#Just trying to get a better idea of what's stirring a majority of interest in this au.

[chiscribbs]

I'm working on getting responses finished and posts edited, so how about a little poll in the meantime? If you've been following GA: The Contest Chronicles...

[sophieinwonderland]

look a lot of us dont even think "proselytizing bad". We think "proselytizing dangerous to vulnerable people" and we think you are not well equipped to handle it in a nuanced manner when youre so god damn self righteous about it. you are talking to a community of vulnerable people and whether you want to admit it or not you are casting too wide of a net to hide behind "well it's a neutral action!" you Have to understand that using that kind of language is going to Accidentally do what anti-endos think you're trying to do on purpose: pull someone into tulpamancy that might actually seriously get hurt by it or needs some other kind of help

and like, i can only assume this isnt your intention, and yeah you can't control everything that happens to everyone. but idk it seems like youre just being intentionally dense about this specific issue. ofc proselytizing is neutral, like everything else in life. but the way youre doing it is like blind firing from the hip in a community half shared with people who have severe problems with dissociation.

your refusal to budge on this has honestly finally made me unable to agree with you on this one. it really looks like youre more interested in winning an arbitrary argument rather than face the fact that "Join The Plural Cult~" isnt even the kind of activism we need or want. Like the fuck is that even gonna do. Do you think it's a sheer numbers game and once we outnumber singlets/medical systems We Win or something. I thought the future is plural Didnt literally mean "make more plurals"

like at this point youre stirring the pot, on one website, for fun basically, right? like, doing a bit of trolling? it's just that it's pissing off like, way more than just antis and neutrals now

The post that started this wasn't even supposed to target anti-endos.

It was a hypothetical asking how conservative Christians would feel if we started using the same tactics they do. The funny thing about the post that started this was that it was really them that I was trying to piss off.

Or at least... experiment with. See what happens if I introduce the fear of tulpamancers planting tulpas in the heads of some conservatives. How would they react?

Sadly, none were biters.

While I wasn't serious about it though, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a topic I've considered a lot. Both the negatives and the positives.

Do you think it's a sheer numbers game and once we outnumber singlets/medical systems We Win or something. I thought the future is plural Didnt literally mean "make more plurals"

Yes. Of course it's a numbers game. If you live in a Democracy, then numbers matter. Whether it's the actual numbers of plurals or just allies, having a majority is going to be important, eventually. I don't expect a majority of people to make tulpas, but it is true that the more people who do, the better it will be for us.

Mostly... People who make tulpas from pressure or without fully thinking things through can actually damage the reputation of tulpamancy if things go poorly, which is one reason I won't go full-out on using the exact tactics as mainstream religions. (The other being the moral issues of leading to more abandoned tulpas in the world, which is the opposite of why I started this blog.)

Either way, making more plurals IS part of "the future is plural." Acceptance requires numbers. And even if it didn't, awareness would inherently introduce the idea of plurality to more people who will try it out.

And I firmly believe that's a good thing.

And regardless of people's feelings on the matter... I think the idea of spreading tulpamancy should at least be a discussion on the table. Using the word proselytize is intentionally provocative. But I think the idea behind it may still have merit.

[wyvernwriterarchive]

🔮Snoozing and Spellcraft 💤

Summary: Asha has been studying hard, preparing to work on some new spell ideas she had. Unfortunately, her bodyguard and brutish nemesis Dinadan...exists.

CW: A few cuss words, but nothing too major

Word Count: 800+

Asha is sleeping peacefully. Unfortunately she's in the dining hall, which is the wrong place to sleep.

On the table near here is a small stack of books on spells and spellcraft, as well as notes.

Dinadan sees her and decides to be nosy.

He wipes his hands on his shirt, and checks the notes. As he expected, they are just magic stuff. Something he isn't really interested in. Although, it was weird that she was studying here of all places.

And what were these notes? He didn't know crap about magic, but there wasn't anything called a “Garth” spell. She even crossed it out. What a dumbass.

The noblewoman slowly stirs and starts to wake up. The first thing she sees is this oaf manhandling her precious research! How dare he!!

"Agh!! W-What do you think you're doing!?"

Crap. Not good. The red-haired devil isn't exactly a morning person. Or an evening person. Actually she's better when she never wakes up at all.

She swiftly stands up and snatches the paper out of his hands.

"Yeesh, calm down, girl!" He shouts, not even trying to put up a fight. He didn’t care about her stupid paper anyway. "I was just looking at your notes. They're pretty bad.”

"Bad? What are you talking about? These are nigh perfect!”

She bragged...about this? Being perfect? Gods above. Nobles always boast about the stupidest shit.

"What kind of spells is...Garth? Psyche? I've never heard of those kinds of magic.”

"Well for *your* information, THIS is a list of spells that I personally have been working on!"

Of course this fool didn't know anything. Brutes like him don't often do well in academic settings, so of course he wouldn't know a magical formula when he saw one.

Or, at the very least, they don't understand the arcane arts as much as most people would.

"Those old names were for uh...failed concepts. Conjuring earth and water shouldn't be impossible for me, but to be honest, it is annoying to work out the formulas on your own. Primal magic is hard to-”

"You can make your own spells?” He asked, cutting her off before she went down some annoying spiel about literal magic words. This seemed to annoy the scholar.

"Of course! So long as you have the knowledge, and talent. I assume you have neither?"

...

OK, that was rude. Perhaps she should take that back and apologize-

"Oh piss off. They'll probably be shit anyway.”

...Well neverMIND then!

"UGH! Still your vulgar tongue.” the scholar growled. “I must focus! The arcane arts won't be revolutionized by themselve- HEY!!”

Dinadan picked up one of the notes. And started reading,keeping this red-haired gremlin away with an outstretched hand. A classic bully maneuver.

``Concept; An arcane spell that mimics the effects of the rare Dyne weaponry. Dubbed Psyche for the time being.``

The rest was formulae and numbers. He didn't really get it. Magic didn't need to be this complex all the time, did it?

"...Dyne weaponry? Ain't those the shiny gold weapons that help you strike more?" He questioned.

"Ah, so the brute does know something after all!" She replied with snark in her voice, desperately reaching for her notes.

This was getting tiring, so he just gave them back with a sigh.

"Why are you working on them here anyway? Why not the library or something?”

"I was going to, but unfortunately, lunch came first. So,I,ever the scholar I am, decided to do some research during my lunch break. Carefully. I would never risk dirtying these tomes without good reason.”

"Ah. Fair enough, I guess.”

"Can you go now? I must...must focus..."

She yawned. The adrenaline of fending off this vile man all day did not beat the wave of tiredness she felt after studying this for the entire day.It was a pathetic sight to be honest. She'd work herself to the bone.

"Like hell you are,” Dinadan scoffed. “You're about to pass out.”

"Nonsense...don't be silly. I am simply...yawn~“”

...OK fine she was going to pass out.

"Ugh...no...I can't. I can't stop... I will not-”

The brute sighed.

"Hey, I saw this other soldier - Tiffany or something was her name - she was doing some magic while she was super tired. Next thing you know, there was a fresh new hole in the training grounds' wall. Magic plus being really feckin' sleepy equals someone's head comin' clean off.”

She groaned in annoyance. That was true...it isn't wise to exert yourself too much when it comes to magic.

"I...hate that you're right."

"Soooo... go to bed. I don't say this often about you nobles, but you seem to actually be talented. At least when it comes to magic. Shouldn't you wait until you're able to put that talent to good use?”

"I...suppose."

She stood up and grabbed her belongings.

"Well...I suppose I must be off. To bed I go. Thank you for your...crude words of wisdom, Sir Dinadan.”

"You are welcome,” he replied smugly. “And don't call me sir. I ain't one of those dopes in shitty armor. Just a regular merc.”

"...Right. Just Dinadan. Such a simple request won't be forgotten by the great Asha…Soleil… yawn~”

She was too tired to hype herself up in front of him. She sighed and walked out of the dining hall, prepared to take a nap.

Dinadan sighed back, and shrugged.

"What a weird girl.”

[friendlyfaded]

Thoughts on veglasko?? Would luv to know ur opinions on it!!

I think about this a lot. Like, a lot. I feel like that's not surprising, though, considering I've made it Abundantly Clear that I'm both a major Vega simp and a huge Lasko kinnie. So this has been in my brain for a while lol.

To address the elephant in the room here, in canon, there's no way this would ever work. I'm well aware of that. Freelancer and Gavin both loathe Vega, and Lasko loves both of them too much (platonically or romantically, take your pick) to associate with someone who caused either of them harm. But, if we were considering a universe where Vega never hurt Caelum, and as a result, never crossed paths with Freelancer or Gavin, there's a possibility.

I don't know if you know this, but there's a lot of really negative feelings at most higher education institutions. Like, if you ever get the chance to listen to your English Department talking about other departments, colleagues, other people's work, etc, you'll see what I mean. Academia often becomes this huge pissing contest built on passive aggressiveness and superiority complexes, complete with gatekeeping and general snootiness. Needless to say, I feel like it would be a very viable place for Vega to find food.

So he's unformed, just kind of vibing in the departmental offices building, when he feels concern instead of annoyance. He finds a professor in one of the offices talking to a student. Most of the teachers did genuinely care about their students, but that care tended to be overshadowed by their own self image. This professor wasn't trying to put on any kind of act, though. He just wanted to help.

Vega is intrigued. He doesn't often care much about humans, but this one seems so much softer and more passive, for lack of a better term, than many of his peers. He doesn't make backhanded jabs at his coworkers. He doesn't get annoyed when people ask him to run copies or deliver things to the registrar's office. He just does it, and he's genuinely happy to help.

I'll be honest, I have no idea how they would end up meeting. My best guess would be that Gavin would notice some demon he doesn't know hanging around Lasko and confront him. When he realizes that Vega is a sadism demon, he's even more confused, since Lasko has literally nothing for him. Vega ends up admitting, in his roundabout way, that he's fascinated by Lasko and is curious to know more about him. Gavin (very astutely) points out that the best way to learn more about someone is to talk to them, not to stalk them.

Vega figures he can try it Gavin's way, if only because he doesn't want to get chased off, and he ends up walking into Lasko's office one day, fully-formed and visible. Lasko understandably panics a bit, but he recognizes Vega's magic. Vega ends up having to explain that he's been feeding there for a while, and Lasko ends up kind of laughing because that's totally valid. Vega also says he's curious about Lasko, which catches him off guard since he has no idea why some sadism demon would even spare him a second thought.

They talk for a while, and Vega ends up appreciating that Lasko is willing to answer his questions. Better yet, he puts thought into his answers. He speaks with nuance and understanding of the topics he talks about, and Vega likes that. He's also drawn in by Lasko's gentleness. It's not something he sees a lot of in humans, so he's intrigued by it. On Lasko's end, he's very flattered that Vega seems to find him so interesting. Like, here's this tall, hot demon that just walks into his office and asks about how he feels about the frequent othering of demonkind and the prejudices against his race, and then actually listens to his thirty minutes of nonstop rambling about how discrimination of any kind, including against demons, does nothing but enforce damaging power structures and stir up tensions between empowered humans and demons to keep their attention off of the problems the government itself perpetuates.

Their relationship would be built on mutual intrigue and the connection I feel like they'd form with each other at being largely outcasted and misunderstood for reasons outside of their control. I can vividly see that "he asked for no pickles" meme with Vega looming over Lasko and glaring at some poor employee. This is his human, and nobody gets to cause him any pain or distress.

Mobile fucked up the extension to this post so I'm posting it separately lol

[nsilocastillon]

Anika did try, in uneasy but manageable steps. Castillon had taken the majority of the hunter's weight, hooking an arm around her like a delightful evening affair. Nsilo's sure the hunter has a dozen enemies who might want to get the better of her. However, Nsilo remains to shade the use of incapacitation as a pathetic cop-out. It's lacking in satisfaction if the mark is laid bare without a spark of fight. But it's not her doing and she does have to spin the cogs of her mind, to narrow down who might have put the wheels in motion.

As expected — at Nsilo's provocation, Anika stirs to life. Damning herself to the pitiful end in a muddy gutter. It's a waste of a rather beautiful face, Nsilo might think. "It sounds like you are giving up, Booker. No dice." It's a tease, but it's laced with the affirmation that Anika has a little more than that in her, to just throw it away to whatever she's gotten herself into tonight. Nsilo collects assets, not one creature to the next; if it's useful, it's worth having. Tattoo or no tattoo.

Where they stand, Castillon feels the shift in the air ahead, a speed that's echoing her own. Anika's grasping for her, almost the same way that Narcisse is making herself known. Oh? Le Blanc? Really? Nsilo hums her surprise.

Bad enemies to make, Booker. Truly. But then, she supposes. Castillon herself isn't great to be on the bitter end of either; she is, however, classier about it than this. It feels ultimately out of place. The sedation; the isolation; Narcisse; the faux pretence of approach like she's entitled to the world. Nsilo would find it charming if it didn't directly step into her path and the blueprints of her own plans. She might have goaded and teased, and flirted — but this is not how she had foreseen her evening, not when she had plenty attention on her arm, earlier. This act of defilement is simply an interference in a bet she's made in a Booker.

Anika plays a part in that. Booker senior isn't likely to play ball about being a replacement in the gambit. Besides, she quite likes Anika — the taste of her lips still stirs bemusement from Castillon at the very thought of provoking her again.

She'd have entertained Narcisse, on another night.

Painted lips draw up into a smile,"So, this is your doing then—?" It's cut off, because Anika grasps the black fabrics of her attire, dragging herself close, like she might actually be afraid of Le Blanc; like there's something more than a game afoot. She's whispering against her neck and Nsilo cocks her head, eyes flickering down to the hunter and back to Narcisse. Castillon queries — because what does Le Blanc have to fear really, asking for a hunter when to challenge it would be to air her own, antagonising plans? "Oh she's spoken for? My, I had no idea." It doesn't matter really, an there is an edge of mocking that Nsilo dampens with agitated interest. She's patient, for the right bet. "You might need to find another hunter, Le Blanc. She appears out of commission for whatever you want her for."

A beat, to point out a detail: "They're no fun to play with if they're unconscious."

@lcblanc / @anikabooker

It hadn't been easy. Anika had clung to the silver flask like a lifeline. Desperate for its contents like an addict. But her wife worked wonders and there hadn't been a doubt in Narcisse that Aoife could get it done. Spike the girl's drink with the natural ease only she could possess. Narcisse longed to kiss her in thanks, among other things... and perhaps, after the night is done and her plans fulfilled. For the time being, she mingled, smiling to herself, wondering if Daddy Booker had realized the perils his daughter found herself in. He was here, she was sure of it, had heard him, searched for him. And even if she could end it all quickly, Narcisse was a woman of patience.

She followed the young hunter's clumsy, wobbly steps to the bathrooms and stopped short only when she heard her with another. Even better yet, if someone else did her job for her. It couldn't be any more perfect if she tried. And she sipped her champagne as she waited, smiling into the glass when Anika emerged from it on the arms of Castillon.

Very well then.

Narcisse followed easily, only a subtle signal to her wife of her movements and plans. Aoife would understand, even after the years they've been apart, they were still adept at reading each other's needs. She followed their voices, Castillon's teasing and a smirked stretched her lips as mischief glinted in her eyes.

"Miss Castillon, what a lovely surprise to find you here... although I shouldn't be so, a lovely woman of class such as yourself." She sweeps in easily, a teasing tone in her voice as she moves lazily closer to the pair. "With some much class though, it does makes me wonder what goes through your mind, wanting to bed a hunter, mais bien sûr, that's none of my concerns." She pauses, eyeing the girl on the vampire's eyes with a glee in her eyes and the pleasure of knowing just surely how this night was going to end for them. She hums, a smile on her lips. "This particular hunter though, has been spoken for already... so you shouldn't bother yourself further... I'll take care of her from now."

@anikabooker / @nsilocastillon

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

I can't seem to get him out of my head recently, and with the wonderful suggestion from @ironstrange1991, I would like to present to you some headcanons I have on Supreme Strange/838-Strange with the gn!reader.

He has kept most of the people in his life at arms distance after becoming the sorcerer supreme. He was still close with Christine, but their relationship was never the same after his accident.

When Stephen created the Illuminati with Reed Richards, he knew that they had to be selective when it came to the people that would be working in the building. Not only were doctors, scientists, and engineers needed; they also needed people to work on the clerical side of the business.

Stephen, Reed, Peggy, Maria, Blackagar, and Charles were always busy with superhero duties and projects within the Illuminati. It was Susan Richards' idea to interview and pick assistants for the team.

Susan saw potential in you. She was a people person and was known for seeing right through people (She can turn invisible after all). She could tell that you were serious about your work, and your references were outstanding.

She put you with Stephen Strange, MD, and PH.D. Sorcerer Supreme.

The beginning of your partnership was rocky. He treated you as a glorified coffee runner and errand boy. One day, he had been harsh on you. Stephen was having an off day, and when you arrived to his office a minute late with his coffee he insulted you up one side and down the next.

You burst out in anger at him, yelling that you were the only one who put up with his demands and attitude. Nobody else would be willing to listen to his every complaint and not comment back, or how after all of these weeks you still showed up to work determined to make his day as smooth as possible.

After realizing what you had done, you left the building. You were too ashamed of yourself, having yelled at the most powerful being on the Earth over luke warm coffee and missed placed reports.

You never planned on going back to the Illuminati Headquarters until you realized you didn't clear your desk off before leaving. there were pictures there that were important to you along with an old knick-knack your aunt gave you when you were a child.

You returned the next day to the office, the normal time you would normally get there. You figured you would have at least ten minutes to get everything and leave before Stephen Strange would show up.

To your surprise, you found Stephen sitting in your office chair. There were two cups of coffee sitting on the desk, one with his name and the other with yours.

I've never been the most enjoyable person to work with. I want to apologize

You sat in the chair that faced your desk, Stephen remaining in your seat. The two of you conversed the entirety of the morning discussing how both of you had strengths and weaknesses the other had. The both of you slowly nursing the coffees.

After that explosion, the two of you seemed to be working better. In fact, Reed Richards had commented often to Stephen asking how he had a better assistant than he did.

Stephen would give you gifts on your birthday and for major holidays. He took note of what you liked, and stalked your social media to find any hobbies or interests of yours.

You always commented on how incredible the gifts were or how they were too nice to accept.

He would tell you how you deserved them. After all, you had to put up with his attitude and demanding schedule.

Your co-workers would stare at the two of you, and make remarks amongst themselves trying to figure out if you were just working for him or if you were also sleeping with him.

You didn't know about these comments until you attended a staff party. You went by yourself, joining the rest of the personal assistants. they were a good group of friends to have, it was the aids around the office that often stirred gossip.

They approached your group, a couple of them obviously drunk. "We know you're sleeping with Doctor Strange. You need to drop your act and give that position up to somebody who actually works and deserves that position."

You stared at the woman who approached the group. You didn't have to explain yourself to them, but you could not risk Stephen finding out your professional relationship with him had been a hot topic of gossip.

That was when you felt an all too familiar presence stand behind you. That and you say the fabric of his Cloak resting a few inches above the floor. "So what if we were sleeping together? Our productivity times and outcomes succeed those of Dr. Richards."

He watched as the woman's body language began to shrink, taking a step back toward her friends. "If I were you, i'd choose my next words very wisely."

The group ended up leaving, mumbling to themselves as the sulked back to the bar. You had turned around, seeing your friends had left. No doubt they left when Stephen came along, not many people tended to stay around when Stephen was there.

"That was nothing, I swear." You told him, hoping it did not make him upset.

He looked at you, briefly shaking his head. "They were bothering you, no need to apologize."

Stephen then asked you to leave with him, finding the staff party dull and lifeless. The two of you ended up at the Sanctum Sactorm where you had your own little party with Masters Mordo and Wong.

The next morning came, and you felt like you were hit by a bus. As your vision cleared up you realized you were not in your own bed. Looking to your side, you saw Stephen sound asleep. His bare chest was exposed, the both of you covered in a bed sheet. You spotted your clothes mixed in with his just past him on the floor.

Ah great, now those rumors were true.

[drwcn]

follow up to [post] exploring the crack au if lwj was a girl 

〒▽〒 ps im not trying to erase canon lwj representation, not at all, wangxian is mm in all my other fics, this is just stupid fun

in a ceteris paribus situation aka all other things staying equal: 

1) Lan Wangji 100% still has a resting bitch face, which probably would get her a couple of “Lan-er-guniang 美若天仙 (beautiful as an immortal/goddess) but would benefit from smiling more” comments but nobody is that desperate to die yet so, she’s spared. But damn... imagine the sheer number of thirsty boys who’d try to secure a marriage with LWJ. None of them is good enough for Wangji as far as Lan Xichen is concerned. Okay - maybe in Lan Xichen’s opinion, Nie Mingjue is good enough, but he couldn’t be less interested. I see her as I see Huaisang, Xichen please. 

2) Everything interaction between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in Wei Wuxian’s first life is now 500% more scandalous. 

Exhibit A) Their first meeting at the gates; Jiang Cheng immediately felt his spidey senses tingling.  —“You’d sooner have immortals flying out of your ass than get with someone like her. The second jade of Gusu? The pearl in old man Lan’s eyes? C’mon.”  —“Shut up, A-Cheng.” —“Uh-huh.”  —“Also, she’s not that pretty. Her brother Zewu-jun is much better. There’s a reason he’s ranked first.” WWX is still a disaster bi.  — “LMAO, you? Zewu-jun? Please.” 

Exhibit B) Just because LWJ is a girl does not mean WWX grew more brain cells. 

WWX, straight up to Lan Qiren’s face, “Lan-meimei and I - we’re zhiji.” (he means it like we’re kindred spirits, peas of a pod, etc)  LWJ: *does not deny* Lan Xichen: ⚆_⚆ Lan Qiren: ಠ╭╮ಠ

Exhibit C) Lan Wangji getting drunk the first time. Wei Wuxian knew he crossed a line the minute he invited Lan-er-guniang for a drink. Really, WWX, even for you, this is inappropriate. When Lan Wangji fell face first onto the table, Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up. “Hey....hey...Lan....Lan...-er-guniang,” He poked her. “Don’t...don’t sleep here! You can’t sleep here! If your Uncle finds out or if Jiang-shushu finds out...they’ll skin me alive and then...and then they’ll make me marry you! I don’t want to marry you; you don’t talk and I’m too young!” 

WWX, being a dipshit, “Hey Lan Zhan, call me Wei-gege.”  LWJ, drunk as fuck, “Wei..gege.”  WWX *((( heart )))* ??? 

Exhibit D) The Cold Pond. Okay, so I don’t think Zewu-jun would sabotage his sister’s virtue by sending a stupid teenage boy her way while she’s bathing, but doesn’t mean Su She is above all that. Wei “I didn’t see anything I swear!” Wuxian. Lan “I will gouge out your eyes.” Wangji. Somehow they still end up in the cave. Maybe WWX got in the water after LWJ got out and got sucked into the vortex and LWJ heard the commotion, turned around, saw WWX had disappeared. “Wei Ying?!” A panicked LWJ jumps back into the pond, “Stop fooling around, come out!” 

Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing 👀👀 when LWJ and WWX fall out of the cave together. Also the fact that Lan-er-guniang and Wei-gongzi went missing, together, for two days. Who knows what could’ve happened. I mean anything really. I mean... that’s gotta stir the pot a little were it not for the Yin Iron stealing everyone’s attention away from this bit of juicy scandal. 

Oh the whole story... so much to work with, so little time. 

3) Because Lan Wangji is a girl, now suddenly there’s a high ranking member of the Lan Clan who can host the girls at Cloud Recesses. I mean, Mianmian, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, Lan Wangji - SISTERLY FRIENDSHIP. Other than Mianmian, none of the girls are really talkers which suits Lan Wangji perfectly. Even Mianmian’s chatter is endearing.

4) Lan Wangji is absolutely still a powerhouse during the Sunshot Campaign. The inherent aesthetics of fem!lwj telling the Wen goons to “kneel” - no one will deprive me of this.  Also she will still cut off your arm if you cross her - Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao ya better watch out still. 

I am TORN between two options: Lan Wangji tol and kickass or Lan Wangji smol and kickass. On one hand, the aesthetics of willowy elf-like LWJ, on the other hand, 5′2′’ of whoop ass who can and will throw an unconscious wwx over her shoulder firewoman-style and toll him to safety.  

And amongst other things: 

A) Lan Wangji still becomes Chief Cultivator, because excuse me who else is left to clean up this mess? Jiang “Short-fuse” Wanyin? Nie “I won’t do what I’m not intended to do” Huaisang? Jin “13 year-old” Ling? Or Sect Leader Yao?  Technically, being a woman means that she was never Lan Xichen’s heir, but at the end of it, it’s not like Gusu Lan is left with a lot of choices.  Just the poetic justice of Gusu Lan pleading for Lan Wangji to come back when she fully intends to 隐居山野 (retreat into the mountains) with the resurrected WWX.

Lan Wangji being Chief Cultivator would echo Lan Yi’s tenure and rectify the fact that Gusu Lan’s only female head of family “failed”. Lan Yi had to face a mountain of prejudice because she was woman; someone has to say “up yours” to that. A woman as not only the sect master of Gusu Lan but the Chief Cultivator? Love that for Gusu Lans. (⌐■_■) ☞ ☞

B) Because of ~ sexism ~ I wonder if Lan Wangji would get titled “Hanguang” at all even after the Sunshot Campaign. Even Lan Yi, the SL Lan of her time didn’t have a title. Chances are LWJ won’t either. (Note: Violet Spider is not a title, it’s a moniker). So — say after the way Lan Wangji is still just “Lan-er-guniang”, and she does not obtain the title “Han Guang” until after she leaves Cloud Recesses and become rogue. (srsly how did they come up with these titles in canon, did gusu lan just look at 21 year old lwj and be like yah he’s lord light bearer *cue trevor noah stand up joke* why do you call yourself “great” britain? isn’t that a bit presumptuous? shouldn’t you go around doing good things and then let other people come to the conclusion: oh britain look how great you are? same logic with lwj.) 

Lan Wangji, a Jade of Gusu or a nameless rogue, still goes where trouble is, helping those who need it. After laying low for a year or two to heal, Lan Wangji began night hunting. Donned neck to ankle in white silk and tulle, and a weimao (wide brimmed veil hat) obscuring her face, she became known to the people as Hanguang Sanren, the lightbearing wanderer. Gusu’s highest power probably has some idea who she is - or at least they can guess - but the vast majority of people don’t. 

C) Lan Sizhui raised by rogue Lan Wangji as his mum would be different. Still cultured, respectful, but definitely with an air of keeping others at arm’s length. 

For instance, grown-up Sizhui running interference and saving a cohort of gentry disciples on joint hunts.

Jingyi: 这人谁呀？Who is this guy? Zizhen: 多谢兄台搭救之恩，小可看您眼生，敢问兄台尊姓大名，何门何派，改日当登门拜访. Many thanks for saving us. I don’t believe we’ve met, pray tell what is your name and sect, so we may visit at a later time to thank you for tonight. Sizhui: 在下无门无姓 ，单名思追 。举手之劳不足挂齿 ，怎敢劳烦各位名门子弟答谢。My name is Sizhui, belonging to no family and to no sect. As for tonight - I only did what anyone would; it bears no mentioning and requires no thanks. Jin Ling: 你这人，看你工力不凡，想和你交个朋友，可你怎么遮遮掩掩的。Hey you, we see you’re a talented cultivator and want to make your acquaintance. Why are you so dodge-y? Zizhen：金陵 — Jing Ling - Sizhui: 若是有缘，还会相见。告辞。If it’s fated, we will meet again. Farewell.  

Later:  Jingyi: 思。追。 思追谁？Si. Zhui. To recollect and long for whom?  Sizhui: 母亲的一位故人. Someone from Mother’s past.  Jingyi: 你父亲？...Your father?  Sizhui: 我不知。I don’t know. 

I thought about how cute it would be if sizhui and jin ling knew each other but guys...Jiang Cheng literally thinks he killed Sizhui’s biological father. Like he literally thinks he orphaned Sizhui before Sizhui is even born. And Lan Wangji would never accept anything from Jiang Wanyin, not that it would stop Jiang Wanyin from trying. 

A package of books here, a new robe for Sizhui there. Lan Wangji doesn’t know how Jiang Cheng keeps finding her. She and Sizhui are nomadic.  

D) The inevitable conversation after wwx is revived. 

You know what would be funnier than Jiang Cheng thinking Sizhui is a wangxian baby is if Lan Qiren thinks Sizhui is a wangxian baby. 

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

So I did end up watching the rest of Season 1, and I pretty much stand by my criticisms and suggestions. There are serious problems with the writing to the point that it genuinely looks like they were just making shit up as they went along without any actual plan, and I can only describe the characters as just brutally mismanaged.

That said, I am glad that I stuck it out and watched the whole thing. The first three episodes are really rough, but I genuinely liked Episode 4, and the rest of the show has some good moments despite its many problems. It's a shame that a lot of people will doubtless watch the pilot and the first 1.5 episodes available for free on YouTube, find it too cringey or messy to get through, and not bother to watch the rest.

Episodes 5-8 mainly struggle from trying to do way too much, in too little time, extremely inefficiently. Some have speculated that maybe Medrano wanted more episodes per season but was refused by Amazon, and while I don't think simply giving them more time would have solved all of the show's problems, I can certainly see how it could have helped. The show has a bad habit of introducing ideas or characters in an episode and trying to resolve them in that same episode, resulting in rushed storytelling that isn't as emotionally impactful as it could have been if it was developed naturally across more episodes.

Medrano has already said that Season 2 will introduce even more new characters, and I gotta say, this is literally the exact opposite of what I want. There are already way too many characters, with major characters being unable to be developed fully due to how little screentime they get and minor characters appearing so briefly that the audience doesn't have enough time to even really understand who they are or why they should care about them. I understand having this big cast of characters that you want to play around with and wanting more time to do that, but if you're forced to work within these limits, you need to adjust your plans accordingly. It's better to do a smaller-scale project well than to try to stuff something extravagant into a too-small package.

It also doesn't bode well that the show hasn't been confirmed for a third season, meaning that the entire show needs to be wrapped up by the end of the next season. Given their track record, I find it pretty unlikely that that things will be resolved in a meaningful, satisfying way. We could get either a season 2 that anticipates an unconfirmed season 3, resulting in an unfinished show if season 3 never materializes, or a story that is rushed to the point of being nonsensical in order to finish on time. I mean, of course I'm hoping that they'll both narrow the scope and step up the writing in order to finish things well, but I'm just really doubtful.

I guess I consider this post my drop in the bucket to stir up interest in the show in the hopes that Amazon will sign off on either a longer Season 2 or a Season 3 (or preferably both). I want to see where this goes, and I want it to have the best shot at a successful story.

Hazbin Hotel isn't good, I just really wish it was

And so I bit the apple, and evil spilled forth into the world

This review contains spoilers for Hazbin Hotel.

I wasn't going to watch Hazbin Hotel. I've always gotten kind of a negative vibe from it ever since it first appeared on my radar years ago. It's hard to pinpoint exactly what put me off it when so little content had even been released, but I guess it just struck me as very crude and "edgy" in this juvenile and kind of offensive way; plus I had heard some vague criticisms that the creator was a not-so-great person, though I wasn't sure how true those rumors were.

But since the Amazon show came out in January, the algorithm has been pestering me nonstop to watch this show with advertisements, memes, recommended videos.

It makes some sense; as someone who enjoys both Lucifer and Disney princesses, you might think that I'm the target audience of this show. And there's not a huge amount of crossover between those two groups, so if I won't watch it, who the hell will?

So after seeing some stuff that intrigued me, I finally decided to give the show a shot and at least watch the stuff available for free (that's the pilot, episode 1, and the first 10 minutes of episode 2). This review is based on that content as well as other clips, the soundtrack, and what I've read online about the story going forward. If that makes this review null and void to you, feel free to stop reading. I generally like to experience the entirety of a thing before reviewing it, but I'm not eager to throw money at Amazon without cause, and in this case, I feel that a lot can be said based solely on this limited content.

My initial impression? To be honest, I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe that's because my expectations were through the floor, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. Both the pilot and the Amazon series have serious problems, but they have some strengths as well, in my opinion.

Starting with the pilot: I'll admit that it presents a very cruel, ugly world full of frankly unrealistically shitty people. The humor is juvenile and often tasteless. The dialogue can be pretty clunky, and the "insults" levied are often so pathetic that hearing them oscillates between boring and infuriating. The worldbuilding is poorly conveyed and hard to follow.

But if you can get past all that, and I acknowledge that that's a big ask, there are some interesting things about this pilot.

Angel Dust is an interesting character. One of the things I really can't stand is when media portray literally everyone as evil, but even in the pilot, it's made pretty clear that Angel Dust is not actually a bad person. First off, what exactly are his "sins"? Being gay and doing porn? Sure, he shows the capacity to be at least somewhat mean and violent, but you can tell from his interactions with Charlie, Vaggie, and Cherri Bomb that he's not actually malicious or sadistic. In the limo, he says, "I owed my girl buddy a solid; isn't that a 'redeeming quality'? Helping friends with stuff?" And like...he's correct! Vaggie dismisses this out of hand, but it shows that Angel Dust is able to care about other people, and this is reinforced later when he almost goes to comfort Charlie but gives up. There's a setup here for a story about someone who is good at their core but looks bad, either because they engage in behaviors that are socially taboo even if they're not actually harmful (e.g. homosexuality, sex work) or because they engage in behaviors that are actually bad (e.g. being mean and violent), but only because those behaviors are normalized or arguably required by their environment (I mean, what was he supposed to do? Just let his friend get blown up?). It would be genuinely interesting to see Charlie and Vaggie reckon with their own biases and black-and-white view of morality and come to see the good in Angel Dust, and then to see how Angel Dust might grow and change as a person when he actually feels seen and respected.

Alastor also has a lot of potential. His design and theming are genuinely interesting, a mix of ancient horned beast and 1930s transatlantic accented radio presenter. He's clearly a character intended to elicit intense fear, which means he can serve as an exploration of what scares us most. The "radio" theme presents some really intriguing ideas for this exploration. Alastor represents something that can be heard but not seen; not only this, but he can't even really be heard. We only hear his voice through the low-fidelity transmission of a radio, suggesting that what we're perceiving is at least a bit off from reality, somehow inauthentic, and that makes us wonder what horrors could be lurking in that gap.

It's obvious to me that Angel Dust and Alastor are the strongest characters in the show. Charlie feels like a cardboard cutout by comparison, and Vaggie is totally devoid of flavor. Angel Dust makes far more sense as a protagonist, so why does the show center around Charlie?

Hazbin Hotel feels like a show centered around a gimmicky premise: what if Disney princess, but in Hell? Ooh, how subversive, how funny! But it doesn't really know what to do with that premise. It doesn't really know who Charlie is, and it doesn't really know what Hell is. But it does know who Angel Dust is and who Alastor is, or at least it has the spark needed for those ideas to blossom into fully-developed characters, so why not start there?

Moving on to episode 1 of the Amazon series. Immediately, I was surprised by the direction in which they took the show. Based on the pilot, one of my biggest concerns was that the show would be solely about individual self-improvement and "redemption" and fail to address the systemic/environmental problems that are the ultimate cause of evil. I figured the show would likely center around individual sinners trying to improve themselves and then, after the necessary amount of struggle and conflict, they would succeed and prove to both Heaven and Hell that they were worthy of ascension, without anyone ever questioning why this system of sorting people into good and bad exists in the first place or how it can possibly be seen as ethical, even if people are ultimately allowed to move between the two. I figured Heaven would be portrayed as not evil but simply misguided or small-minded, and that, having rectified those inadequacies, the system would continue on largely unchanged. Happy ending, woooo.

Episode 1 makes it very clear that that is not the direction that this is going. Heaven is pretty clearly portrayed as evil, which was mostly a positive for me. I find the whitewashing of stuff like mass murder pretty fucking gross, so it's nice that the exterminations of Hell's citizens aren't being framed as morally justified.

Unfortunately, this does result in some narrative problems. The show depends on Charlie believing that Heaven can be reasoned with, and that if she works hard, they'll eventually see the light. But after being brutally rejected by Adam like that, why would Charlie continue to think that these are good, reasonable people who are just misguided? Not only does Adam deny her in the most explicit terms possible, he's totally pigheaded and unempathetic.

We're now getting into stuff that I haven't seen firsthand, but from what I understand, Charlie continues running her hotel and trying to negotiate with Heaven. She's able to prove that a sinner can improve themselves, but she's unable to get them into Heaven, and ultimately has to resort to trying to stop the exterminations with brute force.

If that's the case, then why have this reveal that Heaven is evil in the very first episode? Delay the reveal until closer to the end, have Charlie work hard to accomplish her dream under the impression that her work will ultimately pay off, only to have Heaven reveal that it was never about being a good person at all and merely about their desire to consolidate power for themselves. Then have Charlie reckon with that, how she's been putting all the burden on herself and her people to prove themselves, when the system was never fair to begin with and the people in power were just exploiting a narrative for their personal gain. Now THAT'S a spicy story.

I think it's my desire to see that story play out, and my respect for Hazbin being willing to make Heaven the bad guys (even if it obstinately refuses to say the G word), that has kept my interest in the show despite its obvious flaws. Somewhere in this tangled-up mess there is a story about questioning and resisting the moral narratives fed to us about ourselves by people who do not have our best interests at heart. There's a story about claiming your power and fighting back against oppressive systems.

Is Hazbin Hotel with its Disney XD-esque style and middle-school humor woefully unequipped to tell that story? Well, yes, yeah. And I guess that should have been obvious to everyone from the start. But it feels like a shame.

A similar problem with narrative trajectory occurs regarding Lucifer and Alastor. If we compare Charlie to the Disney princess formula, we see the obvious issue. We know that while Charlie's parents are very powerful, she's alienated from both of them (Lilith because she's missing and Lucifer because they have a bad relationship) and so doesn't have access to their power. In the pilot, we see that Charlie doesn't officially make a deal with Alastor, but she does allow him to work at the hotel. So we sort of have a Chekhov's deal situation here, where if Charlie was pushed to her limit, she might be tempted into making a deal with the devil. Triton won't let Ariel go to the surface, so Ariel makes a deal with the sea witch instead.

But what happens if Ariel reconciles with Triton before getting to that point? Well, then Ursula wouldn't have a tentacle to stand on.

And this is what happens in Hazbin. In episode 5, Lucifer is introduced and reconciled with Charlie in the very same episode. Lucifer is shown to be basically infinitely more powerful than Alastor and is genuinely and totally devoted to Charlie, so she no longer has any reason to depend on Alastor. He's lost all of his leverage over her and no longer presents any real threat, so...what the hell is his role in this story now?

I'm not saying Hazbin Hotel needs to copy the story arc of a Disney princess movie just because Charlie is inspired by Disney princesses. I'm perfectly fine with the show wanting to do its own thing. But it turns down a totally viable arc in favor of...nothing. Why?

The pilot so heavily teased the mystery of Alastor's character, what terrible consequences might result if Charlie were to make a deal with him. So like...let us see that! Hell, this could even be easily connected back to the main storyline that I was talking about before. Have Charlie be totally demoralized by the revelation that Heaven isn't actually good and that the world is deeply broken in a way she never even imagined. Maybe even up the stakes by making it more personal, like having Heaven threaten to specifically target her girlfriend or one of her friends in the next extermination. Push her to complete desperation and then have Alastor swoop in and offer her a way out. Still alienated from her father (or perhaps after attempting to get closer but being once more rebuked), she feels like she has no choice but to accept, and ends up in a bad situation. Then Lucifer sees her in trouble and shows up to save her, making her realize that he does actually care about her; and Lucifer, seeing how Charlie and her friends genuinely care for each other, is shown that sinners aren't just hopelessly wicked. Alastor gets his chance to shine and the reconciliation with Lucifer feels earned and meaningful.

This show has such potential to be both interesting and emotionally impactful, but it's hindered by its unwillingness to take itself seriously and thoughtfully plan out its narrative and character arcs.

It would be one thing if the show was just complete garbage. I know that a lot of people see it that way, but I really don't think that's the case. There is something here.

I'm not currently planning on watching the rest of the show. That could certainly change, especially if others tell me that it's worth it despite the problems. If you've watched the show (or even if you haven't), I'd be very curious to hear your thoughts on my evaluation.

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary:  An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy!  Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble) 

KIM SEOKJIN 

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI 

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK 

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you  turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON 

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES:  Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :) 

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Leave Your Lover (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! So, this was going to be one really long part, but it kind of got away from me and I had to split it into two. Don’t worry the next part is going to be very long either way because that’s the half that got away from me. This takes place pre-Infinity War. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Leave Your Lover”, mainly the line featured. 

Summary: A brief glimpse into life on the run. Will Wanda be able to find Y/n? 

“If I can't have you I'll walk this life alone, spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow.”

Being on the run was difficult to say the least and being on the run while trying to find someone who was actively trying not to be found was even worse. Despite being told by the rest of the group that it may be in her best interest to just move on and let you go, Wanda knew that wasn’t an option. She had made a promise to herself that she was going to keep fighting for you, no matter the cost. Wanda had let you go once and she wasn’t going to let it happen, not if there was a part of her that knew you still had love in your heart for her.

The only one who knew where you were at all times was Steve and he had spent the last few months absolutely refusing to disclose your exact location. That never stopped her from trying though. 

Eventually though, he gave in. Steve wasn’t sure if it was her sheer determination that impressed him or the fact that he had never seen you happier than when you were with her. If she thought she could create happiness in a terrible situation, Steve thought she at least deserved a true chance and he wouldn’t stand in the way. 

When she received the location, Wanda quickly packed what little she had and booked the next train ticket to Rennes, France. Feeling hopeful for the first time since long before the events of Lagos. _________________________________

For the majority of the time you’d been on the run, you stuck to the idea that hiding in plain sight was the best course of action. Which is why you were currently at a poorly lit bar, trying to live as normal a life as you possibly could under the circumstances. The only unfortunate thing was that you couldn’t interact with anyone due to the risk of being discovered. So, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, you knew it would be time to go.

Before turning, you downed your drink to prepare yourself to either get hit on by a random drunk person or convince them you weren’t who they thought you were.

Neither options were what you got when you turned around though. You tilted your head in pleasant surprise at the sight before you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Without thinking and perhaps partially due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, you wrapped yourself tightly around the woman in front of you. She laughed in surprise and gladly returned the embrace. You couldn’t help but revel in the contact, touch deprived from all the time you had spent in solitude.

For a while, you both just stood there, wrapped in one another’s embrace. Ignoring the occasional odd look from random passer byers. With one final squeeze, you released her but kept your hands on her shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nat.” you admitted to her with a smile on your face.

Natasha easily returned the smile. “It’s good to see you too. I was passing by outside when I thought I saw you sitting here and I had to see if it was really you.”

“What are the chances?” you asked with a laugh as you signaled the bartender over and ordered drinks. “Let’s celebrate.”

After drinking for a bit and catching up slightly, you both agreed that staying longer would be too much a risk and decided to take a walk outside. 

“You dyed your hair.” You noted as you reached over and took a strand of her hair gently in between your fingers before letting it go. “It looks good.”

A playful smirk spread across Natasha’s lips. “Yeah, well, I figured the red was a dead giveaway for me, so… blonde it was.” She nudged you playfully. “A better disguise than a beanie and glasses at least. You’re no better than Rogers.” 

A boisterous laugh escaped your lips, “What can I say? That man taught me everything I know.” Natasha shook her head but laughed despite herself. 

You knew you would have to separate soon, but you tried not to focus on that. The pair of you walked in contented silence, enjoying the comfort of not being alone, even if it was temporarily.  Eventually you both come up on the street where your hideout was located and for the first time you didn’t feel the need to rush in. Thankfully there was a small bench located across the street and you both wandered over and took a seat, enjoying the cool air.

“How have you been?” Natasha eventually asked, her eyes on yours as she attempted to analyze you.

You pondered the question for a moment. “I’ve been… lonely.” You finally breathed out, turning your gaze skyward. “I feel alone. I miss real connections. I miss just being able to walk down the street without fear of corporal punishment. I miss human contact.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your knee and squeezed lightly. You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I know what you mean. You’re never really alone though, Y/n. You know we’d all be there in a heartbeat if we could, if we have to.” 

The touch and the knowledge that you weren’t alone was something you had missed. Again, whether it was the alcohol in both your systems or the deprivation of another human’s touch, but you both found yourselves leaning forward and connecting lips. 

It was gentle and nice, but you couldn’t help but compare it to Wanda. Kissing Wanda always felt powerful and right. The way your whole body felt like electricity was coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches. Kissing Wanda always felt like coming home. You could’t help but think you needed this to realize that the one you still wanted was the one you shouldn’t want.

Despite this, you didn’t pull away, tangling your hand in Natasha’s now blonde locks as her hands fell to your waist. You allowed yourself this small moment of comfort.

Across the street, Wanda had been approaching only to stop in horror at the sight before her. Her mind rushing and heart breaking at the sight. If she felt a fraction of what you did that night on the roof, she couldn’t imagine how you got through it. As much as her heart ached in her chest, she didn’t allow it to stop her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. That you hadn’t already given your heart to another. 

After some time, both you and Natasha pulled away. Laughing when you met one another’s eyes. “That was… nice.” You said lightly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re drunk. We will never speak of this again.” She chuckled and looked at her watch. “My train leaves in a little over an hour, I should probably go.” You nodded in understanding and she hugged you once more before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, Nat?” you called after her. She turned. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded and blew a teasing kiss your way before walking off into the night. With a sigh you leaned into the bench and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that you were alone again. 

It had to have been less than a few minutes when you felt someone sit next to you, your eyes shot open and met with stunning emerald eyes that used to be your world. “Wanda?” you whispered, feeling the air leave your lungs at the sight of her. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly, but there was melancholy in her eyes. “So, you and Nat, huh?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sadness. Possibly even acceptance. You quickly realized that she must have seen the kiss.

“And if we are? Together, I mean. What will you do?” You probed challengingly.

Pain flooded her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Nothing. I’m not going to interfere if you’re happy, but… but just know that I won’t stop fighting for you. I’ll be here waiting because our love is destined and I’m not going away. I’ll still love you even if you chose to love someone else. You have all of me. Always.” She paused slightly. “You are my only direction.” She added quietly, repeating the words you once told her back to you. 

Your heart clenched at the referenced moment, of one of your formerly favorite moments. 

Staring off into the distance, you could feel the numbness begin to fade as the alcohol started to leave your system. “Why?”

She lifted her gaze up to you curiously, but you didn’t meet her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep trying?” 

Wanda took a deep breath and turned so she was facing you completely even if you wouldn’t look at her. “Love.” She stated simply, “I’m in love with you, beyond all rationality. Even if you don’t believe me. I want you to have everything you want, even if its Nat, even if that destroys me.”

Even in Spain you had never heard her speak so passionately. It terrified you. Terrified you so much that you wanted to get up and run far, far away from her. Far from the feelings that her words stirred within you.

Wanda wasn’t done though, she needed to get everything off her chest. To lay all her cards out. “When you love someone, you don’t stop. Even when everyone on the team calls me crazy and tells me I should just move on and let you go. I won’t stop or give up because if I could give up…” She risked taking your hand in hers, sighing in relief when you don’t pull back. “If I could give up and listen to everyone’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love. That would be some imitation that is not worth fighting for.”

“Wanda…” you whispered finally looking up at her, noticing the way her eyes shined with unshed tears.

She squeezed your hand again. “But you… You are more than worth fighting for. You will always be worth fighting for. And if I can’t have you I’ll be alone because no one else can hold my heart. This is love.”

“I’m not with Natasha.” You admitted softly after Wanda’s declaration, watching the way relief filled her eyes. “I think we were both just lonely and comforting each other.”

The relieved smile that took over Wanda’s features was contagious as you couldn’t help but smile hesitantly back at her. 

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. That was the first time you had smiled at her since the night on the roof. 

“What does that mean?” she questioned hopefully.

With hesitation, you interlaced your fingers with Wanda’s. “It means that I’m still not sure I trust you and I’m not ready to be with you again.” Her head dropped in dejection. “But. I’m not going to ask you to leave if you want to stay and work on that.”

For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt a semblance of happiness blossom in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she surged forward and took you in her arms, melting when you held her back. “I promise I’ll earn your trust back. I’m not going anywhere. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Y/n.”

Part 10! double digits! Pre-Infinity War and Infinity war was supposed to be one chapter and in hindsight that was probably overly ambitious of me. That means there will now be 13 parts instead of 12. Anyway, as always let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed! :)

[angry-geese]

Jotaro Kujo x reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut, fingering, oral (masc reciving), unprotected sex, not the healthiest relationship dynamic, implied age difference, daddy kink. Fem!Reader

Notes: Jotaro being a sugar daddy. College student!Reader, pt4 Jotaro- sort of takes place before the events of DIU but it really isn't clear

It only took a call.

You were still a college student at the time, taking a semester off of your studies. You had no idea what direction you wanted to go with your life, and wanted to get things sorted out before you dove head-first into a major you'd hate. Putting it lightly: the future was terrifying. For the time being, you were working at a coffee shop. It was a decent job- at full time it covered rent for an apartment you shared with a friend. You weren't rolling in it by any means, but you were comfortable enough.

Jotaro frequented your work. You had his order memorized: a single black coffee and a bagel- if he was getting something to eat that morning. Rather boring. A boring order for a seemingly aloof and uninteresting guy. From the very beginning you piqued his interest. You were just bubbly enough to break through that shell of his. He often asked you how school was going. Having thought about majoring in marine biology, it gave you two a lot to talk about. In the end you decided against it, but by then he was already head-over-heels for you.

It wasn't often you found yourself giving out your number to customers. Something about him interested you. It wasn't an immediate thing, taking you weeks to work up the nerve to do it. His reaction was hard to gauge.

You wouldn't receive a text until later that night.

He spent the entire day trying to figure out what to say. So he went with something simple: How are you?

It didn't take long for the two of you to make plans to see each other again. Your first date was to a fancy restaurant. Fancier than you were used to. Working as a barista wouldn't cover a dinner like that, even with tips. Seeing the bill nearly made your soul jump out of your body, but you gritted your teeth and figured you'd eat nothing but ramen until payday. You tried not to look too relieved when he said he'd pay. It was a first date, maybe he was trying to be nice. Then it happened on your second. Then again. No matter how much you offered to pay, he always refused, going out of his way to cover your half. At times it was irritating. It didn't feel fair to let him pay for everything.

You weren't exactly dating, but if someone asked you would deny being single. There was little you knew about him. Obviously you weren't entirely clueless; you knew about his occupation, some small things he liked, one time he even mentioned having a daughter. But it was all very basic, something you could get from one conversation. He was very reserved,

He's not quite sure how it happened. It was only a necklace.

Jotaro just wanted company. Dating someone so much younger made him a bit uncomfortable. To him, there was an obvious power difference. A man his age shouldn't be dating someone as young as you. Sure, you were an adult who could make their own decisions, but it felt wrong. He felt like he was abusing his position, but seeing you bent over his desk wearing nothing but that necklace changed that.

Any time you called, he'd come running. It wasn't always sex. He slept better with someone next to him. Sometimes you'd call him to fuck you against every flat surface of your apartment.

His rough hands trace over the delicate lace of your bra- a gift. Most of them were. Through his pants he hardens against your thigh. You grind down on his lap, your fingers working the buttons of his shirt. His fingers ghosts across your clit through your panties. Wetness pools between your thighs, making the thin fabric of your panties stick to your skin. You're almost embarrassed at how quickly you melt under his touch. Almost.

You should be glad the door to his office locks.

His fingers trace around your clit- not enough to get you anywhere fast- before moving to your thigh. His spare hand palms himself through his trousers. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. You shift, almost unnoticeable so, desperate for more friction. His expression darkens. In retaliation you grind harder against his thigh.

"Don't be a brat."

"Sorry daddy."

He grunts, seemingly unimpressed with your apology. As much as he pretended to hate the nickname, it made something deep within him stir- almost shamefully so. His hands move to unhook your bra, tossing it aside. Often he ruined them, tearing them in the heat of the moment. He always bought you more.

Anything you wanted he would give to you.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest, gently tugging your legs open. Part of you is glad he can't see how you're blushing. His erection presses against your back, painfully hard and leaking against his thigh. From behind, he sucks a dark mark into your neck- you'll have a hard time covering it up in the morning. Not that you mind, you don't have much to do tomorrow anyway. For a moment his hand dips under the waistband of your panties. His free hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He could watch you writhe under him all day. You maneuver your hips so he can pull them down, baring your sex. The sight of him fully clothed while you're completely naked sends a heat straight to your core. When you cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself, he's pulling them away, huffing in frustration. He'd never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with, but he sure did push your limits.

His fingers trace up the soft skin of your thigh. You jolt as his thumb briefly traces across your clit, before his hand comes to a rest on your leg. You know better than to grind against him. Though sometimes you do it just to piss him off. Roughly he shoves presses two fingers into you, moving with quick, short motions. Idly his thumb brushes over your clit. You can't help but squirm. Your moans and pleas only spur him on more. The sounds of your slick sex fills the room. Heat rises up in your cheeks at the lewd noises.

"Please daddy,"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me."

"Not until you cum on my hand first."

You whine. He only picks up the pace. This isn't the first time he's had to stretch you out before fucking you. The building tension in your stomach only serves to make you moan louder, crying out when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, goosebumps rising up on your exposed skin. Your breathing grows unsteady the closer you get to your own release. Against your bare thighs, Jotaro's cock hardens, leaking precum into his white pants. Your thighs clamp around his hand as you cum hard. He grunts and nips at your neck, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand. It's only when the overstimulation becomes too much and you cry out that he pulls away, making a show of licking his fingers.

"On your knees."

"Yes daddy."

You slide off his lap so you're kneeling in front of him. His hands rest at his sides.

You waste no time in freeing him from his pants, his hardened cock springing free. Precum weeps from the head, which is flushed and angry looking. He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth. Your hands work the part of his shaft that won't fit- he's to big to fit in entirely. You press kitten licks to the head, slowly pumping him in your fist. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his breathing is shallow and shaky. He groans at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth.

He doesn't want the moment to end just yet.

Jotaro's hand tangles in your hair, pulling you off of his cock with an audible pop. He hauls you into his lap, your knees on either sides of his thighs, your chest pressed against his. Slowly he guides you onto his cock, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. The sent of his cologne is heady and intoxicating. You're half drunk from his touch, your pupils blown, lips bitten pink. Even with the prep, it stings a bit. As you let out a hiss of pain, he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, smoothing a hand over your hair. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, before guiding you down more. You bottom out on his cock, moaning at the feeling.

Your lust-addled mind barely registers the way he begins bouncing you on his cock, guiding your hips with his hands. The sounds of your moans mix with the noise of skin slapping on skin. His fingers dig into your hips- not hard enough to leave bruises, but hard enough to hurt. You're so overcome with a mix of pain and pleasure that you can't focus on anything but him. He pulls you in for a kiss, but ends up nibbling at your bottom lip until you let him in your mouth. When Jotaro pulls away, a trail of saliva connects the two of you. A splotchy blush creeps up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He's unbuttoned the top few of his shirt, exposing his collarbone. Sweat beads on the planes of muscle of his chest and neck. He groans sinfully as you clench around him. You scramble for purchase against him, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his back.

His free hand moves to toy with your clit, the other gropes at your hips. He's can't pry his eyes from the way your tits bounce as you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks.

"Inside!"

Your answer catches him off guard, but he's too close to his own orgasm to refuse. Your own release rolls over you like a wave, spitting you out and leaving you ruined. He clings onto your shaky form, pulling you close to him. Mascara streams down your face, your lipstick is smeared. His hot cum spills into your unprotected womb, leaking from you as he pulls out.

Jotaro takes a moment to admire your fucked-out expression before pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Your breathing evens out after a moment. You could fall asleep there if he'd let you. He just might. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, content where you are. The sight of your relaxed form makes affection swell in his chest. He uses the moment to press a kiss to your forehead.

The more he tried to convince himself he wasn't in love with you, the worse it got.

[profnodanna]

Who are the most annoying shippers in the K fandom?

Eheheh, dear anon, what a particular question you've asked me. I wonder from where it comes from. What made you ask this question. And why you chose me. Did you send the same question to other people? Or are you genuinely interested in my opinion? Does it have something to do with the ships I like? Has something happened in the fandom? Are you trying to stir up some drama? Are you going to link my answer to some private chat to demostrate a point? Or your actions are sincere and pure? Are you a friend or a foe?

Unfortunately for you, you haven't unlocked the option to hear my frank and caustic opinion yet. You know, it requires a lot of friendship points, and they are hard to gain when you're anonymous to me.

I could stop here, but I don't want to avoid your question. On the contrary, I want to use it to clarify some of my thoughts about this fandom, my way to live it, and the behaviours I draw a line at.

I've been living the K fandom on tumblr since 2016. And at least once a year, some anon would go around to make the same kind of question to active blogs in the fandom. Why? The majority of people in the fandom, in all the fandoms, agrees that, in the best case scenario, this is the kind of question that can cause discomfort to the whole community. It's never nice to accuse someone of being annoying just because he likes this instead of that.

Since I am part of this community, I don't want to cause discomfort with my unrequested judgement on the personal quality of some categories of people. If I don't want trash in my community, and I don't want others to throw around their garbage, it's up to me to act correctly in the first place.

I won't go around saying "uh, these shippers are dumb af!" expecting they won't get offended. Even if they're really dumb. I mean, even dumb people have the right to enjoy themselves.

There are lots of immature brats in fandoms. Let's not add more trash to the pile of trash (unless you want it. In that case your actions speak for yourself).

Second point. I'm gonna tell you a secret:

Annoying shippers don't exist. Annoying people do.

Why I am saying that. They're not annoying because of the ship they like. They're annoying because they're immature brats who can't behave in a group of people with different ideas and likes. It has nothing to do with the ship itself, which is the true victim of the whole affair.

It can happen that some ships tend to attract more annoying people: that some of them can become a tiny group very loud that seems to talk for all the shippers. Well, that's not true. It's the contrary. They keep away all the good shippers, who legitimately don't want to be involved or associated to them.

So when we say "urgh, these shippers are so annoying!" we end up with offending quiet people who were making their own business. And that's not nice.

This leads to another consequence: if you present yourself as X shipper, and you act like a whiny brat, or you're a moron to other people, you're going to ruin the reputation of your ship to others' eyes.

If you love your ship so much, better trying to behave in public. (Which is the reason why I don't go around the internet commenting here and there "what a stupid idea!", "are you dumb or what?!", "I can't believe you wrote that, are you five???"; not because I want to be a good person. Nope. Because I don't want to ruin my otp. That's love. And maybe slightly concerning).

And this is why, my dear anon, I'm not going to tell you which shippers I find annoying.

Instead, I'm going to tell you which behaviors I do:

Not understading the source material and not being humble enough to listen to people who have actually read all of it;

Twisting the canon to make it fit for your ship or headcanons; we're not talking about "interpretation", I saw with my eyes people who can't even read a panel of a manga. I hope they're twelve or something, because anything above twenty is concerning.

whining babies who need attention; "why everyone likes this ship? why nobody likes this? Why everyone is so mean to me? I only said you suck because you like X, I don't understand! nobody understands me and my very intellectual thoughts". Guys, everyone with a bit of salt in their brain laughs at you.

not being able to make critical analysis of the story or character, ending up with reading everything through your "emotional immature" glasses.

Look, it's simple. There's a difference between giving an opinion, and being a dick. If you can't understand it, maybe you need some time to grow up.

To conclude, I want to clarify that I am very open to talk about ideas, headcanons, characters analysis, even in very critical ways. I don't shy away from giving my very frank and honest opinion about these matters, and to say what I like, what I dislike, and what I hate with all my heart.

But I'm not gonna point my finger to a generic group of people in public. I will rant with my trusted friends in private setting, as it should be.

And if someone write some kind of bullshit that doesn't suit well with me, I'm going to reply directly to them. And not to make them change idea (it's useless with some people), but to give to the readers another point of view.

I hope the answer has satisfied you, anon.

See you next time, space anon.

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter two: incheon mall tube tops

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.5K

notes: i really hope you guys are enjoying namjoon’s story! i think there will only be one more chapter after this.  and like a true unfocused writer i started daydreaming about a yoongi one-shot to go with it? gah, nevermind.  i really hope you guys like this and i’d love to hear how you feel one way or another.  a huge thanks to my amazing beta @hobi-gif​ who does a hell of a lot more than just find typos.  and all of my love has to go out to @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna​ @taetaewonderland​ because all three of you are so much more than tumblr friends.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

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

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to hide your sadness, Namjoon saw it.

It didn’t matter how many hushed calls you tried to sneak, or how many smiles you tried to force -- Namjoon saw right through your act from the very beginning.  He’d seen enough to know that you were facing some kind of personal battle. He understood enough about you to know that you were far too private to bring it up or ask for help.

He should have asked.

The question sat heavy on the tip of his tongue for weeks.  He should have asked on the days he would spot you at your desk, fingers pressed to your temples in frustration.  Or on the days when he would catch you staring out the window, mind a million miles away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be driven to distraction by the way your blouses fit perfectly against the lines of your body. The way your pencil skirts hugged the curve of your hips. How soft your hair looked pulled into the low, loose knot you favored.

He found himself stumbling over his words when you’d quietly slip into meetings to deliver an urgent message or he’d drift off in the middle of conversations just because he’d caught sight of you outside his office door.

So it wasn’t long before what started as a preoccupation turned into a full-blown fixation.

You’d turn up at his request, poised and professional as always -- and he’d be lost in thought, defiling you a thousand different ways in his head.  Fantasizing about getting his hands on you, his mouth on you, his teeth on you.

You didn’t deserve that.

That’s why Namjoon kept his mouth shut -- stuck in a maddening cycle of wanting to help you, wanting to know you, just wanting you.

All of it made him feel guilty as hell.

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

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

Namjoon has yet to figure out how she manages to be underfoot at the most inconvenient times and simultaneously nowhere to be found when she’s needed.  She misplaces files and misses calls and forgets assigned tasks altogether. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s passed her desk to find her taking pictures of herself; lips pouted, angle skewed.

Two weeks ago, she was probably selling tube tops at Incheon Mall and now she’s playing gatekeeper to one of the most powerful men in Seoul.  So it’s not her fault that she’s woefully unprepared for this job.

And it’s not her fault that she’s not you.

Namjoon has spent the better part of the morning debating the call he’s about to make, picking up the phone and setting it back down at least half a dozen times.  But he’s at the end of his rope, running out of patience and options.

So he swallows his pride and picks up the phone just one more time.  

You answer on the first ring.

“Mister Kim.”

God, he’s missed the sound of your voice.  

“Good morning,” he starts carefully, clearing his throat. “I’m certain you have a lot on your plate but I was wondering if you could come sit with the new girl for a few minutes.  She’s struggling a bit.”  

The line is quiet for a moment and Namjoon can practically hear your thoughts on the other end of the line.  The ones that say well that’s what you get for replacing your perfectly competent assistant with a child.

“I left notes,” is the quiet reply that comes instead.

“You did.”

“Detailed notes. Written, detailed notes.”

“Yes,” Namjoon agrees, rubbing his fingers across his mouth.  “I’m certain they were quite detailed.  It’s just that she’s having trouble following those notes because --”  

“Because she can’t read?”

Namjoon cringes.  Any small hope he had that you weren’t taking your reassignment personally dies with the abrupt delivery of that statement.

“Apparently not,” he admits lamely.

He hears the quiet sigh you take in before answering.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

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

There’s a moment -- just after Seokjin has walked through his office door -- when Namjoon catches a glimpse of you.

You are leaned over the new girl’s desk, lips pursed, pointing something out on the computer screen.  Namjoon freezes when you look up and lock eyes with him just as the door swings shut.

Christ, is he ever going to be able to look at you without feeling like he’s had the wind knocked out of him?

He turns to find Seokjin staring at him, one brow raised.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon exhales, shoving a hand through his hair as he walks back to his desk.  “I’m fine. You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“I do,” Seokjin starts, helping himself to a seat. “Two things, actually. Both pertaining to the amazing new assistant you so generously gifted me.”

Namjoon’s nails dig into the palm of his hand.

“Go on.”

“Apparently she’s some kind of whiz with numbers,” Seokjin continues, unbothered by his strained response.  “I gave her a few of the books to look over and she already found a couple of our guys in the Songpa district skimming off the top. I’ll bet there’s even more where that came from and she’ll find it.  She’s got a good eye.”

Namjoon feels pride stir in his chest.  Yet again, you exceed expectations.  

“Send Yoongi and Hoseok to Songpa tonight,” he murmurs.  “I’ll be curious to hear what kind of explanation our friends come up with for their lapses in accounting.”

Seokjin nods.

“Will do.  So the other thing --” he pauses for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out how to carefully deliver what he has to say next.  “I know you asked me to try and figure out what’s going on with her and I think I have.  You’re right, she’s struggling with some personal issues.”

Namjoon leans forward in his chair, body rigid.

“Let me hear it.”

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

YOU

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

You have yet to figure out why she can’t work the printers or can’t read a simple spreadsheet when you know for fact she knows how to beam her selfies all the way to the goddamned moon.

It’s infuriating.

Just like it’s infuriating to see her seated at what should be your desk, doing what should be your job, working for the man who should be your boss.  

Figure shit out, you’d love to tell her.  Sink or swim, that’s how the real world works.  

The idea of letting her fail so dismally that Namjoon has no choice but to beg for you back is tempting.  But then he’d picked up the phone to personally ask you to help.

And apparently you are incapable of denying that man anything.

You’ve stayed late every day this week to review the spreadsheets Seokjin has given you to audit because of the extra time you’ve had to put aside to help the new girl navigate foreign concepts like filing and scheduling.

The numbers tell an interesting story.

The rumors about Kim Namjoon’s skill as a businessman don’t give him enough credit.  Money is pouring into the Gajog, hand over fist, from every major district in the city.  Billions of won flow into the organization from legitimate and not as legitimate revenue streams alike.  Combine the numbers and Kim Namjoon controls an empire worth trillions.

You stare at the sums and your mind flips back to your unexpected pay raise. It’s no wonder Namjoon can afford to be so generous.

It’s no wonder so many of the street-level men who work for him seem to be helping themselves to more than their fair share.  

It took you a few days to identify the patterns, comparing the new intake sheets to the old ones, but once you did the missing money practically jumped off the page.  Just a few audits in and you’d already been able to find at least 119 million won unaccounted for.

The Kim Namjoon you know is reserved and unflappable -- but this is information that’s bound to piss even him off.  

What is a man like him like when he’s angry?

You shudder at the thought.

Before long, the night sky stares back at you from the window across from your desk and you decide it’s well past time you went home.  You sort everything into neat piles and leave yourself organized notes before packing up to leave.

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

There’s no answer from your mother when you call to her from the hallway.  

You frown as you make your way to her bedroom, worry melting away when you find her asleep in her chair.  Her head is bent at a sharp angle, and you immediately move to help her prop her up.

Her eyes open to slits, unfocused from sleep and medication.

“Ttal,” she whispers, grimacing as she straightens out the crick in her neck.

“Eomma,” you whisper in a hushed rebuke. “We’ve talked about this.  You can’t fall asleep in this chair, it’s terrible for you.”

She nods slowly, pointing to a glass of water on her nightstand.  You hand it to her, but it wobbles in her weak grip and you take hold of it to help her drink before setting it aside.

“I’m hurting tonight,” she admits.  

“I know,” you sigh, heart breaking. “Come, let me help you into bed.”

The process is painstaking.  You help hoist her frail frame out of the chair and over to the side of the bed then work carefully to help her lie back.  There’s no meat on her anymore, just skin and bones, so you tuck her blankets carefully around her legs and arms until you’re certain she’s not shivering anymore.

You know this isn’t working.  

It doesn’t matter how many calls you make over the course of a day to check in, or how many well-meaning neighbors drop in to help, leaving your mother alone for hours in this state is a dangerous gamble.  

You fight back tears of frustration.  You grew up without siblings and your father has been gone for years. Being alone is something you’ve had a long time to get used to.  

But you’ve still never felt as alone as you do right now.

You think in the quiet for a while, stroking your fingers across your mother’s upturned palm, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.  

Unsure of what comes next.

“Kim Namjoon grew up to be such a handsome man,” your mother rasps.

The steady stroke of your fingers comes to an abrupt halt as the fine hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse me?”

Your mother doesn’t repeat herself.

“Eomma,” you urge, nudging her hand with yours.  “What is this talk of Kim Namjoon?”

Her lips quirk when she closes her eyes like she’s recalling a pleasant memory.

“His mother was beautiful,” she breathes quietly. “God smiled on that boy. He looks nothing like his father.”

The dull panic that’s already started to pulse in your chest sharpens to a point.

She has to be hallucinating.  

She has to be taking too much medicine because nothing she’s saying makes any sense.  You fumble for the bottles on her nightstand, pulling off the caps and pouring the pills out onto the tabletop.  You count them over and over until you’re satisfied your mother hasn’t taken a dangerous amount of drugs.

“Eomma, why are you talking about Kim Namjoon?” you plead. “Help me understand.”

But when you look back to your mother, you realize your words are already falling on deaf ears. She’s slipped back into a sleep state once again.

If only it were that easy for you.

When you finally get to crawl into bed a short while later, you toss and turn all night.  

Somewhere in the haze between asleep and awake you dream of Kim Namjoon.

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

Your mother’s mental clarity is always better in the morning.  

After she’s had a night of rest -- and whatever medicine she’s taken has had some time to wear off -- she’s much more alert, much more like her old self.  But you still weren’t able to get anything by way of answers out of her as you made breakfast this morning.

You’d made her favorite cold cucumber soup before carefully broaching the subject of last night’s strange conversation.  You’d waited patiently for some kind of explanation about why she mentioned a man she hasn’t spoken of in years.

It didn’t come.

There was something odd about the way your mother went completely quiet at your mention of Namjoon.  Something odd about how adamant she was about not having any memory of the conversation at all.

That odd look on her face is the one thought on your mind as you make your way to work in a complete fog.  You slip into an open elevator and hit the button for your floor on autopilot.

You don’t even realize that you’re not alone until a soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I remember you.”

Your eyes flick up from their unseeing stare at your shoes to a young woman standing against the elevator’s back wall.  

“Miss Kim,” you breathe, brushing an errant hair out of your face.  Your cheeks are still stinging from the cold. “Good morning.”

Namjoon’s sister is a beautiful woman, without a doubt — but until this moment, you hadn’t realized how much she resembles her brother.  They have the same striking features, the same smooth skin and high cheekbones and full lips.  

They share the same dark, kind eyes.

“I remember you now,” she repeats, mouth curving into a smile.  “I knew I recognized you, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I finally connected the dots.”

“Well, I wasn’t around a lot when we were kids,” you admit shyly. “So that’s certainly understandable.”

“That’s true,” she agrees.  “And I try not to think back to those times a lot but you made an impression on me.  You were always so sweet.”

Your cold cheeks seem to warm at her compliment.

“Thank you.”

The elevator stops at her floor but she seems reluctant to end the conversation.  She leans against the door to prop it open.

“My brother,” she asks carefully, “Is he treating you well?  Is he a fair boss?”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Well, he’s not my boss anymore,” you admit.  “He replaced me not long ago.  But yes, he was very fair when I worked for him.”

Her lips part in a soft gesture of surprise when you deliver that news.  

She’s quiet until the elevator blares a loud reminder that it’s time to close the doors.  She smiles at you on her way out the door, opting not to comment on the quality of her brother’s staffing decisions.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmurs. “But I’m still really glad you’re here.”

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

An inviting scent is the first thing you notice when you get home that night.  

The second thing you notice are the voices.

You make your way down the long hallway with careful steps, trying to place the sound of the voice coming from your mother’s bedroom.  It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Sim -- in fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

You stop short at the sight that greets you when you round the corner.

A woman -- a complete stranger is in your mother’s room.

You stand frozen in shock as you watch the stranger read to your mother from her seated position in the chair next to the bed.  She looks up from the page when she realizes you’re there, giving you a better look at her pleasant, aged face.

“Aish,” she startles, clapping a hand over her chest.  “Here I was, worried about scaring you and instead you’re the one giving me a fright.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Forgive me,” you start weakly, “But who are you?  And how did you get into this house?”

The woman stands to adjust the pillow under your mother’s head before meeting you in the doorway.  “She’s resting now,” she says, nodding at your mother’s still form on the bed.  “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”

Should you be screaming right now? Calling the police?  

There’s no good explanation for why you do neither and decide instead to follow this complete stranger into your kitchen instead.  She walks to the stove to stir whatever she has cooking in the pot.

“Get off those feet,” she admonishes kindly. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Again you comply, inexplicably following orders.  

“I made Budae Jjigae,” she explains, ladling some of the stew into a bowl.  She sets it down in front of you, and you stare back at her like an idiot.  The stew smells amazing, and you’re immediately hit with a well-timed hunger pang.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“My name is Jinjoo,” she replies sweetly, handing you a spoon.  “And I work for you now.”

“You work for me,” you repeat slowly.

“I do,” Jinjoo nods.  “Mister Kim hired me.”

The spoon clatters loudly against the lip of the bowl when you drop it.  For a moment, it’s hard to breathe. You have to wait for the strange sensation that snakes up your spine to subside before you speak again.

“Mister Kim.”  You echo her again, dumbly.

Jinjoo takes a seat next to you at the table, radiating a patient kindness that makes you want to give into the urge to trust her.  She smiles reassuringly at you, voice soothing when she speaks again.

“Yes. He said you needed help with your mother, and I can understand why.  I nursed in hospitals for decades, dear.  I can see your mother is in a bad way.”

You blink back at Jinjoo in stunned silence.

“I assure you, I’ll give your mother the best quality care,” she vows, patting one of your hands with her own.  “And Mister Kim has already paid me well in advance, so don’t even think about trying to get rid of me.”

That statement almost makes you laugh.  

You don’t want to get rid of Jinjoo at all.  Ten minutes ago you had no idea she existed and in the span of one conversation she’s become one of the most important people you know.  Tears well in your eyes as you stare into your bowl of stew, at a total loss for words.  

Jinjoo seems to sense how overwhelmed you are.  She gives you some space to process what’s going on, stroking one soft hand over your shoulder when she stands to leave.

“Eat something, dear.  I’m gonna go sit with your mother for a while.”

You look up at her with watery eyes and nod, reaching for the spoon.

“This smells really good,” you say softly.

“Well, I’m a great cook.  You’ll see,” she promises.

“Jinjoo -- “ you call out after her as she walks away.  “Thank you,” you manage, voice thick with emotion.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle when her mouth curves into a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

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

Jinjoo’s stew was delicious -- not that you had the chance to fully appreciate it.  

You’d sat in that kitchen alone for some time, eating slowly while you tried to process yet another bombshell in what seemed to be a series of them.  Everything that’s happened to you since Namjoon reassigned you has been a whirlwind; from the sudden pay raise to the sudden arrival of Jinjoo.

You eat the last of the stew with your stomach in knots.

Namjoon knows your mother is sick.  And you don’t know how to feel about it.

A part of you feels exposed when you think about him uncovering the sad details of your mother’s health battle. But knowing that he stepped in to help you fight it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in years.  

Cared for.

The sound of laughter from your mother’s bedroom echoes down the hall and you stand to follow it.  

Her favorite variety show is playing on the small TV in front of her bed, and it appears Jinjoo is a fan, too.  You lean in the doorway and watch the women giggle at the silly skit.  It’s been a long time since you’ve heard the sound of your mother’s laugh.  

It makes you smile.

“Jinjoo, could you give us a moment, please?”

You almost hate to interrupt the instant camaraderie between the two women but you recognize that your mother is in the midst of a rare moment of clarity.  You have to strike while the iron is hot.

“Of course,” she agrees, standing.

You wait until the sound of her footsteps fades away before taking her place in the worn chair next to your mother’s bed.  Your mother smiles at you, taking one of your hands into her own.  

You squeeze her fingers gently.

“Eomma, no more secrets,” you murmur.  “Tell me the truth.  Did Kim Namjoon come here?”

Your mother swallows thickly before nodding.

“He asked me not to tell you,” she admits.  “He said he didn’t want you to refuse his help.”

You shut your eyes and imagine Namjoon in your home, in this room. Speaking to your mother.  Making plans to send Jinjoo.  Your chest squeezes so tight that for a moment it’s hard to breathe.

“Okay,” you concede quietly.  You maintain the appearance of careful calm because you don’t want to make your mother feel worse than she already does., “It’s alright Eomma, I’m not angry, I promise.”

A peculiar look passes over her face.  Her eyes dart away from yours and that’s all it takes for you to know you don’t have the full story.  You decide to toughen your stance.

“Look at me, Eomma,” you say firmly.  “If there’s anything I don’t know, you need to tell me right now.  I need to know all of it.  Everything.”

“I -- “

“Just tell me what it is,” you repeat, patience hanging by a thread.

Your mother sighs, lifting one weak hand in the direction of her dresser.  You turn to stare at the pile of papers stacked there, realization dawning in an instant.  You move on unsteady legs to walk over and take hold of them.

Radiology, pulmonology, chemotherapy.  

You know exactly how much is owed on each of those bills because the numbers are burned into your mind. Those numbers are the reason you leave your mother for hours on end every day to go to work.  Those numbers are the reason why it’s so hard to sleep at night.

You don’t realize that your hands are shaking until you hear the papers rustling.

Every bill bears the same neat, handwritten marking.

paid -- knj

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

NAMJOON

Namjoon watched his sister leave early tonight with Hoseok. Seokjin is out to dinner with his wife.  And Yoongi is off doing -- well, whatever the hell Yoongi does when he’s not around.

There’s no one here tonight to tell Namjoon to go home.  No one to point out that he’s had too much to drink or that it’s happening far too often.

So he pours another scotch.

The glass sweats in his hand as he stands in front of his window, deep in thought.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about the way you struggled in silence, caring for your mother alone -- too proud to ask for help. The way you catered to Namjoon’s every need and whim without ever making mention of yours.  The way he’d let it go on for far too long, selfishly wrapped up in the way you made him feel.

“That girl is going to get you killed.”

Namjoon tells himself the sound of your voice is a figment of his imagination, an entirely predictable side-effect of too much scotch.  But it’s followed quickly by your soft footsteps against the plush carpet in his office and both sounds are too real to ignore.

He turns to assess you, quietly sipping his drink.

Fuck, you are beautiful.  

You have no right turning up here tonight -- looking like that -- testing him when he is at his weakest.  Your dark eyes flash with something like a challenge and Namjoon feels his blood warm.

“That girl is never at her desk and she has no idea who’s coming or going,” you accuse quietly.  “She’s putting you at risk.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow half-smirk that teases the edge of his mouth.

“Perhaps,” he admits.  “But there are different kinds of risk.  Maybe you put me at risk, too.”

He shouldn’t take pleasure from the way your eyes go wide at that statement.  Or from the way you overcompensate by standing taller, chin lifted high.

But he does.

“Mister Kim -- “ you start.

“ -- Namjoon,” he interrupts.  “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Namjoon? Haven’t we known one another since we were kids?”

“Namjoon,” you correct yourself, taking a deep breath. “I know about everything.  Jinjoo, the bills, all of it.”

Namjoon says nothing for a moment, draining his glass before setting it down on his desk with a heavy thud.

“Why?” you ask quietly.  “Why did you do this for me?”

Because I would do anything for you.  

He doesn’t voice that thought out loud.  He knows he shouldn’t.

But he also knows he shouldn’t be closing the distance between you right now, and he’s doing that anyway.  He steps closer, quietly, and you swallow hard, thrown by his silence and his advance.

“That’s not -- that’s not something you do for an employee,” you protest, slowly backing away.  You stop only when the ledge of his desk hits you on the backside.  

“The late nights and the extra hours.  Everything else you did,” Namjoon murmurs, stepping close, chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.  “Did you do that for your boss?  Or did you do that for me?”

He leans closer, caging your body against his desk.  Your lips part in surprise and Namjoon forces himself not to react when your tongue slips out to wet them.

“Namjoon, I -- ” your voice is barely above a whisper when you find it.  “-- I don’t understand you right now.”

“How could I have every resource at my fingertips and not help you?” he asks, reaching one hand out to cup your face.  The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips and you shudder under his touch.  “Why didn’t you come to me when you knew I could help?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pupils blown and cheeks flushed.

“You should have come to me,” he admonishes quietly.  You lean into the touch of his hand.  “I would have given you anything you asked for. Anything.”

“I understand that,” you say quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.  “Because I would give you anything you asked for, too.”

Something about the way you say that snaps Namjoon back to reality.  

He looks down at you like he’s only just now realized that he’s loaded on scotch, leaning you over his desk -- and well on his way to taking advantage of this situation.  He tenses, pulling away.

“This is -- this is not --” he sputters pathetically for a moment.  “Go home,” he pleads.  “Please.”

He’s never hated himself as much as he does right now -- when you’re looking up at him with hurt and confusion in those wide, dark eyes.

“Go home before I do something I can’t take back.”

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

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Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...