#Idioms Part 2

[susanhorak]

#spoken_english #تعلم #learn_english #تعلم_الانجليزية تعلم الإنجليزية | مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية | مصطلحات الجزء الثانى مما لا شك فيه أن تواجد مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية مهمة جدا فى تعلم اللغة الإنجليزية حيث أنها جزء مهم جزء مهم جدا من اللغة لأنها تستخدم بشكل كبير فى الكتابة والحديث. وتعد مصطلحات الجزء الثانى مهمة كثيرة و حفظ معانيها يزيد من قدرتك و إمكانياتك فى اللغة الإنجليزية وكذلك يرفع رصيد مخزونك اللغوى من المفردات.فى هذا الدرس سوف نشرح اهم مصطلحات الجزء الثانى وعليك ربطها بباقى دروس مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية

لو عجبك الفيديو اعمل مشاركة تعلم الإنجليزية | مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية | مصطلحات الجزء الثانى https://youtu.be/mdGCFOx9op0

ليصلك كل جديد اشترك بالقناه http://bit.ly/2HQGd4q

يمكنك الاستفادة من الدروس المميزة تعلم الإنجليزية | مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية | مصطلحات الجزء الثانى https://youtu.be/mdGCFOx9op0

تعلم الإنجليزية - نطق الكلمات الانجليزية - اخطاء فى النطق الجزء الرابع https://youtu.be/H7W2tAuLqac

تعلم الإنجليزية - النطق الصحيح للانجليزية - الجزء الرابع https://youtu.be/p9CMWdBQom8

تعلم الإنجليزية - تحدث الإنجليزية الأصلية - تحدث الانجليزيه بطلاقه https://youtu.be/LaF8F1W2-M8

تعلم الإنجليزية - لماذا أتعلم الإنجليزية - تعليم اللغة الانجليزية https://youtu.be/lktv_TM5fVQ

تعلم الإنجليزية | مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية | مصطلحات الجزء ال��ابع https://youtu.be/fOmV6W22aWc

تعلم الإنجليزية | مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية | مصطلحات الجزء الخامس https://youtu.be/_Z54mI9b78o

#مواقع_تعليم_انجليزي #برامج_تعليم_انجليزي #تعلم_اللغة_الانجليزية #تعلم #spoken_english #english_speaking_course_online #spoken_english_in_telugu #نهي_طلبة , Noha Tolba

[leixo-demo]

yo how did ikkan and warabi confess to each other……. like how did that go

It's strange but I'll go like this:

extra, after math

[uravitypng]

bokuto can't help but have his hands on you at all times of the day. it's sometimes inconvenient but if he touches you less and sits next to you without having his hands on you in some way you feel down, it just isn't right.

you want him to grab hold of your love handles and pull you towards him like normal. want him to pull you into his lap while you complain that you might be too heavy and you should just sit next to him. bokuto normally smells your hair and whispers to you making a chill run up your spine. he kneads your thighs and presses his fingers into your skin because he "can't help it, you just feel so soft." tells you how pretty you are and how beautiful you look. and right now he's doing none of that, it's been like that for a full day and it's driving you mad, you're going crazy and you just want him to touch you again.

bokuto isn't doing it on purpose, he wants to respect your boundaries, you complain whenever he touches you in public or around people or if he lifts you and manhandles you so he's stopped doing it. just in case there is some truth in what you're saying he wants to make sure you're comfortable and it's better safe then sorry.

"i'm off to practice now baby." bokuto tells you before he bends down onto the sofa from where you're sitting and kisses your forehead.

you say okay but you can't help but pout, you've been pouting all morning. before he opens the door he hears you mumble "still don't know why you're not touching me properly though," he leaves but reflects on what you said all the way to practice, sad that he's made you unhappy. it's something that he never thought would happen, he hates it.

it clicks into place halfway during practice about what you mean and he can't stop himself from laughing, getting some questionable looks from his teammates. that's just like you if things don't go your own way, maybe that's why you're so compatible together, you both just get each other. after practice ends bokuto knows exactly where you'll be, you'll be getting both you and him a drink and you've got the biggest sweet tooth around so also some kind of sweet treat from your favourite coffee shop.

he saw you earlier on in the day but he misses you already, he sees you waiting in line and runs up from behind with the biggest smile on his face clutching onto your pudgy waist as he asks you if you're going to be good now and let him hold you. "i...i don't know what you're talking about." you splutter.

bokuto grin widens. "okay-" he starts before he begins to unwrap his arms around you, causing you to reach up him and pull his hands tighter around you.

"don't you dare koutarou."

[shiroi---kumo]

@lunaferrous || [ x ]

"Miss Luna I am afraid I do not quite understand? What does cleaning the floor have to do with your war game? And in my honest opinion the floor already looks quite clean. I fear there just be some earthly context I am missing."

[madschiavelique]

Hi dear, how are you?, could you write an imagine onde reader mentioning offhand how much she would love a whole family. Four, maybe six children? Girls and boys split right down the middle, but the second Miguel hears this (maybe the reader is on the phone, or talking to lyla. or someone at HQ) and Miguel loses his mind

1) Miguel can't help himself and he would grab you and put you on the mattress for a very long time...... or

2) torture himself for two weeks before telling her why he was avoiding her please.

HIHIHI BREEDING BARK BARK (sorry this took so long to write anon zehfrfgh i pulled an all nighter to make this one so also forgive me if there are some mistakes in this gksffgjgbf)

summary : miguel learns you want kids, a lot of kids, so he breeds you

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), breeding kink, soft!dom miguel, obsessive!miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 3,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash @haradasaya

Miguel was on his way to see you. He'd heard that you were back from your mission and that everything had gone well, so he'd come to get you to take you out for lunch.

He was taking advantage of the little free time he had to visit you, even though he would obviously pass this visit off as work-related in everyone's eyes. He had to always, always remain professional and keep everything under control so that everybody could do their bit.

"Six?!" asked Jess, the word choking in her throat.

Well, you were indeed back with Jess.

"Mhm, six," you affirmed as you both busied yourselves filing a report.

What were they talking about? He leaned against a wall. He knew it wasn't very polite to eavesdrop, but the word got around here. Most of society's building had cameras, and everything that was often said or done was recorded here.

He just wanted to listen to you, wondering if there were any topics of conversation that you weren't having with him and with the other spiders. Yes, he was manic, and probably a little too obsessive.

In any case, he wondered what you could have said to Jessica to make her exclaim like that.

"The more the merrier," you laughed softly.

"I hate this sentence so much," sighed Jess.

"Why so?" your voice was sincerely interrogative.

"In this context, it's really not my preferred idiom one might say," she replied as Miguel heard her tapping on a pad to enter more information.

What on earth could they be talking about? he wondered. What subject could suggest that six was far too high a number for Jess's judgement? He knew that Jess was an oragnised woman like himself, with a lot of tact and a fair amount of authority.

Was it perhaps a consecutive number of days doing an activity? Six days of marathon running might have been a bit much, but six days' holiday was never too much. He breathed in very softly, it had been years since he'd had time for such a thing. Did you want to take him on a holiday? If so, the number of days was inordinate. He would never be able to get away from his work for more than three days.

Maybe it was something else then. What was too much in Jess's mind with six?

Six empanadas perhaps? Miguel would obviously disagree. You can never have enough empanada for his taste. But Jess would probably disapprove.

Six... Six pets? It's true that having six pets might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least in Miguel's eyes of course.

Perhaps six books? No, that didn't make sense. Although Jess wasn't a huge reader, she did have a book in her hands from time to time.

So what was it? He was intrigued, that's for sure.

"You know, in my opinion, one kid is already way too much to handle," she sighed, "but six ? Nah, that's some good way of ending your life while still being alive."

But Miguel had barely heard the rest of the sentence, his mind having been caught by a single word: kid. He immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Kid, like... children ? Like, actual human beings ? Small human beings ?

His eyes were wide, his mouth parted. No, he must not have heard correctly, although he dreamed that it was indeed that word that had been uttered.

"Why not? Surrounding ourselves with life is good," you said softly. "I'd love to see six little heads running around. I want three of each, three girls and three boys."

He wasn't mistaken: the discussion was really about the number of children you wanted. Six, he thought, six, six, the word echoing in his mind. He put both his hands on his hips, as if to hold on to something.

He pictured you, your rounded belly, stroking the hair of a child, your child, his child... both your children.

He swallowed, however, as another, immensely more tantalising vision took hold of his mind.

The vision of your cunt, glistening with your desire as from between its lips dripped little by little his own cum, his own seed leaking from you, your belly full of him...

It made his dick twitch for a hot second, and he couldn't remove that image, he didn't want to get rid of that image. The idea that your belly could be full of him, that he could breed you until he had no strength left was magnificent.

"What an egalitarian spirit," Jess noted wryly, "Well, it's all in order."

His thoughts were riveted on the image. He could almost hear in his own mind the sweet melody your moans would make as he came inside you again.

No, it was now impossible for him to think about anything else, he told himself that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this. Except it's a well-known fact that if you tell someone not to think about something, they'll think about it.

He knew what breeding was, obviously, but what about you? Did you even have a clue what it was?

He tried to pull himself together, he had to either leave here or come towards you and pretend to come naturally. Would he be able to hold it together and act as if nothing had happened? Did he really have a choice in the matter after all? He breathed in, tightening his jaw as he decided to come towards you.

He walked purposefully, his usual grumpy face set surprisingly naturally as he advanced towards you.

"Ah, you're back," he sighed as if pleasantly surprised to see you both here, "how was the mission?"

"Excellent," Jess affirmed, "we've just finished the report, the anomaly has been taken care of as it should have been since we arrived."

He nodded, his serious face opening a control pad to check what she was saying and opening the file in question, pretending to read its contents. He had the impression that everywhere he looked the image came right back to him, on every tile, on every screen, everywhere in his mind.

"That's good work," he breathed.

"Damn right," nodded Jess. " Well, I'm off to join my own little demon, take care you two."

"See ya," you replied as she headed for the exit.

He wondered by what superhuman strength he managed to remain unwavering and stoic.

You moved closer to him, hugging his back and comforting yourself in the embrace.

"How was your day?" you asked, squeezing him in your arms.

Unwavering and stoic, Miguel, you have to remain unwavering and stoic.

You put your hands on his body, and with one touch his concentration was simply wiped out.

He turned to you, smiling a strange, uncertain smile as he stroked your hair, a little tense.

"You know how it is, just a lot of work," but his eyes were watching yours strangely, a flash of a vision where they were filled with desire looking back at him.

You studied him for a moment, noticing how distracted he seemed, his eyes looking at you in a strange way. You could feel a kind of desire there, a kind of longing, but you couldn't work out what it was.

"Is... everything alright?"

He shuddered, obviously his little show wasn't going to last much longer. He broke away from your embrace, he couldn't keep looking at you like that.

"Hey," you said softly, "you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Could I tell you this ? he wondered. He looked at you for a moment, another flash of you all moaning and covered in hickeys and marks on your body as you breathed his name. He looked away, closing his eyes in the hopes the flashes would stop.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak about this..."

But how he wanted to speak about this, to tell you how much he wanted to fuck you until you were full of him, until the only thing present in your mouth was his name and how much he wanted to see the sight of your round belly.

But you wouldn't listen to his silence. So you walked over to him and took his hand.

"Miguel, look at me. you asked, and he looked at you, his visions mingling with the reality where you were looking at him, worried. "Tell me."

He sighed. He couldn't run away from his ideas forever, run away from these images that he wanted to see in reality and not just in his mind. He wanted to raise his idea from the theoretical to the practical, and it was with an almost guilty breath that he admitted:

"I want to breed you."

There was a slight silence, his eyes plunged into yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. But above all he was met with confusion.

"What's breeding?" You had an idea of the term, usually used animalistically for the subject of... reproduction and maintenance of species. But just to be on the safe side with Miguel, you preferred to ask him anyway.

His lungs swelled like sails, did he really have to go through this?

"Why don't you ask Lyla what it is?" he suggested.

"Because I want to hear it from you, with your words" you assured him, your tone a mixture of strictness and curiosity.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek, slightly afraid of your reaction. You were practically hanging on his every word, waiting for him to explain.

"Breeding is... the act of a male and a female animal having sex, also known as mating, to reproduce..." he explained, pausing, "and procreate."

Your eyes widened slightly, and the possibility that he had overheard your previous conversation with Jess came to mind. All the same, you looked at him almost inscrutably, and he couldn't work out what you were thinking.

But now that the words had been said, he could no longer hide, no, he no longer had to hide. His thoughts were finally out, burning on his skin and lips.

He moved forward a little more, his gaze suddenly darkened by the desires he was no longer hiding.

"I want to fill you up with my cum and make sure you get pregnant."

Your lips were parted, your surprised eyes looking into his, black with desire and longing. A silence filled the air, both your hearts beating loudly in both your bodies. Miguel waited for an answer, unaware of the warm cloud that had settled in your lower belly.

He chuckled a little, an understanding smile gracing his lips as he said:

"See, your silence tells me enoug-"

"Breed me," you cut him off.

He stopped moving immediately, the statement immobilising him just like when he had understood what you and Jess were talking about.

Had his mind and his fantasies come together to play tricks on him? Or had you actually agreed with what he'd just said?

"What?" he said, his pronunciation almost slurred as he turned his attention to your next words.

"Breed me, Miguel" you repeated, determined as you swallowed in anticipation. "I want to carry you... in me."

The gleam in his eyes was almost predatory, but after all, wasn't that the very essence of breeding? The raw nature of it, the bestiality, the quenching of the oldest instinct that ever was.

You only had time to see his eyes turn red as he lunged for your lips, kissing you with his mouth wide open as your teeth almost clashed and he attacked your tongue.

The power with which he kissed you made you take a step backwards, but you weren't going anywhere, because Miguel immediately placed his hand in the small of your back to make sure he had you close to him.

He let out grunts between kisses, his hunger for your skin lengthening his canines as they brushed almost dangerously against your tongue.

Then he lifted you in one swift movement, placing you on his shoulder as he headed for the door leading to his quarters, his impatience growing faster than ever. You bit your lip, already swollen from his kisses, his hand gripping your thigh firmly as he led you to the bed.

He laid you down, following every movement of your body as he kissed you again. He stood back for a moment, watching your body.

"Do you have sentimental value for your suit?"

"What?" you asked, confused by the sudden question.

"Just answer," he asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean it's old but I can live withou-"

You hadn't even finished your sentence when he ripped off your suit with an ease that sent shivers down your spine, ripping the fabric covering your cunt, tearing your panties and throwing all the rags into the rest of the room.

"No questions about the sentimental value of my underwear?" you laugh lightly.

"I'll get you some new ones," he breathed, a carnivorous sneer inhabiting his lips, "I'll take great care in chosing them."

You swallowed as he kissed your neck, nestling in and marking your skin with thirst. He straightened to kiss your lips, and whispered against them:

"Turn over, get down on your elbows and knees".

You complied, his instructions increasing the size of the cloud of heat in your belly. You placed your folded arms flat on the sheets, your knees slightly apart.

"Lift your hips for me, nena," he commanded in a tone as soft as cotton.

You listened, arching your back as you lifted your hips, your ass gloriously up just for him to fuck. He swallowed, his hand coming to grip one of your buttocks and pulling it apart, pressing it between his fingers and gripping your skin full hand.

"Already so good and wet for me," he mused, one of his fingers passing between your folds.

Of course you were already wet, the way he had introduced the concept to you making you all fuzzy and warm in your belly. You'd never been against the idea of Miguel being a bit more violent, and to be honest you were excited by the idea of him being so from now on.

Once he'd coated himself sufficiently, he pushed one finger into you, soft moans falling from your lips filling the room. He added another one, and your lust was growing by the second. You were getting impatient too, but you couldn't help noticing that Miguel simply couldn't wait any longer.

Miguel was always very keen about taking his time, preparing you well apart from the few moments when one of you needed a quicky, but here eagerness was getting the better of him, and above all his most instinctive desires buried deep inside him had taken the reigns of all his actions.

The thought of him being in you through your core made him feel so drunk on you. These ideas had already been marinating in his mind for a while, it had only taken this conversation between you and Jess to flip the switch. And he observed in adoration, seeing you like this, underneath him with your much smaller frame, sitting up and ready to take him.

"Hands behind your back."

His orders became more and more urgent, his tone wavering with envy. It was impossible for him to formulate a whole sentence.

So you laid your face on the sheets, cheek pressed to your side as you brought your hands behind your back, joining your wrists together like you were imagining yourself handcuffed. You shivered as his hand, whose fingers had previously been inside you, reached out from between your folds and took both your wrists at the same time, locking them in this embrace. His hand was obviously big enough to hold both your wrists together and prevent you from breaking free from his grip.

He had locked you completely.

He had blocked out any possibility of you making a move other than squirming around him. Miguel would never tire of this control, this hold he had over you right now. You were his, nobody else's, and he would let eveybody know this by fucking his seed into you and get as many babies as you wanted.

That's when you felt the head of his dick coating itself with your juices, preparing to burry himself into you. You couldn't see Miguel like this, but you could hear him. Dark growls vibrated in his throat, deeper than you'd ever heard them before, and it felt intimidating.

He thrust, pushing his tip into you, and you let out a groan of relief that sank into the fabric of the sheets. You breathed softly, letting Miguel's thick, long cock sink into you. No matter how many times you had done it, taken him like that, you still couldn't get used to it.

His lower belly finally touched the skin of your ass, his dick deep inside you. And you felt him pressing against your stomach. You knew that if you brought one of your hands to your stomach, you'd feel the shape of his cock against your skin.

He was so deep in you, an almost bestial growl escaped him as he slowly began to pull back before thrusting in hard.

You let out a little cry of surprise and pleasure that echoed around the room, and he repeated the same gesture. He kept bearing down on you until he touched your slick on his lower belly and pulling away, pushing back in the next second until it'd touch his balls.

Your body was burning, unable to do anything but arch your back more and groan. Your hands were gripping the void, and the impossibility of finding a foothold in all this was making you feel out of control. But you were enjoying the sensations he was giving you, and so was he.

He listened to the symphony of your voice as he picked up the pace, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping all tight and warm around him was absolute perfection to him.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his first cum would hit, but he needn't have worried. Miguel could go on for a long, long time, and he just hoped that you could keep up, although he had no doubt that his best girl would live up to his expectations.

He could no longer string a sentence together properly, the words he was trying to whisper as he sank deep inside you coming out as if chewed up by his long fangs.

He grunted, his rhythm and the tilt of your two bodies giving you both exceptional sensations. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to burst as Miguel came closer.

And the world stopped spinning for a second.

You came together, your walls closing spasmodically around him as you felt him spill into you. Because that's what you wanted, right ? That's the one thing you desired, and he was going to give it to you entirely.

He pulled out, just for the pleasure of seeing the work he had so long dreamed of seeing. And the satisfaction was superb, his white creamy cum slowly pouring out of your wet cunt, still pulsing with desire.

A dark laugh rose from his throat as he sank back into you and you let out a startled moan. He lowered himself, his lips pressing against your ear.

"I hope you thought of six names."

It would be a long, long night.

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[ivyithink]

part 2 to this, kinda + older doodle

you wanna chomp on a tasty fresh frenchman, you be prepared for what comes after, armand

translation!

lestat: “You're going to teach me everything you know, now, aren't you?” (if google translator doesn’t lie, I don’t know french sorrrrry)

armand: “How the devil did I get mixed up with this imp?” (sorta, god it’s hard to translate idioms)

speaking about idioms! there’s another ukrainian one that really does fit these two like a glove imho (at least from armand’s pov). “лежати на серці” which literally translates to “to lie on the heart” (like in the first pic, get it?), and it can mean two things: 1. to be the subject of constant thoughts, worries, sufferings; to trouble, weigh someone down. or 2. to cause someone’s affection, to be liked by someone. liiiiiike, how perfect is that????

enjoy the stupid ass sketch of pic.1 that made me laugh, so I saved it

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A 7-Part Worldbuilding Template

PART 1: The Basics

What is your world called?

Estimate its population:

In one sentence, describe your world:

Is it set on: Earth; Alternate Earth; Not Earth / Another planet

PART 2: Geography

THE NATURAL WORLD Flora & Fauna; Creatures; Landscape; Diseases

How was the world created? How long ago was it created?

How do the laws of physics work?

How does the solar system move? What celestial beings exist (suns, stars, moons, etc.) and how do they relate to the world?

Flora & Fauna

How does the flora differ from region to region?

Do any plants have special or magical properties? Are any dangerous?

Creatures

What kind of wildlife roams which parts of your world? Where are they most commonly found?

How did the wildlife evolve?

Do mythical creatures such as dragons exist? How do they fit into the ecosystem?

Landscape

Where are the mountain ranges? Rivers? Forests? Deserts? Seas?

How does the terrain interact with its inhabitants?

Are there any “natural wonders” in your world? How were they formed?

Diseases

What natural diseases have evolved over time?

How are they transmitted?

How has this affected population growth?

LOCATIONS OF SIGNIFICANCE Capital City; Flags & Symbols

What are the major cities in your world? Ports? Most populated metropolises?

Is your world split geographically? (e.g. rural and urban, north and south, etc.) If so, how?

Capital City

What is the capital city of the world?

Why is it the capital?

Flags & Symbols

How does each city choose to represent itself (crest, flags, signature colors)?

WEATHER

What are the processes of your world that drive weather and ocean patterns?

Are certain regions more vulnerable to certain weather conditions?

Climate

How does the climate differ in each region?

What are the seasons like in your world? How many seasons are there?

PART 3: People

RACES & SPECIES Physical Build; Mannerisms & Etiquette; Customs & Rituals; Festivals

What intelligent species or races populate your world? Dwarves? Elves? Xenomorphs? Other? How did they come to exist?

How does each race or species perceive each other? How do they co-exist?

Physical Build

What do the inhabitants of your world look like? Do they have any distinguishing features?

What is the societal standard for beauty? How might this differ in each region of the world?

Mannerisms & Etiquette

What is the code of conduct between people of different ranks or classes? People of different cities or regions? Elders?

How do people in your world convey non-verbal boredom? Disbelief? Happiness? Respect?

What would be a gesture that is universally insulting in your world?

What etiquette exists in different parts of your world?

Customs & Rituals

Are there any rites of passages in your world? “Coming of age” celebrations? If so, what age marks the transition from child to adult?

What traditions surround death and burial? What about engagements and proposals of marriage?

Festivals

What are the important festivals of your world?

Why are they celebrated?

LANGUAGES Sayings; Accents; Greetings

How many languages exist in your world? How did they originate?

Which language is spoken most? Is there a universal language?

How do naming conventions differ in each region?

Sayings

What are common sayings? Idioms? Insults? “Untranslatable” words that only a certain group of people would understand?

Accents

If different languages exist, how does this affect the accents in your world? What do the accents say about the person (place of origin, social class, level of education, etc.)?

Greetings

How do people of the same race greet each other? How do people of different races greet one another?

Is there an informal and formal way to greet others depending on the level of familiarity (i.e. friends, acquaintances, elders, superiors, etc.)? What are the proper forms of address?

SOCIAL FRAMEWORKS Class or Caste Systems; Family Structure; Marriage

What social frameworks underlie the communities in your world?

What are the social taboos? What would one need to do in order to be kicked out of society?

Class or Caste Systems

Is there a class system? If so, how much emphasis does society place on it?

What are the tell-tale signs that a person belongs to a certain class?

How does class affect professions and trades in your world? Can anyone become a priest or a wizard, for example — or is it a privilege restricted to certain members of the hierarchy?

Family Structure

What is the normal family unit?

What is the social system within a family unit in your world? Patriarchal? Matriarchal?

What constitutes a good father? A good mother? A good child?

Marriage

How is marriage defined in your world? Is marriage a civil or religious institution?

Do people marry for love? If not, why do they marry?

PART 4: Civilization

HISTORY

How did civilization begin?

When was the earliest known record of history?

What were the significant wars that have taken place on your world’s soil? How have they shaped the present?

Can your world’s history be divided into significant eras (e.g. Georgian, Victorian, Edwardian, etc.)?

Myths

What myths exist in your world to explain the cosmos? How might this have in turn shaped religion?

How were stories passed through generations?

CULTURE Literature, Art & Music; Clothing; Cuisine

Is national culture and history a source of pride or shame in your world? How is it preserved?

What are some things that define each culture? What would a person from a certain city, region, or country be proudest of?

Literature, Art & Music

What is the role of the arts in your world’s culture? How is it perceived by society and how has it evolved?

Who are some celebrated or noted artists in history? What they known for?

How might the arts have changed as a result of outside influences (from other regions, cities, races, etc.)?

Are any of the arts taboo? If so, why?

Clothing

What is the customary dress? Is it gendered? If so, how?

What is considered fashionable and how does this differ from region to region?

How does the clothing one wears reflect status?

What is the dress code for each profession? How strictly followed must it be?

Cuisine

What are the regional dishes? How might this differ depending on the climate and environment?

Is there a difference between what the poor and the rich eat? What is considered a luxurious food? What is considered a staple food?

How are mealtimes approached? Is there a set hour to be at the table? Are there traditions that precede or follow a meal?

RELIGION Gods & Deities; Holy Texts; Significant Prophets

How do people worship in your world?

When and where do people worship?

Gods & Deities

Who are the major and minor gods that people worship?

What function do the gods serve in society?

Holy Texts

What (if any) holy texts exist?

How well-known are the scriptures? Would people of all ages be able to recite them on the spot if asked ?

Significant Prophets

Who are the important religious figures in the world?

For what reason are they significant?

EDUCATION

Does formal education exist? If so, who can access it? The rich? The clergy? Everyone in the general population?

If magic exists in your world, how is it studied? Do schools exist to train it?

What are literacy rates among the general population? How does this affect communication and the distribution of information?

LEISURE

How do people spend their leisure time in your world? What forms of entertainment are most common?

Are there any organized sports in your world? How might its rules and regulations differ from the ordinary?

PART 5: Technology, Magic & Weapons

MAGIC SYSTEMS Rules of Magic; Practitioning Magicians

For what purpose is magic used in your world? Who can use it?

What limits are there to its power? What are the consequences of using it?

What is the history of magic and magicians in your world?

How does society view magic? Positively? Negatively? As the Other?

Rules of Magic

How does magic work in your world? Where does it come from?

Is there a language that’s needed in order to call forth magic? If so, what are its roots?

Is magic regulated in any way? What is the governing body?

Practitioning Magicians

What are magicians’ status in society? Are they trusted advisors of kings or charlatans on the road?

How many magicians exist in your world? How do they perceive one another?

TECHNOLOGY

How advanced is the technology in your world? How does it work?

How does technology impact the different parts of society? Transportation? Communication? Medicine?

How does magic and technology interact and co-exist? Is it a rivalry? A co-op? Are there rules and regulations?

WEAPONRY Signature Weapons; Common Weapons

What weapons are predominant in your world (ranged, combat, anti-gravity, etc.) and why?

Who makes the weapons? How do they work? Is it easy to obtain them?

Signature Weapons

Are there special weapons (e.g. Thor’s Hammer)?

How are they made? How many of them exist in the world?

Common Weapons

Are there professions that necessitate the bearing of weapons?

What about religions?

PART 6: Economy

ECONOMICS

On which economic system does your world operate? A market economy? Feudalism? Socialism?

Is there a central bank?

How does the government regulate businesses?

TRADE & COMMERCE Currency; Major Imports & Exports; Natural Resources

How is trade facilitated? Is it carried out by traveling merchants? By a guild? Are there auctions?

What cities, countries, or regions are allies? Trade partners? How has this changed throughout history?

How is the soft power of a region, city, or country determined?

Currency

Is there a universal currency? If not, what are the regional currencies? What is the valuation?

How is the currency circulated and what are the denominations?

Can the currency be broken down into units (dollars, cents, dimes, quarters)?

Major Imports & Exports

What are the major exports of the region or city? Imports? How might this have evolved throughout history?

Does a particular region specialize in particular trade (i.e. livestock, weaponry, etc.)? Why?

Natural Resources

What resources are natural in each part of your world?

How does this affect trade and trade relationships?

TRANSPORTATION

How easy it is to travel within a city and outside of a city? What modes of transportation exist (horse, anti-gravity car, etc.)?

How is information disseminated all over your world (ink and paper, owl, newspaper, messenger)?

BUSINESS

What crafts or trades are highly valued in your world?

Are some professions considered more elite or respectable than others? How so?

How do people advance in their fields? Are there apprenticeships? How easy is social mobility?

What is the normal work schedule for the average person? What is the average income?

PART 7: Politics

GOVERNMENT

What is the form of government? Is it a monarchy? Republic? Empire? Theocracy?

What are the responsibilities of the government? How far does the government’s sphere of influence spread (magic, religion, etc.)?

How is the government perceived? Is it trusted by the people or is there tension?

LAW Justice Systems; War Systems

What is the rule of law in your world? How is law enforced? What are the most important laws?

What are the punishments for breaking the law?

Justice Systems

What is the legal process in your world? How are people tried?

How does magic fit into the legal system? Is it above the law?

War Systems

How is war declared? Is there a formal process that a country must go through in order to engage in war?

What is the command structure of the army?

How big is the army? Is it composed of humans? Non-humans? Both?

Source ⚜ More: Writing Worksheets & Templates Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[cressidagrey]

Dust off your Highest Hopes - Part 2

Summary:

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom. 

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere.

Warnings:

Mention of Rape, Mention of Domestic Violence. It's all in the past, it's non graphic, but Solana is still dealing with it.

Notes:

This was supposed to be a one shot. One day I will find a way to be less wordy.

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the super pretty dividers!)

Contrary to popular belief, Helion Spell-Cleaver, High Lord of the Day Court, was actually quite picky about who he took to bed. 

It probably came as a shock to many, because tales of his virility and pursuits had been spread far and wide…and oftentimes embellished beyond recognition. He didn’t even want to know what the librarians in a few thousand years would make out of him. 

He had his own set of rules for it as well. As often as possible, nobody from his own court, because that never ended well. No female that had the kind of scheming and social climbing mother that would make sure that an accidental pregnancy was going to happen one way or another. If the person he was interested in had a spouse, then only if the spouse was interested as well. (Mostly because he was just not interested in the kind of jealousy-induced displays that could result in.)

And regardless of what many people thought…He did not actually bed a new person each night. Or even each week or each month. 

And there was a reason why he did it in the first place. 

He had the tragic habit of falling for Females that were completely and utterly unavailable to him. 

Amara had been the first. 

His mate. 

Just that by the time the Mating Bond had snapped…Amara had already been the Lady of Autumn. Had already had 6 sons from her High Lord husband. 

If there was something like tragedy, then this had been it. 

They had both known that it was impossible. That there was no chance for them. Not in this world. 

There had only been one night. One stolen night that they had…spent together. One stolen night, where he had kissed her forehead and then let her go. The son he hadn’t known he had, had been the result of that. 

Just a couple of years later…seemingly in the blink of an eyes…Helion’s brother Castor’s Mating Bond had snapped. 

Solana Mousav as she had been then, had been 19, fresh-faced and wide-eyed. So young. So innocent. Not married. No High Lord husband hanging over her head. No. She had stars glittering in her eyes and had stared at his brother in stark adoration. 

Everything Helion had ever wanted…Castor had gotten it. He had gotten this absolute gift of a mating bond to a girl who had loved him from the first time she had seen him. Who had adored him. 

The daughter of one of their father‘s councilmembers, high enough in rank that she could have made an easily accepted wife, even without the Mating Bond. 

Castor had hit the lottery with her. 

And then spent nearly three centuries kicking that gift he had been given with his feet. 

Helion hadn’t been able to stomach watching it. 

Not because of how he treated Solana but because he was unspeakably jealous.

Castor had gotten his mate, his wife, and had never needed to worry about anybody not accepting her or their bond. 

And Helion…Helion didn’t. 

So while his brother stayed near their father, Helion had filled his days with everything but that. They were fresh off a war…they were…he helped rebuild their fighting forces, he researched and he aided and he did everything so that he didn’t need to come home. 

Didn’t need to watch Castor and Solana be gloriously happy. 

Still, he was the recipient of many, many care packages from Solana, filled with sweets and books and the subtle scent of roses and orange blossoms. Small notes from her, impersonal but friendly. 

He had been a fool. He hadn’t even entertained the thought that Castor would lay a hand on her in anger…until he had been home in Odeira, they were supposed to attend a symphony performance that evening and he had walked in on his brother and Solana, his brother’s hand yanking her arm so harshly that he knew that purple bruises would spread over her skin, while his other hand had been groping her chest, her dress ripped apart. 

Her cheeks had been burning with her shame, her eyes downcast when she had realised that he had seen that. 

He would always give himself the fault for not killing Castor then and there.

Helion could have spared Solana another century of pain.

But he hadn’t. He hadn‘t. He had broken Castor‘s arm and threatened him to treat his wife properly. That had been that. 

And in his incredible wisdom, Helion had thought that this would be enough. That Castor would behave himself. Apologise to Solana. Beg on his fucking knees for her forgiveness and never do anything like this again. 

It wasn’t enough. 

He had never asked Solana what price she had paid for his stupidity. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach it. 

And then fucking Amarantha had happened. It had ended with both of his parents dead and him High Lord…

And then Amarantha had killed Castor. Nearly an afterthought. 

Maybe she had thought that Helion would be easier to control than his brother. He hadn’t done anything…Had been unable to do anything in that godforsaken mountain…anything but grasp Solana, and hold her back from trying to save her mate. He had known that that would simply end in Solana's death too. 

And he couldn’t have her die as well. 

Still, Helion would never forget that scream of anguish that broke out of her throat as Castor’s head rolled over the floor towards her. 

Would never forget that feeling of the glamours on her body snapping…as the male that had cast them had died. 

The bruises that had painted her skin for the world to see. 

Layers upon layers of them onto her skin. He had been shocked that she had been able to still walk and talk normally…that nothing had seemed amiss from the surface. 

Only then it had become clear to him, what exactly his brother had spent centuries doing to his mate. 

And what the court had watched and let happen. 

One of the first things he had done…the only thing he still could…was to try and get Solana out from under the mountain as long and as quickly as he could have. It had cost him dearly, but he would have paid every price for it. And so Solana settled back in Odeira, sending him notes about her progress there…always spelt that they would only show up for his eyes, that they would disappear as soon as he had read them, whenever Amarantha had requested his presence under the mountain. 

He had handed her the keys to his Kingdom. And Solana had kept it as safe as she could, cradled in her hands. 

The Day Court owed her a debt for it. Helion owed her for this. 

And so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him. 

Falling for Amara had been immediate, blinding. 

Solana…she had slipped up on him. Slipped up on him, because she had twisted and changed as soon as his brother’s head had rolled over that ground. Slowly, carefully…like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. 

She had been Castor’s widow for a good twenty years and then…one day…she had showed up for breakfast in a light lavender dress. 

No more black that leeched every bit of colour from her tawny skin. Back where the coloured dresses. Gold earrings had decorated her lobes. Sun shaped. Showing everybody where she belonged to. 

And somehow…somehow that had given his feelings permission to flourish like a plant after a decade-long drought. 

Somehow that had made him want her…desperately. 

Solana was…magnificent. 

There was no other word for it. 

The pulsing heart of the Day Court safely ensconced in Sunray Palace. The court that she kept running, regardless of what happened. 

And then Amarantha had died and he had come home for good and she had smiled at him, as she dropped into a picture-perfect curtsy… Welcome Home, High Lord. 

And that had been that. 

Working closer together with her, letting her deal with the expectations of the Court, with the nobles, with the servants, with the palace…

Everything the Lady of the Court did…Solana caught it and did it herself.

 It was just the two of them, every other member of their family dead. 

Just them. 

And she had bitten her teeth into it all, and not let go. He had always been able to trust her. Trust that his court was in the very best of hands…trust that she was loyal to him and nobody else. 

Regardless of what happened…she had taken it all in stride. 

Helion could trust her with anything and be sure that Solana would do everything in her power to make it better. 

She had sat through many of these first few meetings with Lucien after everything had gone down in the Autumn Court…smoothing over the edges for both of them, pushing them together until…

The fact that Lucien and Elain had made their home in the Day Court…he owed that to Solana. To Solana and her sweetness and kindness and her ability to stay flawlessly polite through anything.  She had befriended Elain easily and Lucien appreciated her wit and candor. 

A million and one things she did and somehow Solana did it all with the same easy grace. 

How could any other female even start to compare to that? 

“Good Morning!" Elain pulled him out of his near-daily thoughts that always came to the same conclusion: Regardless of what feelings he had for Solana…she should never find out. 

“Good Morning,” he gave back, just as Elain slapped down a whole stack of leather-bound books next to her plate as Lucien pulled out a chair for her. 

“Accounts?” Helion asked with a nod to the books and Elain nodded. 

“Yes. I am supposed to figure out where to “cut the fat”, so to speak,” Elain said brightly. 

It was a well-thought-out job for the daughter of a merchant. “Ah. Solana?” Helion asked, already knowing the answer and Elain bobbled her head into another nod, a bright smile on her face as Helion poured tea into her cup. 

“Yes, I am having a meeting with the Steward about this later today…” Elain said. “I have some ideas…though I don’t think he’s actually taking me seriously,” she mumbled, faltering into her enthusiasm. 

Helion sighed. “Oh, he’s probably not, but it’s not about you personally,” he assured her. “Most of the servants tend to be… overly protective about Solana.” 

Not that he could fault them for that. Not after Castor. 

Though it had taken on an even worse edge, after that incident they had a year ago that had involved Kallias’ younger brother and Solana’s mother conspiring to try and get Solana married off. Again.  

Helion was still pissed off that he hadn’t gotten to run his sword through Khion’s throat, for the bruises that had painted Solana’s skin once again. 

Still, they couldn’t let that out on Elain. Especially not because he knew that Elain wouldn’t ever do anything to Solana. Had been nothing but respectful of Solana’s place in this court. 

“Have you talked to Solana? Make sure that your orders don’t go against hers.  She wouldn’t care, but the servants will,” Helion advised, as he buttered his bread. “Make sure the two of you are on the same page and they’ll be quicker to accept you.”

“I’ll catch up with her today. She was going to meet with some artisans about new porcelain and I got invited!” Elain said brightly, before growing seriously. “Solana is making this as easy for me as it could be. I really appreciate that.” 

“She’s the best,” Helion said easily. 

She was. There was no question about it. 

And still, the question Lucien posed next made him freeze with his slice of toast suspended midway between his plate and his mouth: “Are you aware that you are in love with her?” 

“What?” Was it that obvious? It shouldn’t be that obvious. He didn’t want Solana to have to deal with even more gossip about herself. That wouldn’t be fair. 

It was his secret to carry…the weight on his shoulders. And he would take it to his grave. She should never find out what he was feeling. 

The toast hit his plate, and his stomach suddenly felt like ash. 

 “Are you still stuck in denial?” Lucien demanded, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Or are you in the *She’s my best friend and she’s the one thing that is keeping this court running and the servants adore her and we attend symphony performances together and we walk in the garden and my Pegasus loves her but it’s all totally platonic*phase?”

Solana was his best friend. Solana was the one that was keeping the Day Court running…The servants did adore her. Helion loved attending symphony performances with her because Solana loved music. And they walked in the garden, her hand in the crook of his elbow and she talked to him about everything and nothing, about all the gossip that she had snapped up and everything she was planning to do in their court and that was…

Meallan adored her, too. As did Clodagh, his mate…and Helion had been on more than one occasion jealous of his bloody Pegasus because he had gotten more attention than him from Solana. 

Still. He hadn’t thought that anybody else…anybody else would pick up on it. Not in a…different way than Helion doting on the only family he had left…on his sister-in-law because that’s what she was, right? She was his brother’s mate, even when Castor was dead. 

But alone to let Castor keep that claim about her…when Helion had seen what he had done to Solana…it was making him furious. 

“Be nice, Lucien,” Elain said pointedly. “We talked about this.” She glared at Lucien, who pointedly looked towards the ceiling in response. 

What?

“You talked about this,” Helion repeated. What?

“Of course, we did,” Elain agreed immediately. “I spent nearly a month thinking Solana was your mistress until Lucien told me otherwise,” she pointed out reasonably. 

Alone these words in connection to Solana made him fucking furious. It wasn’t Elain’s fault, he couldn’t fault her for this. She didn’t know the full story, she didn’t know everything that had gone on in the last…oh, around 300-odd years? 

Still. 

“I would never do that to her,” Helion spat out. “This whole Court has failed her once already. I have failed her once. I will not be part of a second time.”

No. He would rather never have Solana at all than to put her into a position like that…treat her that disrespectfully.

“Is that why the servants are that protective?” Lucien asked him, cocking his head to the side. Even Lucien didn’t know everything. Didn’t know how bad things had been between Castor and Solana…didn’t know about all the bruises that had littered her skin…

And Helion often wondered if the bruises had been everything he had done to her. Somehow Helion doubted it. Somehow Helion thought that it probably had been even worse. 

“They couldn’t protect her against my brother. But they will protect her against any perceived threat on my part,” Helion answered, dark amusement colouring his voice. The servants did everything in their power to make it easier for her. Just as they should. They were overprotective over her, and Helion appreciated that more than he could possibly say. “They’ll choose her over me in a heartbeat. The Day Court needs Solana. I can be replaced. She can’t be.”

If he died, the magic would choose a new High Lord. If Solana died…the carefully oiled wheels that kept the Day Court up and running would collapse, he was sure. 

“You haven’t answered the question,” Lucien pointed out at that moment, mustering him with his eyes…one brown, one golden and mechanical…

It wasn’t even a question. Not really. Not a question that he needed to think about the answer at least. 

“Of course, I am in love with Solana,” Helion said quietly. 

He was very much aware of that.

 He wasn’t in denial. 

“Then why don’t you do anything about it?” Lucien asked him drily. 

“Because I am never going to put Solana into a position where she thinks that she…she is required to return my affections,” he spat out. 

And she would think that. 

If he went to her and he admitted his undying love to her…He knew that Solana was not going to turn him down. For numerous reasons. 

She was her mother’s daughter, she was smart and self-protective enough that she knew exactly how badly it could go for her if she turned down the personal attention of a High Lord. So regardless of what Solana felt for him, alone for that reason, she wasn’t going to turn him down. 

And then add to that the fact that Solana was too sweet and kind for her own good and would probably not want to hurt him by turning him down and so she would agree and suffer in silence so that Helion wasn’t going to be hurt. 

And probably the biggest part of it…Solana had been treated absolutely abhorrently by Helion’s brother. She probably was absolutely terrified that it turned out that he had just as bad a temper as Castor had had. 

Regardless of how he would tell her…all of that would make it impossible for her to make a true decision that wasn’t coloured by fear for herself and her own life. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“She wouldn’t think that!” Elain protested but Helion held up a hand, brokering no argument. 

“Yes, she would,” he agreed. “With her past…that’s exactly what she would think,” he said, his voice turning weak. “And I would rather never have her at all, only have her as a friend, than to have her think even for one moment that I would force her into anything that she doesn’t want.”

Both Elain and Lucien were quiet at that. 

“Solana made her choice centuries ago,” Elain said calmly. “Did you know that you are the reason why she never even entertains the idea of a second husband?  Because then her loyalty would be split between her husband and you and she doesn’t want that. She has admitted that to me,” Elain pointed out carefully.  

“Be that as it may…” he started but Lucien interrupted him. 

“No,” Lucien said drily. “ Look, we just want you to be happy. You and Solana, because she has been nothing but lovely to both of us, ever since we met her. So just talk to her. You two never have a problem to talk to each other. Just talk to her,” Lucien implored. 

He gritted his teeth.  

“Please,” Lucien added pointedly, waiting until Helion looked at him. “Da. Talk to her.”

“You are playing dirty,” Helion pointed out, crossing his arms. Lucien never called him that. But now Lucien was just grinning at him, looking more carefree than Helion had ever seen him.  

“If it’s working, it’s worth it,” he said with a shrug.

“She won’t refuse you,” Elain added. “And not because she doesn’t think she can, but because she loves you too.” 

It was a much-needed vote of confidence because Helion highly doubted it. Solana treated him with the same kindness she reserved for everybody. But she wasn’t in love with him. Right? 

“Can you see the future now?” he asked Elain with a sigh, immediately regretting his words, but she just grinned at him.  

“I am a Seer,” she pointed out.  “Though I do not need any cauldron-given gifts to know that she loves you,” she said with a shrug. “Though…I may had a vision.”

“What kind of vision?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

“A vision that only could come true if you talk to her,” Elain said easily. “And next Summer Solstice could be quite interesting.”

Summer Solstice was two months off. 

It was making him wonder…making him wonder what exactly Elain had seen. 

Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, was marked with a…renewal ritual. 

Sex. It was marked with a Sex ritual. 

The Spring Court had Calamai…the Day Court had Summer Solstice. 

He swallowed. If Elain had seen something about Summer Solstice that had involved him and Solana…

“I’ll talk to her,” he promised, even when alone the thought of that was making him shake with nerves. Later. 

After he had spent a good hour or so petting Meallan and telling him all about his plight. Why where Pegasi easier than people? 

(Probably because regardless of how often Meallan stared at him like Helion was an idiot, he never outright said that.) 

So if he blew off a meeting he was supposed to be having and instead handed it off to his second in command…nobody needed to know. 

Well, Solana would know. Solana would find out and would be annoyed at him, and it would amuse him and then she would get even more annoyed. Her dark brown curls had the charming habit of wildly standing off her head the more annoyed she got. 

Sometimes he did it on purpose just because of that. 

He made his way up the tower towards the Pegasi stable, trying to gather his thoughts. Though he did make a quick detour to the kitchen to procure some fresh carrots for Meallan and Clodagh. 

He was not above some well-meant bribery if that meant that Clodagh was going to let him near enough to her that he could check on her foal.

To his surprise, he found a whole gaggle of long-suffering grooms in front of Meallan and Clodagh’s pen. 

“High Lord!” One of them squeaked out and Helion raised an eyebrow in amusement before he suddenly realised what exactly had brought them there: A near opaque, golden shimmery film that covered the door to their pen. 

He immediately recognised the handiwork. 

In another world, Helion thought, Solana could have been brilliant at Spell-Crafting. 

In this one, it was a hobby for her of sorts. Something she dabbled in…nothing that even she took seriously. Little practical little spells that made the life of the servants in the Sunray Palace easier. 

Until it was…this.

He swallowed. 

He knew what it was…Solana had laid it months ago. A promise to Clodagh that whenever her foal was going to be born, nobody would bother her unless it was Helion and Solana. 

It was the work of a moment for him to lay a hand on the door and have the film subside, much to the awed gasp of one groom.

Easy enough to push open that door, step inside and then…

He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected. It probably wasn’t Meallan’s teeth coming precariously close to his chest as the stallion grabbed his shirt and then tugged him forward hurriedly. 

Only then…only then he saw Clodagh laying in the straw, a tiny perfect black foal next to her…and right there nestled between them, Solana, who was crying her eyes out like somebody had just died. 

Meallan fixed him with a look. Fix this. NOW. He seemed to demand before he headbutted Helion in their direction with a glare. 

He had never seen her cry like that before. Not even when Castor had died. Even when her husband had died, Solana had somehow managed to pull herself together into some resemblance of order. 

There was nothing orderly about her now. Her hair was in complete disarray, the dress she wore was covered in straw and her face was red and splotchy, thanks to the crying fit she had been having. 

A crying fit for which he didn’t know the reason. 

The situation must have truly been dire if it had brought Solana to tears like that. 

“Solana?” he said softly, making her aware of his presence as he carefully kneeled down next to her. Clodagh was mustering him sternly, like clearly all of this was his fault and was still nuzzling Solana, who just clung tighter to the white mare.  “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Helion asked, using his pet name for her. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she whimpered, burying her face against Clodagh’s neck. 

“Then why are you crying?” Helion gave back gently, reaching out to draw a hand down her back. He could feel every single vertebra of her spine, the shudder that worked its way through her body with every sob…the heat of her body through the thin layer of silk. 

“I am sorry,” she sobbed and he couldn’t help but flinch. 

“Gods, Solana, you don’t need to apologise,” he said hoarsely. For what could she possibly apologise? She had done nothing. Absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing but everything he needed, his court needed. “Tell me what happened?” he requested again, gently rubbing her back, desperation bleeding into his voice. “We’ll make it right,” he promised her fiercely.   “It’s us. We can make everything right.”

“I…” she tried to bring out the words, but another sob took over her frame. 

He shushed her softly. “It’s alright,” he soothed her. “Take your time. What’s wrong, sunshine?”

“I heard you.”

[goldenwitherphoenix13]

(Sighs) no one asked for it, but Im gonna share it anyways because no ones asked for it and i want to put an end to this Canary curse debockal.

Here is my interpretation of Canary Jimmy in the life series, the canary curse and why i think the fandom has flanderised it. Its extensive, its repetitive, its probably inaccurate, but I want to both clear up confusion on what the curse is and then share my own interpretation. Spoilers below for today's session of Wild Life, if only brief.

The Canary in the coalmine is all about how when the Canary starts to go quiet or die, that there is danger about. There is poison in the air. That if the coal miners do not evacuate, then they will die.

And when Jimmy was seen bringing death wherever he went, or being out first in the first 4 seasons of the life series, people started to dub him as "the canary" and say he was cursed with "the canary curse". But I think the Canary curse has lost its meaning by now. Its been so consumed by the idea of it just being about Jimmy dying first that I think that we all forgot that it's first ever mention was during Scar, Grian and Joel's series, 100 hours in hardcore minecraft, was not solely about him dying first.

Let's recap.

Part way through the 100 hours series, Scar had to go and get some major surgery done, so he couldn't play on the server for a while. So, while Scar was away, Grian and Joel invited some other friends on to fill the void as they waited for their friend to return. The first friend they invited of was Jimmy and they decided to go to a woodland mansion where this resulted in Grian dying.

This event had happened not too long after the finale of Empires season 1, Where Jimmy (and Fwhip) had just accidentally destroyed the entire server, plunging all the kingdoms into a multitude of disasters and starting the event known as the rapture.

And, remember, this series occurred just after Last life, the second season of the life's series, had ended, where Jimmy had been out the series first twice.

It was ALL of these events that lead to the creation of the fandom dubbing Jimmy as a canary. And the Canary curse was born.

Jimmy then proceeded to die first for 2 more seasons of the life series. And that is when the canary became canon as multiple people started referring to Jimmy being cursed, including Jimmy himself, and Martyn wrote it into his lore. It's also where alot of the fans started to associate the curse with just the life series, not really remembering its connections other series.

Back to present day. Jimmy has now gone 2 seasons of the life series and an April fools special without dying first, which is amazing! I'm very proud of him for that! But the fandom feels divided on this, half of them saying him not dying first has broken the curse and now it can't be used as a headcanon anymore, and the other half saying how him breaking it is temporary or that it's only out the first stage and now he's doomed to die second. And to all of you I say... no. No it hasn't ruined the canary hybrid headcanons, no it hadn't been taken to stage 2, the canary curse was NEVER JUST about Jimmy dying first, because it was never just about the life series. The original canary comparisons mentioned Empires and 100 hours, and he never permadied first in either of those series.

Let's go back to the idiom. Canary in a coal mine.

This idiom is based of of a real life practice of taking living, breathing canaries into the coal mines. Coal miners wanted to keep down the costs of having to breed and buy new canaries every time one died, and didnt want to always leave the cute birds that kept them company to die. Its like just using a pet as death foder. They wanted to keep these birds alive for the sake of keeping costs lower and for not killing of the adorable birds. So what would they do? They made chambers to keep the birds alive after they passed out. Oxygen tanks or medicine chambers basically. The canaries didn't always die in the coal mines. They sometimes just got very sick to the point of fainting and passing out, but they could be saved. The canaries don't always need to die to be a warning. They just needed to go quiet. Coming close to death and being kept alive is still a functionable canary system.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Jimmy isn't cursed as a canary to die first out of everyone. That was never the case. To me, the canary curse has always been about one thing.

The chaos after the canary falls silent. Not after it dies. After it falls silent, after it comes close to death. The curse was never for him. It was a curse on EVERYONE. And Jimmy turning red is enough to trigger it. Jimmy being close to death but not dead yet is enough to trigger the chaos. Jimmy is a canary. His curse was never to die, his curse was never even truly a curse. It was a warning that the games were in danger of ending. That the chaos had only just begun.

And do you know what the cherry on top of all of this is?

The Canary doesn't need to die at all for the coal miners to die.

There are many, many, many ways for coal miners to die in the coal mines. A cave in could crush them, they could find a massive cave that they could fall into, they could turn on and attack eachother. But the Canary can be spared. The Canary may die eventually. Gases or hunger or predators may find it. But it could be the last one to go when the circumstances line up.

It's why I still believe in Canary Jimmy, and why I think he can still win a life series simultaneously. Because it doesn't matter what place he comes at, the canary curse will always trigger. It was never about how Jimmy was "so bad at the game" that he died first. It was never about how the watchers kill him every season because its funny. It was about the death and destruction that hovered around him. The doomsday that chaos brings.

And do you know what's even better? Jimmy is completely unaware of this purpose. He thinks the curse was him dying first because that's what the fans made it out to be.

Jimmy broke this unlucky death streak, but he did not break the canary curse.

Because the canary curse was never JUST for him. It is EVERYONES problem.

Tldr; the canary curse has lost its original meaning and been flanderised to the point of people forgetting that its origins don't require Jimmy to die first and it doesnt need to end in tragedy. The Canary curse is just everyone's problem, including Jimmy, but also including everyone else, and no one has realised this yet. Not even Jimmy. They just think his curse is him dying. But he doesn't even need to die to let the "curse" activate. His presence is more than enough, and even with it he can still win. He's just gotta find the right time.

Anyway I'm done rambling, I hope you guys enjoy my thoughts, I'm going to go finish my Uni Presentation and Evaluations of my project!

[crepes-suzette-373]

Not having "Emotions" 感情 or "Emotions" 情: Germa 66/Vinsmokes

[part 2][part 3]

Analysing the 3 Vinsmoke boys, because Oda-sensei should know that things like disgust or anger are also "emotions", and Ichiji/Niji/Yonji all have displayed "emotions". Negative ones, but emotions all the same. So there might be something else going on.

In the raw, there is actually a difference in the exact words that they say the boys don't/shouldn't have. I feel that this is might be important, because that's the way kanji is. The nuance of the word usage can be different depending on the context.

When the Germa scientists say that Sanji should not have "emotions", the word they use is「感情」, which does mean all emotions for the most part (including things like anger, joy, etc).

However, Sora says don't take their "heart" 心 away. When you say someone is heartless, it doesn't mean that they have no "emotions", but they have no "pity" or "compassion".

Reiju also says that what is removed from them is just「情」, not 「感情」. 情 is emotion, but also specifically have the connotation of empathy, sympathy and compassion.

The same word when she says she "still has it" in contrast to the boys:

And lastly, from Sanji himself, calling his brothers "monsters with no blood or tears" 血も涙もない. This idiom means the same as "heartless" or "cold-blooded", meaning no mercy, no sympathy, no pity, no compassion. It does not mean "absolutely zero emotions", unless additional context specifies so.

My conclusion is that either Oda-sensei has been playing word games, or there's a slip-up in translation. The boys seems to actually do have emotions. What they don't have are empathy, sympathy, conscience, and fear. Just look at them casually throwing themselves off the roof, and laughing off their potential deaths.

The reason why they act so cruel might be because they have no innate conscience, so they just parrot and follow whatever Judge told them.

And, since Reiju said she was reprogrammed to always obey, I suspect there's a little bit of that in the other boys too. See Niji, freeze-stopping his kick mid-air because Judge says no:

(the force of it was so strong that Cossette, behind Sanji, was blown away)

What they do to Sanji is really horrible, but little kids brawl and beat up each other all the time. It's the adults who have to teach them "don't do that". Without anyone telling them no, and Judge even permitting it, of course Ichiji and the others act the way that they do.

I think there is the possibility that the boys might still have the ability to feel genuine affection inside them (since, you know, having affection for someone is honestly nothing to do with compassion or mercy). They just might not know what that feeling is, because they've never been taught to understand that.

There's Niji and Yonji being worried when Reiju and Judge were hit:

And the whole "Emotionless Excursion" cover story sideplot.

This is why I say Ichiji and Niji are acting like particularly evil tsundere dumbasses. For all their horrible comments, they're clearly capable of feeling concern. Ichiji less obviously so than Niji, but same difference.

We'll wait and see, I guess, what exactly is the extent of the 情 that is missing from those three.

[a-pop-of-korean]

One-Page Masterlist

안녕하세요! Hey everyone! I recently got an ask about my old masterlist, which is the same as my broken-down masterlist except it has all of my lessons on one page, rather than on multiple separate posts. Some may find this expanded version easier to navigate, so I’ll keep this up for y’all! My broken-up masterlist, of course, will still be available for those who find that more helpful :)

Hangul Lessons

Consonants

Vowels

Writing/Reading Korean Syllables

Some 받침 Rules

Diphthongs

Stroke Order

Some More 받침 Rules

Irregular Verbs

The Basics

Common Phrases

Numbers

Sino-Korean vs. Native Korean Numbers (Instagram Post)

Sentence Structure and Particles

Present-Tense Conjugations and Formal Language

Adjectives

Questions

Honorifics and Casual Language

Beginner

Negative Sentences

잘 and 못

Past Tense

Future Tense (-ㄹ / 을 것이다)

-ㄹ / 을 까요? (Shall we…? / I wonder…?)

-(으)세요 (Giving Commands / Asking Questions)

Telling Time

-고 싶다 (I want to…)

How to Say “And”

-지만 (However)

아/어/여서 (So…)

Negative Commands

Spacing (띄어쓰기)

Adverbs

ㅂ Irregular

Comparatives and Superlatives

난, 날, & 내가

Upper-Beginner

 -(으)면 (If…)

아/어/여도 (Even though…/Even if…)

(으)면 되다 / 아/어/여도 되다 (I can…/You may…)

-아/어도 되다: Asking for and Giving Permission (Instagram post)

-(으)면 되다 & -(으)면 안 되다 (Instagram post)

아/어/여야 되다 and 아/어/여야 하다(Have to / Should)

Present Progressive (-고 있다)

How to Say “Or”

-아/어/여하다

All About 중

How to Use -(으)로

Before & After

-ㄴ/은 채로

Intermediate

Describing Nouns with Verbs (-는 것)

Describing Nouns with Verbs - Past & Future Tense (-ㄴ/은 / -ㄹ/을 것)

Nominalization

것 같다 (I think… / It seems…)

-러 가다 / -러 오다

-(으)려고 (In order to…)

-기로 하다 (to Decide to do Smth)

척하다 (To Pretend)

-게 되다 

-군요 / -구나

아/어/여 보다 (to try…)

-은/ㄴ 적 있다 / 없다 (I have / have not)

-ㄹ/을 게요 (Future Tense)

겠다 

-ㄹ/을 수 있다/없다 (I can / cannot)

-ㄹ/을 때 (When…)

-ㄴ/는다면 (If)

-(으)면서 and -(으)며

-(으)니까 (Because / So)

-아/어/여주다

-(ㄴ/는)다 (Narrative Form)

Quoting

Let’s…

Quoting continued

(으)ㄹ래요? (Wanna…?)

-죠

-대로

More Quoting - 대 & 래

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다 

-아/어 가지고

-(으)려면

-는 길에 & -는 길이다

-(으)면 vs. -ㄴ/는다면 (Instagram Post)

-았/었을 것이다

-느라고

-는 데(에)

-ㄹ/을 뻔하다

Upper-Intermediate

-ㄴ/는데

-(으)ㄴ/는지 (Whether or not)

-(이)라는…

All About 아무리

-잖아요

Expressing Surprise

-시 (Honorific)

Making Comparisons

-아/어/여지다

I might…

So that…/To the point where…

Causative Verbs

시키다

Passive Verbs (part 1)

Passive Verbs (part 2)

-ㄴ/은가 보다 & -나 보다 (I guess…)

-ㄹ/을수록

Other Meanings of 싶다

-자마자 & -는 대로(As soon as…)

-긴 하다

-치고

-김에

차라리 (Rather)

-(으)ㅁ Nominalization

-기는 무슨 & -기는 개뿔

-고 보니까

-듯(이)

버리다

-(으)면 좋겠다 & -(으)면 하다

-길 바라다

Advanced

-거든(요)

-줄 알다/모르다

-ㄹ/을 테니까 and -ㄹ/을 텐데

-았/었던

아니라 and 대신에

-ㄹ/을 리가 없다

편이다, 별로, and More

-지 그렇다 (Why don’t you…?)

-ㄹ/을 걸

-ㄹ/을 까 보다

-다면서요

-다니 part 1 

-다니 part 2

뜻이다 & 말이다

-다가

-더라고(요)

-더니

Some colloquialisms: 아니시에이팅 and 뭐 이렇게

-(으)ㅁ Sentence Ending

 -다 보니까

What does 따위 mean?

-ㄴ/는데도

Korean Idioms

Vocabulary

Must-Know People

Must-Know Places

Must-Know Things

Must-Know Verbs

Must-Know Adjectives

Countries

Months, Days of the Week, and More

Clothing (옷)

School (학교)

Autumn (가을)

Autumn (w/Pictures!)

More Questions

House / Apartment (집 / 아파트)

Emotions / Feelings ( 감정)

Animals (동물)

Loan / Konglish Words

Food and Drink (먹을 것과 마실 것)

Parts of the Body (몸)

Counters

Modes of Transportation (교통 수단)

Colors (색깔)

Colors (with Pictures!)

Weather (날씨)

Winter (겨울)

Music & Instruments (음악과 악기)

Baking Gingerbread Cookies

Emergency (비상)

Hygiene & Bathroom (위생 & 화장실)

Indefinite Pronouns

Work / Office (일 / 사무실)

Spring (봄)

Coronavirus Prevention (코로나바이러스 방역)

How to Wash Your Hands (손을 씻기)

Time (시간)

Korean Cuisine (한식)

Summer (여름)

Summer (여름) w/Pictures!

Graduation (졸업)

Identity (독자성)

Korean Text Slang

Similar Words

Makeup w/Pictures! (화장품)

Family (with Pictures!)

Pronouns

How to Say “Still” and “Already” in Korean

Tastes & Textures (맛과 질감)

K-Pop Audition

K-Pop Fandom Terminology

Different Ways to Say “Change”

Flower Names

What Does 원래 Mean?

What does 오히려 Mean?

College

Hanja Lessons

최

수

악

식

급

동

부 & 불

애

출

퇴

예

음

중

학

습

연

생

대

입

인

문

감

과 

원

특 

만

후 

무

Charts

Present, Past, and Future Tense

Question Words

잘 vs. 못 and Negative Conjugations 

Future Tenses 

-았/었던 vs. -던 (at end of lesson)

Particles

Some 받침 Rules

Gifving Commands

Conjunctions and -아/어/여서 vs. -(으)니까

-(으)면 vs. -다/라면 and Different Ways to Say “And”

How to Say “Or” (at end of lesson)

Telling Time (at end of lesson)

Comparatives and Superlatives

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다 (at end of lesson)

Comparing 잘하다/못하다, 잘 하다/못 하다, & 수 있다/수 없다

Irregular Verbs

Pop Quizzes

Level 1

K-Pop Breakdowns

TXT - “Cat & Dog”

Twice - “Feel Special”

Enhypen - “Fever”

2NE1 - “Go Away”

Lee Hi - “Only”

“기억을 걷는 시간 (Time Spent Walking Through Memories)”

KCM - “An Old Love Story (흑백사진)”

Taeyeon - “Can’t Control Myself”

Epik High - “Lost One”

Colde - “A Song Nobody Knows”

IU - “My Sea”

Enhypen - “Polaroid Love”

유라 (youra) - “하양 (RAL 9002)″

BTS - “Ddaeng”

Stray Kids - “For You”

Woozie - “어떤 미래 (What Kind of Future)

TXT - “Eternally”

LOONA - “Heart Attack”

Stray Kids - “Muddy Water”

LOONA - “Girl Front”

Pentagon - “Daisy”

BTS - “Sea”

Semester in SK

Nami Island (남이섬)

Things to Buy at Daiso

Shopping Phrases

Ordering Coffee

Signs in Korea

Ordering at a Restaurant

Riding the Seoul Subway

Things at the 편의점

Korean Curse Words

Etiquette in South Korea

Drinking Culture

Hanja in Real Life

Holidays in South Korea

Korean Cuisine

Concert Ticketing in South Korea

K-pop Comebacks in Korea

Summer in South Korea

What I Learned

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 2 : For the World to See

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warning : Morally Grey Characters , Swearing

A/N : Buckle up , folks! This one’s smth else.

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Masterlist Next >

Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

All are fair in love and war. An overused idiom, but one that you believed was necessary for the actions you were about to do. You knew that it was wrong to use Max to get back on Lewis. But you were not perfect, far from it.

Not when your vision had clouded red as you looked at the picture that flashed on your phone’s screen. It was a photo of Lewis kissing another girl in a bar. It hasn’t been a month since your split with Lewis and he had the fucking audacity to pull this shit.

What’s worse is that over in that same month, Lewis had been trying to reach out and kept saying that he was sorry and that he’d change. Gifts and flowers kept appearing and delivered to your new apartment with written notes from Lewis. For some time, you considered taking the British driver back.

You even became guilty for the fact that your relationship with Max was developing into something more.

Now, you were glad that you started talking to the Dutch Red Bull Driver. It didn’t hurt that you found Max extremely attractive and desirable.

You couldn’t help it , the Dutch driver was aggressive and a menace on track, but when the helmet went off — he was the sweetest and the most caring partner a girl could ask for. The Max you’ve gotten to know, even for a short period was the perfect distraction.

It all started after you left your apartment with Lewis you went straight to Milton Keynes to meet with Christian Horner , where you bumped into Max.

He was doing a routine check-up, just to ensure that he was perfectly ok after the crash at Silverstone.

You felt partly at fault for his crash and guilt had driven you to apologize even if it wasn’t your actual doing. Max had laughed it off and jokingly said that he’d forgive you if you went out for coffee with him. And to your surprise, you found yourself agreeing.

The coffee went great, and your conversation with Max was easy. His humor was dry, yet you find yourself laughing and enjoying your time with the Dutch Driver.

“I watched Christian Horner, waiting for you to come out of Mercedes and act like he didn’t expect you when you bumped into him” Max exaggerated.

“Mhmm… your team principal would turn stalker mode just to tell me that I did a good job “ You laughed as you rolled your eyes at the handsome driver.

“I swear, Y/N. Checo and I were passing by and Christian was crouched down behind a bush! “

Max bluffed. Making you double over laughing.

Your coffee with Max then turned to lunch and lunch turned into dinner. Then that turned into traveling to Monaco in his private jet to attend the party for the drivers and team principals.

The speed of the development of your relationship with Max was starting to scare you. You and Lewis just broke up , you didn’t want to take advantage of Max’s affection for you.

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your makeup was exquisite and your hair was perfectly done. The dress that Max bought for you fits like a glove. You looked perfect. But you couldn’t help but feel the pit in your stomach grow.

You knew that you would be facing Lewis and Toto at some point tonight and honestly you weren’t sure that you were ready just yet.

But You didn’t want them to see you as weak and helpless . If they could move on easily then you’ll play along. You’ll beat them at their own game.

With a final swipe of lipstick. You were ready

“Max?” You called out to the room

“Am in the living room” Max replied

You walked out of the bathroom and headed your way towards Max. Your Louboutin heels clicked with every step on the marble floor.

As you neared the Dutch Driver. His head turns towards you and his eyes widen as they travel your form, repeatedly.

Max made his way towards you. You were both silent. Max took your hand and he brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist — your eye contact never breaking.

“Gorgeous, you look absolutely beautiful” Max uttered spinning you slowly.

“Thank you. You look handsome Max” You said a bit breathless. Handsome was an understatement, Max looked like a Greek god. Not many times do people see him outside RedBull uniforms, but when they do, people gawk at the driver — you were no exception.

“I love you in black, have I told you that?” You said as you slid your hands up Max’s chest feeling every muscle on your path.

“Mhm, you have. Have you noticed that I’ve been wearing just that recently?” Max countered as he pulled you closer by the waist.

“ I have, and I never did thank you. And I’m sure that your fans thank you too.” You winked at the Red Bull driver, making him chuckle and roll his eyes

“The thirst traps are everywhere, don’t remind me” At that you couldn’t help but laugh as you had sent him some links.

“ Toughen up, you’ll be getting more when you’re World Champion”

“When, not If? you’re that confident in me?” Max grip strengthened without him noticing. You knew that he had issues believing in himself. And you knew who was the reason for that.

“Yes, When. Your potential is unlike any other Max! I believe that you will be breaking records and earning championships left and right one day. “ You truly believed what you said. You felt Max kiss your temple as he whispered “Thank you, Y/N.”

Max was never the speaking kind when it came to emotions. So his opening up even a little was an enormous step.

What did that mean for your blurry relationship? You didn’t know. But it was a step somewhere for sure.

“Now come on! We’re already late.” You tugged on Max’s hand towards the door of his suite.

***

Arriving at the venue, your nerves had finally set in and you were starting to feel a little anxious.

“Hey, are you alright? We can ditch the party if you don’t feel like it” Max whispered to you concerned.

You have never been used to being in fancy balls all glammed up, even in your time with Mercedes and Lewis being your boyfriend. Being that your relationship was kept a secret, you have never joined Lewis to the Galas and Balls.

But now, Max Verstappen was guiding you towards the entrance with pride — not shying away from the cameras and the people who greeted us. He was proud to show you off.

“No, no. Just a bit apprehensive seeing Toto, that’s all” you said back

“Oh! Are you nervous that when you see him you’ll shred him to pieces? Got it” Max tried to joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as you affectionately hit his chest lightly.

“Exactly that! You do get me, Max Emilian Verstappen” You joked back, feeling thankful for Max.

“But really, don’t be scared. I’m here and I promise to protect you. No matter what”

You gazed up at the Dutch driver with so much emotion.

“Thank you, Max” Now it was your turn to say thank you.

You and Max had led yourselves toward the drivers of Ferrari

“Max! You’re finally here!” Charles exclaimed not fully realizing that you were there. His eyes lingered on you as if he was trying to know who you were.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to realize. Max was amused, while Carlos had finally figured out who you were.

“Y/N??” The monegasque driver gasped

“Took you long enough, Charles” You smiled at the Ferrari driver, while Max and Carlos had their conversation.

You and Charles weren’t that close but you two were friends, because of Seb. While you and Seb were close to a certain degree — you had been there during his battle with Lewis and you just naturally formed a friendship around that.

“I haven’t been seeing you in Mercedes. Is everything all right?” Charles asked.

“The NDA stops me from saying anything. But all I can say is that I’m happy that I left” You explained to Charles with a dry chuckle.

And forever the gossiper, Charles could not help but ask

“So is it true? You’re moving to Red Bull?”

“Well ~ you need to find out for yourself eh?” You winked at the Monaco-born driver. You have grown thirsty so you went to get something to drink.

Max looked like he was in deep conversation still with Carlos, so you just went your way.

As you ventured your way towards the refreshments, you were stopped by heathen himself, The boss that tried to screw you over.

Toto fucking Wolff.

Your feeling of anxiety had turned to hatred and anger in an instant. Maybe Max was right with you ripping the Mercedes Principal to shreds.

“ It’s a surprise to see you here, Y/L. Did Red Bull send you an invitation? “ Toto said with hidden condescension.

You chuckled at the audacity. He was once again trying to belittle you.

“ I find that hard to believe, considering that you monitor my every step. Heard about Red Bull huh? Keeping tabs on me Wolff? Scared to lose? ” You mockingly tutted the principal.

“Why would I even do that? Mercedes is better without you! Good fucking riddance . We will win this Championship without you!“ Toto rebutted, the anger in his face was rising.

“Mhmm, sure. Now say that again , this time like you actually believe it” you said so patronizingly with the sweetest, tooth-rotting smile you could muster.

“FUCK YOU!” Bingo! Toto fucking Wolff had reached his limits. And for the first time, you enjoyed every last bit.

But you were nowhere near finished.

“Aww, thanks! Fuck you too. But please do tell me, Toto, just how much money did you lose when investors started pulling out when I left?” The sweet smile on your lips turned menacing

You were in the hell hole of Mercedes for 6 years, you knew their sore spots like it’s the back of your hand. And money was one of them.

“ You know Torger, one might ask, if you say your specialty is managing a business and you’re losing money now. Would that mean that your existence in Mercedes is fucking useless?” You asked with faux interest, a finger underneath your chin as a Cheshire grin spread across your face.

You could see the red rising in the Mercedes Principal’s Face and any minute now he would explode in rage.

“Oh! And also, how’s next year’s car going for you?” And you did just that. You broke Toto fucking Wolff in front of everyone.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! HOW DARE YOU? I SWEAR I’LL KI—“ Toto had started to close the distance between the two of you with his fist inbound.

But before he could land a blow at you, He was forcefully pulled at the collar and restrained with an arm twisted to his back.

And it was all done by Max Verstappen. He had been watching you the entire time and he believed that you could hold your own. He knew that you could fight your own battles. But even then Max knew when to step up and save you from getting hurt.

However, no matter how much Max tried to protect you, he was still one person. He could prevent Lewis Hamilton from dragging you somewhere where no one was to see.

“What the fuck Y/N?? What even was that?!” Lewis bombarded you with questions. His grip on your wrist proved to be painful by the second

“Fucking let go of me, Lewis!” You yanked your hand away from him.

“What are you even doing here with Verstappen?! Seriously Y/N?? Crashstappen? Out of everyone you chose the enemy? We just broke up and now you’re all over him?” Lewis said so venomously, and with so much disgust that would’ve probably hurt you if anger didn’t consume your system

“You’re the one to talk Lewis!! You’re the first one to fucking dip your dick into another girl! You don’t have the right to judge me! “

“So is this how it is, Y/N? YOU'RE CHOOSING HIM OVER ME?!” Lewis went hysterical and you were just the same and neither of you cared if anyone were to hear you.

“You know what Lewis?! Yes, I’m choosing Max over you! Because, unlike you, He makes do with his promises and he isn’t embarrassed to call me his!”

You stormed out on Lewis. Tears were rolling down your face — you were not sad no, you were angry and frustrated about everything about your past from Mercedes to Lewis Hamilton.

You found yourself inside the lady's room, walking back and forth. You looked at yourself in the mirror and mascara had run down your cheeks. You have tried to wipe it when you heard a voice from outside.

“Y/N? Are you ok in there? Can we talk? ” Max knocks from the other side of the bathroom door. His voice held concern and panic

You slowly opened the door, facing the Dutch driver who was clad in an expensive Italian suit, perfectly tailored for his form.

“Max … before anything happens. I need to tell you something about Lewis and me” You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Your sights on the shoes that you chose for him.

Your eyes shift upward, as you feel Max’s finger on your chin lifting your face up

“Y/N, I know. And I don’t care” Shock was evident in your face. You thought that your relationship with Lewis was undiscovered. But all this time Max knew

“M-max, I'm so sorry. I swear, I’m not using you as a rebound” You tried to explain yourself. You expected Max to be angry and you left.

But to your surprise, Max‘s hands found their way to your waist pulling you closer. And the words that left his mouth next left you speechless.

“ I don’t care Y/N. As long as I have you by my side, do whatever you want — I’m yours. Use me”

***

“You’ve sent the pictures of Hamilton to her number?”

“Yes , Sir. Verstappen. It’s accomplished.”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @minkyungseokie @d3kstar @kimialaia @cosmicwintr @younxii @ssrcsm @paigem00 @seokjinkismet @wcnorris @jayjay11122 @embersparklz @sam-is-lost @peterholland04 @luckyladycreator2 @lovemesomeescapism @yettobedetermined7 @nikfigueiredo @ironmaiden1313 @alliwantisadonut @uuoozzii @marshmummy @kemillyfreitas @yaesflorist @zoeyjadetice2010 @splaterparty0-0 @likedbygaslyy @myinternettlifeimagine @ilamara @pluviophilefangirl @starssfall @haydensith @adoreleeknw @leilanixx @dr4g0ngirl @forfeityourbugs @choisannyreads @justtprachisblog @felicityforyou

[dedalvs]

Just saw the Dune: Part 2. What do you think of the empire and fremen languages seen on screen?

I wish they would have let us do something ourselves for the Harkonnens (we could've created a badass Harkonnen language), but we certainly can't complain, given how much screen time our Fremen language got. We translated and delivered over 500 lines of dialogue for Dune: Part Two, and MOST of it ended up on screen. That is absolutely astonishing for a film. I invite you to go through the dialogue for previous films I've worked on—including Dune: Part One—and add up all the lines we've translated, and then see how much of it ended up on screen:

There's more Castithan in Defiance than language work in all the other movies I've worked on combined. For films, in general, they ask for little and use less, and err on the side of not subtitling where possible. Dune: Part Two is extraordinary in the amount of conlang dialogue that actually appears on screen. The only thing to compare it to, honestly, is Avatar (the first one, not the second, where they decided everyone should just speak English most of the time, which is lame).

So, yeah, Jessie and I were very pleased.

Oh, and by the way, those who follow my Tumblr may remember how disappointed we were that only I was credited on Pixar's Elemental, despite the fact that my wife Jessie and I worked together to create that language. Not so with Dune: Part Two! We are both credited. Furthermore, they really treated us right—especially Jessie, as she didn't work on the first film with me. I'd understand if they were a bit hesitant, given the fact she wasn't there for part one, but they welcomed her, treated her as part of the team, credited us both, and even credited her as Jessie Peterson, despite the fact that she hadn't yet changed her name (we were engaged but not married when the credit roll was locked).

And, let me tell you, Jessie was responsible for most of the brilliant semantic work that went into translation for this second film. We've done a lot of press of late, and we often get asked what are interesting words/idioms we've come up with, and every time we find one, invariably, it was Jessie who came up with it. I may have come up with the flesh and bones of Chakobsa, but Jessie gave it the heart that pumps its blood.

[stormysprite]

The Chain as Weird Things I’ve Done, Part 2

I had a great time making the last one of these, so ….. enjoy?

Time: separate ongoing blood feuds with salamander- and squirrel-kind

Warriors: family has an entire dialect/language/borderline cockney consisting of pieces from at least 8 languages including ASL, gestures, inside joke idioms, critter noises, body language, and sounds for the thing(s) we’re referring to

Twilight: wrestled a 7-foot boa constrictor and won (to be fair, the boa wasn’t trying that hard)

Sky: skipped by a bully—while wearing a Halloween costume—and said at full volume, “what’s UP, bUtterCUP”

Legend: runs on ibuprofen and spite DETERMINATION

Wild: used random pieces of household appliances to go sledding

Hyrule: tries to convince friends that west virginia is a myth

Four: meditated with headphones playing baby shark on repeat

Wind: chants “cheat cheat cheat” whenever someone plays a game nearby

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

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