#again pointing out that i don’t think a term is needed (though will also note serrano who coined the term transmisogyny has herself said a

[fiapple]

but also like literally want to emphasize the “including other trans people” part of that last addition. like there is a reason the times i’ve personally written posts about the issues with how tmes speak over transfems regarding transmisogyny in the name of “having our own terms” or the issues with the trans mra movement, i get anons positioning my motives within the realm of trans women’s fuckability by other tme people. & that’s still nothing compared to what transfeminine users on here go through while trying to self advocate .

[cassandraclare]

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

  When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher.  it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore. 

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;) 

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say  it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

[angelsdxmise]

METANOIA

Pt. 2 to ORPHIC

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 when Bakugou is paired with a girl that’s not spared a glance for a project, he wants to explode. Why does his mind keep going blank when he looks at you then?

Contains: tiny bit of angst, readers a little hopeless, imagine the rest urself, there might be profanity idk i dont remember

a/n: 2.7k words 😔 plz consider reblogging and sending requests! btw pls remember italics mean reader is thinking. enjoy the fic ❤️

Your dorm room matched your personality somehow, and then again, it didn’t. 

It had posters, a TV, and a bookshelf filled with figures from your favorite mangas, decorative sculptures everywhere, and classic LEDs. Your room seemed to also have a main color, which was black. Though it managed to maintain some color. 

Thank the gods you had cleaned your room when you finished eating, because if you hadn’t it would’ve been very much flammable. You usually wouldn’t be worried about it, but since someone who has quite a destructive quirk turned up to your dorm demanding to be let in, you felt relieved.

A low, calming rhythm played on your speaker as you reviewed your slides. An herbal incense flooded your senses as you relaxed. You were so calm that you almost forgot Bakugou was next to you.

“Hey, I think you forgot to add my quirk’s drawbacks.” You flatly spoke. You never looked away from your laptop as your brows furrowed in utter concentration. You moved your hair out your face, slightly fanning yourself as you breathed out short huffs. You closed your balcony doors and turned your fan off to have your incense earlier, which you may have regretted.

Bakugou held back a long groan as he added another slide. “Tell me what they are.” He grumbled in a stale tone. He wanted to plug his nose and ears since he wasn’t used to such a strong smell. While you explained your quirk drawbacks and the reason for them, he cut you off in the middle of the sentence to ask,

“Is that a Rob Zombie poster?” 

Your head perked up in acknowledgment as you lost focus due to your zeal. Does he like Rob Zombie? Am I dreaming right now? “Uh, yeah.. do you--do you not like him?” You stammered out. A pang of shame ran through you, he was just a boy with a bad temper. There’s no point in being so scared.

“Why else would I be asking about it?!” He yelled, which put a beaming smile on your face. “Sorry! You don’t—I mean, you just surprised me!” You quickly explained, “I can play some of his songs, or you could just put your own playlist on my speaker.”

You took his phone and connected it to the speaker which temporarily paused your music, and handed it back to him which he aggressively snatched. Once he finally picked a playlist after scrolling endlessly, you actually ended up having similar music tastes. “I never took you for someone who liked a lot of rock bands, but for some reason, I’m not that surprised.” You played with the bracelets on your wrists as you admitted the last part of your sentence.

Bakugou took note of this and took his fingers off his keyboard. “You’ve learned something new then.” He shut his laptop and put his study supplies in the bag. Your voice made him pause for a moment. “Could you uh, send me the playlist? You don’t have to, I just like your taste.” 

He set his bag down and looked at you. “Give me your phone number.” He abruptly said, taking you off guard. “Huh?!” 

“I need your number to send the link, dumbass!” He snatched your phone out of your hands and made a new contact of himself. He didn’t even bother giving it a name. He kept muttering words you couldn’t make out, so you felt a little scared. When he stood, you quickly called out a thank you which he acknowledged with a small wave before closing your door.

At the sound of your door closing, you just sat there processing what happened. A smile didn’t leave your face and you didn’t feel any shame to force it to go away. Days like this were unusual for someone like you. Being on good terms with the most hot-headed student at UA. It’s best to say you had a peaceful sleep that night.

For once you had hope for your school life. Maybe you could save your social life a little. But, of course, your desires seem impossible to reach once you return to class. 

Your head rested against your desk as one of your hands reached down to pull your tights down, then came back up to cover your ear. It seems today was a cheerful day for the others as you overheard many of them talking about how their project would get full scores for how lucky they were with their partners.

Then, there were the booming voices of annoying teenage boys. Especially Mineta. You felt like you should start wearing pants to school in fear of him crawling under your desk and violating you in every way possible. Is this what Hell is like? Am I in the deepest circle?

Thankfully the class had quieted down immediately when Aizawa burst through the Class 1-A doors that were ginormous for some apparent reason. His voice made your head lift up in a stalled manner, as you felt sluggish today. You had been skipping on your nightly skincare, so your eyebags were still a little noticeable. 

You set your head in your palm as you wrote what you could manage, but ended up dozing off near the last hours. Even with a good sleep, you still managed to be exhausted. It’s difficult to live. 

You and your mom had left your dad and moved to Musutafu. You had to take what you could get when you got accepted into U.A. Honestly, you felt envious of people such as Yaoyorozu and Aoyama. You never really bought from designer brands when times were rough, and your mother had to alternate jobs.

As school ends and you’re on your way back to the dorms, you decide to take a quick walk down to any convenience store you can find. You held onto the strap of your backpack as you walked into the closest one, your eyes scanning for some bento sets. 

Once your eyes had landed on them, you selected one and made sure you had enough money to spare after purchasing it. Usually, the cashier for this store was shitty and had an attitude for no reason. But of course, you didn’t know his life so you tried to not judge. 

Confusion took hold of your senses as you didn’t see any cashier there. Oh well. You placed half the amount the bento costs on the counter, not necessarily stealing it, but giving what you felt he deserved. You put the rest of your money in your backpack’s side pocket as you made your way back to your dorm. 

A long walk is an understatement. It felt like 10 years was what it took to walk up that hill, wiping your forehead constantly as short huffs came from your throat. You opened the door to the dorms and darted straight for the elevator. The cool air made you relax for a moment before a beep came, and your feet dragged you out.

You woke up as your eyes spotted a small pouch sitting in front of your door. What’s this?.. you mused for a minute before picking it up and opening the door, a sudden warmth hitting your skin as you reached for your fan. You shut the door behind you as you hurriedly sat on your bed to open it up.

You reached for a small note that was inside which read, “I don’t know how you handle that herbal shit, use this.” Oh, it came from Bakugou. Your hands found another item, a cylinder-shaped object that made your eyes brighten in excitement as you quickly pulled it out.

He got me incense! An expensive one at that, no way! You flipped the incense packaging around, which read ‘Kitowa’. 

You stood to turn your fan off and went to your nightstand to replace your current incense with the gifted one. Once your lighter’s flame had hit the tip of the incense stick, a light woody smell filled your room which made your body slump and release a huge breath you didn’t know you were holding.

I should send him a thanks, it’s the least I could do. You reached over for your phone and opened his contact. You quickly typed out a ‘thank you for the incense Bakugou! It smells really nice.’ and stared at your message for a moment. You were pondering over your own message, and also making the realization that you were nervous.

You were genuinely nervous and giddy at the same time to send this text. You got over it anyway and made haste to throw your phone across the bed before kicking your shoes off and face-planting into your pillow. You didn’t make an effort to change as you succumbed to the exhaustion.

A loud knock woke you up, your eyes didn’t open as you sat up, trying to process what was going on. Another loud knock sounds and your eyes shoot open. What the hell? “Coming!” you groan out as you stand from your bed. Stumbling over your shoes and bag you reach your door, opening the handle. You’re met with the face of Bakugou. Okay, I’m definitely awake now..

“Change your clothes. There’s dinner downstairs and you haven’t come down at all.” His jagged voice interrupted your thoughts. “Wait—whaaa?..” You muttered, rubbing your eyes. “Hurry up.” He grabs the handle and closes your door.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the fattest grin on your face after he closed your door. You dug through your clothes, throwing on a pair of black sweatpants and a misfits band shirt. You grabbed your phone and stopped for a moment as you looked at the notification.

***: it's no problem 4:03 P.M.

***: where the hell are you? dinners been ready for 10 minutes come down 6:47 P.M.

He ended up coming to your dorm 5 minutes after he sent the last message. You put some socks on before opening your door up again, and you tried to swallow down the lump in your throat as you saw Bakugou with his back leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed.

His signature frown was still plastered across his face as his eyes set on you. “Move your feet faster, extra.” He rasped out, already heading for the elevator, you quickly followed behind and attempted to make an effort to hide the shock on your face.

He somewhat punched the common room button, and you flinched when he did.

He pressed the button to close the doors more gently.

The ride down was a bit awkward, but you found comfort in the silence. Once the doors had opened, you walked out behind him. He grabbed your wrist suddenly and leisurely pulled you to his side as he kept walking, never letting go until you made it to the kitchen.

A few classmates noticed and pointed it out to the rest, as you lightly scratched the back of your neck in embarrassment. I guess I’d be staring too if I saw someone with such a bad temper hanging around me. you thought as you grabbed a bowl. “Get me one too.” Bakugou insisted, and you stopped for a second. Reaching your other hand up, you said, “You haven’t eaten yet?” as you grabbed the second bowl and set it down. 

“I’m just grabbing seconds,” He began to fill his bowl as he glanced at you. “Everyone’s already eaten. The losers are gonna do a movie night.” Your eyes lost their light at the sound of that. Of course, nobody told you. You drowned in your own dismal as you filled up your bowl with food. The smell made you feel slightly better, but it was nowhere near happy.

Once you were done, you turned to Bakugou. “Thanks for bringing me down, I’m just gonna head back upstairs.” You spoke in a brittle voice, and before you could reach the elevator you heard his footsteps coming from behind you. You could tell he made an effort to catch up.

He didn’t turn his eyes to you or offer an explanation after he pressed his floor's button, and didn’t allow you to go to yours. You frowned, “What’re you doing?” He finally looks at you. “Back to my dorm.”

whaa.. HUH?

“Wait—what?” You couldn’t process his sudden words as he took your wrist once more in his free hand, dragging you along with him to his dorm. He opened his door and ushered you to the bed before closing it.

You reluctantly sat down, as it was the second and only time you’d been in his dorm for any purpose other than school. He sighed as he sat down with his back against the bed frame, and pulled his laptop out from his bag.

“If you don’t sit next to me, you’re not gonna be able to watch the movie, you idiot.” His words made your ears blaze with heat and you carefully scooted next to him, making sure not to spill any food. “Got anything you wanna watch?” He asked as he took a bite of the hotpot.

“Hmm.,” Your eyes drifted to the side as you thought, “What about The Florida Project?” You suggested, “It’s not on Netflix, we’d probably have to find a random website to watch it.” 

He smiled faintly, he’s seen that before and so have you. “I’m fine with that.” His tone was softer as he clicked away to find a website to watch the movie. As he pressed play you scooted a tiny bit closer to watch it.

Midway through the movie you both finished your bowls and made slight comments on every scene, and he evilly laughed at most of the sad scenes while you scolded him for it.

As the movie reached the end, you had been leaning against him with your head on his shoulder. He had one hand behind his head and the other resting against his thigh. You nearly cried.

As the movie finished, you fell asleep against him. He abandoned the movie a while ago, but not on purpose. He took a little time to think about you since you’d been running around his mind without consent anyway.

Not only were you pretty, but your personality seemed to be a calming point for him. You, yourself, seemed to tell him to chill. You liked similar things, and you introduced him to incense which he secretly had on his shelf, above his bed. He had also ended up putting in orders for a few new posters after seeing your room.

He took the chance of your sleeping state to quietly shut off his laptop and hesitantly reached his hand around your body to rest it on your hip. He rested his head against yours as he rubbed small circles on your skin.

You shifted a little and his heart jumped, not wanting you to think he was some sort of pervert. Bakugou was slightly sure that his classmates were asleep, so he decided to carry you back to your dorm.

You awoke the next morning in your bed, sluggishly rising up and stretching as your joints popped. 4:32 read the time, and you definitely couldn’t go back to sleep now. You decided to take the extra time and get ready for school.

You smoothed out your skirt as you took your seat, and this time you didn’t rest your head in your palm. You felt like you finally rested your body. Your eyes darted up as you heard a thud in front of you. It was.. Bakugou?

He crashed into the seat in front of you, putting his elbows on your desk and turning his body to you. “Let’s uh.. study at that new cafe that opened up.” He looked away as he huffed the words out, suddenly interested in the outside world.

Is he asking me on a date or something? “Oh.. I mean,” His heart dropped and his brows furrowed as you started to talk. He had doubts about you saying no, and it seemed they were coming true.

“Sure.. I was gonna ask you, actually.” You giggled, setting your hands on the desk as you tapped your nail occasionally against it. He turned back to you, and he had a genuine smile plastered across his face as he didn’t leave this time immediately. He stayed, and he talked with you.

And he would do it many, many more times.

pls do not post anywhere w/out permission

[silvergreenseraphim]

The First Soldier’s/Glenn Lodbrok’s Relevance In Rebirth

—

Time for translations regarding the Glenn Lodbrok subplot in Rebirth.

Note: Once again, if anyone spots errors in my translations, please let me know!

Hello everyone! It’s been some time. Rebirth was amazing and Ever Crisis has been such a thrill to see unfold shortly after with so much new lore.

As it turns out, Mr. Glenn was very important! Our mystery hooded man was him all along.

Or was he? 🤭

This is an interesting side story in Rebirth that I can’t stop focusing on. The translations have been helpful. The Ultimania as well. I will reference both for this post.

For right now, a mix of these sources and the hints in the game all imply that it was Sephiroth revealing his will through one of the black-robed men. This would not be the first time he relied on “a vision represented by the cloaked figures.”

These extensions and visions of Sephiroth “stem from the will and conscience of Sephiroth that is at play here.”

He uses this ability to torment Cloud in Remake. In Rebirth, we can see him extending that power towards Rufus Shinra too.

Some debate this point, but let us take a look at Glenn’s introduction to Rufus where a very strange interaction occurs.

Tseng introduces “Glenn” to Rufus in Junon here:

“A messenger of Governor Suhur (Sufur) of Wutai would like to visit. Colonel Glenn Lodbrok.”

Rufus is startled, but lets the messenger in. We see what appears as Glenn Lodbrok. He is older than he looks in Ever Crisis and worn down. He also does not seem to wear much besides his heavy black cloak. Rufus sits up quickly with a surprised look. He is hit with a memory of shooting this same man in the back. Notably, the Glenn from the flashback features his Wutai garb and face. He is the Glenn of Ever Crisis.

Rufus: You’re alive?

Glenn: Most certainly dead.

Ultimania translation below:

When Rufus questions Glenn’s survival, the latter has a fit of laughter and responds with the evident truth. He is dead. Rufus can only presume this to be a joke, but the Ultimania questions this bit of humor.

Looking at this through the lens of it being Sephiroth’s will in front of Rufus, we could chuckle at his honesty. He tells Rufus the truth from the moment they meet.

But that can wait! Onto business:

“Glenn” begins to speak on the matters of Wutai and Shinra. I must note that the Japanese VA’s performance is perfect. This is not the rugged and brash Glenn of Ever Crisis. He is a theatrical announcer and speaks to Rufus as though they are planning a grand show.

He says,

“Now, President Rufus. I assume you will be taking over the vision that my Governor and the President shared?”

Rufus responds, “I intend to.”

And here are Glenn’s plans to set the stage. He gestures with flair.

“The theme of this next era will be the war over Huge Materia. Shinra and Wutai maintain tensions as through repeating clashes in various places.”

An acknowledgement of the pointless war of Wutai and Shinra, but Rufus has other plans.

“That’s fine for a while. However, the president died…and the situation has changed. We need a new vision.”

At this, Glenn sneers,

“You still love (drawing your visions), Bocchan (young master). Do you still believe in the Promised Land?”

Glenn is saying that Rufus prefers to run his own show, craft his own visions. He knows Rufus long and well for a defective colonel of Wutai.

Side note:

The term “bocchan” is explained here. In the context with Rufus, it is used to refer to a rich young master.

Glenn continues,

“Shinra’s father and son only think about pumping up Mako. If you don’t return it once in a while, the planet will die.”

Glenn returns focus to the war between Wutai and Shinra, along with its benefits. He says,

“The rage, sadness and hatred that war brings forth will spark the ultimate sense of solidarity and optimism. This spirit inspires the world, enriching the planet…”

I cannot say strongly enough that the ways that Glenn moves and his VA speak feel like direct mockery of how Shinra plots their political movements. Nothing is real or sincere. War is a show and tool that is used to create unity. Shinra and Wutai are actors on a stage that battle for audience favor.

All of the pain that war brings will cause people to rise up in unity together! This spirit of solidarity will enrich the planet’s life. Rufus looks uncertain and nearly bewildered in this scene, as if he cannot tell if Glenn is serious.

“It’s for the future of the planet. Let’s take this step before calamity.”

Glenn declares this with zeal, but Rufus protests.

“But—”

Glenn cuts him off.

“You started this. You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t just stop whatever you want.”

This line is difficult to translate with the correct nuance, but Glenn is saying that Rufus must grow up and face the consequences of the events he sets in motion. He cannot stop them because he feels like it. Glenn’s VA also loses his care-free charm for a moment. There is a dark, aggressive and dangerous tone here that betrays the deeper anger in these words.

That venom disappears after some silence and Glenn returns to his theatrics.

“Let’s deliver justice together.”

Before he leaves the room, Glenn turns with a mocking bow and congratulatory message.

“Aahh, I almost forgot about the message from Governor Sufur! Congratulations on your appointment as president! I wish you increasing growth!”

Glenn laughs at the transparent joke about Rufus being honored by a man of the same name spelt backwards and exits the room. Rufus is left feeling upset and humiliated.

——

This next scene I would like to include a video clip of because there are more hints about Glenn’s true identity here.

“(Your) dreams are still cute.”

Glenn sneers and laughs at Rufus for dreaming of the Promised Land. Rufus begins to see that “Glenn” is not what he seems. A figure wreathed in purple haze and darkness that appears from nowhere.

“What/who the hell are you?“

Glenn mock-pouts as though he is offended Rufus does not trust or know who he is.

“Don’t say it like that! (Don’t say mean things). I can see everything inside your head, Mr. President. You’re scared of me?”

With this, “Glenn” leans forward as if to peer inside the mind of Rufus. He points at what he detects.

“Uh oh, I can still see it! What’s that?”

“Glenn” lists the weaknesses inside Rufus.

“Fear, hatred, an inferiority complex in relation to your father….and the loneliness behind it all…”

“I won’t deny it. It’s all my driving force.”

Rufus is honest about his negative feelings and admits they are what motivate him. Glenn is pleased with this. After all, he had earlier mentioned how the painful spirit of war would strengthen the planet.

He says,

“Hey, that’s good! The planet needs a little bit of that bite right now. Enliven it with that power.”

Rufus is baffled and mutters to himself,

“Do you care about me that much?“

He can only wonder why this figure wants and needs to stir up his driving emotions so much.

——

(I have skipped Glenn’s TV speech because the dialogue was basically the same).

In our last scene, Rufus remembers his father and finally admits that the man was masterful.

“You were…amazing…”

Rufus is not alone. “Glenn” once again appears at his side. To Rufus’ statement he responds,

Me?

But no, “Ha. How could that be?”

More mockery. Moving on,

“So, you know Governor Suhur? (Sufur). He neglected an important press conference and we were humiliated.”

Rufus is cold and responds,

“The Governor will not stand on such a poor set.”

“Glenn” is annoyed.

“I see. Growing up a rich kid must be so difficult. Well, hey, it worked. The anti-Shinra warriors are on the move.”

Rufus has had enough. He ignores the theatrics and says something astute and strange.

“Hey Glenn…isn’t this war a toy/plaything to keep me away from Sephiroth?”

I still must praise Rufus for his intelligence, but…I do not know why he would assume Glenn was trying to aid and distract Shinra from Sephiroth. This bit is a mystery.

“Glenn” begins to clap proudly. He says,

“I was sure you’d find out.”

And then we see him. The true culprit and architect.

The voices of Sephiroth and Glenn meld together,

“But it’s already happening. Our “promised land” will be born. Good for you. You’ve surpassed your father.”

Sephiroth even sneers now about Rufus completing the dream of his father. The father he hated. Rufus stands his ground.

“I want the real thing.”

(A sentence with double meaning. He wants the real Promised Land. Not a fake. Just like how Sephiroth is playing a fake Glenn).

Sephiroth morphs back into Glenn and only says,

“Oh, don’t you think it’s fitting?”

When Rufus shoots “Glenn” in the back, history repeats. Sephiroth turns back one more time and uses the now-clear black robed man to get in the last word through Glenn’s voice.

“As good at shooting people in the back as always.”

Rufus empties his gun into the ghost.

Extra details from the Ultimania on the scene:

—

Dialogue from the Shinra board meeting scene on Glenn:

Scarlet: Then what about that Glenn-whatever?

Tseng: Glenn Lodbrok. 15 years ago, he participated in a geological survey on Rhadore. He left the army after the mission failed. 

Heidegger: Hmph, he has the air of a deserter. He’s spewing out lies!

Tseng: After, he traveled to various places. He seems to have made connections with people with anti-Shinra ideology around the country. 

———

There we are! After the conclusion of The First Soldier’s episode 1 arc, we now know what caused Glenn to defect. The death of Rosen and the Rhadorans was a crime against humanity too great for Glenn to ignore. He became an anti-Shinra warrior and politician. But how did he first meet “Sufur” and when did this same person (Rufus) shoot Glenn dead?

There are questions here we do not have answered. However, Sephiroth is a voice that provides a bitter commentary on what happened. Through Glenn he relentlessly mocks Rufus. Even in the Japanese translation. He succeeds in posing as Glenn and starting fresh fires between Wutai and Shinra to stir up the planet’s energy.

And on top of that there is a personal undertone to how Sephiroth behaves around Rufus. He mocks Rufus on a level equal to how he torments Cloud. It’s all very interesting.

I will share more analysis at another time!

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?  

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[starryriize]

Hey, My first request to you 💁🏻‍♀️ :

Can you do headcanons or short imagine to go ice skating with &Team even though s/o isn't good at doing that? You can decide whether it's a date or they'll go as a group but plis make it kinda romantically between each member and their s/o. 🫂

when their s/o isn’t good at skating | &team

╰┈ ⋆｡˚ 🪼 genre: fluff & really romantic!!

╰┈ ⋆｡˚ 🪼 pairing: bf! &team x fem! reader

╰┈ ⋆｡˚ 🪼 author's notes: ahhh anon i know exactly who you are 🤭 ilysm btw <3 but yes!! i changed my initial format of this bc i am not a skater but i am a klutz so i can relate fr

🫧laur’s taglist: @chiiyuuvv

— klutz squad (nico, taki, jo)

nico - oh boy is he laughing 😭 he’s definitely concerned as he tries to help you up but falls on his ass. you’re both on the ice cackling at each other and how out of balance you both are ! gives you his arm to steady yourself and it ends in you both acting like penguins on ice. gives you a little kiss on your forehead and squishes your cheeks bc you may be a klutz but you’re his klutz !!

taki - he’s…not laughing at you, i promise!! it’s just the way you fell was incredibly funny and you laugh at him when he defies all expectations of physics 😭 you guys opt to hold hands with each other but it’s doesn’t work as well as you hoped… you end up giving up on ice staking entirely after falling 5 times with taki going down with you !! tells you it’s okay and you end up sharing cocoa together :((

jo - immediately concerned that you fall so often but finds it funny bc you arranged the date…and you have the balance of a leaf :(( he bursts out giggling tho and proceeds to *purposely* fall to sympathize with you! 😭 he’s so cute tho and he really does try to help you!! like nico, gives you kisses all over your face and asks if he should kiss any places you hurt 🫶🏼 (pls i need kisses from jo) he also gets you some cocoa and holds your hand &lt;33

— immediately steadies you (k, ej, maki)

k - lowkey teases you when you fall right as you step on the ice !! gives you his arm to hold on to and steady yourself on ! also thinks you’re cute when you’re giggling at how much of a klutz you are 😭🫶🏼 puts! his! hand! on! your! waist! steadies you by holding you waist, making sure you’re fully upright (i love him sm)

ej - i feel like he goes into instant leader mode!! his eyebrows are creased and he’s next to you asking all sorts of questions. also believes that you can just hold onto him and gives you his arm to hold, or his hand, or his jacket! 😭 he’s chuckling to himself as you wobble and then fall right back down again! holds you close to his side and you guys just skate slowly together :(( thinks it’s very kdrama-esque to kiss in the middle of the rink 🫶🏼 (double points if you have to tiptoe in your skates)

maki - he’s both laughing and concerned for you! he wanted to take you roller skating in the summer but seeing your balance issues…he immediately decided he wouldn’t :(( i mean, your safety is important!! on the ground laughing and helps you up, offers to hold your waist behind you as you try to skate again 🫶🏼 don’t worry, once you both are home, he puts on a show and makes you your favorite dessert!

— teacher squad (fuma, yuma, harua)

fuma - he can do anything and everything atp so i think he would start teaching you how to balance yourself and how to gain momentum to start moving on the ice!! lowkey explains it in very simple terms but gets the point across 🫶🏼 puts his entire arm around your torso and you guys skate together in sync - albeit a little slow :(( kisses your cheeks when you make one circle around the rink and repeatedly says he loves you (he’s so sweet fr idc he’s a standard)

yuma - this is based on nothing but i think he’d be the type to teach you as well!! he might not know a lot about skating but he knows a lot about balance and control so he helps you stand up! takes it in steps and explains it similar to a dance choreography- kisses your forehead after every step and spins you in happiness 🤭 dips you and gives you an even better kiss :(( (stop i love him sm this is making me blush)

harua - i feel like he’s secretly good at surprising things…but he would immediately be like “okay so you place your feet like so”!! probably incredibly patient with you too :(( if you end up sad, he’ll probably be sad with you. teaches you to move around and i see him as the type to be lowkey romantic so he would spin you around! (this is too cute i’m giggling thinking abt this🤭)

**i do want to point out that all of them would probably check for any signs of you being hurt by the ice or if you’re in any immediate pain, hence why i didn’t add that into every member!!

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m writing a story about a lady with Down Syndrome. I was wondering if you knew where I can find any resources about Down Syndrome made by people who actually have it, or any organisations that would be good to follow. Any resources made by people with intellectual disability would be really helpful as well.

I read your post about this and it was really helpful so thank you, I’m going to use it as a starting point for my research.

If you’d like some context about the story she’s literally a lady in the 1920s who’s trying to get control of her family’s estate from her brother. Shes underestimated for her disabilities and for being a women but I’m trying to not focus so much on the discrimination and work more on giving her an interesting mystery to solve with the detective she hired. I’d like it to be a bit lighthearted. Anyway, as she’s a main character I really wanted to make sure I wrote her well. Thanks!

Hi!

There aren't many resources out there unfortunately, but there is a page on the UK Down Syndrome's Association's website where members with DS share their opinions on representation in TV and film! You can read it here. For info on intellectual disability in general the best I can do is link some of my previous posts on it - there's close to nothing that's actually made by us unfortunately, everything that I was able to find is always made by someone who knows a person with ID at best. To be clear, not all of it is bad - I thought this interview (TW for abuse that happens in the movie's plot) about a movie starring actors with DS was pretty good - but it's still a sign that we aren't getting enough #OwnVoices representation. It's slowly changing though!

To learn more about DS I would probably recommend NDSS, it's one of the very few orgs that have people with Down Syndrome as board and team members (should be the bare minimum, but it unfortunately isn't). There's also information on things like preferred language and myths that often show up around Down Syndrome!

I'm not great with history, but in the 1920s she would be a subject to a lot more than just discrimination. Eugenics and institutionalization would definitely be present. Not sure what route you'll take there, but basically all the words around that time that she would be described with are currently considered slurs or pejoratives. The racist term for a person with Down Syndrome was officially used into the 60s, and the ableist one is still used legally in 2024. But if you want to skip past that, I think that's more than fine. You don't always have to aim for 100% historical accuracy, just be aware of the real history.

A detective story sounds very exciting! If you decide to publish it on Tumblr or other online site feel free to send me an ask with a link, I'd love to read it :-) !!

Thank you for the ask!

mod Sasza

I’m just popping in as a history fan for a couple bits of history notes — but again, like Sasza said, you don’t have to be 100% historically accurate if you don’t want to and if you don’t feel it’s necessary.

So, especially in the first half of the 1900s, a large part of disabled children, including children with Down Syndrome, were institutionalized very early in their life. Around this time the push that immorality caused disability was strong, and people were often convinced by doctors and professionals that the children’s needs would always be too much for them. Eugenicism was sort of reaching a peak around this time, as well—I would say it was at its most intense in the period of 1900-1940s.

Not all parents institutionalized their children, though. There was pressure to do so, but that doesn’t mean everyone fell victim to it. There wasn’t really any official support for parents who did this, and there weren’t official organizations for Down Syndrome. From my research, the current large DS organizations seem to have popped up in the 60s.

The term ‘Down Syndrome’ wasn’t in popular use until the 70s, and it wasn’t known that it’s caused by an extra chromosome until 1959.

Life expectancy in 1900-1920 for people born with Down Syndrome was 9 years old. Some of this could absolutely have been due to conditions in institutions, but likely even more relevant is that about 50% of people with DS are born with heart defects (also known as congenital heart disease) that can be fatal if not treated with surgery. Heart surgery wasn’t really feasible until the late 30s and early 40s. Another risk factor is a higher risk for infection, which isn’t easy to manage in a world that doesn’t yet have antibiotics.

I actually wanted to find pictures of adults with Down Syndrome pre-1940ish, though, to see real tangible evidence of adults being part of a community. First I found just one picture of a baby in 1925 on this Minnesota government website. But then I found a collection someone made of photos of both children and young adults, but they are not specifically dated. The first baby picture is from the 30s according to the poster!

Judging by the clothes I see people wearing in these photos, photo #4 (man with Down Syndrome in a suit next to a woman) seems to be from the 20s and photo #13 (young woman with Down Syndrome and very long hair) seems to be from about the 1910s. #18 (large family with a lot of sons, including one boy with Down Syndrome) could be from the 30s. Those three are the oldest people with DS in the photos, and they seem like young adults. A lot of these pictures show a community and aren’t just isolated kids, which I find nice.

It’s hard to find specific historical record of people with Down Syndrome from that period of time, but I wanted to show photos of real people in their communities to show, hey look! They were there, too!

Either way, I love detective stories and historical fiction and I’m glad you’re writing a story and that you care about your character’s portrayal but I totally know the feeling of that tricky balance between historical accuracy and modern acknowledgement that we should have been doing better.

— Mod Sparrow

[kxxkiecxre]

❦ Deja Vu ❦ Jeon Jungkook

PAIRING: Jungkook x reader

SUMMARY: your childhood best friend is all grown up.

WARNINGS: stalker!Koo, unprotected sex (pls don’t), he nuts inside her, kinda toxic relationship between oc and Daniel (her ex), hickies, back scratches, skin marking, oral sex (f. Receiving) idk? I think that’s it?

WC: 3.2K

Really rushed because I’m half asleep lol also not edited.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Sipping on your drink in a musty club was not what you imagined to happen right after your last college exam ever. But Hyuna is a very convincing individual, and that is how you ended up in said club, tipsy and laughing with your best friend, wearing your skimpiest little black dress.

It was too hot in the club, your makeup felt like it was melting away even though it remind looking perfect and fresh, Hyuna was drunk, and you were tipsy, you needed to pee so badly but, it was all perfect. It was exactly how every weekend used to go back in your first year of college.

There was many men and women that were hot, but for some reason, through all these college years, no one ever piked your interested. No one but Daniel, back in second year of college, it’s a sticky situation. You wouldn’t call it love, but, it’s been so long and the fact you defied your parents for him, it’d be shameful to breakup with him now.

“And so, we broke up” Hyuna finishes, shaking her hand in a funny way. Hyuna was too cute for her own good.

“I know babe, I was there.”

“Alreast we ended on good terms” she pouts slightly while you nod in agreement.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, releasing the heaviness in the pit of your stomach. God you hated holding your pee in. Washing your hands and drying them, you rip a bit of tissue, tapping away the slight sweat by your hairline, and adjusting your bangs. You give yourself a once over, before returning to Hyuna.

“Yeah she’s about medium height, listens more than talks when tipsy, eh has huge eyes..” as you near Hyuna you over hear some tall guy in a black button up explain someone to her.

“Mmm that must be my bestie Y/N, she went to empty her weak bladder love” she says sipping on her drink.

“I heard my name-“ you gasp, heart immediately quickening at the familiar doe eyes staring back at you.

“Jungkook?” You ask in disbelief.

He smirks, “long time no see huh?”

You almost do a double take as Hyuna excuses herself, winking at you swiftly.

What has happened to him? Why is he so tall, and hot? So fucking handsome out of nowhere. You remember him as a shy 18 year old, heading off for college with big doe eyes and short spikey hair. This, this is not the same Jungkook that’s left you behind. Sure he’s older by two years, but goddamn. Time did him good.

“Yeah I mean 7 years is a lot of time but wow,” you scoff in amusement, “time did you good Jungkook.”

“I can tell you the same thing,” he eyes you up and down, “you became a woman. Wow. A smart one at that, masters degree in law? I’m proud of you.”

Sitting down at the stools by the bar you smile softly, “thank you.”

“So catch me up, I haven’t seen you for a long time. How are you? Are dating? How are you parents”.

Chuckling you make a mental note of the fact he no longer is the shy boy you know, he’s straight forward and to the point, no beating around the bush anymore, “I’m doing good, and yes I’m seeing someone. And my parents, they’re not talking to me.”

His brows pull into a frown, eyes glancing at you as yours land on his large hand wrapped around the shot glass, “seeing someone? Dating or trying it out?”.

“Dating, for awhile now actually.”

He nods, swallowing the drink in one swing, “and your parents? Why aren’t they talking to you hm? Do i need to talk to them?”.

“You’re still in contact with them? And no you don’t need to. They don’t approve of Daniel. They think he isn’t good for me, we had an argument, and they never called me again. To cut it short for you.”

He hums.

You take a minute take a really good long look at him. He’s dressed in all black, hair dark and eyes still doe but yet so alluring and seductive. Lips still the same just a lot more blushed and juicy, mature in a sense. Jaw sharp and skin glistening. His right hand sharing hints of tattoos and you smirk at that.

“What are you doing here by the way? If you don’t mind me asking.” You ask, sipping on the drink the bartender just slipped to you.

“I moved back, got my own apartment. Thought it made more sense to move here since the main company is situated here.” He says, eyes so attentive to you, you could swear you were spiking a fever just by the way you’re blushing.

“Mhm what company do you work for?” You ask, trying to mindlessly keep the conversation going.

“R.A.M & Co” he answers smoothly.

“Ooh I heard about them, apparently very successful.”

“You could say that” he smirks once again.

Your phone buzzes and you apologise. Answering swiftly, Daniels voice rings on the other end, asking you to come home and sighing you agree.

“I’m going to head out now Kook, take care of yourself hm?” You nod goodbye to him.

“Get home safely” he smiled back at you.

Walking home wasn’t necessarily alarming, or scary for you. You’ve know this big town for awhile, walked the streets thousands of times. Throwing your head back and exhaling, you think about Jungkook and how much he’s grown to be a man. The cold night drawing as cloud of fog to escape your lips.

Jungkook became a man whose begging to be worshipped. You’ve never been a disloyal person, but it’s not like your current relationship actually has any love there. You know Daniel sees other women on a regular, you just choose to ignore it. You’ve made a mess between yourself and your family, it would be embarrassing to break up now.

Scanning the streets, your eyes mimics the street lights and the many neon signs embracing the vast city. But somewhere in the back of your mind, actually no, right in the middle of your mind, you see yourself with Jungkook. Hands wrapped in his black hair, lips on his and bodies heating up with the activities you partake in, and for the first time in awhile you feel the buzz of some form of a good feeling. Perhaps, lust?

Huffing to yourself, you pull your dress down your ass. How could you imagine such vulgar things with a man who used to be your best friend? But good god, how could you not? The man is literally sex on legs, fuck he drove you crazy and it took him just a mere half an hour to talk with you. You wonder just how many girls begged to have him just for one night.

Lazily pulling out the keys to your apartment, you sigh, knowing Daniel is inside of it, about to scold you for going out and living your life once again. You should have never gave him a key to your place. That was your first big mistake.

Stepping into the house, you slip your shoes of, hanging your bag on the coating rack and strolling into the living room. Where of course, he’s sat on the couch, head in his hands that were supported on his knees. By all means, Daniel wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was hot, abs for days deep black eyes with a buzz cut.

“We need to talk” he mutters.

“Daniel if you’re going to scold me for going out again save I-“

“I’m breaking up with you.” He says, getting up of the couch and staring across the room at you.

Your hands stop pulling the grapes of the branches, your stomach pausing in the middle of your inhale. What? The edge of the kitchen island dug into your belly uncomfortably. All of a sudden?.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me Y/N, i can’t keep being with someone who has no respect or love for me.” He continues.

You Scoff, smirking in anger as your jaw slacks, your hand slaps against the marble and your rock back and forth on your heels, “oh save the crap. I’ve stayed with your two years Daniel, despite the fact you’ve been fucking all the girls behind my back, and I’m the one that doesn’t have respect for you? Oh go fuck yourself honestly.”

He pales slightly, his figure stiffening at your angry form, “leave my house Daniel.”

He does as you ask, not muttering a single word as your eyes begin to swell with tears once the door of your apartment shuts. You couldn’t believe you wasted all this time on someone whose so fucking useless and disrespectful. But that’s what you get for being naive, for not putting yourself first.

On the counter, your phone buzzes. An unknown number pops up and you think for a second if you should answer, after a second you press the green circle and put the phone to your ear.

“Did you get home safely?” You recognise that smooth voice, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you replied “how did you get my number.”

“Hyuna” he mutters lowly.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he chuckles, “are you?”

The beat of silence gets loud, pounding between your phone lines as you inhale sharply, “he broke up with me.”

He laughs lowly, “mhm good. You didn’t love him anyway, and correct me if im wrong, but don’t you deserve better?”.

“What are you getting at Jungkook?”

The line on his side goes quiet and for a minute you think he hung up on you, “you really think I don’t know who he is? Baby, I know everything about him. He’s nothing but a fake. He’s merely a man of his words.”

Furrowing your brows you sigh, “I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“I could make you feel things he’d never be capable of.”

“Jungkook-“

“Would you let me in if I knocked on your door right now?”

Stilling, your frown deepens in confusion, “what?”.

A knock echoes through your apartment, and your lips part. How the fuck does he know your address?

“Jungkook how do you know where I live?”

“Answer the door baby, I’ll explain everything.”

Your heart rate is probably through the roof, but you cannot decipher if that’s the result of Jungkook’s impeccable stalking abilities, or because he makes you want to give him your body right that second. Despite that, you open the door and there he was, in all his glory, black leather jacket now engulfing his body.

You let him in, following behind him as he looks around. His eyes find yours within seconds, and god did they look anything but innocent this moment.

He stalks towards you, cornering you into the wall, arm above your head as he leans down to be eye level with you. At this second, he could murder you, maybe even kidnap you, but something inside you would let him do both of the things. He looks like he’s famished, ready to devour whatever meal you give him and god do you want to give him the best meal of his life. His dark eyes, pierced through yours as they watched the metal ring around his lip. Why is he so damn fucking attractive right now?

His single look, makes you feel everything you haven’t in your two year relationship. You feel high, ecstatic as if you’re in cloud nine right now. As if nothing, absolutely nothing could hurt you or touch you but him. And you’re so fucking good with that, actually, you’re in love with that.

He was too good to be true, his whole demeanour possessive, manly and dominant. The siren eyes, the smirking lips and confident body language was driving you insane and if humanly possible, you’d orgasm right there and then.

The tension in the room was strong. Thick like a million bands carefully weaved together to create a sheath of nothing but sheer lust, and sex crazed energy. It could raise the roof if it was physical, whining like a whistle of a boiling kettle, threatening to blow the windows around you within a millisecond. Even the air around you was hot heavy and so dangerous. One word could break it or make it and the longer you stared at each other, the tighter the band tied. Threatening to snap at any given moment.

“Take me,” you whisper, “Jungkook.”

His smirk deepens, eyes becoming even darker than before and you knew, you knew this was going to be the best time of your life. Like the flash of thunder, Jungkooks lips latched onto yours. Sucking on them like a hungry man, tongue poking through to wander around your mouth, fighting tugging massaging your own as you moaned into the heated kiss.

“Bedroom, first door on the right.” You muttered hurriedly, peeling the black leather jacket of him and tossing it somewhere there in the living room.

Untying the laces of your dress, he smirks, “oh yeah?”.

“Fuck Jungkook don’t be a tease right now” you whined.

Chuckling he follows you into the room, discarding your clothes haphazardly everywhere around your house, cluttering your floors with a mix of yours and his clothes. You stand before him in a red lace bra and underwear, and scoffs in amuse.

“He was missing out on all this?” He shakes his head tsking.

You stood before him, skin caramel and glistening even in the dark, the only source of light being the glowing moon seeping into your windows, painting you in a blue light. God you were beautiful, your skin soft and smooth. You were a wonderful woman and he was in disbelief that your ex didn’t worship you the way you should be. He’s never expected to find you to be this grown. Breasts spilling out of your bra, ass round a plump and he could smell the femininity of you. The smell of woman and maturity and he loved it.

With no time to waste, he ripped the materials of your body. Lips immediately finding place in your skin, kissing, biting licking. You squirmed underneath him, begging to feel him in you already, but he was a patient man, and he knew he had to give you a bit of time.

Finger rubbing up and down your seeping slit, he groans. Fuck your were so wet, it was trickling down your ass you could feel it. His finger prodded your entrance, slipping in slowly mouth finally finding place in your clit and you gasped, moaning softly as his finger hooked inside you, thrusting carefully and gently inside you. Maddening you every second that goes by and he knew, he loved it.

His lips suctioned on your clit, tip of his tongue flicking up and down, stimulating your mind to a whole different dimension. Your body electrified, buzzing with a certain high you haven’t felt for what felt like ancient time. Your flesh felt like it was crawling with a million ants, tingling, tickling you all the way from your toes to your head, sweat began formulating on your skin, turning to a light blush pink hue, your fingers itching to tangle in his hair, feeling the silk locks falling through your fingers.

The pit of your stomach felt like it had a rock inside it, begging to be relieved, lifted out. Your legs closing in around his head as he moaned onto your pussy, your moans pitching to a melody he hasn’t heard ever be this beautiful. His finger rubbing up into your flesh, curling, thrusting, triggering your pussy to flutter. Your arousal coating his chin, his hand, your legs and anything close enough to it. Your stomach falling and rising with your quickened breaths, your ribs flaring as your back arched, walls clenching around his finger, and with a final suck of his lips, you cummed around his finger, whining as you smacked your lips together to poke your tongue out, moisturising the dry flesh.

“You good?” He asks, coming back up your body like a snake weaving around you.

You hummed a yes, nimble fingers trailing from his broad shoulders to neck and finally at the base of his head, urging him to close the distance between your lips. He tasted of you, with a hint of mint.

“I need you, now”

He smirked, blinking lazily as he reached behind him, successfully pulling his boxers off himself. His dick was hard, you could feel it between your folds, rubbing up and down to coat itself in your essence. Looking right into his eyes, he held your stare, pushing the tip of his cock inside, slowly, filling you up. Your walls stretched with a sting, nothing too painful, at least not to a point you didn’t enjoy it.

You could feel him in the base of your stomach, both of you gasping right as he bottomed out. Your head lifting of the pillow minimally, left hand still wrapped into the base of his locks. He gave you a few minutes to adjust, before dragging himself out, barely living the tip in, before thrusting back in. Your moans bounced of the walls, hanging in the air ghostly. Skin on skin, heat rushing between both you as his pace picked up, his head in buried in the crook of your neck, where occasionally, his lips would suck with the intent to leave a mark behind.

The electricity between you felt like it was almost igniting bigger sparks every time your skin would rub of each other.

With his cock dragging in and out of you rhythmically, your eyes shut. Back arching into hot and sweaty body, head tilting back into the pillow, throat so attractive to Jungkook eyes he couldn’t help himself but to suck another pretty purple bruise right there. With your hands trailing down his back and landing on his ass, he chuckles softly, feeling the way you begin to clench around him again, sucking him in tighter, and he lets out a strangled groan right into your ear, prompting you to whine just as beautifully.

But as the coil in your stomach begins to warn, your moans pick up in volume. Nails dragging around his back, surely marking him just as his tight grip is on your hip. Leaving finger prints right there and you loved it. Before you knew it, the knot snaps inside you, ripping a loud moan out of you, before it got stuck in your throat, and all that Jungkook could do was chase his high, staring at your face, watching as your features pulled into ecstasy, and it was enough to send Jungkook soaring, filling you up with his warm cum.

You stayed wrapped around each other for another minute, before he dropped on the other side of the bed beside you. Smiling crazily to himself almost not believing he just nutted into the woman he’s loved since he was a 14 year old shy boy damn.

Looking at each other almost instinctively, both of you burst into laughter. Before the rapid knocking of your door sends you into dressing yourselves in a hurried rush. Jungkook followed behind you slowly, watching as you opened the door, gasping.

“Mom?”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: no stop I actually don’t know how to end anything I write lmfao.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REWRITE MY STORIES IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM!!

MASTERLIST

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 3: Ducks on the Pond

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 7,433

Rating: NSFW - smut, language, feelings (maybe. just a little)

Summary: Having Jack in your house is more than a little overwhelming - but when you realize that it's what he really wants, everything changes.

Author’s notes: 

This chapter was a hell of a lot of tun to write. Trying to strike a balance between what I know happens and what is happening here was a struggle; hopefully you enjoy.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

“Ducks on the Pond” is another term used to describe runners in scoring position. To be considered “in” this position, a player must be on either second or third base due to previous play action. When this happens, any batted ball that results in a hit is likely to score one - or more - of the runners. These players are ready and waiting for the current batter’s action.

He parked in the driveway next to your car, turning his head to look through the window and at you. Did I actually invite him back to my place? Jack waited to get out until you were standing in the driveway, motioning for him to follow. I did. Shit.

There was no other way to describe it: you were nervous. But you were also excited - and you hoped that that emotion was the one that would win out. I didn’t think it would get to this point. I never really believed I’d get the chance to have him here.

He was quiet as he entered your house, but by the time you’d set your bag and keys on the counter, Jack was talking again - and you liked the way that the sound of his voice filled your home. “I like this place.” He’d stopped to take his shoes off by the door, glancing up as he undid the laces. “Smells nice.” He straightened up, looking around at your front hall and into the living room. “It’s real lived in.” 

“I moved in when my uncle offered me my job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, stepping back toward him. “I don’t … plan on staying here forever, but it’s worked out for me so far.” Shrugging, you gestured with one hand. “It’s just me, so it’s all I need. I’m sure it’s smaller than yours, though.”

“I actually just have a condo here.” He sniffed, reaching up to scratch the side of his neck. “It’s nice, but it’s nothin’ fancy. Not real big either. My place back in Texas?” Jack groaned. “That’s home. And it’s a hell of a lot bigger.” You’d seen the pictures he posted online - nothing seriously revealing, but still enough to give you an idea of what his houses looked like.  “And I’ve been livin’ out of a hotel while I rehab, so this is much bigger.” He winked. “You gonna give me the grand tour?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I… come on.” You gestured for him to follow you, wincing as soon as you turned your back. Of course he doesn’t want to stand around and talk. He came here for a reason. No matter how much fun you had with him that day, Jack’s interest in you was likely purely physical. He’s not here to be a friend. “Bathroom’s right here.” You pointed, clearing your throat. “And my bedroom’s -”

Jack said your name, the sound of it freezing you in place. As he spoke, asking you to turn around, you felt his hand on your back before it slid over to your hip and was joined by his other one on the opposite side of your body. What is… He waited until you were facing him again to continue, his tone softening. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying to him, and you figured things would go smoothly as long as you were on the same page to start. “I’m not … this isn’t something I do often, and especially not with someone I just met.” 

“Can I make it a whole lot easier for you?” He stepped closer, his hands still on your hips. “No pressure. I didn’t come back here with you because I expect anything, even though it was implied.” He smirked at you, but the expression wasn’t unkind. “I would like to kiss you again, though. And since we’ve already gotten the first one out of the way, I figure the second will -”

You moved quickly, leaning in and tilting your head - and when you met Jack’s lips with yours, some of your nerves dissipated. His hold on you tightened, Jack groaning - but then he pulled away, his eyes wide. He looks shocked. Should I not have … oh, no. “Jack?”

“Didn’t seem too nervous there.” He winked again, straightening his shoulders. “Good. That’s real good.” You agreed, your eyes flicking over to the side and then back to him, your smile growing. “Do you want to keep going and show me that bedroom, or go back to -”

“I’ll show you the bedroom.” You bit the inside of your lip, eyes locked with his. “We’re already pretty close.” He laughed quietly, his fingertips brushing against yours when you turned away and started walking down the hall. “It’s a little messy, so -”

“You should see mine.” He entered behind you, Jack’s voice low. “I hate puttin’ clothes away, so I always have two baskets: one clean, one dirty.” You huffed out a laugh, scanning the room for anything embarrassing while Jack kept going. “And my underwear drawer? Pfft. Nothin’s folded. Socks either.”

“I figured you’d have someone doing your laundry for you. Maybe a housekeeper.” You leaned against your dresser, crossing your arms and watching as Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Your schedule has to be really busy, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do is clean your kitchen or the bathroom or -”

“I do have a housekeeper.” Jack winced. “But she doesn’t touch my bedroom or my laundry.” Interesting. “You got me pegged, huh?” 

“It was just a guess.” You uncrossed your arms and pushed forward, heading for where he sat. “But… yeah, maybe I do.” He smiled at you, the expression genuine and reaching his eyes. “And Jack?” He hummed, waiting. “Laundry sucks, so I can’t say shit about the two baskets thing.” 

Jack’s laugh filled your room, and before you realized it was happening, he reached out for you and hauled you into the bed with him, both of you rolling onto the mattress. You braced yourself with both hands, ending up on your back. When you felt Jack’s weight atop you, you gasped, the sudden realization that Jack Daniels was in your bed flooring you. 

“You alright?” You nodded, staring up at him. “Good.” His eyes moved over your face, Jack’s smile locked in place. “I made you a promise at that park, an’ I think it’s time you let me follow through.” 

“I do too.” Swallowing, you cautiously reached up, putting your hand on his shoulder. “If you can.” He rolled his eyes before taking a breath, and then Jack was closing the distance between the two of you. Why am I challenging him? I already know he’s going to live up to it.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the beat slightly erratic. When his mouth met yours, your lips were already parted, giving him the perfect opening. He took it, the tip of his tongue poking out to meet the fullest part of your lower lip - and at that feeling, it was you that reacted, your hold on him tightening. 

And you moaned when he pushed it between them, your mouth opening wider to accommodate Jack’s. His response was to deepen the kiss further, his tongue stroking along the edge of yours, one slow drag after another. He was right. There’s nothing disappointing about this. 

You raised your hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, but when you pushed your fingers into the silky strands of his hair and pulled, he broke away, backing off with a grunt. “That’s what you like?” I mean… yeah. “Me too.” 

“Jack, you -” You didn’t get to finish the sentence before he was kissing you again, that one slightly messier and nowhere near as deep. It was followed by a series of shorter ones, each of them purposeful. 

In all of the fantasies you’d had about Jack, none of them included the fact that he liked to make out. You’d assumed that he would have just gone for it, uninterested in foreplay and wanting to get right to the main event. But I’ve never been happier to be wrong. 

You combed through his hair again when he moved his lips from your mouth to your cheek and then down over your jaw, his mustache dragging over the thin skin it met. And you angled your head so that he could move even lower, Jack’s mouth trailing down the column of your neck until it reached your shoulder. He paused there, sucking gently, but you didn’t even attempt to speak until your felt his tongue moving over the same area, leaving a damp trail in its wake. Before this gets too far, I need to … 

“Jack, wait.” You pushed him away, and he let you - propping himself up on his good arm and giving you a chance to collect your thoughts. “I don’t want to get carried away. Do you have…” You trailed off when you felt his fingertips moving along the inside of your forearm, though this eyes remained on your face. Unfair. This is unfair, he … “Do you have a condom? Because -”

“I do.” He nodded, his expression serious. “Not specifically for today, though. I just carry ‘em with me.” That didn’t surprise you - but his next words did. “And if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got a couple rules.” Oh. Rules? What … “No pictures or video. You left your bag in the other room, so I’m not worried about that.” You nodded, deciding to wait before you replied. “Anything that can be seen when I’m in my jersey … you can’t make marks there - nothin’ from your mouth or your hands.” That made sense to you, too, and you nodded again. “I’m not gonna stay over.” He looked apologetic at that revelation, Jack licking at his lower lip briefly and then giving you a tight smile. “That’s just for tonight though, it’s not a general rule. It’s because I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to go to the stadium, and then I’m drivin’ back before the game, so I need time to pack.” 

“OK.” Your voice was quiet, heart still beating wildly. So it means he stays sometimes. Just not this time. “OK to all of those. What -” 

“And one more thing.” Something else? “I’m gonna need you to keep pullin’ on my hair as much as you want to, darlin’, because I like that a hell of a lot.” Good. I like it a hell of a lot, too. 

That made you laugh, but it was a short sound as you leaned in closer, nodding your agreement. “You got it, Jack.” Slipping your fingers back into his hair, you pulled on the strands, which earned you another low groan from him. You liked the sound - maybe a little too much. Detouring from another kiss, you turned your head to the side and craned your neck so that you could speak into his ear. “Take off your shirt.” 

He froze at the sound of your voice, but it only took seconds for him to push his weight off of you, Jack sitting up on the edge of your bed and taking a long breath. “You gonna do the same?” He tilted his chin down, the smile creeping back across his lips. “Now’s a good time.” 

You sat up, too, but you didn’t move your hands. 

Instead, you waited to watch as Jack used his left one to grip the bottom hem of his t-shirt before pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Holy shit, I’ve never seen anyone do that in real life before. “Jesus, Jack. That …” He grinned and then stood up, giving you the opportunity to stare as he positioned himself in front of you. 

He was gorgeous  - even more so than you’d imagined he would be. You let your eyes roam from where his jeans sat low on his waist, up and over the slight curve of his belly. Jack put both hands on his hips, which made his muscles flex again. As your eyes continued their journey upward, you bit down on your lower lip. “You see anything you like?”

“You know I do.” Humming as you eyed his broad, freckled chest, you shook your head slowly. “Can’t believe they make you cover all this up with a uniform every night.” 

“I try to show a little skin.” He shrugged. “Always keep a couple buttons undone.” That made you laugh again, and when you realized that Jack was the type to joke in the bedroom, you shivered. I’m going to enjoy this. “I think it’s your turn to do the same.” He was right. You’d stalled slightly, enthralled by the sight of him. But in order to actually take the night further, you’d need to remove your clothing, too. 

“I can do that.” You didn’t stay seated, though. Standing in front of him, you also pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop beside your feet. He reached out, both of his hands sliding over your sides, and at the first contact of his palms to your bare skin, you gasped. “Jack, y-” You didn’t get to finish. He urged you closer, hands moving over your body so that one could settle against your lower back, the other traveling up to stop between your shoulders. 

Both of yours found their way to his stomach, your fingers curling inward. “I forgot somethin’.” He spoke quietly, tilting his head so that he could kiss your cheek. His facial hair tickled your skin with each word, Jack continuing to speak the closer he got to your mouth. “Probably don’t need to say it, but my shoulder’s still not at 100%, so we also need to be careful with that.” 

“Of course.” You agreed, and your hand slid lower, fingers catching the button of his jeans. “The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you right before you’re set to come back.” You popped the button and then moved your hand to the zipper. As you undid it, he dragged the edges of his nails across your skin. It made your back arch and pushed your chest against his, which is what Jack seemed to be waiting for. 

Things moved quickly from there, both of you impatient to rid each other of your remaining clothing. 

You undid the zipper while Jack unhooked your bra, both of his large hands sliding apart so that the could grab the straps. By the time you were pushing his jeans down and over his hips, he’d eased the material over your shoulders so that it dropped down your arms, the elastic catching on the crook of your elbow.

Being so exposed in front of Jack after such a short time should have scared you. It should have worried you, especially after the other women he’d likely been with throughout the years… but it didn’t. Instead, his touch thrilled you, and when he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, you opened your mouth to tell him - and were cut off with a searing kiss. 

He wasted no time, mouth locked against yours, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue prodding against the seam of your lips and waiting for you to give him access. Oh, Jack. It didn’t matter to you that what was going on was likely a one time thing, It didn’t matter that within a few hours, he’d be dressed and gone. 

Because for the time being, he was there, with you. He was in your bedroom, with his hands and mouth on you - and yours were on him. And he started this. The kiss continued, Jack deepening it as his fingers curved around the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

You broke away with a gasp, letting out a shuddering breath. I need to focus for a second. Jack’s eyes were wide, but before he could question you, you reached down and undid your only remaining button. Here goes nothing. You glanced down to watch as your pants followed the same path his had taken, sliding down your legs before you could step out of them. You caught a glimpse of him then, the material of the trunks he wore straining to contain a sizeable bulge. Ok. That looks … 

Almost as though he could tell exactly where you were looking, Jack reached up with one hand to adjust himself. At the sight of his hand against the dark material, fingers curled around himself, you sighed, licking your lips. I want to know how he tastes. “Can I -”

“No.” Jack cleared his throat and then said your name, waiting until you were looking up at him again to say anything else. No? What did I - “We don’t know each other well enough for that yet.” Yet? Does that mean he wants to know me better? “Hey.” He used one finger to tip your chin upward, his mouth lifting in a smirk. “That’s my own rule, but that doesn’t mean it applies to you too.” The tip of his tongue flashed between his lips, his eyes locked on yours. “I’d like nothin’ more than to -”

“No.” You backed away, your own smile growing. If I can’t go there, neither can you. “We should play by the same rules. Make it fair.” He looked surprised at that, both eyebrows shooting up, but Jack didn’t question it. Instead, he bent over and reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet. 

Flipping it open, he pulled a condom free and then turned away from you, setting it - and the billfold - down onto the tabletop next to your bed. You used the opportunity to stare at his back and the way his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin smooth. 

There was a smattering of freckles over his shoulders that you knew you’d think about each time you saw him on the field, but after only a few seconds he turned to face you again, one brow arched. “Bed?” You couldn’t speak, and so you just nodded in reply, forcing yourself to turn away from him and climb back in. Ok. Ok, it’s happening, and he’s going to … 

You felt his hands on you before you could get settled, Jacks’s fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear and then tugging. He eased them down, and when you straightened your legs and laid down on your stomach, folding your arms beneath your head, he removed them completely. 

Jack was silent for almost too long, and when you turned your head further to see what was wrong, you gasped. He was standing next to the side of your bed, staring down at you - but instead of both hands hanging by his sides, the fingers of one of them were curled around his length, the man as naked as you were. 

Jack stroked himself slowly, and when he saw that you were watching, one side of his mouth crept upward in a sly smile. “Found somethin’ I like lookin�� at, too.” 

You were fine until he winked. At the sight of that, you breathed out his name, both eyes closing. He laughed quietly, and when you felt the mattress dip a few seconds later, followed by the brush of his knee alongside yours, you knew what he was going to do. 

He swung his other leg so that he was straddling your thighs, and then Jack leaned forward, one hand flat on the bed next to you to support his weight with his uninjured arm. He touched you with the other one, fingertips trailing over your curves and then up, and your eyes flew open at the feeling of his mouth following those fingers, pressing kisses to the exposed expanse of your back. 

You would have been content to let him kiss his way up the entire length of your body, but only moments after you felt him run the tip of his nose up the line of your spine, Jack spoke again. “Roll over.” He nipped at your skin, the edges of his teeth dragging, and before he got out the next word - a quiet please - you were moving, slowly flipping over so that you were on your back and staring up at him. 

There was a warmth in his eyes that surprised you - and you wanted to take advantage of it. “C’mere.” You brought both hands up, one of them resting against his shoulder and the other urging him to move his face toward yours. “Let me k-”

“Not yet.” Jack nipped at the heel of your hand and then ducked down, zeroing in on one side of your chest. His lips closed around your nipple and when he sucked, your back arched, fingers tightening against his arm before you gasped and muttered the word sorry, moving it down and toward the space between his shoulders. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sucked harder and then released your skin, flicking his tongue against it a few times before you felt the graze of his teeth. 

You moaned then, wanting him to hear how turned on you were, and it was the right decision. 

He switched to the other side of your chest, mouthing his way across your sternum. When he reached your other breast, you groaned out his name, hips rising from their place on the mattress to meet his. He swore at the contact, but Jack chased your movement with his own, even as he lapped at the curve of your skin. 

You felt how hard he was - the length of him hot against your lower abdomen, a warm, sticky smear dragging against your belly with every short thrust of Jack’s hips. “Jack.” You whispered to get his attention, heart thrumming in your chest. “Jack, hey.” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t sit up, instead staring at you with his chin pressed against your heated skin. “You’re too far away.” Using your free hand as a demonstration of your words, you slipped it between your bodies. “I can’t reach you.” 

“That what you want?” Jack wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “You wanna get your hands on me?”

“Yes.” Dropping your hand, you pressed it to your belly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Jack straightened up then, sliding both knees forward and then settling back so that his weight rested on his calves. Your gaze dropped from his face to his chest and then lower, and before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it, you were using both hands to push yourself up and into a sitting position, widening the spread of your legs just enough so that you could bend your knees and plant your feet to help you balance. “What do you like?”

“I’m gonna like whatever you do.” He leaned in, voice low. “So don’t you worry ‘bout that.” Those words were all you needed, your eyes closing as you met him in another kiss. That one was slow, and it was you that slipped your tongue between his lips first, the sound Jack made almost too quiet to notice. But you liked that, didn’t you. 

You wondered if he could hear - or feel - the thudding of your heart, the beat of it traitorously quick. He knows. He’s gotta know. You reached out slowly, your fingers closing around Jack - and when you stroked him for the first time, the thrust of his hips toward you was immediate, Jack’s kiss turning hungry. He held you close, one arm wound around your shoulders, the other hand pressed flat against your lower back. Wait, though. Wait a second … 

Releasing him, you pulled your hand away slowly, and when Jack mumbled your name, backing up, it was your turn to wink. “Just a sec.” Averting your eyes, you looked down, hoping that he would do the same. Am I really going to do this? The sight of him - so close to the apex of your thighs - made the decision for you. Yes, I am. You slid your fingers between your own legs, coating them. 

“Oh, fuck.” You heard him - and knew that he was watching. Good. “Can I -”

“Yeah.” You let out a shuddering breath and moved your hand back to him, your slick fingers gliding up and down his length. “Yes, Jack.” He scooted back a few inches, and though you never broke your rhythm, it changed the angle, making it easier for you to pause at his tip to swirl your thumb around and over it a few times before giving him another firm stroke. 

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and stared downward between your bodies, Jack’s breathing quick. And when he touched you for the first time, it caught you by surprise - the press of his thumb turning into a slow circle of the digit. Then it was you that cried out his name, hips jerking forward and your grip tightening around him. Fuck that feels good.

He couldn’t do much else with the way you were positioned, but when Jack lifted his head to meet your eyes again, he grinned at the sight of your face - mouth hanging open and both eyes wide. “Lay down.” He swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head briefly. Wait, what? “Lay down.”

“But I won’t be able to -”

“I know.” He moved his hand, letting it rest against the crease of your thigh. “Lay back.” You stroked him twice more and then did as he asked, reluctantly pulling your hand away as you settled against the blankets and pillows. You wanted to bring your hand to your mouth and pop your thumb between your lips - tasting even the slightest bit of him. But he said no. He said not this time. And so you didn’t, getting comfortable and raising your hips as you waited to see what Jack would do, both hands resting by your sides on the blankets.

He repositioned himself, too, moving so that he was kneeling beside you before urging your legs further apart with one hand. It had only been a few minutes since you’d climbed into bed together, but time slowed as Jack twisted his wrist and slipped three fingers between your legs, two of them spreading you open and the other pushing slowly into you. 

He focused on what he was doing, the smile never leaving his lips, and even though you wanted to watch, you couldn’t. Your eyes closed and you turned your head to the side, mouth open as your hips rocked forward and into his touch. One finger inside of you turned into two, each thrust of them a little deeper than the last. 

He knew what he was doing - that much was clear - but Jack wasn’t trying to make you come. Instead, he was focused on pleasuring you, opening you up carefully. Because he’s big. Swallowing, you opened your eyes and forced out a breath, turning your head to watch him again. 

For a brief second, you considered saying fuck an even playing field and telling him you wanted his mouth. Jack would have done it without question - you could see the look in his eyes, watched the way he licked at his lips while his fingers pumped in and out of you. Even just the thought of it turned you on, and you wondered if he could tell. 

You wanted to know what it felt like to have him between your thighs, and could very clearly imagine how good the rub of his mustache against your sensitive skin would feel. Not tonight. Not this time. Not - 

“I need to fuck you.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts and when you met his gaze, Jack’s chest was heaving. “Grab the condom.” You groped for it without looking away and when you handed it over, he accepted it with one hand, the other still on you. “I can’t…” He groaned, closing his eyes and pulling his fingers out. You inhaled through your nose at the loss of contact, but Jack didn’t keep you waiting. The sound of the condom opening was followed by a quiet hiss as he rolled it on and then held it in place, squeezing himself. “I can’t hold myself up.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you. Of course he can’t. Holding himself up would be … “Ok.” Nodding, you moved to push yourself up again. “Ok, so I’ll get on top, I -”

“No.” Jack stroked himself once, pushing his shoulders back. “I’ve got a better idea.” Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed. “Lay down on your side.” 

You thought about it for a few seconds and then did just that, rolling onto the side that would allow him to keep his injured arm free. Jack got into position behind you, his body pressed against yours. One arm slid between you and the mattress and then bent at the elbow to cross up and over your chest. He wants me close.“Wh-”

“Relax.” He kissed the back of your shoulder and then squeezed your arm. “I’ve got you.” Reaching down, he gripped your thigh and then eased your leg up and back, urging you to drape it over both of his. “This alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile on your face as your eyes closed. “It is, Jack.” He squeezed your hip and then reached between you, guiding himself into place. You held your breath in anticipation, and Jack didn’t keep you waiting. Nudging his hips forward, Jack slipped partway in - and your body did the rest. 

Rocking your hips back at the same time he pushed forward ensured that he was buried in your heat in a single, smooth stroke. You gasped at the feeling, but that reaction was nothing compared to Jack’s. He didn’t speak, instead turning his head and then ducking it so that he was pressing his lips to your throat, breath leaving him in rapid pants that warmed your skin further. 

He only gave you seconds to adjust and then he pulled back slowly, hips easing away from you before he urged them forward again, setting the pace. He gripped your hip hard, fingers digging into your skin, and for a few minutes, you let yourself get lost in him - in the way he felt and sounded and the way he was touching you, the hand on your chest sliding down so that he could cup one breast in his palm, squeezing just enough that you could feel it. 

He groaned against your neck and then bit down - not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you whine. While you reacted to that, he moved the hand from your hip down, returning it to the space between your legs.  

That angle was better - and Jack wasted no time in zeroing in with his fingertips, circling against you with quick, precise motion. It felt good - better than good, if you were being honest - and your body fell into rhythm with Jack faster than you anticipated. But something’s… Opening your eyes, you frowned. Something’s missing.

It was just sex. You knew it was just sex, and you understood the need for the positon; Jack’s health and well-being the most important things to consider. But … “Hey, you alright?” Murmuring the words into your ear, he slowed the motion of his hips and hand, though he didn’t stop either of them entirely. “You got real… stiff.” 

“Yeah, I …” Closing your eyes, you reached up with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “I’m fine, I just …” Moving your hips backward to meet his as he thrust forward, you sighed. “I’m not used to not doing anything, and I feel like I should b-” 

“How ‘bout this?” He kissed the underside of your jaw, saying your name as he sunk back into you. “Next time, you’re in charge?” Next time? So that means… He circled his hips slowly, but didn’t pull out, leaving you completely full of him - and waiting to see what he’d say next. “How’s that sound?” 

Twisting your upper body so that you could look up at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds … acceptable.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was just a natural reaction - Jack’s response to a humorous comment - but it made your chest tight, nonetheless. I want to make him look at me like that again. You reached up then, your hand sliding along the side of his neck and then further back and into his hair, the roots damp with sweat. Jack got the hint, leaning forward until he could kiss you again. 

That time, he bit down on your lower lip, taking it between his teeth and tugging before he released it, mouth sealed over yours. It was a familiar kiss - much more familiar than you’d expected with him, but it helped to put you at ease. You nodded slowly as you kissed him back, fingers tightening in his hair as Jack’s hand resumed its previous pace - and so did the pace of his hips. 

You wanted to prolong things - wanted to extend the time you’d get to spend in bed with him, but your body had other ideas. In the space of only a minute or two, you felt the heat gathering low in your belly, your breathing quickening by the second. Jack’s hips snapped against yours, and when he groaned, you felt the vibration before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against the side of your face. 

He was sticky with sweat, but it was the sound of his voice you focused on. You weren’t even sure that he knew he was speaking, but each word went straight to your core, your fingers closing around his forearm as your mouth fell open. “Feels amazing. So fucking good. Wanted you all week.” You did? He groaned and tilted his head so that he could kiss the top of your shoulder, and you moaned at the feeling of the edge of his nail as it grazed your skin, the motion of his hand slowing. 

That got to him. 

Jack’s hips stuttered, and when your eyes opened, you realized that it wasn’t going to be you that came first. “Oh, fuck, Jack.” Lifting your hand again, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling harder than you had earlier. “You’re right there, aren’t you? So fucking close.” He nodded, each of his exhales hot against your sticky skin. “Let me feel it.” You sighed again, turning your face away from him to press it against the blankets and biting your lip as you arched your back, forcing him in deeper. “Feel you.” 

He came without warning, a low, almost strangled moan erupting from his lips as his hips slowed, the muscles in his thighs tensing along with the ones in his abdomen. You felt the heat through the thin latex, Jack filling the condom as the pressure of his fingers between your legs increased. “Feel that?” He groaned the words out, his voice uneven. “Made me come fast because I wanted you so goddamn bad.” He grunted, continuing to move. “‘S’your turn now.” 

“Yes, I -” You stopped when he latched onto your shoulder again, the pressure of his teeth firm. Your hips jerked backward and toward his, the combination of everything he was doing too much to hold off your own orgasm any longer. 

But unlike Jack, you were vocal about it, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over even as your muscles seized around him, the heat uncoiling and spreading through your body as your hold on him tightened. Oh, fuck. 

Jack’s hand slid back down your chest and settled over your heart, and when he released your skin from between his teeth, you felt him smiling against it, even as the movement of his fingers stopped and his hips slowed. “Fuck you feel good.” Yeah, so do you. Both of you were breathing hard, but it was Jack that moved first, swiping his fingers in one more slow circle against you and causing you to jerk backwards and press against his body before he pulled his hand away. What is … 

You got your answer moments later when his damp fingers trailed over your thigh and then your hip before moving between your bodies to steady himself  as he withdrew. Humming as he pulled out, you brought your hand up to rub at your face while you caught your breath, already steeling yourself for the loss of him behind you. “Jack, I -”

“Shh.” He eased free, a long exhale hitting the back of your shoulder. “Can you move?” Move? You want me to get up? “Face me, I mean?” The question shocked you, but you did what he asked, moving your leg first and then carefully turning in his arms. “You good?” 

“Good? Yeah.” Fighting the urge to lift your hand and push the hair away from his forehead, you narrowed your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be good?” 

“Donno. That was pretty quick.” He swallowed, the tip of his tongue emerging to wet his lips. “Didn’t mean for it to be.” You didn’t? “Sorry abut that.” He used his right hand to touch your shoulder, his eyes dropping to the skin and his lips turning downward into a frown. “I know I said you had to be careful, and then I just -”

“Don’t apologize.” You did reach up then, fingers brushing over his temple and easing the hair away from his face. “I liked it.” His eyes widened and then Jack laughed, ducking his head to kiss you quickly, his hand gripping your hip. “A lot.” Instead of backing away after the kiss, Jack stayed put, his mouth hovering just above yours. You wondered what he was waiting for - if he wanted you to say something else or if he was about to speak again, but instead of giving you too much time to consider, he acted. 

It caught you by surprise when he kissed you again, his tongue licking over the curve of your lower lip. You didn’t keep him waiting, though, angling your head and opening your mouth for him. If you only had a few minutes left before he was gone, you were going to make the most of them - and if Jack wanted to kiss you like he had no intention of leaving your bed, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop him.

Eyes closed, you kissed him back, one hand absently moving over the curve of his shoulder and then down, trailing along the muscles of his bicep. You would have liked to continue exploring his body, but Jack broke the kiss with a sigh, shaking his head.

“I’ve gotta go.” You knew it was coming but it still hurt, the sting of knowing that he was just going to leave canceling out some of the elation you felt at being in his arms. “I fucking hate to just …” Jack trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I wish I could stay.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Bringing your hand to the front of his body, you spread your fingers against his chest. “I get it.” You repositioned your shoulders, nodding. “Places to go, suitcases to pack, baseball games to play.” His eyes darkened briefly, lips falling back into a frown - but Jack recovered, smiling as he nodded at you. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” He got up as soon as you gave him permission, one hand holding the condom in place while he rolled away and then got out of the bed. You watched shamelessly as he crossed the room and then left it, pushing the door all the way open and disappearing into the hallway. As soon as you heard that door close, you sighed, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

“Holy fuck.” You needed to get up, too. You needed to get out of the bed and get dressed, so that when Jack came back into the room, he didn’t find you laying where he’d left you. There would be plenty of time to think about him and about the time you’d spent with him after he was gone. I wonder if he’ll think about me, too. 

That question motivated you enough to get you on your feet. 

After you’d used the towel from your shower earlier to clean yourself up, you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, glancing at yourself in the mirror after you were dressed. He’s going to need to come back in here, and he’s naked, so… 

You padded down the hallway and knocked softly on the door, letting him know that you’d be downstairs. But you didn’t wait for a reply, heading briefly into your second bathroom and then into the kitchen, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge. You downed most of one before he appeared in the doorway of your kitchen, once again dressed, though his hair was still somewhat unruly. I like it like that. 

“That for me?” He pointed at the second bottle and you nodded, sliding it across the counter. He drank from it, keeping his eyes on you. It was awkward, but only slightly, and when he finished with his water, Jack swiped a hand across his mouth and grinned at you. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Of course.” You sipped, shrugging. “A bottle of water is the least I can do.” 

“No, not for that.” He scratched at his cheek, keeping his eyes on you. “For today.” He’s thanking me for sex? Your expression must have fallen enough that he saw it, because Jack immediately circled the counter to where you were standing, reaching out to wind an arm around you. “No, not like that. I’m not thankin’ you for … shit. I sound like such an asshole, don’t I?” He paused, glancing up. “It was real nice to not feel like this was just a hookup because of who I am.” Oh. Oh, that’s different. 

“You’re welcome.” You reached for his hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing. “I had fun today, too.” His smile widened at your words and to your surprise, Jack pulled you into a tight hug, letting go of your hand to hold you close. You hugged him back, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” 

The words slipped out before you could stop them, but Jack agreed, taking a step back and saying your name quietly and looking directly into your eyes as he continued. “I’d like that.” There was nothing left to prolong his leaving, and when Jack turned away and toward the hallway, you followed, though not closely. “I’ll be back up here later this week, if everything goes well.” He put on one shoe and looked up at you, nodding. “Can I call you?” 

“Sure.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you bit the inside of your lip. “That would be great.” You wanted to say more, but chose not to. And when Jack stood up, patting his back pockets to make sure he had everything, you leaned against the wall, watching. I have to lock the door, it’s not like I’m hovering. “Drive safe, Jack. You’re gonna be on the road a lot this week.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He reached for the doorknob then, fingers closing around it. But before he pulled it open, Jack spun back to face you and crossed the small space, crowding you against the wall. “I know I have to go, but …” He trailed off as you tried to process what was happening, but before you could get your bearings, he was kissing you, the wall at your back and his body pressed to your front. 

Is this fucking happening? He pushed his tongue between your lips, letting out a quick breath through his nose, and then Jack’s hand slid beneath your shirt and up. His fingers splayed wide against your side, though they curled inward when you nipped at his lower lip, tugging on it. It is. And he started it and… 

You broke apart with a quiet gasp, and after Jack pressed another kiss to your mouth, he said your name, tone serious. “No maybe about it. I want to do this again.” 

Straightening up, Jack winked at you and then moved to open the door, lips curving up into the smile that you were all too familiar with. Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah, me too. 

“Yes.” It was all you could manage - one word in a breathless exhale - but it seemed to be all he needed, because you got another grin before he stepped outside in the the still-warm darkness of the mid August summer, closing the door behind him. 

---

[runabout-river]

No matter what Gege does with Gojo, I don’t think it will be satisfying for me

I considered every option for what could possibly happen with Gojo, regardless of how likely I think they are, and I genuinely can't find myself considering any of them a satisfying conclusion.

**1. He is dead and no one will mention him in the last chapter.**

Hate this. So much. Random civilians in Shibuya were shown respect by Yuji in the middle of chaos and panic, but nobody has ANYTHING nice to say about Gojo?? Since the fight ended, we got Kusakabe saying he is at fault for not killing Yuji and Shoko calling him an idiot (endearingly) for not destroying Geto's body. Lovely.

**2. He is dead and somebody will say something or we will be shown a grave.**

Better but still bad. I feel like the ship has sailed at this point. They had a chance while reflecting on the fight and we got nothing. Megumi and Shoko were at Tsumiki's grave and... we got nothing. I think it's pretty safe to say no one will be mourning him in the last chapter, they're already going on missions after all. And a simple mention feels incredibly cold and empty.

**3. He is dead but will come back to life due to his soul still not departing and sacrificing one of the Six Eyes in a binding vow.**

I won't comment on how possible or not this is because Yuta managed to return to his body simply by being in proximity of Rika. If Gege wants to write it, he can. However, we are talking about the last chapter of the manga and this would absolutely take away the spotlight from Yuji. Not to mention that this route needs groundwork that I don't think 19 pages can provide for. ALSO, this still doesn't explain why nobody is sad or willing to acknowledge him because, to them, he is dead.

**4. He is actually alive and that's why nobody has been shown to be sad about him.**

Would make sense in terms of characters like Yuji and Yuta not showing any emotion towards him. But this isn't like Nobara's situation. Like I said, it needs build up. A character like Gojo should be shown making his choice, not just appearing out of nowhere. It would add absolutely nothing to his arc and would honestly be pure fanservice.

**5. The dream theory.**

I don’t know how much you've heard about this but there is a theory going around that these last chapters or more have all been a dream. I won't do any analysis on the validity of it because this isn't important to my point. "Who's dream?" is the actual question here.

**a) It is Yuji's dream.**

You want to tell me somebody as kind and compassionate as Yuji has no place for his teacher in his dream of a happier tomorrow? Get out of here.

**b) It is a collective dreamlike state, a product of Sukuna's activation of the Merger despite the rules imposed on it.**

Again, nobody, not a single soul, has it in their heart to include Gojo in their dream? In any way other than criticizing him? It would go against all the care Yuji and Yuta have shown for him and be a genuinely awful characterization. It would show he was actually not loved at all, something we know isn't true.

**c) It is Gojo's dream.**

So, Gojo is dreaming of a world where his body is used as a weapon, his students don't care enough to even mention his name and life goes on as if he never existed? He can imagine himself being blamed but not having a place in his ideal future? Do you want me to kill myself?

I would really like to hear opinions or other options if you have any. Right now, this is all just sad.

*Cracks Knuckles*

First of all, I have read the dream theory and I believe it's possible but for now we take the last chapters at face value.

Yes, the lack of any mourning for Gojo (and Choso) is sad and a sour note at the end of the manga. We already had this lack of regard for his death during the Shinjuku fights. There I could understand though how the characters pushed all their feelings to the side once Gojo had been defeated.

They needed to act fast and steadfast, so we got most of their concern and other emotions while Gojo was still fighting.

Now though there is no excuse anymore. JJK had alwasy been a little loose when it came to the slower and reflective moments but Gege had the space the previous chapter to fill it with somehting meaningful. Instead we got an unnecessary explanation of the New Shadow Style school system that's just plain unimportant three chapters before the end.

So in that regard, yes, Gege fumbled it. Even in the driest part of Gojo's death, there still should've been an earth-shattering shake up of the status quo the same way his birth had changed the jujutsu world. But that was also lacking because chapter 270 basically erased all conflict in the story.

So what will happen now?

Your option 1) hate it, too :D

Option 2) nothing to add. Perfectly said how Gojo should've already been talked about instead of letting it go to the last chapter where he most likely won't get centre stage.

Now to Option 3/4) First, the last chapter will be longer than 19 pages. It was either double or tripple the length of a normal chapter so there is more time to flesh the last things out. Second, I have my own theory on how Yuta using Kenjaku's CT on Gojo's body and then getting ejected from it, might've have permanently revived Gojo.

I don't like Gojo being just alive though because that would be anticlimatic and detrimental to the high stakes and emotions that came before. It would be just one more thing in this super happy ending everyone got (except Choso). What could work though is Gojo's body being alive but in a vegetatitve state. Then it would be open ended how his story would go on.

Now the thing about the dream theory is: Yuji only imagines the good things. That's why characters where their death was ambiguous are all alive and only those who had been 100% confirmed dead are dead. With Yuji doing the dreaming, he would push negative feelings about death away and mourning is one such feeling and he had done exactly that previously as well.

If this theory comes true, Yuji would be mourning way more than just Gojo's death at the end. He would also be mourning the good end he envisioned for everyone. And that's sad but also... what I would prefer in contrast with this sugar cloud of a happy ending.

[adhd-merlin]

Hey I heard you wanna yap so I'm here to talk Arthuriana books ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I've got a whole spreadsheet but I've only recently started reading 21st century ones, including Bliss & Blunder which is currently my highest ranked out of the bunch but I know it's gonna be usurped by the one I'm currently reading - The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman. If you can handle long books (almost 700 pages) then you have to read it, it's so well written and goes into the more neglected knights like Bedivere and Palomides (and as with all modern stuff some of the knights get to be gay as a treat). I'm still only 1/4 of the way through but if it stays as good as it's been so far then oh boy. Anyways let me know what your favourite 21st Arthuriana is!

Yaaay yapping time <3

Ooh I can’t believe you’ve got a spreadsheet, haha. I’m fascinated by you spreadsheet people! (I’m not a spreadsheet kind of person, I’m a “I’ll write a random note on my phone that I’ll soon forget about… unless I remember” kind of person).

thank you for the rec!! Imma be honest I don’t think I can handle long books right now, because I’m struggling with concentration, but it sounds interesting! I’ll add it to my wish list in case I feel inspired to read it in future (I use the app Bookshelf to keep track of books read/to read, though there’s not much to keep track of these days lol. I like it because it’s super basic; I don’t even think you need to create an account? Can’t remember. But I can’t be bothered with Goodreads anymore.)

Anyways let me know what your favourite 21st Arthuriana is!

Bliss & Blunder is the only modern one I’ve read actually! I haven’t read many Arthuriana books? I’ve read about Arthuriana texts/adaptations more than I’ve read any actual texts lol. I like hearing about all the lore! But I love thinking/reading about adaptations in general, I think the process itself is so interesting? Like, what elements of a story one chooses to focus on or to discard; what makes a character… well, themselves. If you put Lancelot in the 21st century, what would he be like? How much can you change a story and still recognise it as the same? I find it fascinating to think about!* And obviously Arthurian texts have been inspiring so many people over the centuries across different media, so there’s a lot to explore in that sense.

I would like to read some of the “source” texts at some point, though they are a bit daunting. I gave Le Morte d'Arthur a try and abandoned it quite soon, but I’d like to dip my toes in it again, read some select chapters perhaps. I’d also like to read The Knight of the Cart because Lancelot is such an interesting character.

In terms of modern adaptations (as in, written in modern times), I would like to check out The Once and Future King (the Ill Made Knight in particular, don’t think I could read all the books)—I’ve read contrasting opinions on T.H. White’s work but it’s had a great influence on subsequent adaptations (I think?) that I want to see what all the fuss is about. And I love the whole love triangle drama. An affair so messy we’re still talking about it centuries later? I’m so here for it.

I’ve read a couple of random quotes from Steinbeck’s The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights that made me go “oh I should check this out!”, so that it also on my radar. (Have you read it? If so, what did you think of it?)

*I was in the Sherlock fandom for a while and that’s one of the things I enjoyed about it—all the different adaptations that existed about the same source material. And I don’t even care about Conan Doyle’s stories that much (lol sorry Arthur) so it really was mainly about the adaptations for me. I was studying Russian at uni at the time, so I checked out the “classic” Soviet Sherlock Holmes series, and also the Russian TV adaptation that came out in 2013. I greatly enjoyed the latter because of the way it played with and subverted elements of the original canon—it was great fun! Maybe my favourite Sherlock Holmes adaptation. But Vitaly Solomin's Watson ("Soviet" Watson) has a special place in my heart, he was so cute. Did you know there's a genderbent Holmes & Watson Russian adaptation? And they get to crossdress to get into a gentleman's club. Fascinating. I also think Jonny Lee Miller was great in Elementary, though I’m not a big fan of the procedural format. I did abandon that show after series… three, I think? but I still think he made an interesting Sherlock Holmes. His acting was probably wasted on that series to be honest!)

[cienie-isengardu]

Hot take: It's okay that Bi-Han doesn't like Tomas. He doesn't have to see him as family or like him.

By the addition of “Hot take” I assume this is not something that fandom at large figured out by themselves yet. Can’t say I’m surprised though. Yes, it is okay for Bi-Han to not like or see Tomas as family, as no one can be - nor should be - forced to like anyone just because others (adults) expect it. That alone doesn’t make Bi-Han an evil person, even if Tomas feels rejected in the process, as each person will define what makes one a family differently. 

Their brotherhood was forced on both, as none had any say in Grandmaster’s decision to adopt the orphaned and traumatized boy (how they adapted to the situation is another matter and so far, we know more about Smoke’s process of adaptation than Bi-Han’s). We know only small bits of what happened that significant day, but so far sources - the way the informations are phased at least - feel to me like the Grandmaster adopted the boy less for Tomas’ sake and more to smother his own guilt 

[...] Having accidentally trespassed onto Lin Kuei lands, they were attacked. Smoke was orphaned. Ashamed by his warriors' actions, the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster adopted Smoke. He raised him alongside his sons, Sub-Zero and Scorpion. [Smoke’s BIO]

and/or to save his honor:

Kitana: "You are Kuai Liang's adopted brother?" Smoke: "His father's honor demanded that he take me in." 

So this is not a situation as if Bi-Han urged father to give him another younger brother and dad complied to make his son happy but once he brought the orphaned Tomas, Bi-Han decided nope, I change my mind and from on I will act as a spoiled brat that didn’t get what he wanted. Tomas did not choose to be orphaned nor to be adopted (as he himself admitted he did not think being taken in by Lin Kuei was anything good for him at that time), the same as Bi-Han was not asked by Grandmaster for approval (and even if he was, his objection apparently wasn’t taken into account as Grandmaster still adopted Tomas).

Smoke: "Father wanted us to be brothers." Sub Zero: "Yet another of the old man's foolish dreams." 

Note this: father wanted. Not hoped they will eventually find a common ground despite the not the best circumstances. He wanted to save honor. He wanted them to be brothers. Again, not sounding as taking into account what the kids wished for or needed and who knows, maybe Grandmaster wanted it so much, he pushed too hard to get the most comfortable solution for his own conscience - except Bi-Han simply never clicked with Tomas, whatever due to incompatible personalities or factors beyond their good will? I presume they all were still enough young when Tomas was brought into picture, but if Bi-Han is the eldest out of them three, then he could had his own duties that simply didn’t give him enough time to bond with the (culturally and ethically) different kid the way Kuai Liang did, again presumably, as closer in age to Tomas. 

But even if Bi-Han simply didn’t like Tomas, then it is still okay, because people can’t be forced to love or like others. Not liking someone though doesn’t give anyone the right to act disrespectful - yet so far, we only heard he was cold to Tomas but that does not necessary mean being intentionally cruel either. A human can be polite and still come off as emotionally cold (and let’s not forget that people can also be naturally introverts or fall into the autism/asocial disorders spectrum that makes it difficult to establish good relationships with strangers. We are familiar with MK1 Bi-Han for what? Maybe twenty minutes of story mode and through intro-dialogues that only gives us a sense of who he is at this point. We don’t even have an idea if cryomancer genes affect his perception of the world or behavior). 

Bi-Han as an adult person seems to come to terms with the situation to some extent and got used to the idea of an additional brother - his and Tomas relationship is tense and complicated but it is now tainted by their conscious choices, however in the past, if Bi-Han didn’t like Tomas for whatever understandable or petty reason, no one can demand from a kid to act as an adult and control/smooth their own emotions to solve the problem adults created in the first place. The whole situation wasn’t fair to Tomas and so wasn’t to Bi-Han either. 

Would it be sad to learn that Bi-Han has never liked Tomas or never come to love him the way he loved his biological brother? Yes. But not liking someone or not considering someone a family member is not a crime itself and is not an indication of being inherently evil. Be it fictional characters or real human beings, people sometimes simply don't like each other and they have the right to feel that way. Not liking each other though does not mean anyone is allowed to abuse or disrespect others, just to be clear here.

I like to think this should be obvious, but knowing fandom, it may indeed be the hot take.

[not-alien-girl-v]

bro im sad and need 75 fluff

Beside You (George Daniel)

i need u to know how badly i wanted to reply to this with ‘damn that sucks. goodluck tho’

warning: is this too fucked up. you can be honest with me. tw language also i make up my own sayings sometimes so if ur ever reading my work and thinking ‘who the fuck says that’ no one does except for me

note: this is fucked up because i feel like i relate to reader too much. anyways. read at ur own risk

2.8k

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Wallet, phone, gum, breath mints, polaroids, but no keys in her purse. She’s supposed to have them, anyway. George loves to get on her about it every time she forgets them, which is about 50 percent of the time.

And here she is, keyless, outside his house.

It’s like a cruel game, this entire situation. She can hear the laughter inside, voices of her closest friends pooled together in liquid form, swirling around in the room before her like an aquarium of dirty jokes and screaming laughter.

They’re all just on the other side of the door. Just a room away. Yet she’s still on the outside, looking in through some metaphorical window. The curtains are closed, the glass shut to keep the smell of weed and cigarettes inside.

She misses them, more than she can say, more than she thought she would.

‘The door is always open,” she can hear his words ringing through her head. ‘To you,’ an afterthought. She never knows what to make of it when he says things like that.

Again, though, metaphorically, the door is open. Physically? It’s locked tighter than her asshole.

So if not keys, what does she have? Dignity? It’s close to being out the window if she has to knock repeatedly until someone hears her and opens the door, even more so if she has to call him to open it, or any of them, really, she doesn’t want to seem desperate, at least not as desperate as she truly is.

God, she feels like a schoolgirl just at the thought of this whole ordeal. She’s in love with George Daniel. It’s not a hard thing to do, he’s basically the man of any girl’s dreams, but she was just fortunate enough (or perhaps, unfortunate enough) to become friends with him.

Him, and his stupid friends, his stupid house, his stupid locks.

She’s deciding what to do when, magically, the door swings open on its own. But it isn’t magic. It’s just George.

He grins, not like he’s happy to see her, but like he’s happy to be right, prove a point about something. He doesn’t greet her, he takes a step back, letting her cross the threshold on her own terms, and proudly exclaims to his dumbass friends scattered around the living room.

“I was right! I told you she’d be waiting outside like a creep!” Again, making no moves to interact with her at all. No ‘we’ve been apart for 4 months hug.’ No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I’m sorry I don’t answer when you call’, but somehow she loves how he doesn’t care.

He’s nonchalant, the ‘chill’ one of the group, always too high to care too much about anything, but it’s not a fault, not to her. Rose tinted glasses, or something.

Ross is on the single lounge chair, slumped down, joint pinched between the his pointer and thumb of his right hand, Adam sprawled out on the loveseat, stretching his legs out onto George’s previous seat, taking up the entire space of the couch since George got up and abandoned his cushy spot.

Matty’s on the floor. Matty was on the floor, but he twists onto his feet, approaching her in the door way.

“Y/N! It’s good to see your face,” he works his arms over both her shoulders, less of a mutual hug, more him holding her hostage in a death trap for a moment, firm pats and swipes on her clothed back. “I missed you,” that last part is muffled into her hair.

She watches George over Matty’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at Hann, pretending to sit on Ross’s lap for a second before dropping to the ground, legs crossed, and takes the joint from Ross. His mouth hollows around it as he inhales, carved cheekbones on full display.

He’s a spectacle to watch. If she had it her way, she’d never take her eyes off of him. But she can’t have it her way, not yet.

She gives Matty 3 firm rubs on the back, muttering a ‘missed you too’ into his neck, then ducks under his arms, sitting herself an appropriate distance from George on the floor, but close enough to show she wants more than friendship, if that’s even something that can be conveyed through sitting distance.

It’s these types of things that rot her brain every time she’s near him. It’s like a spell he puts her under, she can’t talk right, she gets all blushy and flushed and nervous when she looks at him, so she’s made a habit of looking anywhere else, the floor, her nails, his friends.

She’s snapped out of her daydream by George elbowing her in the ribs to grab her attention. “You want a hit?”

She allows herself a smidge of self-indulgence. Eyes trace his shoulder, rippling muscles under warm skin under colored tattoos, she wanders down it to his arms, veins protruding like he’s completing some impressive feat, one that requires complete contraction of all his muscles, yet between his fingers, all that lays is a tiny joint.

“Uh, yeah,” she decides to allow her fingers to gently brush his own, concluding it’s just the right amount of mix of longing and friendly gesture, romantic and platonic stirred into one touch, and this, this little action, this will be the moment George confesses his true love for her so she doesn’t have to do it first.

She could do it. She could say what she’s been biting her tongue about for years and years now. She could have done it any number of moments these past years.

The night before the boys left for tour, when George stopped by her house impulsively, out in the pouring rain for her until she let him in, and they talked and talked and talked until their throats ran raw and voices croaked. Any pause in the conversation, she could have blurted it out, pulled his lips to hers.

Halloween, 1 year ago, when she dropped acid and began to have a bad trip, she freaked out so hard she was almost inconsolable, when he locked the door behind them in her bedroom and wrestled her frantic self down onto her bed and held her there. He was so close, nearly every inch of his body molded to hers in some way, hell, she could feel his breath on the space behind her ear. They stayed like that for hours. She didn’t utter a word.

She will admit, things have been different as of late. These moments where she thinks she could almost say what she wants to are becoming sparse. Intense, deep moments that make her feel connected to him body and soul. She hasn’t been feeling it as much lately.

Maybe she was pulling away from him, maybe he was pulling away from her, but the distance from tour wasn’t the only space between them.

That didn’t stop her from missing him like hell every time he went away.

“By the way, Y/N, we ordered Chinese before you got here, there’s leftovers in the kitchen,” Adam mumbles to her, like it’s his only volume of voice. Has he ever yelled?

She nods, wordlessly, and walks to the kitchen, hoping to get away from the whirlwind of emotions she is being assaulted by from simply being in the presence of George. Years of friendship and it never gets easier.

She finished a small plate of food quietly in the kitchen. She hears the boys laughing in the room, on the other side of the wall.

Leaning over the sink, she scrapes the plastic fork against the edges of the now empty bowl.

“That was quick,” a voice from behind her, startling her so bad, she drops both items in the sink.

It’s him.

“I was hungry.”

He approaches from behind, getting too close than what she would consider a friendly distance, but George does this all the time.

What he doesn’t do all the time, however, is wrap his arms around her waist from behind. "Missed you," he speaks through an inhale, like he's breathing her in, toxic fumes that swirl around his lungs like smoke.

"Yeah, same." She's a fucking imbecile. How was he supposed to know she loved him when she says such dry things when he's here, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he does. Does he do this to all his female friends?

He hums, not prodding further about the way her voice is unexpectedly monotone. He releases her from his grip, reaching around her for a fortune cookie.

"You had one of these yet? They kind of taste like an old man's ear but I know you love the corny messages inside of them." He's right. She does love that. She loves that he knows she loves it. She loves him.

"Sure," she takes it from him, cracking open the shell and discarding the gross cookie on the counter behind them, as she does so, he settles himself in front of her, trapping her against the counter with both hands resting on it on either side of her, their chests not quite touching but she certainly can feel his warm body next to hers.

"What's it say?" He mumbles, not wanting his buddies to catch him in such a compromising position with one of his closest friends. Matty would surely give him hell for it. 'Why don't you ever treat me like that?'

If Matty weren't so hung up on Y/N, George would swear the boy was gay for him.

She unrolls the white paper. 'You only live once. 19 3 23 90.' Was this thing for real? Were the stars truly aligning so perfectly for her just this once. And the numbers, they're numbers engraved in the same sector of her brain, the sector containing all things George. When rearranged, they would spell out George's birthday. The 23rd of March, 1990.

Fuck, it was like God herself was here, screaming in Y/N's face, "this is a sign! This is a sign!" It was neon, bright pink and green, appearing over the man's head, reflecting of his bleached blond hair. George gazes patiently at her.

"YOLO," she says, and laughs without humor. He cackles, his loud, familiar witchy laugh that makes her weak at the knees, but she doesn't allow herself to swoon.

"No fucking way! Let me see that," he cruelly rips it out of her gentle fingers, eyeing it himself. He exhales a sigh, "what a fucking joke."

A sign. A sign. A sign.

"George. George?" She tries out his name like it's the first time. He doesn't suspect a thing, he glances innocently up at her from the fortune paper.

"Yes, love?" An arrow through her heart, piercing ang stinging, sharp.

"I..."

"What?"

"I love you. I love you. More than as a friend."

And he laughs. He laughs like she just told some tastefully dirty joke to him, like friends would, good friends, best friends. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious George. I'm in love with you. I have been for, I don't know, a long time.

He retreats. He backs away, smile wiped from his face.

"No, no." He tries to shake his head like disagreeing with her will make it not true.

"I am. I didn't know how to tell you, I swear, I lost count of all the times I almost did. I was so close for so long, but I was scared. Still am. Please." God, how pathetic does she sound right now. Please? This is not how she planned it. Where was the requited love confession? The passionate kiss? The foreheads pressed together like lovers would? It's nowhere to be found, she's afraid.

"Don't do this. Come on, we've got a good thing going, you and me. Don't ruin it, you're ruining it!" His voice starts to raise.

She fucked up big time.

"I'm ruining it? Me! You didn't call me for 4 months. 4 months, George. You didn't answer my texts, nothing! You left me with nothing for 4 fucking months! Then, when you finally get back, I come to see you and you say nothing! You said nothing to me! No, wait, you called me a creep for standing outside your house. No hug, no 'I missed you'. Nothing, George!"

"Look, I just didn't want to be all sappy about you in front of the guys. It would look... I don't know... weird."

"Oh, ok. So you weren't being all sappy when you were practically groping your ex-girlfriend in a room with everyone? Sucking face, sitting her on your lap, grabbing her tits, that's not too sappy for you. But saying hello to your best friend you haven't heard from in months? That's where you draw the line, huh? Can you just be honest with me? Can you just tell me the fucking truth?"

He's sure everyone's been hearing every single word of this, and to his surprise, no one has intervened yet. Not even Matty.

"Fine, Y/N. You want the truth? If you want it so bad, then you can have it. I knew you loved me. You're so obvious about it, God, I'm not fucking stupid. But I never felt the same way, so I didn't say anything. Is that a crime? It's nothing new to you, you're not my type. If we're both being honest, you're not the most attractive girl. It's not your fault. And it never bothered me because we're friends. Why can't we just be friends? Please, Y/N, stop doing this, you're only making it worse."

"You're such a dick! You're such a fucking dick!"

It's at this point, Matty and Ross pile into the room, Ross trying to diffuse the situation by attempting to escort George out of the tension-filled room, Matty trying to escalate the situation, giving George a slap to the face.

"What the fuck is your problem, asshole? After everything I told you? Everything we've been through?" Now Ross is attempting to pull George away from Matty, Adam joining in to separate Matty from George.

"She's my fucking friend! I'll deal with her how I want to!" George retorts. He attempts lunging at Matty but Ross, full-bodied and strong, holds him back.

"Sure, she's your fucking friend. So what? That means you have the right to treat her like shit when she tells you how she feels? You've been leading her on for years now! Everyone knows it. Ross, Adam, me, you brought this upon your fucking self and now the inevitable has happened and this is how you choose to deal with it! She's a human being, with real feelings, real emotions, and more than that, she's your best friend. Shouldn't that count for something at a time like this?"

The physical aggression has mostly gone away now, and Ross is unsure of what to do, should he break up the argument? Take sides? Back Matty up? Console the now sobbing Y/N? He takes frantic glances to Hann as he debates all the options, Hann, clearly doing the same. They stay frozen in their spots.

"I'm not in love with her. I don't love her, not like that, she just doesn't do it for me. I can't control that. I don't have to love her back, I can't. Besides, I thought you were the one head over heels for her. This should be your lucky day, after a tough rejection, you can swoop in on your white horse and take her for yourself. You should be thanking me, giving you an opening after all this ridiculous pining you've been doing."

"You're right, I do want her. I've wanted her to love me for as long as she's been hung up on you. But I'm a decent fucking guy, and I wouldn't want to start something with her, not under these circumstances. This is all wrong, this isn't right, George. She doesn't deserve this. She cares about you, she cares so much, and you knew this whole time, so obviously you should have known better than to go and treat her like this. Grow a pair, you cunt!" Matty finishes with a harsh poke to George's chest.

Unsurprisingly, George storms out, despite this being his own house, car keys in his pocket, and no one quite knows where he may be off to at a time like this but that's not anyone's main priority anymore.

Matty takes a moment to collect himself, trying to pretend like he's the only one in the room for a moment, before turning around to assess the situation, the girl he's been in love with.

He turns to see her crying into a hug from Ross, Adam unsurely rubbing her back in comfort, neither one of them certain on what to do. There's still so much left unsaid.

Once Ross takes notice of Matty's impatient gaze, he pats the girl's back, turning her in his grasp, trying not to feel bad about essentially handing her off to Matty, but at the moment, it seems like they need each other more than anyone needs Ross, so he does what he has to do. "Go to him, love," he mutters, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

Hesitantly, she approaches Matty, no idea of what is next to come.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel

[l0veraven]

why the fuck would you reclaim the violently transphobic webcomic instead of writing your own thing. awful. are you tme? don’t think i’ve ever met a tma leasebound enjoyer. funny.

I'm trans-masc (this is the first time I've seen the term TME so that was pretty cool to see), but there's more to it than just reclaiming the story.

I 100% disavow the author, Rusty, and her beliefs that she shoehorns into her story. Many of her characters are bland and one-note, and (even though the original story is wildly transphobic), it's turning the transphobia on its head and taking a critical look at transphobia while also focusing on the actual lesbian love story.

I'm not sure if I mentioned it in the Author's Notes from the top of my head, but the love story is heavily overshadowed by the story being a soapbox and shouting, "trans women are evil and ugly and [insert more insults here]." In my fic, I'm still bringing topics of gender into it, but in a way that, again, takes a deeper look and is an integral part of how the characters interact with each other.

We also need to talk about how allergic Rusty is to depicting men. That's actually another major issue I have. The flavor of terf/radfem beliefs that Rusty upholds is genuine misandry (prejudice/discrimination against men). I don't use misandry lightly and don't mention it much in conversation.

Chapter 12 actually highlights this point.

(Spoilers for people that haven't read the chapter)

Shez's backstory is explored and details how her trauma with her mother being in abusive relationships with men had negatively impacted everyone involved (the mother, siblings, and herself). The character being averse to men and having trauma is completely valid and I would never critique someone having PTSD. I, myself, have PTSD from abusive relationships (familial and otherwise) throughout my entire life, so this isn't something foreign to me, but everyone does experience trauma differently.

I bring up Shez's backstory because even though it's a perfect way to explain why she hates men, it perpetuates the idea that men are inherently violent, predatory, and abusive. This isn't helped by how Meriam, the mother, is genuinely heterophobic and refuses to acknowledge that therapy would be beneficial for her.

(Here are the heterophobic panels in question)

I understand where Meriam is coming from, even though I don't have the same trauma as her. It's understandable that she wouldn't want a man in her house. I see why she's avoidant of meeting Rissa's boyfriend. It's normal to avoid triggers.

What isn't normal is actively avoiding seeking help to work through trauma. This isn't to say she should invite men to her house and "get over it". It's that she needs to learn that not every man is out to hurt every woman they encounter. I had to get therapy myself in the past and had to learn that not every romantic partner will manipulate me, but need to establish boundaries to ideally avoid being in a situation like that again.

To point out the heterophobic lines (which is wild because this is the first time I've seen actual heterophobia in any piece of media)"

Rissa: "[...] SHANEZY doesn't NEED to date women. [... Your ex-husband] was ONE man, mum. ONE. [...] He treats me like a QUEEN. You'd know that if you just gave him a CHANCE!"

Meriam: "One chance is too many. Nice men are the best liars."

This is where Meriam is unable to see the nuances of human interaction. People with enough charisma, period, are the best liars. Could be Ted Bundy, could be your mother-in-law. Anyone and everyone is capable of lying and tearing a person down. Toxic lesbian relationships can and do exist. You don't avoid liars just by attracted to the same gender or only interacting with the same gender.

Rissa: "And WOMEN never lie?!? They're just perfect angels who can do no wrong?!"

Meriam: "Women cannot make you pregnant."

We'll look past the women being able to impregnate (trans women do exist, but that's besides the point). Rissa is making a very valid point. Anyone is capable of lying and you can't avoid toxicity by only avoiding one group of people. Liars exist in a variety of spaces and have a variety of identities. Men are not the only ones capable of bad behaviors.

Rissa: "[...] So my options are: be a fucking lesbian or die alone? Great!"

Meriam: "Rissa... I am not saying this."

But she is. To a degree. I'm assuming that Meriam would be fine if Rissa abstained from relationships entirely (but we can't forget that terfs tend to not acknowledge asexual and aromantic identities), as long as she wasn't with a man. In theory, assuming that Rissa is straight, she would unfortunately be pressured by her mother to remain single.

THE BIGGEST POINT HIGHLIGHTING THE HETEROPHOBIA HOWEVER:

Rissa: "What if we get married, hmm? You just won't come to the wedding? You won't meet his family? Nothing?!"

Meriam: "I cannot support this, but I cannot stop you either."

Rissa: "Well, I guess you'll just never see me after that then!"

Meriam: "You will always have a home here..."

THIS is the problem. Instead of trusting her daughter to ensure her own safety and establish hard boundaries in her relationship with someone she hasn't even met yet, she just doesn't trust men. Period. This dialogue is something that comes straight out of a conflict with a homophobic parent. Remember the lines, "I cannot support this, but I cannot stop you either," and, "You will always have a home here." This reeks of "I don't support your lifestyle, but I still love you and you're always welcome here. Just not your partner."

Why go on about heterophobia?

For one, it demonstrates how hating men is acceptable in the comic, because with how the conversation is treated within the comic, Rissa is the irrational one for not siding with her mother. The other aspect is that it perpetuates "man violent," which isn't really beneficial to anyone. It fails to understand the nuances of people as a whole.

We also can't forget the gay couple with a gender nonconforming son that only appeared for a split second and never returned. Again, Rusty is allergic to men. I actually hate how her friend rags on her "inability to draw men". I think it's untrue, and frankly, I like some aspects of Rusty's art style. However, Rusty herself has mentioned that she refuses to depict men in her comic (unless they're characters like Trinity AKA "Madame President" as shown in Chapter 13).

THE POINT IS:

Why not take a shitty piece of media and re-write it to make it better? It's kinda like being mad at all the anime abridged series out there because the original media is shitty in one way or another. Besides, the story itself has SO MUCH POTENTIAL, but it's completely ruined by the transphobia and focusing on that aspect rather than developing the relationship between Jaden and Riley.

This comic has been going on for 5 7 years and we got the backstory of a side character before getting a look at Riley's backstory. Focus on the main characters please. We haven't even gotten to the inevitable break-up between Riley and Blaire yet.

Who knows, maybe one day I can publish this fic as its own book like with 50 Shades of Grey 🙈

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 18

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘I ordered the section cleared,’ Damen said. Jord was intruding. At home in Akielos, he’d only have had to glance up from what he was doing and order, Leave us, and the intrusion would be gone. And he could go back to what he had been doing. To what, gloriously, he had been doing. He’d been kissing Laurent and that should not be interrupted. His eyes returned warmly, possessively to their object: Laurent looked like any young man who has been pressed against a battlement and kissed. The slight disturbance of the hair at Laurent’s nape was wonderful. His hand had lain there.

His attention swung back to the intruder. The threat that Jord posed to him was galvanising. What had happened was not going to be threatened by anything or anyone.

damen is about to laser jord to death with his eyes so he can keep kissing laurent

‘Here to warn me about the dangers of making command decisions in bed?’ Laurent said.

OUCH

‘While we compare notes on spreading for the enemy?’ said Laurent.

the fact that laurent knows he’s doing this too!!! he has convinced himself that he has control over this situation purely because it can’t last

Jord’s eyes had turned to Damen, full of bloody-mindedness. But, He is Damianos of Akielos, Jord didn’t say, though he looked strained to his limits with repulsion at what he had just seen, and the silence stretched out, thick and tangible with what lay underneath. Damen stepped forward. ‘Maybe—’

was he about to tell the truth?? like "maybe we should talk"

Damen passed a hand over his face. Everyone in the fort was coming to the section he had ordered cleared.

damen is more persistently frustrated by having his first kiss with laurent interrupted than he’d been like. getting flogged

‘Jord,’ said Laurent, ‘this is why he fucked you. This moment.’ ‘I know that,’ said Jord. ‘Orlant,’ said Laurent, ‘didn’t deserve to die alone on the sword of a self-serving aristocrat he thought was a friend.’

laurent lecturing a guy for compromising his values and integrity because he got laid, after kissing the dude who killed his brother… i mean laurent seems to think he’s still in control here, again with the cognitive dissonance thing, but still…

‘I should make you watch,’ said Laurent, ‘while he’s stripped down for every man in the troop to have him.’ Damen stepped forward. ‘You don’t mean this. You need him as a hostage.’ ‘I don’t need him continent,’ said Laurent. Laurent’s face was perfectly smooth, his blue eyes cool and untouchable. Damen felt himself recoil slightly from that callous look, the surprise of it. He realised that he had fallen out of step with Laurent at some crucial point. He wanted to send everyone away, so that he could find his way back.

damen surprised by laurent’s ability to immediately separate himself from his emotions and attractions to do stone-cold haterism… i feel like throughout the series damen is both frustrated by this and deeply attracted to it

He said, ‘If there’s to be justice for Aimeric, then let it be justice, reasonably decided, publicly applied, not the men taking matters into their own hands.’ ‘Then by all means,’ said Laurent, ‘let us have justice. Since you’re both so eager for it. Drag Aimeric away from his admirers. Bring him to me in the south tower. Let us have everything out in the open.’ ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

laurent is in a bad mood because of the interruption as well. broken out of the romantic haze, he probably wants to take out some of the anger he has with himself over kissing damen on another person who he can project his bullshit onto

‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘When I said there should be justice for Aimeric, I meant later, not now, when you’re . . .’ He searched Laurent’s face. ‘When we . . .’ He hit a look like a wall, and the uncaring lift of golden brows. Laurent said, ‘If Jord wants to get down on his knees for Aimeric, he should know exactly who he’s crawling for.’

okay laurent now you’re projecting. everyone here is a mess.

The south tower was crowned by a platform and a parapet pierced through not with useful rectangular slits but with slim, pointed arches, because this was Vere and there must always be some flourish...

yes damen please take that extra second to talk shit about the architecture to avoid dealing with the stressful situation you’re in

He knew that expression. His sense of danger, highly attuned to Laurent’s moods, told him that Aimeric was better off downstairs with a half dozen men than he was up here with Laurent. Laurent’s lids were smooth over a cool gaze, his posture straight-backed, his fingers poised on the rim of the goblet. I kissed him, thought Damen, the idea unreal here in this small circular stone room. The warm, sweet kiss had been broken in a moment of promise: the first slight parting of lips, the hint that Laurent had been on the cusp of allowing the kiss to deepen, though his body had been singing with tension. When he closed his eyes, he felt how it might have happened: slowly, Laurent’s mouth opening, Laurent’s hands lifting hesitantly to touch his body. He would have been careful, so careful.

damen brain: oh shit laurent’s pissed off. he’s going to eviscerate that guy. but also he was so soft and sweet when we kissed and i want to get back to that because i’d treat him so well <3

‘The loving reunion,’ said Laurent.

laurent you’re so fucked up for this. deal with the fact that you just kissed your brother’s murderer and liked it, instead of antagonizing this dumbass and your friend. although is he antagonizing jord, really? he might be trying to absolve jord of his guilt, exposing aimeric for being completely unworthy of his sympathy. which, i mean, is what some part of laurent probably wants to do to damen right now—remind himself that damianos is not worthy of his own sympathy or love. these people are so messy they need a reality tv film crew

Jord made a violent move forward, and Damen felt his whole body come under strain as, instinctively, he pushed in to halt him.

i don’t know if this is a lamen hr complaint. i don’t think so. damen almost certainly disagrees with laurent for lashing out and hitting aimeric, but also, he enables it by stopping jord. but i feel like everything about this situation is acting against the employee handbook anyway so who the fuck cares

In the first burst of movement, Damen had flung Jord ungently back, then held him off in a restraining grip. Jord had gone still but the strain of muscle was still there, his breathing harsh. Laurent replaced the goblet, with exquisite precision, on the table.

it’s a little hot that laurent has himself a bodyguard who will enable his pretty (typo for petty but that works too) violence ngl

Damen heard Aimeric say, thickly, ‘You can hit me as much as you like.’ ‘Can I? I think we’re going to enjoy each other, you and I. Tell me what else I can do to you.’

so laurent didn’t know it was aimeric. since learning, do you think he’s figured out that the regent specifically has been using/abusing him? obviously he figures it out/finds out eventually, but i’m curious about this scene, esp with what he says a few paragraphs later.

also the contrast between verging-on-sweet kissy laurent and sadistic bitchy laurent is mwahhhh pacat does not like to make things simple or easy

‘Stop this,’ said Jord. ‘He’s just a boy. He’s just a boy, he’s not old enough for this, he’s scared. He thinks you’re going to wreck his family.’

aimeric is 19, laurent is 20...

Aimeric turned his bruised, bloody face to the words, in disbelief that Jord was defending him. Laurent turned to face Jord at the same time, his golden brows arching.

well there’s a parallel. laurent reacts with similar disbelief when damen demonstrates earnest devotion to him

Uneasiness swept over him as he looked from Laurent’s face to Aimeric’s, and realised suddenly and for the first time how close Laurent and Aimeric were in age. There was six months’ difference between them, at most.

that's what i'm saying!!

‘But it’s not his family he’s fighting for.’

regent has entered the chat

Like a lover, Laurent smiled and touched a stray curl, tucking it behind Aimeric’s ear. Aimeric flinched, violently, then repressed the flinch, though he wasn’t able to control his breathing. Tenderly, Laurent drew a fingertip through the blood that welled from Aimeric’s split lip. ‘Pretty face,’ said Laurent. Then his fingers dropped back to brush Aimeric’s jaw, tilting it up as though for a kiss. Aimeric made a choked sound in response to pain; the bruised flesh under Laurent’s fingers was white. ‘I bet you were a peach of a little boy. A pretty peach. How old were you when you fucked my uncle?’

do you think that’s what the regent does… yeah probably. everyone here needs so much therapy

‘Did he tell you you’d be together again, if you’d just do this one thing? Did he tell you how much he missed you?’ ‘Shut up,’ said Aimeric. ‘He was lying. He wouldn’t take you back. You’re too old.’ ‘You don’t know,’ said Aimeric. ‘Thick-voiced and rough-cheeked, you’d make him sick.’ ‘You don’t know anything—’

damen not Getting It is important to the plot but also come ON damen

‘Loves you? You paltry little upstart. I doubt he even preferred you. How long did you hold his attention? A few fucks while he was bored in the country?’ ‘You don’t know anything about us,’ said Aimeric. ‘I know he didn’t bring you to court. He left you in Fortaine. You never asked yourself why?’ ‘He didn’t want to leave me. He told me,’ said Aimeric. ‘I bet you were easy. A few compliments, a little attention, and you gave him all the naive pleasures of a country virgin in his bed. He would have found it diverting. At first. What else is there to do in Fortaine? But the novelty wore off.’ ‘No,’ said Aimeric. ‘You’re pretty enough, and you were obviously hot for it. But used goods are not appealing unless they are something worth using. And the cheap wine you drink in a backwater tavern is not the kind that you serve at your own table, given choice.’

so yeah laurent def means this. it’s not quite pure projection because it’s true, but also… is he not saying the same things to himself about finally giving in to his own attraction to damen, who is leaving him tomorrow to go be the prince again?

‘My uncle is discriminating. Not like Jord,’ said Laurent, ‘who’ll take a middle-aged man’s sloppy seconds and treat it like it’s worth something.’

that's true. sorry jord

‘You cold-blooded son of a bitch,’ Jord said to Laurent. His voice was shaky. Laurent rounded on him, deliberately. ‘And then of course,’ said Laurent, ‘there’s you.’

jord RUN

To Laurent, in the same voice, he said, ‘Calm down.’ Laurent said, ‘I wasn’t finished.’ ‘Finished what? Reducing every man in the room? Jord isn’t any kind of match for you in this mood, and you know it. Calm down.’

god i love them i love them i love them they make me insane. damen stepping in like laurent is a cat antagonizing a mouse, “i wasn’t finished” has the slightest edge of pathetic acquiescence to it, like the cat has stopped with the mouse but it’s glaring at the owner who stepped in, and damen being like “you’re too powerful sweetie you know it’s not an even match and i don’t like seeing you like this, it’s not good for you, calm down” they make me CRAZY!!!!

‘Are you going to try it with me? Or do you only take pleasure in attacking those who cannot defend themselves?’ Damen heard the hardness in his own voice.

book 1 callback! and rightfully so!

‘I don’t share your craven habit of hitting only those who cannot hit back, and take no pleasure in hurting those weaker than myself.’ Driven past reason, the words came out in his own language. Laurent, who could speak his language, stared back at him, and Damen met his eyes and did not regret his words, feeling nothing but loathing.

‘I remember the last time you were like this. You blundered so badly you gave your uncle the excuse he needed to have you stripped of your lands.’

he's riiiiiiight

Abruptly, Laurent turned away. He put the heels of his palms on the table, gripping its edge, standing with his head down, his arms stiffly braced, tension across his back. Damen watched his ribcage expand and deflate, several times. Laurent was still for a moment, then, sharply, he swept his forearm across the table, a sudden, single movement that sent gilt plates and their contents crashing to the floor. An orange rolled. Water from the pitcher dripped from the table’s edge onto the floor. He could hear the sound of Laurent’s unsteady breathing. Damen allowed the silence in the room to stretch out. He didn’t look at the wrecked table, with its spilled meats, its scattered plates and overturned, fat-bellied pitcher. He looked at the line of Laurent’s back. As he had known to send the others out, he knew not to speak. He didn’t know how much time passed. Not long enough for the tension in Laurent’s back to unwinch. Laurent spoke without turning around. His voice was unpleasantly precise. ‘What you are saying is that when I lose control, I make mistakes. My uncle knows that, of course. It would have been an amusing pleasure for him to send Aimeric to work against me, you’re right. You, with your barbaric attitudes, your brutish, domineering arrogance, are always right.’ Laurent’s hands on the table were white. ‘I remember that trip to Fortaine. He left the capital for two weeks, then sent word he was extending it to three. He said it was his business with Guion that needed more time.’ Damen took a step forward, called by the tone in Laurent’s voice. Laurent said, ‘If you want me to calm down, get out.’

the homosexual having a panic attack...

anyway laurent is also confronting the fact that he lost control with damen, leading him to make a mistake. and that the regent sent/gifted him damen hoping that would happen. hence the gtfo.

[thinking-emoji]

wait you’re cooking. it wasn’t a hiatus (just a dapg hiatus) it just wasn’t the content everyone wanted/liked/were used to/whatever.

writing a book and pitching shows and preparing and going on tour is hard work. he was working he just… wasn’t like live streaming writing lol. also he was extremely depressed for a while. obviously that warrants a break.

but i do think you’re right about people just not liking it so they just kind of black it out. which like, if you don’t like something, fine. but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t doing anything. and also, like you said, covid fucked everyone’s sense of time so like. it feels like it’s been 50 billion years since 2018, not 6. which obviously doesn’t help.

Thank you! People in the notes of the post also pointed out how dnp had been doing A Lot of work in the mid 2010s (remember when we had 3 liveshows every week, including one on the BBC?), so it didn't help that phannies were unbelievably spoiled in terms of regular content. But I also don't think it's fair to dnp to expect them to never change the type of content they want to put out. Like, phannies keep saying they'd still love weekly livestreams where Dan just sits at his desk and yaps for an hour, and like. I'm sure he could do that. But I genuinely don't think he'd be more successful with it than with what he did do.

Like. Look at the other popular youtubers from the time of dnp's zenith. Zoella stopped posting. Marcus Butler stopped posting. Troye Sivan has fully pivoted towards music. Connor Franta gets 40k views on his videos. Tyler Oakley streams on twitch? For 60k subscribers, idk how many people he's usually got online in there? And like, the big guns? Shane Dawson? Pewdiepie? Should've quit! Jenna Marbles? Did quit!

I'm rambling on again but like. People need to understand that being a YouTuber from 2014 is not a long-term sustainable job. I honestly think it's almost a miracle that the phandom is still so committed and that they managed to keep their engagement so high (coming out at a time when most people expected their careers to be over probably helped a lot though. To be clear I don't think they came out in order to revive their careers, not at all, but I'm convinced it helped. A lot.)

But yeah what I was saying is. I get that phannies want the content they know and that they grew to love dnp for. So do I!!! But I think we're overestimating our stamina in watching the same thing for years and years and years without ever getting a taste of what it feels like to *miss* that thing. I don't know if the gaming channel return would have been as successful as it was if they both (especially Dan) hadn't disappointed us a little before. And like, I'm kinda sad for Dan bc I don't think that was his plan. I would love to like WAD! I would love to see the vod have millions of views! But unfortunately, I don't love it, and I don't want to click on it when I see it in my recommended, and it feels even more disrespectful to give it sympathy views. Because I want to have fun watching Dan and Phil. And I think we all do.