#and i understand the harsh circle of not being here means no attention means not being here

[generationa1trauma]

I am kissing u all on the forehead

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[yelenasdiary]

OK OK OK I have a request go with me here. What about Florence with an insecure reader but she’s plus size she’s insecure about like sitting on Florence’s lap (and face 😗) so maybe like a fluffy smut or something idk I just haven’t been feeling to good about my body these days. You 100% don’t have to do this. Ok love you bye!!!!😘

Why Me?

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Flo helps you cope when your mind gets the better of you.

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Body image issues, Mentions of Depression & Cyber Bullying| 1.3K

AC: I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t include any smut or suggestive themes as I simply do not do that when writing celebrity x reader so I hope what I have written is still somewhat what you were looking for x

Dating a celebrity wasn't easy, especially when you never thought you were built for the spotlight of any kind. Birthdays were usually small just to keep the attention off you as much as possible and you never liked it much when people would make a fuss about your achievements. You were shy, but it was one of the many things Florence, your girlfriend, loved about you. 

Florence absolutely loves showing you off. At family events, she was always seen proudly holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist. It took a long time for her to get you to say yes to attending a red-carpet event with her. Florence had this way of making you smile and laugh when you didn't know you needed it the most, it was like she was always one step ahead of your insecurities and thoughts. 

But not everything was rainbows and butterflies. The world can be cruel, not matter how big or small you are, people are always going to express their opinions and it was one of the biggest things that Florence quickly noticed that was affecting you. Whenever the paparazzi snapped photos of you and Florence hand in hand walking the streets of LA or the rare chance that caught you kissing in a busy café in London, there were always comments. 

Harsh and cruel comments directed mostly to you, comments on your body, weight and how people couldn't understand why Florence was with you. Most of the time you were able to avoid seeing them or ignored them whenever you did see them but being human, they got to you sometimes. You've struggled with thoughts about yourself for a while and it never helped when your depression would side with those thoughts. Florence hated the comments, and she would know when you had read some. 

"What's on your mind darling?" Florence's raspy voice brought your attention back to earth as you looked up from the plate of food in front of you. "Huh? Oh, sorry" you quickly collected yourself, "I'm just a little tired, I think I might be coming down with something" you added. Florence tilted her head slightly to the right, "don't give me that" she said knowing you weren't being truthful with her. 

You sighed, placing the silver fork beside the plate of untouched food, you knew there was no hope in lying to her. She studied your body language while you racked your brain to form the words you wanted to say but not wanting to upset your girlfriend. "I guess, I just" you started, avoiding eye contact with the blonde knowing full well that if you looked into her big green eyes that the tears you felt trying their best to build would break. Florence reached over the table and gently placed her hand on top of your left, "it's okay baby, take your time" she assured you. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before you finally broke it and spoke the thoughts that had been circling your mind for the last few days. "Why me?" You asked, "I mean, you could have anybody in the world, I mean that literally. You could have somebody who isn't….well…. me" you spoke, your eyes dropping to your lap. 

Florence rose from her seat and walked over to you and kneeled, taking your hands into hers. "Look at me darling, please" she spoke. Slowly, you lifted your head up, looking at her with tears building up, "where is this coming from?" She asked, her thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. A tear streamed down your right cheek when you saw nothing but love and concern from your partner, "I guess" you paused for a moment, "I feel so ugly" you said, "sometimes I think everybody is right, you can do a lot better than me" you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Without hesitation, Florence stood up and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Oh darling" she said softly. She didn't need to know how this all started, she noticed recently how you were slowly hiding yourself away from those around you, avoiding going out to lunch with Florence, afraid of what more people would say. She hated it so much that people could be so cruel and not think about what their words could do to another human. She gently rubbed your back, letting you break down in her arms. You were tired and she knew that. 

She kneeled down in front of you again, wiping the tears from your cheeks, "I don't want anybody else, I don't need anybody else" she assured you, "You don't see yourself the way I see you, all those strangers don't see you the way I see you, they don't see the beautiful soul that makes my day better every morning, they don't see how hard working you are. You care so, so much about every single person around you, you make sure that everybody feels seen and included and it's something I love about you, but it also makes me wonder why you don't treat yourself with the same kindness. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met; I am so lucky that you picked me. I am so lucky to love you. I love that I get to wake up next to you every morning and coming home to you is all I look forward to each day. Darling, nobody is perfect but you are perfect to me and I know that sounds cliché but I wouldn't have you any other way. I just want you to be happy" she said, ever breaking eye contact with you. She brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "how about this weekend you and I take a trip, wherever you want to go. We'll take some time away from everything and just enjoy our time" she suggested. 

You nodded, loving the idea of not having to worry about your insecurities. Although they didn't go away completely but Florence always had a magic way of making you forget about them. 

----

The sun kissed the top of the lake that you looked over, sitting on Florence's lap while she traced random shapes and patterns on your back. Like the sun, her presence and comfort brought a sense of warmth to you. Nothing else mattered in this moment but spending it with the one person you loved and adored so much. The weekend had only started, you and Florence had booked out a lake house for the weekend to enjoy, arriving in the early hours of the morning Florence still was able to cook up an amazing breakfast which the two of you enjoyed on the porch overlooking the lake. 

"It's so beautiful here" you commented as your eyes traced over the mountains that overlooked the lake. Florence smiled softly, "it is, isn't it" she replied. Although she didn't care much for the view of the lake but more the soft smile that you wore proudly. She placed a kiss on your cheek which only made you blush at her unexpected affection. 

"Thank you" you said as you looked over your shoulder at Florence, "I'm sorry that my mind gets the better of me sometimes" you added. 

"Oh darling, you don't need to apologise nor thank me" she smiled before leaning up and kissing your lips gently, "just promise me that when you start to feel down again, you talk to me. I am always here for you, my love. I'd drop everything just to see you smile, never forget that" she added before you kissed her once more, smiling against her lips before you pulled away. 

"I love you" you whispered to her.

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[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

It's time we get back to the angel duo.

To those re-reading the fic on ao3, you'll notice some dialogues or descriptions have either been added or changed so it's not an exact replica of the chapters here. It's like little easter eggs of what I didn't get to put back then.

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

Gabriel: How dare you, Michael!

In an obscure corner of Heaven, sat the six remaining Archangels, engaged in a heated debate over what had just transpired between Michael and Lucifer and the Fates. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. It's as awkward as you think being Emily and Sir Pentious in the room who seemed to fade into the background amidst the chaos.

The moment the others arrived, any semblance of order was thrown out the metaphorical window as questions upon questions were asked all at once. Sir Pentious stood rigidly at attention, though his efforts went unnoticed by the bickering Archangels. He's stiffer than Emily and she...

Emily has never been in a situation as tense like this before; even counting the disastrous court hearing with Charlie.

Since her creation, she had always been told that these are the most fearsome angels in Heaven; that they are both merciful and merciless, especially when it comes to protecting Heaven.

Sera: We strive to be like them, Emily. Our actions must all lead to one goal: safeguarding Heaven.

Emily: But Lucifer was their brother!

Sera: Those in power are always faced with harsh choices. And they stay in power because they can make those choices.

Emily: I still don't understand.

Sera: As Head Seraphim, I am also faced with constant challenges. But I do it all to protect our home. But you, you are still learning. And for now.. this shall be my burden to carry.

Emily: But.... What if I mess up?

Sera: That is why I will teach you, Emily. You still have so-

Emily: No! I mean.. The stories said that Lucifer was their most precious brother but he was still cast down. So what I mess up, Sera?

Sera: What?

Emily: Will you cast me down too?

Sera never did give her answer.

Uriel: How could you keep this from us, Michael? Do we not deserve to know such vital information? Especially when it's about our dear Samael?

Michael: I understand you're all angry. But I only found out mere days ago. I kept coming back just to check if my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I wanted to be sure-

A resounding bang echoed through the room as the Archangel of Healing forcefully slammed his palms onto the table, causing a collective flinch amongst everyone.

Rapahel: Bullshit! You were going to keep this all to yourself again; just like everything concerning Samael!

Jophiel, who is next to him, is rubbing circles in her brother's back in an attempt to calm Raphael down.

Jophiel: Given your track record concerning our little brother, we have every right to doubt you right now.

Camael: I think what they're trying to say is that you should've told us the second you found out. It doesn't matter if you're not sure, we can be there to help you figure it out. Something as concerning as Samael's death... that is not something you keep for as long as you should have.

Sir Pentious: Lucifer.

A sudden quiet fell over the assembled angels as their attention shifted towards the unexpected source of the interruption.

Emily stares at Sir Pentious is slight horror because her new friend just interrupted the Archangels' conversation.

Camael: I'm sorry?

Emily: Sir Pentious! You can't speak to them like-

But the snake only repeats himself.

Sir Pentious: Hisssssss Majesty's name isssss Lucifer.

For an agonizing minute, no one spoke. Whether it's because of Sir Pentious' correction or their presence, Emily isn't sure.

It was Michael who broke free from the collective stupor. With a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the weight of responsibility present upon his face. Emily braced herself, anticipating a reprimand for their intrusion, but to her surprise, the Sword of Heaven merely nodded in acknowledgment.

Michael: He's right. We can't keep disrespecting Sa- Lucifer's wishes even if he isn't here with us.

That broke whatever freezing spell the others had, confusion now paints their features.

Gabriel: I'm sorry who are these people?

While that question was directed at Michael, the Archangel of Wisdom directed theirs on the two of them.

Uriel: Who are you?

Emily: I'm uhm Emily, Your Heavenly Grace. I'm the Seraphim in training under Sera.. and this is Sir P-Pentious. Our uh newly redeemed soul from Hell.

She said the last part almost in a whisper but it seems like they all heard it nonetheless because they are now looking at them with pure disbelief.

Camael: Redeemed?!

Jophiel: From Hell?!

Raphael: Are you saying that this was once a sinner soul?!

Sir Pentious took a bit of an offense to that.

Sir Pentious: This has a name. I am the great Sir Pentiousssss, inventor and former resssssident of the hellish realm!

Uriel: H-How is that possible? Were you planning on keeping this from us too, Michael?

Michael and Emily both stood up so fast at that accusation.

Michael: No! I only knew of this today!

Emily: He didn't know!

The Messenger of God only raised an eyebrow at this and crossed his arms, a silent gesture to explain further.

Michael falls to his chair looking more tired than ever before.

Michael: Apparently, this soul arrived here months ago but the Head Seraphim chose not to mention anything to me or any of you.

Emily: Sera just wanted to know how it happened before telling anyone but with what happened that last... extermination, I think she was afraid.

Gabriel: She had the right to. What was she thinking?! First approving of this yearly genocide behind our backs and now this redeemed soul?! Tell me, young Seraph, are there any other secrets you're keeping from us?

Emily: I-

As multiple eyes manifested across the Archangel's form, a tangible sense of unease swept through the room. Michael then made a decisive move, positioning himself firmly between his brother and Emily, a silent but unmistakable gesture of protection.

Michael: There's no more, Gabe. Aside from this soul's-

Sir Pentious: ehem

Michael: -sorry, Sir Pentious' current redeemed status, Sera knows as much as us. Isn't that correct, young Emily?

Emily: Uh- Yes! We have no idea how, he just showed up in a beam of light suddenly. Please believe us.

As Uriel also positioned himself in front of Gabriel, his gaze a silent warning, Gabriel relented, reverting to his usual form and taking a seat, the tension visibly vanishing from his posture.

Michael gives him a silent thank you and controls himself.

Michael: Young Seraph, as much as we are delighted to know that redemption is possible, with the threat of a war hanging upon us, it is too dangerous right now to grant new souls in. We cannot do anything about the current human souls that is entering our gates but we can control those coming from Hell. So we can't let it be known for now- in Heaven or in Hell.

Emily understands but she still felt anger bubbling inside her. This is supposed to be good news! They finally told the top angels and they still need to keep it a secret? Charlie would be so hurt not knowing that her dream is becoming a reality.

Raphael: Damn the war, Michael! Our baby brother is going to die! I am not gonna make the same mistake twice by choosing Heaven over my own sibling. Never again.

Gabriel: What he said.

Emily can't count anymore how many times the Head Archangel had sighed throughout their encounter.

Michael: I know. I would like nothing more that to prevent that. But.. this is the Fates.

Uriel: ...He's right. We all know that even Father can't change what has already been woven.

Jophiel: So what? We just sit here and let Lucifer die?

Michael: Lucifer does not want our help. And we cannot stop Fate. This war will happen and Lucifer will perish in it.

Camael: Then what can we do?

.

.

.

Michael: We delay it.

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

Forgive me if it's a bit messy.

If you can't tell this is kind of in Emily's POV.

I love Sera okay but if I kept a secret as messed up as a genocide, I would probably refrain from telling my bosses that we there was probably no need for it anyway after finding out that redemption is real.

I'd also like to think that the Archangels are just as emotion-driven as Lucifer but only in front of their family. Anyone outside of them sees them as stoic and cold (that's why that is how Emily sees them).

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

With the Harry Potter debate I do want to point out that a lot of the Harry Potter fans out there have gone so crazy over it that they were the ones that ruined the fandom. Most fans can distance themselves from hateful author view but in this case that didn’t happen. I have seen trans people called transphobic over liking Harry Potter. I meet people who hate her views who avoid admitting they like the books because of how crazy people go over mentioning it. For many people that book was a big part of their childhood and now you get shamed for liking it.

Banning it from being in things like this fuels that toxic environment and honestly I think the people who go out of their way to attack and get rid of Harry Potter stuff do just as much to create harmful toxic environments.

(Note: this is coming from a bigender person who has had this discussion with other trans and non binary people who have agreed)

+ Hey this is the anon who just sent the hp thing I just realized it probably sounded harsh sorry. You don’t need to publicly answer it I just wanted to get some stuff out there because I’ve had a lot of issues with this in the past. Sorry for the angry sounding ask

____

i'll put my thoughts under the cut cuz it's long. my half asleep rambling

This doesn't have much to do with my blog, but I agree that harassing people over liking things created by bigoted authors isn't the way to go about it. There were big scandals when hogwarts legacy released over streamers crying on camera and whatnot because they were called transphobic. While I think it's stupidly easy to not send Rowling money for anything, me harassing others over it doesn't help my community.

People, especially on the internet, also like to focus on the smaller, more easily manageable issues. Instead of fighting conversion therapy, rights in politics, legalization, extend the life expectancy etc, we like to focus on smaller tasks like getting one person to stop buying the books. Because it's one of the only things we're able to do in our situation. So I think that there are way bigger issues that should be tackled, but I understand how intimidating those issues are.

Even though it's not a huge deal that one person pays money for a book, it's also important to remember that a small amount makes a large difference even in things like this, because Rowling invests part of her money into transphobic means. But from my understanding, a lot of Harry Potter fans stay in their own fandom circles and don't buy official products.

Harry Potter will stay banned on this blog because it makes people here more comfortable, but also to not bring attention to her works, and it probably also serves as a reminder that you should question the media you consume. There are ways to go about it, like my first and only hp poll, I don't feel like my blog is a toxic environment for hp fans because it hasn't even been brought up on here for a long time. And I also don't think that people should feel oppressed for liking the series.

I think that's all, but yeah I don't have anything against lgbt+ and ally harry potter fans and wish them no harm, but it will stay banned on this blog.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; eustass kidd as a college student

summary: my headcanons of kidd as a college student in the modern world. no dfs here. part two here tw: afab!reader, nothing sussy here dw

* studies metallurgy or mechanical engineering

* insanely good at physics and chemistry 🫦

* but very emotionally and people dumb

* would wear graphic tees with rolled sleeves, ripped jeans, ankle boots

* eyeliner and lipstick on AT ALL TIMES

* is always late to class

* would be an overachiver

* makes every little thing a competition

* however, not an active student. he's just active when he wants to speak up about something he knows

* the typa student who does last minute reviews before exams and/or quizzes yet still manage to get a high mark

* lives in dorms with the other kidd pirates

* always have boys' nights where they just watch horror and scare each other, play games, or just get drunk

* not active in extracurriculars, he couldn't care less (unless it's related to his course or he's interested abt something it offers)

* know him as "that one hot redhead who always has a frown in his face and always gets into fights with the professors"

* would always banter with profs; not to disrespect them, but he's smart enough to butt heads with the professors. although his intention is to purely state what he knows is right, he always ends up disrespecting them bc of his language and attitude and gets demerits lmao

* kidd as a groupmate is a pain in the ass; he never replies and only does when he feels like it—which is rarer than rare. he replies to comply on the day before the deadline 🤬

* whenever there's debates, he's your man. mans got no filter and actually say stuff that no one wants to (e.g. controversies like church vs state, gray areas, taboos, gov't corruption, etc.), but only with a foul language

* submits tasks late 😫

* his handwriting is like this. he don't care abt pen width, brand, and type

* would visit nightclubs and bars seldomly, have hook ups and flings here and there but nothing was serious enough for him to go crazy for. he'd be with them one night max, he's the type of guy to leave afterwards 😭

his relationship with you:

* if you were just a blockmate he'd never even bat an eye at you let alone know you exist

- unless you caught his eye bc of your attractiveness physically or mentally

- if you haven't done anything remarkable to catch his attention, you're good as a rock to him

* if you're friends with him and is part of his circle:

- kidd being friends with you means that he can not only tolerate you but you can also measure up to and endure his feistyness

- that is tantamount to him being interested with you

- whenever a topic is blurry to you, he'd call you "dumb, birdbrain, shit for brains, etc" each time he explains and you still don't understand. but he would always accurately and patiently piece it out for you step by step, there's just some harshness that comes with it

- would always treat you to his and yours' favorite place after school whenever he sees you tired and bummed out after classes. would always tell you that "cmon i'll feed you some real fuckin' food, better than those ugly ass instant noodles you always have at your dorms." secretly loves seeing you eat and be full after meals

- each time your circle goes out, he'd always be seated next to you, is always close to you, or keeps an eye on you saying "you'll kill yourself with your dumb ass if i don't keep an eye on you." but that's just an excuse, cuz he likes looking at you

- study dates! well, he refuses to call them dates; just like how he refuses his feelings towards you. but would always insist on regularly doing this

> he doesn't really need the study dates, he's smart enough to excel on his own. he just wants an excuse to spend time with you, be close to you, teach you, make you laugh, and eat with you

- would he confess? he would, drunk. it'd start when you ask him to stop since he had too much to drink, he'll cup your face and tell you with flushed cheeks as his breath stinks from alcohol, he'll proclaim how much he adores you and how cute you are. he'll regret it in the morning and would avoid you for days.

- when you two get together, you two are inseparable. pda is clear as day. he's clingy af, would always link arms with you during lectures, rubbing circles on your soft skin. would let you put your thighs over his lap and stroke them fondly. when you put your head down during class as a result from weariness, his fingers with red-lacquered nails combs through your hair to soothe you. would always have an arm around you, whether above your shoulder or waist.

- his go to destressing activity is game/movie night with you and his circle

dreamy sighs 0~0

[tearfallpixie]

Make Mama Happy - Chapter 5

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1 @somewhere-diamond @miss570

The tour gave me three weeks of reprieve from the whole fake dating situation which I was grateful for, but it didn’t mean that I was completely clear of it. His mum had somehow acquired my number and insisted I come over to help set up decorations since Thanksgiving was a few days after the boys returned from tour. I wanted to get out of it but once again she insisted, and I didn’t exactly have work as an excuse on a Sunday when she checked my winery’s hours.

“I promise I’ll be there Sunday, Mrs. Mauro.” I promised.

“Bring Ricky’s lovely girlfriend too! I know her family is out of state and so is Ricky’s so I don’t want her to be lonely.” Rosa told me.

“I will check and see if she’s available.” The thought of having her there made me both happy and nervous. Happy because then I wouldn’t be the focus of attention but also nervous because I didn’t need her slipping up and blowing our cover. I hung up the phone and sighed as I turned back to my paperwork. I had finally caught up on all the event planning for the winter and just had to finish these last two documents. I sighed as I dialed the familiar number of my best friend in my phone and put it on speaker before picking up my pen.

“Good Morning Chole. Aren’t you at work?” Heather asked.

“I am but I got an invitation to help decorate the Mauro house for Thanksgiving and Rosa insisted I invite you as well. If you are interested.” I told her. The numbers that I was trying to focus on were blurring in my head so I had to set my work down with an exasperated groan.

“Mrs Mauro? I would think you wouldn’t talk to her outside of requirements with Vinny.”

“Apparently she stole my phone number from him and is insisting we come so we aren’t lonely. She even went as far as checking my works hours so I didn’t have an excuse when she said ‘I know your work is closed on Sunday’.” I said in my best improvisation of her voice making both of us laugh. “Vinny practically begged me not to go but I intend to make his parents love me.”

“He’s still being an ass?”

“He got it from Richard, so it doesn’t surprise me.” I grumbled.

“Rick has apologized.” She protested.

“Vinny hasn’t. I still hate him so I’m going to make his family love me and then when we break up, they’ll see him for the asshole he is.” I explained.

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” She mumbled.

“Isnt lying about me flirting with your boyfriend behind your back?” I took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t want to fight. I just don’t want to do this alone. Please come with me?” I could tell she was contemplating behind the silence, and the longer it lasted the more nervous I got.

“Fine. But only because I love Mama Mauro. I don’t condone what either of you are doing. But I also understand why you are upset.” I let out a breath of relief that I didn’t know I was holding.

“Thank you so so so much.” I gushed.

“Yeah, whatever. You owe me. We’re having a movie night to pay me back.” She ordered and I laughed.

“Fine, fine. I’ll pick up the ice cream and booze and we can wallow about how much we miss our boys.” I teased.

“That includes shitty romcoms.” The last time we had a movie night was a few months ago when motionless was on their last tour and I hadn’t realized how much I needed one.

“Perfect. I’ll see you at 7.” The phone clicked and I finally decided to set the papers aside to finish later. After checking the cameras and seeing that it was a slow day at the winery, I decided to open some of my old stories and read over them, amused by how poorly they were written and correcting some mistakes here and there. I had forgotten how much I loved writing and sitting there working on my writing made the time fly by.

“Knock, knock.” I looked up from my computer to see Rachel standing in the doorway. “Weren’t you supposed to be out of here like 20 minutes ago?” I glanced at the time and cussed under my breath, seeing that it was already 6:20. I quickly saved my document and shoved my unfinished paperwork in my bag to complete over the weekend.

“Thank you. I’m having a movie night with my friend and I’m supposed to be home by 7.” I moaned.

“I was wondering why the light in the office was still on when I finished cleaning up from the day.” She giggled. I grabbed my coat and pulled it on tightly to stave off the cold weather that was blowing in. “I’m going to head out. If this winter weather gets too bad I don’t want to be stuck here through the weekend.”

“Drive safe. Please text me when you get home.” She nodded and we went to our separate vehicles with a wave. I quickly went to the store and picked up the promised ice cream and booze before heading home and arriving moments before Heather.

“What took you so long?” She teased me.

“I got sidetracked by working on my stories.” I shrugged, taking the bags inside. I dropped my work bag by the door and the grocery bags in the kitchen.

“Oh, you should have Ricky read them and help you edit!” She exclaimed, following me in and collapsing on the couch.

“Right. He’ll just tell me to trash them and that they are horrible.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “Let me go upstairs and get changed into something a little comfier.” I walked up the stairs and into my room, pealing my blouse off. As I was getting undressed my phone rang with the song slaughterhouse telling me that Vinny was calling. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I drawled.

“My mum told me you were coming over on Sunday. Don’t do anything stupid.” He growled.

“Wasn’t planning on it darling. Like I said. I plan on making Mama Mauro love me.” I tracked down some Halloween pajama pants and a black suffer club shirt that Heather had given me when I got into the band about a year previous.

“You are an insufferable brat.” He spit. I could imagine him getting angry while shoved into the tiny bus bunk and it brought me a bit of joy.

“You’re the one that drug me into this. I’m just playing my part of the ever-loving girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Plus the more I play up the sweet girlfriend card the more it would hurt when we break up. Which by default would get her off your back for longer.” There was a long quiet pause before he spoke again.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you asked me too. And I get the joy of you looking like a bastard when your parents find out the truth.” I shrugged as if he could see it. My brush laid on my bed side table so I picked it up and ran it through my hair a couple of times before throwing my hair up in a messy bun.

“You know what? He may have lied about you flirting with him but he was right in one aspect. You’re a raging bitch.” He spit.

“Then go crying to mommy about it. I don’t have to do this for you Mauro.”

“Ugh. You are impossible. I will be glad to be rid of you after the holidays.” He hung up and I shrugged, heading back downstairs to join Heather.

“Took you a minute.” She mused, handing me my first drink of the night.

“Oh, you know. Just pissing of Vinny.” I giggled.

“He called?”

“Yeah, just to tell me not to do anything stupid while with Mama Mauro on Sunday.”

“A little paranoid, isn’t he?” She asked.

“Yeah, he’s just worried I’ll tell her and ruin everything.” I huffed, dropping myself onto the couch next to her. I was so annoyed with the stupid drummer and his attitude.

“Lets just forget about him and indulge in ice cream like we planned. He’s a problem for another day.” I kissed her cheek and flicked on the first crappy romcom of many, forgetting about the band in its entirety for the night.

[dandelion-wings]

Do you think Sara would be good with kids?

Especially in regards to your Sara-in-Mondstadt AU, where for some reason I can’t help but imagine her being exasperatedly fond of Klee and babysitting her.

For a partial answer, have this snippet I shoved in that AU doc the other day:

Sara strongly suspects that the book the librarian found on "yokai customs" is largely the invention of some opportunistic author who wanted to profit from credulous mainlanders' lack of knowledge. "Oh, this is charming," the librarian says, turning another page. "'Each tengu guest brings unto the marriage circle a length of branch or bough, suitable to a nest, to symbolize that the marriage takes place within the flock; while the tengu bride and tengu groom bring each of them a whole bundle, chosen by hand, to symbolize that they will build their nest together and raise each other's young....'" That Sara can't swear is false. She's never attended a tengu wedding, and there seems something... *right* about bringing nesting material to one you love. But she feels an itch all down her back at the awareness of how laughable and foolish this would seem to humans. She's heard the mockery before when she's acted in a way too easily compared to the behaviors of a common crow. "I would prefer not to include that," she says, stiffly polite, just as before. "Oh? You don't want to show Jean that you'd raise her children for her?" It would be wrong for Sara to be dishonest about this. "I'm not suitable to raise human children." Or tengu children, for that matter, as this literary exploration of her people's heritage makes clear. The librarian gives her a sad smile. "Neither is Jean. All right, cutie, no sticks. Let's see what else is in here."

But for a longer answer: eventually.

Everything we see in her voicelines and especially in her teapot lines, which I presume all are meant to take place after the Inazuma AQ, suggests that now that she doesn't have Takayuki around, she is actively working on reparenting herself and improving her own social skills. I strongly suspect that's going to lead long-term to a version of Sara who can, in fact, handle children well! But right now, at the point where I have her depart for Mondstadt (or Liyue), she's simply not yet there. That's a skill she would have to develop through exposure to children, not something she possesses when she starts.

With Klee, I think she would initially have much the same reactions as Jean, for (what I headcanon to be) much the same reason--harsh correction and punishment for any misdeeds, because that's what she experienced as a child and believes to be correct. The optimistic side is that I think that, specifically because she is trying to make the changes above, I think she's in a better position than Jean* to look at what happens afterward, realizing it's not working re: changing Klee's behavior, and taking another approach. I think there's a lot of trial-and-error! I think Klee probably initially, and for a long time after, reads her as mean! But very long-term, I think I could imagine her ending up as a good tutor for Klee, in a similar position as Lisa but more able to deal with the physical end of her boundless child's energy.

*I've ranted plenty about this, but: Jean is not a good babysitter. I have some sympathy for her around it, because she's in a very shitty position here and she didn't ask for it, and I don't think she has the capacity to become a good babysitter while she's so overwhelmed with all her other responsibilities to Mondstadt. But the upshot, sympathy or not, is that she keeps doing the same thing over and over again and it does not fix the base problems involved, and she doesn't have the understanding of children or the spare time and attention to figure out what's going wrong and why, and thus what else she could do about it. Ultimately this is Alice's and probably Varka's fault, but. It's not good. Everyone is in a rough spot here but at the end of the day it's a prepubescent child getting the short end of the stick and it sucks.

In the Liyue version of the AU (both have such good but different elements, which is why they both bang around in my brain despite me making more actual writing progress on the Mondstadt one), Sara's ability to handle children grows faster, because she has help. Ningguang recognizes both her social weaknesses and her desire to repair them very quickly, and one of the ways she subtly tries to help with this is to dump Sara on Ningguang's little gang of child informants. Letting said children know that this is a job she'll pay them for, on their end, and without giving Sara responsibility for them--I can't remember who I discussed it with, but I recall that my idea for how it starts is that they throw a ball onto a roof and ask Sara to fly up and get it, and Sara, who again in this version of the AU thinks of it as forbidden to fly around people, is flustered when Ningguang encourages her to. And then to play with the kids. :> But it's fairly important here that Sara is in no way made responsible for these children! (Not that she doesn't take some on, of course, but it's not official.) She's just a fun adult whose wings can add to the variety and ease of their games, which is Ningguang's other goal here, to make her cute new wife understand that it's okay if she flies.

[crusherthedoctor]

It's really sad how people keep going after your group just because you defend yourselves

Apparently, the statements "I'm generally content with the quality of my personal stories" and "I spot many issues with this comic" justify getting spammed with graphic death threats and ableist insults

Yet it's insisted that you're the ones who are too harsh? It's straight up unfair.

Who would have thought that a group of people might occasionally get upset after being crucified and ridiculed by countless strangers?

Funny how they NEVER have a justification beyond "well shut up no one wants to hear you"

Somehow, it's always YOUR fault that a part of the fandom goes rabid whenever someone doesn't conform to the current "right" opinion, and YOU'RE to blame for THEIR ungodly behavior. That doesn't make any sense, does it?

This fandom is vain and abhorrent to the nth degree and y'all deserve better. That's all I wanted to say.

Par for the course, innit. They'll lash out at us. They'll hand out death threats. They'll make disgusting ableist comments about my autism, and similarly terrible comments towards my friends. They'll threaten to bomb SEGA HQ and stick Iizuka's head on a pike, among other wild declarations of violence. But don't you dare make a goofy meme about Surge not living up to her hype. And whatever you do, don't even think about criticising the unprofessional antics of the IDW crew. What are you, a monster?

They dismiss us as insignificant one minute, then fearmonger so hard that they see fit to give us a boogeyman-esque moniker the next. I'd be surprised if they could walk in a straight line without contradicting themselves.

As for "You talk so much about your fics!" ...No shit. I'm a guy with a blog. This isn't a movie production with a budget, I don't have a team or advertisements backing me up. And unlike fanartists, I don't have my own art to catch people's attention. I kind of have to talk about my writing in order to get it out there and inform people of its existence, and while I try not to sound too much like an unskippable YouTube ad, what else am I supposed to do? Upload them silently and then never refer to them again? How is showing passion for my work any different from official creators showing passion for theirs? Just because fanfic tends to get less attention on here than fanart doesn't mean it's not worth sharing, do they want fandom to flourish or not?

When I compare my work to a certain comic, I do it to highlight the dissonance. If fanfic writers - plural, not just myself - can understand the importance of keeping the characters recognizable, and making the universe faithful despite any necessary differences, then what excuse do official writers who have been involved with the series for over a decade have? If someone who doesn't even love Sonic that much compared to other characters, finds him annoying and unfunny half the time (no, not just in the Pontaff games, in general), and even finds it a pain in the ass to write for him at times and has more fun writing other characters because of this, can still attempt to write what made him appeal to fans... why do writers who supposedly love him so much keep fumbling so hard with him?

I compare for the sake of highlighting why these off-kilter portrayals are so easy to spot. If Sonic Twitter only gets "He's just stroking his own dick" from all of that, then they haven't been paying attention.

The most ironic thing about it all is that they've only gotten more vitriolic as most of us have mostly moved on from the height of IDW discourse (cause the comic goes in circles at this point, and is very likely to be running on fumes due to IDW's financial troubles, so there's no point). Yeah, I'll still criticise it now and then, and make a meme on occasion, but I rarely make lengthy ted talks about it or participate in ongoing Lanolin Is A Bitch/Silver Is Uwu-ified/Whisper Is Trauma Bait/etc back and forths anymore, because it's just tiring now. And since most current Sonic stuff has been putting me off in general, combined with growing fatigue and frustration at not being able to criticise certain games without people waving the finger at me (especially SA2, since the Year of Shadow has made it the center of attention yet again...), I've took a step back from intense Sonic discussion to focus on Stellar, as well as other fandom projects, like my recent brainstorming for Paper Mario or: How I Learned To Insert Eggman and Love The Vivian™.

In no way can you say I've been up in their faces as of recent. Yet they continue to cry otherwise, because they want people like me gone completely.

[parragone]

wip weekend except i haven't posted anything in weeks and now it's everyone's problem

this one is part of a currently... 31k Mando S3 rewrite where I'm being self indulgent in my ships because frankly it's my fic and i'll do what i please! the ship relevant to this particular snippet is pazdin but -

it's canon divergent, meaning that Moff Gideon fucking died, and there's in-story reasons as to why Luke's ended up vibing with the Mandos, there's a different big bad at the end of the season, it's fine dwbi there's nothing dangerous here :)))

this snippet covers Paz and Din having a tender moment, followed by Bo-Katan telling the story [ very abridged ] of how Din came to have the Darksaber. To a bunch of kids and adults sitting around a fire. Because I needed exposition about how Gideon died lmao

it's about? 2,770 words in length

To see Paz and Din at ease once more rather than at each other’s throats was wonderful by itself, but she quickly realized there was more to their motion than simple affection. She leaned slightly to tug the attention of the princess to the pair who stood nearly on the border of the firelight and discreetly pointed to where the two men had crossed their wrists together between them. They faced opposite directions yet made no attempt to move away from each other, each visor fixated directly on the gaze of the other. 

She straightened up as she observed her beroya and cabur, the two men who had known each other as if they had never once been parted. Where others saw conflict, she knew well that there was only respect and love; they treated each other with the harshness they knew they could handle. They existed in tandem, each doing what the other never could. 

“Watch,” she instructed softly. “You asked what I meant when I told you they loved each other, so watch.” 

With the tender moment came quiet attention from those nearest to them, though the new arrivals seemed to be just as curious as the princess beside her. She watched as the two men slipped their wrists down to clasp their hands together, then as Paz lifted the beroya’s hand to the crown of his helm. Twenty years ago, this may have been a dance with paces too quick to track; tonight, it was two men taking slow and even steps in a circle in the sand. 

As if not a day had passed since they had parted. 

The shadows that flickered along the desert sand were united as though they were one being. Din leaned forward to rest his head on their joined hands, the silver and blue of their helms acting as lovely complements in the light, and Paz lifted his hand to rest on Din’s shoulder as the two stopped where they stood. She could see them shift just enough in the sand to face each other and their lack of weaponry became evident to her. 

After a moment, the beroya touched his kar’ta beskar with his free hand before he placed that same hand against the heart of Paz’s armor, and something shifted in the warriors who were paying attention. Anyone familiar with their tradition knew that it was an act of penitence to do such a thing, an apology from the soul itself that could not be put to words. It was a sincere gesture given only when one accepted full ownership of the past. 

And even a fool could understand the forgiveness shown in how Paz reciprocated the gesture. They barely seemed to breathe as they removed their hands from each other’s chests and lowered their clasped hands without releasing them. When they pressed their helms together, a soft murmur of approval filtered through the attentive warriors as they turned away and gave the men the appropriate privacy. 

“I thought they were at odds,” Bo-Katan confessed quietly as she took her eyes off the two men. “Why the apology? And why so public?” 

“Din became a product of what he endured during the Imperial reign.” The Armorer spoke softly as she kept her eyes on the two boys she had watched since their youth. They had settled into each other’s space and hadn’t tried to move away, and so she assumed that the moment was necessary. “I believe he sees himself as a crypt of things best left forgotten. As for the public display, I believe it is to show us that they do not need to be separated if they get into a fight again.” 

Not that she wouldn't separate them if they gave her reason. She needed them able-bodied, and their physical combat had never been kind to either of them. Public apology or not, she knew they knew she would knock sense into their skulls if necessary.

The princess seemed to deflate slightly as her shoulders lost some of their tension. As she spoke, she shook her head with a soft laugh of bewilderment. “I’ll admit I thought he’d always been the way he is. I’ve asked around, heard the stories.” 

“Stories?” That piqued her interest perhaps more than it should have and the way the woman reacted to her tone made her glad that she could not see the immediate shame. “I do not get the chance to hear stories of my warriors very often, and Djarin avoids the subject.” 

“Yeah, stories. Not hard to find them, really.” Bo-Katan leaned back as she thought for a moment, a dim smile on her face as she watched the warriors mill about. “I heard one story about how he took it upon himself to annihilate an Imperial base by slipping in looking like one of them. How he slaughtered an Imperial sect alongside a Jedi I once knew well. Heard another about how he threw himself into the sky with nothing but a grappling hook and a blaster, hooked onto a TIE fighter, and blew the wing off before landing without a scratch. Another about how he supposedly took down an entire prison ship’s worth of droids on his own before getting double crossed, at which point he shoved the ones dragging his cloak into a cell themselves.” 

The Armorer was quiet as she listened, her hands folded as she turned her head to watch the boy she had raised slowly rock in place with the man he had loved since childhood. He had never been one to speak on his own achievements, rather happy to allow the prestige of others to shadow him. There were a thousand things she could say, and yet- 

“He destroyed an Imperial base?” 

“Down to the foundation. According to the woman I heard it from, he did it to get the little one back, but I’d ask Fett for details.” The princess gave a small nod as she spoke, the silver strands in her copper hair shining in the firelight. “Not the first, not the last, I don’t think. I think he’d glass a planet if it meant he’d get that kid back. Took his helmet off for the little frog-eater.” 

“He removed his helmet for the sake of the child.” Her heart sank to the core of her being. He’d never broken the Creed; he’d adhered to it in the most honorable way he could, and had chosen not to tell her. 

“Right. Did he not tell you?” Bo-Katan tilted her head slightly as she asked her question, her attention now on the Armorer’s poised form. “That kid is why he has the Darksaber in the first place. Got a few friends to help him get on board a star cruiser, myself included, and then slaughtered anyone and anything that stood in his way. Beyond that, all the stories say the same thing; the man’s a phantom of death stained in Imperial blood.” 

“And you can be certain they are true?” 

“True as my heart beats, Armorer. I’ve seen his strength. I don’t doubt a single story I’ve heard.” 

The princess sat upright as a child slipped past the skirts of a warrior, bright-eyed and fascinated with her. Another pair of children lingered behind the legs of the adults, and the Armorer realized that they were surrounded by keenly listening warriors and children alike. The one who had braved the approach folded their arms in a clumsy but well-meaning salute before they spoke. 

“Can you tell the stories, alor?” Admiration was the only name that the Armorer could attribute to the way the child spoke. “Of the Mand’alor?” 

“Well,” she started, then stopped. The princess followed the Armorer’s gaze and watched as the man in question moved indoors with his partner, apparently quite unaware of the goings-on. The older woman waited for a moment before she gave Bo-Katan a nod of approval, at which the warrior seemed to puff up considerably. 

“I’ve heard many stories. He once slew a krayt dragon on Tatooine by leaping into the maw and allowing himself to be swallowed with explosives so he could trigger it from the inside,” the princess started as she waved one hand, and the excitement of the children around them grew. “From the stories I heard, he slew an entire clan of bandits and an assassin droid from the Empire to save that little one right over there. His foundling.” 

Grogu cooed as if on cue from his cradle, his absurd ears perking up as he seemed to giggle with delight at the mention of his guardian’s achievement. The children seemed to laugh, several of them seeming to shift their attention to the child for a moment before the princess sighed softly. There was a certain weight to her shoulders as she pondered her next words. 

“Let me tell you the story of how he took the Darksaber from a horrid demagolka and why he removed his helmet. The story that began his quest to return to Mandalore,” Bo-Katan began as she gestured for more children to come sit with her. “It’s the stuff of legend, really. I am honored to have fought beside him to see it.” 

As if she had called to give them sweets, children emerged from behind the safety of their guardians to settle into a loose circle around where the princess sat beside the Armorer. Adults had shifted their attention to the two women and she could see that even Skywalker had turned his attention to the Kryze sister, who seemed surprised at the number of little eyes on her. 

“Well, I suppose everyone would be curious, wouldn’t they,” the princess sighed as she leaned on her knees. “Din Djarin lost his foundling to the machinations of a man named Gideon, a Moff of the Empire. This man was cruel, the executor of the Night of a Thousand Tears, and had come across the Darksaber when I myself surrendered it to him in an attempt to stop the bombardment.” 

There was a gasp from the children, and a collective discomfort for the warriors who knew of the Purge. Many of them had never known the surface, only the glassed remains of the planet that remained; a great number of them were converts or post-Purge foundlings, and so they too knew nothing of the planet they should call home. The fact that Bo-Katan was at least partially responsible was a painful truth, but a truth nonetheless.  

Bo-Katan gave a slow, pensive nod as she continued. “I know little of what happened for Gideon to get his hands on Grogu, but I know that Djarin appeared in my presence with a deadly assassin and legendary bounty hunter. He intended to storm an Imperial cruiser with nothing but a beskar spear and the fury of a buir scorned, but had come to me for aid. In exchange, I asked for the cruiser, not knowing that the Darksaber was aboard.” 

“You didn’t know?” One child’s voice was soft, barely audible from where she sat. 

“Not a clue. I had thought Gideon destroyed the Darksaber to spite our traditions,” the princess confirmed. “I was not there when the fight began, but I arrived to the bridge that served as the arena midway through and sealed the doors behind me so no one could support the demagolka. I was quickly wounded and cast out from the fight beside the child. The Moff struck me in the hip with a dirty shot and promised that I would die that day once he was done with the beroya, that he would take the child and all we’d lost would be for nothing. The fool didn’t know who he fought. 

“Din Djarin fought like the Manda itself had possessed him to take his foundling back from the Moff. He bore a beskar spear that he used to block every strike of the Darksaber and threw himself wholly into combat, not a single movement wasted, but even the greatest of warriors tire. When the Moff saw him stagger, he raised the Darksaber high to cut Djarin across the neck, where we are at our weakest; but before he could make his move, the Mand’alor struck him through the eye with the tip of his spear.” 

There was a gasp of shock from some of the children and a nod of approval from some of the warriors. A slight twinge of pride rose in the Armorer’s chest as she listened; if a man was fool enough to fight without a helmet, then his hubris should be exploited. It was a lesson all the children she had taught learned early. 

“There the Moff fell,” Bo-Katan said, her voice proud and strong as she raised her hands to imitate the movement of a corpse falling to the sand. “And Djarin stood, wounded and weary from his fight but victorious. A beskar spear in one hand, the Darksaber in the other, he knew nothing of what he had won. Yet he had no time to celebrate his victory; deadly death trooper droids had come to finish the Moff's work. 

“Yet, somehow, we were not forsaken. An ancient enemy of our people had come to save us. We watched through the security systems as a cloaked figure carved through all the enemy’s reinforcements like a blade through air and came to the bridge. That he had saved us was pure coincidence, for the truth was that he had come for the Child.” 

The children closest to Grogu looked at the child, then back to the redeemed warrior. It seemed that all who listened had gone silent, waiting on the truth that laid at the end of the tale. A story meant to be written in Song should have an ending, after all. 

“The Jedi and the Mand'alor seemed to understand something beyond myself,” Bo-Katan said, her voice heavy with what the Armorer thought might be sorrow. “And the newly won Mand’alor knelt before the little foundling he had been willing to die for and removed his helmet. He urged little Grogu to be brave and to be safe. I watched as he placed a pendant from his neck with the Child, but not once did I see his face before he replaced the helmet as the Jedi left.” 

“He gave the child his pendant?” The question escaped before she could stop it, and the way Bo-Katan straightened in surprise told her that the princess knew nothing of the significance. The Armorer cleared her throat with no small measure of embarrassment. “It... That pendant was the riduurok pledge of Paz Vizsla.” 

“What’s it mean to give it away?” A child near Bo-Katan asked the question as they bounced eagerly in place.  

“It means...” 

She stopped to think for a moment as the tribe’s eyes settled upon her. He had no idea who had survived the tragedies of Nevarro. He’d lost his home, his covert, and as far as he could possibly know he had nowhere to go. The love he had held since his youth had, to his knowledge, perished in an act of devotion and protection; he had no reason to believe she had survived. To remove his helmet in any situation, especially in the presence of their ancient enemy, would mean that he had lost his Creed.  

Silence settled over the tribe as she stood and approached the cradle. She lifted the little creature from his place and ruffled his robes with a tender hand until she found the pendant in question, hidden beneath the signet and the beskar shirt that kept him safe. Wide, brown eyes looked up at her with a curious noise of confusion as she ran her thumb over the surface of the old piece.  

When she had made the piece, it had been a gift from Vizsla to a foundling who barely spoke. Before Djarin had become beroya, before he had learned to run from anything that might be stable because attachment led to comfort and mistakes. It was a symbol of loyalty, a bond that could not be broken by time, distance, or death. Paz had been safe harbor since the moment he’d given the pendant to Din. 

The details had been rubbed away by time. It weighed nearly the same it had when she had pulled it from the forge for a patient cabur. An anchor for a soul that didn’t know roots. 

A choice to reconnect.

“It means that Grogu is his child in all but rite.” 

“He’s Mandalorian?” Ragnar perked up as he caught the Armorer’s attention. He'd nearly blended in with the adults by lurking in their shadows, a valuable skill for someone with a habit of getting caught by things far larger than himself. She gave him a small nod as she placed the child back in his cradle, an act which earned her a giggle and the clutch of a small hand in the curve of her thumb. 

“He is Mando’ad.”  

Her son had stopped running. 

[lured-into-wonderland]

Levi's seen the girl around before, but even a small town like this one hasn't put them in each other's vicinity since high school. He remembers some science project they worked on together in 10th grade, but their circles didn't really mix outside of that class. But she's caught him on his break at work, standing outside, bundled in a winter flannel, smoking a cigarette. He's sure to blow the smoke away from her.

"Momma always like your name," he says idly when she decides to linger nearby him, looking in the windows of the shop instead of going inside. "Real God fearin' woman, my mom, thought that your name sounded Christ-like, like a nun." He scoffs, smoke curling from between his lips. He'd never been the religious sort, even growing up in the house he'd been adopted into.

"Anyway, you might not remember me. Name's Levi." With the cigarette between his lips, he reaches out a hand to shake hers.

She remembered him. At least his face. Nunnally was good with faces. Perhaps not so much with names, but he was outstanding enough back there in High School, so she kept his name in her memory. Was it then why she stood up next to him giving him a chance to talk to her?

It felt weird to be back. She never liked small towns; she was a girl from a city, and these few years she spent here, in the Southern town almost in the middle of nowhere, were not the best years in her life. Years just after her whole life was ruined. Years just after she had learnt the truth she now desperately wanted to forget. Though were the years before really that much better?

Levi… Apparently, there was nothing similar about them. His winter flannel was definitely in contrast with her expensive coat and knee-length dress; his messy hair (or at least she would describe it with this word) in contrast with her neat bun and elaborated hair-pin. A perfect Southern Lady and a… She internally laughed. Perhaps the military-style boots were the only thing they had in common. The only thing that made her no lady after all. She shrugged: --

“It’s Irish.” – it was weird she had an Irish name with presumably no Irish ancestors; her surname linked her origins to France, but she couldn’t be sure. She knew so little about her family and her father never spoke about it – “Some suggest it originates from the nun’s grove or even nunnery itself…” – she furrowed her brows and shrugged again – “…but I never liked this meaning. I prefer the other hypothesis. The meadow.” – not that it was that much better, but Nunnally was not a believer; religion always made her anxious, but she suspected it was a part of this town’s culture.

The cigarette smoke was disturbing to her, but since they were outside, it didn’t cause too much discomfort. She restrained herself from complaining. Nunnally accepted his the handshake with a smile: --

“I remember you. We were in the science project together…was it the 10th grade?”

“I also remember your mum. She was always nice to me. One of my…” – Nunnally hesitated – “…aunt’s close friends.” – she wasn’t sure if the woman she called ‘her aunt’ was really her family. But it was already long ago since she stopped asking questions. And that woman back there was kind to her; kind enough for Nunnally to come back to this town. Sometimes.   

“I had a crush on you back then.” – she suddenly confessed; not really sure why. Perhaps because it didn’t really matter. She was a completely different person now – “But you paid absolutely no attention to me. Probably not without a reason. I was a weirdo back then.” – perhaps a slightly harsh assessment, but she didn't make aby bonds. And her not being compatible with a small town was probably the least important one on the issues list.

“So, how have you been doing? You didn’t feel like leaving this town…” – that was surprising; she could not understand why people chose to stay – “It has not changed much, I feel…”

“Is that small café close to our school still open? What was it’s name…? Their pumpkin spice latte was one of the best I have ever had.”

At least that was one thing she could consider lucky. She was not stuck here.

@svnsworn

[xreader-obsessions]

Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Reader

Summary: A misunderstanding occurs when you stumble upon Keigo with the League of Villians members

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. You weren't supposed to be on patrol, Hawks made sure of it. Yet here you were, casually walking down the street and towards him and members of the league of villians.

"Hawks?" You called out to your friend, who was not facing you as he ducked into an alley. Confused by him randomly appearing on your route, you followed him.

The alley was pitch black with the only light coming in from the exits where light from the street crept in. It seemed like it was abandoned until you heard another voice speak up.

"Aww so you're the unlucky one to stumble upon us huh?" You froze up, realizing you were facing a high level member of the league all on your own. Himiko Toga. You must have seen her run into the alley, not Hawks.

Using your mana manipulation quirk, you created a ball of glowing energy in your hand, ready to throw it at the first sign of an attack and daring her to try anything.

Pulling out her blade, she quickly lunged toward you. You reactively sidestepped the attack, the knife's edge barely grazing your arm to draw a thin line of blood.

You turned on your heels so you were facing her after her attack ended. She looked down at her knife, "Hmm...not that much, but we'll fix that soon."

Being the energetic person she was she immediately dove into another flurry of attacks. Talking through them as if it was nothing.

She swipped at you, hand over hand, breaking through every opaque purple tinted wall of mana you brought up. She was trying to wear you down with fast attacks.

Suddenly struck you from behind, blue flames hitting you square in the back and sending you to the ground. A burning sensation ran down your back and the distraction gave Toga an opening.

She pinned you to the ground, blade pressed firmly against your throat as she happily smiled down at you. Dabi slowly walked towards you. You first saw his shoes just to the side of your head and looked up at him with a glare.

"You gonna take care of her? Or should I?" He questioned, conjuring a blue flame in his hand. At first you assumed he was talking to Toga, until you saw a familiar figure on the rooftop.

His gold eyes still shown through the darkness as a cold glare and his silhouette never seemed more imposing. Hawks was rarely this serious and it always frightened you when he was. He casually glided down to your side, no hint of concern or worry in his eyes as they met yours.

He held your gaze, hands still stuffed in his pockets as always when he turned his attention to Dabi to respond, "I mean. The whole loyalty test would be useless if I didn't at least try to kill her."

"Hawks?" You desperately searched for any flicker of emotion in his eyes and found none. That was when you knew you had to get out of there.

Using your hips, you managed to throw Toga off of you and quickly knocked her out with a harsh hit to her head. You immediately tried to run, but something held you back.

"Not so fast little bird." Hawks teased in a dark tone. Your heels dragged against the concrete as you were drawn back towards the center of the alley.

"This will be interesting." Dabi quipped, stepping back to let the fight take place.

Keigo held two of his feathers as swords and carefully circled around you, testing how you would react. Already feeling worn from the previous fight, you were not too eager to pull the first move but had no choice.

You created small razor sharp disk and threw them in his direction. He easily dodged or sliced through each one. Then he swung his feather sword down at you in a diagonal strike. You quickly produce a sword of your own and locked blades with him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"There's some things you'll just never understand." He crypticaly replied, "Motivation is one of them."

Then he began deploying his feathers. They circled around you, making you feel like you were trapped inside the eye of a tornado. You threw him off of you as the next round of attack occured.

Like Toga, he relentlessly barraged you with swift attacks. You blocked as many as you could, but some managed to punch their way through and cut you.

You were pulling your punches against him. After years of sparring together he could tell. He knew how strong you really were. He was just surprised that after all he had done, you still would not out right fight him. Why?

He retreated from the fight, standing across from you with his weapons lowered and his defenses down. It seemed like he was catching his breath but it felt like he was buying you time to restore your energy.

Intentional or not, that's just what he was doing. You took a break as he did. You felt your energy become restored enough for one big move, and you were going to take advantage of that the best you could.

You created three different walls to cage the villians in place. One wall in front, one behind them and one above to prevent Hawks from flying off. The move was going to be very draining, but as long as you kept it up you could distance yourself enough to escape. You ran from the alley, never looking back and headed home. The only thing that filled your head now was wondering what to do with Hawks.

[normal-horoscopes]

REVIEWING OCCULT TEXTS I FIND IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA BOOK STORES:

The Alchemy of Nine Dimensions, Decoding The Vertical Axis, Crop Circles, and the Mayan Calendar by Barbara Hand Clow and Gerry Clow

Welcome to 2004. The towers have fallen, Y2K turned out to be kinda boring, and a teenager named Mark Zuckerburg just invented a thing he called Facebook. The dreams of the 90s are making themselves manifest. The future is here! But it is nothing like what we imagined. 

The early 2000s are the head of a sea change for occult history. Harsh reality has drawn back the veil of Lady Night and many the new-agers did not like what they found. Mysticism of the new millennium is both more fearful and more sober, more attentive and more ignorant. It is obsessed with news feeds and with chat forums. Faded were the days of malevolent babylonian gods trapped in the quartz of the car radio. Gone were the councils of intergalactic energy beings speaking to midwestern dads on the toilet. The millennial occult was serious. Grounded. It was secretive groups of all-too-human men in suits puppeting the world on strings woven from headlines. 

But not for Barbara. 

A veritable battering ram of 90s techno-mysticism, Barbara Hand Clow chugs into the 2000’s laden with tales of psychic alien holograms from Space-India, undaunted by the cynicism of the post-9/11 world. In many ways she is the link, the trans-continential railroad between the UFO obsessed 80s and the Ancient Aliens resurgence of the 2010′s.

In The Alchemy of Nine Dimensions, Barbara Hand Clow promises to help us discover multidimensionality in our daily lives. Now, dear readers, I know how much you’ve always wanted to discover multidimensionality in your lives. Its all you ever talk about. But you know what? I like you. You’ve got moxie. So tell you what: Over the course of this review, I will detail each of the nine dimensions described. I will decode the vertical axis, crop circles, and the Mayan Calendar. For you.

A warning: This book gets antisemitic, reader discretion is advised.

Prelude: The Vertical Axis

“In late fall of 1994, a hologram of light appeared in my head, which was familiar to me as a reception of consciousness from unseen dimensions. I call these “thought atoms” or “monads,” and they have initiated my previous books.”

A strong start from Barbara. This was familiar to her. She receives consciousness from unseen dimensions all the time. Its not a big deal. It should be said, this text is actually the sequel to a fairly well-known text called “The Pleiadian Agenda: A New Cosmology for the Age of Light” in which Barbara was contacted by a Psychic Alien Goddess named Satya. The premise of this text is that Satya is back again, and this time the bars will be hotter, the beats will be doper, and the supremacy even whiter. You can mark off “Magic White People From Space” on your bingo cards.

So what is the Vertical Axis? Well, according to Barbara: “The way it works is simple. “While we are alive, we exist in linear space and time -3D- which is a plane; 2D is shown as an isosceles triangle with one side as the 3d plane, and the bottom point is 1D-the iron core crystal in the center of the earth.”

Now, even from an occult perspective, none of that makes sense. The way that Barbara talks about “dimensions“ doesn't mean dimensions in the sense that normal people understand them. To Barbara, a “dimension” is a thing of perception, a lens through which we see the world. When Barbara says “we exist in 3D” that basically means “We are able to perceive the physical concepts of height, width, and depth.” If you are confused, please study this diagram. 

Her cosmology is a bizarre mix of 14th century Christian alchemy and vague Taoism. She references concepts like Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa's “Archytypical Realm” alongside ideas of “denser” lower dimensions existing on a ladder to up to “lighter” dimensions. In her cosmology, humans are fundamentally dense and sinful, the psychic trash of the world converges on the earth due to its heavy and dense iron core, causing us incredible psychic trauma that blocks us from higher dimensions of perception. However, through meditation and psychic healing, we too can ascend up the Vertical Axis. 

Dimension 1: Gerry, and the Iron Core.

“I began teaching with Barbara in Crete in 1996. I was one of nine men in a group of forty women; we men were celebrated by the women for our bravery, and the women deeply enjoying being feminine in this goddess-rich landscape. I love Crete” 

Meet Barbara’s husband. This is presumably the man in the previous diagram.

This chapter begins with a short meditation on feeling ones physicality with specific attention brought to the feet. This book has an audio version. I am sure this section would be entertaining.

Naturally, we shift into a discussion of the earths iron core. It is a fairly realistic description of how the earth is structured, with said dense core of iron. However, Barbara talks about it as if it is an extremely sacred megastructure accessible by humans through prayer, and not an impossibly dense ball of plasmic metal. The structure of this chapter is actually quite smart. Barbara gives us a prayer we can perform ourselves, then frontloads us with actual scientific information to make her claims seem credible by association. In reality all she does is list some facts about the earth’s core, then lists some new-age bullshit as if it follows logically. 

“Also, according to Satya, because we have iron in our blood, we are wired to vibrate with Gaia in our blood. The blood coursing through our veins pulses with the iron core crystal because it has crystalline iron components.”

I am unsure if Barbara knows that Iron cannot form crystals at 5200 degrees C. In fact, the pressure at the earths core is so great that the iron is considered to be a plasma behaving as a solid. I am sure Gaia doesn’t mind though.

Also in this section she describes how the Pleiadians have access to additional spiritual powers because their planet doesn't have an iron core. You can mark off “Secret Chakras Only White People Have” on your bingo cards.

Dimension 2: The Telluric World and Barely Disguised Antisemitism

We begin with another meditation, this time focusing on attempting to sense other creatures with your psychic mind. Sure. Whatever. 

The second dimension appears to be what we consider the physical world. The thing made of rocks and trees and birds, which Barbara calls the “Telluric World.” The term “Telluric” comes from a real-world scientific phenomenon of Telluric Current, the natural electrical current that passes through the earths crust. This section is interesting, but also where we run into some barely veiled antisemitism. 

“The Pleiadians also warn that the power group that works to control the world of politics and finances -The Global Elite- is trying to harness 2D so it can control the world. A crisis looms for Earth’s inhabitants because the telluric realm will erupt in response to humans using and abiding its sacred powers. It always does.”

For those that don’t know, “Wealthy Elite '' and especially “Global Elite” are both dogwhistles for Jewish people, and harkens back to centuries old conspiracy theories about Jewish people attempting to control the world through financial means. This quote also mirrors some conspiracy theories from the 14th century in which Christians claimed that the Black Plague was the result of god punishing Christendom for allowing Judaism to exist. I cannot say for sure if Barbara is intentionally referencing this, but regardless the result is still the repetition of a narrative with an incredible amount of blood on its hands. 

“Humanity has been taught to fear and be alienated from 2D by the Roman Catholic Church, a union of politics and religion - Caesar and the Church. Around 500 A.D. The Church was run by a cabal of ambitious alchemists and geomancers, who wanted to turn the people into dreaming sheep. The controllers of Judeo-Christian systems have been using alchemy and geomancy for  thousands of years while they've murdered those who dared to use these powers for themselves, such as the Cathars and the Templar Knights.”

In texts like this, the term “Judeo-Christian” is a massive red flag. The anti-catholic as well as antisemitic sentiment is a uniquely american protestant bent on “We are the one true church and all those who came before us, especially Jewish people, have been punished by god for their heretical magic.” Barbara even extends this idea to things like modern science, stating that many cell phone users are getting cancer because the technology for cell phones is the result of semi-sentient higher-dimensional magic punishing humans for misusing it for profit. 

As silly as this all might sound, it is a vessel for ancient hatred. These books are extremely effective at taking reasonable concerns about political corruption and transforming them into full-fledged spiritualized bigotry without the reader ever realizing. I hope I can help my readers recognize these narratives in the wild. 

Dimension 3: Linear Spacetime 

You know how some people talk about “The Lizard Brain?” Barbra takes this incredibly literally. The meditation at the head of this chapter is organized around ideas about accessing older versions of the self. There are vague references to a Cherokee grandfather and reincarnation. Barbara instructs us in how to construct an altar to access our “Centers” which refers to some ancient and primordial form of the self. What this means or why it is important to Barbara is illuminated by this quote:

“Various people and forces draw to manipulate you, to take your power away, or harm you cannot affect you while you are in your center. For example, Homeland Security cannot reach into your heart, even if it impressions our culture. If you are in prison reading this, create altars in your jail cell to access freedom.”

There are also references to the Pleiadians saying things like “These skills will be needed in the coming days.” The evangelical influences in preparing for an apocalypse are clear. The tone of the text becomes notably more colored by fear and panic as it progresses. What seemed like it began as a simple meditation guide is slowly becoming more consumed by ideas about some vague and rapidly approaching danger. There is always profit in selling preparation for the apocalypse, especially in America, and it seems that Barbara is no exception. The directness of the quote is also notable. She posits the Illuminati as a personal danger to the reader. They are here to manipulate you personally, to personally take your specific powers away.

This is insidious from a marketing perspective. On one hand, Barbara offers transcendence, a spiritual escape from the doldrums of living a normal middle class life. But on the other hand, any spiritual progress can can be taken away at any moment by a vague and all-encompassing threat. It places a time constraint on the reader. They must reach the ninth dimension before the Illuminati seals their bonus-chakras forever.

Dimension 4: The World of Myths and Archetypes. 

This text is already turning out to be much denser than initially expected, and Barbra just opened one of the largest cans of worms millennial occultism has to offer and mentioned the Annunaki and Nibiru in the same sentence. I will be back, dear readers, this is a topic that will require a post all its own. 

[ebaeschnbliah]

That morning they lit a fire in a deep hollow shrouded by great bushes of holly, and their supper-breakfast was merrier than it had been since they set out. They did not hurry to bed afterwards, for they expected to have all the night to sleep in, and they did not mean to go on again until the evening of the next day. Only Aragorn was silent and restless. After a while he left the Company and wandered on to the ridge; there he stood in the shadow of a tree, looking out southwards and westwards, with his head posed as if he was listening. Then he returned to the brink of the dell and looked down at the others laughing and talking.

`What is the matter, Strider?' Merry called up. 'What are you looking for? Do you miss the East Wind?'

'No indeed,' he answered. `But I miss something. I have been in the country of Hollin in many seasons. No folk dwell here now, but many other creatures live here at all times, especially birds. Yet now all things but you are silent. I can feel it. There is no sound for miles about us, and your voices seem to make the ground echo. I do not understand it.'

Gandalf looked up with sudden interest. `But what do you guess is the reason?' he asked. `Is there more in it than surprise at seeing four hobbits, not to mention the rest of us, where people are so seldom seen or heard?'

`I hope that is it,' answered Aragorn. `But I have a sense of watchfulness, and of fear, that I have never had here before.'

"Then we must be more careful,' said Gandalf. 'If you bring a Ranger with you, it is well to pay attention to him, especially if the Ranger is Aragorn. We must stop talking aloud, rest quietly, and set the watch.'

It was Sam's turn that day to take the first watch, but Aragorn joined him. The others fell asleep. Then the silence grew until even Sam felt it. The breathing of the sleepers could be plainly heard. The swish of the pony's tail and the occasional movements of his feet became loud noises. Sam could hear his own joints creaking, if he stirred. Dead silence was around him, and over all hung a clear blue sky, as the Sun rode up from the East. Away in the South a dark patch appeared, and grew, and drove north like flying smoke in the wind.

`What's that, Strider? It don't look like a cloud ...' 

... said Sam in a whisper to Aragorn. He made no answer, he was gazing intently at the sky; but before long Sam could see for himself what was approaching. Flocks of birds, flying at great speed, were wheeling and circling, and traversing all the land as if they were searching for something; and they were steadily drawing nearer.

`Lie flat and still!' hissed Aragorn, pulling Sam down into the shade of a holly-bush; for a whole regiment of birds had broken away suddenly from the main host, and came, flying low, straight towards the ridge. Sam thought they were a kind of crow of large size. As they passed overhead, in so dense a throng that their shadow followed them darkly over the ground below, one harsh croak was heard.

Not until they had dwindled into the distance, north and west, and the sky was again clear would Aragorn rise. Then he sprang up and went and wakened Gandalf.

`Regiments of black crows are flying over all the land between the Mountains and the Greyflood,' he said, `and they have passed over Hollin. They are not natives here; they are crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland. I do not know what they are about: possibly there is some trouble away south from which they are fleeing; but I think they are spying out the land. I have also glimpsed many hawks flying high up in the sky. I think we ought to move again this evening. Hollin is no longer wholesome for us: it is being watched.'

`And in that case so is the Redhorn Gate,' said Gandalf; `and how we can get over that without being seen, I cannot imagine. But we will think of that when we must. As for moving as soon as it is dark, I am afraid that you are right.'

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Ring goes South

[finelinevogue]

could you do some angsty smut please??

oh hell yeah we can. this is going to be 70srockstar!harry with roadie!y/n eekkkk! okay have fun;

Being the girlfriend of the most famous, golden boy rockstar was the craziest rollercoaster you’d ever ride.

For the past 6 months you’ve been touring with the one and only Harry Styles, living your life between helping on tour, drinking endless amounts of wine and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. The job had come past you at the perfect moment. Your dad happened to be best friends with the tour manager, Jeff Azoff, who’d spoken of their being a job opening for a roadie. You were employed to help set up the musical equipment and test out the instruments before the act went on at night, falling in love for the man you roadied for was just an add on. A beautiful bonus.

It was a lot more pressure being Harry’s girlfriend than people thought though. There was so much pressure to act a certain way and present yourself another way. Harry was so idolised and craved by millions and it put pressure on you to be a certain person for him. You loved him so much and you were so scared that he might one day realise that there was so much better than you - at least in your eyes. Someone extroverted. Someone musically talented. Someone who wasn’t a virgin.

Harry had never pressured you into anything sexual unless you were ready. Of course he was notorious for being an above star rating, when it came fo sex - thanks to all the articles published by the many men and women, sometimes both together, he had slept with. The sex reputation went hand-in-hand with his rock-n-roll aesthetic, so that part of him would never change. You’d only been with Harry for 4 of those 6 months, managing to fall for him very quickly, so you wondered just how he was coping without having had sex for that long. He usually had a different person each night to take backstage after his concert to play with how he wanted, hence how he built his reputation, but since you there had been no one.

Sex was such a big thing for Harry though, so you couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Currently, you were sat on his bed on the tour bus reading an article that had been published about your boyfriend last week. Your heart strings tugged as you read one section of the interview.

Interviewer: The new album, tell me about it.

Harry: It’s coming on slowly yeah. Just want this one to be perfect so, taking my time.

Interviewer: What would you say your biggest inspiration is for writing?

Harry: Changed on every project, to be honest man. Sometimes it’s about past relationships. Sometimes it’s about issues i’m going through. A lot of the time it’s about sex!

Interviewer: Yeah, dude, I have noticed that like every other song is about sex. Is that something you’re quite open about?

Harry: I think sex can be either something so beautiful or so passionate. Don’t believe in sad sex! But, um, yeah i’m always really honest lyrically when it comes to the songs about sex and I hope others see it as that too.

Interviewer: No it definitely does! Thanks Harry for your time and, um, keep on having sex so that third album breaks even more records!

Harry: Will do man!

It was easy to understand why you were upset. Harry’s biggest inspiration wasn’t possible for this album, because you were too nervous to let him have you. All of you. You felt a burden, as if you were holding him back from living his life and creating something so amazing. His past two albums had been such hits for songs such as ‘She’ and ‘Only Angel’, which were inspired by the intimate times with past lovers. There would only be sad songs if he wrote an album without any spice.

That’s why as soon as Harry came back on the bus, dressed in shorts and a shirt that was unbuttoned to see his toned chest, you jumped him and kissed him like your life depended on him. He was taken back by surprise, but welcomed your lips nevertheless.

Pulling back he mumbled some words against your lips, “Well this is a nice welcome back gift.” He chuckled at the eagerness of your lips and let his hands roam over your body - from your neck to your waist and over your ass. This man knew what he was doing.

“Harry?” You whispered, stopping your kiss and looking at his beautiful swollen red lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yeah baby?” He kept himself close to you and you could feel the stiffie that he’d developed pressing against your front.

“Can we… I’m.. If you…”

“What baby? Can tell me anything, y’know that.”

“Wanna have sex with you.” You told him the most simple virgin way ever, your face heating up when you saw him smirking down at you. You’d screwed yourself over here and were getting all shy and embarrassed about it.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide from me,” He drew your face back to his and kept his eyes on yours to provide you some familiar comfort, “you sure?”

“Mhm, yes.” You nodded affirmatively.

“It might hurt a little, okay? First time means that your cute little pussy is going to be really tight. Don’t even know whether you’ll be able to take me.” He taunted you, cupping his hands to your cheeks and brushing his thumbs carefully over your skin to ease your tension.

“I w-will.” You moused out, wanting to be this person for him.

“‘Course you can. You’re my best girl and I know you’ll fit perfectly for me, yeah?” He rhetorically asked pushing you back to the bed and letting you flop there. You watched him as he discarded his clothes, following his lead, until you were both naked in front of each other. You’d been this far before, but this time it felt different. It felt more lustful and exposed and nerve-wracking.

Harry bent down and started to kiss you from your belly upwards, leaving kisses everywhere until he reached your jaw where he bit more than he kisses. He loved seeing his marks being left behind on your skin, proving to everyone that you were his and his alone. His hands found comfort ins kneading and squeezing your breasts like dough, loving the way they were so soft and yet so hard beneath his warm hands. As he found your lips and divulged in your sweet tastes, you slunk your hand down and grabbed ahold of his cock, pumping him a few times to get him primed. You felt the trickles of pre-cum drip from his tip and it only excited you even more.

Taking your lead, Harry pushed one of his hands in between your bodies and started playing with your wet cunt, paying extra attention to your needy clit. He knew you loved it when his fingers got rough, so that’s exactly how he played. His tongue was battling against yours, whilst you both stimulated pleasure to one another. The wet and beautiful sounds filled the room, heightening your arousal - Harry could feel it too, his fingers becoming wetter with every circle and pump of his fingers.

“You ready, baby?” He asked carefully, plucking his lips away from yours with a wet sounding smack. You already looked fucked out and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“Y-yes.” You stumbled, so excited yet so nervous. You were finally going to give Harry what he had been missing for so long and you were also going to let yourself go, and divulge in something new and potentially life-changing.

He leant back and rubbed his own cock for a few strokes, before lining the tip of it with your opening. He teased your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He smiled down at you and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ without any sounds leaving his lips, before you did the same. The head of his cock started to push in, but you didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Shit fuck, y’so tight baby. Need you to relax for me, okay?” He asked, pulling away so he could watch your body relax. You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, reminding yourself that the best way to relax is not to think about the problem itself but oh how you’d feel when the problem’s fixed. You smiled and once Harry could see your shoulders un-tense, he, once again, pushed his cock into your opening. He hissed at the contact, obviously finding it so pleasurable even if it was only minimal contact, but you, you felt so much pain and soreness from absolutely nothing.

You couldn’t do this.

“It should just…” Harry tried a different angle, but your smile had disappeared and your whole range of emotions had resumed to flat and disappointed in yourself. “Maybe if I just..” Harry tried to hold your legs a little wider and guide his cock more firmly into your opening, but each time he couldn’t push past a certain point without your body rejecting him or your facial expressions telling him he should stop.

“St-stop Harry please.” You cried, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you let the tears flow freely. “Please stop.”

“O-okay. Just gonna…” And he slid out as much as he’d managed to get in, which was probably less than an inch. It hurt when he pulled away and your cunt felt like it was on fire. It stung and it didn’t feel right. You felt like a failure and an embarrassment.

You cried into your arms, letting harsh sobs take over your body. You chest felt tight and your eyes stung worse than your cunt did. God, you couldn’t even do one thing for him. You were the reason why he was having a hard time writing at the moment. You were the reason people would be disappointed to hear no sex inspired songs on the album. He might even have to use past experiences as inspiration, which made your heart curl with jealousy. You didn’t feel like you were enough for him, like you would ever be enough for him.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” You sat up from the bed, not wanting to look at him and his disappointed expression as he stay knelt on the bed - cock looking painfully hard still. You scrambled for your t-shirt and your joggers and then walked out of the room, across the bus’ narrow corridor, and into the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in then mirror and were disappointed at what, or who, you saw. Looking back at you was the person who couldn’t even have sex. You couldn’t give Harry what he deserved. You were a failure and it was stamped all over your body. You cried as you looked at yourself, until you couldn’t and you just slid down the wall and onto the floor. You wished for the Earth to just swallow you whole. You couldn’t stand being here when you were clearly broken and useless.

Harry would surely leave you for this. Why would he want to stay with someone who couldn’t even get their boyfriends dick in their pussy? Couldn’t give each other that pleasure? Harry had so many people in the past and surely with you gone he’d have so many people in the future. It would be selfish of you to stay. Harry had needs you completely appreciated that, but it would be just so difficult to let him go when he means so much to you.

There was a quiet knock at the door, which broke you from your cries and self-deprecating. “Y/N? Baby honey? Can I come in, please?”

“S-sorry. Yes of c-course.” You stood up quickly, thinking that he was wanting to be let in to go to the toilet or to have a cold shower go get rid of the hard-on that you’d put there. Too bad you couldn’t have taken it away.

You unlocked the door and shuffled past him, only for him to stop you. He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you both infinitely pressed together in the pathway on the bus. He had you pressed you up against the side of the wall and kept his arms at either side of you.

“Sweets—”

“Harry, please don’t say anything. I-I know what you’re thinking and—”

“Yeah? And what am I thinking?” He asked, not moving away from you. You held your cries the best you could and took a deep breathe to continue.

“I’m a disappointment. I-I i’m not good enough. I’m broken.” You choked out, knocking your head back against the wall from frustration.

“Stop it.” Harry ordered firmly, gripping your cheeks in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The look in his eyes was so hard to read, but he looked desperate and worried and hurt. You hated to think that you were the cause of any of those emotions. “Just stop.” Harry’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears too and you brought your own hand up to catch a few of them before they could fall.

“Don’t cry, please.” You begged, keeping your hand pressed to his cheek which he absolutely adored. He loved the feeling of your skin against his. He never wanted to not have it.

“Then don’t say things that hurt me, okay? Hearing you say those things about yourself absolutely breaks m’heart flower. Just because you were a bit too tight to take me today does not mean that you’re a disappointment or you’re a failure or that you’re not good enough. It hurts to think that you’d ever think I would think that, because - fuck -,” Harry pressed his forehead tight against yours and fanned his lips lips over yours. His closeness was everything. “I love you so much it scares me. My feelings for you are so strong and so real. I want your forever and something as trivial as sex is never going to make me want otherwise. Do you get that?”

“B-but the album?” You asked.

“What about the album?”

“I-in the recent magazine interview you said that sex is your biggest i-inspiration. I can’t be that for you.”

“Is that what this is all about? Because you think that my album isn’t coming together because i’m not having sex? Did you miss the part where I said I wanted this one to be perfect and I was taking m’time with it?”

“No.”

“Well I did say that, because it’s for you baby. The whole thing is going to be for you. Every melody. Every lyric. Every song. Just and all for you.” Both of you were silently crying now, absorbed in each others love and adoration for one another.

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. This album isn’t really for the charts or the awards. It’s for you, m’heart. I love you for a lot more than your body and its’ pleasures.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking all his words in and realising how irrationally you’d acted out afterwards.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For even thinking that you’d be so shallow and cold-hearted.”

“You didn’t think that though, baby. I know you and so I know you didn’t. Your thoughts were based around your own insecurities, not to do with your small-thinking over me.” He explained to you, making you nod and kick your lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well then we don’t deserve each other.”

“But i’ll keep you forever if you’d let me.”

“Looks like we’re together forever then, baby honey.”

[shotorozu]

hello! i hope you're doing well~

can i request headcanons (or with scenario if you'd like) where bakugo's s/o falls asleep on him while crying 🥺 and if it's okay with you, can s/o have the emotion deprivation quirk because i really loved those hcs you made before :)))

i really really love your blog btw. your writing is always sweet and fun to read ❤

passing out after crying on them

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, emotion deprivation quirk— the more you suppress your emotions, the more power you get.

headcanons : hurt and comfort, but mostly comfort.

note(s) : thank you for the love anon :)) i also added shinsou because i thought this concept fitted well with him too :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

you were really unreadable— you’d understand that because of the nature of your quirk. however, being with katsuki gave him the ability to read you and your mannerisms

if your nails dug into your palms, that probably meant that your day was shit, if you kept looking at your nails, it means you’re trying not to cry, and running your hands across the surface meant that you were happy.

and unfortunately, he caught the sight of you digging your nails into your hands, not enough to actually do any harm but.. enough to keep you ‘focused’

he wants you to be comfortable enough to go to him with your problems, but then again— it was always something you struggled with, so he wasn’t expecting it

so now you’re alone with him, walking along the corridors of the dorms— and none of you guys are saying much.

“get in here,” he says, grabbing your wrist as he yanks you into his room, immediately setting you down on his bed.

“i don’t know what happened with you, but i don’t fuckin like seeing it.” he sets your head on the soft pillows, an arm bringing you close in positions

“nothing really happened,”

“yeah? then why the hell were you doing that then?” his words sound rather harsh, but he’s not raising his voice at you “you know what i mean.”

“i’m sorry, it’s just.. exhausting. having to suppress my emotions for long periods of time. i don’t know what to do because i’ll..”

and that’s when you start crying, which was probably the last thing on your check list— you’re getting his pillows wet, he’s not saying anything, you can feel yourself getting weaker

all of the doubts in your head run wild, and bakugou only shoves your head onto his chest “idiot, stop it with the apologies already. just let go.”

and you do exactly that. you heave into his chest, bawling like it’s been forever since you’ve done so. you’re getting his shirt wet, but katsuki couldn’t seem to care— he’s just glad that his hands are emitting enough heat

your ragged breathing eventually blended into soft breathing— you don’t seem to be shaking in tremors anymore, and he’s glad

he takes a look at your face. you’re out like a baby, cheeks still damp and your eyelashes were wet with tears.

“idiot Y/N,” he mutters to himself, wiping your damp face with his thumb, “you’re out like a baby. you’re not gonna hear this but next time, don’t be so stiff with coming forward to me for help.”

“i’m the last person that’s gonna judge you, i do love you after all. it might not seem like it but i really really really do.” he presses a kiss against the back of your ear.

he’s going to try to not wake you up, as he gets up from the bed— sprinting downstairs to prepare some water that he’s gonna force you to drink down later

when you wake up, you bet he’s making you put a cool towel on your eyes, reducing the puffiness as he has you on his lap.

shinsou hitoshi

can also tell if you had a good or bad day, and he really hates seeing you so.. miserable.

he can tell that you have so many thoughts in that head of yours, because of that powerful quirk. those were one of the few times he wished he had aizawa’s quirk.

he frowns when he sees you suffer in absolute silence, even though you’re wearing the most neutral face he has ever seen, he can quite literally see it— because you’re fidgetting with your hands on your lap.

unlike bakugou, the first thing he’ll talk to you about is how you’re feeling— the moment you guys are alone.

don’t try to deny it, because he knows already— this is just him giving you a heads up, just letting you know that he’s about to coddle you.

actions speak louder than words in moments like this, he has you pressed against him on the bed— allowing your arms to wrap around his torso like lifeline

“you don’t have to say anything right now, Y/N.” he reassures you, “let it happen.”

as if it was on command, your eyes water— and you shove your head onto his shoulder, finally breaking the barriers you were desperately trying to keep up.

you’re vunerable, a mess, and hitoshi allows you to cry like there’s no tomorrow— only resting his hand on your back, rubbing soft circles there

when you start shaking, hiccups escaping your lips— he panics for a moment, because you’re on the cusp of going into a panic attack

but that’s also when his baritone voice starts giving out soft instructions on stabilizing your breathing pattern. his quirk would always be the very last option.

and when the storm has finally calmed, your eyes flutter— a sudden wave of sleepiness washing over you, and you just allow yourself to fall asleep in his hold

he sighs in relief, and he doesn’t care that his sweater suddenly became soaked with your tears, it allow him to carry some of your burden— he’s just holding you with all of his attention.

his violet irises soften in adoration, and he’s kissing your tears off your cheeks, moving anything out of your face.

hitoshi being hitoshi wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he’ll spend a good moment thinking about what he’ll talk about with you the moment you wake up, and he’ll pask you about your issue, and how he can help.

but for now, he’s just thankful that you have so much trust him— to the point you’re okay with being vunerable around him, and he’s just so proud of you.

“sleep well, kitten. i love you a lot, please remember that.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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