#and yes an extension of this applies to being in spaces here like all the decorum doesn't erode just bc it's not irl or you have to-

[dumbdomb]

Dom =/= top =/= masc =/= man

sub =/= bottom =/= fem =/= woman

switch =/= vers =/= gnc =/= queer

as long as you keep associating being dominant as a role only to be fulfilled by a top, and assuming all tops to be butch or masculine in nature, you thereby will make masculinity something men are.

topping is not a kinky role, it simply means this person likes to give an action to their partner(s). a bottom enjoys to receive said actions. if you're ok with both, then you're versatile- either way.

being dominant in kink is many things, just as being submissive is not limited to one way of truly being subservient. to take on either role, there is going to be compromise and exploration- redefining and enhancing what works. if you are ok with taking on either role, you're able to switch up the roles of dominance and submission. switching isn't for everyone.

you don't have to be overly masculine to dominate, it's not always about being tough or intimidating. some doms are soft and caring, prefer to control in other ways, don't like being physically rough, etc. being feminine doesn't make you weak. some subs enjoy being roughed up, degraded, and brought to the edge of complete and total submission (physically, mentally, emotionally). masculinity and femininity is something everyone has both of, it doesn't make anyone more or less of a man, or of a woman. it's incorrect and limiting to narrowly define these words and to use them in this way.

the more you try to recreate cis gender, heterosexual (allosexual) normalised expectations and stereotypes of how a relationship should be structured, the less space you'll have to be understood and realise genuine connections and partnership (which is necessary to form a mutually agreeable bond or dynamic).

this is all very basic, introduction to kink and living outside of the mainstream. what we do isn't popular, and we all have interests that are certainly less popular (for me, i often find most people are not as keen on peeing as i am- for example). establishing and respecting each other's boundaries is a fundamental foundation to building any kinky relationship. if you can't accept someone having a limit or not giving you full access and consent to your desires, then you're abusing and taking advantage of someone's interest in kink to overrule and overpower them.

please read books about the psychology of kink, the history of bdsm, and don't just focus on the erotic elements that get your attention. study why things exist (like, why do people enjoy pony play?) and try some introspection. why do you like something? be critical and understanding, compassionate... learn more about the world, people, yourself.

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[viktoriathewitch]

⋆˖☽magical protection☾˖⋆

(se você fala portugues BR, sinta-se livre para enviar DM ou pedir tradução de um post. boa parte vai estar em inglês, para facilitar minha vida e atingir mais pesoas.)

(these tips are based on my experience and current knowledge, better read on desktop)

🕯️TIPS, DO'S AND DONT'S PART 2🕯️

⸸ WARDS. This is a big one, and I love it. Basically warding is done when you fill a space with angry energy and intention of what comes in said space. This one is really nice since all you need is your energy. You don't need any herbs or crystals, even though you can give them such energy to boost the ward (make sure the herbs/crystals are for protection), it's not necessary. However, you need to make sure the energy gets to each part of the room/place you've selected. So, warding isn't the best of the best options for big and ample spaces, since you'll need a lot of angry energy, much more. This goes especially for beginners or those who run low on energy. For better warding, I recommend cleaning the room (yes actual cleaning, mop the shit with intention), purification/cleansing of the space, banishing if necessary, and then warding. ⸸ Purification and energetic cleansing with herbs and crystals need to be done right. I won't get into big detail, especially for herbs, I might make a post just about working with herbs, but in general and making it simple, you have to make sure the herb/crystal you're using fits the criteria. Yet, it's important to remember that if you're dealing with a persistent spirit, like a tar spirit or obsessor, or even negative energy being sent by someone else intentionally, using herbs or crystals will probably not be enough. Thus, banishing is a better fit. ⸸ Like said before, banishing is a better option once you have a more powerful enemy. There are different ways to banish, imo, banishing methods are far more diverse than purification/cleansing ones. I personally use candles, but I have already used my own energy and will against beings I sensed were not safe. I have even yelled already to get them out lol. Of course, it's always best to investigate, especially when there is really weird shit happening, such as temperature drops, plants or animals dying/being sick, wounds appearing out of nowhere, things breaking, feeling really unwell, etc. Usually, such matters will be felt and noticed earlier by spiritually sensitive people, so, if nonsensitive spiritual people are feeling/noticing such matters, it's defo a red flag. ⸸ Learn about sigils and charms/amulets for protection. There are many, and both are really extensive so I won't be covering them here. However, these can be paired up together with 7 other methods for powerful protection. I highly recommend studying them. ⸸ Last but not least, energetic hygiene! A simple thing to do, but something that people only remember to do before performing something (and when they do remember to do it before). Basically, for example, before doing tarot readings, besides washing your hands and making sure the cards will be laid on a clean surface, you also cleanse yourself, the cards, and the space energetically before and after. It's fairly obvious why this needs to be done before the readings but after it? Why? Well, basically because after doing a reading, especially for another person, their energy will stick to us. It's great and all when it's good energy, but when it isn't, you need to get rid of asap. It's like bacteria and viruses, you don't wash it, it's gonna get everywhere you touch. This habit applies to other things such as rituals, spells, and even day-to-day matters such as taking a healing shower after a stressful day (just imagining the water and asking it to take the heavy energy with it)

🕯️CONCLUSION🕯️

So! I think this is it. It's a lot of information indeed, so take your time to learn all of it and make it a habit. In my sincere and humble opinion, these are the ingredients for having a great defense in terms of magickal matters. Of course, analyze your practice and see what's necessary. Regardless, energetic hygiene is a great way to start (also part of my humble opinion). Good luck!

part 2/2, part 1/2 here

[voxofthevoid]

First of all I love every idea you got cooking in the kitchen. Delicious meal planning. Even had to take out paper and pen to list immediate favorites: 8, 12, 14, 25, 29, 34, 36, 44, 48, 54, 60, and 62.

But I am most interested in 40 cause the potential of you turning Gojo into something utterly horrifying is amazing. Yuuji accepts him immediately? Of course! Cause he's a good boy. Gojo *still* being a terrifying monstrosity and Yuuji showing off just how unhinged he is just by the ease in which he accepts (I imagine) an every shifting, screaming glitch interface as Gojos six eyes seeing through the veil of dimensions that his Limitless is endlessly trying to tear apart.

~Messy

I love that you immediately penned a list 🥺💙

After 236, I got pretty attached to the concept of Cursejou, and honestly, with how freaky Limitless is even as a CT, applying that to a curse body has so much potential. The eyes alone would be freaky, and add in some space distortions, you get one hell of a curse. Yuuji would accept him way too easily for comfort, I believe. He should definitely get eldritch hole.

But 40 and 34 were asked by others (I'm scheduling these, so I can't link them, but click on the "wip open season" tag and you'll find them). Among the posted answers, you can find 8 here, 29 here, 36 here, and 44 here.

Excluding these, I've picked another one from your initial list:

14. seven new ways that you can eat your young

Age reversal AU where Yuuji spent most of his Jujutsu Tech days as the Gojou heir’s bodyguard and bids the kid goodbye when it’s time for his execution. Six years later, 15-year-old Gojou runs into a scarred, dead-eyed version of his supposedly dead childhood crush.

This was my first or second age reversal idea, and it still lives rent free in my head. It'll also be Long. The notes are a bit messy, mostly because it's a non-linear narrative with some extensive backstory revealed in bits and pieces:

16 y/o Satoru hears "Satoru? Is that you, Gojou Satoru?" And when he turns around, he sees a ghost.

Skip to the past segment with the bodyguarding bits

Satoru says Yuuji name before "seeing, really seeing." Snarls who are you, and Yuuji looks startled, starts to say Satoru just said his name, and Satoru evaluates the environment and makes the split-second decision to drag Yuuji to the abandoned building he just exorcised curses from (threatens Yuuji to not try anything or he'd kill him, crowd or no crowd). Satoru can't warp yet, and Yuuji is eerily quiet. Satoru puts up a curtain with more diligence than he's ever bothered with and pounces on Yuuji. Says he's got ten seconds to reveal what he is and why he's wearing that face before Satoru kills him. Satoru will kill him anyway but he'll make it merciful if Yuuji fesses up first.

Yuuji mostly surprised by the brutality. Says he really is Itadori Yuuji. Satoru says Itadori Yuuji was human—a sorcerer, not a curse // I'm not— // Then why are there two hearts beating inside you? Yuuji stunned. Asks if Satoru can see that and then concludes to himself that yes, he'd be the only one who could. Satoru pins him to the ground, hands around his throat, and demands Yuuji answer. Yuuji asks what it feels like, the heart. Like him? (No). Like Sukuna? (Satoru starts to suspect something at the mention of Sukuna but says no). Who then, Yuuji asks urgently. Satoru snaps he doesn't fucking know, it's just CE distinctly different from Y's. Yuuji smiles and admits, yeah, okay it's unfair to expect Satoru to know. Thank goodness though (said with hand over his own chest). Closes his eyes and tells Satoru to go ahead. Satoru doesn't and when Yuuji asks why, he just says only Itadori Yuuji would pull something so phenomenally stupid. Not even fighting. Memory montage of all the impulsive shit Yuuji did when he was with kid!Satoru. He demands to know how Yuuji is alive.

Yuuji says he can't talk here and asks if Satoru can come with him. Satoru does, and Yuuji chides him for the lack of caution, and Satoru goes, I am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world—well, one of them. Nothing's going to hurt me, Yuuji, least of all you. Yuuji looks proud.

The second heart inside Yuuji is Megumi's btw. It's...complicated.

[icy-galaxy87]

Is Tomboy a Slur?

I'm sure we've all seen the discourse around the word femboy; "it's a slur because it's used against trans women" is a sentiment I've seen enough times that I looked for an alternative (and found none that suits me because "roseboy" makes me, as someone whose middle name is and will always be "Rose" which is an honor name in my specific case, feel weird) because I'm a nonbinary trans man who aspires to roughly that aesthetic. But has anyone ever thought about the inverse? I mean, tomboy is the "counter" to femboy.

Besides that, it is also used against trans men extensively. But, and here's where things get interesting, I looked it up and the only complaints about it are about the idea that it's sexist to gender hobbies/behaviors (which, true, but masculine women still exist). I've looked in trans spaces and seen nada. Searched on Tumblr. Literally only brought up in posts saying exactly the same kind of thing I'm saying.

I wonder why. Why is it that people are debating and discussing and being furiously angry about the word femboy while tomboy effectively gets a pass? Could it be because of transandrophobia? Or is it that the discussion seems to boil down to "this term has been used against trans women because society sees trans people as gender-nonconforming members of our AGABs", which applies to literally every gendered term if you extend it to all trans people (I've been called a tomboy before, I'm a nonbinary trans man and I hate being called a tomboy because I'm not one) and so extending it even just to the inverse begins to destabilize the argument?

I dunno, every time I see discourse on the term "femboy", it seems people are just upset that it is sometimes used against trans women and vaguely gesture to the history of the word, which has always meant exactly what it says; "feminine boy". Has it been misused? Yes, even as far back as when it was first created. So has "tomboy". If I'm missing something, please point me to sources that explain what I'm missing (and ideally give me better alternatives, "flower boy" is also out because it makes me think of kids at a wedding throwing flower petals, "lavenderboy" just... Seriously? Why is lavender specifically feminine? I haven't found any others that I find viable, if it calls me a girl it's out), because in looking into this, I haven't found much in the way of people proving that it originated specifically with transmisogyny.

I say all this with utmost respect for trans women, I don't want to miss something, it's just that every time I try to look deeper into it, all the reasons seem to boil down to exactly things that can be said about "tomboy" or many other terms and I don't see how some people identifying with those terms is harmful, it seems like the problem comes when people label other people those things. It almost seems similar to the "queer" label discourse to me.

[kimberlychapman]

Indeed, and some of us take those TNG Tech Manual documents and apply them to the Sternbach blueprints and make ourselves excessively detailed ship maps so we can better-than-canon-accurately number all the rooms we invent for our fic.

[image: Detailed deck labelling for the Enterprise D.]

This is my main blueprint for writing the SpaceDad Stories. I bought the Sternbach blueprint box and photographed them so I could markup my own digital versions while preserving the paper ones. I used Preview to draw pleasingly rainbow lines by decks so it's easier for my eye to follow all the way along. And yes, they extend to the fore in a separate graphic but I rarely use that one.

I also took a screencap from a digital version of the Tech Manual (I have the paper version from when it was newly released, I am that old of a nerd) and used multiple Preview windows to line them up, then drew these grey dash lines over the drive section to label the drive's sectors on here.

I can then refer to whatever deck I need in the rest of the blueprints and use the Tech Manual's descriptions to suss out a logical room number.

For instance my OC's room is on this deck, so I have done extensive work here, including defining turbolift stop numbers by the same numbering system:

[image: Detail and notes for Deck 31 of the Enterprise D.]

So this way I can describe that anyone visiting Anna in her lab or her quarters can get oft the turbolift and the door is more or less right across the hall. This also lets me define other parameters of those rooms in a consistent way.

What happens if I want a room that isn't on the blueprints? I fanfic it...that is, I make it up. But I edit the blueprints (again, in Preview, I don't have the money or spoons for fancy editing software) so that I know where things are, thus allowing my writing to be incredibly consistent. In Book Four, which I am currently writing (but I've been ill a lot so it's taking forever), a lot of time is spent on this deck so while I defined some of these spaces in Book Three, I rely on my edited blueprints more heavily in Book Four, actually describing what the characters see in the rooms because I have it right there in my blueprint notes:

[image: Deck 39 of the Enteprise D with edits and notes.]

Mack is another OC, another survivor of the same colony Tasha Yar escaped from. In fact Tasha helped her escape and brought her aboard as cargo crew, and as a friend of Tasha's the senior officers are very protective of her. I wrote her before Prodigy was on the air, but her trauma is a lot like Rok-Tahk's, only more grown-up, CW CW CW.

Anyway, in one of the earlier books I needed my main OC Anna to use industrial replicators, and there aren't any on the blueprints, so I defined this space as Mack's bay where she oversees those and other cargo issues. So I drew in a wall's worth of large replicators that can "print" flooring sheets for Jefferies tubes because that's what Anna was experimenting with at the time.

Aisling Navarro (and the whole Navarro family) is another OC, her family being introduced more in Book Four, and she has a habit of taking vulnerable young women under her wing, hence her lunch room down near where Mack is. In her group is canonical character Ensign Tyler, whom Memory Beta gives a first name of Andrea in some semi-canon works. Given that Book Three covered "Phantasms" you can expect some discussion of Tyler's crush on La Forge in that lunch room in Book Four.

So yeah, to answer the OP way up there...the crew know their way around, and so do us hardcore fic writers. :D

star_trek_empty_corridors

[carinavi5]

I remember a teacher I had once, she was always so mad at people talking about how student didn't study because of lack of motivation.

I know she was pissed off because she wanted us to know that work should be done you feeling excited about it or not, to make us see that hard work and commitment are what actually make a difference.

She was an awful communicator, well she was lacking in a lot of areas to be honest, but at least she was right about that.

There was a blatant misunderstanding both from students and teachers about what motivation in education and in different grades is and should look like and be treated as.

She viewed "lack of motivation" as laziness, and us students thought it was the induced anxiety and all its consequences and expressions. Other professionals I think tried to apply the tools they knew or had read about, but they were all the kind to make kids in primary school feel engaged, us 16 year old's needed a bit of a different approach.

I don't want to do anything right now, I am being lazy in bed. I have reasons to want to study and pass this classes: I like what I'm studying, I wanna be a proper professional, I don't want to lose money and I made a deal with myself to buy something I really want if I don't have to retake any classes.

Those are more on the long run, but if I can't see a conection between working now and archieving that, or if I don't see them giving me the stimulation I crave at this very moment I may simply not work. Here I need compromise with my goals for the long run, I need to be logical, not let current emotions and desires drive me. So here is were my teachers point of view comes in play: hard work and commitment regardless of emotions because our rational side is guiding us.

But looking back at that time, how could I have wanted to work if the fear and anxiety were freezing, crushing our self esteem, and not letting space for the safety and hope that leads to the desire to take that "leap of faith"?

A good studying environment is like Zelda BotW or TotK.

It's big and extense, you can choose were to start.

You have a few tasks you can either do or not before going for the big boss, but you know they are gonna be helpful and fullfiling.

Yes, there's a bit of pressure in certain tasks, and if you are engaged with the story you really want to get things done and help the characters. Time. Pressure.

And the most important aspect: you can fuck up. But you can try things you're not sure if they're gonna work because even if those monsters may kill you, or you want to check if you'll actually die if you jump out of the cliff in front of the cave you've started the game in, you know it's no big issue if your character dies. You can go again with no big repercussions. You are being taken care of, held and helped, but not constricted and not rushed.

[angelicallyblack]

Do you have tips to becoming more lady like/classy ?

(Keep in mind that this is simply from my own perspective and everyone’s definition of what is considered “classy” and “ladylike” varies.)

1. No drama! Classy women do not participate in drama or messy behavior of any kind. Of course, this doesn’t apply to serious matters like being threatened or assaulted or any kind of situation where your safety is at risk. Pick your battles wisely. Sometimes it is more than okay to say “You know what? I’m too grown for this.” Or “I’m too classy for this.” The last thing you want is your name attached to some mess that you could’ve simply chosen to ignore and not participate in. This goes for gossip as well. There are some celebrities who never have anything to say about anyone. Even when they’re asked outright, they’re smart about avoiding the question. What’s the point?

2. Discretion, discretion, discretion. When I think of women in the media who I consider to be classy and ladylike, they have several things in common, but the main one is that they’re discreet. They’re very careful about what they say, how they say it, and how they move in the public eye. Yes, I might consider them to be very ladylike individuals, but in truth, I really know nothing about them. The generic information like education and background and such might be out there for me to see, but when it comes to their personal life and ideals and opinions, I know next to nothing. And that’s how it should be! The whole world does not need to know your business or what you think of every insignificant thing that’s popular at the moment.

3. Time and place! Some people will tell you that classy women don’t listen to rap or rock or whatever other music they’ve deemed off limits to ladylike individuals, but I disagree. I think the true definition of class is knowing there is a time and place for everything. This goes for any kind of media you consume or any kind of way you choose to enjoy yourself. There’s no law on class that says you shouldn’t let loose and have fun, because you certainly can! As long as it’s understood that certain behaviors are not for certain spaces.

4. Manners! I cannot stress this enough, but manners will take you far. Make “please” and “thank you” a regular part of your vocabulary. Offer condolences to people you know who need it. Send thank you cards to people who have been a great help to you. Check on those close to you here and there. Be polite and show that you are a thankful individual.

5. This is sort of an extension of part 4, but be mindful of the things you say. Do not be the kind of person who only says things out of anger that you know you will regret hours later. Be respectful to those you love even if you’re mad at them (obviously this doesn’t apply to truly toxic and abusive situations but more so petty arguments that, in the grand scheme of things, really do not matter all that much). Even in more tame discussions, you don’t always have to say what’s on your mind. If it isn’t going to help someone, then ask yourself why you feel the need to say it? Furthermore, if there is something you feel needs to be said, there’s a way to be honest without being rude. Now yes, in some situations, you can’t spare someone else’s feelings. This is the truth, but there’s a way to stand your ground and get your point across without being malicious and ugly about it.

6. Carry yourself well. You’re poised and always put together and you’re articulate in how you express your thoughts. Please keep in mind that I do not mean you speak perfect and fluent English or anything like that. In my eyes, someone with broken English who knows more than one language will always be above a native English speaker who only knows English (sorry not sorry). You take the time to think about what you’re going to say before you say it so that you are heard and understood. You walk with confidence and hold your head high. You have wonderful etiquette.

7. Cut back on vulgarity. It’s going to ruffle some feathers, but I don’t consider constant swearing to be ladylike. I myself have stopped swearing as much as I used to. I really only swear in the privacy of my own home and it’s here and there (usually when I mess something up or hurt myself 😭). Let my coworkers tell it, I never swear, and the thought of me cursing doesn’t even sound right to them. Out in public, there’s also a way to say certain things. If I’m at a company dinner or something, I’m not going to tell everyone I need to go pee or do number 2 🤢 I’m going to politely say I need to excuse myself or as my aunt likes to say “I need to use the ladies room”. In addition, if you can’t get your point across without yelling, then you need to re-evaluate that. Again, this does not apply to truly toxic and abusive situations, but simple discussions and disagreements. You should be able to convey what you’re trying to say in a calm and respectful manner.

8. You mind your business! I do not mean in the selfish way of being unconcerned with the hardships your loved ones are facing, but I mean out and about. You’re not judging some random woman on what she’s wearing or some man on how he’s eating. You’re focused on yourself. If you’ve ever seen Gilmore Girls, there’s an episode in the first season when Dean first approaches Rory, and he tells her that he absolutely had to get to know her because he saw her reading a book one day, and all the while, there was a commotion with a fight and an ambulance and this whole big thing that captured everyone’s attention, but the entire time, she did not look up from that book even once. Now I’m not saying you have to be that extreme, because if there’s a fire or something serious, you need to know so you can skedaddle. But don’t always concern yourself with what everyone else is doing or how they’re behaving. Focus on your food, focus on your book, focus on your podcast. Just focus on you!

[messwriting]

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab:  Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader 

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose​ for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now. 

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT.  CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT.  DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink.  MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl. 

Word count: ~4.4k 

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it. 

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?” 

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table. 

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it. 

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

 “It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap. 

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too. 

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder. 

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention.��

 “I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins. 

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs. 

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple. 

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips. 

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in. 

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination. 

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides. 

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority. 

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

 “Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again. 

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing. 

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits. 

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

 “All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.” 

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table. 

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming. 

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication. 

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead. 

 “Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker. 

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.” 

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body. 

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well.  He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!” 

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes. 

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth. 

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute. 

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?” 

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?” 

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls. 

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance. 

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.” 

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…” 

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white. 

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks. 

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.” 

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe. 

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.” 

Because you love everything about that. 

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Max Lord x F!Reader] - Epilogue

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: the long awaited epilogue. food mention, alcohol mention, pregnancy mention and FEELS.

Word Count: 2000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist

Previous - Epilogue - The End.

July 7th, 1985 (One year later).

So much had happened in the space of a year. You’d gone from being an Amazonian Goddess, haunted by the voice of a man from a far off world, to destroying the God of Lies for good, and discovering the beauty in true love. You still kept the crumpled up polaroid of Alistair and Maxwell that you’d taken back when he invited you into his home, last July. It had proven to be a better good luck charm than your tiara or lasso; and it served as a constant reminder of home.

Because home wasn’t Themyscira anymore. It was wherever Maxwell and Alistair were.

“And over here we have a vast collection of quartz! It’s usually mined in Brazil, and it’s the second most common crystal in the world.” Maxwell explains, using the most outlandish hand gestures everytime he speaks. He always spoke with his hands; even when he was on the television. You guessed that some things just didn’t change.

You watch him from afar, unable to contain the smile on your lips. His eyes sparkled and gleamed like diamonds as he gave facts about each of the gemstones he presented.

Black Gold had become an extension of the Smithsonian’s paleontology and gemology department, just like you had planned with Diana. When she had sorted it all out, and you broke the news to Maxwell, he was overjoyed. He hadn’t lost the business he’d worked so hard on, it had only been replaced by something even greater. And he couldn’t have done it without you. He’d spent so much of his life searching for happiness— looking in all the wrong places.

Through meeting you and gaining full custody of his son, he learned that success wasn’t money or wealth or having a solid career. For him, success was family. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His eyes caught you standing in a shadowed corner. Alistair was holding your hand, and in your free arm, you were cradling your three month old daughter. He knew now, he’d finally found his happiness. He smiled over at his little family and you shot him a kissy face, giggling when you noticed the rose coloured flush that crossed his cheeks.

You and your little family waited for Maxwell to finish his tour guide of the museum, admiring his work ethic. You were so grateful that he was able to adopt his superb salesman skills and apply them to a profession he was truly passionate about. He’d always loved rocks and gems and stones, even having his own collection at home. But this… this was infinitely better than drilling oil and accidentally scamming millions across the globe. Maxwell was putting genuine smiles on people’s faces, kids too, and that in itself was a beautiful thing.

Once the tour group disbanded, Maxwell was quick to run over to you. He took your daughter from your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I missed you,” you smiled, watching as Maxwell fussed over his daughter. “How was work?”

Maxwell’s dark eyes met yours and he beamed with delight. “Oh it was fantastic,” He grinned before excitedly telling you all the details about his day at work. He knelt down to Alistair’s level and ruffled his son’s black hair. “Did you enjoy visiting the aquarium with mommy?” he asked.

“It was amazing!” Alistair squealed, sharing the same excitement as his father. It was unbelievable how much Alistair was growing to be a Mini-Max.

Maxwell checked his wrist watch and gasped when he saw the time. He called Raquel over, who had agreed to watch the kids this evening while you and him had ‘date night’. It was a rarity for sure, and neither you or Max liked to be without your children, but tonight was extra important. It signified exactly one year since you entered Maxwell’s life and changed his world forever.

Once it was just you two, Max couldn’t keep his hands off you. “You look beautiful.” he grumbled, pressing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. His large hands roamed your body, paying extra attention to your breasts. Clearly, he didn’t care if anyone was looking. You giggled and slipped out beneath him.

“Save something for tonight.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and taking his hand.

Tonight.

You had no idea what was to come.

“I’m sorry it’s not Greece,” Maxwell chuckled, reminiscing on your first holiday together (if he could even call it that). It was quite an unconventional one— as he’d never expected to go cave exploring with two Amazonian Godesses’ and kill a God. You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“It feels like yesterday,” you admitted. “Leaving Themyscira… giving up my powers. I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

Maxwell nodded knowingly. “Tell me, princess, if you could go back and change things, would you?”

You’d thought about the question numerous times. You did miss your mother, and the beautiful tranquil oceans of your home world. But if you could change things— would you? The answer was simple.

“No.” you beamed brightly, pressing your lips together.

“Good.” said Maxwell. He gestured a waiter over and ordered a bottle of the finest champagne.

Things had been a little rough for Maxwell, after the dreamstone debacle and all. Inevitably he had to sell his white suburban mansion, as he didn’t really have the steadiest of incomes rolling in. But in a way, he was relieved. He didn’t need all that space anyway, and actually he’d really come to like the much cozier apartment where you, him and Alistair were living now. But with a little one on the way, you had both been discussing the prospect of finding a place with an extra bedroom.

He was happy with his job at the Smithsonian. He was passionate about it too, which was the main thing. He was still a businessman , but a much nicer one. After all, the oil-mogul Max Lord was long gone, and had been replaced by a darker haired, sweater-wearing Maxwell Lorenzano. You had no complaints.

“Here’s the thing,” Maxwell announced, straightening his composure after you’d both finished dinner. “And there’s really no easy way to say this—“

You giggled, scrunching your nose up with curiosity. “Spit it out Maxie.”

“I’m in love with you,” Max revealed, brushing his thumb over your knuckles tenderly.

You nudged him playfully. “I know that, silly,” you laughed. “I’m in love with you too. But tell me, what’s really on your mind.”

Maxwell stiffened slightly. It was now or never.

“You have shown me so much kindness, and you’ve shown me hope when I didn’t believe things could get any better. You made sacrifices for me… for my family. Gave up your powers and the chance to see your own mom again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make your decision worthwhile but I’ve known for a long time now that— I at least want to try. I don’t ever want to stop loving you. I want to be with you… forever. For the rest of my life. An eternity. Because you make me happier than I ever thought I could be,”

Tears pricked your eyes at Maxwell’s sentiment, your heart clenching with adoration in your chest.

“And with our family growing, and the possibility of getting a new house, I just… I want to know. I want to know if you’ll be my wife and— if you’ll marry me?” he finished, a hopeful glint in his chocolate brown eyes.

You couldn’t rid yourself of the smile that crossed your cheeks. “Yes Max,” you cried, leaning over the table and wrapping your arms around your fiancée. “Yes I will marry you.”

—————The end.

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I Believe In Love tagged in replies 💕

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (3)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / PREV  /  NEXT

...

There was no latent natural chakra here. The air and environment were dry as a bone, meaning the only chakra he had access to was the stuff produced on his own. Kakashi is not entirely sure what impact this will have on the 1000 or so ninjutsu he has memorised. He suspects it might increase the chakra cost of external and area affecting ninjutsu. Any jutsu that relied on there being natural chakra present in the environment to supplement the user’s own chakra would be harder.  So, no large destructive or transformative ninjutsu. No earthquakes or earth walls, no freezing large bodies of water or creating whirlpools, most wind techniques would be out. Fireballs should be okay as they relied primarily on the shinobi’s chakra pool, but controlling large quantities of fire would be tricker. The same reasoning applied to lighting techniques, chidori would work fine but anything bigger might cause some strain. As long as he wasn’t aiming to wipe out a Division’s worth of enemies, he probably wouldn’t notice the limitation. Large-scale destructive ninjutsu had never been a specialty of his anyway. And he still has chakra to reinforce his body alongside genjutsu, taijutsu and the sharingan.

Well, he is pretty sure he still has the sharingan …

The only way to confirm his theories was to do some field testing.

Thus, Kakashi waits for Iori to do her final rounds and, just before the night shift starts, he ducks out of his room. It is at this time that the nurses would be at their most unobservant, tired out by ten hours of work. It is late in the evening, meaning most of the hospital staff  have left the building. It makes it ridiculously easy to steal down the halls, unnoticeable even in spaces lit by bight florescence.

After discovering that a Quirk Registry was a literal list of bloodline abilities stored on a digital database accessible to any medical professional, Kakashi has decided to stop applying Konoha’s information security standards to the hospital.  He is still a little weirded out by his execution of what was probably the easiest heist of medical information he had ever carried out. 

A few days of stalking Doctor Wada around the hospital at opportune intervals led to him discovering the man’s office. After that Kakashi hides in a corner and watches the man work. Because no one here had any sense of environment/spatial awareness, he has no trouble keeping in the man’s blind spot even with a limp. Thus, he can memories how the doctor goes about updating his patient information, which is all digital and stored on the computer, involving a passcode, a name and navigating through several screens worth of readouts and icons; all of which were infinity easier to understand when compared with the readouts produced by the computers in Konoha’s research division, encoded as they all were.  Three days later and he has access to all his medical files and the files of every one of Wada’s other patients.

Tonight, Kakashi has the time to properly read them. Hopefully, there would be no complications with his eye, and he could clear himself for experimentation. His chakra levels were good enough for it.

‘Name: ‘Kakashi [no surname]’/ Address: ‘[n/a]’ / Sex: ‘M’ / Blood type: ‘O’ / DOB: [n/a] /

No family or medical proxy located. Hospital billing to be covered under City of Hosu Villain/Hero Collateral Damage Register.

Quirk Factor: ‘Sharingan’ [Primary Effect: n/a]; [Activation: n/a] [Type: emitter] [Secondary Effect: passive regeneration]’

Kakashi scrolls through his report, committing the information to memory, eyeing the many notes on his physical and mental wellbeing, listing his various broken bones, sprains, and other injuries, most of which Kakashi is aware of, all of which were well on their way to recovery.

'...Early concerns expressed over collapse of right lung and damage to respiratory system are being reassessed due to passive accelerated regeneration....'

Ah yes, he vaguely remembers something going straight through his chest during the fight. He examines the surgeon's notes which recommend close monitoring and an extended hospital stay alongside various medications.

'...Additional concerns over potential complications due to prior injuries/scarring (see attached report)....’

Hmm, he skims over a note describing older scaring around his chest. The report has flagged quite a few of his past scars and bone breaks as concerning and evidence of past physical stress involving combat. Not too far off the truth. Something to keep in mind if they ever asked him about his past. Honestly, he is somewhat impressed by the thoroughness of the report and the efforts gone through to keep him healthy. Linked is to medical notes are details of the two surgeries he had undergone while unconscious alongside various other actions the hospital had taken in their bid to keep him alive.

‘Primary quirk factor confirmed by the patient as single-ocular quirk ‘sharingan’ located in the left eye. Quirk most likely to be a passive emitter type with line of sight or eye contact as an activation requirement. Quirk effect is unknown. ‘Sharingun’ was restored during surgy under the supervision of Sueno Manzo and predicted to retain its function upon recovery barring further complication.’

‘Patient exhibits the symptoms of memory loss, apathy, and confusion suggesting a case of post-traumatic amnesia. If quirk has a memory storage function as is typical of ocular quirks then there may be a link between the quirk effect, damage to eye, and memory loss symptoms. Diagnosis requires a second opinion. Requested consolation with Neurologist and Ocular-Quirk Specialist still pending.'

‘Secondary quirk or mutation factor ‘regeneration’ increases patient’s metabolism and bodily functions, resulting in increased cell repair and recovery. Without a baseline for recovery speed predicted recovery timeframe is unknown.’ 

Well, ‘predicted to retain its function’ was good enough. All the major concerns raised by the doctor were linked to memory loss that didn’t exist. Kakashi ducks out of the office, heading back to his room. It was interesting to know that his recovery rate was considered abnormally fast. Fast enough to be considered a ‘quirk’ in its own right. No doubt a side effect of chakra use. It was a well-known fact that shinobi with developed coils recovered from injuries faster than civilians.

He would have to keep this in mind when engaging the locals in combat. The people here would have slower recovery rates when compared with Konoha’s civilians, who still had chakra even if their coils were underdeveloped. He wouldn’t want to accidentally kill someone misjudging their ability to heal from an injury.

…

...

With patience born from his many years of field experience, Kakashi waits for the next shift change before sneaking out once more. His destination is the hospital’s roof. Guarded by one solitary security camera- which he had disabled two days ago and had yet to be fixed- it is the only place he can go and be reasonably sure not to be disturbed for any length of time. Generally, cameras were pretty useless against any shinobi who could pull off an academy level transformation or a basic genjutsu. Even when the cameras were hidden, most shinobi moved too fast to be reliably picked up on film. He is not sure if that reasoning applied here, seeing as the technology was significantly more advanced.  Regardless, as he was recovering and conserving both energy and chakra, avoiding them is his best bet. Most of the cameras he notes are on the outside of the building, placed in plain sight with no care taken to keep them hidden. He wonders if there is a purpose to that. Enforcement of compliance through a display of observation? Are they decoys and there is additional security hidden somewhere he wouldn’t think to look? Is he falling into some sort of trap sneaking around so obviously and gathering information? It was hard to answer these questions when he has no baseline to draw from. As he had yet to see evidence of extensive security or traps in the building he is proceeding with his plan.  

It is early morning when he ducks out onto an empty roof, having stolen the key from what he thinks are the hospital's maintenance lockers the day prior. The air outside is cool, devoid of the stench of disinfectant that had been clogging his nose for the last few weeks. He hated how smell played havoc on his sensitive nose, blocking his sinuses.

Shielded on one side by a taller, windowless section of the building he has a good view of a wide two-lane road where the occasional vehicle would enter or exit the building. At night the area is quiet save for the hum of a distant activity, probably more of the engine-run vehicles, which were irritatingly noisy and commonly used by the people here.

The sky above him begins to lighten. Soon the sun would peak between the tall glass-covered buildings opposite the hospital. The artificial structures shimmer, reflecting the whitening sky. A trip into the busier sections of the ‘city’ is still impending, all his attention being focused on scouting the hospital and absorbing as much information about the place as possible first.

The first test he does is an attempt at summoning his nin-dogs. He has a few ideas on how he might reverse summon himself between worlds or, at the very least, send a message to let people know he was still alive.

Quickly, he bites his thumb, crouches, touching the roof with his palm and pumping in the required amount of chakra. For a second, he thinks it might work. Lines of inked fuinjutsu characters blossom under his palm, spiralling outward, absorbing the chakra. However, instead of activating in a puff of summoning smoke, the energy disperses, sinking into the dead, chakra-less concrete, the seal failing. Frowning, he uses the remaining blood on his thump to sketch out a simple storage array. It activates, sealing in a loose piece of brick without a problem. No, it wasn’t the fuinjutsu that had failed but the nin-dog summoning specifically. There went that plan.

Somewhat disheartened, he begins unbandaging the left side of his head. Just as the sunlight begins to peak between the buildings opposite, he opens the sharingan.

The chakra drain creeps up as the world around him snaps into sharp focus. Every crack in the brick, every mote of dust, every wisp of cloud, is clearly outlined even as colour is dulled to increase contrast.  Kakashi glances around and waits, letting the image of the foreign skyline burn into his brain to be forever stored and remembered in crisp detail.

After a few seconds without significant pain, he lets out a long breath and prepares for the mental strain of activating the Kamui Sharingan. The process brings with it flashes of memory, Obito’s scared face twisted with hate, and a blurry battle. The memories were all faint and far off despite having the Sharingan active at the time. He rubs his chest in discomfort. He thinks he knows who might have stabbed him now. Obito…He releases a tired breath and shoves all the uncomfortable revelations off to the side where they wouldn’t bother him. There would be plenty of time to ruminate at a later.  

Kakashi lets the first stage of Kamui activate, making sure there is nothing in his eyeline. He doesn’t want to accidentally destroy the stairway that led back into the hospital by sucking it into a different dimension. After confirming that the technique is stable and the charka drain is manageable, be prepares to pull himself through, ignoring the beginnings of a faint headache. Despite it being a brand new technique, Kakashi is nothing if not a master at reverse engineering ninjutsu on the fly to suit his own needs. The world warps and shimmers, his chakra levels take a nosedive, and his eye aches.

 A field of unmarked stone appears in place of the hospital roof, displacing tall buildings with uniform blocks of grey, white and black. An eternal, unchanging landscape, dimly lit despite there being no light source, stretches out in all directions. The Kamui no Jikūkan, time–space dimension. There is no signs of destruction or the battle he now vaguely remembers occurring before he had been ripped away from the Elemental Nations altogether. He wishes he could recall how it had ended. Had Obito re-joined the fight with Madara? He hopes not. He hopes he at least managed to take Obito out and give his allies a better chance. Obito was his burden to shoulder after all.

As he tries to dig up something useful from his patchwork of memories relating to his battle with Obito, a faint secondary chakra source catches his attention. The thread of chakra is distance, connecting to something very far off. Obito’s eye? A lingering connection between the two eyes was the only thing that made any sort of sense. He vaguely remembers how he had been in the process of activating the Kamui no Jikūkan when the area had been flooded with demonic chakra.

This is good…If it is Obito, and Obito is still in the Elemental Nations, then he might be able to reverse the collection and pull himself back. The only problem with this plan was that he would need the same amount of chakra to return or risk killing himself. In other words, he needs a lot of chakra. Far more than he has or will ever have access to naturally. As he is the only being with chakra here, this is a problem.

Kakashi lets out another tried breath, “Always a problem…” the area around him remains silent. He knows the theory behind chakra draining and collecting seals. With a bit of patience and self-discipline, he would be able to slowly build up and store the chakra needed to return.

Well, he would definitely be breaking his record for lateness by a long shot. He runs calculations and comes up with a depressing year-long wait time. And that was if he dumped every ounce of his chakra into the seal the moment he got it. Obviously, that would turn him into a comatose vegetable and, as nice as he thinks these people are, he doesn’t trust them to look after his unconscious body for a year. So, it would be double, maybe even triple, that time.

Three years of waiting in this weird unknown word unless someone on the other end of the connection figured out how to bring him back. He had seen Naruto pull of miracles before so…maybe there was hope? Though, everyone might just think he had died given how badly injured he had been just before his disappearance. If that were the case, then no one was coming for him and he would be on his own for the foreseeable future.

“Mah, what a pain.”

He crouches examining one of the plain blocks, massaging the area around his eye. It stings and he is beginning to feel chakra fatigued. He can almost imagine the familiar names of the memorial stone etched into its surface. By the time he returned, the fourth great war would be well and truly over, assuming time moved at a similar speed between here and there. He supposed it was fitting. He wouldn’t be Kakashi if he didn’t let the people he cared about down one last time.

He lets out a long sigh and reverses the Kamui technique, letting himself fade back to his new world and reality. 

The chakra exhaustion hits him like a landslide and he stumbles onto one knee. His eye, which had been aching since he initiated the Kamui no Jikūkan, is now wet. The wetness turns out to be blood, which is pooling like tears and running down the left side of his face.

Maybe he had been pushing it, using the full Kamui after wasting a bunch of chakra on summoning when he had barely been at half his capacity to start. That, and he was obviously still healing.

Blearily, Kakashi wipes his face with the back of his hand heaving himself back upright. He has dealt with way worse. With one last glance at the sun now shining brightly from between the strange buildings of his new temporary home, he heads back inside to find something sterile to clean his eye with.

He collapses back into his hospital bed where he causes a stir as the nurse checking in on him notices the blood soaking through his hastily applied bandages. He lets them fuss in contemplative silence.

NEXT

[collecting-stories]

Shit Talk - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi !! can i please get a boyfriend JJ Maybank x kook!reader, she decides its time for JJ to meet her kook friends knowing that they’ll like him but they ended up liking him a little too much because all they did was flirt & compliment him and they also kept embarrassing reader infront of JJ to make them seem better than her? Basically fake friends trying to steal your gorgeous boyfriend out of jealousy and reader starts to cry because of this and JJ gets angry!! 😭❤️❤️

Outer Banks Masterlist

-

JJ slammed the door on your suv as he got out, eyes already on the large plantation style home you were parked in the horseshoe driveway of. Despite the sunglasses he was wearing he shielded his eyes as he stared at the opposing building. “Can we talk about why you’re forcing me to come to this party if you hate all the people here?”  

“Cause they’re my friends from school. Sarah will be there too, I don’t hate Sarah.” You reasoned, grabbing the card for your friend’s birthday and making sure you had everything else on you. Keys tossed to JJ over the hood of the car as you slammed your own door shut. He slipped the lanyard around his neck.  

“No, but you constantly bitch about everyone else.”

“It’s cause they’re the worst.” You shrugged. And they were truly the worst people you knew. Like all the mean girls from every teen drama rolled into one ultimate evil entity, these girls were literal demons but you were obligated, through school hierarchy and the desire to not ruin your social standing, to attend social gatherings like birthday parties. And you’d been blowing them off lately to spend all your time with JJ.  

“But we’re going?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so confused.” JJ confessed, “you know if you don’t like someone, don’t hang out with them.”

“Says the most likable person I know.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the front door.  

“Hey, just cause everyone likes me but that doesn’t mean I hang out with people I don’t like. Except you…but I really needed a new phone so-“  

You stopped to turn and smack his arm, a fake gasp leaving your lips as if you were truly offended by his teasing. “JJ! Shut up. You’re such a jerk.”

“And yet you like me.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “I’m good at faking it.”

“I’ve seen you with people you don’t like…you’re incapable of fake nice.” He replied.  

“Prepare to be amazed.” You leaned up, closing your eyes and pressing your lips to his for a kiss only to be interrupted by the door opening and the distinct squeal of your most hated friend. You pulled away and turned around so fast you practically gave yourself whiplash.  

“Oh my god you made it!” Scarlett bounced out of the house, wide smile on her face as crossed the threshold and wrapped you in a tight hug. Despite dry hair and skin that looked like she’d just applied a layer of body shimmer her bikini was slightly damp against your cover-up.  

“Hey! So sorry we’re late I was halfway out the door when I saw myself in the bathing suit I was gonna wear and had to change…it was not cute.”  You lied, returning the hug. You’d pit stopped first to buy a last-minute card and take money from the atm and then to get coffee. As you had reasoned with JJ, there was no way you were surviving this pool party without caffeine in your system.  

“Lies, you look good in everything.” Scarlett insisted though she’d definitely sung a different tune in the past. Her eyes landed on JJ as she stepped back and she smiled, “whose this?”

“Oh, duh, this is my boyfriend JJ, I figured when better to introduce everyone than at Ashley’s party.” You offered, stepping aside so you weren’t blocking him.  

“For sure,” She did a once over of him like he was merchandise and JJ only smiled, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying anything you would be pissed at him for. He would save his comments for the sanctity of the car. “Well I’m Scarlett, there’s a lot of people here so if you forget just let me know and I’ll tell you.”  

“Awesome.” He replied. Scarlett grabbed his free hand, pulling him away from you and beginning to drag him inside the house as you followed behind. He looked back at you, mouthing an ‘I’m gonna kill you.’

‘Airpods’ You mouthed back, ‘and you love me.”

He shook his head, a grim expression on his face but you knew he was only joking.  

-

Despite the entire crowd being contained to the outside pool deck and yard you lost Scarlett and JJ relatively easily. Or, Scarlett lost you so she could spend quality time cozying up to your boyfriend. While you felt bad leaving him to the wolves while you found the drink table and chatted with Sarah, you weren’t too worried about him otherwise. You had heard all about JJ’s past womanizing from a wealth of jealous pogues but you didn’t have any doubt that he was faithful.  

He was a great boyfriend, better than any guy you’d dated before. Too good to be subjected to a round table of Scarlett, Ashley, and their friends. So you grabbed yourself a drink and headed over to save him.  

“Oh my god and one time-” Scarlett’s voice died off as she saw you getting closer to them and she smiled at you in faux excitement, “oh hey!”

“Hey,” you nodded at her before turning to look at JJ, “hey there you are.”  

“We were just getting to know JJ. You know, vet him and all.” Scarlett replied, leaning over her armrest to grab JJ’s arm. He shrugged her off and shifted in his seat.

“Exciting.”

“You wanna sit?” He asked, tilting his head back to look at you, pleading eyes begging you to sit down.  

“Oh I don’t think there’s a chair.” Ashley piped up, looking around the table. Four other girls occupied the chairs around them.  

“No problem, I’ll make do.” You tapped on the arm of JJ’s chair, smiling at Ashley when he moved the chair so that you could comfortably sit on his lap. He put and arm around your waist to keep you secured and laid a kiss on the side of your neck.  

“Oh, good.” Scarlett forced a smile, jaw tense. “Anyway, I was just telling JJ, do you remember that time in 8th grade when we went on that double date to the ice rink on the mainland.”  

You paled almost immediately. She was really going to play that game. “Uh…no.”  

“Oh my god!” Scarlett turned more toward JJ, wide smile on her face, “First of all, she was so chubby in 8th grade like thank god for hitting the gym and doing those CrossFit classes cause you looked like a potato. Plus she ate like everything! Do you remember that? You had like a hotdog and fries and ice cream and then we were skating and she said she didn’t feel good and she blew chunks all over the guy! Who was it, I can’t remember his name?”  

“I have no idea.” You replied.  

“Oh my god I totally remember that!” Ashley laughed. “Someone videoed it and put it up on the school’s insta...it was hilarious.”  

“Doesn’t really sound it.” JJ said, grip tightening.  

“You’re way cuter than he was anyway,” Ashley mentioned, “I think he was like a family friend or something. And you’ve stuck it out too, how long have you guys been dating?”  

“Three months.”  

“It’s good it’s the summer. You can get out before you have to experience hibernation weight.” Scarlett added and the other girls around the table laughed at the joke. You smiled nervously, trying to look unbothered by what they were saying. You should have known that the moment you sat down the attack would start, Scarlett had her eye on JJ the minute she walked out of the house.  

“What?” JJ was not laughing.  

“Oh my god, I don’t know what she does but she always gains like…what is it? Like 15 pounds?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.  

“Like 15 pounds in the winter.”  

“Yeah get her while she’s still cute cause you are way too hot to spend time stuck with someone who bloats up every winter.” Ashley replied.  

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around, Ashley’s right you’re super hot.”  

Suddenly Ashley smiled, reaching across the table to tap the space in front of you and get your attention. “Oh, oh my god do you remember okay, so this one time-“  

“Actually, I gotta go. I got work.” JJ said, cutting her off. He bounced his knee to signal for you to get up, “babe,”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll see you guys later.” You stood, trying to remember if JJ had told you that he had a shift today. You couldn’t think but then your mind was swimming with their insults. You were only vaguely aware of JJ grabbing your hand.  

“Seriously? You’re ditching in the middle of the party?” Scarlett asked, offended that he was leaving and even more so that he was leaving with you.  

“Yeah well,” JJ shrugged, looking over at her, “if I stay any longer I’ll probably punch one of you in the mouth so, not really in the mood to sit around and listen to you bullshit about my girlfriend.”  

“We were just joking!” Ashley insisted, “Weren’t we joking?”  

“I wasn’t laughing.” JJ replied. He tugged on your hand when you didn’t move, “come on.”  

The two of you excited the backyard and made it all the way to your car, JJ slipping in the driver’s side as you sat in the passenger seat, still trying not to have an absolute meltdown in front of him. And in front of the security cameras they would probably check later just to see if they made you cry.  

“Thanks…” You muttered, leaning against the window.  

“You weren’t kidding, they are the worst.” JJ replied as he backed down the driveway. In the santity of the car he could say what was actually on his mind and it was extensive.  

“I know.” You did know, you’d been dealing with it since you were in kindergarten and Scarlett told you that you had fat thighs. “Scarlett’s known me forever so she has years of embarrassing stories.”  

JJ nodded. He took one hand off the wheel and reached over to hold your hand. “You know I think you’re beautiful right?”  

“Yes.”  

“Yes you know and believe me or yes I don’t want to talk about it anymore so I’m agreeing with you?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You bit your lip to stop from smiling, “if you know which one it is, why are you asking?”

“Cause I want it to be the first one?” He said. “Those girls are seriously the worst.”  

“Well I hang out with them less now that Kie goes to school with me but I still have to see them sometimes. I can’t avoid it.”

“Yeah I know.”  

“Thanks for coming, and for saying you’d punch them in the mouth.” You said, laughing a little as you recalled the horrified look on Ashley’s face when he said that.  

“Them and anyone else who talks shit on you.” He replied.  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes@millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles@tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27@dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days@jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana@tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops @gothackedalready  @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @averagxfangirl@mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @99sxuxii@oh-annaa @katiaw2 @aiifandomsunite @marteenuhh08 @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @justkeepdreamingswift @allie-mcginn@pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @jolomez @timotaychalabae

[pinkchanelbag]

— there’s no one else; chapter two. 

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

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series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon. 

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down. 

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight. 

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary. 

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose. 

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet. 

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind. 

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are. 

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse. 

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be. 

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude. 

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean. 

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him. 

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself. 

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“ 

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously. 

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly. 

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. 

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam. 

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly. 

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.” 

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean? 

[sleepylixie]

I Hate to Admit

College! AU Bang Chan X fem! reader

Imperium Universe || Jisung || Seungmin || Chan 

2k (I’m so sorry), fluffiest fluff 

Request? Yes! Hope you like this, Anon!! Apologies about getting a wee bit carried away. >.<

Warnings: None!

A/N: I liked writing this, even though it’s waayyyy longer than I expected it to be oops. This is an extension of the same universe as this Jisung fic and this Seungmin fic, but you can definitely read this as a standalone! Do let me know what you think about this fic, I’d love to hear feedback!! ONTO THE FIC :D

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

The skate park right outside your campus was always an interesting sight. There were always a lot of people around, enjoying themselves on the gentle slopes and plateaus. You were always mystified by the way the skateboarders could so easily throw themselves into the air, seemingly unafraid of taking a tumble to the concrete floor.

You’d pass by the skate park thrice a week in the early evening, on your way to a part-time shift at Imperium- the closest bar to your university. Your shifts ran late sometimes, bordering on midnight when you’d step out of Imperium’s back door.

More often than not, you’d encounter the same lone figure in the skatepark on your way back- an average-sized, lean figure who had a way with the skateboard that you’d never seen anybody have before. The first time you spotted him, you stopped and watched for a few moments as he made his way up the slopes like it was nothing at all- he was that good.

Skateboarding wasn’t your thing as much as people watching- there were so many interesting people in the world, so many different kinds of personalities that you couldn’t get enough. You would write them into stories of back-alley romance, tales of rippling fantasy and chronicles of traitorous woe,  reveling in the way your worlds and characters built themselves up along the plot.

It became an unconscious habit, seeing the boy(it seemed like a boy, judging from his impeccably built shoulders and a penchant for extremely sleeveless muscle tops.) on your way back from your late bartending shifts.

He was curious, you decided. Who only visited the skate park when it was at it’s emptiest despite being so good? Did he not like attention? Was he shy? You made a mental note to try and talk to him one day- you weren’t hesitant with your curiosities. Someday, when you weren’t bogged down by your already numerous Works in progress and university, you would approach him and find out more about this midnight skateboarder.

But as it turned out, you didn’t have to wait too long.

//

“Y/N! Where were you, it’s almost 1 a.m!” Your sorority sister Chaeyoung sat up on her bed as you walked into your shared room. Her short blonde hair fluttered around her face as she slipped off the bed, bounding towards you. “I had a longer shift than normal, Imperium was weirdly full.” You responded, pulling your bag off your shoulder.

“Alpha Phi Alpha is throwing another rager. Do you want in?”

That’s when you heard it. You’d been so absorbed in the music from your own earphones that you didn’t even noticed the deep bass thumping through the air, the muffled cheers and screams of enjoyment. Of course there was a party going on, it was a Friday night.

Life next to a fraternity house wasn’t the most peaceful, but you didn’t mind it. Your sorority, Delta Kappa, was housed right next to the Alpha Phi Alpha frat house, close enough to share a fenced wall.

The Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity was the most sought after fraternity on campus; acceptance meant instant skyrocketing of social worth. It was all extremely cliché: the best frat on campus, filled with the smartest, most attractive guys, throwing the most memorable parties and yet maintaining their stellar record of being good at pretty much everything.

“Sure, why not? I have some energy to let off.” You smile, throwing open your shared wardrobe. Chae’s eyes shone wickedly, she was sold by the idea of any kind of party. “Are any of the other sisters coming??”

“Jennie, Lia and Yeri already left. I thought I’ll wait around for you.”

“How nice of you, Chae,” You huff out another laugh as you held out an outfit for her to see. “Ooh, I like it. Now hurry up, right?”

“Okay, okay!!”

20 minutes later, you were walking into your next-door frat house with Chae, already warmed by the electric vibe. “Y/N!!! You’re here!!”  There he was-tall, blonde and devastatingly handsome. Also seemingly tipsy, by the looks of it. Hwang Hyunjin was one of your closest friends, but he had a hard time handling his liquor, even though he would stoutly disagree when sober.

“What took you so long?” He slurred slightly, slinging an arm around you and giving you a tight, alcohol-smelling hug. “Unlike some of you, I have a job, Hyunin,” You quipped, returning his embrace and pecking his cheek- your usual greeting.

“Whatever, you’re here now.” He scoffed and ruffled your hair. “ We just made some new additions to the frat, you should come and meet them.”

“Sure, why not?” So Hyunjin took your hand and led you through the throngs of partying people. Soon enough, you stepped onto the roof of the frat house, a fairly clean space for being set up by a troupe of boys. Fairy lights left the people on the terrace bathed in soft yellow lights, a rather aesthetic sight.

There were around a handful of people lounging around on the couches and carpets, but Hyunjin led you to a particular group of people nearest to the railing, laughing and talking in a circle. You knew he had a gang of friends from all over the campus that just seemed to have an inexplicable pull towards each other.

You knew some of them by appearance from other ragers- music major Jisung with the cheeky smile, law student Seungmin with the puppy-eyes and an acidic tongue, Changbin with his almost flawlessly built body (you always paused for a second to admire his physique) and Minho, the guy who for some ominous reason always had bruised knuckles.

“Y/N! Hey!” Jeongin exclaimed, eyes brightening up in an endearing smile. “Hey Innie,” you grinned, happy to see another familiar face in the junior from the same major as you. “Yes yes hello and all that, Innie,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, ignoring the look of mock offense he got from Jeongin. “I brought Y/N to meet Chan, coz he’s new to the frat, and my favorite sorority girl should be the first to know about the new fish.”

He threw an arm out, pointing to one of the guys leaning against the railing of the terrace, all smiles and black hair. You extended your own smile towards him, already giving him a casual once over- He wasn’t too tall, with impeccably built shoulders in a muscle top….wait. The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Are you the weirdo that goes skateboarding at midnight?”

A pause rippled across everybody in the circle, the smile on Chan’s face reducing to an incredulous splutter as Jisung choked on a giggle- that did it. All of the guys dissolved into peals of laughter, loud and unrestrained.

“Sorry about that,” You said, letting out an embarrassed sigh as you stepped around the circle to get closer to Chan. “I’ve seen you in the skate park when I’m getting back after work.”

He shrugged, his handsome features still splashed with sheepishness. “It’s fine, it was just a matter of time, I guess.” Over the laughter, you could hear how smooth his voice was, like melting chocolate.

“If it counts for anything, I thought you’re really good at it.” You weren’t the beat around the bush with your words. “You made it look so easy.”

A light blush reddened his ears as he grinned at the compliment. “Thanks.. Y/N, was it?”

You spent the rest of the night with the boys, caught in easy banter- but particularly, you got to know Chan. He had been living off campus until he’d decided to apply for the fraternities on a whim, ending up with an acceptance to Alpha phi Alpha. He was a business major, with a creative minor in music producing- just like Changbin. He was a natural extrovert, effortless with conversation and people skills, a man married to his work-to the point that he regularly lost sleep over it. He was also a bit of a dork, you noticed, with his random bursts of exaggerated hand movements and lame jokes.

The sun was beginning to rise when you decided to get back home. “It was nice getting to know you, Channie,” you grinned, pulling him into an easy hug and pecking his cheek.

“Likewise, Y/N.” He smiled his captivating smile at you, before walking you to the frat house door. “Before I go, what do you say about exchanging numbers?” You asked. He was a good sort, the kind of guy who’d make a really good friend. Why not?

Chan agreed amicably and sent you off with promises to catch up soon, leaving you feeling light and happy.

To your surprise, he ended up dropping by your sorority the very next morning, asking if you were up for waffles at a nearby café. You happened to be awake at the time and decided to tag along with him- even though it was 6 in the morning.

“The guys refuse to wake up early and join me,” he complained, holed up in the café with plates of waffles and orange juice in front of you. “Chan, be honest,” You chuckled. “The only reason we’re awake at ass o’ clock is because both of us can’t sleep to save our lives.” He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Stop wise cracking and get on eating, Y/N.”

That café run cemented your day-old friendship into one of peaceful camaraderie, a safe space for each other within the chaos of your friend circles.

//

Winter melted slowly into spring, bringing tidings of new beginnings, assignment and semester exams and subsequently, end of semester parties. As always, Alpha phi Alpha was throwing a rager of a party that was expected to be the best all semester.  Your entire sorority had received invitations and were all excited to drown out the stress of exams week. You, on the other hand, were also thinking about something else. Someone, rather-Chan.

You and Chan had only grown close over the course of the past months,  gradually bonding over ungodly morning cafe runs, late night texts between breaks and video calls asking for outfit opinions.

You frequented the frat house more often, a fact that Hyunjin rejoiced (and teased you relentlessly) over. Chaeyoung only gazed at you with a suggestive look in her eyes when you slipped into the room at 2 a.m in the morning with one of Chan’s many black hoodies hanging off your shoulders. What, it was winter, it was cold on your way back from Imperium and he offered! Chan, to his credit, seemed to be just as invested in this newly growing friendship as you were. He walked you back from Imperium whenever he was at the skatepark, invited you on his midnight skate runs,  even almost breaking his arm trying to teach you how to balance on his skateboard.

It was an outlet for his energy, he explained one day. Sometimes working on music or going on a run didn’t give him the same sense of calm that skateboarding did. It wasn’t about the attention for him- with Chan, it almost never was. Not surprisingly, you liked that about him.  You liked Chan, for all his insomniac, stress skateboarding, black hoodie hoarding self.

The party was already in full swing when you and Chaeyoung knocked on the main door. One of the frat boys you didn’t know opened the door, smirking at you before yelling over his shoulder. “Yo, Chan, your girl’s here!”

Your eyes widened, exchanging an amused glance with Chae, who was openly laughing at your expression. Chan’s girl? Not that you hated the sound of that.. But you were just a friend- a friend who had a crush on him.. Right??

Chan hurried to the door that very instant, shoo-ing his frat brother off. “Sorry about that,” he murmured , exchanging hugs and cheek kisses with you and Chae. “To the usual spot?” he grinned, comically offering you his arm.

“Of course, my dearest,” you gushed, the two of you bursting into a fit of giggles as you linked your arm with his, allowing Chan to steer you towards the staircase leading up to the terrace. Once on the rooftop, you were met with a familiar sight- 7 boys giggling and talking amongst themselves in a loose circle near the railing. “Chan, don’t hog all of Y/N’s attention, she’s here for the party, you know?” Jisung called out the second he spotted the two of you heading towards them.

Amidst a gale of laughter, Chan frowned indignantly, opening his mouth to give Jisung a tongue lashing before you broke in, a sly smile stamped across your own face. “Who says I’d mind it??”

A chaotic chorus of 7 male voices responding to you had you laughing aloud, scanning Chan’s face for any discomfort. But he only had flaming ears, shifty eyes,  and a shy smile trained on you- a smile that shifted from shy to teasing in split seconds.

“If that’s the case, then I’m stealing Y/N for the night, you guys!” He declared, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door the two of you had just walked through. “Chan, what are you doing?” You breathed out in amusement, not pulling your hand away. Your heart was beating out of your chest at everything going on, especially with Chan’s warm hand enclosing yours and the way he’d just smiled at you-

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while now,” Chan’s voice was exactly as you knew it, smooth, warm melted chocolate. “Come with me to the skatepark. Just for a while.” Who were you to say no to that voice?

//

Chaeyoung opened the door to the sorority early next morning, squawking in laughter when she saw who stood in front of her. You in Chan’s hoodie, your hand in his, your lipstick staining the side of Chan’s jaw and the kicker- you hugging Chan, quickly landing a soft kiss on his lips before skipping into the house.

Chaeyoung could only look at the adoring look on Chan’s face as you disappeared into the house and close the door, laughing quietly.  Ah, young love. 

[feminist-ravings]

Arguments Against Terfs (#1?)

"Transwomen are men appropriating womanhood" Trans women are women, obviously. But TERFS believe that biological sex is the only thing that matters and gender was created by men to oppress women. I agree that gender is a construct that many times can be harmful. But that doesn't mean we should attack people for identifying as a gender outside of their assigned sex. If we want to encourage gender not mattering in society, shouldn't we support trans identities? If you truly are for gender abolition, you should support the construct of gender expression opening up more because then there is more room for nonconformity. The abolition of gender immediately is impossible, so a slow and gradual ending of gender norms is a good thing for feminism!  Gender nonconforming people and trans people should be supported, and trans people are just as valid because sex isn't the only factor in gender based oppression. A trans woman who passes as a cisgender woman definitely experiences misogyny in her day-to-day life just as much as any cis woman. A trans woman who does not "pass" as a cis woman likely experiences transphobia and trans misogyny, and trans women who don't pass are at risk of high rates of assault and murder. And yes, while trans women didn't experience the oppression of female socialization, they experience misogyny as adults and need feminism just as much as cis women. And when you deny non sex-based misogyny, you are ignoring many cis women AND trans women's reality. Think about how much misogyny we face in our daily lives as cis women that is about gender roles rather than our biology, and could also be applied to trans women as well. While there are many instances of misogyny pertaining to our biology such as restriction of reproductive rights and period shame, there are also incidents unrelated to biology such as slut shaming, sexual harassment, male abuse, dehumanization, objectification, and more that aren't exclusive to cis women. Misogyny affects us both, we should be working together. Trans women are women because they live as women and experience the world as women, and in a sense that's what it means for gender to be a contruct. For some of us, it’s assigned at birth, and for others it’s something they chose. But if woman is an oppressed class created by men, trans women certainly share our oppression. 

"Trans women should not be in women's spaces." Trans women are women, and experience misogyny just as much as cis women. They need safe spaces just as much as we do. Trans women are especially vulnerable to male violence according to statistics and need access to shelters, yet are denied due to prejudice. But there is no evidence of trans women being more violent than cis women. There is no reason for trans women to not be allowed in women's spaces, because again, they are women. Trans women in women's restrooms is not a problem, and we know this for sure because trans people have always been using their preferred bathrooms, and so far society has not collapsed. There is no evidence of trans women assaulting cis women in restrooms, and certainly not of it being a reason people transition. A rapist does not need the permission of a sign to commit rape, and trans women aren't the threats here. "Puberty blockers are child abuse." Puberty blockers are only given after a long-lasting history of gender dysphoria or discomfort in your body and extensive therapy and are completely reversible because all they do is delay puberty until the child is mature enough to make a choice. No life altering decision is made yet. "Trans men are women with internalized misogyny who transitioned to avoid the struggles of womanhood." It appears to me like the reason behind many of the misconceptions TERFS have about trans people is projection. I have seen countless gender non-conforming TERFs say that they believe that if they were young during the current age of increased trans visibility they would have chosen to be a trans man to escape the oppression of womanhood. All I can think of when I see this is, "your struggles are not universal." Not everyone has the same experience as you, and you're assigning the reason YOU would have transitioned to every trans man. When you're operating under this assumption, you won't genuinely listen to their experiences because you're too busy projecting your own onto them. Trans men have a different experience to trans women. That story is for a trans man to tell, but I can say that the experience of a trans man is not transitioning to escape misogyny or because of internalized misogyny. Many trans men are infantilized treated to misogynistic stereotypes because they are trans men, and transphobic people see them as women, so transitioning certainly doesn't free you from the clutches of the patriarchy.  No, being a trans man is more about feeling more comfortable living as a man than hating womanhood from what I've seen from trans men. I suggest actually listening to the voices of the people you claim to empathize with, instead of supplementing your own voice. "Women's liberation and trans liberation cannot coexist." We share the same oppressor. Trans rights are not a threat to feminism, and fighting against trans rights is not only a waste of time for feminists, it holds us back. Time and time again so-called "gender critical feminists" ally with the far-right with the sole goal of bringing down trans women, not caring that they are working with groups that actively fight against women's reproductive rights, and gay rights. Many TERFS are too blinded by their bigotry towards  trans women to even do what's right for their fellow women. All in all, TERFs are pouring their energy towards the wrong group. If any TERFS happen to be hate reading, quit spending all your time harassing a virtually powerless marginalized group and work towards criticizing powerful men again, and the patriarchy. Put your righteous anger towards the right place.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1650

Warnings: None

A/n Hi! Sorry, I know I’m a day late -- I have family in town so I’m soaking up all the time with them that I can. This one is short (and a lil fluffy/angsty), and this chapter and the next are kind of a rest before we hit the next act of this story! Sooo gear up! I’m excited!!! 

I shut the door behind Orophin and Lavandil.

Cosima flops onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. “That was awful.”

I make a noise of general agreement. I hadn’t expected my brothers to take the news happily, but I didn’t think Rumil would completely shut me out. I have no doubts that he will eventually come around, but his reaction is still distressing.

Cosima raises up on her forearms, looking at me in concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, making my way towards her bed. “It may take some time, but I know my brothers. All will be well.”

She scoots from the middle to the far side of her bed and pats the space next to her. I accept the invitation, lying on my back at her side. Vaguely, I notice that her bed is much larger and comfier than mine. I turn to tease her about it, try and cheer us both up, but she’s fiddling with her fingers. I guess neither of us is feeling particularly lighthearted at the moment.

“What is it?”

She sighs, staring up at the ceiling rather than at me. I nudge her arm gently, trying to prompt an answer.

She bites her lip. “You’ve said that you can make your own choices, and I get that, but I’ve got to ask—are you sure? You don’t have to stay with me just because you said you wanted to. I know what you’re sacrificing, and you don’t have to—”

I cut her off, kissing her forcefully. She sucks in a breath and I use that to my advantage, drawing her deeper into the kiss. She recovers from her shock quickly though, and slides a hand up my chest in that way I adore and is slowly becoming familiar. I pull away but keep a firm hold on the side of her face. “Please push these thoughts from your mind. Whatever the future holds, I am in it with you. And a future without you? I don’t want it. It would be different, had I never met you, but the Valar blessed me. They brought an impossible woman into my life. And I have no intention of letting her go.”

The sadness in her eyes breaks, replaced with a look of tenderness that I work hard to memorize. I let the hand on the side of her face slide to rest on her hip.

She places a kiss on my jaw, taking her time to respond, aware that she has my complete attention. “If I had to wake up in a different world with no memories, I am immensely glad you were there. Being with you is worth all that I’ve left behind. Even if I did remember it, I would choose you.”

I exhale slowly, basking in her words. I’ve never been vulnerable with someone before — bearing my heart and hoping they don’t crush it — and every time I open my mouth to confess something to Cosima, there’s the fear that she will shut me down, that she won’t return my feelings. But her words just now, as well as her actions from the past few days, help allay my fears.

“It’s getting late,” she breathes, face mere inches from mine. “You could stay the night?”

My hand on her hip tenses. No, I remind myself. I should go back to my room. But the words that come out of my mouth are not what I told myself to say. “I would not be intruding?”

“No,” Cosima smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I would very much like it if you stayed.”

We are both adults. If she wants me to stay and I want me to stay, then there’s no reason to leave. “Then stay, I shall,” I murmur, dropping my lips to press against hers.

She kisses me languidly for a while before her lips shift into a grin. I pull back with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re the one who has to get up and blow out the candles,” she declares, her tone full of mirth. “That’s really the only reason I asked you to stay.”

I snort, but push myself off the bed, headed for the first candle I see. “I knew it couldn’t be because you love me. That’s too easy.”

“And pull the curtains,” she adds, lifting the duvet so she can crawl underneath it. I watch her slide her eyes shut, smile still spread over her face as she tries not to laugh.

Cosima and I have slept in each other’s company before, and we will do so again for the three weeks of our journey to Lothlórien. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is completely different. It will be the two of us alone, in a bedroom, when we have acknowledged our feelings for each other.

But despite the nerves and the gravity of the situation, it feels completely natural to spend the night with Cosima. I long for her presence during the day, and the night is no different.

And with precious little time together, shouldn’t I seize on every moment?

I blow out the candle nearest to me. It darkens the shadows in the room. I extinguish the remaining candles, close the curtains, and then return to the bed. Cosima has thrown the covers back on what I suppose is my side, making it easy for me to climb in next to her. After the slightest moment of hesitation, I do so. I reach for her, wrap my arms around her and cross them over her stomach, then pull her against my chest. It reminds me of a variation on what I did our very first day of training, an action that caused me no small amount of distress. But now it seems there is no limit to the ways I can hold her, and I plan to explore them all.

Cosima chuckles, evidently pleased with this development. “You remembered the human way.”

“I am capable of adapting,” I respond, dropping my face into her neck.

Her laugh turns into a sigh when I begin a trail of kisses there. “I have a question.”

I hum, continuing my pattern. “Yes, my love?”

She pauses to beam at the phrase. When she speaks, the smile is still in her voice. “Rumil asked if we had bonded yet, and then when you said no, he said there’s still ‘time’. What did he mean by that?”

My lips freeze against her neck. I sigh, shifting to lie on my side and pressing on her shoulder so she’ll turn to face me. I figured we would need to have this conversation at some point, but I hadn’t counted on now. And it’s not the potential for awkwardness that makes me wish I could keep my mouth shut — no, we could get past that — it’s the fear that, once she knows there’s still technically a step we have to take in order for my soul to perish once hers leaves me, that she will end this.

But it is not right to withhold information from her so, with another deep breath, I explain. “He was talking about the bonding of the fæs — in the literal sense. But I love you, I am committed to you, and nothing can change that, so Rumil’s whole notion of ‘time’ doesn’t really apply here.”

Her eyes narrow as she zeroes in on exactly what I’m careening around. “Say there’s some wiggle room.”

“There’s not.”

“But if there were,” she presses, obviously not interested in letting this go.

I sigh. “Traditionally, elves have used sex as a way to facilitate the spiritual bonding of the fæs. That’s what constitutes an elven wedding — that’s what represents and solidifies the commitment. Since we have not had sex, Rumil thinks our fæs are not bonded, so there is time to break the commitment between us without it affecting me.”

She sits up, opening her mouth to comment.

I hurry to sit up as well and cut off her words before she can take this idea and run with it. “But our situation is different. The whole concept of the fæs bonding is not a blanket statement that covers every relationship — there is a lot of choice involved, we are not without agency. And I have chosen.”

She smiles somewhat sadly, letting her fingers drum over my knee. “I wish I was an easier choice.”

I catch her hand in mine. “I quite like where my choices have led me.”

She leans against me, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you.” She shifts, lying down and tugging on my arm to pull me with her. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

I stretch out behind her, then twist the strands of her hair through my fingers. She’s silent, and I worry that, despite my efforts to reassure her, she’s still sad. I know she can’t help it, but I wish that we could leave all this struggle and moroseness behind. In my view, the future is set, my path is clear. Struggling over what that means will not halt the end, nor change it, so we shouldn’t waste time worrying over it. We should prepare how we can and then enjoy our lives together.

Cosima tucks her head into my neck and tangles one of her legs through mine. The action — so unexpected yet so natural — gives me hope that, soon, she and I can fall into a life together. Maybe Lothlórien is the key. Maybe once she can clearly see what our future looks like — a home, friendships, family, meals together at the end of a long day, exploring Lothlórien’s extensive forests and blue-green lakes, festivals, sunrises, all the wonderful things about my home, our home, she can allow herself to be happy.

And I will do everything I can to help her get there.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always so appreciated! Also, I think I made EVERYONE sad with that last chapter, I’m so sorry. But I LOVE that we all collectively love Rumil and want him to be happy forever, right? Soooo, c’mon, hit me with some happy Rumil headcannons <3

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