it’s a fucking job, Y/N! He doesn’t care how you look!” 

She pauses, reiterating, “Well, he does, but only in his photos. Your body is your body. Plus, he is fully aware that the model today is a plus-sized woman and he still said yes.” 

“What’s the big deal?” Mai asks, shocking the both of you. She is looking up from her book and at you from under her black bang. “It’s not the end of the world that you’re fat, Y/N. You’re actin’ like fat women exist.” 

“Mai, come on!” Maki scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You couldn’t have used a better word? Maybe plump or chunky?” Mai shrugs, flipping another page in her book. “Maki, they all mean the same thing,” you giggle. “Fat isn’t a slur.” 

And it isn’t. Despite what you’ve been taught and shown by society, 'fat' isn’t negative, bad, or ugly; it is exactly what you are. You know you aren’t negative or bad and you sure as hell aren’t ugly just because of your extra pounds. And you know that this photoshoot can show you that.

“Mai is right…you both are.” You squeeze Maki’s hands still on your shoulders and nod at the little table where a chilled bucket of Moscato and glasses sit. “Maybe I just need a glass of Moscato.” 

Maki squeals excitedly, wrapping her arms around you to give you a hug. “Comin’ right up, girly!” She races over to the bottle to pour you a glass, but as she does, she becomes distracted by the sound of pounding footsteps. “Oh, and look who’s here! Right on time too, but then again, he’s always punctual.” She grins happily, giving you a wink. 

You look toward the open door where the studio’s staircase lies–the ones you had to walk up and nearly pull a muscle because the elevator is broken. There, you find a pair of big ass boots attached to an even bigger, taller man. 

You realize that you’ve never seen Geto’s photo before, so it takes you a moment to register that you’re looking at him in the flesh. To say he is hot is an understatement. He has to be about 6’0 with a large build. His muscles push and flex under his black tee that is soaked in sweat and his jeans are tight on his thick, muscled legs and slim waist.

His long, black hair is pulled back into a high bun that accentuates the sharp lines of his face, especially his cheekbones and jaw. Dark ink cascades up and down his big biceps and arms, stopping at his hands where several rings adorn his fingers. 

Geto comes into the room, appearing like a giant with how big he is. He stands much taller than you, Maki, and Mai combined. He could probably break you in half. “Please tell me you’ve got some water up here,” he huffs, lugging his backpack over his shoulders. His handsome, reddened face is glinting in sweat and are his thick neck and the collar to his tight tee. 

Maki points to the table at the back where drinks and snacks are set up. “Right on the table over there. Just put your stuff down over there, too.”

Geto nods and walks farther into the room. As he does, his eyes meet yours from across the room, rendering you speechless and suddenly in need of air. His eyes remind you of two purple amethysts–beautiful yet almost hard to look at. His gaze is intense and fixed as if he sees every single part of you under your dress. 

The smell is fortunately broken when Geto moves to the snack table and turns his back to you, allowing you to get a look at his ass in them jeans. “Close your mouth, Y/N,” Mai snickers, suddenly beside you. “You’ll catch flies.”

You flush in embarrassment, feeling like a perv. “Shut up,” you mumble. Mai just snickers, knowing damn well you’re whipped. 

Once Geto finishes setting up his equipment from his backpack, including a camera, Maki brings him over to introduce you by his arm. “Geto, allow me to introduce the woman of the hour and my best friend, Y/N.” She motions over your body, making you feel even more exposed. “Y/N, this is Geto Suguru. We call him ‘sugar’ for short.” 

Geto rolls his eyes, taking his arm out of Maki’s grasp. “You didn’t have to mention that.” His violet eyes meet yours, pinning you to your spot. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” And his voice! The deep timbre of it makes your pussy tremble. 

He sticks his hand out for yours. Tentatively, you take it, ignoring how big, calloused, and warm his hand is. “Y-You too,” you stammer. You give him a smile in an attempt to not seem awkward. “Um, I like your photos. You really have a way with your camera.” 

He doesn’t smile but you catch the corner of his lip twitching upward at your compliment. “So I’ve been told,” he replies, and you have to resist the urge to close your eyes at the sound of voice. You want to hear it all the time, in your ear. 

Realizing your hand is still in his, you release your hold and place your hands behind your back, feeling like the horniest perv alive. You catch Maki subtly smirking at Mai. “Mai, let’s give them time to get acquainted,” she giggles. “Help me organize the rest of the lingerie, will ya? Y/N, feel free to pick which one you wanna do first!” 

Before you can protest or beg for them to stay, they’re already walking away from the shooting area for another table covered in lingerie pieces. Though they’re a few feet away, you feel like now it’s only you and Geto in the room. You stand there awkwardly for a few seconds, not saying anything. The silence is thick with tension despite Maki and Mai whispering among themselves. 

“U-Um!” you loudly stammer, catching Geto’s attention. You walk over to the rack of lingerie near you and pick out a bright fuchsia bra and panty set. “Is this set okay to start with? I figured I’d do one with color for the summertime.” Geto’s eyes flick to the set before setting back on your face. “That’s fine with me. We do want you want.” 

“Cool!” you squeak, wincing at the volume of your voice and the way you’re acting. “I-I’m gonna go change now. I won’t be long.” Before Geto can say anything more, you take a glass of Moscato and hurry off to the bathroom to change with your set. Once you’re behind the four walls, you can finally breathe and settle yourself (and your body) down. 

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” you huff to yourself in the mirror. But you know exactly what’s wrong: that fine ass piece of man is the problem. He makes your body react in a way it never has before with any man. Your breathing is labored and your heart hammers like you just ran a marathon. Your head feels dizzy. Your pussy is throbbing and possibly soaked from the scent of Geto’s cologne wafting in the air. 

You know realistically that you can't go back out like this if you don’t want to jump Geto’s bones. So after downing your glass and splashing some cool water on your neck, you change into your set along with some gold heels to make the color of the lingerie pop. After fixing your hair and applying a slick of gloss on your lips, you put on your silk robe and slowly walk back outside for the shoot. 

Geto is setting up the camera on a stand while Maki and Mai stand around, sipping their glasses. 

“I’m finished,” you timidly announce. “Is it okay?” All three heads turn to you and you feel hot with embarrassment under their gazes. “Is it okay?” Maki guffaws. “Girl, you look like you need to be wined, dined, and given six orgasms! Doesn’t she, sugar?” 

You have no idea why she asks Geto, but you’re even more confused at the silent and intense stare the man gives you. His eyes roam over your body, drinking in the way the bra cups hold in your plump breasts, your thick legs shine with coconut oil, and your jiggly stomach is adorned in lace from the waistband of your thong.

You don’t know if he likes what he sees, but it makes you feel uncomfortable either way. The way he makes you feel makes you feel especially uncomfortable. You have to squeeze your thighs together in an effort to lessen the throbbing you feel between them. 

Geto clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “I’m gonna go set up my laptop,” he mutters before storming off to his backpack. Maki turns to you with a knowing smirk. “He agrees.” 

“Stop it,” you groan, closing your robe to shield your body. “You’re gonna embarrass him and me. It’s not easy for me to be in this weird-ass position.” Maki rolls her eyes behind her spectacles. “Oh, come on! He knows he likes what he sees. Did you notice the “fuck me” eyes he gave you when he saw you in that little sundress?” 

You think back to Geto’s intense stare your way as he walked into the room and shiver. “I think you’re just tipsy, Maki.” Maki gapes at you, offended. ���I am not!” she scoffs. “I only had two glasses!” Mai bumps her hip with her sister’s, giggling. “You know damn well you can’t handle your alcohol, sis.” 

Before Maki can jump down her throat though, Geto comes back with his laptop and a jump drive. “I’m all set up now,” he announces. Maki squeals loudly, nearly taking your eardrum out. “Great!” she cheers. “I’ll set up the music and let you guys do your thing. We’ll be right over here making sure everything goes well.” 

After a few minutes, the shoot is under way while the sisters stand off to the side, watching and giggling among themselves. Your playlist specifically made for this photoshoot is playing from her Alexa orb and you have another glass of Moscato in your hand. You can already feel the first glass affecting you, making you feel lighter. Geto stands behind the camera, fiddling with the buttons. “Let’s start with you standing with the backdrop.” He tilts his chin towards the blush pink backdrop. 

You nod and slowly walk over in your heels, feeling like Geto might be watching your ass despite the silk robe covering it. You don’t turn around to look at him when you finally, though hesitantly, disrobe and reveal every part of yourself to him and the camera. When you turn around, he is already staring at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Why you look so tense?” he chuckles. “You nervous?” You huff with a shy laugh, your body feeling hot and shaky. “Does it show?” 

“A little, yeah,” he replies, snapping a quick photo as a tester. “Just relax and feel free to drink your glass…actually, keep it in your hand with some of the photos. It adds to the aesthetic with the lingerie.” You nod and keep your glass in your hand as you strike your first pose, one hand on your hip and your eyes set dead at the camera. 

The camera light flashes, nearly blinding you. Geto hums approvingly. “Perfect,” he says, his deep voice caressing you. “Stay right there…tilt your chin up a bit.” He bends down once more to snap a picture as you do as he orders, tilting your chin up slightly and mustering the sexiest expression you can possibly do. 

It starts to become easier and less awkward the longer you stand there, posing from the front. 

After a few pictures, Geto peers up at you from the camera. “Turn around for me,” he huskily orders. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your pussy excitingly clenches at him giving you orders. Slowly, you turn around, exposing your ass in the cheeky thong that makes it look extra plump and juicy. 

“Look at me over your shoulder,” Geto orders. You do so, peering at him over your shoulder, and he snaps a picture. “Perfect,” he chuckles, a gorgeous, white-toothed smile adorning his pink lips. “You’re a natural at this. You sure this is your first time?” 

“Thanks,” you giggle, flushing at the compliment, “and yes. I’m just a volunteer since Maki’s original model got sick.” You put your glass down and pose without it, putting your arms behind your head. Geto snaps a pic. “Is that all to why you decided to do this?” he curiously asks. "To help out your friend?” 

You shake your head, smiling into the camera tense. “Guess it’d be fun. Plus, I thought it might boost up my confidence since–“ 

“Shit!” Maki shouts, groaning in frustration at the end. Geto immediately stops his work, alerted. “What is it?” he demands, already storming over to them.

You stand there, afraid to move in your heels and possibly break your ankle. Maki sighs, irritation all over her face. “I totally forgot we had a meeting scheduled with the Macy’s team today for a partnership. I have to go.” 

“And I have to drive her since her car is still in the shop,” Mai says as Maki begins to rush to gather her things. Mai turns to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Y/N.” You look at the sisters, realization hitting you like a train. “So…you’re both leaving?” you anxiously ask. “Will you be back before the shoot ends?” 

Maki checks her watch as she shoves her tote bag onto her shoulder. “We’ll see, but most of the time, those partnership meetings last forever. But don’t worry; we’ll call to make sure everything goes smoothly and you have plenty of drinks and snacks.” She walks over to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

She leaves a ring of gloss on your cheek and anxiety twirling in your gut at her departure. “But–“ 

“We’ve gotta run,” she quickly says before you can protest. “Love you, see you later, bye!” She hurries over to the door with Mai in tow, giving Geto a wink as she does. “Thanks again, Geto! Expect your deposit by next week.” And then, just like that, they’re gone. And only you and Geto are occupying the room. 

“I guess it’s just us then,” he awkwardly announces, walking back over to his camera. You slowly nod, adverting your eyes from his to stare at the door. “Yeah…” You desperately want the sisters to come waltzing back in and announce that the meeting was cancelled, but you know that is but a fantasy. You’re forced to stand there in this damn silence with this hot ass man, semi-naked. Could things get any worse? 

As if sensing your discomfort, Geto clears his throat, gaining your attention. He stands by the camera stand, his tatted arms crossed over his broad, hard chest. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can tell you’re uncomfortable and I would be too if I was in your position.”

He nods at your body, making your body flush with heat. “I get it: strange guy with a camera; you’re semi-naked. It’s like the plot to a horror movie.”

You crack a smile at his dark humor, giggling softly. “Well, when you say it like that…” You fiddle with the lace on your thong’s waistband. Geto continues to stare at you, making you feel like he has X-ray vision. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m scared,” you softly explain. "It’s just–“ 

“Don’t explain yourself to me,” he interacts, sounding firm. “Today is about you more than it is about me. I want these photos to please you too, so I want you feelin’ uncomfortable and at ease more than anything. If you say no, I’ll take care of Maki, maybe tell her somethin’ came up.” 

You blink at him, taken aback by his words. “You’d…do that for me?” you ask in disbelief.

“‘Course. I’m not an asshole, and plus, you’re her friend. I’d rather her be pissed at me than you.” He shrugs as if it is no big deal, and maybe it’s not, but to you it gives you a sense of how sweet and considerate he is. If only there was someone out there like that for you. 

You shake your head determinately, picking up your wine glass. “No, let’s do it. I’m here, you’re here, and we both want a check.” You take a long sip of your wine, letting the alcohol loosen you up further. “I’m ready,” you announce with a bright smile at the camera. “Let’s take some photos.” 

Geto looks surprised at your cooperation at first, but then smiles. “I like the attitude,” he chuckles. “And the smile. Keep that there for a few pics.”

He bends down to snap a few as a light, feathery feeling overtakes your body and your confidence shoots to the roof. “Sure,” you giggle, already feeling the affects of the wine hit you…or maybe that’s just the smell and closeness of Geto. 

An hour goes by of photos you take in different lingerie by the backdrop. The lingerie you pick is bright in color, making your skin complexion pop, and makes you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

Geto’s looks shot your way also help. His gaze is so bold and intense behind the camera, though you’re sure it’s because he’s a photographer and is analyzing how he can get you to pose or something. The rest of the photoshoot is a piece of make and less awkward than earlier. You dance a little to the music from your playlist and giggle, oblivious to the adoring gazes Geto shoots your way behind the camera lens. 

When Beyoncé’s “Cuff It” begins to play, you are on your third glass of Moscato and Geto is on his first. After getting your photos taken in an aqua-blue lingerie set, he takes his camera off the stand. “We’re finished?” you ask curiously. 

“Just the first half with the backdrop,” he replies, nudging his head over to his laptop. “Lemme show you what I’ve got so far.” You unstrap your heels and follow him barefoot over to his laptop. He sits down in the wheeled chair and gets to hooking his camera up. In an instant, dozens of your headshots and photos fill his screen, each one different than the last. 

But neither one makes you feel any different than how you do staring at them: Sexy. Confident. Like the baddest bitch on the block. The lighting is perfect on your makeup and skin, and each color of your lingerie seems to pop. “Wow, Suguru!” you happily gasp. “These look amazing! You made me look so…so…beautiful.” 

Geto chuckles as he scrolls through each photo. “Well, I didn’t make you look beautiful, but the camera enhancements definitely help. Maki will love these, I’m sure.” 

“Of course, she will!” you giggle. “Photography is definitely you’re calling. Why’d you decide to make that your career anyway?” 

He shrugs, still lazily scrolling through your photos. “Photography is art,” he explains, “and I’ve always loved art. To me, there’s more to taking a photo than just snapping a camera. There are so many aspects and techniques that go into making one picture perfect, such as capturing beauty. You need to learn how to preserve it…worship it…”

He pauses, his hand on the touch pad, and slowly turns his head to meet yours. “Care for it,” he murmurs. 

Your breath catches in your throat suddenly, realizing how close he is. You’re overwhelmed with his cologne and the smell of his shampoo–something spicy, like cinnamon, and clean, like rain. His violet eyes trail down to your lips, just for a second, before moving back to capture yours in an intense, heated stare that makes you want to strip off your lingerie and let him touch every single part of you. 

‘Girl, what the hell?’ you think, shocked at your naughty thoughts. It must be the wine. You clear your throat and take a step back away from Geto. “Um…we should get back to takin’ photos,” you softly mutter. “You know…so Maki won’t kill us. I’ll go change into the next set.” 

You quickly head toward the rack of lingerie and choose a random one before hurrying to the bathroom, abruptly ending whatever was about to transpire.

‘Which was nothing,’ you firmly think. ‘Geto is your photographer. A professional. And even if something were to happen, it’d be a mess.’ You keep trying to reason with your horny side as you change into the next set. 

When you come back out in a lime green teddy bodysuit with a push-up bra and thong, Geto is standing by the lion-claw couch with his camera. “Let’s take some with you on the couch, then we’ll do some on the bed and then on the balcony. Just sit down with your legs crossed for now.” 

You nod and take a seat on the soft couch cushions with your thick legs crossed over each other. You plant your hands on your knee and make a lustful, sensual face at the camera. “Perfect,” he compliments as the camera shutter flashes for a couple pics. “Now lie on your side with your hand on your hip. Use your other hand to prop up your head.” 

You slowly get into position, staring at the camera eye. “You want me to make love to the camera?” you giggle. 

Geto chortles, the sound of his deep laugher making your clit jump. “You’ve been doin’ that since you got in front of the camera,” he replies, but you don't think he’s joking about that. He takes a few shots of you in his desired position before moving on. “Now take your hand and hook it over the couch.” 

You do so, still staring at the camera and hoping you look just as good as you did in the first set. The song has changed to Beyoncé’s “Virgo’s Groove”–a song that somehow makes you believe that you’re the sexiest version of yourself right now.

As you pose, you become aware that the atmosphere has changed to something more tense. Geto must realize it too because he suddenly rises from behind his camera and stares you down. “You’re so damn fine,” he suddenly says. 

You scowl at him, confused. “I…what?” you dumbly ask. 

“I said you’re fuckin’ fine,” he repeats without a single beat. “Why you needed a lingerie shoot to make you feel more confident with a face and body like yours is beyond me. I’m just glad I get to see you like this.” 

Your heart thumps wildly as you continue to pose, not sure if you should stop. Geto snaps a photo regardless, acting as if he didn’t just say something so bold and flirty five seconds before. 

“You shouldn't say that,” you weakly say. 

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Why shouldn’t I?” he teasingly asks. “Can I not admire a very sexy woman like yourself?” 

He snaps another photo, the flash of the camera catching you off guard. “You can't tell me you didn’t notice me checkin’ you out when I came in here. If you’d let me, I’ll take photos of you in that little sundress of yours too.” His gaze is way more heated than before, the flirty smirk on his face making you feel even more uncomfortable as you lounge on the couch. 

But not uncomfortable in the way where you want to be away from him. On the contrary, in fact. You want to be closer than close to him, no clothes in between. The tension you’re feeling in the air and the clenching of your pussy are starting to get to you, driving you crazy. 

Geto’s words are to blame for that. Though flirty, can tell he is deadass. He sounds so sure; so real. No jokes or nothing. He isn’t a profile on a dating app or a hookup who is only seeing you in the darkness. You’re in front of him–all of you–and he still is looking at you like he wants a piece. 

He takes your silence for something different and stops snapping photos for a moment. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he worriedly asks. You sit up from your position, planting your ass on the couch. “No,” you softly answer with a slow head shake. “I’m just not used to getting compliments like that. Especially from someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” he parrots, raising an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, knowing he wants you to elaborate and embarrass yourself. “You know you’re fine,” you sigh, “and men as fine as you don’t really see me as anything but…well, fat. If they don’t look at me as a hookup, they barely look at me at all.” 

Once the truth is out there, you feel stupid and small. Why did you tell him that? He could never understand or care. Maybe those three glasses were a bad idea. Geto only stares at you, silent and making you feel uneasy. Suddenly, he comes around the camera and strides up to you, making your heart pound with every step. When he suddenly sits beside you, the couch dips slightly from his weight. 

“What are you doing?” you softly ask, barely above a whisper. 

Slowly, he takes his hand and lays it on yours which is placed on your thigh. You shiver as if his hand is touching your naked skin. “I forgot to tell you the other reason why I decided to become a photographer,” he softly mutters, his voice like a rumbling earthquake to you. “To capture pretty little things like you.” His fingers on his other hand trail up and down your leg, as soft as a butterfly’s wings. “To make them feel beautiful with the work I do.” 

Your breathing is labored, your chest rapidly heaving up and down. “I-I’m not little,” you softly stutter. Geto chuckles, believing different. “You sure as hell are, even from where I’m sitting.” And he’s right–the man is still towers over you despite sitting down. 

You barely crack a smile. “I mean, I’m not…little like the girls you’re used to photographing.” You squeeze at your thigh fat, frowning. "I have arm and thigh fat, and cellulite, and–“ 

“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Geto growls, holding your hand tighter. He scoots closer to you, completely in your grill…but you don’t move away. “And I’m not leavin’ here today until I make you see that. So can I kiss you?” 

You gape at him, shocked at his brazened question and attitude. He stares at you, patiently waiting for an answer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips that look so soft and pink. You wonder what they feel like…or taste like… 

You barely hear yourself whisper out “yes”, but Geto does. You barely have time to take a breath because he is leaning in and pressing your lips to his. It starts off innocent and careful, his soft lips slowly moving against yours. But once he finds that rhythm, the kiss becomes sensual; heated; panty-dropping. 

Geto is a fantastic kisser. Probably the best you’ve had. His lips are pillowy soft and his tongue tastes of mint gum and Moscato as he swirls it with yours. You don’t remember moving closer to him or wrapping your arms around his neck, but there you are, on the couch, making out with your photographer. At some point, he grasps your hips with his big hands and coaxes you into his lap despite your squeak of protest. You’re worried you might hurt him but from the way his hands are gliding along your ass, you guess he doesn't give a fuck. 

“We don’t have to go any farther than you want to,” he murmurs between heated kisses and moving lips. “I wanna make you feel good, but I don’t have to do that in any way you’re uncomfortable with.” Though you hear his words, you can feel the hardened bulge that has begun to grow in his jeans that you nudge against, rubbing against your clit. 

 You don’t know if it’s the wine, the music, or him, but something inside of you suddenly switches on, transforming you into the sexy version of yourself that are in Geto’s photos. You want to put the lingerie you’re wearing to good use and you know Geto is the perfect person to help you with that. “You could start by takin’ more photos of me,” you purr, peering down at him. “And I can take these off.” You take his hands and glide them down your sides, making him feel the sheer bodysuit. 

Geto’s eyes are hooded and dark as he gazes up at you, ready to do whatever you want. Then a mischievous smirk curls onto his lips. “Actually, I have a much better idea.” He slowly takes you off of his lap and hurries over to the camera, pressing a few buttons. “I’m gonna set the camera up right here on auto. It’ll go off every thirty seconds, so every time you make a move to strip, it’ll take a pic.” 

He slowly strides back over to you, making you tremble with every slow, teasing step he takes. “That means I’ve got my hands free to touch every part of you,” he hums, a slow smile stretching across his lips. As if backing him up, the camera shutter goes off, flicking a photo of you sitting there and gaping at him. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Well?” he asks. “Get to strippin’.” 

With trembling hands, you slowly begin to take down the straps to your bra, exposing your naked shoulders to him. Then you reach behind to unhook the bra but can’t reach no matter how much you wriggle around. Geto peers down at you, smiling humorously. “Need help, mama?” he chuckles. You nod sheepishly, flushing hot at the pet name curled around his deep voice. 

He gets on his knees in front of you, coaxing your thighs apart, and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. Once it’s loose, your tits come falling out of the cups like dripping fruit, your brown nipples erect. Geto almost looks pained at the sight of them. “God, look at these tits,” he groans. “You’re just as perfect as I thought you’d be.” 

He leans in and plants his face into your breasts, nuzzling his face in them. You squeak as he does so, frazzled by his action as he motorboats you. He must like titties. After getting his fill of your breasts in his face, he latches his lips onto one of your hard nipples and suckles on the sensitive peak. With his other hand, he toys with your other breast, gently folding and jiggling it, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

You whimper and moan at each of his ministrations, losing yourself in his touch. He is careful to not hurt you, but he isn’t being soft either. He is handsy and hungered like a starved man, switching between your breasts to give each nipple their own treatment until your tits are coated in his saliva. “Suguru,” you softly moan. 

“Hm?” he hums, still swirling his tongue around one of your areolas. You arch your back into his mouth, your hips grinding against the couch cushion for some relief. “P-Please…touch me.” 

He peers up at you from your tits. “Touch you where?” he teasingly asks. You whimper shyly, still squirming about. “Don’t be shy now, baby girl. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

The heated look in his eyes and the need you feel encourage you to leave that shy shit on the shelf. “Touch me here,” you whisper heatedly. You move your hand between your legs, pressing your fingers against the tiny cotton panty line pressing against your throbbing cunt. “Touch my pussy. And please, get those clothes off.” 

Geto smirks wolfishly at your dirty words. “I can definitely do that.” 

He gives your lips a heated, chaste kiss before he stands before you. The song bumping from the Alexa has now switched to Kehlani’s “Can I”–a tune that is fitting for what’s taking place before you. Geto keeps his eyes set on you as he begins to strip, starting with his boots and socks then starting on his shirt, pants, and boxers. He peels each article of clothing off, flinging them across the floor, forgotten. 

Once he is completely naked in front of you, you’re able to indulge in all of him. His body looks as if it was carved from stone itself–each muscle ripples along his body like hard granite stone, not too overwhelming but definitely making you feel like he could break you like a toothpick with how small you are. He truly is a big man, with big hands, big feet, and an even bigger dick. He has to be about eight inches–thick, long, veiny, and dripping with pre-cum all for you. You can’t take your eyes off of it despite the rest of his body being delicious. 

“Like what you see, baby girl?” he hums, teasingly swinging his hips a bit. It causes his dick, thick and long, to swing like a pendulum between his thick, tree trunk-like thighs. You nod, moving to get your hands on him, but he takes your wrists firmly in his hands. “Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Not yet. You told me to touch you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” 

Without a warning, his hands move under your ass and hoists you up onto his waist. “Oh!” you giggle, surprised and extremely aroused at his strength. He plops you down onto the couch so you’re now lying on your back. He props himself up on his knees between your thighs, peering down at you. “As pretty as this lingerie, I need it off of you.” 

Helping you sit up, he gets the rest of the lingerie off of you and pulls it down your ankles that are still strapped in your heels. Once it’s off, you’re completely nude, just in your jewelry and gold heels. The fact makes you shy and want to hide away but Geto’s lustful expression stops you. His big hands slide up your legs and slowly pry your thighs apart, revealing your aching, glistening, wet cunt to him. 

“Fuck, you’re wet!” he chuckles, looking up at you between the V of your thighs. “All of this for me, baby? You barely know me.” 

And that’s true. You only know as much as his website and Maki have told you. But you find yourself not giving a shit. “Maybe we can get to that later?” you breathlessly suggest. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you over dinner.” 

Your suggestion registers across Geto’s face and his gaze darkens to something way more sensual than before that he knows that this isn’t a hookup. “I know a damn good pizza place near here, if you’re up for it. But lemme make you cum first.” Without another word, he tosses your legs aside and dives into your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and gently sucking on your lips. 

Yes, Geto is a great kisser, but he’s even better at eating pussy, you realize. His mouth alternates between using his lips to suckle gently on your pussy lips and clit to using his tongue to slowly flick the inside of your tight pussy walls. He takes his time, his movements deliberate and methodical, taking each moment to draw a moan or a whimper out of you. 

You’re losing it. You toss your head back against the pillow and grip the couch, your fingers digging into the couch cushions. “Fuck, sugar!” you shout to the ceiling, the nickname flying out of your mouth. How the fuck is he this good with his mouth? 

Geto looks up at you, his eyes shining from between the V of your inner thighs. “Call me that again,” he growls before spitting a copious amount of spit onto your pussy and slurping it back up, the lewd, wet sounds driving you farther to insanity. You grip his shoulders as he keeps his hands firmly placed on your inner thighs, pinning them up so your heeled feet are perched high on his head. 

“God, sugar!” you whine. “Please keep doing that! You’re so…so…” 

All words and thoughts leave you, the pleasure leaving you dumb. You want to control yourself, but it’s especially hard when he swirls his tongue around your clit and dips into your little wet hole to pay attention to you there. He slurps up every ounce of you, not leaving a single drop to waste. 

You hope he’ll be able to handle it when you cum because you can already feel it rising. That chord in your core is about to snap with how soft his lips are and the way his nose constantly keeps nudging against your sensitive little button. “Geto,” you moan in a warning. “I-I’m gonna–” 

“I can feel it,” he groans into your pussy, still lapping away. “Cum on my face, mama. I wanna taste all of you.” He grips your thighs and moves his jaw faster, coaxing you further toward that edge, his tongue flicking mercilessly against your clit. “Cum for me,” he demands. “Don’t fuckin’ hold back.” 

But you can’t. Not yet. “Wait!” you practically shot. He sits up, alarmed and his mouth coated in your juices. “I-I wanna cum with you,” you softly say. “I wanna feel you in my mouth…in my throat…”

You move to fondle his cock, earning a lustful groan from deep in his throat. “Please, Sugu,” you whimper. “I need you.” 

Geto raises an eyebrow at you. “You wanna 69?” he asks, shocked. “You’d have to sit on my face for that. Is that okay with you? ‘Cause I’m close to cumming just by the thought of this ass in my face.” He reaches down to give your ass a smack, making you jump slightly. 

Though you’ve never 69-ned with anyone before, you know that you want to feel Geto’s dick down your throat now and nothing can curb that hunger until you do. So you nod, determined to not let your insecurities about you weight get to you. Without another warning, Geto lies flat on his back and pats his lap for you to climb up into. With a soft giggle, you twist around so your ass is facing him and you’re looking down at his hard cock waving in your face. 

You feel Geto’s arms instantly wrap around your waist, forcing you to plant your ass back onto his face. You squeak, instinctively tensing. “Shh, it’s okay,” he coos, gently stroking your backside. “I can take you easy if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you to feel good.” 

His dick begins to bob up and down in front of you which you realize he’s doing on his own. Fuck, this man is dangerous. “Relax, mama,” he soothingly says. “I’ve got you. Just take what you need.” 

And so you do. With a fire igniting inside of you at the sight of his veiny, thick cock in front of your very eyes, you wrap a hand around the base of his dick, biting your lip at the fact that you can barely fit it all in your hand. You start by spitting a copious amount of spit onto his cock and stroke it up and down his shaft, making him shine with your saliva. Geto groans softly at the feeling of your tiny, soft hand wrapped around him from underneath you and begins to gently play with your pussy, gliding his finger up and down your twitching lips and clit. 

After lubing him up with your spit, you lean in and press small kisses along the head of his dick, throwing some kitten licks in the mix. He loves that. His toes curl and his hands clench at his sides as more porn-worthy sounds drift from between his lips. 

After gaining enough courage, you finally open your mouth wide to accommodate to his size and take him into your mouth. “Fuck!” he grunts as soon as your lips and tongue make contact with his dick. You begin to bob your head up and down along his dick, sliding him in and out of your mouth. You stroke in time with what you can’t gobble down, making sure to keep a secure grip along his slick, wet cock. 

He tastes good. He smells good. He feels good. He sounds good. All of your senses are completely taken over by him as you suck and gag on his dick, hollowing your cheeks and opening your throat to take him deeper. “Such a good girl,” he groans, one hand curling in your hair. “Takin’ that dick so deep in your pretty mouth like that. I bet a girl like you has been needin’ this, hm?”  

His lewd words encourage you to take him deeper, so much that you start gagging because of how thick he is. He practically fills your throat, making you nearly choke on it. Your eyes begin to well with tears, possibly fucking up your mascara. 

But you never give up or stop. You’ll be damned if the first blowjob you give him is the worst one he’s had. You take things slow, allowing yourself time to get used to his size as you slide your head up and down, up and down, along his dick. His moans get louder, his grip tighter on your waist as you gag on his dick like it’s no one’s business. Saliva drips from your mouth down his heavy balls, and you find yourself wanting to suck on those too. 

“Fuck, baby!” Geto growls, his hand coming down to spank your ass. The sharp sound of his hand recoiling against your plump ass makes you moan around his dick. “You deserve the same treatment,” he huffs, his hot breath caressing your twitching pussy. You suddenly feel his tongue begin to swirl around your clit, alternating between that and softly sucking on the sensitive, little bud. 

“Sugu,” you whimper, your words muffled around his cock. Drool pools from your mouth and down his shaft, dripping all the way down his balls and onto the couch below. You continue to bob your head up and down his shaft, adding your own sloppy, wet sounds to his as he plays with your pussy with his tongue like it’s his own personal playground. 

His big hands grab and massage your ass, spanking it here and there. Every time his hand comes down to smack one of your ass cheeks, your pussy clenches in his mouth. It’s just too much! 

Click! 

Your eyes shift to the left, finding the camera still on auto and taking pictures. You realize that it’s been on auto this entire time. You almost forgot that Geto set it up that way before he helped you strip off your clothes. How many pictures of you are there? And how many of them are with Geto? 

The idea of the camera taking such risqué pictures of you turns you on, especially if the photos are of you and him in this position–you sitting perfectly on his face with his long dick in your throat while your pussy is in his mouth, your thighs spread wide for him.

How would Maki react if she saw such photos by accident?

How would she and Mai look if they were to enter the studio right now and find you spread out like a dessert plate for your photographer? 

The naughty ideas make you gush much to Geto’s enjoyment. He hums into your pussy, causing your clit to quiver with pleasure. “Feelin’ good, baby?” he coos into your pussy. “Think you can cum for me just like this?” 

‘I…” You can’t even utter one coherent word as he widens his mouth and takes your whole pussy into it, his tongue swirling around your little hole.

You quiet your desperate moans by gobbling down his dick once more, stroking your hand in time with the bob of your head. You’re so glad the music is still blasting because neither one of you are quiet. Moans and sloppy sounds of your activity swim around you, filling the air. 

Your jaw begins to ache and your eyes water the more you take Geto into your throat. However, when you begin to feel him swell in your mouth, stretching it out further, you know that you can't give up. Not until you make him cum. So you go faster, gluck-glucking all around his cock like your life depends on it. At the same time, you can feel your clit begin to swell and you start to grind your hips down into his face like he’s your personal surfboard. 

Geto chuckles from underneath you, holding your hips down against his face. “You gonna cum for me, mama?” he mumbles into your pussy. One of his hands move to your ass to press against your entrance, barely entering but still giving you all the pleasure you need. “Mmm-hmm!” you squeal around his cock. “M’so…so close!” 

You can feel that cord in your core about to snap again, the feeling rising every time Geto repeats his actions. You can tell he’s close to by how his hips begin to bump against your mouth, making you take his cock further down your throat. “Me too,” he grunts. “Keep goin’ and I’ll cum for you too, baby girl. Is that what you want?” 

His thick finger suddenly slides easily into your slick, wet pussy, practically making you scream. You pop off of his dick, gasping at the feeling. “Yes!” You sob in ecstasy. “Please, sugar! Please give me your cum! I wanna cum with you too!” 

That is all Geto needs to hear. Like a madman, he clamps you farther down onto his face so you can’t move, flicks his tongue along your sensitive clit, and strokes your walls a little faster, coaxing you to burst all over his face. “Cum for me, mama,” he growls into your cunt. “Cum all over my face, Y/N.” 

And as you bob along his cock, you finally do. The strength in his hands pinning your thighs open and his wondrous mouth push you over the edge. You begin to grind your hips into his mouth, chasing that orgasm like a high. Finally, with a mewl-like moan and your eyes screwed tight, you burst all over Geto’s mouth and the couch cushion beneath you. Your orgasm crashes into your body, making it shiver and shudder with aftershocks as Geto continues to softly lap at your pussy. 

After a few moments of continuous work, Geto finally follows you down that hill into the sea of bliss. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he groans, and you suddenly feel him burst all in your mouth. His cum shoots out onto your tongue, immediate and creamy. It surprises you so much that you react your mouth a bit, causing his cum to spurt all over your lips and face, ruining your makeup. 

Geto groans appreciatively at your mouth and taste, eating you up like an hungered animal. Your mind is hazy and your body feels as light as a feather as you begin to come down from your high as you begin to lap up his cum, cleaning his cock for him. It is by far the best orgasm you’ve had. 

Finally, once he’s sure you’re cleaned up and way too sensitive for more, Geto removes himself from between your thighs. With his help, you slowly move off of him though your legs feel like jelly. “Easy now,” he coos, helping you sit down on the couch cushion. He sits up from his spot, his chin and mouth shiny with your cum and his saliva. 

“Mmm,” he hums, licking his plump, pink lips free of your juices. “Definitely better than Moscato.”  

You breathlessly giggle, licking his cum from your lips. “You too,” you purr, earning a chaste kiss against your lips. “I may need a towel though.” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry, baby. You just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself. Stay right here.” He gets up from the couch and walks to the bathroom, his tight, firm ass a sight indeed. 

After a few minutes of lounging on the couch, exhausted but satisfied, he finally comes back with a warm, wet towel and helps you dab off his cum, careful not to ruin your makeup. After you’re all clean, he wraps his muscular arms around you and slides you into his lap for closer access. “That was amazing,” you sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He hums in agreement. “It definitely was.” He moves his hand to your forehead, wiping away a stray piece of hair from your sweaty forehead. “Now do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? I bet you would from those naughty lil’ photos now.” He presses his lips to your neck, making you whimper as he kisses the sensitive parts of your skin. 

“We still have to finish the photoshoot,” you softly moan as his hands move to caress your breasts. “Maki will be mad if we don’t.” He groans in protest, but moves away from you anyway. “Maybe after some pizza?” he suggests, smirking at you. “I made a promise to you, didn’t I?” 

Realizing he was serious from the start, you can do nothing but giggle and press a kiss to his lips, feeling giddy at this new, blossoming feeling of something real starting. 

When Geto pulls away from the kiss, his eyes trail down to your body. “Damn; I really made a mess,” he chuckles. You look down, finding your tits and stomach to be coated in his cum too. You reach for the towel but he grabs it first and holds it out of reach. “Geto, I need to get clean!” you whine. 

“Not just yet, mama.” He smacks your ass before coaxing you off of him and moves behind the camera. You sit there confused and exposed, his cum dripping down your body, makeup and hair a fucked-out mess, and your pussy glinting in your cum and his spit. 

He grins at you, his teeth glistening white. “Stay like that,” he orders before bending down behind the camera. 

“Smile for the camera, baby,” he chuckles. Before you can protest, the shutter flickers. 

[sulkybender]

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[shiranuieditorial]

Professional editor here 🙋🏽 piping in to say that that sentence is 100% grammatically correct, but it could use a pair of em dashes (if following U.S. English standards) or en dashes (if following U.K. English standards) to break up that interior monologue or emphasised exclamation (whichever one you intended it to be) as an interjection/interruption inserted within the main sentence. It would help your readers’ clarity and understanding, and therefore, boost their enjoyment levels too!

So, yeah, it still stands that English’s grammar sphere is extremely flexible, twistable, stretchable, flammable, combustible, slice-and-diceable, and however the fuck else you wanna abuse it to your selfish satisfaction! You just gotta make sure your overall creation is still readable, parseable, legible, decipherable, understandable, and therefore, enjoyable—you know?

Unique author voices are completely different from grammatical errors and linguistic inaccuracies. The former is to be cherished! Treasured! Praised! Uplifted! Celebrated until the end of time! Meanwhile, the latter is to be reduced to a minimum, because we don’t need them if they don’t serve a very intentional purpose. A trained eye will be able to distinguish this without problem, which is indeed why human editors like me and my friends aren’t that easily replaced by AI—thank you very much!—but this elephantine task certainly takes on a differently flavoured toll when an author self-edits their own writing, especially if they don’t have years of specialised knowledge and training in the art of editing. (And trust me, it is a wholly different and just as serious of a skillset as the writing part itself.)

Now, whether or not you plan to work with a trusted professional editor later on is up to you to decide (I mean, it’s obviously recommended, but the choice is still in your hands; and even if you do hire editors, the final choice to accept or reject their suggestions is also still in your hands), but here are a few things to keep in mind during your self-editing rounds:

Trust yourself, first and foremost! You’re the one who understands your story best. If something strongly resonates with you, keep it in. At the very least, it’d add a touch of you and your humanity to your creation, if nothing else.

Having your own unique voice is a good thing. You should want more of it, and no one should ever try to kill it off of you—not even yourself. Stay authentic to yourself, explore whatever interests you, and keep honing your storytelling voice(s) through practice, practice, practice—no matter how you think it “stands out against” or “blends in with” or “doesn’t hold a candle to” or “bastardises” other people’s creations you’ve interacted with. Your voice is solely yours, and that is so, so valuable.

If you heavily suspect something contains a technical error, check with reputable sources, like some bigwig dictionary’s example sentences section, or whichever style guide you’ve chosen as your patron saint, or various editor(ial)s’ blog posts and articles, or Q&A/AMA sessions with editors or linguists, or you could try your luck and slide into their DMs if you have a particular someone you admire, or whatever combination of those options you fancy the most.

If you’ve heard or read someone irl (including yourself) say those words or that phrase/sentence/monologue before, then it’s probably fine, dude.

For hearing folks: Say it aloud. Use various text-to-speech settings to read it aloud to you. Have your friend or relative read it aloud. Does anything feel wonky, somehow? Does anything need a sprinkle of pizzazz to liven up the dead air? Do these words fit the mood you’re currently feeling during this scene? Did your companion stutter at any point?

Let your writs marinate alone for as long as you can afford to. Forget about it. Then, come back to it with a fresh perspective—not one of an author’s nor an editor’s, but pretend you are a reader who is reading some anonymous writer’s work with the intention of simply sinking into the read and enjoying whatever is served.

The world isn’t divided into “grammatically correct” and “grammatically incorrect”. There are many other variables to composing, writing, editing, proofreading, and speaking. If you have the time and headspace to learn about them, do so. Finding the proper terminologies to describe your ideas and experiences will benefit you with great satisfaction.

Punctuation marks, symbols, spacings, margins, line breaks, paragraph breaks, scene breaks, chapter breaks, placements, pacing, etc. are difficult and time-consuming for us copy editors too. Don’t beat yourself up for struggling with these technical details, but also, don’t be so afraid of them that you omit them entirely from your writs. Instead, shift your energy and attention to creating and maintaining your very own author’s style sheet, which you can then pass on to your editor to upgrade and tidy up for you as you kick back and relax, but it can certainly help ease your own writing process if you’ve sketched up your own guide for yourself.

Editing any piece of work—fiction or non-fiction or any hybrid of them—should always prioritise the author’s original vision and goals above all else. Don’t treat it like grading schoolwork with checks and crosses and /100 scores. There is no right and wrong to the art of writing. Why did you start writing in the first place? What do you want to explore and express in your crafts? What do you want your readers to get from your story? How do you want them to feel about your characters? What message are you trying to tell, and why is it important? Do you want to impress people more with your substance or your style? Linguistic unorthodoxy be damned; if your quirky choice gets the point across with all the right vibes and nuances ticked off, then go for it!

Remember that language is constantly evolving… as it should! What was once regarded as “incorrect” a century ago could easily be the norm nowadays. If you’ve decided to become the progenitor of a new trend, then you better own up to it! Be unapologetically compelling.

Remember that there is always a solution/answer to your confusion/curiosity. Even if you don’t find what you’re looking for right now, there’s still hope. Either you’ll find clarity when you least expect it, or you’ll create homemade organic closure for yourself, one way or another. The possibilities are endless. What matters most is to trust the process and never give up on yourself!

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

[kxtsukixoxo]

OOO TOKOYAMI FRIENDS TO LOVERS???? TOKOYAMI SITS INFRONT OF READER AND DARK SHADOW STARTS TO GOSSIP AND GIGGLE WITH READER QUIETLY (^_^)v TOKOYAMI AND READER EVENTUALLY START TO HANGOUT AND YK WHAT ELSE (*^-^) IDK IVE HAD THIS CUTIE IDEA FOR A WHILE AND YOURE THE ONLY WRITER I HAVE ENOUGH TRUST TO SHARE THE IDEA WITH </3

IM ABSOLUTELY HONOURED TO WRITE THIS OUT <33!!

from strangers to friends to lovers

ft. fumikage tokoyami

the new seating plan was weird, as much as you’ve been with your class for a year and still counting, you weren’t that familiar with the people surrounding you. you took a seat, deciding to just stick to yourself and hoping the day would go by faster if you did. it seems like the universe had the complete opposite in store for you. 

“psssst” you ignored it, thinking it was kaminari trying to call kirishima for something stupid 

“heeeyyy, you!” the voice whispered. you picked your head up, coming face to face with tokoyamis quirk. 

dark shadow. 

“hiiii!” the funny creature called. tokoyami seemed oblivious to this, considering he had his desk on the table, snoozing. 

“i’m bored” dark shadow crossed his arms, as he watched you complete your work. you smiled at him “what would you like to do then?” 

“oooo how about we play x and o’s!!” 

“sure!” 

tokoyami woke up to the buzzing sound of snickers and laughter, he turned around to see dark shadow and you, playing x and o’s, he watched the two of you have fun, unaware of the smile forming on his face, and just as he noticed. his demeanor changed, “that’s enough dark shadow, stop troubling the young lady” 

“awwww but we were having fun!!” dark shadow sulked as tokoyami scolded him. “it’s really no big deal fumikage, i don’t mind!” you grinned as dark shadow clapped his hands together 

“yayy!!” 

days went by, dark shadow grew attached to you, and so did tokoyami. you hanging out with dark shadow, meant also hanging out with tokoyami, and he became accustomed to your presence.  

tokoyami took a nap, as dark shadow doodled on the loose page you tore out of your book for him. “i think fumi has a crush on you!!” 

you giggled “wow, you really think so?”

“hundred!! he’s always smiling at you, he’s never done that before!!”

“idk bud, maybe he just warms up whenever he sees us hanging out ya’know?” 

“i’m telling you (y/n)!! he-“

“i what?” tokoyami peered at dark shadow

“whoopsie! nothing!” the cloudy purple shadow screamed. 

tokoyami facepalmed himself “i’m sorry if he said anything embarrassing, my deepest apologies (y/n)”

“it’s not biggie!” you giggled as the siren rang, indicating classes were over. 

tokoyami, exited the class faster than the speed of light, leaving you behind to eat his dust, “bye (y/n)!!” dark shadow squealed 

“fumi wait up!” you screamed as you gathered your belongings. 

after running for more than two minutes, you caught up to tokoyami outside the dorms. 

“fumi! hold on!”

“hu-“ 

you cut him off, “would you like to grab coffee with me” 

before tokoyami could answer, dark shadow did for him, “we’d love to!!” 

you let out a sigh of relief “perfect! see you in a bit then?” 

you left the two behind as tokoyami glared at dark shadow “come on! you had to make a move!” he had to thank dark shadow for that. 

weekly trips to café’s turned into daily trips after school, the subtle touch of his knuckles grazing your knee turned into soft glances of your side profile, and longing gazes from fumikage, as he stood across the room, more than an arms length away from you. 

he wanted you, but he was shy, and that’s where dark shadow would come in. 

you sat ontop of tokoyamis bed while the three of  you played cards, “and i win!!” dark shadow exclaimed “you’re such a cheater!” you exclaimed, throwing your deck on the bed. cards spilled everywhere, tokoyami rushed to pick

it up and so did you, the both of your lips inches away from each other, dark shadow noticed this too, giving tokoyami a nudge and forcing his lips to crash into yours. the peck left you hungry for more, “i-i’m sor-“ you cut tokoyami off, the kiss this time more passionate. “finally!!” dark shadow exclaimed, “you’re so dead” tokoyami grumbled. “i didn’t want things to play out this way, how about i take you out for lunch? 

“sounds perfect!” you placed a kiss on his cheek

he could get used to this. 

[iguana-eyanna]

From The Bird's Eye View Chapter 5

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Although you achieved your dream of being a designer, you never considered meeting a man who's also a father.

a/n: This story line has been about 4 years in the making as "The Blood Within Us" was my favorite fic to write. I really wanted to finish the Bruce Wayne saga but I have been facing a lot of writer's block now a days. This current series will have two chapters that will be published in a few months. In the mean time, thank you for reading.

“Tim! You’re going to be late to school!” You yelled, knocking on his door once again. 

As if on cue, Tim was rushing towards his bag and trying to knot a tie for his uniform, murmuring sorry under his breath. 

You paused his power walk to the dining room and did his tie for him.

“I know your nervous about your debate competition tonight, but you don’t need to pull all nighters. Especially since you asked for time off on night patrol.”

“I know, I know. I was just reviewing my notes last night and slept on my desk. Didn’t hear my third alarm.” He said, seeing how you were done with his tie. 

“There. You know, I can teach you how to do it.” You said, walking with him to the table to eat a quick breakfast. Tim grabs a toast and some eggs on his plate.

“Mom, you’re a fashion designer, you’re a literal pro. Besides, you do it better than Bruce.”

“Thanks for the kind words.” Bruce replied, making Tim chuckle nervously. He presses a kiss on your head as he sat down next to you with his fixed plate. 

You look at your son who looked a bit distant as he rushed his breakfast. Call it mother’s intuition but you felt something was wrong.

“It’s time to head to head to school, Master Tim.” Alfred announced as he made his way to the car.

“Bye guys!” Tim yelled out before making his way out before kissing your cheek.

You look over to your son as he rushed his way out from the dining room.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask Bruce as he was about to drink from his mug. 

Bruce knows what you meant. About almost four months ago, Tim was captured by the Joker. That monster tormented him, trying to create a replicate of the conniving villain using unspeakable methods. When Bruce and Barbra Gordon saved Tim, the damage was already done. 

Tim went through extensive therapy and had night tremors. Both you and Bruce said to take his time before going back to school, but Tim pressed on, saying he’d be behind on all his school work and the new friends he’s made. But deep down, he just wanted to feel somewhat normal again.

“He’s keeping busy with school. Tim just needs an outlet to just feel like a teenager again. I thought I had to face every struggle when I was his age, I don’t want him to feel like that.” He said, taking a sip.

“I can’t imagine. At least he has you to guide him.”

“He has the both of us.” Bruce reached out for your hand, squeezing it.

You then left Bruce at home so you could go in the office. You were more busy than ever, especially when you were opening a Japan branch in the coming year.

Later on, you got a ping of your phone alerting you it was time for lunch so you left work and traveled farther away from the city.

You walked over in the uneven path. The sun didn’t glare too much and the breeze was soft. You had a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. They were small yellow flowers that had hints of dandelions. You then got off the path to a small patch of grass, now only a few steps away from where you’ve been visiting for sometime.

“Hi, Jason.”

Your son turns around, a bit in a daze as he heard his name. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here.” He said, turning around. He was about to give you a hug but paused, unsure if the embrace was welcomed. You give him a sympathetic smile and closed the gap between you two, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“Sorry, not been used to this in awhile… also, not really sure what I’m doing here.” He said, looking back at the cemetery, staring at his name on the tombstone.

Jason Todd: Friend, Brother, & Son.

Son.

That word felt foreign to him. 

It’s almost been a month since he’s reunited with the family. After days of constant fighting with Bruce under his alias of The Red Hood, it was time to end this never-ending battle of his anger and come back home. 

“I usually come here to clear my head and talk to you.” You said, dusting away the leaves that were on top of the gravestone. 

He knew since his death that you took it the hardest. Even when you took in Tim, that hurt never left your heart. And now that he’s here, you’ve been healing day by day. 

The world knew of Jason’s death. It was featured in every news channel and tabloid. You and Bruce never cleared how he passed and you all decided as a family to have an interview with Lois Lane, who was the only person you trust for the most fragile time in your family. 

And people bought that he was in a protection detail of some sort, but for some reason… it didn’t sit right with you. It was like no one cared that he was gone for so long and could magically appear like nothing has happened. 

You try to have him open up, but he didn’t want to have you bear all his pain for him.

But isn’t that’s what a mother should do for her child?

“You know your room is always there for you, right?” You ask Jason as you turned to him. He’s been crashing most nights with Roy Harper, as they had a scuffle the first time they met again, but had a tearful reunion with each other.

“I know, but I think it’s time if I found a place for myself. Dick is helping me find some apartments in Blüdhaven. But I’ll pop in time to time to be with you guys.”

You smile at him, giving him a comforting side hug. 

“You always have a home with us.”

He smiles as he kisses the top of your head as he was now much taller than you.

“C’mon, let’s go get some food.”

+

Bruce looks down at his desk in his study room, looking down in his hands that held a small leather box. 

“Master Bruce?” 

Bruce looks up and sees Alfred alone, and Bruce released the breath he was holding onto nervously.

“Has the package arrive yet?” Alfred asks, locking the door before heading towards him.

Bruce softly smiles as he shakes his head yes, giving Alfred the small box.

“Just came after she left, I’ve been anxious for weeks.” 

“Well, it’s not every day Gotham’s most famous bachelor would one day be off the market.” Alfred teased as Bruce opens the box, revealing the engagement ring for you. 

“That’s why I bought out the restaurant where we had our fifth date.”

“Fifth date?” Alfred asks, sitting down opposite of Bruce.

“Well, first date wasn’t an official date, second one we had Dick join us to go to that ice cream parlor, third I had to cancel halfway due to Clayface III, fourth we had movie night at her place and fifth… it was when I realized that things can be different.” 

Bruce admits that starting a relationship with you, he didn’t have the right intentions. He could never deserve the love you give him. He swore that he’ll make it his life’s mission to make up every mistake that has affected you.

And almost after 8 1/2 years later, he’s finally decided to ask you to marry him. Yes, Bruce could have asked you many times before hand but there has been so many set backs and memories you both wish to forget, but he feels now is the most perfect time to start a new chapter with you.

“Where is she now?” Alfred asks.

“Getting lunch with Jason, he just sent me a message just now.”

“So you and Master Todd are talking again?” Alfred asks, knowing things haven’t been easy with son and father.

“We’re uh, slowly getting there. He even asked if he could spar with Tim tonight.”

“I don’t think that’ll be such a good idea.” Alfred warned.

Alfred has seen how Tim’s been reacting lately since Jason’s arrival. Tim has been questioning what’s his place would be now that the prodigal son has returned, and better yet, what his status is in this family.

“We’ll all have a talk afterwards. Everything is going to change tonight.” Bruce said, with hope in his eyes.

Alfred gave a small smile and got up, heading out of the office. 

“Indeed it will, sir.”

Meanwhile, you and Jason just came back to the manor as you mentioned that Bruce was taking you out for dinner tonight. It’s been awhile since it’s been the two of you, so you were very excited. 

Jason, for some reason, became silent once you arrived back home. Before you go up on the steps, you look over at Jason who was staring down in his lap.

“You’ve awfully been quiet recently.” You said, looking at your son.

Jason purses his lips and looks at you with uncertainty. 

“I know I’ve been keeping some stuff about what’s happened to me in the last few years. I just, don’t know how to tell you without breaking your heart again.”

You raise your hand up to his and squeeze his hand.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Jay. Ever since you’ve been back, I feel like something is going to rip the carpet under me and I’ll lose you again. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

Jason sniffles and wipes away his watery eyes. 

“Thank you.” Jason replied.

You smile at him gently and hug him.

“I uh, heard you’re gonna be hanging out with Tim tonight. I think that’s great that the two of you can talk for real this time, maybe having a big brother would help him move forward.” You stated.

Jason just nods his head, knowing what you meant.

He then followed you inside and headed straight to the bat cave, awaiting for Tim. In ten minutes, the young Drake boy looked uneasy, like he was about to meet his creator. 

“H-Hey.” Tim said, shifting on his bare feet as he entered the bottom of the bat cave.

Tim has been dreading this day.

Sparring with Bruce and Dick benefited Tim’s fighting skills. Bruce taught him calculation and timing. Dick supported encouragement and using your instincts. 

But Jason? In his time as Red Hood, he has killed men, mercenaries, you name it. And now that Jason was here ready to fight, Tim was scared that maybe Jason would use all his anger on him.

Jason bandaged his hands and took off his shirts. Every inch of his skin was etched with faded scars and bullet wounds. Tim gulped loudly as he prepped his stance.

In an instant, Jason charged first, taking Tim off guard.

“Hey! We didn’t start yet!” Tim yelled out, being knocked down on the ground.

“Lesson one, Drake: A fight can happen any time, any place. Never lose your guard.” Jason offered his hand. As Tim received it, Jason lifted him off the ground and body slammed him opposite of where he laid.

“Lesson two: never trust if your opponent has mercy. Always protect yourself.” 

Tim huffed out loud before jumping on his feet, wiping away the sweat and the cut on his brow. 

Jason looked too calm for this spar. Not an inch of his hair was out of place, even his white streak by his widow’s peak shown brightly in the dark cave.

Tim ran forward, striking with his right fist. Out of nowhere, Jason took out a small ninja star and flicked it towards Tim’s face. Just in time, Tim ducked it and body rolled on the mat, looking at Jason like a mad man.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tim screamed out loud.

“Lesson three: Be resourceful. Take anything in reach to your advantage. Bruce didn’t teach you these things?” Jason asked, circling Tim like a vulture flying around its prey.

“Bruce taught me how to sharpen my hacking skills, how to control my body in duress.” 

Jason scoffed as he looked at Tim. 

“I thought you had something in you, but I was wrong. What kind of Robin are you?”

That statement broke Tim as he tightened his fists and struck Jason in the chest. Jason staggered a little and looked at Tim, smirking.

“There he is!” Jason yelled out, almost mechanically.

Tim furrowed his brow and took a punch again to Jason’s shoulder. Jason looked like he was enjoying this little fight and took another punch from Tim.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Tim asked, getting frustrated.

“I wanna see what you can do, surprise me.” Jason smiled wickedly, raising his fist.

The two of them began to strike again, wanting to know who the last man will stand.

+

“It’s been awhile since we had a date night.” You said, holding Bruce’s hand as you two were being driven by Alfred to your mystery date. 

“I know, a lot has happened and I thought the two of us deserve some time together.” Bruce said, rubbing his thumb across your thigh from the slit of your dress.

“And what would our time be spent on tonight?” You ask, gleaming.

“A night of your favorite cuisine, soft music in the background, and a melted chocolate soufflé.” Bruce replied, leaning in for a kiss.

You smiled as you kissed Bruce, losing your hand in his dark ravenous hair. You could feel his hands in the back of your dress, trying to find the zipper by your spine.

“Bruce…” You warned as you felt his lips by your neck.

“We have until 15 minutes till we get to the restaurant. I just want you to myself for just a little bit.” He whispers, feeling his hot breath by your ear.

“I bet you won’t last for 8 minutes.” You dared.

“Make it 6”  Bruce remarked, seeing a sly look in his hand.

You two smiled as you both couldn’t help but take your hands off each other.

A knock is heard from the driver’s cabin, alerting that Alfred could possibly hear every word you’re saying. 

You cover your mouth in embarrassment as Bruce couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

“Why don’t we wait after tonight?” You ask Bruce, straightening up in your seat.

“Of course, I’ll behave just for you.” Bruce reaches out for your hand, kissing it as you blushed.

Your fingers intertwined with each other as you look lovingly in each other’s eyes.

+

The two sons were getting tired. Jason was heaving his chest, as Tim may have bruised ribs from being kicked a few times too many.

Tim, now sporting a deeper cut by his temple, tries to wipe the trickling blood from his forehead with his arm. Tim refuses to back down, especially to Jason. An idea pops in his head and he slowly circles around Jason, taunting him.

“What makes you think you could be capable of teaching me to fight?” Tim asks.

Jason huffs and gives a wicked smirk. “If you’ve forgotten already, I have a reputation. Nothing gets past me.”

“You sure about that? Heard when you were Robin, you had no control, no conscience. Just chaos at every turn you made.”

Tim caught a glimpse of Jason’s tough exterior slowly cracking. Jason resumed in silencing, alerting Tim that his tactic might work. So, he took his chance and punched Jason by his left cheekbone.

“Did I strike a nerve?” Tim asks.

Jason was silent, but his eyes grown darker from their natural color. 

Tim almost felt worried, but he knew Jason would never do anything that could hurt him seriously.

Right?

“If we’re striking nerves, I wanted to clarify that I’m only here cause Ma asked me to come. Said she’s worried about you. But I see it in Bruce’s face. He thinks you’ll never be ready to go out on the field again. And frankly, I don’t think you’re able to.”

“Who says you have the final say? You just showed up to Gotham out of the blue just to prove that you’re what, the prodigal son? Please, I survived the Joker. You were overpowered by a man with no powers or strength. He was smart enough to end the job quick with you.”

A ripple soared through the air as Tim found himself on the ground as he held his left jaw as Jason was huffing his chest, breathing heavily.

Jason could only be described like a raging animal, as his dark past was catching up to him.

He grabbed Tim by the collar and raised him high as his feet dangled in the air. 

Right when Jason was about to make the first strike, he suddenly hears maniacal laughter.

‘Show him who you truly are…’ the voice sneered.

Jason staggered away as he dropped Tim, feeling his head pound. 

“Get out…” Jason held onto the sparring mat as he grit his teeth.

“J-Jason, are you alright?” Tim asks as he holds his side.

Jason whipped his head fiercely as he bear his teeth. 

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Tim took an immediate step back with fear in his eyes. Jason can see it to you as he forced his eye sight downward as he was crouched on the floor.

“You don’t know what it’s like… to have everything you ever wanted taken away in a single second. I tried protecting my birth mom by taking every beating that demon gave to me. I tried saving her from that bomb. I felt myself dying at an instant. Then I come back with half a mind of my own, still hearing that psychotic man’s voice in my head.”

Tim can see Jason almost crying as his shoulders were slumped.

Tim treaded lightly towards Jason as he slowly got on his knees, then slowly placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The older brother almost flinched with physical contact, but it was when he looked up to Tim who’s eyes weren’t full of fear but with sympathy. 

The two brothers get up from the sparring mat as Jason gave a heartfelt hug. Tim was shocked at first, but accepted the embrace.

“Amateurs, all of you.” A young voice said out loud.

Jason and Tim looked around their surroundings, searching for the voice.

Tim picked up a sparring bo staff and defended his ground.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” 

A quiet whip like sound pierced the wind as a small shadow lands a couple of feet by them. 

The figure wore dark ancient clothing, asian descent if Tim could describe it. The stranger lifted their mask off and revealed a boy, much younger than both the brothers.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked harshly as he shoved past Tim.

“Mother is on an important mission. I wished to join her but she told me to come here and meet father.”

“Wait wait wait, you know this kid?” Tim asks, lowering his staff. 

The young figure sneered from the last statement.

“I am to be respected and feared, my age does not limit my lethal skills, Tim Drake.” 

Tim had enough and tries striking his opponent but he swiftly moved out of his way and swept Tim off his balance, just like Jason has performed before.

“And he calls himself the smart one.” The child comments.

“Look demon spawn, no one picks on Drake unless me, okay? And you have shown up on the worst night possible. Bruce isn’t here.”

“I have waited for almost 10 years to meet him, what’s another hour?” 

Tim rises up from the mat as he looks at the child.

“Why do you want to meet Bruce?” 

“Because he’s my father.” The child crosses his arms

Silence filled the cave. Not even a gust of wind dare to make a whistling sound. 

Tim looks at Jason for confirmation as the elder brother bows his head.

“Then who’s your mom?” Tim dares to ask.

Damien beams with pride as he steps closer to Tim.

“Someone you should be very afraid of.”

+

After you and Bruce finished your very intimate dinner, your heart began to flutter.

"Bruce, you know that you didn't have to reserve all of the restaurant just so we could have dinner alone?"

You said, sipping your wine.

"Of course not, that's why I bought the restaurant from the owner."

"Bruce!"

You two started laughing out loud as you knew that Bruce wasn't serious. If you just met Bruce now, you'd think he's this pompous rich guy. You told him first on that he didn't need to impress you with grand gestures or money. As long as you two worked as a team who gave back to their community and their family, then you never had to question his love for you.

Those were all the things Bruce was thinking of saying to you tonight.

"What's in that mysterious mind of yours?" You ask.

He smiles to himself as he softly held your hand in his, feeling his chest tighten with slight anxiousness.

"There's been something I've been wanting to say to you for some time..."

He was about to get out of his chair until his phone buzzed. He looks at the caller and sees that it's Tim.

Bruce powers his phone off, thinking it wouldn't be important.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

"Yeah, absolutely. Where was I?"

"You wanted to tell me something." You said, trying to suppress a smile of your sudden excitement.

Bruce reaches for your hand and kisses your palm, giving you the most genuine gaze you haven't seen in a while.

"I have been wanting to do this for the longest time. Love, I-"

A sudden ring is heard from your phone as you reach towards your purse.

"It's Jason. I think the kids have been trying to reach us."

"They're fine, trust me." Bruce tries to change the subject but you shake your head.

"I don't know Bruce, something feels wrong."

You answer your phone as you place it towards your ear.

"Hi honey, we just finished eating dinner. What - J - You want to talk to Bruce?"

Bruce face turns shocked as you offer your phone to him.

"Jason, now's not a good time." Bruce says.

"Bruce, I wouldn't have called you unless it was important. You need to come back to the manor now." Jason said.

"Did you tell him yet?" Tim asks from afar but then his two sons started bickering.

"Guys, what are you two trying to say? Hold on." Bruce taps the screen and places it on speaker as he stood up facing away from your nervous state.

Tim takes over the conversation as he steals the phone from Jason.

"Bruce, some kid broke into the cave while we were sparring saying he's-"

"Wait, a kid broke into the cave? Why are you and Jason fighting?" You ask, raising form your chair.

"It's fine, I told them it's alright."

"Uh, I don't think so. Tim's still recovering from the last fight he's had and you left them both unsupervised!"

"They're fine, but can we handle the situation at hand? You're the one that wanted to call them back."

"And now you're blaming me for caring? Well excuse me for-"

"I tire of this nonsense." An unfamiliar voice said as they possibly took the phone away from the bickering siblings.

"Bruce Wayne, my name is Damian al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul and grandson of the powerful Ra's al Ghul. I am your rightful heir, your true blood son, conceived from 8 years ago when you were on a mission with my mother."

Silence filled both rooms.

"Perhaps the connection disconnected?" Damian asks the brothers.

"Nope, he heard." Jason said as the call suddenly ended.

Bruce looks at the phone, then back at you as your eyes filled with tears of betrayal.

Bruce tries to go up to you, feeling his throat tighten.

"Love, I-"

"Stop, please." You said, moving backwards as your voice lowers.

"I think its best we go back to the manor. Let's just talk later, okay?"

You try to smile but it failed as your eyesight was lost in more tears.

You leave Bruce standing there alone as you walked to the limo that was waiting outside.

"Hello Madame, I guess a congratulations are in order?" Alfred asks cheerfully as he turned back to you.

His face fell as he saw you trying to cover your tears with your left hand that had no ring. You couldn't even muster a sentence to the one person that has your one interest at heart for this night.

Alfred bowed his head in silence until Bruce came inside and sat far from you as you couldn't even look at him.

"Where to, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks.

"Home, there's someone expecting to see me."

"Who sir?"

Bruce felt hesitant to answer, but then he locked his gaze to the window.

"My son, Damian."

Taglist:

@thisnameistaken1234

@linora09

[hopelesslyprosaic]

I feel like The Six Napoleons is one of the best Granada episodes, and part of why is, of course, That Scene.

By which of course I mean this one:

All genius, but of course, even more specifically, the bit starting at about 5:52. You know the scene I mean, and if you don't by all means watch it!

Honestly, it's an in-a-nutshell demonstration of the greatness of both canon and the Granada adaptation.

Here's the scene from the book:

“Well,” said Lestrade, “I’ve seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We’re not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand.” “Thank you!” said Holmes. “Thank you!” and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and practical thinker once more. “Put the pearl in the safe, Watson,” said he, “and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case. Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.”

And here's the dialogue from the show:

Lestrade: I’ve seen you handle a good many cases in my time, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than this. We’re not jealous of you, you know, at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand. Holmes: Thank you! Thank you! Would you get down the Conk-Singleton forgery case please, Watson? Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.

Not many differences! ACD knew what he was doing- he knew how to write a good yarn, he knew how to write good characters, and he knew how to write a good interaction. Granada wasn't filmed in canon order, so we don't get to see the progression of Holmes's relationship with Lestrade per se, but after a number of excellent, more "foiled again!" type Holmes-Lestrade interactions since A Study in Scarlet, ACD decided to do something cool and different here and pulled it off beautifully.

And when the director and writer of this Granada episode put this one together, they decided that the relationship between Holmes and Lestrade should be a focal point in this episode, and not only did they barely need to change a dang thing in the ending to do it, what small things they did change were all beautifully in the service of the tone of the original ending, taking advantage of the brilliant material they had to work with. I was just relistening to the excellent episode of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes Podcast discussing The Six Napoleons, and one of them points out that one of the few text changes is removing the word "very"- going from "we are very proud of you" to "we are proud of you." And it works so well- it accentuates the contrast with the previous suggested notion that they would otherwise be jealous, between what Holmes might have expected to hear (and, indeed, perhaps expected to WANT to hear) and the actuality, and how much more meaningful it turns out that is to Holmes.

The creators here- and I of course include the actors, as both Colin Jeavons and Jeremy Brett act the fuck out of this- are so smart with how they pull this off. They know that what they have on the page is gold, but they also know how they can buff it up for a stronger shine. They know that Brett will absolutely eat up all of ACD's stage directions about his response, he knows the character inside and out at this stage, so let's keep the scene the way it is and, instead, build the rest of the episode around setting up this scene in such a way that it will have maximum impact as written.

There is one thing that is added- and that's the handshake at the end, that Holmes offers to Lestrade. We don't know what happens after Holmes's final words in the story, but in the episode, the physical acting continues telling the story only implied in the text of the short story- Lestrade is a bit thrown by Holmes's reversion back to his old, casually cutting self, but rolls with it, only for Holmes to extend his hand to him. Lestrade seems, even, slightly surprised- this is, perhaps, Holmes's rare gesture of pride in him.

[maul-of-shame]

The lady doth protest too much, methinks! Perhaps you should focus on acing your exams so you can get a job instead of writing 10,000 words on 'Haladriels Make Me Mad and I Need to Make Them Look Bad (Because No One Including Amazon The Writers and The Actors Care About MY Ship Elrondriel)'

Is it not rather interesting that you and valar-did-me-wrong publish all the anon asks you get, but not the hateful asks? How convenient that you both deleted them all! And then you lot turn around and accuse muslim POC haladriels of racism? We know you are liars.

BREAKING NEWS: Obsessed Clown Caught Doing Math! 🤡📏

The fact that you sat there, meticulously counting the words in my so-called "Haladriel rants" like some unhinged scribe in Sauron's library is wildly embarrassing. Did you use an abacus? A spreadsheet? Whisper each word under your breath with a single tear rolling down your cheek?

I don't need to make anyone look bad—they're already doing a stellar job of that all on their own. It's not my fault that some shippers can’t keep their ship afloat and are jumping from one sinking vessel to the next like it’s a game of "Who Can Self-Destruct Faster." I don’t need to lift a finger to make anyone look bad. The spotlight's already on them, and they’re doing all the work themselves.

Imagine being this pressed over fictional elves while simultaneously proving you're the one obsessed. You’re not debunking anything, you're just doing unpaid data entry for my fan opinions. Hope the internship at "Pathetic & Pressed Ltd." pays well.

The desperation is showing. You’re grasping at straws so hard I can hear them snapping from here.

First of all—since you clearly didn’t do your research before launching into this unhinged diatribe—I do have a job. Multiple, actually. I'm doing studies cause I WANTED to get back in school and have this added to the rest of my diplomas. I have validated my bilingual status three times. I speak and read 6 languages. I volunteer in local associations and charities. I run small businesses, I have online shops, I’m getting published for my writing and my art, and, funny enough, all of that still leaves me enough time to indulge in fandom fun. Imagine that! A person being able to do more than one thing at a time! What a concept!

Meanwhile, you’re out here acting like I am the one dedicating my life to policing ships, when you’re the one who showed up on my blog with a full thesis-length tantrum over fictional elves. Let that sink in.

Secondly, I have not deleted all my asks—because, unlike you, I don’t need to play revisionist history.

The hateful ones were posted, discussed, screenshotted, some shared in servers and with friends. So the idea that I’m hiding anything? Try again loser. You’re just stuck in your little echo chamber, refusing to acknowledge that many people—not just me—have talked about the racism, harassement, and toxicity within your corner of the fandom. But that’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You don’t want to acknowledge it. You’d rather deflect, distract, and double down than actually engage with reality.

And the best part? You came on anon because you know if your account was exposed, people would see you for the pathetic little vulture you are—hovering around, aching for attention, salivating over the idea of stirring up drama. You are not some brave warrior for truth. You’re just another pathetic, whiny little coward, skulking behind the safety of anonymity because you know that if your actual account was attached to this nonsense, you’d be clowned into oblivion.

Your mama must be so proud. Assuming she even knows she raised someone this chronically online.

Oh, and that dig about the actors and writers not caring about Elrondriel? You really had to bring it up to try and prove a point, huh? Dude, if it didn’t matter at all, you wouldn’t be this pressed about it. You are literally flailing in rage over a ship that lives in your head rent-free, and that’s hilarious.

People do not owe you a goddamn livestream of their suffering just to satisfy your insatiable need for proof. No one is required to put their pain on public display like some medieval spectacle just because you, a random, miserable little anon, demand it. What you really want isn’t proof. What you want is a reason to dismiss, diminish, and invalidate other people’s experiences so you can keep playing the victim while simultaneously being the aggressor. You want to act like an unhinged little vulture, circling around waiting for something to tear apart.

But let’s be honest—if you hate what I post so much, why are you always here? Refreshing, lurking, obsessing? You don’t just dislike me, you’re invested. And that’s what makes this even funnier. You’re not just mad—you’re a fan. A seething, bitter little fan who can’t look away.

Get a life. Preferably one that doesn’t revolve around throwing a fit over people enjoying fictional characters.

You're pathetic.

[elliecore4eva]

Ellie’s Journal - Part 3

Summary- After a fight leaves you and Ellie in unbearable silence, she does the only thing she can—she writes. Every word she was too afraid to say, every apology that got stuck in her throat, every moment she watched you slip further away. Five days of regret fill the pages of her journal, and when she finally hands it to you, all her fears, all her love, are laid bare. She doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she knows one thing: love isn’t perfect, but you are worth fighting for.

Thank you so much @mikellie for the kind words! i’m so glad you liked it! i was so apprehensive about writing but the love i received was just too good! i’m glad i get to write for amazing people like you! here’s ellie’s journal for you! i’m sorry it took so long! hope you like it!

Please show your love, reblogs, follows, likes, tags, comments and most importantly feedback is greatly appreciated for beginner writers!

The journal was heavier than it looked. Or maybe that was just the weight settling in her chest as she turned the first page. The paper felt worn beneath her fingertips, the ink uneven, like Ellie had pressed too hard in places.

Beside you, Ellie sat with her hands between her knees, fingers twisting in the fabric of her jeans. She hadn’t said much after handing it over—just a quiet, "It’s all in there."

You inhaled slowly, bracing yourself. Then, you read.

Day 1

"I knew I fucked up the second I saw your face. That flicker of hope—gone, just like that. Like I’d snuffed it out with my bare hands."

"You didn’t yell. Didn’t ask me to explain. Just stood there, silent, like you were waiting for me to fix it. And I should have. God, I should have."

The ink in the next lines was darker, pressed deep into the page.

"But I didn’t. I let you walk away."

Your throat felt tight. You remembered that moment too well—the way your chest had burned, how your fingers had curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms. You had waited for Ellie to stop you, to say something—but the silence had stretched between you like an open wound.

"I told myself I’d go after you. That I’d knock on your door, tell you I didn’t mean it. But I just sat there. A fucking coward."

Your grip on the journal tightened as you turned the page.

Day 2

"You didn’t speak to me today. Not once. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard silence like this. The kind that doesn’t just sit in the air—it presses down on you."

"You moved around me like I wasn’t even there. Like I was a ghost. I think that hurt worse than anything you could’ve said."

You remembered that too—the way you had avoided Ellie’s gaze, how you had brushed past her in the kitchen without a word. How you had wanted Ellie to stop you, to reach out, to do something. But Ellie never did.

"You left early. Didn’t say where you were going. You used to tell me everything."

"I wanted to ask if you’d eaten. If you slept. If you were okay. But I didn’t. And I don’t know if I ever hated myself more than in that moment."

The next line was hurried, the words smudged.

"I miss you. And I don’t deserve to."

Your breath shuddered as you turned the page.

Day 3

"I heard you crying last night."

Your stomach twisted.

"You were quiet about it. Thought I was asleep. But I wasn’t. I was lying there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the way you tried to muffle it. And I did nothing."

You clenched the edge of the journal, fingers trembling.

"I thought about turning over. Thought about wrapping my arms around you, pressing my lips to your shoulder, whispering that I was sorry. That I was a fucking idiot. That I didn’t mean what I said."

"But I just laid there, frozen. Like an asshole."

You swallowed hard. That night, you had told yourself you wouldn’t cry. That you wouldn’t let yourself break. But the moment you had felt Ellie shift beside you, her breath hitching like she was trying to steady herself, the dam had cracked. You had curled in on yourself, gripping the blanket so tightly it nearly tore, while silent sobs wracked your body.

And Ellie had done nothing.

"I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that."

You turned the page with shaky hands.

Day 4

"Joel noticed."

A sharp pang struck your chest.

"He pulled me aside today. Didn’t even ask what happened. Just looked at me with that disappointed dad stare. The kind that makes you feel like you’re ten years old again, caught doing something you knew was wrong."

"You talked to him. Laughed at something he said. And I just stood there, watching you smile at him like you hadn’t in days, realizing that I wasn’t the one making you laugh anymore."

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, gripping the journal so hard your knuckles ached.

"I think that’s when it hit me—the idea that maybe this time, I really lost you."

Your breath came unsteady as you turned to the final entry.

Day 5

"I gave you the journal today."

Ellie’s handwriting was slower, steadier.

"I almost didn’t. I almost shoved it under the bed and pretended it didn’t exist. But then I saw you."

"You looked at me like you were already halfway gone. And I knew if I didn’t do something—if I didn’t show you what you meant to me—I’d never get another chance."

"I don’t know if you’ll read this. I don’t know if you even want to. But if you do, I need you to know—"

The ink wavered, like Ellie had hesitated before continuing.

"I love you. I love you so much it makes my chest ache. And if you let me, I’ll spend every fucking day proving it."

The last word was written with so much pressure that it nearly tore the page.

You closed the journal slowly, pressing a hand against the cover as if it could steady the storm inside you.

Beside you, Ellie sat perfectly still, barely breathing.

The silence between you was different now. It wasn’t cold. Wasn’t heavy. Just waiting.

You turned to face Ellie. Her eyes were wide, glossy, filled with the kind of vulnerability that made your heart lurch.

Ellie swallowed hard. “I—” Her voice broke, and she shook her head, exhaling sharply before trying again. “I meant every word.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Ellie’s fingers brushed against your cheek, hesitant but warm.

And you broke.

A choked sob tore through you as you crashed into Ellie’s arms, clutching onto her like you were afraid to let go. Ellie held you just as tightly, burying her face into your shoulder, whispering apologies into your skin.

“I missed you,” Ellie rasped, voice thick. “I missed you so much.”

You nodded against Ellie’s shoulder, fists curling into the fabric of her hoodie. “I missed you too.”

You stayed like that for a long time—wrapped up in each other, breathing in sync, like you were trying to make up for every second you had lost.

And for the first time in days, the silence between you felt like something you could finally heal.

[misswhowrite]

the happy accident

Summary: Fred meets a muggle who will change his life.

(English isn’t my first language!!)

Fred could recall the exact moment he fell in love with his girlfriend, the moment he saw her he knew she was perfect. Their first meeting was special but he wouldn’t change it, he remembered each details.

It was a beautiful day at the shop for the twins, it was full of people who needed a good joke. Children were running everywhere, George was busy at the register with Verity and Fred was helping around the shop until he felt a tug at his vest. It was a little boy, around twelve, he looked around with frightened eyes. 

“_ Can you help me? I-i lost my sister and she doesn’t know much about this world and I didn’t mean to loose her I was just looking at the prank shelf and then she wasn’t there!

_ Okay buddy, calm down. What does your sister look like? I’ll help search for her.

_ She is small compared to you and she has brown hair, she wears a purple shirt… and I don’t remember anything else.

_That’s good okay. And her name?

_ Y/N”

Turns out they didn’t have to search because the little boy name was screamed across the shop, many times by a small woman looking panicked. When she finally saw her her brother she was relieved but became really flustered when she saw the young man beside her brother. And Fred was looking bashfully at the beauty before him.

“_Thanks god you’re here Paul! I thought you were gone and I didn’t if somebody took you!

_I’m sorry Sissy, I was looking at the shelf and I didn’t mean to loose you. But Fred was going to help me. 

_Thanks you mister Fred!

_Anything for a pretty lady like you and her brother. Name’s Fred and I’m one of the owner of the shop.

_Oh well thanks you Fred but we have to go, Paul here has to pack for Hod-Hor...The school! I’m sorry I don’t know much about this…

_Well I could help you if want, just owl me. I mean if you have an owl, or I could owl you first and you can tell me when we could meet.

_That would be great, I’ll wait for your owl then.”

When George saw Fred writing to someone everyday, he was suspicious and he found the stash of letters, some from a month ago, he red all of them and saw a side of his brother he didn’t knew. The other writer, named Y/N or Love, seemed to not be a witch but Fred was patient with her, George knew he would tease his brother but he was happy that Fred found someone. 

Fred and Y/N met again a month later, they were both exited and couldn’t wait to see each other. Fred showed her more of the wizard world and in exchange, Y/N showed the muggle world (he was perplex about the pictures not moving!) and she showed him her little library. Their little getaways happened many times, until Fred asked her to be his girlfriend on the seventh date. He, of course, asked with fireworks on a cute little picnic. 

Y/N didn’t meet his family until the three months mark, she saw George once or twice when she met Fred at the shop, but Fred never introduced him officially. So when he asked if she wanted to meet his family, she said yes. The burrow was magical for her, seeing everything move in the air was a bit weird at first, Molly did everything she could to make her feel at home and Arthur talked her ear off about the muggle things he had. Fred’s siblings were a bit septic at first but warm up after getting to know her. George had to interrogate her, she was so nervous but when he laughed she was relieved. Everything went fine to the great pleasure of Fred, he could finally feel a weight leave his shoulders, his girlfriend was accepted by his family and he couldn’t be happier.

Fred and Y/n’s relationship was great, they both showed each others love and a new side of the world, they had their ups and downs but at the end they solved things. Sometimes she helped in the shop or Fred would be with her in her library. They were different but they completed each others beautifully. 

[demigodsanswer]

So you really are incapable of making a bad AU I'm absolutely loving the tattoo AU. I love mom annabeth and sophia, I love the lukabeth angst, I love the potential percy & luke angst, I love the fact that you have percabeth basically flip their traditional roles while staying true to their character (annabeth is still a genius and percy is still goofy but they can be so much more too!!). I hope you expand on this story more I wanna see percabeth develop and percy form a relationship with sophia and everything that does to annabeth bc we all know girl can overthink. Anyway I'm rambling but I love your writing you're probably my favorite fic writer and I just adore everything you come up with.

Thank you so much! I've noodled around with a few more ideas. Right now, the fic is really heavy on the Lukabeth B+ Coparenting, with just a side of Percy going "hell yeah, hot milfs in my area want me!"

(for any concerned, given what I did to him in tuap, this Luke is genuinly a good dad, and also mostly pathetic and sopping wet.

he spent his teen years in love with a girl who turned out to be a lesbian who got a tubal ligation at 27, and at 29 she introduced him to a pretty 24 year old who he might like. he ended up not liking her that much on a romantic level, but now he's tethered to her forever. Oh and the love of his life's snot nosed baby cousin is back in town, six feet tall, chiseled, and handsome, and now he's sleeping with his baby mama. And all Luke wants to do is take his daughter to disneyworld while princesses and minnie mouse are still real for her. And for some reason, baby mama isn't immediately on board with the idea. and he's also starting to think he might be gay. he's had a rough six years)

Here's a little bit more -- set a week after the last bit:

~~

Percy still had his hand around her waist as they walked into the shop, ignoring the people queued up in line. 

“I’m serious about that Sting tattoo,” Percy said. 

“Give me a week to design a better one than what I scribbled on a place-mat,” she said. 

“Deal, but next week,” Percy said. 

“I book up months in advance, you’ll have to try your luck with a walk-in,” she said, turning towards him. His hands rested on her hips, and he looked at her with that troublemaker smile. Thank goodness he was on a tenure track; soon, whatever trouble he got into wouldn’t matter. “Of course,” she pulled him in a little closer by the belt loops, “I might be able to find the time, if you ate me out again.” 

Percy smiled and brushed some hair behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll do that again, tattoo or not.” 

“Stop being gross in my establishment,” Thalia yelled at them. “Things went well then?” She asked, looking between them. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth confirmed, stepping away from Percy. 

“So, should we expect a mini Percy in nine months?” Thalia asked. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat on the stool behind the reception desk. “I’m more careful at thirty than I was at twenty-four.” 

“Not thirty yet,” Thalia reminded her. 

“Birthday coming up?” Percy asked. 

“In July,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“July fifteenth, mark your calendar, we’re taking her out,” Thalia told him. She watched Percy take out his phone and make a note of it. Annabeth smiled. 

She was about to warn him that she didn’t really party much anymore, but her phone buzzed. She slipped it out of her back pocket and stared at the screen. 

Luke 

Calling her? 

On a Sunday morning? 

She held the phone up to Thalia. “This can’t be good,” Annabeth announced. 

“You better take it,” Thalia said. 

Annabeth answered. 

“Hey?” 

“Hey, don’t freak out.” He sounded completely freaked out, which only freaked her out more. 

“Why?” She asked, turning to face Thalia and Percy so they could read her expression. 

“Sophie got hurt at the park. She fell. We’re in the ER,” he told her. 

“What?” Her heart raced, and she ran a hand through her bangs. 

“They did the X-rays, she broke her arm.” He sounded guilty, and sad, and scared. Although the sad and scared might have just been her projection. She turned away from Percy and Thalia then, her eyes welling with tears. 

“Is she okay?” Annabeth asked. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, then a head. Thalia. Thalia’s arms wrapped around her, and held her upright. In her periphery, she watched Thalia flip off the walk-ins who were staring at them through the window. 

“She’s okay. They gave her pain meds and set the arm. They just need to put it in a cast and discharge her. We should be out of here in an hour,” he told her. 

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Annabeth almost yelled at him. 

“I’ve been trying. There’s no cell reception in here. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

All she ever wanted to do was get mad at him, but he always had a reason to keep her from exploding at him. 

“Well, tell her I’ll be there in -- what hospital are you at?” 

“Beth-Israel, fifteen minutes from Electric if you’re there already,” he said. 

“Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said. 

“You don’t need to -- I mean, I’ll bring her right to you --” 

“No, I’m coming, and tell her I’ll be there,” Annabeth said. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “we’ll see you soon.” 

Annabeth hung up with a huff, before wiping at her eyes, grateful now that she decided against make up that morning. 

Annabeth’s hands shook as she opened the Uber app, and Thalia just took the phone from her. 

“I got it,” she promised, “he said Beth-Israel?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, her voice thin and squeaky. 

“Kids get hurt, mama,” Thalia reminded her, as she confirmed the ride, “but if you go in there all weepy, it’ll scare her.” 

Annabeth nodded and grabbed tissues from the box on the counter. Percy handed her a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Annabeth said to him. 

“Is she okay?” Percy asked. He hadn’t heard most of Luke’s part of the conversation like Thalia had. 

“She broke her arm,” Annabeth said. 

“I did that when I was seven,” Percy said, “it hurt, but once the bone was set, it was okay. And I still have arms,” he said with a dopey smile, holding up his two forearms to prove it. 

“Which arm?” Annabeth asked, not sure why. 

Percy pointed to his SPQR. “It broke right about there,” he said. 

 Her phone buzzed again. Her Uber was pulling up. 

“I’ll call you?” She said to Percy. Percy gave her a thumbs up. “Do you need me to come back?” She asked Thalia. 

“Just walk ins today, mama. Just take her home.” Thalia took out her wallet and handed Annabeth a twenty. “Buy her an ice cream on me.” 

Annabeth smiled. “Her dad is probably going to buy her all of Disney World after this, I’m sure.” 

“Good, he should,” Thalia said, turning Annabeth towards the door. “It’s just ink, it’ll be here tomorrow.” 

And with that, Annabeth was out the door. 

~

The nurses all seemed to figure out who Annabeth was right away. She didn’t know if Luke told them to look for a blonde woman covered in tattoos, or if she really did just look that much like her daughter. 

They had given her a private room in the ER. It wasn’t too busy it seemed, and the nurses directed her there easily. 

Sophia was sitting up in a big hospital bed, still in a pink tee shirt and gray sweats, while Luke read something to her. Her tiny arm was in a beige cast. 

“Mommy!” Sophia called out, her eyes immediately filling with tears, her good arm reaching out to her, as both she and Luke said “be careful with your arm!” at the same time. 

“Hi nugget,” Annabeth said, running over to her, and scooping her up in a big hug, mindful of her injury. 

Sophia sobbed into her shoulder, her little lungs struggling to push out words as she became hysterical. “I was -- on the -- swings -- even though -- you told me -- not to -- and I jumped off -- even though Daddy -- told me not to -- and I fell -- and I got hurt -- and I learned my lesson!” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Annabeth promised her, rocking her gently back and forth in her lap as she cried. “You’re not in trouble, I promise. You’re okay.” 

Annabeth glared at Luke over Sophia’s shoulder though. You are in trouble, she tried to communicate. Luke looked away, guilty. 

“Aw see, I told you your mommy would be here soon,” the nurse said, walking into the room. He was a male nurse with dark skin and locks pulled back in a pink bandana. “She was very brave, mama. But all she wanted was you. All the nurses have been on the lookout.” 

Annabeth looked at Luke again, angrier now then she had been. This time he didn’t even try to look at her. 

“I bet you were so brave,” Annabeth said to her girl, pushing down her anger. “I bet Daddy was scared.” 

Sophia nodded, her tears slowing and her breathing calming down. Annabeth wiped her tears away with her thumb. 

“Did this nice man get you all fixed up?” Annabeth asked. Sophia nodded. “Did you say your thank yous?” Sophia nodded again. 

“Alright Sophia,” the man said, “I got the colors, which one do you want?” Annabeth spotted his name tag as he moved closer. Austin. She hoped her brain held onto it through everything. 

There was blue, purple, orange, yellow, and pink. 

“Your Belle dress is yellow,” Annabeth said. 

“Oh, I’ve heard about the Belle dress,” Austin said. “Do you want yellow?” 

Sophia shook her head and pointed to the pink. 

“Pink?” Austin confirmed. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Can we use our words, nugget?” Annabeth asked. 

“Pink please,” Sophia said. 

“You got it girlie. Mama, we are gonna need you to put her down for this part.” 

Annabeth nodded and got Sophia back into the bed. 

A few minutes later, the hard cast was in place, and Sophia was cleared for discharge. They’d check on the arm in three weeks, and go from there. 

“I want to go home,” Sophia mumbled into Annabeth’s shoulder while Luke filled out the discharge papers. Sophia was under his health insurance. 

“I bet. We’ll go right home, I promise,” Annabeth said. She looked at Luke standing at the desk, filling out forms. It was still his day with her. She rolled over her options in her mind. If she wanted Sophia to herself, she’d bet Luke would allow it. But -- “Do you want Daddy to come home with us?” Annabeth asked. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Okay sweetie,” Annabeth said. 

A minute later, Luke was walking up to them. “We’re all set,” he said. 

“We want to go home,” Annabeth said, adjusting Sophia on her hip, holding onto her tight despite her weight. 

“Right,” Luke said, “sure, I figured --” 

“Will you come back with us?” Annabeth offered. 

Luke’s face lit up. “Really? You’re sure?” 

“Sophia wants you to,” Annabeth said. As if to prove, Sophia reached for her dad, who took her from Annabeth, holding her with more ease than Annabeth had been. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “let's go home then.” 

~

Sophia fell asleep in the Uber, and Luke carried her inside. 

“I’ll order lunch,” Luke said, walking out of her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

“Great, thanks,” Annabeth said, her tone short. For want of something to do, she started on the dishes she left in the sink. 

Luke’s arms snaked around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked. 

“Begging your forgiveness,” he said. 

“Okay. Beg,” she told him. 

He squeezed her a bit, and then said, rather pathetically, “Please don’t take her away from me.” 

Annabeth laughed, confused. “What?” 

“I’m sorry she got hurt, but please, I … I don’t want to stop seeing her.” 

Annabeth put the dishes down and pulled herself out of his hold. She turned to look at him. “Kids get hurt,” she reminded him. “Would you sue me for custody if she broke her arm on my watch? Or would you sue her school if she got hurt there?

“No,” Luke said, “but you are mad at me.” 

“Oh, I’m so mad at you I could scream,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“See, that’s the difference. I also wouldn’t be mad at you if she got hurt on your watch --” 

“I’m not mad she’s hurt!” Annabeth yelled, before bringing her voice back down to a whisper. “I’m mad that I told you no swings, and that you decided to undermine me, even though you said you wouldn’t. I’m fucking pissed that you told me not to go to the hospital when she’d been asking for me. All the nurses were looking for me!” Annabeth reminded him. 

“By the time I got ahold of you,” he said it as if she simply hadn’t been answering her phone, “we had barely an hour left, you didn’t need to at that point --” 

“You should have called me sooner!” 

“I was trying! She was in so much pain. I didn’t want to leave her alone. What would you have done? Stuck in a hospital, no cell service, when would you have called me?” 

“In the taxi on the way to the fucking hospital,” she said, poking his chest with a stiff finger. “What are you getting for lunch?” She asked. 

“Jersey Mikes?” He suggested. 

“Great, you know what she likes?” 

“American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and bread,” Luke rattled off. 

“No oil or vinegar,” she reminded him. 

“I know.” 

~

Annabeth woke Sophia up after an hour and got her to eat. Sophia, blessedly, gave her parents a break from Beauty and the Beast and selected Encanto. Annabeth relaxed finally, nibbling on an okay Italian sub as the iconic tunes of Lin Manuel Miranda entertained her kid. 

“Your grandpa is a big fan of the guy who did the music for this movie,” Luke told Sophia. 

“Poppop likes Encando?” She asked. 

“Sure does,” Luke confirmed. 

At six, Thalia dropped by. “I had to come check on our tiny badass,” Thalia said, running over to hug Sophia as she giggled at the bad word. (Annabeth told her Sophia wasn’t allowed to say swear words until she was eighteen, and Sophia seemed to interpret this as legally she wasn’t allowed. Annabeth hadn’t corrected her).

“Nice cast,” Thalia said, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a huge pack of Sharpies. “I brought you these so me and your mom can give you some tattoos on your cast.” 

Sophia grabbed the markers with a big thank you hug for her aunt, and Thalia squeezed her back. Crotch goblin, ha. 

Sophia started to rattle off the things she wanted Annabeth to draw, and Annabeth just smiled. “Okay, why don’t you sleep on it, and then pick out what you want where?” Annabeth suggested. Sophia nodded, obviously taking the decision about her tattoos very seriously. 

“Now, I told your mom to take you out for ice cream,” Thalia said. Sophia looked at Annabeth, obviously already feeling betrayed. “Has she?” 

“No!” Sophia announced. 

“Well! We should fix that,” Thalia said. 

“We were getting there,” Annabeth promised, “but we can go now. Go get your shoes on.” 

Thalia pointed to Luke as Sophia ran to get her shoes. “Are we taking the pouty one?” 

“Not sure I deserve ice cream,” Luke said. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a martyr, come on!” She said, pulling him to his feet. 

Sophia picked the brightest blue ice cream Annabeth had ever seen. It was just vanilla, allegedly, with Oreos, but dyed bright blue to look like its namesake: the Cookie Monster. Annabeth stuffed napkins into her cast to keep it clean. 

After a careful bath (with Sophia’s arm wrapped in a trash bag), Annabeth and Luke took turns reading more of The Hobbit to her until her eyes finally started to close. Thalia had been gone since Annabeth announced it was bath time, and now that Sophia was asleep, it was just her and her baby daddy. 

“Should I stay over?” Luke asked. 

“Oh,” Annabeth said. He did stay sometimes. They shared the bed when he did. It wasn't a big deal. It usually happened if Sophia was sick, or on Christmas eve. “Sure, uh,” shit, “I just need to change my sheets,” she said. 

There was a long, terrible pause as Luke figured it out. “You and Percy slept together already?” He asked, obviously judging her. 

“Yeah, so?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

“Seems a bit fast,” he said. 

“Well, I haven’t had sex with someone since you,” Annabeth said, “so forgive me for having some fun.” 

“I’m not mad at you --” 

“But you’re judging me --” 

“It’s just of all the guys --” 

“What’s wrong with Percy?” 

“He’s like a little brother to me!” 

“He told me you two weren’t close!” 

“Not anymore! It’s --” Luke lowered his voice. “It’s fine,” he promised, “I’ll just go home. Do with the sheets what you will.” 

Annabeth frowned. She wasn’t sure how he managed to do it, but she always felt compelled to apologize to him at the end of every spat. She held herself back this time. 

“Alright,” Annabeth said. “I’ll keep you posted about the doctor’s.” 

Luke nodded. “What about …” he glanced at Sophia’s door, “that thing we were talking about.” 

Disney World. 

Annabeth smiled and nodded. “You’re right, we should do it. It’ll mean the world to her. It’s so generous, Luke, I … I’m sorry I wasn’t immediately grateful like I should have been.” 

He shrugged as if to say it’s fine. “You’ll come with us?” Luke asked. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Annabeth said. “I can cover myself --” 

Luke kissed her head. “I don’t want you to. Just go and enjoy yourself.” 

“Okay, I will,” Annabeth said. 

“My friend’s wife is a Disney travel agent. She thinks she can get us into the Beauty and the Beast restaurant.” 

“Oh Sophia will love that,” Annabeth agreed. “Do they serve chicken nuggets?” 

“I’d bet my life they do,” Luke said. 

He leaned in again and kissed her cheek as a goodbye, but when he pulled back, his face lingered. She didn’t stop him from kissing her lips. They tried this every few months or so. 

“Anything?” Annabeth asked when it was over. 

“No,” he confirmed. “You?” 

“Nothing.” 

Luke seemed a bit sad but just shrugged. “Worth a try,” he decided. “I’ll be in touch about vacation,” he promised, before leaving her and Sophia alone. 

[xsweetcatastrophe]

you broke me first

part 33

authors note: i’m back, what’d i miss

Zoe sat at her desk at work, staring at the blank screen. She had an article to write, but her mind was elseware - specifically, the text messages from Cillian she received this morning.

She thought about it as she got dressed, as she combed her hair, as she tried to find shoes that went with her outfit. She thought about it so much, she burnt her toast in the toaster and almost left the house with Scout still out in the backyard.

She ended up making another piece of toast; she was nauseous again, probably because of how her morning went. She inhaled it as she drove to the office, wiping the crumbs off her shirt as she parked and speed-walked into the building, hoping she got to her desk before anyone noticed she was 20 minutes late.

Once she made it to her office, she closed the door and sunk into her chair with a sigh of relief. She made it; she was behind on all her assignments and now she can hide out until 5, keep the office door closed, put her head down and just work. Shen she can leave and dwell on this some more.

That was the plan, at least.

And, you should know by now, nothing in Zoe’s life ever goes to plan.

Which brings us here, 12:30pm, with Zoe staring at her blank word document and her mind on Cillian.

Her phone buzzed. Her heart dropped, but saw Dana’s name and released the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

dana: hey! leaving pilates now, you still want to meet for lunch? Wanna do the cafe on the corner by your office?

Zoe quickly replied with a yes, and grabbed her bag. She put on her sunglasses and slowly opened her office door, peeking out to see if anyone was there.

Empty hallway. The front door is right there. A quick getaway. I can do this, Zoe thought.

“Excuse me, Zoe, do you have a minute?”

wrong.

Zoe turned around and saw Donna there with a legal pad and pen in her hand. She looked like she was about to go into Zoe’s office.

“Hey! I actually don’t, I gotta run to a lunch meeting..” Zoe lied.

“Oh great! With who?” Donna countered.

“Uh.. Emma Stone’s manager. Still hasn’t gotten back to me with a date yet. Gonna get one today.”

Donna’s smile faltered. She blinked and broke eye contact, giving off the feeling that she knew she was being lied to.

“…okay. I still need a lot of stuff from you, the Jennifer Garner storyboard you wanted to do… I can’t pitch anything to her people without a gameplan- ”

“I got it Donna, don’t worry. I’ll get it to you today,” Zoe asserted. Shit, i haven’t even started that.

“Let me know if you need Mia to take some stuff off your plate, the junior writers are here to help” Donna said, walking away coldly.

whatever. i’ll deal with that later.

—————-

Zoe sipped her iced tea and poked her overpriced salad with her fork. She had three, maybe four bites tops. She had no appetite.

She just told Dana everything, and she currently had her phone looking at the texts that Cillian sent.

“that is… so bizzare,” Dana replied, handing the phone back to Zoe. “It’s like night and day. This isn’t the man that picked us up from the bar that night. He sounds like a dick.”

“I was scared of this happening..He assured me that it wouldn’t. And here we are,” Zoe said, sighing.

“Have you texted him back? or called him?”

“no, he told me not to.” Upon hearing that, Dana’s hand fell to the table.

“Zoe, for God’s sakes, stop letting a man tell you what to do.”

“Dana, don’t start..” Zoe groaned.

“No Zo, i’m serious. Don’t let this scrub drag you from across the world. It’s not fair and i’m sick of it. You are an amazing girl and my best friend. He should be so disgustingly in love with you that your phone doesn’t stop going off from texts and phone calls. You helped him out so much in such a short time, helped him organize his new house while he’s off filming, and he talks to you like that? Beat him at his own game. If he wants to be cold and tell you not to text him? fine. but YOU go out and live your life. don’t sit at work dwelling over this. Don’t text, don’t call, don’t think about him -”

“Dana i’m staying at his house,” Zoe interrupted.

“GOOD. Stay there until he kicks you out. Look at you, I bet you got no work done today, right? because he has this much control over your emotions, all the way from across the ocean. Put yourself first babe,” Dana begged.

“It’s not that easy, Dana, I…I really opened up to him…”

“Just because you opened up to him, does not mean that you are obligated to put up with being treated like this. I’m serious, i’d make him sweat this. Fine, don’t contact him until he contacts you. But let’s go out later. Let’s have FUN. We’re young and pretty and live in one of the best cities in the world…. and you’re staying in a mansion for free. Hello???” Dana added, trying to lighten the situation.

Zoe sighed. She knew Dana was right, she didn’t deserve to be talked to like that. But Dana also knew how insecure she was, and how this will effect her for months. She wasn’t strong like Dana was and she knew that.

“Zoe,” Dana said, interrupting Zoe’s thoughts. “look at me.”

Zoe took her eyes off her sad salad and looked at Dana, bracing for whatever she was going to throw at her next.

“Do you remember when you told me you were visiting your sister, and when you both picked up Sophie from daycare, the teacher said she was being really bad and was ‘being like a brat’?”

Zoe stared at her. “yes.

“And what did you do?”

Zoe knew where this was going. “I told the teacher to never speak about my neice like that again.”

“….and? i think you’re leaving a part out” Dana hinted.

Zoe sighed. “And i said if she ever called her a brat again, she can have a meeting with me, her aunt who is 10 times more bratier than her and knows how to punch.” Zoe concluded.

“There you go,” Dana said. “How would you feel if one day, Sophie’s boyfriend talks to her like this. How would you feel? what would you tell her? Why can’t you take that advice for yourself?” Dana smiled, reaching across the table and squeezing Zoe’s hand. “You know, you’re someone’s daughter too. Someone’s aunt, someone’s sister… someone’s friend,” Dana said softly. “I know if i came to you with this, you’d tell me exactly what to do. I just want you to want more and better for yourself. I don’t want you putting up with this kind of stuff. Or this kind of treatment from him… or ANYONE, in any type of relationship in your life, wether it be boyfriends, friends, work relationships… put yourself first. Please. I love you.”

Zoe blinked back tears. She was right. Dana was right. She won’t admit it out loud, but she was right.

“Ok,” Zoe whispered. “you’re right. i don’t have control. over anything. including my emotions. It ends here,” Zoe said with a sigh.

“I’m here for you,” Dana said. “no matter what. You. First. No exceptions.”

“What do i do when he calls?”

“Just be short and to the point. that this isn’t going to fly if this is how it’s going to be. and if he can’t handle it - BYEEEEE” Dana said, yelling the last part, causing some people to turn and look.

Zoe couldn’t hold back from laughing. She loved Dana for this exact reason. She was the perfect cheerleader.

“Okay, okay!!” Zoe said, picking up her glass, holding it out. “here’s to me, and me only”

“and that big ass house you’re staying in until he royally kicks your ass out” Dana replied, clinking her glass against Zoe’s.

——————-

Zoe had just gotten back from a run when he called.

Shit, shit, okay, okay, Zoe thought, placing Scout’s leash on the counter. she took a deep breath and hit the green “accept”

“hello?”

“hey! I haven’t heard from you all day”

“sorry. I was busy.” Zoe replied coldly.

“oh.. anything good?” Cill responded.

“Work. Stayed late to catch up on stuff. Went for a run with your dog.”

“my dog?” Cillian replied. “okay, okay. how was work?”

“fine.”

Cillian knew something was wrong. “what’s wrong, bunny?”

“I’m just tired, i want to go to bed. I had a long day”

“okay, well go take a bath and relax. I have another late night ahead of me.”

“Yea? another cast dinner?” Zoe spit out before she realized what she was saying.

“Oh yea, you saw those pics i assume,” Cillian chuckled nervously. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, Cill. enjoy your dinner. I’m taking care of everything for you back here. Tell Lizzie I said hi,” Zoe said before hanging up the phone.

Zoe dropped the phone on the counter as if it was on fire. Her heart was pounding so fast, she couldn’t believe she just said that.

Her phone buzzed a minute later:

Cill: baby, stop. don’t let those thoughts get in your head. i love you.

Something about him texting her immediately after felt … empowering?

Zoe didn’t respond. If he wanted to go to another dinner with Lizzie Longlegs, that’s his prerogative. She had a shower to take and her own dinner to date to go on.

He didn’t need to know her “date” was Dana.

———————

Cillian stared at his phone, at the last message she sent to Zoe. She had her read receipts on, and it clearly stated it was read shortly after he sent it … no response.

Cillian was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach, like Zoe was mad at him but not wanting to talk it out with him.

His anxiety peaked because this is exactly what happened with his ex wife.

He picked up the phone to call her again when Hannah came into the hotel room, unannounced.

“Hey Cill! got a minute?”

Cillian sighed and looked at the watch. “it’s nearly 1am Hannah, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Just wanted to let you know filming got pushed back for tomorrow - well technically today. They need additional clearance for the horses, and they shouldn’t have it until 3 or 4pm. so you have a free day until then, but the cast wants to get together at about noon if that’s good?” Hannah replied sweetly.

“uh, yea sure. that’s fine. I wanna get some sleep though..” Cillian said, hoping she’d get the hint.

She did. “Say no more i’m out. sleep good! i’ll check in tomorrow at about 10 to make sure wardrobe and stuff is here for you. goodnight!” Hannah said, leaving.

She walked across the hall to her room and sat at the small table and pulled out her phone, dialing the number she had come to memorize over the last week.

“Hey, Tara? It’s Hannah over at Elite… those pictures you got of the cast the other night was PERFECT… do you think you can do it again?…. no no, no cast this time… this time, it’ll be just Cillian Murphy and Lizzie Hughes solo… yup. A day date. can it make the next day press?….. you’re the best. Thanks Tara,” Hannah said, hanging up the phone.

tags: @lau219 @cillianmurphyvevo @bleakmidwinter00 @amelyyyyyyy @teawonderfultea-blog1 @lavender-haze-01 @cillianinlove @supershadowymiraclestudent @shopgirl6us

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I want the labels to not matter at all I truly just want to be doing things bc they speak to me and make me feel something

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part One

For Xiantober Day One: Genius… albeit stretching the prompt so it refers to MXTX and MDZS itself, but at the end of the day it’s still about WWX – so no harm done!

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

The narrative is a very active player in MDZS’ story. How it presents information, what it chooses to show and omit, often reflects important facets of its themes and characters – Nie Huaisang, for instance, is so good at hiding behind his mask that not even the narrative can hold him accountable; the present day’s storyline as a murder mystery and the slow reveal of information about the past both prompt the reader to think critically about the truth of events, when the importance of thinking critically is an important theme; and the dangers not thinking critically (and instead basing conclusions on rumours without much evidence) are shown by tricking unquestioning readers into the very same trap the cultivation world falls into, as the information given by the title, summary and in-universe rumours – which contradicts how we see actually Wei Wuxian act – turns out to be false.

But nowhere do I love this trait more than in its treatment of Wei Wuxian – and, more specifically, in its way of emphasising his agency. We’re not just told how much his active choices define his character, and we’re not just shown this in-universe through his personality, worldview and the events he causes. I’d argue that this aspect goes a step further, and shapes the structure of the out-of-universe narrative as well.

There are two main ways this happens: one, in how the aspects of Wei Wuxian’s life that are shown and hidden directly tell us what’s important about his character (which is good writing but isn’t necessarily tied to this shaping of the narrative), which is what we’ll explore today; and two, how what’s shown and hidden reflects what Wei Wuxian himself prefers to dwell on, resulting in the narrative respecting his own thoughts and feelings on matters (which very much is tied to it). We’ll explore this at a later date.

But as for now – let’s explore my favourite aspect of MDZS.

(Here, narrative agency will be considered the ability of a character to meaningfully influence their events and the story they’re in.)

Tragedy, Circumstance, Choice

If we simply look at Wei Wuxian’s backstory in a vacuum, it seems almost typically tragic. His  parents died in circumstances beyond his control, he was left alone as a child with nobody to care for him, he was forced to grow up fending for himself on the streets, he was faced with abuse when he finally was taken in… as with all typical woobies, everything simply happened to him, and none of it was good. It’s just another example of the lack of agency being used for sympathy points, right?

…Except there’s one problem with that idea. We don’t actually see any of this.

It would’ve been easy to start the flashbacks during these times. We’re telling the story of Wei Wuxian in (largely) chronological order, and these are likely important experiences for him! But instead of starting in his street days, or evenat the moment Jiang Fengmian took him in*, we start at the lectures in the Cloud Recesses. That’s not even something mentioned in, and therefore something that’s able to disprove, the rumours at the start of the novel. So why is this the case? 

Well, there are multiple reasons – the main one being that MDZS is also Lan Wangji’s (and Wangxian’s) story, and having the flashbacks open with their first meeting is very satisfying. But I want to focus on something else.

This period doesn’t have to be shown, because what happens to Wei Wuxian, especially out of his control, isn’t what’s important about his character.

We’re not even at Lotus Pier here, where Wei Wuxian certainly has more agency than he would’ve had as a young child, but where the harm caused by Madame Yu is still completely out of his control. Here, he has agency! Though there are consequences, he is free to act, and what happens to him is a result of those actions and not of circumstance. Yes, he gets punished more than others who also take those same actions (due to classism); yes, it’s not his choice to be picked on by Lan Qiren in class (yet look how he responds, twisting the situation to his advantage and ending up tricking Lan Qiren into letting him leave, which is what he wanted to do. He is not at all helpless here!); yes, these choices have been influenced by his learned mindset from Madame Yu that punishment is arbitrary and will happen anyway, so you may as well do what you want regardless. But there is cause-and-effect here. It’s not circumstantial tragedy.

Therefore, instead of our first impression of past!Wei Wuxian being that of an unfortunate woobie, it’s of someone who has the freedom, ability and will to choose and act (and that’s after these initial tragic events have taken place). This is compounded by the fact that before we see any of his backstory, we get a similar impression of him in the present day.

If the purpose of his tragic past was to earn him sympathy points, to make us pity him due to how much he was influenced by events out of his control, this would’ve been a terrible way of going about it… and it’s this that betrays the true reason for its existence. Because now, the flashbacks instead show us how little these tragedies define who he is! From the very start, Wei Wuxian isn’t someone defined by circumstances out of his control, but rather by who he is as a person and by what choices he makes in the present day (which is both a mindset in-universe, and a nice little out-of-universe detail that lines up! Because out-of-universe, this means he’s not defined by sympathy points from a backstory, but rather by his great character writing… aka, by who he is as a person and what choices he makes). And this refusal to be defined by tragedy is a conscious choice on his part, too – but we’ll explore that more later. 

The important thing is that this idea of Wei Wuxian isn’t because of what exists in his past, it’s because of what parts of his past are shown to us (as well as what he chooses to do, with agency, in the present). 

Now, if this relationship between what’s displayed and what’s omitted was just a one-time thing, I might’ve considered it a cool detail or a nice way to establish a character, but not something the narrative is actively focusing on. But it’s a pattern that continues throughout the flashbacks. What, arguably, are the two other most important times in Wei Wuxian’s life where he doesn’t have enough agency to meaningfully influence his circumstances? His three months in the Burial Mounds (before escaping – he managed to assume some control of the circumstances but not enough to substantially reduce his suffering in his time there), and his loss and death during the First Siege. And we’re not shown either of them! We skip to when Wei Wuxian has emerged from the Burial Mounds and is torturing the Wens, or we skip to the present day – both times he has agency once more, because, again, what he’s like without it doesn’t matter enough to be shown. 

Furthermore, I’d argue this does actually contrast the other tragic events we see in Wei Wuxian’s later life. Things do go horribly wrong, but it’s either due to choices he knows the consequences of (see: rescuing the Wen Remnants in the first place), or instances where he still has some ability to act in the situation and influence it within the limitations. If he’d had no ability to influence circumstances at Qiongqi path, he would have died in the ambush; if he’d been unable to do that at Nightless City, he would’ve died then, too (of course Lan Wangji helped him escape as well). The attention drawn to him losing control of his actions in both instances is very interesting, but intentional or not, it’s still his actions influencing the plot. And that influence happens to be detrimental. The very ability to act and influence, at a base level,  is not taken away (though, of course, that doesn’t make these events any less tragic).

So, so far, the narrative seems to be telling us that the ability to act and choose is key to Wei Wuxian’s character. And it’s doing it through omitting his moments without agency in favour of instead showing us his moments with it. 

Let’s see if this is echoed in the text itself before we go further – because even with this pattern, nothing would end up mattering if Wei Wuxian’s agency wasn’t actually that important to the story itself. But thankfully it is, and that first impression we get of Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses turns out to very much be accurate! Though there are defining circumstances out of his control that occur, such as the massacre of Lotus Pier, the majority of the important events of his life are due to his own choices. He didn’t happen to be forced to cease traditional cultivation and solely use guidao, didn’t happen to lose his Golden Core in a fight with Wen Zhuliu or due to some force in the Burial Mounds, it was his own choice to give it and his spiritual powers away. He didn’t tragically happen to get targeted by the cultivation world, it was a result of him acting on his morals and protecting the Wen remnants (a choice which he was fully aware of the implications of). He isn’t a protagonist to whom things simply occur, and that activeness and agency is my favourite thing about him. 

That’s not to say that the times Wei Wuxian doesn’t have agency, or feels like he doesn’t have any, don’t exist at all, either – but they are rare enough to have attention directly drawn to them in his internal narration:

Or else what could he do? He could do nothing. He was powerless. Lotus Pier had been destroyed, both Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu were gone, and Jiang Cheng had disappeared as well. He was the only one left, alone, with not even a sword in his hands. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t do anything! For the first time, he discovered how little his power was. In front of something as large as the QishanWen Sect, it was the same as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. - Chapter 59, EXR translation

(And even in this circumstance, note that he still does force himself to act – to carry on searching for Jiang Cheng, to place his faith in Wen Ning – and does accomplish his goal (albeit with the help of others)! So even in dire situations, he isn’t simply passive. This is actually also the case with his time in the Burial Mounds, almost certainly the First Siege, and even his days on the streets as well (Chapter 20: he did actively fight with dogs to get food despite their danger and his growing fear of them, rather than just waiting and hoping to somehow receive some more). He can’t influence or immediately influence his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.)

Overall, although they do influence him, Wei Wuxian is very much who he is in spite of his circumstances, not because of them. We’re shown the importance of his agency both in-universe by the major impacts his choices have on himself and the plot, as well as by narrative presentation – important periods where he lacks the ability to meaningfully influence anything are often mentioned but not directly shown, which suggests that such moments and circumstances aren’t as important to understanding Wei Wuxian’s character as moments where he does have this agency are. And I’d argue this works very well. Depending on the version of the story you consume, you may end up having different interpretations as to how much circumstances were at play nearer the end of his life – but nobody comes out of MDZS thinking about Wei Wuxian, the poor bearer of yet another generically tragic backstory.

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

—

*We are shown this moment in more detail in Chapter 23… but even then, it’s through the framing of Wei Wuxian remembering Jiang Yanli’s narration, not through a flashback proper or even him remembering the experience itself!