#I may not like all the ships but I was invested

[danykindaforgotaboutdre]

The problem with jayvik

In a vacuum, there is no problem with jayvik. I like jayvik, I think their dynamic is interesting, I think they have chemistry (I think all of the characters have good chemistry with each other, actually), I think their relationship can be interpreted all sorts of ways. I think they're neat.

I also like Meljay, in fact I prefer Meljay, they have more layers that I'm personally invested in peeling back. I love how you don't know Mel's intentions at first, so the first impulse when they get together is to regard it with suspicion. But then, he lets himself be vulnerable with her and they're just open hearted and good to each other from then on. There's no trick, they just earnestly care and see the best in one another. Contrary to popular belief, Mel may have had an ulterior motive for nearly everything else, but she never had one for loving Jayce, that part was always true and good even if you can't see it at first.

I also like Meljayvik, I think Jayce and Viktor have a complicated relationship and she's never shown the slightest sign of being in any way resentful or spiteful over it. Nor is she given any reason to be whatsoever. She supports Jayce fully in his perfectly understandable preoccupation with Viktor's wellness.

But the problem with jayvik, or at least a particularly loud section of their fandom is, they badly want her to be resentful and spiteful. They want her to feel hurt and betrayed, they frame whatever jayvik have going on as cheating on this woman he never actually cared about, and that's supposed to be good, that's supposed to be a W for their ship. What is actually gained from this? Why is discussing Mel even necessary to enjoy this pairing (yes, erasing her is also a problem in the fandom but believe it or not, there's a way to talk about jayvik that doesn't involve doing either, and it's really not that hard).

Also, why does Jayce choosing Viktor have to be because he's gay? (fellas is it gay to chow down on a beautiful woman's coochie?) Why can't he just choose him regardless of whether he likes women or not? Why the insecurity? Is it because if you let yourself believe he actually likes women, you have to also admit that he chose Mel for no other reason than being attracted to her? I get it, they're jokes, haha, it's not that deep, but unfortunately when the same stupid patterns emerge around every woman and especially every Black woman in fictional media who "gets in the way" of fanon, it is that deep, it's annoying af actually.

[olderthannetfic]

this may be controversial but I don't like romance in my media not because I hate it as a concept but just it always stresses me out how they would execute it. There's only so many good actually good romance stories and at one point I got tired of watching and reading yet another bad one.

I like it when if the romance is there it's not the focus of the story. Or those "implied" romances. The best friends, the enemies but also maybeeeee.... (they're fucking or kissing on the side, you know?)

I can make up the romance in my head and if not me I'm sure other gays in the fandom will not let me down and will have make all the m/m art and ships I need. I get my sad stories with implied romances and dommed by the narrative protagonists and don't care about romance. Instead I get invested in the story the fandom feeds my delulus. I think its a win win.

--

You just said you were consuming romance media, dude. It's just by fans who share your narrative tastes.

[luthor-s]

Kitty & her LI’s → Taylor Swift folklore lyrics

[thejesterstears]

Making my own post on this but it’s interesting to me that Goose has already preemptively stated that FunnyBunny AND BunnyDoll shippers may not be happy with the direction the show goes which leads me to conclude that Jax is the problem, I wonder how their relationships will develop over the course of the series…Goose did say that Jax would only get worse over the show’s run so I’m guessing it’ll have to do with him being generally antagonistic with them.

[riisume]

Ya know, Maeve was supposed to be lesbian but I’m HIGHLY considering making her Pan with a preference for women… 🤔

[thatbuddie]

you seriously cannot make this up: you have people reblogging fic featuring a racist character as half of the main ship in the morning then trying to give morality lessons in the evening by calling others homophobic over a joke.

THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE, BABES.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

heyyyyyyyyyy

🍬, 🩵, 💜, 🧬

For Jackson and Finn?

(@markbeakskisser)

Hihiii!!! Thank you so so much hehe!!!

I was maybeee considering putting a read more at first, but after answering that last question for both of them and getting more invested than I anticipated, I'm absolutely gonna put a read more🤣 but again, thank you as always this was splendid.

🍬 - do they like sweets? whats their favorite kind of candy?

I don't think Jackson is super big on sweets or candy, but when he does want something sweet, he normally goes for cake. I've seen him repeatedly get things like strawberry shortcake style sorts of stuff, or strawberry sando(i think thats the name for them? Correct me if im wrong)/those Japanese strawberry sandwiches that are on that special milk bread and have strawberries and like a type of whipped cream on them. He seems to specifically get the strawberry ones as opposed to any other fruit sort of varient. I haven't ever seem him get much candy, occasionally he'll get some sort of whipped-chocolatey cake or chocolate sort of snack or desert, but that's about it.

It is really really funny this one gets mentioned of Finn cause a few days ago I wanted to(and thought I had done it but I suppose I forgot) make a post about how I love the thought that licorice is Finn's favorite sort of candy or sweet(if those can be considered sweet). He likes the assorted licorice best like Taveners, but he normally leans to things that are a bit more high-end or closer to the top of the shelf. He also really really loves those little cherry chocolates or cherry liqueurs chocolates. Nearly just about any box of chocolates would make him quite happy, but those will get him even more.

🩵 - does your f/o (if romantic) use any kind of pickup lines on you?

Jackson is quite smug, and before he has his moments of getting softer or letting some walls down, he definitely makes some few teasing comments about how he's aware of how much I like him. He absolutely makes a couple comments to use as an excuse to stroke his own ego while making me flustered at the same time. He circles back a bit to his teasing once he starts to get more relaxed again about getting close to someone. He doesn't ever have any textbook flirt lines though, 95% of that stuff would perhaps make him roll his eyes.

Mm.. I don't know if pickup lines is the best way to describe some of the stuff Finn says, cause he leans a lot more towards being endearing and perhaps even a bit of flattery, like praising different qualities of me or comparing me to wonders or things he has a deep fondness of, as opposed to cheesy one-liners that you get off of Google and would use for someone that you're maybe meeting at a party or a bar(this isn't slander I swear).

💜 - if your f/o could receive any gift in the entire world, no matter what it was, what would they want?

Oh man, this is a bit of a hard choice for both of them! Honestly I think Jackson would want something 'simple'. He'd probably ask for some sort of high-end latest gaming computer set-up, or some sort of expansion pack for a new release of a game he likes that costs like 80-120$+(Sims players who have scrolled through the Sims DLC know where numbers like that come from).

"Yea, but like, ANYTHING. You could have ANYTHING."

"I know."

And that's how the whole conversation would go and if you kept asking or trying to push him for a different answer he'd probably begin to look at you as if you were the funny one! Anything is anything, at least he didn't ask for like an orange or apple or something.

Finn would absolutely say something like he'd wish for me or wish for my safety or something, and he would mean it with his whole heart. He'd consider it for about five or ten seconds and then that's it. I don't think he'd wish for a physical item or such, he'd probably lean towards a more abstract sort of thing, like the gift of wellness for the people he cares about. He doesn't mean it in some sort of self-righteous manner like how some would say the gift of world peace, but in his line of career, it gets "tiresome", to say the least, to constantly be worried or ache over the condition or safety of someone you like. He said it best, friends are dangerous in his line of work.

🧬 - if your f/o could go into any other career than they're currently in, what would they go into?

Honestly, I don't know if "career" is a fitting word for the situation Jackson would get himself into. Nothing ever really interested or intrigued him asides from that racing simulator game that he was incredible at, and him winning a competition for it was the main reason he ever got offered or considered actually racing in a real-life setting. I know F1 and a few other racing devisions has things like competitive online simulator racing that gets treated like on the same level as in real life racing, but as far as I know NASCAR has nothing like that. He honestly seemed to be making quite the income though from winning so many competitions that were held over the game. I don't know if it was enough that he didn't need any other sort of income, but he was doing something that was okay enough to be out in California on his(seemingly; assumebly) lonesome. I don't know what he would get into outside of racing since he has such little things that captivate him, truthfully I think he'd be kind of a 'floater', he'd probably end up running late night shifts or very isolated jobs or jobs where you can work by yourself. Things like being the person that watches the cameras in escape rooms or game rooms, or where he could have as little interaction with others as possible.

Mm. Actually, kinda just had a light bulb moment, unironically I could see him possibly getting into doing streaming on like Twitch or something. He could just turn off the display that shows chat and the viewer count and he might as well still be in his own spot. Plus you get the choice of kinda deciding your own schedule. I mean, it's a lot simpler worded on paper.

I don't like that I thought "butler" for Finn as a first thought(need to clarify im talking like Sebastian from Black Butler level of stuff). Or like, hitman. Say what you want, but it takes a special kind of person to get into something like being a spy, he is an incredibly well-composed man and is awfully sweet and a gentleman, but he still does incredibly risky and adrenaline leaning sorts of things. I mean, the opener of the movie is him having an infiltration and committing murder moment, he has to carry around weapons on him constantly, I mean, there's a part in the movie where they are at an AIRPORT and he's having to juggle things like spy cameras, guns, missiles, at an AIRPORT. And not once does he ever like falter at all throughout the movie. I mean, I get he's a well-seasoned spy, but he is not getting into some sort of normal career. He's going to like borderline Sherlock Holmes himself into something, trying to scratch and itch. Honestly, it's probably a good thing he got into being a spy, because I think there's a limited area he could get himself in that would satiate or satisfy him. One of the(many) reasons I like him so much is it's so, so, so overlooked that nature of his field and the things he commits and has to do in the movie, he just bears it all really well with a borderline docile seeming nature and good demeanor. He's like the unironic "don't get on my bad side" and if you do you'll catch a treacherous glint in his eyes like wolf staring down a rabbit.

Very many reflections of Spy TF2, to put it into layman's terms(or someone's terms, at least).

It's almost like asking what other environment would you put a polar bear in if it could survive being in any other environment. Like! IT'S A POLAR BEAR!! I DONT KNOW. HAVE YOU *SEEN* WHAT THOSE THINGS DO?? Very different story if you ask the polar bear lovers and polar bear cubs as opposed to if you ask the seal. For the sake of everyone keep him as a spy. Er- euhm- for the sake of most people that aren't at the other end of his assigned mission/job.

I just love exploring the bit of Finn that is a bit over looked and a bit... Michael Caine from Sleuth(FANTASTIC COMPARISON, KANE, I KNOW).

I don't have the words for it asides from comparisons.. clearly.. but he's a bit.. abnormal, more than most, more than I usually use that word to describe them.

[copiawife]

i really hesitate to make much concrete in my lore with copia at this point just because you know his story is still ongoing. there's going to be new revelations within probably the year and i don't want to have to scrap stuff because it doesn't quite fit

[nerdykeppie]

Okay, y'all.

I'm gonna be really up front with everybody in a way that I'm usually not:

This year so far has been really rough, in a way that kinda has me worried. Bear with me, and there will be dog pictures along the way and pictures of new swag at the end, ok?

Running a small business is always rough, and with everything going on - with me being down-and-out struggling to get my hysterectomy approved, with everything going on financially & politically, with Jake moving out here - we knew that this year probably wouldn't be a banner year, but...

... when I pulled reports at the end of May, I was kinda shocked and gutted because at the start of June, we were actually down a considerable amount year over year. I knew the year wouldn't be great, but like, oof.

Pride is usually where we make our money for the year - we call it "gay Christmas," because where other retailers count on their holiday season, we count on Pride to make sure that our employees get paid during January of the following year.

Pause for Ser Davos Seawoof:

This Pride has started ... slowly. Not terribly, but a little more slowly than I'm comfortable with, and slowly enough that I'm nervous. We invested a lot of money in new stock and equipment, and that's got to pay off. Right?

So here's the pitch:

We need to make at least $60K in sales this month to make sure that we're in good shape for the upcoming year. We are currently at $8100, and we have a two-day event coming up in Seattle at the end of the month, but that still gives us an awful lot of ground to make up.

If we hit our sales goal for this month, NerdyKeppie will donate 1% of our net profit for June to @queerliblib.

Just hitting that goal would both make it possible for us to know we can make it through the year & even if we have the worst profit margins this month, it'd be a minimum $250 donation.

We just added Express delivery as a shipping upgrade on most of our t-shirts (limited color and size options on that, which isn't under our control) so if you need something quick, we've got you, and everything from our Portland HQ collection ships usually within 2 business days.

Everything in our Bottoms & Tops collection is Buy 2, Get a 3rd 69% off with code TOP2BOTTOM until midnight tonight:

And as always, NerdyKeppie is 100% trans-owned and queer-run. We start all of our employees at a minimum of $25/hr, and all eligible employees are IWW members. We have no investors, and we have no shareholders to please. Big box corporations screw over small artists and drop Pride the minute it gets hard or controversial, but this is our life.

We're here for the long run. Help us stay and help us build resources for today & tomorrow, and get some cool-ass swag while you do.

💗🏳️‍🌈

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

[cesium-sheep]

okay I finished the fucking blanket, it’s huge. it’s gonna be so expensive to ship. 155oz of yarn, I can only compact it down to like 1.5′x1.5′x1′. (I have 5oz of yarn left over to make a mini one for jackie since she loved sleeping on it so much.) but we’ll be fine and it’s worth it. and I labeled all the socks with names of recipients (they were just labeled with shoe sizes) and sorted them and I can do as many as I want or as few as 3 pairs (in 2 colors) depending on how many I can fit on twine above one pot of dye and how much energy I have. I’ll be doing that tomorrow since arin’s covering a long shift and won’t be home to suffer the vinegar smell.

then I have one more pair of to-ship and a scrap tube to go with them (recipient isn’t sure if this alpaca yarn I’m using is safe for their wool allergy but would like to test it), and two pairs for arin, and I’d like a pair for me before I forget how to make them for 10 months. and I guess jackie’s scrap blanket will keep me occupied during phone calls for a week or two. and a batch of toffee if I can be assed, and packaging and addressing everything, and maybe christmas cards if I can convince myself it’s worth the energy. and then craftageddon will be over.

[fettuccin-e]

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.

When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.

He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.

He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive. 

This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.

He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.

“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”

“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.” 

And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.

But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.

“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?” he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.

He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.

It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.

Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.

“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.

“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.

“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.

“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.

“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.

“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.

Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.

“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.

He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?

“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way. 

He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”

“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-

You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them. 

When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.

“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”

You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”

“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[bitchesgetriches]

Everything You Need to Know about How to Increase Your Income

Make more money at the job you have

One of the simplest ways to increase your income is to just make your current employer pay you more. But while it may be simple, it ain’t always easy.

Santa Isn’t Coming and Neither Is Your Promotion: How To Get Promoted

How I Chessmastered Myself Into a Promotion at Work

The First Time I Asked for a Raise

You Need To Ask for a Fucking Raise

Ask the Bitches: “Can I Quit With Unvested Funds? Or Am I Walking Away From Too Much Money?” 

The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Salary

Make more money at your next job

All that said, you’re statistically more likely to increase your income faster by job hopping! So if your current employer doesn’t want to pay you more, leave that sinking ship behind in pursuit of a higher salary.

Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers

The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll

How NOT to Determine Your Salary

When It Comes to Salary Negotiations, Are You Asking for Enough?

What To Do When You’re Asked About Your Salary Requirements in a Job Interview

If Your Employer Refuses To Negotiate Salary, Try These 11 Creative Counteroffers

Season 4, Episode 9: “I’m on the Wrong Career Path. How Do I Convince a New Industry To Take a Chance on Me?” 

Invest your way to more money

Of course there are some who say the true path to wealth is passive income: when you stop working for your money and instead let your money work for you. And they’re not wrong! Here’s how we recommend you increase your income passively.

When Money in the Bank Is a Bad Thing: Understanding Inflation and Depreciation

Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not 

What’s the REAL Rate of Return on the Stock Market?

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One? 

Procrastinating on Opening a Retirement Account? Here’s 3 Ways That’ll Fuck You Over.

Season 4, Episode 1: “Index Funds Include Unethical Companies. Can I Still Invest in Them, or Does That Make Me a Monster?” 

Small Business Investing: A Kinder, Gentler Alternative to the Stock Market 

The Dark Magic of Financial Horcruxes: How and Why to Diversify Your Assets 

Make more money through side hustles

When it comes to side hustles, we have traditionally advocated caution. The last thing you want to do is burn out in pursuit of a second income stream. But with enough wits and fortitude, a side hustle could help you increase your income by leaps and bounds.

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

Season 2, Episode 9: “I Use My Free Time to Volunteer. Should I Focus on Making Money Instead?”

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract 

Season 4, Episode 10: “I’m a Freelance Artist. How Do I Price My Work Fairly Without Losing Clients?”

Ask the Bitches: My Boss Won’t Give Me a Contract and I’m Freaking Out 

“Independent Contractor” My Ass: How to Stop Wage Theft Through Worker Misclassification 

Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (In the Midst of a Pandemic) With Katelyn Magnuson 

11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-employed Freelancer, and How You Can Avoid Them

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

What to do when you make more money

Once you increase your income, you might find yourself… not quite bored, but finding you have a little more bandwidth to handle the stuff that matters. It can be a jarring transition! Here are our thoughts on the matter.

Season 3, Episode 7: “I’m Finished With the Basic Shit. What Are the Advanced Financial Steps That Only Rich People Know?” 

Season 3, Episode 4: “The More Money I Save, the More I’m Scared To Lose It. Can I Break the Cycle of Financial Anxiety?” 

How to Avoid Lifestyle Inflation … and When to Embrace It

Ask the Bitches: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Update: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed 

The FIRE Movement, Explained 

I Was Happy to Marry a Poor Man. Then Things Changed.

I Have Become the Rich Relative I Always Wanted 

Believing in Miracles: A Conversation with Chris Dane Owens on Money, Creativity, and Self-Funding Art 

I Now Make More Money Than My Husband, and It’s Great for Our Marriage 

Season 2, Episode 1: “I’m Financially Stable, but My Friends Aren’t. The Guilt Is Crushing!”

The Resignation Checklist: 25 Sneaky Ways To Bleed Your Employer Dry Before Quitting

Advocate for systemic change

We don’t endorse an attitude of “I got mine.” So once you increase your income, there are lots of ways to use your newfound financial breathing room for good! Lift as you climb, my friend. Here are a few ways to do so:

Wallet Activism: Using Your Money for Good with Author Tanja Hester 

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job 

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Post a Salary Range in the Job Description, You Fucking Cowards

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Truth About Unions: What Has Organized Labor Done for You? 

How To Support a Labor Strike with 3 Simple Steps

Everything in moderation

One last thing, my lambs: don’t crush your spirit while chasing the goal of a higher income. Working hard is hard work. If you find these tactics are leaving you exhausted and demoralized, you might be on the road to burnout. And that road leads nowhere good!

That’s why we just released our glorious new Burnout Workshop. Click the button below to take a peek!

Get the Burnout Workshop Here!

[talk-danmei-to-me]

pls pls pls pls make a list of all danmei people should read. I am thirsty for love and angst and pls be my salvation

Omg I can't say no to that!

Full disclosure, I've only been reading danmei since May. Also, I only read official translations. Others may be able to give a wider range.

But since you asked so nicely, let's go!

1) Yuwu/Remnants of Filth

Obviously, my number 1 is going to be the danmei I spend 80% of my time here trying to convince people to read.

Yuwu is a gift for fans of angst, literally opens with the MC getting stabbed in the heart and Meatbun doesn't let up from there.

Fun fact - the only Meatbun without non-con elements in the primary ship.

Sad fact - it also lacks her usual comedy.

Why I love it: Mo Xi, my princess, genuinely the saddest boy in all of danmei. I'm ridiculously invested in Ximang's quest for happiness.

2) 2ha/Erha/The Husky and his White Cat Shizun

At it's heart (at least to where the official translations are up to) 2ha is a romantic comedy. Tropes you may have found in other danmei hit so good (ghost weddings and shizun fucking).

Fun fact - Has my favourite confession scene out of all danmei I've read.

Sad fact - Being Meatbun's most popular work, you can basically collect spoilers like pokemon cards. Not even ao3 tags are safe.

Why I love it - Meatbun's smut writing is S tier and Mo Ran is one of my favourite protaganists... although he has some competition.

3) To Rule in a Turbulent World

Enter You Miao! His introduction made me fall in love with him just as fast as I did Mo Ran! There's a reason everyone raves about chapter 3. Hilarious, horny and wholesome. The side characters are amazing, the main couple is adorable and it's giving hints of political powerplays. Also the first danmei I've read that seems to really deliver when it comes to skinship. The main couple literally can't keep their hands to themselves.

Fun fact - I'm only 50% through but I am buying every single Fei Tian Ye Xiang 7 seas is about to release day 1.

Sad fact - there's no pictures. Also I'm not sure how angsty it's going to get.

Bonus: For the toxic yaoi fan in your life

Meatbun's most unhinged work. She's peddling all the toxic smut fans of bl mangas and manhwas will be familiar with. Even though it's modern it made me nostalgic for that reason. He Yu is a clown and I adore him. Meatbun is airing all her kinks with this one and I'm not mad about it.

Fun fact- This is the first modern danmei I've read. Also, one of the more fun uses of the straight man trope I've read.

Sad fact - Vol 3 cliffhanger!

Why I love it - It's just pure Meatbun chaos.

(Am I just exposing myself as a Meatbun stan, probably, but she delivers every time.)

[meteor752]

Epic the musical side story where Hades and Persephone get really invested in the story during The underworld saga, sorta small talk about the strange man for the next couple of years, and then freak the fuck out in the audience during god games when they find out not only is the guy still alive, he’s managed to piss off like half the pantheon

Just

“Hey babe?”

“Yeah Perse?”

“There’s like, a bunch of mortals here”

“Mortals? What, how?”

“Idk, they’re like, on some ship”

“Huh. Should I call Thanatos, have him take care of it, or should we just wait it out”

“Call Thanatos, best to rid the garden of any pests before they manage to kill your flowers”

“Pfft, alright. I’ll be right back”

“Okay- wait. A bunch of the dead are singing to him”

“What?”

“Yeah like a bunch. Who are they?”

“Uhh, most of them drowned, a few killed by a cyclops. One broke his neck?”

“They’re singing about a cyclops, about how he let one live or something”

“Probably one of Poseidons. Should I still call Thanatos?”

“No wait, I wanna see where this goes.”

“Alright.”

“An infant, what infant?”

“Maybe the cyclops?”

“OH NEW GUY! He seems important!”

“Also a cyclops victim. They seem close, what do you think friend or lover?”

“They’re Greek, it’s probably both”

“I don’t know how he managed it, but this guy brought down like, the entire vibe of the entire underworld. That shouldn’t be possible”

“Yeah. Oh who’s this lady now?”

“Suicide by drowning. Not sure. Maybe a relative”

“Yeah may-THATS HIS MOM”

“OH MY GODS. OH HE DIDNT KNOW OH LORD”

“Hooooooly fuck, what a way to find out”

““Here in the underworld the past is always close behind”. Think we should make that a slogan?”

“Then we’d have to credit him and stuff tho”

“Yeahhhh. Well, seems like this guy is sticking around for a few hours. Should I grab some popcorn?”

“Yeah I’ll grab the fainting couches”

~~~

“Okay what’s happening now?”

“He just stated speaking to Tiresias”

“Tiresias? He went all the way to the underworld to speak with a prophet?”

“Well he is quite good”

“Wait did Tiresias just reject him?”

“I think so? Oh wait predictions”

“Past romance, sacrifice, betrayal, and some final battle? Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Dunno, but he’s not going home that’s for sure”

“Palace? He must be a king of some kind then”

“Do we know the names of any mortal kings”

“Nope, so that didn’t help at-wait his wife is doing what”

“Ohhh, that must be rough, hearing it from a prophet”

“Okay this chanting is getting intense. I think I heard the word Scylla”

“I heard lightning bolt”

“That doesn’t bode well”

~~~

“He’s just, sitting there”

“Is he done? Should we-oh. No okay new song, let’s see what’s going on”

“Man this guy has it rough. Should we like, do something?”

“I mean, I’m not really the “bless the mortals” type of god. I mean I let a guy borrow my helm once, and I haven’t seen it since. I should probably check up on that actually”

“Yeahhh. They killed a friend of the cyclops?”

“That explains all the cyclops victims”

““Witch turn men to pigs”, you think that’s Circe?”

“Sounds like he-WHAT WAS THAT THIRD ONE”

“You don’t think-?”

““God comes down and makes a fleet drown”, I am most definitely sure!”

“Damn. Wait wooden horse? Oh, I know who this guy is!”

“Really?”

“Yeah he’s one of Athenas warriors! Ody something. Odyssen? Odyssa? Whatever, I remember the horse thing was a big deal when it happened, Ares was pissed, Hermes spread the word to all of mount Olympus”

“One of Athenas eh? Interesting. Oh yeah, the god was definitely Poseidon”

“How are you sure?”

“That line he just sung, “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves”, Posy is always fucking saying that crap”

“500 men? Damn”

“Penelope, presumably the wife. Don’t know about the other guy tho”

“Either a son, brother, or lover. Or maybe just a friend I dunno”

“Another infant? What the fuck is wrong with this guy, pulling a fucking Hera”

“Gotta appreciate the determination of him”

“Yeah, but I think we’ll see him here again soon. If he’s pissed of Poseidon, and soon to be Zeus if Tiresias is to be believed, I don’t think he’ll get much further when he gets out of here”

“So we are letting him go”

“Yeah. Partly because I want to see what happens next. When he gets here we’ll ask him to tell the full story, from beginning to end”

“Alrighty then”

~~~

“I swear if I get dragged out of the underworld for one of Zeus’ little games one more time this year I might actually start a war”

“Mum keeps staring at me…fuck she’s probably gonna try and talk after this, fuck meeeeee”

“We can escape in the middle of it, no one will know”

“Oh she’ll know. Do you know what this is about like, at all?”

“No, but I think Hermes might launch into the fourth dimension if he keeps vibrating like that in his seat”

“Yeesh”

“Hmm, odd. I don’t see Posy anywhere”

“Maybe he’s competing?”

“Nah, he always declines when Zeus asks, he hates it”

“Why were you not invited?”

“Dunno, probably has nothing to do with me”

“Oh it’s starting, it’s starting”

“Athena’s challenging eh? Interesting”

“Would love to know what any of this is about”

“Mortal lover? Demi-god child? Those are the usual subject”

“Yeah but that’s not Athenas thing. Probably something to do with one of her “warriors” or whatever”

“Apollo, of course. Always has to be apart of these things”

“The drama queen”

“Truly”

“Hephasteus and Aphrodite? That’s a little awkward”

“Weird lineup so far- fucking Ares? Yeah shes not winning this one, sibling spite is stronger than any argument she can give”

“Why would all three of them be included. I can feel the tension from here. I’m uncomfortable”

“And Hera? Yeah no she’s loosing for sure, Hera like not care less about any mortal, unless they’ve offended her”

“She might be convinced, just to spite Zeus?”

“That just sounds unhealthy on so many levels”

“Alright let’s see what this is about”

“Hold up, Ody?”

“Oh my gods. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well he was one of her warriors. Was he not?”

“I can’t believe he’s still trying to get home. It’s been like ten years, how the fuck”

“Well, if he pissed off Poseidon then he probably has something to do with it, the pissy bastard”

“Killed sirens. Why would you do that, so unnecessary”

“Sacrifice??? What the fuck is this man up to????”

“Didn’t we have a few Scylla sacrifices a few years back. Think that was him?”

“Holy shit we did. Yeah, Posy stays away from Scylla to the best of his ability, travelling in her domain to avoid him is not a bad idea”

“‘Phro is mad that his mum died? Girl you are grasping at straws, even more than the previous two”

“Hold up, why the fuck was I not invited?! He traveled through my domain, disturbed my souls, he even woke up Cerberus with his monster wailing, I should be apart of this!”

“I mean it’s a bit weak”

“I have more grounds to be down there than fucking Apollo. Like sirens? Come on man”

“Oh ‘Phro refused huh? Only got two, that’s kinda weak coming from Athena, she usually gets at least four”

“Is that cheating? Her quick thought thing. That cheating?”

“Are there any actual rules?”

“Just, try to win, I guess”

“Oh Ares turn. Wait she lost Aphrodite, this should be over”

“I think this is more of a personal thing. Like I said, sibling spite”

“Oh yeah, Scylla! Fuck this guy is getting around”

“Oh damn, that pissed her off”

“Guessing that the guy other that Penelope, Telemewhatever was his child then”

“Oh wait they yielded?? Huh, never thought that would happen”

“And, Heras turn”

“Yeah like I said she does not give a fuck. But it was a good run”

“Yeah, keeping her four out of five streak”

“Wait what the fuck was that”

“She- she actually yielded?”

“And for not cheating! Man I love this guy, I can’t wait for him to die”

“Only you babe. Wait holy fuck she won?”

“Oh Zeus won’t like- oh, just like I said. He’s pissed”

“Is he gonna kill her?”

“If he does I’ll just resurrect her probably. She deserves a better end, even if she is annoying”

“Well, should we go then?”

“Yeah I have some paperwork to- do I hear boss music?”

“OH SHES STILL ALIVE!!”

“She took a lightning bolt to the face and lived, holy fuck. Gotta respect it”

“I think, she’s actually convincing him? Never thought I’d see the day”

“Well, she’s his favourite child. I think if Ares tried something similar he’d just get struck by another lightning bolt”

“Well, that was fun. When I come back up for spring I’ll have to check with Hermes more about the details of what’s live, actually going on with this Ody dude”

“Yeah. Wanna stop for applebees before we head on down?”

“Yeah, but let’s go now cause mum is heading like right for me and I don’t wanna deal with that until another few months”

This was dumb lol