#i do also think though that the way it was promoted didn't do him any favors and it probably could have done better commercially under

[taradactyls]

I think the one I see this most strongly with is Pamela; Or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson.

It's hard to read in the modern day. Pamela is a servant girl who spends a lot of time trying not to be raped by her employer, who eventually kidnaps her, and the only other woman in a position to aid her actively helps the attempted rapist to assault her in various ways. At one point she holds Pamela down in bed so it can happen (apparently the woman is this awful because she's an atheist). At another time the employer actively says that he would've continued and actually raped her if she kept fighting him, it was only because Pamela fainted that he stopped the attempt. She woke up from that attempt with her stays (underwear) cut up.

Pamela ends up marrying this man, after realising she has fallen in love with him, who is then 'reformed' by her 'goodness.'

It's meant to be a happy and uplifting tale. Obviously, to us, it's more of a horror story.

We see the victim blame in 'if you'd kept fighting you would've been raped' and also know that being unconscious actually makes you more at risk, and understand that a woman who eventually gave in to her master's advances is not any less 'good' for fearing being violently raped (or worse) if she continued protesting. We are less likely to believe people can be so entirely reformed by the 'virtue' of others, and see a man who would take advantage of power dynamics like that as bad even if he wasn't so aggressive in his advances. There are no real consequences for his crimes and continued harassment of a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD in his employ and who had zero protection or options. It's just all round horrid to our modern eyes.

But in many ways it was actually progressive for the time.

Pamela is a servant who ends the book married (not mistress to) a gentleman with an estate and eventually being accepted and adored by the land owning class. This is a rise of a magnitude far higher than Elizabeth marrying Mr Darcy, Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester, or even Cinderella as she was highborn, and was really making the case that servant women could and do have as much inherent worth as gentlewomen by birth. For how classist 1740 England was, that's a controversial take.

And though it's considered a backwards view now, this was the first novel/work which was really reaching out to lower-class women and saying 'your virtue is worth as much as upper-class women.' I dislike the whole concept of sexual virtue and disagree that Pamela's virtue would be lost through rape, but the point remains that this book was making a case for greater equality between classes in a time where the ruling class relied on being considered naturally better by birth and chosen by god to rule. The novel was criticised for exactly this.

Not only that, but by promoting virginity, he was also championing a woman's right to say no. Pamela's ability and decision to refuse is upheld both positively and as what should have been the final word. The male main character only becomes a 'good' person once he truly understands and respects that. An idea only becomes outdated once the societal framework supporting the status quo has changed, and Samuel Richardson was writing in a time where a servant girl (or any woman really, for instance marital rape wouldn't become a crime for another 250 years) who refused her master's advances would have little recourse or sympathy if he didn't respect that no. This novel was telling all those girls your sexual autonomy is worth fighting for... you're worth fighting for.

And, though we see that Pamela's abuser essentially gets what he wanted and gets off scot-free (an illness and a change of heart isn't going to fly with a judge, you douche), it was revolutionary for the time in that it's told from the victim's perspective as a horrible series of events. These acts, many of which were common place and not illegal (some even actively considered romantic) at the time, was a criticism of many masculine behaviours and championed the woman's/victim's perspective. It drew attention to what we now consider domestic violence and abuse of power. Though we might argue about his methods (a minority of contemporary readers viewed the novel as salacious because of the inclusion of the assault scenes) the author's intent was to actively give moral instruction into proper domestic behaviour. Which, aside from 'sexually assaulting your employees is bad' does also include less radical and actively harmful views such as 'be loyal and loving to your employers no matter what.' Historical novels are a mixed bag like that, but he was still advocating for mutual social contracts towards each other, and rejecting the idea that the rich men who ruled the world could do whatever they wanted. He was speaking for the powerless against those in power.

I'll probably never read the book again, it was too uncomfortable for me, but without an understanding of the time it was written it would feel like gratuitous assault and a glorification of abusive relationships, when really, it was the exact opposite. We're just lucky enough to live in a society where many of his arguments have been accepted both socially and legally for so long that it's hard to imagine a case ever needed to be made in their favour.

tbh nothing frustrates me more then when people brush off classics like pride and prejudice or jane eyre because they don’t fit into today’s modern standards of feminism and social justice etc.

remember that these novels were published in the 19th century. and that some of the things that were written in these books may seem trivial to us today but would have absolutely fucking shook readers in the victorian era

like,,,,,elizabeth rejecting mr collins because she doesn’t love him even though it would have been considered her duty in her family to marry him? or jane eyre not agreeing to marry mr rochester unless it was on her own terms? hell even anne brontë wrote a lesser known novel about a wife leaving her abusive husband with her five year old son to live a better life?? do y’all realize how unheard of that would be in the 1800′s?? where women were considered more of a commodity than actual human beings??

even though they might not be up to todays standards of modern feminism and romance, they were still HUGE building blocks for equality for that time period. so if you’re a reader who says to themselves ‘I read classics with modern standards applied and I can’t get past that’ then you are most likely going to be disappointed when reading classics and not fully understand their significance to that time period 

[alexanderwales]

The second chapter of Save the Cat! is about genre, titled "Give me the same thing ... only different!". The general principle is one that I strongly agree with, even if I don't always practice it in my writing: you must know how and why things work in fiction, you must be a student of the realms you're writing in, you must give your own twists on clichés if you think you might be writing them, and must be familiar with clichés so that you don't end up boring people. Study things that are like the thing you're trying to create. Analyze them, take them apart, understand how they work or don't work.

But then a lot of the chapter is taken up with Snyder's own system of ten genres, and when I was reading it I wanted to just stop him and say "hey, what the fuck, did you even watch that movie?"

Also I laughed for like five minutes at him putting Schindler's List in the "Dude with a Problem" genre, even though I agree that according to his typology it completely fits.

I'm a huge fan of making up arbitrary categories and then stuffing things into them. I don't think it's often very useful, no, but it's fun, and when you're done shoving things into boxes, you can pull them back out, find a new set of boxes, and repeat the process. I'm not going to repeat Snyder's categories here, but I think they kind of suck, and don't accurately reflect genre as we understand them, and the whole thing would have been better off is it was taking story archetypes and saying why they work and then what the usual deviations from them were.

Here are two examples that I take issue with, among others. First, by his accounting Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is a "Golden Fleece" movie, the kind of film centered around a hero's journey where what he ends up finding is, ultimately, himself, and every set piece along the way is important only in the way it relates to the hero's self-acceptance or whatever.

No. Wrong. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is very very clearly a "Buddy Love" under this system. Look at this fucking image:

Could this DVD cover make this any more obvious? Literally all the promotional material is like this. It even says in the book that most "Buddy Love" movies start with the "buddies" disliking each other, and that their relationship is central to the movie. And if Snyder is getting this wrong, what else is he getting wrong about his own system?

Example two. I'm just going to quote it in full:

Now look at The Matrix and compare and contrast it with the Disney/Pixar hit Monsters, Inc. Yup. Same movie.

Fucking what do you mean.

Under this system of genres, Monsters, Inc. is very clearly another "Buddy Love" movie. There's a kid they have to deal with, but most of the movie is grounded in the relationship between Mike and Sulley. Like, what's the low point of the whole movie? They get banished to the Himalayas and then have a big fight! It's about their relationship to each other!

(I looked this up on the savethecat website and found an article claiming that it's an example of "Monster in the House", which is fucking stupid, because what's the monster and what's the house? Just does not apply. The child is takes the role of the "monster" for such a small amount of the movie, then they're looking after her and trying to return her home, and even before that it's not relatable as a monster to the audience. Blake Snyder didn't write the article, so maybe he had something different in mind.)

Meanwhile, The Matrix most closely falls into either "Dude with a Problem" (ordinary man thrust into extraordinary circumstances) or "Superhero" (extraordinary man in ordinary circumstances) and I would argue that it's actually neither of those because it's a goddamned hero's journey and those are their own thing and it makes no sense to try to split them into two parts because you don't get more explanatory power of what's working and what's not. His analysis of what he calls "Superhero" films also sucks for that reason and just totally misses the mark about what makes them tick.

So how are these the same movie? I don't know, it probably made sense to Blake Snyder. I have done my due diligence and searched for answers online, but haven't found much, just some weak ass defenses.

Also, I really hated that he says Chinatown and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are basically the same movie because no shit. Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is a parody of noir, and was adapted from the script for a never-produced third film in what was supposed to be a Chinatown trilogy. But even then, I don't get how you can say they're the same movie without pointing out the strong "Buddy Love" through line in Roger Rabbit!

This whole chapter was a total miss for me. Decent advice at the start that I've been hearing and preaching for a long time, but this typology sucks and he doesn't even seem to understand it (or the movies he's putting in it) very well. And since the typology sucks, it's a bad lens for understanding the underlying rules of writing, of story structure, the components of story, etc.

[dnpbeats]

it's very unsurprising to me that dan lost money on WAD bc tours in general are a huge money sink, let alone ones with a big production value like wad is. like if it was just a one man show with cool lights that would be one thing but dan must have had a decently sized crew which costs a lot (without even mentioning transportation oh my god, having a big set was very much a choice he made while being aware that it would impact his bottom line). being fully honest i think he was at best hoping to break even but expecting to lose money

hi anon sorry that i've been letting this rot for so long u sent it right before the tit leak and then it got lost in my inbox 😭💀 yes i totally agree he was expecting to lose money, the way he's talked about it i think it's clear it was a passion project before anything else

[starlight-45]

Dating BLLK boys in school! (Part 2)

Featuring:- Hyoma Chigiri, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi (Part 1 here with Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Rin Itoshi and here's the masterlist )

A/n: again, don't know where this shit is set. It has their current personalities and they're still in blue lock. Maybe taking a break in off-season and go to school for a change. Idk.

~Hyoma Chigiri~

•Is pretty nonchalant about the whole thing actually he is about most things but gives in easily much to your suprise. he's unpredictable like that.

• To him school was just a place to showcase his talent on a low level before moving on to the bigger stage.

• Kinda really didn't have that many friends, despite being popular as hell because of his looks and talent.

• 'Cause no one really couldn't kept up with his actual sass and sharp personality. Well expect for you now, darling! Don't expect him to admit it though, you'll get only an eye roll out of him.

• But geuninely like there are situations where he has to reject like 5 people at once. 😭 You don't whether to be impressed or annoyed by it.

• Anyway.

• If Chirgiri isn't in class, you can find him in the library. Before you try to fight me, lemme remind it's in the egoist Bible so it's canon.

• He will binge read history novels honestly, and thinks in his free time how it could have been different and stuff. He thinks about the fall of the Roman Empire at least once a day.

• Won't ramble or blabble about it too much to you, but will share random titbits to you about, at the most random times.

• No seriously. At the most random times.

"Ugh trigonometry is the worst-"

"Christianity promotion must have resulted in loss of traditional values of Romans..."

"Huh?"

"You asked to study right?"

"YES. To study maths. Tommorow is the test!"

"...Oh."

• Also he's got a fair amount of complaints from teachers and other coordinators about his long hair. When they speak to him about it, he's judging then SO hard. He does it to almost everyone.

• If you blabble about your classmates stories, he will listen to it, asking questions actively. He actually is pretty interested in the gossipy stuff.

• Can I just rant about how much of a tease he is in denying you affection? Like don't get me wrong, of course Chigiri's gonna have some sort of physical contact like holding hands and stuff in front of other students.

• To show you guys are together and no he's not entertaining any confessions, that's what he tells you to just not get annoying interactions but you both know it's just not that lol

• But when you two do mange to get alone on campus, this guy is a cheeky little bastard. He intentionally leans a bit far than you, just to rile you up and make the first move.

"What? Why are you glaring at me, huh? I didn't do anything you know."

• By the way, this kind of situation doesn't really happen often. Only in school when alone. Still to this day you don't know why he gets like that during that specific time.

• You guessed it's maybe because he rarely can keep his hands off you in private, so this environment keeps him a but grounded and can act all cool. You saw right through it, but that's different story.

• Doesn't care what people think of him, rude, moody, arrogent hell even princess...because like whatever. But won't torelate any negetive comments about you.

• His demeanor doesn't change much, but his glare speaks for itself that the person currently should shut up if they know what's good for them.

• Because, despite all the ups and downs our princess truly loves you and will want the best for you. Amen.

~Mikage Reo~

• I'm guessing you already has a pretty good grasp at what to expect from him, huh?

• We all know, that while on the surface his school life is perfect with good grades, popularity, football...he gets really really bored there.

• But I think as his girlfriend, it's your job to not get him excited. And guess what? You're doing a great job at it!

• This guy is the type, that when in a relationship, you can talk on and on about golf most boring sport ever! and he will listen like it's the most interesting thing ever.

• So yeah... it's not really all that hard for ya to keep him busy lol. Others have a hard time to do so though.

• Though he gave up on studies since blue lock, he figured that it won't hurt to study a bit for a few months to keep up his reputation.

• And to impress you, but shh don't let him know I told ya. But yeah, when talking about studies he's more of a hard work type rather than being a natural. I'm looking at you, Nagi!

• Which is a blessing for you because you can literally just call him over whenever you wanna study. And like ACTUALLY study, he's the best at tutoring, teaching you everything patiently.

• I mean he was the best friend was Nagi. OF COURSE Reo gained a lot of patience from being around that baby.

• Still entertains the fan following he quickly gained at school I mean what did you expect? but not really too much like before.

• Kinda because of still having PTSD from blue lock. You know the the haunting feeling no matter what he does there are things he won't get. Yeah that's what he's afraid of deep down.

• And not just that, also because of you. He knows people can get a too overboard with the fangirling which might make you uncomfortable. So sweet! 😭

• Proudly shows you off as his, and damn he does get a bit of a smug look which is priceless to see. It's a good reminder for him that no matter what happens, you're always his side.

• Which suprisingly makes everyone immediately back off, because like it's just so evident that this guy is just too hooked up on you to even glance at their direction.

• Will actually bribe the school authorities to get you in his class, and will deny any accusations made against him by you about that matter you JUST asked him casually but y'know this guy is dramatic as hell.

• "Why would I do that? You think that I'm the kind of rich person to throw money away just to get my way?"

"I love you Reo but that's exactly what you are."

• Always has an arm around you, suprising you during lunch break, pulling your cheeks even in front of everyone...you're just that cute!

• Is the type to distract you during class, then giggle when you get called out by the teacher for not paying attention. :P

• Don't worry much though, Reo doesn't do it that often, he knows his limits, despite being tempted to do more just to have your attention and your adorable mad face.

• Damnit, you're still just too cute for him to resist having you with him. He truly is blessed.

~Nagi Seishiro~

• Okay so, I think this scenario can go two ways, depending on what time you ask him and what mood he is in.

• 1. Nagi would just say "It's such a hassle" and drop his head on your lap, not wanting to think much but will relent with a bit of convincing because again, he doesn't wanna use his brain much.

• 2. Would just say okay on your first attempt, not seeing any reason to refuse. As you can see, both of these scenarios end up getting him back in school for a few months.

• We all know he's the type to just sleep and play games in class and get scolded by the teacher because of it.

• Lord knows how this guy manages to top every single time because I don't.

• "Hey Seishiro what did you get?"

"..98.."

"I just can't believe it, how do you do it every single time?!"

"I don't believe it either." said the teacher unamused, arranging the papers.

• You also feel lowkey jealous because of it, like can study for hours and hours and still get less than him I don't know about you ma'am but I would have given up a long time ago on academics.

• However, it has it's merits as well. He doesn't study but hangs around you when you do in the library or his apartment and sometimes kind of helps you understand stuff.

• "God this question is so stupid."

"...Hm? It's so easy..."

"Oh really? Why don't you tell me how to do it?"

"... don't convert the tan A into sin A/cosA, because it won't get divided on the final step..."

"Wow it worked, thank you!"

"... don't mention it."

• If you can't find him during lunch, you can find him in teacher's cabin getting scolded or sleeping/playing games on the stairs.

• And in extreme cases, on the water tank of the rooftop how the hell did does he get there?? basically everywhere expect the classroom, eating his lunch, y'know like a normal person in lunch break.

• So it's your duty to drag him to have lunch so to make sure he doesn't die. No I'm not exaggerating, this guy can be starving to death but still be playing call of duty.

• This guy is shameless around you, and the worst part that you can't even say anything about it because it's not his intention to annoy you. He is just is build different.

• Like, he'd just lean over your shoulder as you drag him to class you still won't give him the piggyback ride. Poor boy not really regardless of people giving him and you judgemental stares.

• On the rare days when he's not sleeping in class, he's still not paying any attention to the teacher. Yeah all the teachers hate him.

• Instead his focus is all on you, observing how you are trying your best to pay attention to whatever the hell the teacher's trying to explain, suprisingly intrigued.

• He doesn't know why but, he's not bored while doing even though he's just looking at you . This guy is just attracted to you so damn much.

• And his smol energy level won't allow him to fight that attraction either. However Nagi doesn't dislike that fact. He loves the attraction and you, even if he didn't realise it yet.

A/n: I think the quality is dipped in this one, I kind of rushed it. I apologise for it. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[lemotmo]

Some of them clearly got the point of Tim's call-out.

Q. What did you make of Tim's interview? I realize the bulk was Lonestar but the fandom stuff was interestingly phrased. The fact that so many people involved with the show, and now the showrunner himself, are openly discussing how bad things are cannot be a good sign. I know we had some fans who were saying we could 'bully' Tim and the show into giving us more Tommy but I think that was a massive mistake in hindsight. I think certain people got carried away and went way too far. Weather their intentions were ever bad or not I just think some people took the bullying idea too far. I'm a little worried we may not see Tommy at all now.

A. The bullying idea was always going to be a massive mistake. Normally you can take Tim's interviews with a bit of 'lol, why is he so dramatic' because he's not immune to getting his feelings hurt, and using his interviews to tell people that. In this case though it was definitely a direct callout. I have been here from the beginning and the show has never experienced anything close to what they have experienced this off-season. It's one thing to root for a particular show ship it's another thing entirely to openly send, and openly encourage others, to send hate to the cast and creators of a show. Then those same fans dragged the lighting director, director of photography, show directors and professional media members who have covered the show for years into their bullying game as well. It was insane, pathetically immature behavior. At times it was also incredibly disturbing. And every single bit of it can be traced back to the cameo videos. The second the storyline they were paying to be told didn't match the storyline we were actually watching they revolted.

And unfortunately because I think Tim, and ABC, just didn't think they were anything worth paying attention to initially, he was allowed to do them way too long. The more he did the more obsessed with him that particular group of people became. This has nothing to do with 911. Those people aren't at all interested in 911. Their entire interest is Lou and Lou alone. It's a small group of people. A small sick group of people who created a bunch of separate accounts in order to appear to be more people than they actually are (and they were stupid enough to openly admit that is what they did). Then that small group of people got together and from every single one of their many accounts they attacked as a group. They started with Oliver. They pointed out that Oliver wasn't interacting with Lou or engaging with any of them, or B/T content, and decided, at least initially, that he was solely to blame for B/T not getting the attention they thought it deserved, again the Buck part they don't care about. They were upset that they weren't seeing more of Tommy and they blamed Oliver for that. Suddenly Oliver was being tagged in posts that were calling him unprofessional, immature, bratty, selfish, and because of course, homophobic (they're really not a bright group of people). However instead of taking their bait and engaging with them, Oliver, rightly, blocked them. Meaning they needed a new target. Briefly it became Tim because their moronic leader screenshot a message she sent him that he, stupidly, responded to. She took that and spun and ENTIRE relationship theory and spread it through her many accounts. Tim then admitted in another comment that he actually didn't know what she was talking about but didn't want to be rude by continuing to ignore her so he responded to her. He then said that was a mistake and he wouldn't be responding to anything else. And he hasn't (she should be very embarrassed by his interview today because he may as well have used her name). And the show also continued to not align with her/their theory and they got more upset. Then found a new target.

Throughout the season Oliver did what Oliver has always done. Oliver posted, liked and promoted Eddie/Buddie/Buckley Diaz family content. He has always done this. This was nothing new. But it infuriated Lou's fans and they turned their anger on Ryan. Suddenly Eddie was the worst character in the history of television. He was an abuser (to Buck especially), he was a user (of Buck especially). He was a terrible friend (to Buck especially). Depending on the day he was either a deadbeat dad or obsessed with his kid in an unhealthy way (they couldn't ever really decide which way to go on this one. That opinion was dependent on how the poster felt about Chris). When that attack didn't really get the attention they were begging for, they changed direction and made it personal. Post after post, that Ryan was always tagged in, calling him racist, a deadbeat dad, an asshole, unprofessional, manipulative and controlling of Oliver (wtf, god they really are a stupid group of people), a whore (I actually read that one myself, it was a trip), a terrible actor that only has a job because Tim thinks he's hot. And so on and so on. At first Tommy didn't kiss Eddie because Ryan is homophobic and refused to do the storyline, then Tim, very publicly, corrected that lie so Lou's fans had to pivot and said Lou actually refused to do the Eddie storyline because he knows Ryan isn't a good guy ( a special kind of crazy that makes me need to drink ). Then they sunk to their sickest, lowest, most pathetic, vile, disturbing, and inexcusable moment. Ryan did a podcast where he discussed his past mental health struggles and suicidal thoughts. They went into the comments on the podcast and told Ryan that they wish he had committed suicide. That if he had killed himself then Tommy could have his screen time and they wouldn't have to see Buck have scenes with Eddie. Not only did they leave those comments (the podcast has since deleted most of them, thankfully), they sent similar messages directly to Ryan on Instagram. Knowing he would see them. It was appalling and very, very disturbing. The cameo videos ended fairly shortly after. These people are sick. They get zero sympathy or understanding from me. It's a fucking television show. Tommy is not a real person. Ryan is a real person.

As for maybe not seeing Tommy at all, I would imagine conversations have certainly taken place. He was never sticking around permanently. The conversations most likely involved deciding if they needed him at all, and if they did, how many actual scenes did they need him for. I don't work on the show, but if they decided he wasn't necessary to the storyline, and they could get away with his stuff happening off screen I would imagine he's been dismissed. They probably decided they needed him at least for a few scenes though. Unless other things happened behind the scenes we're not aware of he will be around the first few episodes at least and then and probably no more. He can take his tiny army with him when he leaves. No one will miss them.

Okay, just ... yeah, all of this. It's crazy how these people did all of these horrible things in the name of... a ship? I mean, what?

I've been in fandom for a very long time and I have been shipping characters for a very long time, but I've never seen behaviour like this. Behaviour where people think they are justified to bully, harass and vilify the actors playing a character on a TV-show. To the point where they get blocked by the actors and crew.

I don't understand what would drive someone to do that? I genuinly don't.

These are the kind of people that need to put down their phones forever, go outside and touch all the grass they can touch. After that they should never watch 911 again. If you don't like something, just walk away. I have done that before. Shows don't always go where a fan wants it to go.

Look. I want Buddie. You all know that. I'm 99% certain that we're getting Buddie in season 8. But, if it turns out we won't, which is always a possibility since I don't know what Tim is cooking up, I will be disappointed, but I won't start spewing hatred all over the place. I will just take a step back and focus on other things in life. I'll keep shipping Buddie and read fanfiction. I'll be fine here in my Buddie corner of the Internet with my Buddie mutuals.

So yeah, this is insane behaviour to me. I truly don't get it.

Thanks Nonny for dropping this in my inbox!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting these anon OP updates instead of reblogging. Don't get mad at me. There is a reason for it and it's all done with consent from the OP. You can find out more about that here.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART ONE)

Here it is! The first chapter of my new Oscar Piastri friends to lovers series! The series will be containing a lot of smut, but will also contain fluff, angst and more!❤️ I will try to post part 2 as soon as possible! Please let me know in the comments what you think, and also let me know if you have any ideas that I could maybe implement!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 3,5K ↳ parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

↳chapter warnings: bestfriend!reader, eventual friends to lovers, best friends who are secretly in love with eachother, sexual content (no actual sex in this chapter yet), sexual tension, sexual thoughts, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni), oscar just getting turned on, little bit of fluff, brother's teammate trope (reader is lando's sister)

"Excited for your first day?" you heard your brother Lando say as the both of you were on your way to the track.

Your brother was referring to your first day as a physio for McLaren. For the last year you've worked as an assistant in the medical team, but since you recently graduated your physio degree, your boss offered you a promotion. Oscar's physio was leaving and they quickly needed someone else to fulfill the job, which you seemed the ideal candidate for. One of the reasons behind that being that you and Oscar already knew each other very well, which meant he didn't have to go through the whole process of getting to know his new physiotherapist, which your boss thought to be ideal.

You turned around and smiled at him "Yes, very much so" you replied honestly, raking your hand through your hair out of habit.

Initially, you were hesitant about accepting the job offer, as it involved a lot of physical contact with Oscar, such as massages. Your concern wasn’t about your own comfort, but whether Oscar would be okay with it. However, Oscar assured you that he preferred you over a stranger, trusting you completely. Given your naturally touchy friendship, both of you agreed that it wouldn’t be awkward at all.

As the both of you approached the entrance door of the hospitality. Lando looks at you one more time "I think you'll do a good job, baby sis. I believe in you" he says as he pulls you in for a hug "I gotta go now tho, Jon is waiting for me"

You smile back at him "Tell Jon that I said hi!" you called after him as Lando casually strolled away.

"Will do" you heard him calling from the distance

A smile crept up on your face as the enthousiasm of your new job poisition dawned on you. Here you were, in the McLaren hospitality in Bahrein. You have worked with McLaren for a year already, but now that you're here, actually doing the job that you worked so hard for, made you feel kind of proud.

----- 30 minutes later -----

As you enter Oscar's driving room, the familiar scent of Oscar's perfume fills your nostrils, feeling a sense of calmness washing over you. Oscar always had that effect on you. If you were honest with yourself, you have had a bit of crush on Oscar for a while now. He made you feel safe, you could always have a good laugh and not to forget, he was very good sight for sore eyes.

You did decide to not act on it for multiple reasons, though. First of all you were pretty sure you were not even his type. Second, he is your brother's teammate, so even if he felt the same, you don't think Lando would appreciate it all that much. And last, but certainly not least. You were closer colleagues now and it would probably be not done in your position. That's mostly why you decided to just suppress your feelings and accept your relationship with each other as purely friendly. He is your best friend after all, which you were really thankful for.

The feelings you were experiencing for Oscar weren't any reason for you to doubt taking the job. You were confident that the amount of physical contact involved with Oscar in this new position, wouldn't stir any emotions. After all, you frequently massaged friends during their appointments without it affecting you, so you were certain it wouldn't be an issue now. But, oh, how wrong you were...

As you walked in, you saw Oscar turn in his seat, a wide grin spreading across his face "Hey stranger" he said calmy as he walked over to you, to envelop you in a warm hug "Long time no see"

You sigh and relax into the hug "Way too long" you replied, smiling into his shoulder "How was your time off? Did you do anything interesting?" you asked him as you pulled back from the hug, taking a seat on the bench behind you.

"I had a good time! Went to visit my family and took some time to relax. But I'm also glad to be on track" he said, his voice laced with happiness "How about you?" he asked.

While you were explaining your experiences, Oscar took his time to look at you. His best friend standing in front of him. Beautiful as always, he also noticed you got tanned over the break. Your eyes now seeming brighter and more beautiful in contrast with your skin tone.

"Well, Lando and I went on a holiday to Indonesia with our parents and other siblings. So that was pretty fun! But i missed being on track as well. And you of course!" you said, ending with a giggle as you said the last part.

You chatted easily, catching up on everything they went through. As well as the upcoming season and what you were expecting. After a while, you glanced at the watch around your wrist and then back at the boy in front of you "Alright, so let's talk business" you laughed "As your new physio, i of course need to know if there are any specific things you prefer during your massages and treatments. Are there any muscle groups that have been giving you trouble?"

Oscar scratched his head as he thought about your question "Well, my lower back has been a bit tight lately, as well as my shoulders too, especially after long training sessions. I usually like firm pressure, but not too hard, if that makes sense"

"Got it" you nodded, making a mental note "What about any areas that are particularly sensitive? or maybe areas that need some extra attention"

Oscar was very glad that you were his new physiotherapist. He trusted you and knew you very well. It was a relief really, that he didn't have to get to know anyone new.

"Well, after a race, my thighs are prone to feel very sore. So I always seem to benefit from a massage after the race" Oscar said, looking around the room a little.

"Sounds good! Maybe we could start today with a massage, to get you a little relaxed before FP1 this afternoon" you told him, your tone professional as well as very friendly "And then afterwards we can make a plan for the next sessions, training wise"

"Sounds perfect" Oscar smiled at you, his confidence in you evident "I'm really glad you're here, y/n. It feels good to have you here, it feels comfortable. They couldn't have chosen a better person for the job"

A smile crept on your face as you looked at your best friend "I still have to prove that part, Osc" you laughed "Maybe I suck at massaging, you don't know yet!"

Oscar let out a laugh and rolled his eyes "I highly doubt that"

You giggled and looked at Oscar again "But for real, I'm also glad I'm here. It feels safe and trusted"

-------

It was already time for lunch break and Lando, Oscar and Jon were currently sitting at a table in the hospitality, while you were finishing up some tasks before you were gonna eventually join them.

It was Jon who spoke up, after swallowing a bite of his pasta "You know, I was surprised when I heard that your sister took the offer for the job"

Lando raised his eyebrow, looking at Jon questioning "Why?" he wondered.

"Well" Jon started, directing his gaze to the Australian across from him "To be fair, I was convinced Oscar and Y/n had a little thing going on, or at least it seemed like you guys are very much attracted to each other. You know, all those shared glances and inside jokes—it's pretty obvious"

Jon explained that the unspoken attraction between Oscar and Lando's sister could have influenced her decision not to take the job. She might have considered the potential complications it could introduce to their budding personal connection, opting instead to maintain a professional distance to preserve whatever was developing between them outside of work.

As the words left Jon's mouth Oscar's eyed widened and he turned as red as a beet, all while Lando choked on his water "You thought what, mate?" lando coughed out.

"Me and Y/n?" Oscar questioned, trying to hide his nerves and pretend he's not severely blushing, feeling caught in the act.

"Come on, mate. It's obvious. Have you seen the way she looks at him? Even a blind person could see that" he states, looking at Oscar again with a laugh "And you're way too obvious as well, Piastri"

"I.. uh" Oscar stammered, feeling nervous and flustered

Oscar looks down at the table, feeling the blush on his cheeks spread all the way to his neck. He couldn't deny that he always has felt a certain attraction towards you. You were definitely his type, and when he thought about it. He could definitely see himself dating you.

Before, he hadn't really given it much thought; after all, in his mind, you were off-limits anyway, being Lando's sister. However, ever since you took the job offer, he found his thoughts drifting towards you way more often. At first he didn't think much of it, he was mostly just very excited about the fact that he could spend more time with his best friend. Initially, he hadn't thought too much of it, just excited about the prospect of spending more time with his best friend. But as the first day of working together drew nearer, he began to dwell on it more, realizing that it stirred emotions within him. He couldn't quite pinpoint when it had started, his feelings for you. But it was that moment that he realized it.

He found himself replaying your interactions in his mind on a daily basis: the way you would smile at him from across the room, your eyes sparkling with amusement at his jokes; the times you stayed late in his hotelroom after races, sharing stories and aspirations over takeout dinners; the subtle touches of your hand brushing against his during casual conversations, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Oscar took a deep breath to get himself together. To be the coolheaded australian that he normally is, and he must say, he nailed it pretty well, he thought himself.

"No worries Lando, we're not a thing" Oscar replied

Lando laughed at the situation "You know, Oscar, if I ever found out you were dating my sister, I'd have to keep a close eye on you. Protective big brother mode activated!" he said with a grin on his face "and if I ever found out you would've hurt her. You'd have to run. Because when you hurt my sister, I'll go as quick as Verstappen in a Red Bull! And I'm not joking"

"Don't worry, Lando. I'm not dating your sister, and I'm also not planning on it either. I know she's off limits" Oscar replied, still feeling a little flustered about the situation "And besides that, of course, I'm not blind, she's very beautiful. But I don't have any feelings for her. She's my best friend and that's all. I don't see her like that" he lied, trying to keep a straight face, hoping his cover is convincing enough.

Lando seemed to believe what Oscar said and you could see a sense of relief washing over him. Glad that things weren't getting more complicated than they needed to be. Jon on the other hand wasn't convinced at all, and could see right through Oscar's lies. But he consciously decided not to say anything, for Oscar's sake.

_____

A few hours after lunch time it was time for your first physiotherapy session with Oscar. You were preparing the massage table in the room as you heard the door creak, a sign that someone was entering the room. It was Oscar, dressed in his standard McLaren attire.

The atmosphere that Oscar took with him seemed different than it normally was. He looked a little on edge. Something you weren't used from him. It was something that Oscar hoped you wouldn't notice. He noticed that the whole ordeal from today's lunch kept bugging his thoughts. Much to his own annoyance.

"Anything on your mind?" you questioned, wondering if something was going on in your best friends brain.

Oscar shook his head and shrugged his shoulders "Nothing much, honestly. Just having a sore back" he says, not lying about the last part. He actually got a painful back.

You shot him an honest smile "Good to hear, let's get going then" you said, patting your hand on the massage table "Well, casanova, get your clothes off then" you joked

Oscar Piastri burst into laughter, his eyes lighting up and a broad grin spreading across his face, as you delivered the punchline of the joke. The infectious sound of his amusement filled the room, showcasing the genuineness and shared sense of humor between you two.

The young Australian driver noticed that his nervous demeanor started to subdue, being replaced by the calmness that he usually experiences when he is around you. For now it seemed he's actually able to pretend there are no feelings involved. Pretend that right now as if it's just Oscar and you, his best friend, glad that you get to spend more time together now with your new job. For now it seemed like he could

Once Oscar got rid of his shirt, you were confronted with a sight you've been often enough. The driver without a shirt, his muscles present on his undressed upper body. A sight that you never thought to be unpleasant. After all, Oscar Piastri was a very very good looking young man.

He hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his trousers "You want me to take those off too?" you heard him ask.

You nodded "Yeah, that would be the best. Was planning on massaging your legs ass well, think you could use that before FP1"

"Honestly looking so forward to a massage again, my muscles are sooo tight" he complained, pulling his trousers down, revealing his black Calvin Klein boxers.

You felt your breath quicken a little at the sight. You've seen him in swim shorts before, but never in a tight boxer. It did things to you that you felt that you had to push away as quick as you could.

'Come on y/n, it's your best friend, ignore the feelings, stay professional...' you thought to yourself.

As Oscar lowered himself onto the the table, resting his head in the therefore intended headrest, you felt yourself getting back into reality. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of ambient music and the occasional rustle of your movements. You walked over to the cabinet near the door the grab massage oil "Osc, would you prefer a self heating oil or maybe something with a certain scent?"

"Hmmm" he hummed "Self heated sounds nice, I guess"

You grabbed the bottle from the cabinet and took it with you towards Oscar "Could feel a bit cold in the beginning, but this should warm up with the friction of my hands"

Once you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, a gentle, soothing herbal like smell filled the air as you poured a small amount of the oil into your hands, rubbing them together to activate the heat. Oscar tensed slightly, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him.

As the first few drops of the oil touched his back, Oscar felt a the cold you warned him for spread across his skin. Your hands, firm yet gentle, began to work the oil into his muscles with slow, deliberate movements. In no time he felt the once so cold oil, turning into an ejoyable warmth. Each stroke of your hands sent a shiver down his spine, not just from the physical sensation, but from the awareness of who was administering it. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the relaxation, but his mind kept drifting back to his feelings for you

As you knead the tension from Oscar's muscles, the touch of your hands feeling different than usual. The both of you have always had a touchy friendship, so he was used to it in some kind of way, but the way it made him feel today was different.

The intimacy of your touch, he hoped to be able to experience purely professional and friendly, now stirs something deeper within him. He could feel his heart beating a little faster, a silent hope mingling with the pleasure of the massage. The accidental brush of your hand against his neck makes him catch his breath, the line between professional care and personal desire blurring in the quiet intensity of the moment.

"How's the pressure?" you asked softly, trying to make your voice sound as calm as possible, to make this session for him as relaxing as you could.

"Perfect," he managed to reply, his voice slightly huskier than usual.

You felt yourself blush at the tone of his voice, it sounded raspier than usual "I'm moving on to your neck now, if that's okay with you?"

"Hmm, yes" he hummed in agreement.

Your hands moved up to Oscar's neck with a gentle touch, starting with your thumbs, rubbing in half circles on either side. Each stroke ended at the nape of his neck. Oscar let out a deep sigh, one so profound that you almost thought it sounded like a soft moan. But that couldn't be, could it?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Oscar adjusting his position slightly. Unbeknownst to you, it was due to a certain tightness that had started to form in his boxers. One that he tried his utter best to get rid off.

"Are you okay, I'm not hurting you, am I?" you asked, noticing him adjusting his position again

Oscar's breath hitched in his throat. "N-No," he coughed. He wanted to come up with an excuse, maybe tell you that his leg had fallen asleep and he had to adjust because of that, but no words came out. He was too afraid he might actually moan, because while he was having his inner crisis, your hands were still working magic on his neck. The sensation was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, goosebumps forming on his body, and turning him on in a way he never expected.

You noticed his hesitation and the slight tremor in his voice, making you pause for a moment "Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong," you said softly, your hands slowing their movements but not stopping. You wanted to ensure he was comfortable and relaxed, but there was an underlying concern in your voice that you hoped he didn't notice.

Oscar nodded, trying to regain his composure "100%" he said softly, attempting to sound confident "I'm honestly just really enjoying the m-massage.. fee-feels like my muscles really needed that" he said, stuttering slightly, as he felt another wave of arousal surging through him.

"That's good to hear," you replied, your lips close to his ear as you leaned in to apply a bit more pressure to his neck. This caused Oscar to subconsciously shift his hips against the table, seeking some friction, and another almost inaudible moan escaped his lips.

"Could you turn on your back for me, Osc? I think your thighs could use some work as well, I'm sure that will give you some relief during the training" you proposed, you hand now resting on his lower back.

Oscar's eyes shot open and his cheeks started to flush. The warmth of the blush crept up from his neck, coloring his skin with a rosy hue. He shifted slightly, clearly aware of the sudden heat rising to his cheeks. Feeling embarrassed, he hesitated; turning around wasn't an option as he could feel his member straining against his boxers. There was no way he could turn without you noticing the bulge.

'Well, here goes nothing' he thought to himself, attempting to devise some sort of feeble excuse for why he couldn't turn around.

"Ehm…" just as he started to speak, the sound of your phone ringing cut him off.

You reached for the back pocket of your trousers to grab your phone and check if it was important "Oh.. it's Jon, I gotta take that real quick. Is that okay with you?"

"Y-Yeah, sure!" Oscar replied, his voice still sounding husky.

"I'll be back as soon as I can" you said as you headed towards the door, answering your phone in the meantime "Hi, Jon"

The sexually frustrated driver let out a sigh of relief once you closed the door. He flipped on his back, looking at the ceiling, but quickly hiding his face in his hands "Saved by the bell" he muttered under his breath.

Next part

Author's note: The upcoming chapters will be a lot more smutty than this one was :) so, don't worry lol! This one lacked that mostly because I wanted this chapter to be a little bit more about building the tension between Oscar and the reader, so that the experience of the smut in the upcoming chapters would be more enjoyable to read since the plot was build up more :)

Taglist: @aceyalonso

[fackeraccount]

The Way Of Love

♡1♡

Staff running from here to there, trying to make sure everything is ready. Directors shouting orders, and fixing up the set. One would think that the set was in utter chaos but this was an every day occurrence for Y/N. She was so used to it, that she just walked through the buzzing chaos, making her way towards her changing room.

Walking into her room, she sat down in front of the mirror while her makeup artist began on her makeup.

The photo shoot was dark yet elegant theme, meaning bold makeup was needed. Starting with the skin prep, the makeup artist began her work while Y/N grabbed her phone, texting her best friends, Yeji, Yuna, Ryujin, Chaeryeong and Lia, also know and Itzy.

While they didn't get to meet often, they always found time to text each other. They were lucky enough to be their own soulmates. Y/N hadn't had any luck finding hers since they soulmarks showed up. With a red string on her finger, words written across her ribs, and a timer on her span of her inner wrist, Y/N had 3 soulmates.

With a sharp wing on her eye with accentuated cheekbones and a daring red lipstick, her makeup artist  switched with the hairstylist.

Her hair down to her waist was, being curled and now sat as waves before she changed into her into her dress.

The shoot was supposed to be a promotion shoot for the collab of Dior's purses and accessories, and Versace's clothing.

She grabbed the dress designed for the shoot, before putting it on. It was a long, off one shoulder fashionable dress which bunched up at the waist before flowing down to her legs with a slit up the left side, paired with open three inch heels, from Versace.

She grabbed her diamond jewelry set, putting on the earrings first before putting on the necklace and grabbing her watch, putting it on. Lastly, she grabbed her purse and stood in front of the full body mirror.

Flashy, she thought, looking at her full fit in the mirror.

Walking out of the room, she headed straight towards the set, texting the girls a picture of her clothes.

Before she could put her phone away, she bumped straight into someone. The  person grabbed her waist before letting go and stepping back.

"Ah! Oh! Sorry!!", she said to the person who's face she couldn't see since she was face to face with his chest.

"Oh, no it's fine! I wasn't looking at where I was walking!", the person replied.

Realizing the person was speaking Korean, she immediately switched languages, apologizing once more to the voice that sounded slightly familiar, even though she doesn't know who it belongs to.

"No it's not, I should've paid closer attention to where I was headed", she said, bowing deeply.

"Where are you headed anyway?", the person questioned.

She stood up straight, still not looking at his face, before answering. "Ah, I'm headed towards the shoot, and you?", she asked.

"I'm also headed towards the shoot. We can walk together, if you want," he replied.

"Sure,"

She finally looked up at the person. It was a man with long black hair up to his shoulder, with minimal makeup and a black suit. The suit was an all black one, obviously meant to match with someone. He was wearing a long black overcoat with the suit, and a silver Dior wrist watch matching my own.

He's pretty and kinda... familiar? He kinda looks like Yeji. She thought before shaking herself out of it.

No I just met him, he can't be familiar other than looking like Yeji

After her internal debate, she turned to him and shook his hand, before introducing herself, glad that she was supposed to wear scent blockers while on set, so he couldn't smell the confusion in her scent.

"Y/n Aziel,  it's a pleasure to meet you,"

"Hyunjin," he replied.

She felt sharp tingles up from the touch but didnt really pay attention. Too busy walking towards the set do as to not be late. Not really paying attention, her mind glazed over the name, looking at her watch before sighing.

'Hyunjin, we have to go. Are you one of the models for the shoot?," She asked while walking towards the set, looking at her phone camera while fixing up her hair from bumping into him earlier.

"Ah, yes, I am,"

She looked back at him before looking back at her phone.

"Well then, we have to go before the directors come get us," She said.

"Oh, you're also one of the models?", After she gave him a nod, he added, "Let's go then,"

Walking into the set, it was much more calmer than earlier. Looking around, she found her manager, Soojin. She walked up to her manager while Hyunjin walked up to his.

"Unnie, which model is the main model of Versace that I'm posing with?", she asked in English, seeing as her manager understood her mother tongue.

"Hyunjin is the main model, so we got you matching clothing to do your duo shoots, then your individual shoots," She replied.

"Okay," She replied before moving towards her position in front of the camera.

After her shoot, she went straight home, taking a shower and changing into some pajamas. While changing, she saw a big black mark around the back of her waist and on the front of her plam. She gasped, quickly changing and laying down before grabbing her phone, searching up the black ink.

During her search, she found out that it was a soulmark, meaning she had more than 3 soulmates. She went straight to the groupchat, messaging the girls.

Taglist: open!

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Bigby Wolf x Reader Headcanons (NSFW)

Oh ho ho, pookie >:)

I tried making this gender neutral

NSFW alphabets are gonna come back, idk how tho. I may make em Ao3 exclusive to promote it?

🌙 Just from looking at the disgruntled sheriff, you wouldn't even think of him being anything but a top- But he's very much a switch. As much as he loves dominating you in bed, he also loves relinquishing control and letting you take the reigns. He will never admit it, but he loves being spoiled in bed.

🌙 He started out absolutely sucking with aftercare. It wasn't because he didn't want to do it, it was because he never really had the experience. Bigby's a loyal dog and he's so ready to wait on hand and foot to take care of you when you're both spent.

🌙 Bigby loves to please you. Others, not so much. But you? He would drop everything just to satisfy you sexually if he could. Any way you want it, he'll do it: Orally, fingering, rough, soft, on the table or bent over the kitchen counter. You name it.

🌙 He has a not-so-little secret where he wants to fuck you on his desk. He wants to bat the papers and folders off, push you down and mount you. He knows you would be down for it, the issue is that his office is right down the hall from the Business Office and so many Fables - especially Snow and King Cole - walk past every day.

🌙 Condomns sadly don't really for Bigby. It's not that he doesn't like the use of them, they just don't seem to last; Especially if Bigby turns during sex. Not only that, but Bigby cums a lot, especially if you both haven't done it in a while.

🌙 He feels bad when you're both intimate sometimes and he suddenly wolfs out. It's always a shock to both of your systems, especially yours as you're not needing to accommodate the stretch of a bigger and girthier cock on top of him being a lot rougher than he usually is.

🌙 But fuck if he doesn't love it when you spur him on, knowing that you're also spurring on the beast that lies just beneath his skin. It drives him wild when you tease him to the point of him turning only to feign innocence before sauntering away, swaying your hips and throwing a glance over your shoulder like you're not about to get fucked into the nearest surface.

🌙 When he does fuck you as a werewolf, he loves if when you dig your nails into his beastly shoulders and tug on his soft fur. The pain from pulling just does something to him, sending little electric shocks right down his dick that's currently plowing into you. You can also earn bonus points if you call him a good boy.

🌙 He prefers to cum inside of you, some primal need because so satisfied when he spills his warm seed inside of you whether it's in your mouth or your sex. There are also times when he fights those urges and cums on your face or your ass. His favorite place is on your stomach so he can lick it and then kiss you.

🌙 He has a little thing that he's ashamed of, only because it's tied to something obvious from his past: Bigby loves it when you wear the color red. To anyone else, it would end with Bigby being berated because of what happened with Red Riding Hood (it's not from that though), but you don't do that. Instead, you often surprise him by wearing red underwear under your clothes.

🌙 He's not a very talkative person, the less the best really. But with you? He's talking a hell of a lot more. In the bedroom, he's always saying something; Encouraging you, complimenting you, begging for you.

🌙 He too loves to tease. Often pinning you to the mattress, calloused fingers gliding gently over your sensitivities as he speaks softly, telling you all about what he's going to do to you in his deep and scratchy voice. He loves it when you squirm and plead for him to shut the fuck up and start doing something to you.

🌙 If you have a thing for spanking, he totally stole the Crowd Control paddle from the overcrowded evidence room. He even patched up the splintered wood and re-wrapped the cotton grip. Although he would definitely prefer his hand, he does like the noises you make when you get the paddle to your poor behind.

🌙 Is it any shock to you that his favorite position to fuck you in is doggy style? He always gets an earful when you tease him about it afterwards, scoffing playfully and rolling his eyes before he states that he can find better positions to fuck you in. Mating press is another one of his favorites, especially when he wolfs out.

🌙 Bigby isn't the type of guy to really like to inflict a lot of pain. Spanking and choking are great and all, but he won't really push past those borders into something deeper unless you both really talk things out. He's already a rough and strong person, one wrong move and he can seriously hurt you and he would never forgive himself for it.

🌙 He's an ass man for sure. If you ever walk past him in tighter pants, he can always be caught staring right at the curve of your ass. He doesn't blush and look away and try to deny it, instead, he gets a shit-eating grin and fully accepts he was caught before offering that he can take a break if you want to teach him a lesson.

🌙 He's not a fan of roleplaying. He's pretty awkward socially and he would often fumble words or straight-up forget you both were doing so in the first place. It often gets funny when you would say something sexually weird and Bigby would instantly drop character and say the most Bigby thing imaginable.

🌙 Bigby has the strength to pull you into whatever position he wants you to be in. Even when you've climaxed for the umpteenth time and he's still ramming into your poor hole, he's easily holding you up by your hips, shoulders or waist until he's spent himself inside of you.

🌙 He's not the type to smoke after sex. Instead, he often wraps one of his big muscular arms around your waist and drags you as close as possible against his chest and indulge himself in your scent. He insists that you always smell better when you climax.

🌙 He doesn't drift off right away, often kept up by his racing thoughts and heart. He tries to make some light conversation while you're both snuggled close, but he leaves you to rest if you drift off. It's often hard sometimes to calm down if the beast inside wanted to come out to play but he didn't let it.

[literallyangy]

yuu as the dare ?!

gender neutral (perhaps gender evil) yuu

warning? mention of peanits :(, mention of the non brit brit man (the dare)

_________________________________________

riddle (pre book 1) be shocked asf! like why would yuu create such inapproiate music? he collared yuu because girls was wayyy too sexual for him!

post b1 riddle might listen a few times, eventually riddle gets it. Yuu has heard from ace that riddle occasionally hums their songs , but you didn't hear that from Ace!

leona doesnt care. if yuu becomes reallly good friends w him he might listen every now and then but like he doesnt really care. yuu's music is a bit too loud for his ears and is terrible for naps, why should he care?

(pre and post b2 btw)

azul (pre book 3) will find out that yuu sings and will try to steal their voice. but yuu doesnt want that and wont take any pesuasion so azul has to let go, but atleast azul gets a new building!

post b3 azul will listen to yuu's songs and think, "what the flip" or something. he would probably not be able to look yuu in the eyes without pulling up the business man scam persona again

jamil, like leona, doesnt care. he has other shit to do! why should a lowly servant like he care about some alien music?

Eventually, after sometime of being friends, Jamil decides to listen to Yuu's music. He thinks its good and becomes a regular listener, its a good way to ignore his fate and instead focus on the music. On the rare occasion that Jamil has time, he dances to yuu's songs

Vil, is so peeved by yuu's music, its so vulgar and bruttish! Not to mention the whole 'i wear a suit everyday' motif yuu does! The suit doesn't even match yuu! He does find it quite intriuging though.

If yuu became close friends with Vil he will take them out shopping for suits while giving them tips on how to properly promote their music.

Idia, finds Yuu's music pretty cool but very normie like. Idia is an avid vocaloid, japanese equivalent pop, soundtrack, alt, indie type of boy. so he doesnt really get yuu's music, its totally wayyy sensual for a gamer like him!

he does however enjoy making edits of his favs to yuu's music when they become better friends, he only does kt because the beat is easy! not because he wants to promote their music!

Malleus, he's curious and fascinated. Is this what humans do in their spare time now? How funny! Sometimes, he asks about the production of Yuu's songs to further understand the current society of Twisted Wonderland. He also asks about certain lyrics , for example the one about "girls who have dicks" and why that lyric was included.

When he has dinner with the rest of his found family, he brings up Yuu's hobby and everyone is happy that Malleus is learning more. Sebek becomes appaulled after finding out the more vulgar topics Yuu sings about.

_________________________________________

grammar changes a lot my bad! i just felt 💪💪 also sorry if fhis is ooc i lkterally js started book 4

malleus trans ally!

[writingbynova]

Nanami Kento

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : Boss!Nanami x associate/colleague fem!reader - explicit content; minors DNI - pwp (porn with plot) - office sex - praise - missionary position - blowjob - overstimulation - squirting - [un]protected sex - multiple orgasms - pet names (darling, baby) - workaholic - (let me know if I missed any tags)

Word count: ~2.5k

You and Nanami had been working together for almost a year, almost a year of him eagerly eying your every move, almost a year of you enticing him, impatiently waiting for him to make a move.

You had spent countless late nights at the office, this one couldn't be so different could it ? ★★★★

You and nanami were colleagues, associates, friends at best but nothing else, just that. You only ever discussed work, rarely ever met outside, just a few professional dinners, here and there. He was extremely nice and a gentleman, never let anyone disrespect you but also didn't overstep your independence.

For some reason tonight was different, you were staying late at the office. It wasn't anything new, you didn't have anyone to tend to back home, you lived comfortably, had your own flat, good friends and a nice cat who knew how to take care of herself.

From his desk he could only slightly see your hands, typing on the keyboard in front of you, your nails were frantically pressing the keys in front of you, the *clack* sound of them was slightly audible through the office.

Nanami liked you, he really did. You were perfect. The perfect associate. Always on point, always getting the job done at an intense speed, sitting up straight, walking straight through the corridors of the office, every, single, eye turned to look at you, including, especially his. You walked high on those heels every single day, and he never once, in an entire year, heard you complain, you worked after hours, almost every day, at least every week but you never asked for a promotion, an extra vacation nothing, even coming in when sick. You stayed humble when praised for your work and qualities, always displaying a polite smile.

He didn't buy any of it, you couldn't be perfect, no one was, not even him. It didn't seem like it though, he looked at you with stoicism just as he looked at everyone. But his mind, his mind wandered around your eyes, he loved them, he also loved dreaming about how pretty they'd look rolling back when his cock hit your cervix. And so his thoughts went for your mouth decorated by two full lips who'd look and feel absolutely wonderful around his tip. He tried to chase those thoughts away, but they only returned in his dreams, wilder . He was a gentleman though, he often reprimanded himself for the lewd thoughts he constantly had about you, he never touched himself thinking of you despite how badly he wanted to he couldn't get himself to do it, it felt like disrespect, he only looked.

Only looked at the way your boobs would bounce ever so graciously when you walked, only looked at your perfectly shaped thighs, only looked at your hip dips and how good they'd look with his hands holding them while he'd pound into you, only looked at how those hands typing on that trashy keyboard would have such a better use wrapped around his cock. He wasn't perfect, far from that. But were you ?

You knew him perfectly, from how he liked his coffee, to the dinner reservations he made on special occasions. You also knew how much he loved seeing your breasts when you crouched or knelt down. You knew how his eyes lingered over your figure for a few seconds every morning, before he actually greeted you. How he smiled a little more on days you wore that long white body con dress with gold jewelry, how hungry his eyes looked when you stood in front of his desk, his eyes practically begging for you to tend to him under his desk. You were burning hot, the heat was already enough, your thoughts weren't helping, at all.

You opened the collar of your shirt down to a point where your bra was slightly apparent, your v-line stooped so deep, you'd make heads turn but you'd never wear clothes so revealing around anyone at the office. Except he wasn't anyone. You fanned yourself, the heat suffocating you, your thoughts agonizing you.

He looked extra tasty today, wore a black suit You kept your eyes fixated on the screen, your right hand mechanically typing on the keyboard. But you really wanted that suit off him.

You heard his computer close. The already low light in the corner of your eyes disappeared He was coming, his smell was charging at you. You felt yourself clench around nothing. But you kept composure, you had to.

He leaned over your desk, towering over you, his shirt was slightly opened way less than yours was, your eyes perked up at him, offering an innocent smile. His eyes lingered on your chest, you were obviously teasing him.

"You should go home, it's late, I'll drop you off"

"You're always such a gentleman, however, I'm not done"

"It's okay, I'll finish it for you, but it is quite late, your boyfriend must be waiting, I should have sent you earlier but I didn't see the time flying sorry" 

You chuckled at his words "I don't have a boyfriend" you said getting up from your chair, "but you... "you buttoned his shirt and reattached his tie, which was sitting around his neck, before wrapping it around your hand and pulling it. "...Must have a lovely girlfriend waiting for you in bed." You let go of his tie and you both stared at each other for a second. Was it the heat or the late time that sparked such boldness in you, you didn't know. He went around your desk in a second, he stood in front of you, cupping your chin in his hand, his other hand resting on your hip. He stared at you, hesitant.

"You gon' kiss me already or what ?" You spat

He chuckled, his lips finally touching yours. It felt blissful. You didn't want it to stop, ever. 

The kiss was soft, passionate except that it wasn't like you and neither was it like him. So the passionate and cute kiss soon turned into a rough hungry wrestle, you were moaning into the kiss, pulling on his shirt, then pulling on his belt.

You pulled away from the kiss, panting, you hand rubbed on the print his cock made on his slacks

-"Look what you've done to me" he whispered

-"I definitely have to take care of that now..." You cooed

He move back and sat on the chair at you desk, you followed him, leaning never him reaching for a hair tie on your desk, accidentally (intentionally) almost shoving your breasts into his face  "you're such a fucking tease"

"Really ? I didn't know that" you cooed, getting on your knees and tying your hair.

He was large, his dick sprung over your face, your pussy immediately throbbing at the sight. You ran your tongue on his length, he shivered at the feeling "How many times have you dreamed of this uh?" You asked, kissing and sucking on the tip of his cock, lapping at the precum dripping from it. "Too many times" he replied, his hand gripping on your ponytail.

At his words you started bobbing your head up and down on him, coating him with your saliva. You maintained eye contact with him, almost the whole time, his cheeks slightly flushed pink, his breathing was heavier, you kept bobbing your head frantically, sucking him off clean. Periodically keeping him entirely in your mouth for a few seconds You watched how his jaw flexed, his brows furrowed, he was calling your name, you heard but didn't listen, his hands held both sides of your face stuffing your mouth full of his dick, quite literally. You didn't mind, tears might have been stinging your eyes but your pussy was drowning, his grunts and moans intensified, until you felt him twitch inside your mouth, thick loads of cum shooting straight for your throat. You didn't wait for him to ask you to, before immediately swallowing.

When you looked back up at him, he crashed. His brain just left. You couldn't blame him though, your puffy and teary eyes, the way you bit your bottom lip, your chest almost entirely exposed, those hungry eyes...

It didn't take him too long to go feral. You knew he'd crack, you just didn't know he'd break you too.

He carried you ever-so-easily on your desk. Your clothes did not stand a single chance, he ripped your panties in an instant, his finger sliding up your slit, collecting all the juice you were spilling. Although you weren't going to let him rip your Victoria secret bra, you removed your shirt and you bra in a second, before he could get to ruining them, popping a few buttons in the process. At the sight of your boobs being released, he latched onto your chest, if he wasn't feral enough he was now sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples.

He was toying with your entrance, teasing and pushing a finger in just to see how much you'd clench around it. "Kento.." you whined "What's wrong darling?" He asked pulling his mouth away from your right boob, now covered in hickeys and bite marks. " I want you" you cooed unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders "like this?" He asked pushing two fingers into your throbbing hole you twitched "mhm mhm" you hummed shaking you head left and right

" Wan' your cock in me"

You hadn't had sex in a while, endless nights at the office weren't exactly at your libido's advantage and you certainly wouldn't let anyone drink from this faucet. That probably explained why Kento's cock had your mind spinning on itself,  his hand rested on your hips dips, using them to slowly, split you on his cock. With every inch he pushed into you you mewled shamelessly. You weren't a virgin but you definitely felt like one, his dick was molding your pussy to his shape, carving your insides to take him, and only him.

Your moans and whimpers took over the clapping sound of him, absolutely railing you, defiling your body. The desk was shaking, you'd sometimes hear a distant *thud* probably stuff falling on the floor due to how the desk was shaking from his thrusts. His cock was a new feeling in you. You cried his name repeatedly "Kento, Kento K—ento". His pace was made to destroy you, he'd ram into you at an intense speed almost sending you over the edge, before slowing down, dragging himself out, only to slam himself deeper into your pussy abusing your poor cervix. You anticipated it each time, you felt it coming miles away but still, every thrust would have you babbling some incoherent bullshit.

He relished in looking at you this way, after all you might actually be perfect, the way you cried his name, the way you looked at him with those fucked out eyes

"You're fucking perfect, how you effortlessly look like a dream, how graciously you walk around my office, showing off every single curve for me baby, how heavenly your voice sounds, especially when you're screaming my name" he grunted, accompanying each word with a soul snatching thrust.

"You're not going to give this pussy to anyone else right ? I want it. Just f'me. You were made, for me. My girl. My office bitch, My workaholic, my good girl. Want you to cum on my cock baby, I know you can, come on" his voice murmured in your ear his thrusts intensifying.

His words rang through your body who immediately obliged, your hands wrapped around his back, nails digging into his chiseled back muscles. You threw your head back, your eyes rolled back, your body tensed, you whimpered uncontrollably, while he still ruthlessly pounded into you. Your pussy clenched tightly around him, your entire body, quivered under his weight. With a last thrust you felt the same familiar feeling your mouth had felt. He thrust one last time, twitched and then you felt it, deep, your brain going blank at the euphoria. His cum covering your insides.

"What a good girl, and oh my what a lucky man I am" he cooed, leaving bite marks and hickeys on your neck. He slowly pulled out of your filled hole. You whined at the feeling of him backing out of you.

"Can't let this go to waste..."

Where ever blissful place your mind had been fucked to, this snatched you back. You looked back up to see him sitting on your desk chair, face buried into your pussy, ripping confused moans from your throat, his thumb, caressing your clit, his tongue sucking out the mix both of your cums made in you. You could pass out, every time he crossed your eyes he'd roughen, pressing his thumb harder on your bud, circling it even faster "-m yours Ken !" you desperately whimpered, only furthermore enticing him to absolutely break you "-m yours, -m yours, -m yours— this your pussy, to- eat ah, to- fuck, fuck fuck—" you tried gripping his hair and pulling his face away but he was completely locked on it "need to cum, ngh please, s too much—" you had came before but this was different, your entire body went limp squirting all over his face and he, drank, it, all. You couldn't talk at all "ngh...mhm" your entire body still felt overly sensitive.

He applied a kiss over your pussy, causing you to shiver. The composure you tried to keep in the beginning was ruined, as well as some unfortunate paperwork which happened to have been soaked by you.

He carried you in his arms, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead

" 'know you're probably half asleep but you did such a good job" he praised. You only hummed at his words before feeling a blanket covering you and drifting off to sleep.

When you opened your eyes Nanami was over at his desk, answering a call "Alright, I'll call you later" his eyes turned to you "how d'you sleep?" He asked, walking over to you

"Like someone who got absolutely obliterated last night how about you ?" He laughed "sorry baby couldn't help it" he said planting a soft kiss on your lips, "how am I going to get out of here though?"

You removed the blanket to look at yourself, your ass was bare in the wind under your skirt, some buttons of your shirt had popped.

"Trust me"

You held his arm as you both made your way out of the office, honestly your colleagues wouldn't have noticed anything particular about your outfit, except that it was the same as yesterday which made sense because you spent the night at the office. What they did notice on the other hand, was the hickeys and bite mark places all over your neck and chest, the way your legs bucked and how you relied on Kento to walk and most of all the unusual large grin he displayed.

♪ Hope u enjoyed !! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠) ♪

TYSM for all the notes on my previous posts love y'all sm ♡

[starcurtain]

Your post about Alhaitham, Aranara lore, and the issue of fandoms confusing canon with social media promotion was so good!

I have some questions. I only entered the fandom a year ago, and I still haven't caught up on all the events I missed (though I am caught up on archon quests and most character quests). If you have time, could you please share any other examples you have of people popularizing a headcanon and pretending like it's canon?

I have a theory of one. I've noticed a lot of fics portraying Kaeya, Rosaria, and Venti are all drinking buddies at Angel's Share. And as much as I love the idea, I'm not sure I can find a canon source for this. I made a post asking about this once, and the only thing anyone gave me was that cutscene towards the end of the first Windblume. But that only shows Kaeya and Rosaria drinking together; Venti isn't there. Am I right that the three of them being drinking buddies is just fanon?

Thank you!!

I admittedly started playing Genshin a little later than some, so I missed out on many of the original Mondstadt events. Although I've tried to catch up on them via cutscenes and summaries, there are some nuances I'm surely missing, so it's a bit harder for me to judge based on earlier stuff. However, it seems fairly unlikely that Venti and Kaeya are actually good drinking buddies, for a couple reasons:

Even when they are in the same bar, they don't even speak directly to each other, let alone drink together. During Jean's birthday event, both Venti and Kaeya come to Jean's party at the Angel's Share, but once the alcohol starts flowing, Venti sits at the bar with Diluc, while Kaeya goes off to drink in the corner by himself.

Presumably, if they were actual drinking buddies, they would have sat together.

There's also the fact that Kaeya and Venti's relationship seems to be somewhat catty, especially earlier in Genshin's story.

In the 1.4 Windblume event, Paimon literally says that Venti and Kaeya's conversation has devolved into a "coercion contest" where they're both trying to get the better of each other. It's not aggressive and it's largely played for jokes, but it's also not Genshin's typical "I'll do anything for you because you're my friend" level of niceness.

Even way back in the 1.4 Windblume, there are some lines, especially from Kaeya, that are very loaded (and Venti gets his own digs in too lol):

I, for one, think it's pretty much impossible that Kaeya hasn't known Venti's identity all along; Kaeya's entire early character hinges around just knowing way the hell more than anyone else in Mondstadt (with little explanation for how, in some cases). With that in mind, Kaeya--a Khaenri'ahn--asking Venti--an archon--if he's willing to take Kaeya on as a student is a pretty heavy statement.

This scene leads into the one where Kaeya (supposedly) writes a poem in hilichurlian that could be read as a threat toward Venti. There's some debate whether that is actually true and whether Kaeya intended it that way, but the ambiguity still suggests Kaeya knows Venti's true identity and is, at the very least, testing the waters and pushing the envelop to see how far Barbatos will tolerate an "enemy" in his territory.

Even all the way to Kaeya's hangout, Venti and Kaeya's interactions are definitely sarcastic and a bit (humorously) snide, with Kaeya unsubtly using the fact that he knows Venti's secret identity to manipulate Venti into helping with the choir project. (Venti gets his digs here too though, reminding Kaeya about the hate poem he so "kindly" wrote back in 1.4 lol!)

Kaeya even goes out of his way to bring Diona to the song-writing efforts, specifically to trigger Venti's cat allergy and force Venti into having to deal with song lyrics about hating alcohol. 😂

So, up until at least this hangout, I'd say that Kaeya really didn't have too great of a relationship with Venti. He wasn't directly antagonistic to him or anything, but they definitely didn't come across as close friends, and there were enough blatant hints to suggest that Kaeya doesn't view himself as a follower of Mondstadt's archon.

It seems likely (to me at least) that Kaeya would have inherited a natural standoffishness toward archons in general alongside his father's huge expectations that Kaeya serve as Khaenri'ah's hope, a blend of "I'm supposed to hate you because I know what you did to my country" and "I'm uncomfortable that you know my true identity; you might take action against me like the archons took action against Khaenri'ahns in the past." I don't think Kaeya ever actually personally hated Venti, but there is a tension between himself and Venti that isn't necessarily present in Kaeya's other connections (Albedo, Klee, Jean, Lisa, etc.) throughout Mondstadt.

On Venti's side, I think that people forget that Venti is incredibly sensitive to the feelings of the people of Mondstadt and does literally everything in his power to ensure that his people live joyous, free, and happy lives. He clearly knows of Kaeya's background--and probably even his situation with still lingering connections to Khaenri'ah and the Abyss--so I find it extremely unlikely that Venti would have asserted himself in Kaeya's space and tried to force a friendship with someone who would have good reason to distrust archons. I think he would have respected Kaeya's need for distance and avoided trying to get too close.

However, being the incredible sweetheart that he is (the best archon of them all, FIGHT ME), Venti ends this branch of Kaeya's hangout with a truly heartwarming message:

This is Venti literally telling Kaeya "I know you're not a believer, and I know you're struggling with your loyalties between Khaenri'ah and Mondstadt. I know you're still not really sure what your destiny is and into what darkness it might lead you--but at the end of your journey, I will be here to welcome you home."

Venti tells Kaeya that Kaeya is a son of Mondstadt and that the Anemo Archon loves and will protect him just as he loves and protects every one of his true people.

So no, I don't think we have any reliable evidence in game that Kaeya and Venti are actually drinking buddies up to this point in the story--however, I think it's possible we could see this change in the future! Kaeya just needs to know (and accept!) that he is loved!

...As for other instances of fanon replacing canon, this post is already long enough, so I'll save them for another day. Someone ask me about what I think of the fanon surrounding Kaeya and Diluc's situation or something, I guess! 😆

[noroi1000]

HI! I'm the one who asked if your request is open ^^

I'm just want to know how would it be if the mc/reader is the one who defected not suguru. How would both of them react. Thank you so much!

I've been reading you on AO3 and I'm so glad I found your tumblr too!

- 💫

Wild Animal

Summary: You were always their best friend. You were so tiny to them. You could fight; you were a sorcerer. But to make them smile at you again, you took their bad thoughts to make them smile. Instead of letting Suguru kill someone, you did it.

Warnings: mentions of death

You were so close to your friends. You were sometimes cute to them, sometimes funny. Sometimes pretty. Shoko has told you more than once that they like you. But how can a girl who is their friend fight for their hearts? Besides, you could never choose between them.

Even though you were starting to see that they were getting closer to you, much closer than to the others, you didn't want to do anything that would change your current life.

You were so docile to them. Even though you were strong enough with your technique to fight any of them. There's a reason why, when they were grade 1, you were grade 2. And then you were promoted to semi-grade 1. You were getting closer to them. And that was the point. When you are at the same level, you will be just like them!

You won't be weaker, and you won't be stronger.

But you were docile to them. You internally liked the feeling of them smiling at you so softly. And you were docile and sweet.

That's why Satoru said several times that you are like a cat. And Suguru confirmed it. To them, you were so docile.

Docile animals don't attack without reason, right? They won't do anything wrong, right?

After the mission with Riko, you collected their negative emotions for you.

You collected it, making them stop thinking about it.

They told you absolutely everything. Including their inner thoughts about it.

Right after everything that happened, thanks to Satoru, you understood what death is. He told you what it felt like to die. And you could have listened to him and hugged him.

Satoru understood that he was strong and that he had to protect weaker people. He is higher than others. And as someone stronger, he can keep them safe.

He understood something he had previously rejected.

But Suguru...

It was Suguru who knew the role of the sorcerer from the very beginning. That the sorcerer must protect non-sorcerers from curses.

But then... Suguru didn't know what was right or wrong anymore.

You hugged him and calmed him down. You did everything to make him forget about what happened.

You took his negative emotions for you too. You comforted him and told him not to think like that. You convinced him to smile. To live as it was before and not think about what had to happen anyway. He could fight, but someone would still lose his life.

Luckily, it wasn't him who died...

When you managed to see Satoru smile, Suguru wasn't smiling in any way.

„Why do sorcerers have to protect people?”

"Why do we have to protect them even if they are the ones creating the curses?"

„Why can't we eliminate the source of what is killing us?"

„Why can't we erase non-sorcerers?"

The questions that were swirling around in his head also started swirling in yours.

For several months, you did everything you could to convince him.

„You may hate non-sorcerers. But they cannot be completely eliminated. This is not something possible, Suguru.”

You had some important conversations with him. And he smiled at you.

He didn't have to worry as long as there was a ray of light in such a badly damaged Jujutsu society.

Even if Haibara was a clear example of this, you are still with them.

You helped him get out of his madness. You took all those bad thoughts away from him, and that's why he could only think about your funny words.

Not seeing that by taking their honest thoughts, you were destroying yourself from the inside.

If you combine the thoughts of both of them, something will come out that may be a solution for them to never think of such a thing again.

Satoru thought about how many people were dying. He was thinking about whether he should kill the cult members. He watched death, and he killed. He himself died.

After death, you can rise and become someone else.

Satoru, who understood more after death...

And Suguru... He had complete doubts about the lives of non-sorcerers.

Killing them so that only the sorcerers remain... Or forcibly turning them into sorcerers...

You took over their thoughts and started destroying yourself. You couldn't stand it... You couldn't stand what you knew.

You started to have a different view of the world.

Panic attacks that occurred at night. The fact that you were crying while sitting on your bed. You're fighting something made by humans...

People are afraid of disasters or that, at some point, artificial intelligence will eliminate them.

But they don't know that from the very beginning of their existence in the world, they have been creating something even more dangerous. Something that's around every corner and causes death...

People could change. But they are not sorcerers who can die and then rise from the grave.

You wanted to be that docile again. Let them hug you and play with them.

But you couldn't smile.

Witches and humans... It's all black...

There is no whiteness here.

Suguru and Satoru are shades of gray.

You are a black figure in the soul. You had shades of gray, but you agreed to accept all their negative thoughts. That's why you became darker.

You are as afraid of death as anyone else. But they were right.

You killed the first non-sorcerers for no reason. Simply because they cause sorcerers to have to protect them. It is because of people that sorcerers must exist. If it weren't for people, you too would be normal, and you would live a normal life. That's why... You didn't explain yourself to anyone.

Because no one would understand anyway...

Even those whose bad thoughts you turned into yours.

You could have been meek. But docile animals also sometimes attack when they have a reason.

You didn't want them to destroy themselves with what they thought.

So you will destroy yourself for them.

You can't be their girlfriend. You couldn't choose between them. You couldn't fall in love with them because it would destroy the friendship you've had for so many years.

You will destroy yourself so that they don't have to lose what they worked for. Strength, a high place in society, their friendship, and respect.

Everyone works for themselves and for only themselves.

You work for yourself, and you want them to get their dream worlds, at the cost of your life.

Because you agree with them...

What they thought was true.



Curse user?

Why you?

They were frozen when they heard this. You couldn't be a curse user! Not you! Of all the people around, you?!

The knowledge that you, their friend, who could be even closer, is a murderer and a curse user strikes knives in their hearts.

Their hearts were broken when you avoided them. They couldn't even find you. You escaped completely.

Even as special-grade sorcerers, they couldn't find you.

And tears came to their eyes every time they looked at your old photo.

They heard about the murders you committed. But they couldn't do anything.

They couldn't kill you.

But it was inevitable.

When no one could catch you, they were sent to kill a dangerous curse user.

Their docile kitty has changed.

But the sparkle in your eyes when you saw them didn't change.

You wanted to run away as soon as they stood in front of you.

You felt the sudden pressure of their energy pressing against yours.

You heard that they are much stronger now. These three years passed very quickly.

And in order to distract you from what was happening to you, they grew stronger. They trained.

To catch you in one move.

You didn't even feel like fighting. You felt like your body was ready to give up because it knew it had no chance.

Your waist was held in place by a strong forearm, and a large hand appeared over your mouth.

Your wrists were also grabbed.

You looked terrified at Suguru's hands that were holding you.

You jerked your body to try and get free.

They really didn't even move an inch.

"...Our kitty got claws. She's not so docile anymore." Satoru laughed, pulling you closer to his chest.

They can't kill you. They can't capture you and lead you to death.

Unless their superiors are suspicious, they will lie.

They will say they destroyed you on the spot.

In fact, you will just sit quietly at home. As a punishment, with no way out. So that you don't endanger them or you.

Suguru was even grateful to you for showing him what would happen to him if he followed that path. But he would never forgive himself for letting you die because of him.

Non-sorcerers are fools who deserve to die.

Sorcerers are crazy. And everyone has their own morality.

Suguru smiled, leaning slightly toward you.

"Satoru, claws can be trimmed. And a wild animal can be tamed and turned into a docile kitten."

@weebotaku21; @yihona-san06; @mikkies; @raysheil; @dreeamiea; @safaia-47; @porridgesblog; @weebnk-popper; @mc-reborn; @witchbybirth; @starlightanyaaa

[bibibbon]

"On a merit-demerit system, the focus will always be on demerits," says the hero who got promoted after killing a person, while thinking about their idol of an abuser who's allowed to roam free.

Yeah hawks this ain't a good look on you at all.

MHA chapter 429 just didn't even properly changed the system in any meaningful way. The rankings are still up and just include some other people who aren't in the profession of heroics even though realistically anyone and I mean anyone can be a hero like are doctors who save peoples lives not heroes??!?! It seems so lacking.

Also hawks doesn't change anything about how someone becomes a hero for example the UA entrance exams for kids who are like 14-15 is still open. Kids and I mean small easily impressionable and exploited children can become heroes and be manipulated into becoming child soldiers just like what happend with 1A and 1B.

The narrative also robs hawks of any flipping agency or autonomy when it comes to his relationship or situation surrounding enji todoroki. Look I get the whole an abused victim finding comfort in another abuser trope but give us some development please Horikoshi. I need to see hawks genuinely look at enji in disgust not believing that the person that indirectly helped him and the person he looked up to was just another version of his own father one that didn't care for his children and abused them. Hawks should honestly put enji in prison or make him have some LEGAL concequences for doing what he did because enji has various crimes that he committed and the fact that he goes away Scott free without suffering is insane (no him becoming disabled isn't him suffering for his crimes of abuse, quirk marriage and more). Honestly it's also annoying that enji was the one who took over most screentime for the todoroki family arc instead of the others, the much more important todorokis soif I could have it written I would have enji dead with a tarnished reputation that gets recognised after the war that he was a bad person and a bad hero.

When it comes to hawks I still stand by the fact that hawks relied on what the HPSC taught him to do so when he felt (keyword : felt) like he wouldn't be able to stop twice he chose to kill him as an easy way out. He literally says in the interview that he though it was necessary and that he didn't regret it (heck canon doesn't even make him look or think about it at all even with his little fight with toga which wasn't a fight all he says is that Jin was a nice guy) hawks should of received concequences for killing Jin whether that be by toga's hands or that be by the public.

Although my question is who actually controls the legal forces? Like MHA's Japan only form of government is the HPSC and if Past the first war they're dead then it's only the heroes who are controlling the legal system so yeah (corruption)

[echobx]

not my type 4 - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: y/n has to go work in the OBX a yearafter she last saw Rafe and things take their turns...

warnings: fluff, smut (p in v (unprotected))

word count: 2.5k

author's note: I'm not a fan of what I did here and I wouldn't even feel bad if y'all hated me for it bc it's just shit in my eyes, but I also don't have the capacity to change it or write it anew but I also didn't wanna leave it unfinished. that's all.

masterlist part 3

You don't want to move to the OBX, but it's what your father expects of you and it's a promotion. You'll be in charge of the division, hiring new brokers, taking care of business. It’s a huge step forward from all the number pushing you had to do the last year since Florida was opened.  But, just like you predicted, it had been worth it, and now you're supposed to actually bring in good numbers from the island strip.  And on top of that, you are sure that you're over him. A whole year is a long time after all. 

“And the beach is just gorgeous,” you tell your friend Parker, who helped you move. You're both standing in the new office building, looking out of a window, not noticing Rafe's approaching behind you.  “That wholly depends on what side of the island you're on,” Rafe comments, and you turn around to look at him. His polo shirt hugs his muscles perfectly and the shorts sit a bit low. It's in stark contrast to the very formal rosé colored suit you're wearing.  But the worst part of it is that your heart starts fluttering just a little when his blue eyes rake over you.  “We'll find out soon enough,” you hit him back and take Parker's hand, intertwining your fingers, and to your own luck he just goes with it. You had been friends for too long for him to question your moves, and he also knew way too much about what had happened between Rafe and you.  “Good,” Rafe smiles and turns to walk into his office.  “Okay, y/n/n, I get it, but you're also crushing my hand,” Parker laughs lightly, and you let go of him.  “I'm gonna be so okay. Yes. I'll just be okay. Right?” you tell yourself and walk into your office to set it up. 

When you go out for lunch, Rafe simply joins you uninvited. You focus on Parker, on pretending that you're with him, not just because you have to keep your mind from slipping to Rafe. But mostly because you want to know if he's going to be jealous.  And from the way his jaw clenches when you kiss Parker's cheek, it seems to be working. 

However, it's only working for a week, because your friend has to go back home and the moment he's gone you jump headfirst into work. If you won't let your mind rest, it can't think of Rafe. That's your strategy.  It's a flawed one though, because after three weeks of excessive paperwork and hiring new staff, you find your desk empty, nothing left to do. At least not enough to keep you occupied for more than a few hours each day. 

“There's an issue with the Campbell property,” Rafe says while walking into your office, not having knocked. “I thought you might want to look at it before I make a decision.” He hands you the papers, and you look over it, but you can't find any mistakes on it.  “And what's your verdict?” you ask, hoping that it'll help you figure out what might be wrong, because even after reading the notes a third time, you still can't find the problem.  “You work too much,” he shrugs and you drop the paper.  “What?”  “Nothing. It's a numbers issue, see,” Rafe points at the yard size. “They say it's 0.7 acres, but it's actually just below 0.6 acres.” “How do you know that?” “Because I've been to that house. Do you want to risk us getting sued?” he cocks his brow up and you sigh.  “I'll send Darryl to measure it out. Anything else?”  “Your boyfriend isn't around as much as I thought he'd be.” Rafe lets his fingers run over the glass of your desk, and you bite the inside of your cheek to not smile. The small glimpse of jealousy makes your heart skip a beat. It's stupid, really, because you don't know each other, you shouldn't feel like that for a guy you had slept with twice over a year ago. And yet, you still did.  “Parker has his work, and I have mine,” you smile politely.  “I see. Well, the Campbell thing,” Rafe notes before walking out again, and your heart is still pounding like crazy after the small interaction. 

You keep working, trying to keep your distance and he does the same. Only talking when it's really necessary to keep the office out of the reds.  You don't notice that he keeps eyeing you when you're not looking, that he makes sure that the kitchen is always stocked with your favorite snack. And you don't know that he notices how the small packets only ever go missing when you have a rough day or had an unplanned call from your father. And that you dress more so provocatively when you have a showing than when it's just an office day. Or how you strip off your heels when you sit at your desk for more than five minutes. He picks up on all of your little antics, and he doesn't even want to, he's over it just as much as you, but he can't help it either. 

And for the brokers open two months after your start in the OBX he makes sure that the caterer has a non-seafood option alongside the tiny lobster rolls and crab cakes. Because he knows you don't eat it, and he wants to get on your good side again, although he's aware that food won't be the way to do it. 

“Old fashioned?” Rafe holds the glass out for you, and you take it with a hushed “thank you.” “That's what you had the-”  “I remember,” you look up at him, his hair is cut back to a buzz cut, and you don't know if you like it as much. It does accentuate his features though, which isn't a bad thing at all. The sharp nose and high cheekbones, the crooked smile he always greets you with- No, you can't let yourself think of him again. It was hard enough as is, to survive living and working so close to him.  “You look good,” Rafe nods at you, and you don't know what to reply. The short black dress is showing off more than you intended to, but your best friend Claire convinced you to put it on anyway when you called her earlier that day.  “Uhm… thanks,” you mumble and let your eyes run over him, half buttoned shirt and suit pants. He hadn't dressed up at all and the fact that he didn't need to, and your heart was still racing, was speaking volumes. “You clean up nice too,” you tell him and look away again. 

You try mingling, networking a little and gossiping a little less. But when you overhear a broker from a different brokerage talk about Rafe you simply can't stop yourself. The words coming out of her mouth won't add up to the Rafe you know and try to hate.  She talks about dark escapades and less intriguing things but follows them up with a harsh comment on his person. Maybe she is jealous, you choose to believe that rather than what she keeps talking about. There's nothing less believable than all the atrocious things she mentions and yet when you look at yourself in the mirror of the restroom later that night, you think it doesn't matter. Everyone has a past after all.  “He's not like that anymore, right?” you ask yourself quietly after freshening up your lipstick. 

You see Rafe standing at the side, not wanting to talk to anyone, and you start to realize why. You start to understand why he never ate lunch in the kitchen with you or the team.  “Networking is part of the job,” you remind him while placing yourself next to him.  “Not with this folk,” he replies dryly.  “You shouldn't care what they say.” You look up at him and meet his gaze.  “I don't. Do you?”  “I don't think it's possible to do this job if you're not a stone-cold killer at heart.”  He flinches at your wording but he nods. “Are you?”  “Have to.”  “You don't though,” he seems almost sorry, but he turns away again, nipping on his drink.  “Didn't get a choice much,” you mumble absentmindedly. 

“Contradictory,” Rafe huffs a laugh.  “What?”  “You. It's contradictory. You saying you didn't get a choice after telling me you made the choice freely,” he looks at you again, eyes scanning your face.  “Didn’t think you'd remember,” you mutter and turn around, wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air, but his hand shoots out to grasp your wrist.  “Don't go, please.”  “Why?” you turn around to look at him sternly. “I'm sorry, about all of it,” he apologizes, and let's go again.  “I'm over it,” you lie.  “You're really not,” he whispers and steps closer. “And it's my fault, all of it. I'm sorry, sugar.” 

“Are the stories true? The shit they talk about you behind your back?” you ask and he nods.  “Okay,” you say and he furrows his brows.  “You don't care?”  “Not really. I mean, that was then and now is now. I know the crazy shit people do when they're high,” you shrug, and he looks a bit confused. “And the daddy issues on top of that. I mean, I get it. We've both got our fair share of daddy issues, right?”  “Right,” Rafe drags out the word, he truly didn't expect you to not care about it at all. If anything, he thought you might run again, and the fact that you don't is confusing him.  “Do you wanna get out of here and get hammered?” you whisper, and a grin spreads on your face when he takes your hand and pulls you away. 

That's how you find yourself bent over your own desk, mind hazy and a moaning mess as he fucks you.  “Too much,” you cry but Rafe just laughs. “I know you can take it, baby.” And you know he's right, but you love to be told over and over again.  “You're so good to me. So tight, sugar.”  “Gonna cum,” you moan, and he stops, pulls out and makes you turn around.  “Sit up, pretty girl, and look at me.” You follow the order, sitting up and moving to the very edge of the table before he pulls your legs over his shoulders and enters you again. 

His hand presses down on your stomach and you groan. It's all too much, and he's making it worse, moving to press on your clit with his thumb before drawing harsh circles and your eyes roll back in response.  “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps into a kiss, biting down on your bottom lip when your orgasm rips through you, squeezing him so hard that he can't hold it in anymore and shoots his hot cum into your pulsating core. “Fuck, you're perfect. So hot. Missed you so much,” Rafe pants, still buried deep inside of you and not ready to actually let go.  “Forgot how big it was,” you whisper and feel him twitching inside you. It’s just a silly little note, but it's all he needed to get hard again and fuck you again, not caring about the mess you were making. 

“Bet he's not fucking you like that,” Rafe pants, and you don't know what he's talking about, but you let it slide, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you.  “Mine. All mine,” he rambled, lips attached to your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving a plethora of open-mouthed kisses on it.  “Yours, daddy. All yours,” you moan and hold onto him tighter, pressing yourself against him to try to force him into you deeper.  “Soak me, pretty,” he breathes against your lips, one hand holding your jaw, the other between your legs, rubbing your clit. And his blue eyes are barely visible as he stares into yours.  “Make me,” you hush but scream when he pinches your clit before rubbing it again.  “Don't be a brat, sugar. Come on. Soak daddy's dick,” he grins, drops of sweat running down his toned body, and you swear you'd lick him clean all over if he let you. And when his tongue once again entangles with yours, your eyes roll back and your legs tremble. Screaming at the high he managed to give you and far past it as he fucks you through it and empties his load into you for the second time. 

And the next few weeks you spend the same, pretending like nothing happened while letting him fuck you every single night. You don't want to talk about all the things that you should clearly talk about.  Like the fact that he still believes that you have a boyfriend up in New York, or that he keeps staying longer until he falls asleep next to you, and you don't have the heart to kick him out.  But you groan when you wake up and see him try to get ready as quietly as he can. 

“What are you doing?”  “Didn't mean to wake you, sugar,” Rafe apologizes and leans over you, placing a kiss on your lips.  “Don't go,” you whisper as he hovers over you. “I don't want you to go.”  “Are you sure?” he asks and you nod again. It takes him less than ten seconds to strip himself of his pants and jump back into bed. 

Your head is nuzzled into his neck while you hold onto him, somewhat scared that'll it's just a dream.  “I think you should break up with your boyfriend,” Rafe mumbles.  “Boyfriend?” you pull away with furrowed brows.  “Yeah. Not really fair to him. Not really fair to us,” he doesn't look at you as he says it.  “Us?” It's not that the term itself is confusing to you, but more so the fact that it's coming from him. That he's saying it so casually.  “Yeah. If you didn't have that Parker guy, I could actually take you out, show you off,” he whispers and finally lowers his eyes to see your awestruck face. “What?” 

“You want to date me?”  “I would yes. Is that hard to believe?”  “I'm me, and you're… you,” you answer, but he just kisses you, hoping to smother all your doubts with it. 

“Rafe?” you whisper and he nods. “Parker isn't my boyfriend, I just wanted to make you jealous,” you admit with a whisper and to your surprise he starts laughing. “What's so funny?”  “I didn't even think of that,” he laughs and starts plastering you in kisses. “So smart. So perfect. So pretty,” he says in between kisses.  “Do you really think so?” you ask, and he nods repeatedly, a smile playing on his lips.  “You're so beautiful, y/n.”  “Okay,” you blush and try to hide under the sheets, but he pulls them down to kiss you again and again, and you don't think he'd ever want to stop, and you wouldn't tell him to either. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

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[viking-raider]

Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

[paperclipninja]

This thought struck me while I was driving and I don't know if it's a) tenuous at best, b) me finding meaning where there is none or c) possibly a thing. So naturally I'm going to throw it out there as a possible maybe-theory/foreshadowing.

As we all know, this handshake moment in the magic shop in s2 has the sword very deliberately positioned right where Aziraphale and Crowley's hands meet and we see the three swords in Aziraphale's back as he moves forward.

And when Aziraphale walks back to the counter and Crowley turns to watch, we see three swords now towards Crowley's chest - it's nicely and clearly pointed out with pictures in this post by @newfangledfancy

As many have noted, if Good Omens is anything, it is deliberate in its choices, especially when we're looking at something as obvious as this. What exactly it means, we'll no doubt find out later, but it certainly seems somewhat ominous and foreshadowing, with the sword down the middle arguably already in play with the separation of Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of s2.

My take? The sword in the middle is the breaking our two faves apart, the swords in Aziraphale's back are an indication of betrayal by Heaven (he still trusts they are the 'good guys') and the swords to the front of Crowley, to me, is indicative that part of that betrayal will involve trying to harm/destroy/get rid of Crowley.

The 'offer' to reinstate Crowley to angel status was such utter piffle (sorry, couldn't help it) because the Metatron knew he'd never go for it, but it also served another purpose; to lead Aziraphale to think he'd misjudged the Metatron (even if Aziraphale didn't really think that and doesn't have a choice about returning to Heaven, I do think part of him still also believes the system can be changed from within).

That extremely pointed, horrible look that the Metatron shoots Crowley just before he and Aziraphale leave the bookshop to go discuss the promotion (with accompanying danger music and all), you know, this one:

reveals to us that this performance the Metatron is putting on for Aziraphale really is just that, a performance. He wants Aziraphale to think he's misjudged him, I'm sure he was hoping he could convince Aziraphale to trust him. I think the angel is too clever to fully trust the Metatron, but what it does do is maintain Aziraphale's trust in Heaven and, I believe, the possibility he could make a difference.

So why the offer that Crowley could come to Heaven too? Yes, to entice Aziraphale but also, the offer makes it seem as though the Metatron has no gripe with the demon after all. It may be 'irregular', but he was willing to let Crowley be reinstated, it puts any notion of the Metatron potentially wanting to hurt Crowley off Aziraphale's radar (at least for now).

It's interesting too, in the 1941 magic shop scene, that the swords appear to be going into Crowley only once Aziraphale has moved past him, has his back to him. If I was following the separate, betray, destroy sequence of the sword set up, then I'd take that to suggest that any move against Crowley will happen while Aziraphale has his back turned, so to speak, and can you imagine the kind of fury that would unleash in our no. 1 angel? Coz I can and it is amazing! But I digress...

While speculation is fun (so, so much fun) and all, the point, the POINT of this rambling post was to say that if indeed that 1941 magic shop sequence is foreshadowing Aziraphale being 'stabbed in the back' and Crowley attacked in some way, it's not the first time we've seen a potential nod to that.

Look it may be entirely coincidental but I have to say, there is mighty similar symbolism right back in s1 when Aziraphale and Crowley are hit with the paintballs. Where does the pellet land on Aziraphale? On his back (and how, from where he's standing? Is there someone behind him??). And where does Crowley cop the 'bullet'? Right there in the chest.

I just wouldn't put it past this show to have planted the seed that early on. And look, if it's nothing of the sort, then they're just fantastic stand alone sequences. That's the greatest thing about Good Omens, if it was a Clue, then it's amazing and if it's not, it was still amazing. We simply cannot lose.