#i am not built for doing so many things in one day but at least im done

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.

[duffmckagans]

Good morning, Kelsey!! How was yesterday? 🩷 I hope today is wonderful!!

good afternoon, ashley!

yesterday was...a lot! i was up before 5 for my test and did that. i think it went alright. i honestly don't care, because i'm so done. i ran into a bit of a timing issue on one of the sections, but that seemed to be an issue across the board for a lot of people (it's not something i typically run into on practice tests), so i'm hoping the curve works out in my favor? the other sections felt okay, so i just want a score that's higher than my first attempt from october 😭 something to prove that the three extra months i put in/delayed applications for were worth it bc my november score was not </3.

after that, it was my cousin's first birthday party. it was only two hours, but he was so cute omg. i'm not a frequent baby-fever sufferer but i was when he got his first cake. my sister got on video this clip where he was all scrunch-faced and smiling with green frosting all over his face and then kissed his mom/my cousin's cheek and literally just. it was so cute.

after thattttt, i did not end up going to dinner with my friends because i was a.) too tired and b.) not talking to my sister atm bc of a fight i had with her and my mother on friday 😇 (oversharing) so i just went home and watched a mafia movie with my cousins and then went to bed. it was more of what i wanted to do anyway.

today, i'm doing nothing!! i'm gonna be finishing my applications in the 2.5 weeks i have until score release, but i'm literally using today to just rot, which means write. i go back to full time work tomorrow!

how are you? how have you been? i hope today is going well!

[literalgrill]

Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

[everythingisromant1c]

p1: chemistry read w/ co-star!james

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: before filming can start, your director has to ofc find the perfect person to play your love interest, + what better way to do that than to have a chemistry read?

a/n: i will not pretend to know anything abt film/tv production so this is more than probably innaccurate 🙏 also this first one is not my best work but dw more drama will ensue. <33

full series - masterlist

You'd wanted this job more than anything. You'd worked harder than anyone you knew to kickstart your acting career and knew this opportunity was just the way to do it. When your agent called you about an audition for the lead role in a new show titled 'South Bay'—a drama named after the L.A. region itself—and gave you a sample of the pilot script, saying you fell in love with it wouldn't be a stretch. And after those few months later when you'd received the call that you'd gotten the part, it was safe to say you were walking on clouds for weeks afterward.

Your amazing director Minerva had cast you first and foremost, knowing your role was key to the show's success, and you'd already built a strong relationship with her after just a few weeks of knowing her.

After casting you, she'd informed you that the show's next order of business was finding someone to play your character's—Cassidy's—love interest, Aaron. When she'd told you that initially, you didn't think anything of it. But when she told you they already had gone through the first round of auditions for the role and that it was time for the infamous chemistry reads, you had to try your hardest to stay completely calm.

Aside from the fact that you'd soon be meeting the person you'd have to spend hours working with every day for God knows how many months, you also knew that the casting directors were going to be looking extra careful at the romantic chemistry you were supposed to have with the actors they brought in. You willed yourself not to get worked up when the morning came for the chemistry reads with the men auditioning for Aaron, and reminded yourself that your role in the show was already secured. Yet, for some reason, you were still on edge.

Luckily, the casting directors had narrowed down their options from the hundreds of actors who had come to audition for the role of Aaron originally to just a handful, making your job much easier. By the time noon came around, you'd already read from the script with three different candidates.

Just as you'd expected, they each had done a close-to-perfect job in their auditions. Your personal favorite was the second actor you'd read lines with, a sandy-haired guy named Remus who you thought was a really nice person as well as actor. It was important to you that the person you were going to have to pretend to be romantically interested in was a person you at least liked, and it was all too easy to imagine working with someone like Remus.

You'd expressed your thoughts to Minerva when she'd asked for them, and she nodded in agreement—a good sign—before the two casting directors beside her were calling for her attention.

"This next one, Minerva," cooed the curly-haired woman you knew as Poppy from next to her, "we think you're going to like."

"Am I?" she asked, lips curling up.

"Oh yes. When we saw him we knew right away we had to bring him in for the chemistry reading." Poppy nodded to you. "He looks promising. And he certainly has the background; his parents are Euphemia and Fleamonet Potter."

The other casting director hummed in agreement, not hiding their impressed and widened eyes. "Not to mention, he has that accent."

You had to fight your expression from turning sour. A Potter? If there was one thing you didn't appreciate in the world of acting, it was nepotism. After working so hard and starting from the ground up to get your acting career where it currently was, the last thing you wanted was to have to see your director swoon over some guy just because of who his parents were.

Nonetheless, you had faith in Minerva to pick the person who truly deserved the job. You watched her nod at the two women beside her, intrigued nonetheless. She waved a hand over to the security guard by the door in the corner of the room.

"Bring Potter in?"

The burly man nodded and exited the room briefly, and not a minute had gone by before he returned with the man you assumed was the young Potter in tow.

You subconsciously stood up straighter when you saw him, trying to push away any premeditated opinions of the man approaching. Brown curls and a genetically gifted bone structure you could see from feet away, he walked into the room confidently with reason. He immediately offered the security guard who had brought him into the room a handshake, and you watched as the tall brick wall of a man lit up with a bright smile from the gesture. Potter then rolled out more charming words of greeting to the director and casting directors, and you took the opportunity to scan him over in more detail.

With an interest you couldn't explain, you saw that he was strikingly handsome in the kind of way you'd expect the son of two celebrities to be; he was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to him flatteringly, with that sort of movie-star quality you knew audiences always swooned over. It didn't help that the moment he walked in you saw each of the directors turn to each other with raised brows and suggestive smiles that only widened when he introduced himself, charmingly posh British accent and all. You had to fight back from rolling your eyes at their reactions.

"James," greeted Poppy, standing up from her seat to give the man a handshake.

"Poppy," the man regarded, and you felt your eyebrows raise at the fact that he was already on a first-name basis with the head casting director.

She sat back down after a moment, keeping her attention on the man—James—as she spoke. "James, this is Minerva McGonagall, the Director of South Bay."

"I'm such an admirer of your work, Mrs. McGonagall. My parents took me to see your adaptation of Henry Shay's novel about three times when it first came out."

Your parents, you thought internally with some distaste; the famous actor and actress power couple. You had to stop yourself from shaking your head.

"Please, just Minerva," the director responded warmly, and you noted that she hadn't told any of the other actors to call her by her first name. "And thank you."

Poppy nodded happily before she held out an alarming hand towards you. "And let me introduce you to the wonderful actress who is going to be playing South Bay's leading lady Cassidy Ward."

You plastered on a smile and introduced yourself as plainly and confidently as you could, definitely not feeling suddenly conscious of your appearance as his warm-colored eyes raked over you.

James took that second to scan you over before realizing with a simmering feeling in the planes of his chest that there was something special about you he couldn't make out, something that had him wanting to greet you with more than a handshake. He refrained, thankfully, not saying anything after you finished introducing yourself for a second you felt was a beat too long, before scrambling to hold out a hand to you.

"I'm James. James Potter," he said as if you hadn't been already made aware of his last name. "It's an honor to get to meet you."

You didn't know why but his clear flattery only made you more uneasy of him, knowing it was something he'd probably gotten used to pulling out to impress whatever important or famous people he was busy meeting through all the connections he probably had.

You stopped yourself in your tracks; you were being unfair. You'd only known the guy, if you call it knowing him, for under a minute. Shaking off the odd feeling that was creeping its way into your stomach, you shook his held out hand with a polite nod, though that didn't the prying feeling inside you go away.

"Alright." Minerva clapped her hands together, looking between the two of you. "We're just going to do a read-through of scene number thirty-four, Episode three." She motioned towards the camera crew set up behind her, them shooting her a thumbs up.

She turned back around, looking between you and James pointedly. "Remember, your characters Cassidy and Aaron are the only two characters in the show who have known each other for longer than just a few months. They're close. That connection has to be visible, however you want to show that to us."

You didn't know why, but you felt uneasy. You nodded at Minerva regardless, seeing the supportive but anticipatory look behind her eyes as she glanced between you and the man now standing in front of you like you held the answers to all her problems.

James looked surprisingly calm and collected, like there was nothing in the world that could make the James Potter nervous. The more you looked at him and the confident set of his shoulders, the more you thought that was true.

Your director smiled. "Whenever you're both ready."

You nodded, taking a breath in before turning to James. "Where were you last night?"

You watched as James reacted to you in character, his strong brows pulling inwards. "What do you mean?"

You momentarily were taken aback by the almost effortless switch in his accent, but pushed the thought aside. "Last night. When everyone else was at Ryan's party. Where were you?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was in my dorm."

"Really? Because I knocked on your door and no one answered."

"I must've been sleeping. Why do want to know so badly?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the football team got caught last night breaking into the Dean's office."

"You don't think I did that, do you?"

You stared at him and then down at the floor. James—or Aaron, really—shook his head at you, his tone dropping. "I can't believe this."

Then he turned away from you and, as the script had told you to, you grabbed his wrist softly.

"Aaron, wait," you called, and the connection of your fingers to his arm had them tingling with a certain kind of teeming energy, though you didn't let it show on your face. "Of course I don't think you did it. I just don't know what to think. We're supposed to be best friends, yet you won't even tell me where you were."

James let a second pass before he said his next line, and it was like you could see his character's inner turmoil flickering through his mind restlessly when he said, "You want to know where I was, Cassidy?" You nodded. "I was talking with your Professor."

"Professor Brown?" you frowned. "Why?"

"I was trying to get him to let you submit your final thesis late."

"What? You know he told me I couldn't because-"

"Because of me." He paused dramatically, stern jaw working. "The only reason you missed the deadline was because you were helping me when I got too drunk to even make it up the stairs to my dorm."

"That's ... that's really nice of you, Aaron, but you know how Brown is-"

"He's letting you turn it in late for full credit."

"What?" You widened your eyes. "How did you ..."

"I told him how it was my fault you missed the deadline. And I told him about how good of a student you are, how you've never turned in anything late once, not even when we were in high school. But most importantly," he took a step closer to you to hold your hand, something you noted wasn't in the script but made your fingers flood with feeling. "I told him what a good person you were. How kind you are. Even to idiots like me who get black-out drunk during finals week."

You blinked at him, letting a smile overtake your face for a moment. "You really didn't have to."

"I did."

He squeezed your hand and, even if it was only acting, the way he was looking at you so meaningfully made something in your chest tighten excitedly. You didn't have to act when you shifted your gaze to the ground nervously. Why the hell were you nervous? "I don't know how the hell you got him to say yes."

"Well, I also have to wash his car for free for the next six months, but that's just a small detail."

You let your jaw drop. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"Of course I would." James took another step closer, still holding tight onto your hand and not breaking the immobilizing eye contact he'd established with you the whole while. "I'd do anything for you, Cassidy."

He nodded slowly, truly looking invested. Then, in a beat as short as a breath but one that must've felt like minutes to you as you stood there unmovingly, he leaned forward. All you could do was blink as his handsome—ugh, handsome—face neared yours before tilting itself to the right, where he left a soft but lingering kiss on your downstage cheek.

Then he pulled away again, the distance between you maybe a few inches smaller than before, before finally whispering, "Anything."

That definitely was not in the script. Your eyes blinked in an alarm that surely was no longer in character, but James looked unbothered, something you were finding was his natural state of being.

You felt your mouth go slightly dry at the intensity behind his eyes as he looked at you, but the last thing you could do was look away now, so you stayed rooted in your place in front of James as you waited for your signal to break character. Waited and waited; you felt dizzy.

"Cut!"

Minerva immediately clapped, the casting directors doing the same, and you felt like you could finally breathe as you dropped James's hand that was still holding yours and turned away from him, not sparing the man a second glance for nervous reasons you couldn't place. Maybe it was because of the fact that the feeling of his stupid lips was still lingering on your cheek.

Your director's tone was neutral when she said, "Great job, you two," though you watched as she turned passionately toward the two casting directors and they began speaking in hushed tones.

You shook your leg subtly as you waited, an antsy habit that you couldn't identify the current cause of, and you felt James lean down next to you, something that sent a nauseating feeling of déjà vu through you.

"Don't worry," he whispered lowly, taking your mannerisms as a sign of distress. He noted that even when frowning you looked extremely pretty, though at his words you left his lips your frown only deepened. "You did great."

You turned to him in confusion and some offense, trying to keep your voice hushed as you asked, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flicking over your figure for a split second that you definitely noticed. "You just looked tense, is all."

You stared at him blankly, not knowing what he could possibly be implying. Was he saying your acting looked tense? That you didn't look sure of yourself? Like you weren't already the lead and that he was the one auditioning? 

You fought the urge to say that maybe you looked tense because he'd just kissed you on the cheek out of nowhere, and stayed defiantly silent. When you didn't say anything back he let his lips turn up into a lopsided smile that you were sure must work on all the ladies, almost a smirk, and he nudged you in the shoulder a bit like you were old friends. Who was this guy?

Whatever you thought he meant by the statement, you didn't get to say anything back, because Minerva had pulled away from her conversation and was staring expectantly at the two of you. You did your best to soften your expression away from offended and back to neutral.

"Well," she said, turning to the man beside you. "Thank you, James, for coming in."

"Thank you," he responded, tipping his head politely. Then he took a step forward and shook each of the casting director's hands, and you watched with a foul taste in your mouth as their lips visibly fought against fond smiles.

When he turned back around, he held his hand out to you as well, and you regarded it for a moment before shaking it like you did at the start of his audition, though this time it was definitely against your will. His hand was warm and smooth, like he hadn't worked a day in his life, and you hated the fact that you even noted how it felt at all.

Like he knew you didn't enjoy his presence, he smiled at you with something knowing shining in his eyes that you hated before he took his leave, the door to the room shutting behind him.

"That was ..." began Poppy, shaking her head slowly, "Perfect. Just perfect."

You couldn't help the way your lips parted almost exhasperatedly. "Really?" You hoped you hadn't revealed your surprise in your tone.

"Yes," Minerva responded instead, also seeming to be in awe. "Wow." She gestured with her hands exuberantly. "It was like I could see the show coming to life right in front of me."

"Not to mention the chemistry between you two." Poppy tipped her head at you, smirking as she fanned herself. "I mean, wow."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Your throat felt dry. If you heard one more 'wow' from any of their mouths in reference to James Potter again you thought you were going to lose it. You tried to keep the premonition out of your voice as you bravely asked, "So, do you think you're going to cast him?"

Minerva paused for a moment in thought before answering you. "I mean, he was the last actor we're considering for the role, and I think he was the best we've seen today." She looked between the two other casting directors who nodded agreeingly at her words. "But I'd like to know your thoughts."

You blinked at her. "My thoughts?"

"Well, yes," she answered plainly. "He's going to be playing your love interest. And I like to hear my actor's opinions."

You pursed your lips at her words, feeling flattered but also not knowing how you were feeling at the prospect of having to work with James all the time. Although, deep within you, something was nagging at you��something you absolutely did not like—and telling you your answer.

The truth was, the scene you acted out with James felt realer, had come to life more than it had with any of the other actors that day. Maybe it was because he'd taken such liberties with the role, sure, but regardless, he did a great job. The thought made you hate yourself when you finally took a breath in to speak.

"He ..." you began unsurely, and then sighed. "He was great. Really great."

"Perfect!" Minerva clapped her hands together again, and something in your stomach churned. "We'll make contact with him as soon as possible." Her eyes twinkled as she regarded you. "I can't wait to have you two leading South Bay. I have nothing but hope."

"And," Poppy added, "it'll be great for publicity having a Potter in our cast."

The two other directors at the table nodded and murmured in agreement, and you fought from sighing. You thought of the days you'd spend on set with James Potter, of all people, not only having to get along with him but connect with him, with someone who clearly thought they were above you, enough to reassure you when you had already gotten the lead role. And then you thought of what it would be like to release South Bay to the public, your first leading role, only for Potter's undeniably charming face to be the audience's main focus. It left a sour feeling in your mouth.

But it wasn't just that horrible premonition that annoyed you; you didn't know exactly what bugged you about him in particular but you knew it hadn't gone away with his formal handshake or well-practiced manners. In fact, that'd probably only worsened the feeling.

But there was nothing you could really do about it now. At least, not if you planned on keeping your job. You were a professional, you knew that. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy to maintain that title. You really did sigh then, and something rooted in your gut told you it was going to be a long year of shooting.

[amethystheartsx]

Love Built with Frozen Hands.

Hey!!! in the middle of my health issues and family problems I finally managed to churn out this request. yippe! tho it was rushed i am sorry. This was requested by anon, I hope was up to whatever standard you held me on. hope you like it

contains: SFW, Mild Angst (hurt/comfort), non!mcreader. established relationship. Synopsis: au where Zayne is aware of the past lives he went through, remembers the pain of the toxic cycle Astra put him through, He victoriously breaks it this once in this timeline, to forge a path of happiness for him and mc in separate ways, and ends up falling for you. but sometimes, the ghost of the past comes to haunt you back by targeting what you built from scratch with such devotion

It is one thing to be unloved, and a whole nother thing to be loved half-heartedly.

The yearning to have someone who is supposed to be yours, pining after affection that should be promised to you, and craving the attention that should have never been taken away from you in the first place, it was all too cruel; the worst part? You can't even talk about it to anyone, at least not without sounding insecure....feeling insecure. How are you even supposed to talk about it? How do you tell people that your boyfriend pays just a bit more attention to her? Just a little more care than you like. 

are you listening to yourself, she have a terrible heart condition. he is her doctor

The word had rang in your ear one too many times, always making your head hang low in shame. Her doctor, her childhood friend, and the last of something she could hold on to as an anchor.

She had lost so much Caleb and her grandma; she had been through hell and back and still came out stronger than ever, and you couldn't even get over your jealousy?

Did zayne really deserve a partner like you? Or should he be with someone like her.

You did your best. Yes, you did, treating her with the respect she deserved, always keeping a polite demeanor, and never receiving her with a cold attitude. Endurance was a trait that felt like a curse to you but you managed for him, but you were only human.

Zayne had been gone for a whole day now. Mind you, it was one of his rare days off that you had planned to.use for some quality time, but before you could inform him, he informed you that he would be going out with her. Apparently, she had found a place that still sold his favorite Popsicle, one he thought was discontinued, and he looked so genuinely excited you did not have the heart to tell him your plan which was less thought full in comparison, because let's face it, she must have put some extra effort to find that place didn't she?.

If only you could have thought of something with deeper meaning like that, then maybe you would have been the reason behind the sparkle in his eyes.

—--

After throwing yourself a pity party, you decided to fall asleep and get over it. When Zayne did return he found the house quiet and dim which was unlikely, your not staying up till he came back never really happened before, he saunters to the room and sees you asleep, safe and sound in the bed as far as possible from his side as possible, but Jayne thought nothing of it because of course you could just be tired from the day or upset he got so late and slept early, he was sure things would be normal when the sun rises again...but of course, it didn't. They only changed for the worse.

Zayne may not be good with emotions, but actions, he knew very well. Since he was a doctor no little physical detail missed him. The way your kiss didn't linger, felt more like an obligation than an act of love. The way your smile didn't reach your eyes when you saw him return. How conversation got shorter and shorter with each passing day. He noticed how you wouldn't bend and twist your schedule to fit his. Trying to catch each and every available second he had amidst his grueling work hours. How you had started being focused on creating a space for your own, and as much Zayne loved seeing you do well for yourself and focus on yourself and having time for yourself, he wished to be at least a part of it somehow.

On evenings when you both just coexist in the living room doing your respective work, you would sometimes stop doing whatever you were doing just to stare at him with an adoring look till you get scolded by a flustered Zayne, and only then would you go back to work with a dreamy sigh. But now it was only just the endless sound of typing or pen scratching on papers. No jokes, no banters just sounds that turned mechanical after a while.

When it reached to the point zayne could no longer deny that things were not good between you and him, he started to panic.

Being the way he was he doesn't outright confront you but often tries to give you openings to talk about your feelings,

"Hey you have been quiet, is everything alright".

"Eye bags again? aren't you sleeping well?"

"Maybe we could do to cafe together and...talk"

Only to be shut down by you again and again.

Zayne wanted to give you space, respect your privacy but damn it he was going insane. Whenever mc will see him distressed and take him out he barely would have things to say to her and if he did it would be about if he was good enough to be a partner, was there something wrong with him was he just...unlovable?

And each time MC will try to help him, make him understand that it wasn't true, but there was so much she could do. She noticed how Zayne would leap to his phone when it chimed with a specific ringtone he had set for you, a glimmer of relief in his eyes every time he would read your text, no matter how mundane it was, or even short and dismissive. At least...they were some spared words from you.

Zayne came late after a long shift; he hated being used to the silent house again; he hated the lack of warmth in his sheets. The lack of the little sounds you made throughout the day. Whether it be the sound of you humming, talking and gossiping with a friend, your laugh, you working in the kitchen or just dumping weeks worth of information on him, he missed it all so terribly he could not help himself. Not tonight. He finds you on your side of the bed again, as far from his side as possible. He had just showered and changed, slipping in the covers and shifting close to you, lying so he had an arm on your waist, holding you while trying to respect the space you created as much as he had in his heart to take. With deep breaths, he speaks, mostly to lighten the load on his chest

"I- I don't where I have been wrong, but I wish to undo it, unlearn the behavior that had made you so out of my reach. Please yell at me, confront me with my wrong g doings, and hold me accountable...just-just don't shut me out, darling," he choked in a sob, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes and allowing his exhaustion to engulf him to his slumbers with a pained frown on his face. After all, the nightmares he had were nothing compared to suffering from your distance through the day.

Unbeknownst to him, you weren't asleep; you mostly never were. Hoping for something, anything from him, just like tonight. You were unable to move or say something back then but tears that slipped from your eyes reminded you of the beating heart in your chest that still ached for him. The night goes by in a blur; sleep has dripped away alongside those tears, and yet when the morning sun arrives, you keep your eyes closed and pretend to be asleep when he wakes up and shuffles around. Zayne shifts and lifts his weight on his elbow; you can feel his sharp gaze on you; knowing how keen his observation was, you were aware that he knew you were faking your slumber, a pretense to keep him away, to avoid a conversation that would turn to confrontation inevitably. With a heavy sigh, he gets up to prepare himself for yet another day.

You could hear him shower, brush and get dressed. Just when you expect to hear the click of the bedroom door closing behind him, the mattress dips under his weight as he sits next to your sleeping form, those sharp eyes on you once again; one cold hand cups your cheek, rubbing the skin under your eyes.

"I miss you, my love"

His words, though short and simple, carried the weight of his emotions he couldn't express and you almost almost gave in.almost reached back to him but something kept you bound, frozen in place. zayne leans down to kiss your forehead making your pulse quicken but before his lips could make contact with your skin, he pulls away.

zayne was no longer sure if you even wanted him to kiss you, had you had enough of it? Were you done with his kisses? done with him?.

These thoughts made his mind spur, tightening his chest with unbridled feelings he couldn't decipher. He had to get out before he did something uncharacteristically stupid, and so he did. leaving you behind with your own set of conflicting thoughts and whirlwind of emotions.

Why did he back away? Why didn't he kiss? did he finally let go of what little he was holding, after realizing it wasn't worth the hassle? that you weren't worth it?

The thoughts got so overbearing, and you had to remind yourself of the words he spoke last night, things he said that reflected what he wanted, and he wanted her to talk to him, explain what she was feeling, good or bad, and so she decided to do just that.

----

When Zayne was at work he texted you to let you know he would be home early, you noticed how he updated you frequently now about his day no matter how small and irrelevant the detail was he would let you know about it any chance he got. so on your way back you picked up some macaroons from a cafe that opened a few weeks ago, excitement bubbles in your chest to try it out with him. You also sent him a very quick text.

"I'll be home soon too, we need to talk"

Maybe it was because you were carrying too much in your hand, or trying to get away from the crowds of people. You failed to notice the tone of your text that had Zayne freaking out.

The words he never wanted to hear from you, bringing all his fears to life, once again being left alone, abandoned and forgotten.

To wither away without a cause, no one left to mourn the loss.

It was true his soul had loved another in multiple lives, a love fated to face the same demise.

Until he broke to toxic cycle that only hurt him and *her*. Endured and moved on from the pain to find someone he could love and be loved back without the suffering, or so he had thought.

He loved her, he truly did, but now he questioned himself: was it enough, enough to hold her back from flying away from his grasp? Or did he lose his final chance at happiness? She was the beacon of hope, the reward for passing his trials. He never knew loving could be easy, but now he knew that it was easy because you made it so; your selfless love and abundant Care were what made this relationship his safe heaven. If only he had realized that before being on the brink of losing that little beacon he held dearest than he thought.

----

As the storm brewed inside his heart his evol spirals out of control, by the sheer luck of his stars none other than MC was there, for her regular check-up that turned into a therapy session for both of them, she was there when he got the text, seeing her age-old friend who as always so collected and composed lose his mind.

She did what any other friend would do and took him home, trying to console him, but how does one console the man who was always the pillar for others to lean on? Mc stares as she sees him crumble.

This was the love they warned her about.

One way or another she managed to put him at rest. Tears formed in her own eyes to see him so miserable, and she rested her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around in a gentle embrace; a familiar scent and touch calmed Zayne down. Her soft voice begged him not to give up like this and to fight for what he loved. It wasn't you as he wished but at least it was something.

"Am I interrupting something?" Their heads snapped to the direction of the entrance, where you stand,  a little box in your hand and some freckles of snow dusted on your hair. An adorable look tainted by the cold expression on your face.

"Darling I..." Zayne gets up as if MC suddenly stabbed him, his long strides eating up the distance. "It's not what it looked like," MC speaks before Zayne can feel the need to clear the air as quickly as possible; as a woman, she could sense the distrusting gaze you gave them.

"...right" you reply in a flat tone barely sparing a glance in her direction, your eyes fixed on him.

"I-I you wanted to talk to me," says Zayne, who had almost crashed into you, to hold you close against his chest before noticing your distant demeanor. Stepping away from him and walking last Mc you made your way to the kitchen

"Hmm I do" you place the box macaroons on the kitchen island and the pair Insta toy follows you there as well. "Oh-it's from the new cafe? These are really good? No, they are my favorite" he makes a desperate attempt for conversation that doesn't send him spiraling again.

"Have you tried it already? It just open not too long ago"

"Yes, me and MC, we-"

"Of course"

Your tone was a little too bitter when you snapped, a sharp glare in her direction. "Of course, you already tried it, both of you. Together. As always," you chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

Mc steps forward "No, no you get this wrong it was just a long day for Zayne and  I just-"

"Forgot that he has a girlfriend who also wishes to spend time with him?" You finish for her, making her pale. She opens her mouth to defend herself before Zayne steps in front of you, blocking your view. You look up to meet his unreadable eyes. "This is between us. No need to drag her in, it's me you are mad at., Not her," Zayne says, bringing your attention back to him.

"Not a part of this? Zayne the problem *Is* the fact she has been dragged in way too many times? The problem is the fact that there is a crowd. "You finally say the words after holding them in for so long.

"Listen I never meant to"

"I don't care what you meant too" you snap yet again, taking the other girl by surprise. You had never used this tone with her, not once.

"I- feel for you...MC, I want you to be happy. I want you to have the best, a prince, maybe someone famous, hell, even a mafia overlord if that's what you're into." Tears brim in your eyes as you speak. Would it be crazy to add that you wished for a miracle and have Caleb returned?

Just so he could sweep her off her feet and far away from *your man*.

"But can it not be my zayne"  the way your voice broke at the end made the other woman's face soften, the hurt, the pain and the fear of abandonment did not miss her. She was at loss for words opening and closing her mouth before zayne spoke up.

"You need to leave"

The words sank your heart into the deepest pits of despair, wordlessly you grab your bag with a shaky hand before it flies away before you can even hold it, you look up to Zayne who had taken the bag away "I didn't mean you, this is your home" his voice no matter how cool it was at the moment, his eyes made it clear he wanted her to stay. MC didn't want anything more than to leave anyway. She quickly grabbed her bag and aimed for the door. Her feet paused, and she once again turned halfway to face her and spoke, "I am sorry, I really am; I never meant to cause any trouble. He was never mine to even try and take." Before you could even process the words, she was gone.

The silence she left in her wake was deafening.

"Is that what you have been so distant? Because of her?" Zayne breaks the silence. You tried to turn away, but he held you right in your place. "No, you are done trying to get away from me." his assertive voice had an underlying tone that resembled a humble pleading. "There is so much a person can take, and I am at the brink of my own patience." He spoke, but you still pulled away and created distance. "It's not like I wanted to; it's just that's just...." You gulp, taking a deep breath; how dare he stand there questioning when he was the reason for the pain you felt? "You treat her the way I wished you'd treat *me*!"

Your statement made his eyes widen just a little for you to notice. Now that you had started it was time to let it all out, you didn't give him a chance to defend himself raising your voice a notch "you know how I feel like zayne? A place holder. Any moment she says the word and I'll be discarded and forgotten like I never existed for you and-and I know the technicalities alright, her primary physician her childhood friend I know, I know it all" the frustration made speaking a little difficult, heaving a shaky breath makes your voice breaks "but do you remember that in the middle of it all you are something of mine as well!?" Zayne knew words had an impact, but he wasn't aware they could make you bleed.

something of yours as well

His jaw fell slack that he had been clenching so hard. Zayne always felt greedy for defying fates to find you, take you and love you all on his own. Only now he realized he had gotten too greedy, for wanting to keep you and Her in the same boat.

You open your mouth but was silenced by his fingers on your lip, “i apologise if that's how i made you feel, if i gave you the reason to doubt my intentions and sincerity, i take accountability for the fact you felt unloved by me” even if his voice was calm as ever but the shaky breaths he took in the middle of the sentences gave him away.

He knew what had to be done, needed to be done, to keep you by his side as he intended, but he won't deny the fact a part of him was hurt by the fact you would think like that about him if you only knew the forces he had defied to be with you. Zayne took a step closer, holding your shoulders, his cold hands gripped you firmly. "Is that what you think you are to me?" He says gulping down the anger that bubbled in his chest. "A placeholder." The word felt like poison on his tongue. "Just a warm body to hold during cold nights? You think that's what you are to me?” He was more hurt than angry, but in hindsight, he could see that she was not in the wrong to assume due to his own actions, but…she could at least talk to him.

Zayne was nervous, to be more specific, scared.

Right now you were too stunned to speak, the man in front of him was yours, but you had rarely seen him be this vulnerable in front of you. All his life he had thought that to protect your dearest you must always appear strong in front of them, reason why even now he was doing his very best to be composed even if he was hanging by the last thread. The reason he would sometimes let his guard down in front of her but not you. 

Because now that he had mastered his own fate, his dearest was not her. It was you.

You allowed him to speak since it was a rare occurrence, something you had tried to pry out of him but failed many times, till you gave up.

“To make your space is okay, to avoid confrontation till you are ready is valid and to hate me for my actions is also fair but…to change” He chokes a sob, and there it was, the tiny crack. “To shut me out completely is not okay, to assume the worst about someone is not right and-”he takes another shaky breath “and to change the trajectory of our relationship on your own…that's just cruel”.

You could see the remorse under the pain, a glimmer of hope in those accusatory eyes. Reaching out to him, you cup his cheeks; Zayne leans into your touch, lower lip trembling ever so slightly; it had been weeks since you touched him like this, so tenderly. “Zaynie.” The sound of his name from your lips, rolling down with such affection, was the last straw before his tears streamed down his face, just a few that turned into tiny and delicate snowflakes on his skin before they disappeared the moment they dripped down from his chin.

“I am sorry” you both say in unison making you giggle just a little, but him? Not so much.

“She means something to me, yes. And i do care about her” zayn's word felt unsavory to you given the circumstances. He leans down sharp green eyes boring into your “But you” he breathes “but you are my everything. I love you, my sweet girl” zayne doesnt waste a second to kiss you, not one of those soft pecks you had given him, a real kiss. One he had been craving for so long now. He pushes you into the counter gently. Making sure you were steady on your step. When you both pull away breathless, he presses a peck on your forehead.

“You shouldn't be sorry-” this time you silenced him, with a kiss. “My turn now.” you say to which he just nodded, a little too flustered to speak anyway. “I am sorry i avoided the problem instead of solving, but i was scared, scared that if i push it too far and it comes down to it, you will choose her over me” you couldn't meet his eyes when you said that. Zayne grabs the wrist of your hand that was on his cheek and pulls you flush into his chest and wraps his arm around your waist .

If only you knew that he had chosen you such a long time ago.

“I missed you so much. Please, don't ever make me feel alone again.” Your voice was still a little breathy from the kiss, and it was making his head spin, but he knew he had to control there was still a lot to actually discuss. “And I missed you, darling,” he sighs; he doesn't let go, though, resting his chin on your shoulder while your face is nuzzled into his chest. Just basking in each other's presence. “I promise I will do better, Let's talk things out, yeah. We can set whatever boundaries you want to have. There is nothing I won't do just to keep you by my side, love; you are the destiny I choose for myself”.

As much as you know your relationship needs work, on both ends. His sincere words made you assured the love you wove together, would keep you warm for a long time.

[north-kieren]

Perma Shifting - as a successful shifter and my view on it (I just wanna yap that's all)

Earlier today I had seen a rather popular shifter speak about her shifting experiences and her not believing in Perma Shifting. This caught my interest, mainly because i myself am a Shifter who DOES believe in PS, and I also know a lot of successful shifters who also believe in it.

I overall just am very intrigued in the idea of what people mean by not "believing" in PS. Do you not believe in choosing to stay in your Dr? Or do you not believe in the ability in staying one exact reality for permanent? This is a bit of a wormhole I know, especially for shifters who plan on living multiple lives- for a very long time. How do you guys feel about immortality? In the sense of shifting away before death anyway.

Questions and curiosity aside, I personally believe in PS because of my own perspective. In my eyes, every Dr of mine is the same level of reachability as my Cr, like they're all in range of possibility if I chose so. When I shift, taking my MHA Dr for example - in my eyes, that place THEN becomes my current reality. Because it's where I'm currently at. I choose to shift back to the previous reality (my now current reality) and this has never happened without my intention behind it.

Take another example, my Navariah Dr.

This Dr is a place that isn't a media, or a book, it's a random and made-up fantasy world I had built in a whim and chose to shift to after I had gotten a taste of fantasy-esk realities from my Dragon Dr. I had shifted to this reality relatively quickly, and get this! I stayed for an entire 9 years and 7 months. That's almost a decade you guys.

The plan wasn't to stay that long in the slightest, I shifted purely to get a peek into the world I had created and see what it looked like and possibly use that sneak peek to form my decision on shifting back there later on. But guess what you guys?! This ended up being my top, longest shift I had ever done by far. Each month went by, and eventually my previous reality (my now Cr) had been a distant memory and pretty much old news. I wasn't worried about anything going on here at all while in Navariah, because I had gotten so caught up in that world and everything happening over there - the clock continued to tick whether I was paying attention or not.

Of course, I thought about my Cr often, but truthfully I hadn't started debating on actually coming back until the 5th year. In my opinion, this is a grand example of what it could look like/feel to shift and find that you have no current desires to shift back.

If I could shift, and stay in a Dr for almost an entire decade, who's to say someone out there hasn't already decided to spend the rest of their days in a Dr? Or at least, making that place - whatever it is - your new home Cr.

Do I ever plan on PS? I have absolutely considered it. Hell, if we're bringing TECHNICAL HERE🌚 I have, but not in some big revolutionary way. The Cr I am in right now is a place I've shifted to probably two years ago now (?) it's been a long time. Where I am now is a place that I had built for myself back then, and I live it everyday. However, there are other places i had given thought to staying permanently. Navariah, again, is a great example of this. I miss my life dearly there, I miss my family, I miss my friends and lovers, I miss my Dragons, I miss my magic, and I miss the lovely planet Navariah flourished on. The way the sun set and made the sky dance with colors and personality that my Cr's sky lacks. There's so many things that make me half convinced to leave everything and just go back home to Navariah.

But what about you all? What about HERE. I've spent the first quarter of my life in this plane of existence, with a constantly growing and changing reality as my Cr. I've built something here, and I feel that there's something I need to see out here. A teeny, tiny voice tells me that it'd be in my best interest to stay and find out - to experience. And so, that was enough to keep this place as my planted home-point.

For those who permashift, I support you wholly. I don't need details or a reason to, this is your life and these are decisions that are entirely yours to make nomatter what opinions I or anyone else may have.

Whoever you are, we believe in you.

[goodishgirlx]

How does it feel to know, deep down, that most men in your life have pictured you with your lips wrapped around their cocks? That men you think respect you, see you as an equal, a coworker, even a friend see a usable set of holes when they look at you? That so many men have dreamt of using your body like a fleshlight? That wherever you go, whoever you meet, you will always and forever be seen as no more than an object to get cocks off? That almost at all times, there is at least one man eyeing you up, thinking about your pretty, innocent body in obscene ways? Thinking about they would love to stretch out your young pussy with their dicks, and cum unprotected inside you? Thinking about groping your butt and legs to feel your young flesh? How does it feel to be so built for taking dicks and pleasuring men that they literally thing about it as the first and last thought of every interaction they have with you?

i think about this a lot... that i can never escape that my body was literally made to make men hard. every part of me evolved to make a man's cock hard, to tempt him enough to grope me, use me, and hopefully, if i'm very good and tight and pretty, to make him cum inside me. i can try to fight it. i can study hard and work harder and try to make men see me as smart and responsible. even, at least, just as a complete person. but it would be hopeless because you're right, sir- i am an object to get cocks off, and every man i meet knows it.

the best i can do is give up on trying to make men see me as a person. if all i'll ever be is a fleshlight, then all i can do is be the best fleshlight any man could ask for. i'll wear shorter skirts and tighter tops. i'll grow my hair longer and never miss a day of makeup. i'll stop trying to make them listen to my stupid ideas. my only role in conversations is to smile, nod, and giggle stupidly. i'll make sure to brush my chest or ass against men i notice staring at me. i'll bend over to let them see my bare little cunt. i'll thank them when they grope me. i'll drop to my knees for any man who asks, and hope i'll do a good enough job sucking his cock that he'll use me again. i'll encourage men to see me as the toy i am and use me the way i was meant to be used.

[zirconika]

hii! i NEED daryl angst like where his partner gets bitten or something? or maybe she passes in child birth? It's up to you, just something on how he would react and cope ig? i love your writing! btw :)) 💗

happy ending

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 3k SUMMARY: Several times you thought you would die, and yet nothing could have prepared you for saying goodbye just when you finally have your little family with Daryl and your little ray of sunshine. WARNINGS: think about angst then double it and give it to yourself. major character death. talks of pregnancy and childbirth. SETTING: commonwealth A/N: definitely my most gut-wrenching fic so far. i love u nonnie thank u for ur kind words!!! reblogs are appreciated <3

Many times, death has attempted to recruit you into its care, beckoning you to stay. And in every single attempt, you managed to resist: the flu in prison, the uninfected arrow Dwight sent flying that hit your shoulder, and just a month ago when you brought your little girl into the world.

At the center of it all was Daryl Dixon. In every instance you thought it was your time to pass, Daryl was there. You’ve said goodbye more times than you can count, and you thought you were ready.

“Daryl?” you’d called out to him when you wavered in between life and death, your shoulder sore from the arrow hit. He’d held your hand the entire night, his eyes a little more wrinkled, a little more glassy. “I should’ve kissed you back then.”

It was always like that whenever you thought you were at the end of your life. Your time with Daryl was built on close goodbyes. You always managed to bounce back, always ended up surviving. 

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore,” you had muttered to Daryl, your eyelids begging to shelter your eyes into oblivion.

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, forbidding you to die on him as Tomi instructed you to breathe in between your pushes. He held your hand with a tighter grip, with a plea somewhere in his grasp. “Please, [Y/N]. I know ‘ya can do this.”

You could remember how gentle his kiss had been on your forehead.

You could recall the desperation in his voice, his eyes, and his touch as he begged you to have the little family you’d been planning to have together.

You thought it was your time to go when you went into labor, and he refused to let you go then. You doubt he’d ever let you. 

This time, though, the moment the bite on your shoulder made its mark on your skin, you knew you were done for. In your mind, you pictured an hourglass with its sand draining minute by minute… 

Any other day, you would have been prepared to surrender to the horde of walkers closing in on you. There was no use wiping off the bite on your shoulder, but you could use at least one more day with Daryl and the little asskicker you’d brought into the world together.

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you powered through. The next thing you knew, you were holding Rosita’s hand on your way up, your mind only focused on seeing your Daryl and your baby girl one last time.

You were grateful you had entrusted her under Carol’s care. You would never have been able to forgive yourself had you lost her while holding her…

Glad that nobody noticed, you ransacked a closet for a thick jacket, simply stating you wanted to take extra safety measures, internally scolding yourself that you should have done so earlier. You had watched Rosita caressing Coco’s head, pressing a kiss against her baby girl’s forehead.

Your heart broke at the sight. You’d never see your daughter grow up, nor will you get to grow old with her daunting father. 

When you were reunited with Daryl, you found yourself clinging to him a little tighter than you should have, breathing in the scent of him as if you would be able to bring at least that piece of him with you to your grave.

He held you just as tight, and you let him.

“Our baby—?”

“She’s fine,” he whispered to your ear. “Ya have no idea how relieved I am that ya made it. I’ve never been so damn terrified.”

Your heart sank.

How would you ever be able to tell him? 

This was final. It wasn’t something you could just heal from or have chopped off or survive. It was real this time, and there was no escaping it.

You were just having a hard time accepting it and finding the right words to break it to him, if there were even any.

The following day after the grand win, you felt the celebration all over the town. You took it all in: the food laid out on the table that would have looked more appetizing to you had you not gotten yourself into this situation; your friends laughing together, both the ones you’ve known right from the start and the ones you’ve only recently met; and most of all, your little family.

You watched as Daryl came from the room, having just finished his turn on changing your baby’s diaper. You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he looked so natural carrying her.

You hated that the world was robbing you of seeing more variations of the scene. You thought back to the prison when Daryl first carried baby Judith. Though the two of you hadn’t given into your feelings for each other then, some part of you knew he’d be a good father.

And here he was now, entertaining your little ray of sunshine. He looked from her to you, telling her,  “Say hi to yer mama, pretty girl!”

You watched as she cooed, her eyes seemingly taking in the world around her. She probably couldn’t process anything yet, much less perceive anything, but you set that common knowledge aside.

You smiled at your baby, taking her from Daryl’s grasp and pressing her against your chest. “Hi, sunshine.”

You felt Daryl’s eyes on you, and you watched as his face shifted from contentment to contemplation. He leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand to your neck.

“Are ya alright? I can take her off your hands if yer tired. Ya don’t gotta force it if—”

“I’m okay,” you told the archer, but your pale lips and sunken eyes said so otherwise. But you were running out of time. You considered the right way to handle it. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, sunshine, anythin’.” 

It was sinking in. It was becoming realer and realer every time you got closer to confessing about it. “No, I—I wanna talk to you outside. Alone.”

Before Daryl could even peep a question, you called out to Rosita, the nearest companion within the vicinity you could entrust with your daughter. She picked her up with no question, happy to be able to help. 

Confused, Daryl followed you out the door. 

“Ya ain’t breakin’ up with me, aren’t ‘ya? ‘Cause that’d be stinking shitty of ‘ya,” he joked, but you could tell he was nervous. You laughed nonetheless, longing for this normalcy for longer than you had.

“No, idiot, I wish.”

Daryl laughed, too. And he pulled you into an embrace. You took the opportunity to breathe him in again as deep and as much as you could. He reeked of Daryl.

And as you remained in this embrace of his, you couldn’t help but let your defenses shatter and let your eyes let go of the heavy dam of tears it had been fighting to contain for the past several hours.

He pulled you away from his chest. “Hey, hey. S’wrong?”

Just rip off the band-aid. Just rip off the band-aid.

So you do. Reeling yourself for what was to come next, you uttered the words you’d been denying to say in fear that saying it would make it real, even though it already was: “I got bit.”

The words were rolling boulders in his hike. He didn’t know what to make of himself, of the world. Everything and nothing seemed to run through his troubled mind as he looked at you with something you couldn’t describe.

“Daryl,” you manage to say, your sorrow getting a hold of your voice. “Please say something.”

He looked away in desperate search for a solution as if he’d find it in a tree from a distance. Daryl looked back at you. “How long? We still might have time to cut it off.”

“Daryl…”

Three seconds.

You looked at each other in those three long seconds that felt like eternity, but it would never be enough. Nothing could make up for the goodbye you had yet to say to each other. No amount of previous farewells could conclude this one with justice. 

You pulled down the back of your sweater to reveal the bite mark just below your neck, right where he loved to kiss you.

“S’not that deep,” he said hopelessly. “S’probably not even enough to— to—”

“Daryl…” You watched as he had to step back, his world spinning as he thought of ways to save this, to save you. He ran his hand through his hair and down his face, then rubbing his eyes as if it would push back the tears he wanted to contain. It couldn’t.

“Nah, nah,” he said over and over, pacing in the same spot of grass he stood on, racking his mind on potential solutions. There weren’t any, both of you knew that. “Ya ain’t gonna— Yer not gonna go. It ain’t time. You—! Fucking—!”

Daryl held you again, and you let him as you felt his chest rise and fall unsteadily from the lurching grief from inside him. You felt him cover his mouth while he embraced you in his poor attempt at concealing his sobs.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you cried against his chest. It reminded you of all the times he held your hand in every single instance you thought it was your time to go. “I love you more than anything, I love you, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I love ya too, please don’t leave us.” Daryl felt selfish asking you such an impossible favor, but he felt he had to try. It wasn’t meant to be a request for you to fulfill, but rather a plea to anyone who was listening who could, by chance and by miracle, possibly give you more time together. 

Maybe there was someone listening, hence your time kept being delayed. Now it ends here.

That day, it wasn’t just Daryl you bid farewell to. You said goodbye to all your friends one by one, embracing each and every one of them as tight as you could.

You were finally ready, you think.

As Daryl lay you in bed, giving you your little girl to cuddle for your last moments, he knew he’d never recover. He sat opposite you, watching as you rocked your sleeping daughter.

He looked away, the lump in his throat threatening to be responsible for another downpour of his cries. 

“Hey,” you said, sorrow just as present in your eyes as you reached out to put one hand on top of his. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Although you were assuring Daryl, you were also trying to assure yourself.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he said. “I’m—Shit. What makes ya think I can go on a day without you? I shoulda been there with ya, keepin’ ya safe and sound. M’sorry.”

Daryl laced his fingers with yours, pressing an apologetic kiss against the back of your hand. You used it to cup his face, feeling every inch of it. 

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “Daryl, the past two years and way back have meant so much to me. I love you.”

He shook his head, still unable to accept what was to come. “I should’ve told ya sooner what ya meant to me. Spent too much time dilly dallying, thinkin’ there’d be more time. Maybe then we could’ve—! I never even got to give ya the wedding ya wanted. I was plannin’ for it, y’know? I’d already talked to Gabriel ‘bout stuff, asked Carol the best… I should’ve—”

“Daryl,” you cut him off. “I regret nothing. I love our story. And you’ll tell it to the little ass kicker here once she’s old enough, you understand?”

Your heart broke at the sight of your heart broken dearest. 

“Daryl, I need you to promise me.” You brought his hand to your cheek, pleading with him. “Tell our story. No covers, no fixes, nothing. I want you to tell it to her bare.”

He nodded. 

“A part of me wishes that it had been my time all those years ago, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much now.” Looking down at your baby, you couldn’t help but sigh. This was the last time. She wouldn’t even be able to remember you. “But then we wouldn’t be having this little family now and I just end up thanking every force of nature that I was lucky enough to have this even though it’s at my end.” You look up to you to see Daryl, his eyes glassy and forlorn. “I love you. I wish I told you sooner, too. I hope you felt it even before I could say it.”

“I did,” he raised your hand to his lips again and he kissed it with so much more love than you could possibly even imagine. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, don’t wanna spend the rest of my life mournin’ ya than being with ya.”

He say closer to your right, and you felt his warmth emanating from his presence. He hung his arm over your shoulder, caressing it and paying no mind to the bite that your shirt covered. Daryl looked down on you and your baby.

“She looks like ya,” he commented. “M’grateful she does. She’s gonna see her face and know how beautiful her mama is.”

You noticed he didn’t say was. Your heart ached.

“I left you two something,” you told him. “While you were asleep last night I… It’s in our closet. There’s the rolls of films from the disposable camera I planned on having developed but never did.” You laughed, remembering something. “We have pictures there together that you could maybe show to her.”

Daryl kept pressing little kisses on your hair, breathing you in every single time. “I love you,” he said as he kissed the same spot over and over.

“I don’t wanna go,” you confessed. You had no intention of breaking down in front of your husband for his sake. You didn’t want him to feel helpless, but… It was all so real, so final already that it scared you. “I thought I was ready, I’ve said goodbye to you more times than I can count and—Daryl, I want to watch her grow up with you. It’s so unfair I—I thought we'd eventually get a happy ending!”

He held you as you whimpered. Daryl was just as terrified, but he could tell you needed him to be strong. He held you again, his eyes looking down at your baby.  “S’alright, S’gonna be fine. I’m here. We’re here.”

Daryl wanted to cry, to break down. He didn’t want to do it in front of you. He could wait. 

“I don’t wanna say goodbye, either,” he said, moving away so you could see each other better. 

“So let’s not.” You looked at Daryl and your baby, thinking of all the times you’ve said goodbye to your husband way before. “We’ll say ‘Till next time.’”

The two of you shared your last laugh together, but you needed it untainted. You refused to cry now. You wanted your last memories to be happy.

“Daryl,” you started, “I can do it, okay? You don’t have to—”

“Shh, s’okay. M’here for ya. I ain’t gonna leave you on your last minute.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him before looking back down to your still asleep baby girl. “Till next time, baby. I hope I have to wait long before I see you again.”

You press a kiss on her little forehead, willing her to live a long life for you. Feeling your eyes sinking into a deep sleep, you nodded to Daryl, who then took your baby off your hands. 

You watched as he carried her out of the door, handing her over to Carol who gave you a warm smile from the doorway. You smiled at her as well before she left to cradle your baby.

Daryl grabbed the knife from the bedside table and sat next to you. His heart broke at the sight of you. You were pale, drained, and dying.

“Can I lean on you and pretend I’m just sleeping?” you asked him. Daryl nodded m and found the right position for himself. He let you lean on his chest, his arm wrapping from under your neck. “Till next time, Daryl Dixon.”

“Till next time,” he nodded. He let you lean on his chest for so long. You let your eyelids close, its weight too heavy to keep open, letting yourself sink into the comfort of your husband. 

Daryl didn’t want to do it, but he knew he had to. He tried to keep his breaths stable so as to not wake you.

With one last kiss against your head, he plunged the sharp end of the knife against the side of your head. He kept his lips right there on your head, and he let go of the knife to fully embrace you. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but someone eventually had to come in and tell him it was time.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Daryl Dixon mastered the skill of cradling his daughter to sleep. And when he did, he forced himself to face the monster in the closet he’d been avoiding facing.

Upon opening the closet, he found a child’s caboodle. He hurriedly opened it, desperate for a trace of you, and you were right.

You appreciated Carl’s last words to everyone, and you realized you wanted to do the same. Daryl ran his finger through the envelopes tucked inside. He knew there was a letter for him and your baby in there somewhere, but he didn’t think it was the time just yet.

He didn’t want to read it just yet for the sake of having something new to hear from you a little ways down the road. 

What Daryl did, though, was hurriedly bring the three disposable cameras to get it developed. 

Soon, he’d be delighted to see you again. The cameras were from back when he was training with Mercer. You and Judith took the free time as means to spend it together and make memories. 

Soon, Daryl would find pictures of you and the kids. He’d also find photos of you and your baby. What would really make him a little less heartbroken, though, was a picture of the three of you.

But right now, he was just grateful to feel the surface of the caboodle, knowing your hands had once carressed it as he whispered to the box, “Till next time, sunshine.”

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[csuitebitches]

How to Wake Up Early

I always wanted to be one of those girls who would wake up early, go for a run and be super productive with their mornings. The issue is - i really love sleep. Every time i would start a routine, i would eventually fail. I would wake up to turn the alarm off, think to myself “5 mins more” and boom- it’s suddenly 8:30 am and i need to leave for work in less than 1 hour.

Two videos on YouTube really changed my mind. One was Andrew Huberman’s, and the other was Jihyo, a k-pop star.

I came across Andrew Huberman’s video about dopamine, and somehow, it helped me to understand why the difficulty waking up early is so important. Now I’m no expert of neuroscience, but let me explain to the best of my abilities.

Dopamine is essentially the build up to the reward; it is not the reward. It is the satisfaction and happiness you feel (when your body releases), after you have achieved something that was painful/ required you to struggle a bit. In order to receive this reward, you have to feel pain, because pain and satisfaction are directly related to each other. Satisfaction without pain is useless and does nothing for you essentially.

That got me wondering: for me, waking up early is difficult. It’s painful. I dont want to do it. But if I do it, its my first win of the day. It’s the first challenge I have overcome of that day, and I always do feel amazing after. The dopamine release after the struggle of waking up and winning the battle of not going back to sleep is definitely there. I feel more confident because a) I have done the “right” thing b) selfishly, i can do something so simple that a lot of people struggle with c) it weirdly makes me feel more confident and like I’m doing the first step of being an adult right.

Jihyo’s video was quite random - she did some show where it shows her daily life when she’s not working. Parts of it made me feel like she’s unable to just relax with herself (probably because her body and mind are so used to chaos, performing, her girl group living together for so many years) so she busies herself a lot. I took the positives from the video; she’s extremely disciplined which I admired, she gets her chores done, she’s good at ensuring that her space is truly her space.

So I decided to build a relatively foolproof routine; but mind you, it does require quite a bit of willpower.

I’ve developed a habit of waking of waking up at 5 am. I head straight for a 30-45 minute meditation and then at least an hour long workout. I stack my habits that way; right after meditation, I put on my running shoes. I used to really struggle with waking up, even if I had to wake up late. This is the strategy that worked me, see if it works for you.

1. Reset your space the night before

This makes you feel less stressed in the morning and also genuinely makes you feel like you have your shit together. Put your clothes away, keep your bag in its place, clean up your desk, reorganise your make up and skin care products. You’re going to go to sleep and wake up to a clean space.

Make sure you define both your bedtime and wake up time. My bedtime is 9:30 pm - so i manage my chores, reading, dinner, everything around that.

2. Early dinner

I’ve noticed that early dinners help me sleep better. I’ve built the habit of casually walking for 25-30 minutes post dinner (not right after eating, after about 15 mins). I’m not walking fast to a point where I’m sweating and puffing, I’m casually strolling outside. During this time, I don’t listen to music, interact with anyone or my phone. I use this time to connect with myself and think about whatever I feel like.

3. No devices before sleeping

I don’t want to stimulate myself before sleeping, so I prefer reading before bed. If you don’t like reading, you can instead do your skincare, maybe revise some physical study notes, etc.

4. Using Alarmy app

This app is torture and I swear by it. This little thing makes you a solve a challenge of your choice in order to make the alarm stop, like math problems, puzzles, etc. I chose 5 math problems.

5. Keep your phone across the room

Don’t charge it near your reach. Keep it as away from you as possible.

6. Stand for two minutes after shutting off the alarm

Don’t allow yourself to snooze, or go back to bed. This is the part that really requires you to tell yourself: “i am not going back to sleep. I’m going to wake up and do the things I have to do for my own benefit.” Remember - the states of heaven and hell are not outside of you, they’re inside you. They are mental states. You have to fight with your lazy demon and tell him/her/whoever that NO; we are NOT going back to bed.

I charge my phone across the room so that forces me to walk first thing in the morning. To stop myself from going back to sleep, after i have shut the alarm off, i just stand for 2 minutes. I dont sit, or go back to bed. I stand and tell myself, we’re doing this. We’re going to wake up and have an amazing day.

Your mind is like a child with tantrums and mood swings. Your rational self has to discipline your mind the way a parent would to a child.

7. Turn a small light on

Not something that is jarring or overwhelming, but enough to help you start waking up. I turn my phone’s flashlight on and keep it on my desk.

8. Be consistent, even on weekends

The biggest mistake you can make is not being consistent. Your body doesnt recognise weekends, your mind does. Your body doesn’t know that tomorrow is Monday, so its time to wake up early. By staying consistent (yes, I wake up at 5 am on weekends too), it allows my body to develop its own body clock and not wrecking the system I’ve kept in place.

What do I do if I have a late night?

It really depends. Let’s say I come home relatively early (+2 hours around my bedtime) around 11 pm, and im in bed by 11:30. I’ll wake up somewhere close to 5 am, like 6 am instead. The next day I ensure I’m in bed by the bedtime I’ve kept for myself and wake up at 5 am again.

If I come home really late, like 3 am - i keep my alarm exactly 8 hours from that time. I need to get sleep, but oversleeping is an issue and that wont allow me to wake up early the next day. I want to get enough sleep where im rested for the day, but not excessively. Unfortunately, sleeping so late would definitely mean that i wont be able to fall asleep at my dot 9:30 pm bedtime, but i turn the lights off and get ready to sleep by then anyway, and mentally prepare for my 5 am wake up call.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack: Epilogue

Trigger warnings: none

One year later Chan returned bloodied and covered in dirt with a naked Hyunjin. Chan had spent 13 months searching high and low for the lycan. Chan branded his alpha deep into his mind so he knew who to find. There were many lycans south but he wanted to find Hyunjin. He fought Hyunjin several times but had lost him. The lycan's consciousness was getting more animalistic and Chan found it difficult to pin him down. When he did Chan dragged him to a witch that he bargained with. Seven years ago, Chan would have been disgusted with collaborating with a coven of witches but that night it was all or nothing. He couldn't go back to Straykids knowing he caused his Luna pain. He caused his wolves pain. He almost got his own wolf killed because of his uncle. He couldn't face them without bringing him back. "How do you think they are?" Hyunjin asked tiredly. "I don't know," Chan said honestly.

They weren't good. The first day Y/N was in hysterics. She mourned both of them for weeks. Jeongin was worried they were going to lose the pup to her sadness. Yet they didn't, the pup was growing strong in Y/N's womb. The pup was kicking away, reminding his mother that he loved her. The pup forced Y/N to do better so she got up every day and worked alongside Jeongin to make Straykids strong again. They hacked into Chan's assets to continue them and even started to build a werewolf community for distant werewolves who lacked a pack or wanted to be trained. Minho used his skills as an elder to build the school and even taught them alongside his two best elders who helped build the school. Changbin completed his training at the hospital and built a werewolf hospital with Jaehee so that any werewolves could come if they needed it. It was an anonymous place. Even for lone omegas, they could come here to be treated. Felix and Jisung had built a new play area for the pup with Seungmin who spent most of the time shopping online because he wasn't a builder.

It took them a while to build themselves back up again but with their Luna and new Head Alpha they could do anything. They were much more protective of her. Minho wouldn't let her out of his sight. Jeongin slept with her every night as she carried their child. Jisung babied her with Felix and made sure everything was up to her standards. Seungmin and Changbin were more like guard dogs during the year. Nobody left. Jeongin tried to get Changbin and Seungmin to find Chan but they couldn't. He was gone and they had to accept that. That was the hardest thing for all of them. Losing two alphas for a tragedy.

Chan and Hyunjin walked up to the front door listening to the noises in the house. They could hear Minho scolding them for eating like dogs. They could hear Felix's laughter. They could hear Jeongin's deep voice. They could hear the coos of a baby. A little baby. Their hearts broke as they realised they missed the birth of their firstborn pup. They wanted to know who they were. What their name was. Hyunjin and Chan looked at each other before knocking on the door. "Get the door Changbin," Jeongin ordered. "I'm eating," Changbin said with a mouthful of food. "For ancestors' sake. Take him." Y/N growled. Chan and Hyunjin felt nervous as Y/N's steps came closer to the door. It made them feel nervous.

As soon as Y/N opened the door they gasped, but before they could look at her and the infant in front of her, she shut the door on them. She wasn't ready to see them. When the door opened again it was Jeongin. He looked different. Taller. Muscular. He was looking like a true head alpha. Chan felt undeniably proud of his young alpha. "What are you doing here." Jeongin's voice was gruff. "To say how sorry I am. Truly I am Alpha Jeongin. I had to find Hyunjin and bring him back home. At least let him come in to be treated and then I will leave." Chan promised. He would leave if he didn't belong here. If he was not welcome he would leave. "Come in through the back. I don't want to involve my children." Jeongin said as he shut the door, guiding them to the back door. "Children?" Hyunjin whispered. "Yes. Lucas and Moon. Both boys. Both Apex's." Jeongin said proudly. "Apex." Chan gasped, making Jeongin growl protectively. Chan lowered his head. Even though the firstborn was his, Jeongin had taken responsibility. "If our Luna allows it you can meet them."

Of course, Y/N allowed Chan and Hyunjin to meet them once they were treated, bathed and clothed. She allowed them to meet the tiny apex alphas, once they met her. As soon as they saw her they both dropped to the floor. Chan at her feet, hugging her like a child. He had so many words to say to her and he did. He apologised profusely for everything he did but Y/N refused to hear it. She wasn't angry or hurt anymore. If anything, she was glad he was home back with her. Even Hyunjin apologised but Y/N had no reason to blame him, he was sacrificed because of Joshua. None of it was his fault. Y/N embraced them both tightly for a while before she prepared them to meet Lucas and Moon. "Right. Lucas is very wary of new people. He might not let you hold him but I can try. He doesn't really like Jaehee when she comes around. Moon is sensitive and needs to be close to me or his father's." Y/N said. The two alphas nodded ready to meet them. "Are they all referred to as father?" Hyunjin asked. "Yes. Father Minho. Father Seungmin but Jeongin is just father because Moon is his. It will be the same when this little pup is born, Minho will be just father." Y/N explained. "You're pregnant again?" Chan asked nervously. "Every time they breathe on me I'm miraculously pregnant." Y/N sighed. "Alright let's try Lucas first."

It was a sweet moment when Chan met his son who was being held by Seungmin. Seungmin carefully placed the one-year-old into his arms, confusing Lucas with the stranger. Lucas looked up confused at who this stranger was, but he didn't cry or scream like he normally did. Instead, he froze looking at his fathers for help, but when he saw his mother's smile at the stranger he relaxed. Y/N picked up the infant Moon and showed him to his older brother who giggled. Lucas wanted to grab Moon seeing his little brother smile. Y/N past Moon did Hyunjin with Jeongin's approval but Hyunjin looked petrified. He didn't know how to hold an infant but he learned quickly. It was bittersweet because despite how cute these baby Apex's look. They were going to stick to Hyunjin's orders and become a nuisance in the future as soon as they were presented as Alphas.

Chan redeemed himself but became the third alpha. He didn't remove Jeongin from his position instead he adapted so he could spend more time with Lucas. Hyunjin kept his position and became even more protective of Y/N as he tried to recreate the bond that was broken. He wanted to be exceptionally close to her. The other wolves worked hard on their projects. The school was running fine and when the boys were older they would join. Changbin and Jaehee had bought a plot of land down the road to build their hospital. Jisung, Felix and Seungmin worked on assets so they didn't need to do anything big. Hyunjin on the other hand became an art teacher for the students and employed other art teachers who he vetted. So, it is a happy ending after all.

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[waywardstation]

About the reblog game--is the POV going to stay on Ingo the whole time or are we going to get Akari randomly showing up incredibly confused and possibly falling from the sky again

On that note, did Akari even get sent back? Some of your works sort of imply that Arceus is kind of cruel and it won't let them go back together, so is she like fistfighting it right now to get sent back too? It would be absolutely GUTTING for Ingo to finally remember Akari only to find out that she never got sent back and then yet again start to beat himself up over the hypotheticals <3

As far as I know, it will just stay with Ingo. It’s planned to so far, but of course a winning option could always change that!!

And yes, Akari got sent back too, they just got sent back to their respective regions! It’s something that’s supposed to be made clear later on (if this story ends up going the projected way, at least) and we have not reached that yet, so yes it’s not very clear right now. But she got sent back and is now back in the modern day, same as Ingo!

I do hope to continue this comic soon, I know we reached the goal but I’ve been unable to work on it lately because of my neck ;-; I hope I can do so again soon!

And as for my interpretations, I have many, many thoughts about Arceus. I do not intend for Arceus to be cruel (it’s actually meant to be rather the opposite, Arceus is supposed to be extremely hands-off but compassionate, not intervening but offering guidance and help. There is emotional distance and no attachment or personal sentimentality; Arceus helps in situations it’s present in where it realizes it can be helpful, but it does not seek them out. If that makes sense (Like if I see a bug drowning in my pool while I’m swimming in it, I will scoop it up and watch over it as it dries itself off until it can fly away. But I do not go out of my way to go out to my pool and search for bugs that need help every day. Best way I can describe Arceus being hands-off but compassionate).

But of course no one really knows this interpretation in my works yet yet except for me, as I have not published the works that focus on this yet. (And to be clear, this characterization would extend to this reblog comic too)

As of now, all that people have really seen from me that I can recall is that Akari has expressed worry that they will not be allowed to go back together and Ingo will have to be left behind, so she will force Arceus to let her take Ingo back with her if she must. So yes Arceus sounds cruel lol, but it’s really Akari just assuming and preparing for the worst in an unknown scenario.

More about my interpretation of Arceus below, and how it relates to my overarching narrative in my fics.

Here is a piece I’ve been sitting on for a long, long time. But again because of my neck, don’t know when I am going to finish this art. A handful of people saw this sketch last year (and it is almost a year old now which makes me sad ;-;) but it is for my overarching canon that I have built for my fics, most of it becoming relevant in works that have not been published yet. Stuff in the stained glass depictions probably do not make sense yet because of this, apologies.

BUT it is Savepoint AU. I’ve talked a little about it before but some things have changed since then. Basically as it is now, both Akari and Ingo are not from this time. The timeline is trying to clean itself out (as it does with Pokemon and things that manage to stick around after space-time distortions) and get rid of them.

Arceus brought Akari to this timeline. Arceus has made save states for Akari (think like literally saving the game), something like an instance of how she should be (healthy, unharmed) as a reference. When the timeline tries to take her out (think like when you black out in PLA after taking too many hits from wild Pokemon, drowning, falling too far, ect.), Arceus reverts her body back to a previous save point where she was healthy and unhurt. Arceus brought her here for a reason and it wants to ensure she can finish the task. It will send her back when she completes it, so the timeline stops going after her.

Ingo was not brought to this timeline by Arceus. Ingo does not have save points. Ingo does not have a promise to be sent back home when he finishes his task, as he has no task to complete. Not because Arceus doesn’t care about what happens to Ingo, but because Arceus had nothing to do with Ingo’s arrival, and Ingo has nothing to do for Arceus. Ingo is just not really on Arceus’ radar, it’s focusing on Akari.

When the timeline starts trying to take Ingo out, he does not have save instances like Akari does to fall back on. For a while, Akari just relies on Arceus sending her messages through the arc phone about when something will happen (a method that Arceus employs once Akari has made it aware that Ingo is important to her, still without intervening) so that she can help Ingo avoid these incidents and stay alive, until she can finish her appointed task and bring him back home with her (as I said before, in her words, she’s going to do it whether she’s allowed to or not. She doesn’t know Arceus’ stance on things).

But this method cannot work forever, surely. And it doesn’t. Without spoiling anything, Akari begs Arceus for another way to keep going at Ingo’s end, and in its empathy, Arceus complies.

I’m looking forward to when I can get these works out and finish this piece. I think about Savepoint AU constantly haha.

As a last thing, I’ve attached this song. Practically all of it really works with this AU and I would like to do some sort of PMV for it eventually. But there are several lines in here that connect well with Arceus’ relationship with them in this AU as well from Ingo’s POV.

You held your hand in mine And then it felt so clear That you were in the air And I think so was I - Ingo does eventually receive care and protection from Arceus, but only through Akari’s insistence that he does. He experiences what Akari has been blessed with this entire time, and the difference is noticeable.

There’s a part of us in you And I was a fool Thinking it was me - Arceus is with Akari and protecting her, but it is not with Ingo nor is it protecting him. Before Akari came along, Ingo believed he was ‘protected’ too though, somehow managing to escape this timeline cleanse fate (yes, he did know about it technically from seeing what happened to space-time distortion pokemon), but he had not; it only started late.

Something outside my vision - Arceus, in relation to Ingo. It is not there for him, it does not appear for him, and has not reached out to him like it has for Akari. But it does eventually make itself noticable to him, it’s just not made itself comprehensible to him like it has to Akari.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

dick grayson figure skating hcs

i swear i wasn’t searching for any skater specifically but what am i supposed to do, look at yuzuru hanyu and not use the pic?

ft mostly men’s singles but there’s bonus dick x reader pairs at the end

we’ve talked about dick grayson going to the olympics for gymnastics

what probably happened was the batfam got together and decided to watch the summer olympics and we got to pommel horse guy

and jason made some comment about how that guy’s basically just a better dick

and he took that personally

so of course he’s already calling up the us gymnastics team because what is the point of being bruce wayne’s son if you don’t have the most random connections ever (and they were probably already begging him to join anyways)

but 4 years is a long time to wait, so in the meantime, he decides to work on competing in the winter olympics too

and he just so happens to be a figure skating prodigy bc ofc he is (bruce signs them up for a lot of extracurriculars so all of the bat kids are weirdly good at random stuff)

ooooh this means that he’d be good at ballet too which pisses me off

he’s kinda like nathan chen in the sense that this guy is good at too many things and my asian parents would unfortunately love him

anyways! back on topic

unfortunately brian orser cannot be flown out to gotham every day (if you don’t know who he is, he is simply the goat i don’t make the rules) so dick probably has a different coach for day to day training

but he went to intensives a couple of times a year growing up

he kinda stopped when the titans and nightwing stuff got to be too much to handle but the two of them still keep in touch and brian’s like i can’t believe my star pupil is wasting his talents being a cop, why is he not on the ice

so you KNOW as soon as the olympics idea comes up dick’s calling brian up and bro sheds tears when he gets the call

he already had the routines planned out and the songs picked because he keeps on getting ideas and being like this is so dick grayson coded (with the same energy as somebody writing headcanons i imagine)

guys hear me out, fun jazzy short

like he gets the crowd to clap along and he just has the brightest smile on his face the whole time

yes i am thinking about kagiyama yuma’s song choice at the beijing olympics. and honestly his outfit too but i’m imagining dick’s is a brighter blue

and you think it’s all fun and games

AND HE PULLS OUT THE CLEANEST 3A + 1EU + 4L KNOWN TO MAN

and ofc he can do a quad axel who is surprised

lives were changed with the short 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

alsoooooo the ISU legalized backflips now and you know dick is gonna do one of those

ACTUALLY if you guys have ever seen malinin's raspberry twist

are we seeing the vision guys

i feel like he would choose something more emotional for his free (gotta get those performance points)

if nobody is bawling by the end of his program then i am dead

i selfishly want him to skate to yuri on ice (like the actual piece, although i can make a whole list of yuri on ice songs i think would suit him) but i don't know if he's a weeb like that

as a dancer, i feel like step sequences is where i'm the least impressed

he would not disappoint though, like everything's so clean? and so emotive?

i feel like he was built for the biellmann, especially the hyperextended and no i'm not taking notes

THE PRETTIEST OUTFITS EVER

if anybody wants to draw fanart of dick in yuzuru hanyu's skating costumes haha

at the end of his program he's going to point towards his family and bow to them ofc

butttttt he may or may not send a particularly smug look in jason's direction

and the wide grin that he has on his face when he's announced the winner is made even wider because he knows that jason's in the stands gnashing his teeth

bonus: fanfic idea? dick x reader pairs event where they grew up skating together

they had crushes on each other but never said anything

they get into a fight because dick wants to quit

but then a few years later he’s like haha wanna compete together?

and reader thinks he’s not taking this seriously and is still mad at him for leaving but brian’s like great! welcome back dick so obviously they’re stuck together now

and of course they have a very…interesting program (tumblr is not letting me add the link but just search up the tessa virtue and scott moir moulin rouge perfrormance)

at first it’s super awkward, dick’s like not even super sure why she’s still acting weird around him, they continue to butt heads

and it all culminates in their free, when they realize that these emotions aren’t just for performance points but actually genuine??

AND THEN THEY KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

okay that’s all!

i ended up writing it lol

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair.  You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

[anxious-witch]

I think the reason why there are so many amazing ships in Dead Boy Detectives is because the show manages to show different versions of love/lust/devotion through different relationships all characters have.

Like, love triangles have been doing the whole "a girl has to choose between two guys who each being out a different side of her" for over a decade in popular media, some more, some less successfully. But the pitfall they often fall into is that those differences seem very shallow and often ignore the other aspect of the main person who have to choose between the love interests.

Dead Boy Detectives makes sure to not do that.

When we look at how Charles is with Crystal vs how he is with Edwin, we can clearly see the difference. In the beginning of his and Crystal's dynamic, he is flirtier and puts more if a bravado, but he pretty quickly opens up to her. Because he sees that she very quickly sees past his facade he puts up with his constant happy-go-lucky persona. Only when he starts opening up to her and showing his emotions does their relationship progress. Because after David, Crystal needs someone who can be emotionally vulnerable with her and in turn, Charles offers her the same, and offers her a safe space.

In contrast, we see that Charles is more at ease around Edwin. They know each other deeply, and are also woven into each other at this point. It's easy, like breathing. One thing it doesn't do is challenge either of them from the status quo they have built over the years. But there is a sense of ease there, and such devotion. There is no question about what they would do for each other because the answer is everything.

That said, while they both bring out different sides of Charles, those sides of him feel intricately linked to one another! Which is why Crystal coming into the pictures begins changing Charles' relationship with Edwin as well! It brings to light things they have ignored. And in turn, Charles' clear and unwavering devotion and loyalty to Edwin prompts Crystal to learn it herself. To quote Jenny in ep 8, "you were about to leave and never see these boys again, but now you are going to save them"? And yes, she does exactly that.

This even has influence on Edwin and Crystal's rs directly, which I can't recall ever seeing in a love triangle before, at least not in a positive sense. But it's so clear that Charles loves both of them that the other learns to love them too, and they realize their own similarities through it, too!

As for Edwin and his many love interests, well. I know there has been a lot of debate, especially around Cat King vs Charles dyankics with Edwin, but the thing is-you are comparing apples ajd oranges here.

The Cat King is enamored, fascinated by Edwin, and yeah above all, attracted to him. This dynamic serves to challenge both of their characters' beliefs and shake up the power dynamics between them. Whenever you like the Cat King or not Edwin clearly reciprocates the attraction part, at the very least.

Charles loves Edwin and is devoted to him and Edwin to him turn, as discussed above. What is difficult about their relationship is that it became stagnant due to lack of communication, which is why they needed other relationships to shake up that dynamic.

But to address the most prominent comparison I saw, which is the Cat King saying he'll wait for Edwin vs Charles going to Hell to save him.

Both are types of devotion, is the thing. A profession of love, if you will. To this day, we consider Penelope a faithful, loving and devoted wife for waiting for Odyssey for 20 years. Cat King saying he'd wait for Edwin isn't any small confession, given he is aware it could take decades, if not more.

Don't get me wrong, Charles going to literal Hell to save Edwin and succeeding where Orpheus and Eurydice failed is an enormous success and a way to show you love someone. I am not minimalizing that at all.

I am just saying that, for who these characters are and given their rs with Edwin, they did exactly what they were supposed to. They expressed in which ways Edwin had influenced them and what they can offer him if that dynamic becomes romantic.

Cat King represents experience, patience. As an immortal he has all the time in the world to wait for Edwin to return from hell, because he believes Edwin is strong enough to return on his own.

Charles represents love that breaks all obstacles in their way. He goes to save Edwin because he believes Edwin deserves to be helped in the way he helps others. He deserves to be saved.

My point is, there is no better of worse way of loving someone. The character in the love triangle choose the person that better alignes with who they are and who they wish to be as a person. So yes, you are absolutely allowed to say "I think this character would choose person a because it alignes better with their character development" but comparing the two as one being superior is kinda pointless imo? Exploring different dynamic of a character is the goal here, right? Either through canon or fanon.

...I was gonna talk about Crystal/Niko and Edwin/Monty too but this post got away from me to uhh. Might do another one if anyone is interested but in their way! I adore the way DBDA explores different sides of characters while still making them feel like a fully rounded person and doesn't shy away from letting one rs influence other rs character has.

[romanoffsbish]

I’m Fine 🙂 / Save Me 🙃

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Familial / Sisters)

Warnings: Angst w/Bittersweet Ending | Reader Dies | Black Widow / Red Room Canon | Addiction | “Cry for Help”

All she had left was the memory of you. | WC: 1,512

"Do you ever feel like you're all alone in this world?"

Natasha looked up from her laptop quick. "What?"

"Like, no matter how hard you try, no one will ever love or regard you in the same way you do them?"

——

Natasha tried to approach you gently, "Y/N." Yet she wasn't quick enough as you jumped back. "Shut up."

There was a fire in your eyes she hardly recognized, and she took a step back. Looking in your eyes hurt, because you were not the same little girl who used to pick flowers from the garden just for her hair and part of her took blame for that. "Don't try and pretend like you do." If you were a wine you'd be the most bitter. "I don't know why you even keep me around Natasha."

The redhead scoffed bitterly, "because I love you!" It stung to feel the burden in her words—you're hurting yourself just to spite her, but she hurt you first and with the way your mind was racing this made sense.

"Or is it because you feel guilty?" You countered, and hit it on the head as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

Crushing her the same way she did you the day she left you behind, in a place built to destroy a dreamer like you, in the hands of a man set out to punish you for the mistakes of the woman you loved the most. Ouch.

"Do you think the world would miss me if I vanished?"

"Of cou—." You mindlessly cut her off, words tinged with vitriol, "Of course not. You're the one they'd hold the candlelight vigils for, you'll be on a mural and I'd be the one the stray cats would miss, because just like them I know what it's like to truly have no place."

"Have you been smoking pot?" It reeked the longer she stood closer to you. Then you all but confirmed it as you grew defensive. "Is that all you can ask Natasha?"

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Answer the question."

"Yes," you monotoned, "what does that change?"

"Everything." You grew rather frustrated, "but how?"

“You’re not making any sense,” she tried to reason but you laughed incredulously, “this is the first time in my entire life that I am making complete sense, Natalia.”

"I don't like it when you're like this, sestra."

"I'm always like this." Natasha sighed, "yeah..."

"Yeah?" Natasha nodded shamefully and you couldn't stop the sob from breaking. She hated you.

"Then I won't be anything to you, anymore."

Natasha shot up in a cold sweat, her wife beater tank top sticking to her skin, the words of your last fight still ringing in her head; a cry for help and she was useless.

"Fuck," she hiccuped, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed alongside the sky just outside the window. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to force the pity she felt for herself away, the grief...

There were so many things she could have said; done.

I don't understand, but I want to; talk to me...

Had she ran after you, would it be different now?

Could've grabbed you by the arm. Don't go. Stay.

I love you more than you could ever know.

Instead she scoffed, 'at least I can finish my paperwork now,' and let you storm out the door without noticing the keys to her brand new jet black Porsche were gone.

Yelena still won't return her calls. Melina and Alexei are beside themselves in a grief harsher than her own. Though she internally wagers that her loss was the greatest, because you were her little widow first...

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

"Natty?" the blue haired girl looked at you with a wide grin, the innocence of the nickname you gave her was endearing and in the same breath, twisted. It was clear to her you didn't remember much of the before. You were four years her junior, so similar to Yelena, this life was honestly all you'd known. "Da, malen'kiy pauk?"

Natasha laughed just as soon as you giggled. It brought her joy to know, that for a while, you could be free of the harsh shackles that awaited you all back home.

"A little girl at school today told me about how in her family, when a person goes away, that they can become something else when they visit." Natasha nearly lost the joy on her face as you curiously approached death. In her mind the hope you held onto was futile, that when you shoot someone between the eyes, they are as good as gone, but she could never destroy you like that.

Instead, she gave life to your wonder, "What would you want to be then, a kitty?" You shook your head and blurted your answer easily, "malen'kiy pauk." The gaps in your teeth only made your smile more endearing, and the redhead opened her arms to you. You launched yourself into your sister's arms and gripped her tight.

"Then I could visit you," you mumbled against her shirt and the natural redhead tensed. The idea of you no longer existing felt unpleasant—her walls crumbled the moment you and Yelena entered her life but this was the first time she'd felt anything excruciating.

"Moya malen'kiy pauk," she chuckled softly so as to not cry instead, she placed a kiss to your cheek then hoped your childlike attention span would change the tune.

Then a familiar jingle sounded and you were scrambling into the house, shrieking for your mom.

Natasha shook her head and walked to the old man who knowingly parked out front of your house. He handed the redhead three ice creams, and a disk.

—————

You stood next to Natasha in the line for lunch, which was just a tasteless tray variety of essential nutrients. It was rule of thumb not to talk in line, but you were never one to follow the rules, and neither was Natasha.

"Are you scared of death?" Natasha frowned. "What?"

"I think a healthy fear for the end is fair, but I'm not losing sleep over the concept. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm honestly not," you shrugged, stance indifferent but Natasha unfortunately believed you as you went on to say, "just wondering if I'm alone."

"Never with us," Yelena chimed in. "Death is an inevitability, just a matter of the when and how."

It wasn't hard to see to the fear in the blonde's eyes as she kept up her indifferent demeanor. Deep down, Natasha knew she was still that little girl from Ohio, who up until recently called fireflies, forest stars.

—

"I can't believe it," your tone clipped, the warmth you used to greet her with was gone. "I'll be back," she lied without realizing, but you could see it clearly. "Izhets."

(Liar)

"Y/N, I am going to end it once and for all," she hoped you could see the bigger picture, a promised freedom.

"Tozhe tupoy," you chuckled humorlessly. "There is no end, just more opportunities to build up defense."

(Dumb too)

Natasha fell for the American's words of ignorance.

"I love you," she said with certainty before she was one with the shadows, the last piece of your hope gone as it'd been years since you last caught sight of Lena.

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

A loud cry outside the purposely cracked window pulled her from her bittersweet thoughts of you...

Natasha stood beneath the tarp of your balcony, eyes downcast on a gorgeous white cat, paws soiled by the mud she trudged through with her three kittens. The redhead set a plate of food down for her then settled down beside her, towel in hand as she dried her babies.

The light of the moon cast over the kittens, reflecting off their varied fur patterns. A black one meowed, calling to her first among the litter, he hissed softly at the unfamiliar lift but settled fast as she began to dry his fur, pulling off grime and putting him to sleep.

The same occurred with the next boy cat, who was a gorgeous shade of gray, with faint swirls of orange.

Lastly, the smallest of the three, a gorgeous blend of white, brown and orange. She was the most vocal.

A grateful purr came from the mama cat when the redhead moved on to her paws, her eyes fluttered open at the unexpected contact, and when Natasha lifted her own gaze she gasped. With the light now on her face the color of her eyes was clear, a tear streamed down Nat's face without warning. The color and deep feeling of understanding behind them were just so, you.

"Oh my," a subdued laugh left her as she caught sight of something else, she scooped the feline into her lap, and placed a finger on her wet, pink nose in waiting. The blur of black transferred right on over and the woman smiled truly for the first time in eight months. "Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, moy malen'kiy pauk."

(Welcome home, my little spider)