#in itself it’s better but very plain

[shouldprobablybereading]

I can’t decide wheter I hate it or like it

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sysig]

Blusters in, flusters out (Patreon)

[prokopetz]

Concept: survival-horror tabletop RPG set in one of those fleshy hell-worlds, except the Flesh Hell Planet is a. basically benevolent, but b. deeply incompetent. Like, it's not one of those "theoretically benevolent but thinks it knows what's good for you better than you do" or "trying to violently assimilate everything because it thinks that being made a part of itself is ontologically good" deals – it really does want to help its human inhabitants, and it's willing to do so on humanity's own terms. The trouble is that it doesn't really get humanity, its capacity for both receptive and expressive communication in ways that individual humans can understand is extremely limited, and also it's just plain not very good at a lot of things, to the extent that even when it does fully understand what's needed it often fucks it up in some bizarre way.

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[dandelionjack]

We Invest Things With Significance, or: Why Sutekh Isn’t Sutekh, But Death Itself. alternative title: Fear Is the Mind Killer.

the Doctor Who Series 14/1 thesis statement

i don’t think that sutekh has literally been attached to the TARDIS since Pyramids of Mars. i think that the salt at the edge of the universe — the grievous mistake that caused all myths to become a reality — was what made him appear. and he’s not the same character as sutekh the osiran, a powerful alien that delusionally believed himself to be a god. he *is* a god. nuwho-Sutekh is Death Incarnate.

ergo, this version of Sutekh is the literal psychic manifestation of the Doctor’s deep-seated, guilt-motivated fear of the idea that his arrival brings death wherever he treads. this death-anxiety was turned into a physical presence, haunting the TARDIS all through the Doctor’s timestream, because of the salt. that’s the reason why the Doctor didn’t spot any Susan Twists before Wild Blue Yonder…

there are two timelines in Doctor Who — relative time and universal time. universal time is the history of the universe. relative time is how the Doctor experiences it. in universal time, Sutekh has supposedly been hitchhiking through the vortex for millenia. in relative time, he has only been doing so since Fourteen accidentally invited myths back into the world.

the Doctor was insecure and afraid and believed the above quote (from the very first episode!! spoken by the very first named character in nuwho to die on screen, no less!) to be true. but until WBY it had only been true on a symbolic, metaphorical level. myths, legends, concepts and stories becoming real after the salt caused the Doctor’s anxiety about being a death-bringer to take the shape of a black dog — a universally recognised symbol of death — wearing the name and voice of his most formidable enemy, Sutekh.

in a way, this plotline mirrors The Woman from 73 Yards similarly being a manifestation of Ruby’s worst fear — that of being abandoned by everyone she loves for something intrinsic and incorrigible inside her that she cannot change. Ruby fears being left completely alone, so “The Woman” causes everyone in her life to leave her. the Doctor fears that his coming always heralds mass destruction (“maybe i’m the bad luck”), so “Sutekh” makes sure that the TARDIS literally becomes an altar of death.

ever since Wild Blue Yonder, stories in doctor who have become sources of immense power. the worst, most potent stories we tell ourselves are the lies that our sick brains whisper to us — secret anxieties that we’re not good enough, that all our loved ones will inevitably leave, that we carry nothing but bad luck in our wake. what better clay to mould a monster from than the protagonists’ own neuroses?

and if anybody’s still in doubt, here’s the plain text, all laid out below:

we invest things with significance. that’s what the salt at the edge of the universe really meant. that’s what almost every episode this series has been about, thematically — the imaginary kastarions, the cosplaying chuldur, the bogeyman written into life because kids need a scary story. myths become real to us because we believe in them, love and death and monsters too.

[the-merry-otter]

If you’re on mobile, you may have to click on the images for better quality!

Plain text version with image descriptions is under the cut.

Please note that the image descriptions will be reflecting what I am trying to convey with the photo, rather than the total look of the photo itself. For example if I am trying to describe a dress, the hair colour of the person wearing it will be ignored. This is to reduce the total word count of the descriptions, because I have a lot of images to describe. On this note, I have also streamlined the information as much as possible.

[Plain text description:]

First slide: Mariota’s Guide to 14th Century (Medieval) Women’s Clothing

This slideshow is brought to you by @the-merry-otter on tumblr

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP MOTHERS AND FUCKERS. I’m bored, so today we’re going to be talking about medieval clothing. Specifically fourteenth century English clothing because that’s what I’m good at. (Source: trust me bro I’m a reenacter). Also this is all female stuff - sorry masc leaning folks, I’ll get to you someday!

Disclaimer: this is not completely comprehensive or nuanced in the slightest, it’s just a quick overview guide. Do your own research xoxo.

[Image ID: to the left is a picture of a woman in a light blue dress and a pink hood gazing out at a lake. The hood has a skirt that falls over her shoulders, and there is along thin pipe attached to the back of the hood that dangles to her knees. The edges of the hood are decorated with burgundy crochet. The picture is captioned “beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, literal goals.” End ID]

[Image ID: To the right is a picture of a typical renn faire outfit. It has a white poofy underdress, a black corset, and a brown skirt. There is a red cross drawn over the image. It is captioned “very pretty, but definitely not medieval sorry!” End ID]

Second slide: Underwear (ooh la la)

Now with nasty pocketses

[Image ID: a picture of gollum, from lord of the rings, snarling in disgust. There is a line in The Hobbit where he asks Bilbo what he has in his nasty little pocketses, which is what I am referencing. End ID]

So, corsets, stays, and shapewear in general kind of wasn’t a thing yet. So your underwear was a shift, which was awesome because it was also your pajamas. They were usually made of linen, though some might have been made of cotton is you were rich.

[Image ID: A plain white linen garment laid out flat on the floor. It is a dress that hangs to about knee length, with elbow length sleeves. An arrow points to it with text reading “this is a shift”. End ID]

There is evidence for supportive shifts for busy support, like this one from the fourteenth century!

[Image ID: a second shift, worn by a female presenting person. It is laced up the front, and is a lot tighter and more fitted, especially around the bust. It has straps instead of sleeves. End ID]

There’s also this bra like fragment found in Austria, but that is a whole debate so.

[Image ID: A bra-like garment fitted to a mannequin. It seems to be made out of white linen, coloured with time. The left cup is damaged, and overall the garment looks incomplete. End ID]

Then, over the shift, yet under your main dress went your pockets, which tied on at the waist. Your dresses had slits do that you could get at your stuff without flashing everyone lol.

[Image ID: A picture of medieval pockets. They are upside down teardrop shaped, but the point is flat and is part of the waist ties. There are slits in the side up the top to access the inside. They are cream coloured with bright floral embroidery. The caption reads “these bad boys can fit so many cool pebbles.” End ID]

[Image ID: A young female-presenting person wearing medieval clothing. She has her hands in the pocket slits of her dress. They are just below hip height. End ID]

Third slide: your dress, or the cotehardie. (Pronounced coat hardy)

Over the shift you put your dress, sometimes referred to as either a kirtle or cotehardie. 14th century people started actually form-fitting their clothes more than previous centuries. These needed fastenings, which were mostly lacings (spiral lacings specifically), or buttons made of either metal or cloth, used at the front of the dress from neckline to waist, and on the sleeves from elbow to wrist, with exceptions of course.

(Sidenote: fuck sleeves, all my homies hate sleeves)

[Image ID: a woman in a warm yellow dress to the left of the text. The dress is constructed simply, with a single piece of fabric used for the length of the body so there is no waist seam. The skirt is widened by inserting four triangles, one each at the front and back, and one on each side. The front has buttons made of the same fabric as the dress, that go down to the belt at the waist. The sleeves have similar buttons from wrist to elbow, on the outside of the arm. The woman is also wearing a liripipe hood. End ID]

Dresses seemed to be mostly wool, though I often use linen for mine because I live in Australia and it’s hot in summer and I don’t want to die. Most often they weren’t lined (that is what the underwear was for).

[Image ID: in the top left of the slide is a woman wearing a green woollen dress. It is constructed the same as the previous image, except it has spiral lacing on the front instead of buttons. The sleeves are fastened by three small buttons. She is wearing a simple and veil. End ID]

[Image ID: the top right of the slide shows a woman in a teal coloured dress, similar to the one before. This one has metal buttons at the sleeves and down the front. She wears a veil only. End ID]

The neckline of these dresses was usually round or an oval shape, and some manuscripts have it so wide that it falls off the shoulders slightly.

[Image ID: A photo of a medieval manuscript, depicting six medieval ladies in a row holding hands. The neckline of their dresses is wide enough that the tops of their shoulders are visible. The image is captioned “me and the girls on a Friday night”. End ID]

Clothing was a lot more colourful than the movies would have us believe lol.

[Image ID: Three women, each in dresses similar to the ones before. To the left is a forest green, the middle one is bright saffron yellow, and the one to the right is a vibrant tomato red. End ID].

Fourth slide: Dress two; electric boogaloo

[Image ID: Merry and Pippin from lord of the rings. Above them, meme text reads “we’ve had one, yes”, and then continues below with “but what about second dress?”. End ID]

You could also wear an overdress, which was usually of a contrasting colour and had shorter sleeves.

As well as fashion, they would have been used for extra warmth, and so were usually made of wool.

[Image ID: a woman in a maroon coloured dress like the ones on the previous slide. The sleeves stop just above her elbow, revealing a blue dress underneath. End ID].

Common people would have only owned a couple of different outfits, as fabric was super expensive.

[Image ID: various pictures of women with examples of an overdress. They are all constructed the same as the overdress, but with shorter sleeves that reveal a second sleeve of a different colour underneath. End ID]

A common late thirteenth to mid fourteenth century overdress was the ladies surcoat, which had big holes instead of sleeves.

Belts would have been worn underneath the surcoat.

[Image ID: three photos of women wearing surcoats. They are normal dresses, except there is a large D shape cut out of either side, leaving a large hole from the shoulder to below the hip. They have no buttons down the front. One of the surcoats is made of red brocade, and obviously belongs to an upper-class impression. End ID].

Fifth slide: Hair and headwear

Hair was worn braided and pinned up, with a coif (cap) and either a wimple or veil, or both. The wimple and/or veil were usually pinned to the coif, or secured on a band of fabric around the head.

Veils would be either oval, or a D shape. Wimples were rectangular. A wimple goes under the chin and a veil goes over your head.

[Image ID: a close up of a woman wearing a wimple. It is made of a light fabric, likely silk. The wimple wraps under her chin and is secured at the back of her head. A narrow band of fabric or possibly leather circles her brow, which would have been used to secure the wimple. End ID.]

[Image ID: A picture of YouTuber Morgan Donner wearing a wimple and veil. The wimple wraps under her chin, and the veil is placed on top of her head, draping down past her shoulders. It does not cover her face. Loops of hair are visible either side of her face. End ID]

All the headwear would be made of linen, thin wool, or silk, depending on class. The veils could also be made really fancy by ruffling the front edge or by attaching pearls.

[Image ID: a woman in a wimple and half-circle veil. The edge of the veil that frames her face is elaborately ruffled. The edge of a coif is visible under the veil. End ID]

I ride the bus in my medieval gear a lot because of events, and way too many people think I’m Amish because of my veil. It’s honestly just funny at this point. I should keep a tally.

[Image ID: a woman wearing a St Birgitta’s coif, pinning a wimple at the back of her head. The coif is a simple white linen cap that encloses the head, with a line of lace down the centre of the head. It is secured with a loop of linen around the head. End ID].

[Image ID: a picture of someone with plaits that have been pinned around the head like a crown. It is captioned “you could also pin your hair up like this”. End ID]

Working women might have just wrapped their head in a scarf instead, fuck this fancy shit right?

[Image ID: a woman in a headscarf that has been twisted and then looped around the front of her head. It is captioned #girlboss. End ID].

Fake braids were a thing! Blonde hair in particular was very fashionable, and bleaching or fake braids were sometimes used to achieve that.

[Image ID: two fake braids made of a coarse fibre. They are blonde in colour, and are looped like a hairstyle seen on many of the reenactors. They have white ribbons attached to the top end to help secure them to the head. End ID]

Sixth slide: Cloaks and hoods

These would have actually been two seperate garments! Integrated hoods on cloaks didn’t actually become a thing until the … seventeenth century or so? (Citation needed).

Cloaks were a lot simpler than the typical cloak we think of nowadays. Often they were just a rectangle of wool, or by the fourteenth century, sometimes a half circle.

They were almost always wool as far as I know, and were generally fastened by a cloak pin or buttons.

[Image ID: a metal cloak pin. It is a circle with a small opening at one point. A long pin is attached via a loop, allowing it to slide along the pin. It can fit through the opening in the circle. To use one, you would gather the fabric on the pin, and then slot the circle over the pin and then turn it, so the fabric is trapped between circle and pin. This is much easier to demonstrate than describe. The picture is captioned “these bad boys are the real MVP’s though”. End ID].

[Image ID: a diagram showing the construction of the bocksten man cloak. It is a half circle pieced together by laying strips of fabric together. In the centre of the flat side, a half circle is cut out for the neck. End ID]

[Image ID: a reconstruction of the bocksten man cloak. It is orange wool, and lined with an off-white linen. It is fastened on the right shoulder by three fabric buttons. It would fall to just above the wearers knees. End ID].

Women’s hoods could be short and open, or with a longer skirt and closed with buttons. Liripipe (pronounced leery-pipe) hoods were named for the tube of fabric that dangled off the back of your hood, varying in length. As well as a fashion statement, it could also be wrapped around the neck like a scarf if it got cold.

Hoods were nearly always wool I’m pretty sure, though they were often lined with linen, silk, or cotton.

[General description: a short liripipe hood would be open, with the bottom only reaching your shoulders. They were made from a single piece of fabric that would wrap over your head, with the seam down the centre back of your head. It was flared at the bottom by inserting triangular gores. At the front edge near your face there would be a strip jutting out that went from one side of your chin, over your head, and down to the other side. This would usually be folded back, revealing the lining colour. The bottom of the hood could either just reach the base of your neck, or reach down to just past your shoulders. The former would usually be open at the front, with fastenings optional. The latter option with the longer skirt was almost always able to be fastened up the front with fabric buttons. The liripipe itself was a thin flat tube of fabric fastened at the centre top back of the hood. End ID]

Fun fact, 90% of why I decided to reenact the fourteenth century specifically was because of liripipe hoods.

Seventh slide: Feet (not in a weird way)

Hose were used to keep your legs warm. For women they were usually knee height, and fastened just underneath it with a garter or tie.

[Image ID: a single light yellow hose, belted beneath the knee with a leather garter. The seam is down the centre back of the leg going all the way to your toes, and then around the top of the foot in front of where it connects to your leg. End ID]

Hose usually would have been made from wool, and were cut on the diagonal (bias) of the fabric to get the maximum stretch possible from the fabric. They still were looser than modern tights are though!

Knitted socks were also a thing I’m pretty sure, but I don’t know enough about them. Sorry!

Shoes were simple, usually referred to as turnshoes because of how they were made. Fun fact: the lack of foot support means that turnshoes are similar to going barefoot in terms of how you walk. Some reenactors love it, some hate it, and some are indifferent lol.

[Image ID: a pair of turnshoes made of dark leather. They have a strap that would fasten around the front of the ankle, similar to some modern shoes. The toes are pointed, and it is captioned “pointy toes were fashionable, especially for men”. End ID].

Because shoes were really hard to waterproof, (ask me how I know), and didn’t have solid soles, wooden pattens (pronounced pat-tens) were worn to keep you off the ground while outside.

[Image ID: a person wearing a pair of wooden pattens over their shoes, standing on a drenched cobblestone street. They are wooden platforms with an archway on the bottom, and are attached to the foot with leather straps around the toe, ankle, and around the back of the heel, similar to modern sandals. The image is captioned “ye old crocs”. End ID].

[Image ID: a woman’s leg with the skirts drawn back, revealing the bright yellow hose underneath. It is fastened below the knee with a strip of fabric. She wears a turnshoe with a buckled strap. End ID]

Eighth slide: Accessories

These are a few other items that might have made up a working woman’s outfit.

Aprons would definitely have been used while working. One were just a large rectangle of cloth tucked into the belt, some were smocked to draw in the fabric. They generally stopped at the waist.

[Image ID: a woman in a red dress, with a very light brown apron. It is smocked at the top, and is attached around the waist with a string. End ID].

Pretty broaches and other jewellery existed! There was cheaper stuff made of pewter for the lower classes.

[Image ID: five gold brooches, studded with different jewels and pearls. End ID].

They had a funny sense of humour as well… and they weren’t all prudes.

[Image ID: a pewter broach of a cat carrying a dick and balls in its mouth. It is captioned “you can actually buy these. I know a website.” End ID].

Eating knives were worn on the belt, though it is debated whether women would have carried one. I do because I’m a modern fourteenth century woman.

[Image ID: a small knife with a wooden handle, laying on top of a leather sheath that has been dyed red. End ID]

Belts are a curiously debated topic. Some people reckon that women would have definitely worn them, others say they they weren’t used by women much at all. As far as I know there are depictions of both, so choose what you’d prefer. They are great for hanging stuff on I gotta say.

[Image ID: a coiled up brown leather belt. The buckle and tip are a gold metal, and it has decorative flower studs along its length in the same metal. End ID]

Pretty little purses would have probably been worn. I don’t know enough about them to say anything else though.

[Image ID: two different pictures of reenactors wearing purses. One is brocade and the other a red fabric. They are in the shape of an upright triangle, and both have five tassels hanging from the bottom edge. They hang off the belt with long drawstrings. Unrelated to the purses, one of the women is wearing a gorgeous orange liripipe hood, that is embroidered and dagged on the bottom skirt edge. End ID]

Ninth slide: Fancy Shmancy

There is a lot I haven’t covered, especially in the realm of the upper classes. Here is some of what has been missed. (Buckle up because this section is very image heavy. I will be as concise as possible).

Heraldic dresses! If you are interested, go check out Morgan Donners video on YouTube.

[Image ID: a picture of Morgan Donner in her heraldic dress. One half of the dress is red, and the other is green, except for where it has been cut out by white with an ermine pattern on it. Her hair is unbound and uncovered, except by a small flower crown. It is captioned “Morgan bestie do your hair properly :(“. End ID]

[Image ID: a drawing of two women in heraldic dresses. The first has a blue right half with a yellow printed design. The top left of the dress is yellow with a blue fish, and the bottom left is red with a white fish. Her train is held by the second lady, who’s dress is blue on the right, and white with green birds on the left. End ID].

Fancy headpieces for rich bitches only.

[Image ID: a reenactor doing a high class impression. Her hair is bound up in Pearl studded hair nets on either side of her head like modern earmuffs, with a spiked coronet around her brow. She has a sheer silk wimple on. End ID]

Fancy dagged edged on hoods, sleeves, dresses, etc.

[Dagging description: where the edge has been cut away to make decorative dangly bits. One hood has red leaves around the bottom edge for example, and another just has a pretty geometric pattern. End description].

Brocade gowns! So pretty!

[Image ID: several different pictures of high class ladies wearing brocade gowns of different colours. These are similar to the wool dresses we were looking at earlier, but with longer trains, and often long draping sleeves. There is even a brocade surcoat. End ID]

Fancy sleeves!

[Image ID: examples of different long sleeves. On some, the sleeve is normal until the elbow, and then it falls away to a long strip of fabric that dangles to the ground. Not mentioned on the slide itself is tippets, which was a band of (usually white) fabric just above your elbow, with a thin strip of the same fabric that draped down to the floor. End ID].

Dresses that were two different colours.

[Image ID: examples of dresses that are exactly like the earlier wool dresses, except they are literally half one colour and half another. The manuscript example is a blue and red overdress with fancy sleeves, and the reenactor example is a yellow and green underdress with a red hood. End ID]

And of course, some of the funky fun fabric choices.

[Image ID: a manuscript depiction of a woman carrying a dead bird. Her hood is red and white striped horizontally, and her dress is dark and light blue striped, also horizontally. End ID].

[Image ID: a manuscript depicting a woman talking to a second lady in a chair. The dress on the first has horizontal stripes of white, red, yellow, and blue, repeated, and the second has horizontal stripes of white, pink, and light blue. Interestingly enough the latter colours are very similar to the transgender flag which would make a very cool dress project. Hmm. End ID].

Tenth (and final) slide: In summery

(Small red text below title reads “I hope you have enjoyed” with a drawn smiling face).

Dis you notice all the “usually” “commonly” and “often’s” in there? That’s because I cannot possibly illustrate everything that we know of the time in only ten slides, nor do I know everything, so I have just tried to show what seems to be the most depicted.

Note: I probably even got some stuff wrong by the way.

If you’re interested in this stuff, I really recommend doing your own research now! Hopefully I have given you a good overview of what a fourteenth century womens outfit might have looked like, so now you can go fourth and know what you’re looking for.

If you have any questions about costuming, reenactment, or anything else, feel free to contact me!! I respond on Timblr decently fast ☺️

[Image ID: a reenactor sitting on a log, staring into the distance with a slight smile. She is wearing a grey-blue dress, belted at the waist with a small purse dangling from it. She has a dark blue cape and a light blue hood, that has fallen back to show a ruffled white veil. There is a pewter broach on her hood. A leather turnshoe peeks out from beneath the hem of her dress. End ID]

A list of helpful YouTubers:

Elin Abrahamsson

Morgan Donner

Opus Elenae

Miss Joss (her instagram is more active).

Now go hydrate!!

[Image ID: a woman in fourteenth century garb drinking from a jug. End ID]

[lemon-lime-limbo]

𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 | 𝖆 𝖇𝖓𝖍𝖆 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

pairing: shōto todoroki x gn! reader

warnings: kissing, reader is gender neutral (no pronouns used), slightly emotionally vunerable todoroki, insecure todoroki, very sweet fluff, innocent romance

genre: fluff oh my god

word count: 2.5k

note: bruh i never expect these to be so long but i start writing and can't stop LMAO anyway todoroki is sooooo yum and also i live for "we have to stay warm" scenarios so... that plus his heat quirk... enjoy!

The winter was supposed to be over; snow turned to slush as the sun did everything it could to melt it all. But night came with freezing temperatures, turning slush into ice underlayers for the new snow to pile on top of. At the start of the winter, it was soft and powdery, but as the season matured, it became thicker, denser, piling into nigh impenetrable snow mounds and filling up every driveway and street until plows came to get rid of it all. They weren’t always successful, so UA elected to cancel classes for the week, deciding it would be better to allow the students a break, both for morale and to prevent any issues from the snow.

Back at the dorms after extra training, you shook ice and snow off your clothes as you left your shoes by the door. Changing clothes was your first task, replacing a sweaty gym uniform with a clean shirt and plaid pajama pants. Even with the cold outside, the dorms stayed warm and the heating system worked overtime to combat the falling temperatures as night came.

Now, you join your classmates in the common area, tuning in to whatever movie they were watching after squishing yourself onto the couch among Mina, Tsu, Jiro, and Hagakure, at Mina’s invitation, trying not to bump Denki, who sits on the arm of the couch right beside you. The others are scattered on the floor beside the couch, engrossed in the action movie on the screen.

A hand bumps your foot as you try to get comfortable. “Oh, sorry.” You look down to see Todoroki sitting below you, back up against the arm of the couch, his arm grazing your leg. He doesn't look at you, so you stay quiet, ignoring how hot your face gets.

You’re the first to admit the movie’s pretty lame, bad CGI paired with a weak plot, but to you, getting to spend time with your classmates is more important than the movie. Everyone else seems to enjoy it, even with Denki’s stage-whispers of, “What just happened?” and, “Who is that guy again?” that somehow make the movie more entertaining. 

Snow falls in thick, wet flakes outside the windows, piling onto the small ledges until everything is covered in white as far as the eye could see. You glance again, but you can’t see anything through the flurries whipping around in turbulent circles just outside the building. The lights in the common area flicker a few times, earning a few groans from the others as the movie flickers along with them. 

The movie wraps itself up, a satisfying enough ending even for an unsatisfying movie. Mina shuts off the TV, leaving the couch to stretch. “Well, guys, I’m beat! I’m outta here,” she says, wandering down the hall to her room. “Night, everyone!” Most of the others follow her, yawning as they say their goodnights and leave to their rooms.

You and Todoroki are the only ones left, you still on the couch, and him standing about a foot away, stretching with a sigh. His plain black shirt rides up as his arms reach above his head, exposing the waistband of his own pajama pants just below his toned stomach. You’re thankful he stays turned away, embarrassed by your own inability to keep your eyes to yourself. His training has done him justice, He checks his phone and puts it back into his pocket. “I’m heading out, too. See you tomorrow,” he says, always polite. 

You yawn in response. “Probably smart. I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Todoroki.”

“Goodnight.” He disappears down the hallway, leaving you to your own devices, alone in the common area. 

Your face is hot, even now that he’s gone. Most of the girls in class 1-A agree Todoroki holds the spot for the most attractive boy in the class, and his polite yet relatively aloof demeanor keeps him there. It isn’t like you aren’t friends, so conversation between you isn’t out of the ordinary or shocking, but it still makes you nervous to talk to him. And it especially makes you nervous to be alone with him.

Heaving a sigh, you take the elevator to your room. It’s not very productive to stay awake just thinking about a classmate, so you decide to do some reading, taking a seat on your bed, grabbing your blanket and draping it over yourself. 

A low hum echoes through your room as the lights flicker before cutting out completely, leaving the room in pitch black darkness, save for the faint moonlight coming through your small window. 

Oh, shit. That’s not good. 

You scramble for your bookmark and set your book down, still wrapped in your blanket as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. You continue to wait for the power to turn back on, eventually pulling out your phone to pass the time. 

But as the minutes tick by, it’s impossible to ignore the chill in the air. The heat turned off, judging by the silence, and left the dorms with no source of warmth to protect against the bleak weather. That’s really not good.

With no signs of the power returning, you groan, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. What should you do? You can practically see the frostbite forming on your skin as the cold makes its way through your thin blanket. It’s too bad Denki already went to bed a while ago, so you doubt he’s still awake to restart the power. 

The dark doesn’t help, and you’re frighteningly alone in your quiet dorm. You turn on your phone flashlight, but you know the weak battery won’t be enough for even another hour. You wish you brought something battery powered to light your room, but you didn’t think that far ahead.

You shut your door tightly behind you as you tiptoe down the hall to the stairs beside the elevator. Hardly anyone ever uses them, but there’s a first time for everything, you suppose. The icy tiles freeze your slippered feet as you walk. Crisp air burns your nostrils as you grip the railing, fingers turning white as the frozen metal draws heat from your skin. The flight of stairs to the fifth floor is much more tedious in the dark, your phone flashlight illuminating every step up.

Reaching your destination, you knock gently on the door, hoping your target isn’t asleep.

No response. You turn to leave, but to your surprise, the door opens, revealing Todoroki. Behind him, soft orange light flickers onto the walls. “Yes?” he says. 

“I, uh- was just wondering if you had a candle you could spare me? Because the power, y’know… Well, I figured if anyone would have one, it would be you!” The chattering of your teeth apparently makes you talk a lot, and you have to clamp a frozen hand over your mouth to get words to stop falling from your lips.

He shakes his head, much to your dismay. “No, I’ve only got one, and I’m using it.”

A shiver runs down your spine in the cold hallway. “Oh, that’s okay! Sorry to bother you!” You move to leave, but a warm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“If you want, you could stay here,” he says. “I don’t have any idea how long we’ll be without heat. Or lights. And, I think we’re the only ones still awake.” He steps back into his room. 

Your eyes widen, but you go in regardless, feet padding on the tatami mats. It’s still chilly in here, much like your dorm. You’re grateful, however, for the light from the candle and also for his hospitality. He motions to the bed in the corner, gesturing for you to sit. “Thanks, I really didn’t want to just hang out by myself all night,” you say, perching gently at the foot of his bed. “It’s scary with no light.”

“No plans on sleeping?”

You breathe a laugh, fiddling with the hem of your plain shirt, though your fingers are sluggish.  “Can’t really sleep when blankets won’t do much for an eternal cold.”

He sits down on the bed too, but cross-legged at the other end from you. If you weren't so tense, you might have laughed at his respectful nature.  Nodding in understanding, he says, “Ah. I guess it is quite cold.” 

It makes sense he didn’t notice. “What about you, Todoroki?” you say. “Burning the midnight oil?” 

It’s hard for either of you to ignore the chills that wrack your body, even as you try to stabilize yourself. His eyes widen momentarily, and he stares at you, head tilted. To deny that his room is becoming colder would be impossible for you. It’s like someone opened a window to let more air in, because there’s no way the rooms should lose heat this quickly. You rub your arms, trying to bring any amount of blood flow back. And not to mention the flutter in your stomach at the fact that you are sitting on Todoroki’s bed, at night, alone, something that your female classmates would squeal at. 

He seems largely unaffected by the temperature and you being here, but that look on his face remains. Why is he looking at you like that? But he still doesn’t respond to your question, leaving you to clear your throat and try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? Is it too cold in here?” he says.

Your head snaps up before you shake it vehemently, waving your hands in the air in front of you. “No! No, I’m fine! R-really, don’t worry about me.” Your feeble attempt to reassure him is admirable, but he’s not convinced.

“Come here,” he says.

You laugh awkwardly, your breath forming a cloud of condensation in front of you. “W- um, what?” You stumble over your words, and you pray he thinks it’s just the cold. 

“You’re losing a lot of body heat, and even without light I can see your lips are turning blue. So, come here.” He holds his hands out to you and stretches his legs, staring at you expectantly. 

All the remaining heat in your body goes to your cheeks.

Every thought in your head runs rampant as your stiff body crawls over to Todoroki. His hands meet your shoulders, pulling you between his knees with your legs slung over his right thigh. Your side presses into the left side of his chest and his arms wrap around you.

His heat pervades your body, and you shiver in his grasp. Jesus, he’s so warm. Even in the dead of winter, he’s burning hot like sand on a beach in summer, and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

“Is this better?” he asks, breaking the silence. Probably an obvious question, but you’re sure his polite nature made him ask anyway.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yes. Thank you.” Your body warms up, heat blossoming beneath your skin where his body meets yours.

But, as you bring yourself to look up at him and your eyes meet, you’re acutely aware of his hands on your waist, and the way the light from the solitary candle dances on his face, illuminating the jagged, reddish-brown scar that expands over the left side of his face. And his smell — warm and intoxicating, it infiltrates your brain until it short-circuits. Becoming bold with your newfound warmth, you reach a hand up to touch him, but something flashes in his eyes and his hand grips your wrist in an instant, pulling your hand away and making you gasp softly.

His eyes widen and he releases you. “I’m- I’m sorry…” he murmurs.

Hesitant fingers reach again, and this time, your hand connects with his face. His breath hitches reflexively and his eyes dart away from yours in shame. You swear you’ve never seen him like this, so unguarded. You run your fingers over the edge of his scar, where smooth skin meets raised. It’s mesmerizing you think, the way the discoloration feathers out, harsh and delicate edges alike making up the left side of his face. Your palm moves to his cheek and his gaze meets yours again. 

The sight is like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless as he stares into you, your hand on his face. One brown eye, dark like freshly-brewed black coffee, warm and inviting. The other, blue and glacial, like a cold winter’s night, much like this one. The dichotomy was almost laughable as his blue eye was more akin to night and the other, like day. 

Your other hand meets his face and you bring him closer to you. Inches apart, your eyes flitter around his face. Your fingertips slide into his silken hair, making his grip on your waist tighten, palms sweating over your shirt. 

“You’re beautiful, Shōto,” you say, and that’s all it takes.

His lips meet yours, unexpectedly gentle, and you can’t help but sigh. Your lids flutter closed and you’re ascending, heart beating out of your chest as you’re convinced heaven is real. Tangling your fingers into his hair, he groans into you and his hands leave your waist for the first time in a long time. You try to keep track of them, but they’re all over you, leaving trails of fire in their wake. No inch of your skin goes untouched, he makes sure of that.

Oh, god. This can’t be real. You can’t help but think of what your classmates would say if they knew you were here tonight. But, on the other hand, what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? 

It’s like he’s a different person, his usual detached persona gone in favor of a gentle, kind boy. He’s careful with you, hands never straying too far downwards as if he’s afraid you’ll brave the frigid halls just to get away. You wish you could tell him you wouldn’t leave, that you won’t, but your desire to keep his lips on yours is all-consuming. He’s addicting, and you can’t seem to get enough. His scent, his taste, everything about him is addling your brain, your only thoughts of this moment, right now.

You move so you’re facing him, kneeling between his legs, no longer in need of the warmth he so graciously gave you. His fingers grab at the hem of your shirt, snaking underneath it to feel your bare stomach, lingering on your hips. You whimper softly into him, and you move to take your shirt off.

Lips leave yours. “Stop,” Todoroki says, and your eyes snap open. 

“What’s wrong?” you say, wiping drool off your lips. Did you do something? Did you misread him? Oh, god…

Hands on your shoulders, he sighs. “I don’t want you to think this was my intention.”

You tilt your head at him. “You mean you didn’t… want to kiss me?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I… I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you. You didn’t come here for this. I was only supposed to keep you from freezing to death and now-”

“Stop it,” you say, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. “I don’t think that about you. I came here for a reason, yeah, but… you are keeping me from freezing. But, if you want to stop, we can.”

“I don’t want to.”

At this moment, you knew you were going to have a lot to explain in the morning. 

[pomefioredove]

Hi !! I love your writing! I think you've nailed the twst characters personalities really nicely <33

So if possible, I'd like to have some hcs Sebek, Ruggie, Jack, Jamil and Deuce would realize that they have a crush on the reader (in which the reader is basically their closest friend atp) and how'd they'd react to it. Would they be the type to shove it back down or get it over with? Something else entirely, maybe??

Hope this isn't too much. Thank you in advance! Take all the time you need!

hii first off thank you so much!! <3 and ofc ofc I LOVE pining (and friends to lovers?!)

pomefiore part

summary: how they would have a crush on you type of post: headcanons characters: deuce, jack, ruggie, jamil, sebek additional info: romantic, reader isn't specified to be yuu except in sebek's part because I found it funny, reader is gender neutral, deuce is a cutie patootie

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

oh, he is in utter turmoil about this

on one hand: he really, really likes you

you're such a wonderful person

the kind of partner he'd be proud to introduce to his mom

on the other hand...

he really, really doesn't want to mess this up

you already have such a great thing going on as friends!

if he ruined that, he would literally never forgive himself

and Ace would make fun of him for it until the very end of time itself

so, of course he just sits on these feelings. maybe if he focuses on something else, they'll go away?

spoiler alert: they do not

they definitely do not

if anything, trying to ignore them just makes it worse for him; suddenly he's becoming an entirely different person around you

it's like a switch is flipped the second you're in the room

he becomes clumsy, easily flustered, can barely string a sentence together

Ace gives him hell about it, of course

and when there's no hope of hiding it any longer, he just confesses

(not that it wasn't obvious already... but for his sake, you'll have to pretend like it's shocking news)

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥

he's actually... pretty upfront about it?

once he's got his feelings on the matter sorted, anyway

...which takes him a few weeks

when he first recognizes his crush on you, he pours himself into his training

not as a distraction, really; he just finds it easier to think when he's working out

he really does want to think this one through

much like Deuce, Jack understands that he'd put the friendship at risk if he were to confess

unlike Deuce, however, he's somewhat aware that ignoring and hiding is a coward's way out, and will only push you away

so, once he's very sure about his feelings, he confesses

it's not exactly like a confession, though

more of a... lecture?

just informs you that he's developed feelings, doesn't want them to affect the friendship, and leaves the decision up to you

won't freak if you don't reciprocate, but... he might be a little bummed out

okay... more than a little

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

first thought: he doesn't have time for this

Ruggie has a job, school, and a whole neighborhood to feed back home

now a partner? no, that's completely out of the question

besides, it's not like you'd ever reciprocate. who'd wanna spend every date eating dandelion salad?

no one, that's who

of course he doesn't bother asking, but he assumes that goes without saying

but he's busy enough to put those feelings on the back burner and deal with them some other day

...if only he wasn't so distracted by thoughts of you, that plan might have worked!

by his third slip-up, Leona's had enough and demands he's gotta sort out whatever's bothering him if he ever wants to show his face there again

(he might've been in a bad mood)

but, unfortunately, Ruggie knows he's right

it's better to be rejected now than to spend the rest of his school days mulling over it

so, he just spills the beans, as plain and simple as possible

tries to walk away as soon as he's done so he doesn't have to see the look on your face

you can imagine his surprise when you pull him back

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

actually has a pretty similar reaction to Ruggie

Jamil can't possibly fathom having a partner in a world where he doesn't even have his own freedom

in a sense, he just doesn't want to drag you into his life

in another, more important sense, he would be devastated if you rejected him

so he just... ignores it

of course, Jamil knows that pretending the feelings aren't there won't do much, but he doesn't really have a lot of options

he's not one to talk through his feelings, after all

not that anyone asks...

and his ability to interact with you as if nothing is different is astonishing

even if it feels like he's melting inside

though, you may catch him smiling more at you these days

he just can't help himself

when he's got his other stuff sorted, you'll be next on the agenda

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤 𝐙𝐢𝐠𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭

you claim to have no magic, and yet you bewitch him into caring about you just as much as his liege?!

well... maybe not as much...

but close! very close!

even admitting that to himself feels like high treason

nonetheless, you have to be something very special to distract him from what he calls his "true purpose in life"

he sees you and feels... ill?

he's light-headed, he's dizzy, his stomach feels funny...

and he's been thinking about you more so than usual

yes, you're friends... he'll even admit he's grown quite fond of you in comparison to the other people you call "friends"

but this is... unusual

surely, you've placed some kind of curse on him!

Silver is the first to hear about it

poor boy is too tired to deal, and so he passes on the problem to Lilia

who just chuckles and makes a lot of odd references and metaphors that no one of this century would understand

no, Sebek has to come to the conclusion that he likes you all on his own

(like-likes you)

and after some pestering from Lilia, he admits that perhaps you and he could protect Malleus... together!

(he's going to have to work on the wording of that confession)

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

[xomakara]

Making Music

SUMMARY |  You and Johnny are rival music professors who are forced to work together on a joint project. Through the process, you get to know each other better, eventually giving into the attraction you have for each other.

PAIRINGS | Johnny x Reader

GENRE |  college!professor!Johnny, college!professor!Reader, college au, co-worker trope, rivals to lovers, smut

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, drinking, protected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), slight fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (f. and m. receiving/giving), praise kink, pet names, couch sex, multiple positions

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  10,031 words

TAGLIST |

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Another college au to add to my many NCT college aus I have lol. But this time, both are professors. I hope this turned out well. I'm always a tough critique of my own work lol. I hope you all like this!

You watched as the students in the Music Department made a buzz when they heard of the joint project that would happen during the year's second half. It wasn't unusual to have a joint project. It has been done a few times between departments. The students didn't seem to have any issues working with each other. It was more like the teachers were having a problem.

Well...more like you and Johnny Suh having issues.

Scratch that…more like you had problems.

You were the Music Business Professor and he was the Music Production Professor. You both were popular with the students and you were the two best in the department. So it wasn't a surprise when you both were put in charge of this project.

The Music Production students would be involved in all creative and production sides of things while the Music Business Students would take the business side. You both would have your classes work together as you worked alongside them.

You and Johnny had been rivals ever since you got this job. The reason is because you both have the same skill sets. You could have been teaching music production and Johnny could have taught music business but you love the business aspect. Johnny on the other hand would rather have his hands dirty with the music itself.

When you first met Johnny, you didn't expect him to be a professor. He didn't look or dress the part. You thought he was a graduate student but then you were informed he was the teacher. It surprised you because he looked so young. But then again, he also thought the same of you.

That's how it all started.

You were surprised that Johnny could do everything he could. It was as if he knew all there was about music. He could sing, play instruments, produce, write lyrics, and could even dance. He could have been an idol or a professional musician but instead, he chose to become a teacher.

You both were so busy arguing with each other. The two of you were so passionate about music that it was hard to agree on things. This project had to be a success and the two of you had to be a team to achieve it. But that didn't stop the two of you from bickering over small things.

It didn't help that Johnny was so attractive. You hated how he could make a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans look sexy. You also hated how he could make his voice so low and sexy. But most of all, you hated how his voice turned so soft when he spoke to you.

You would catch yourself staring at him, getting lost in his beautiful eyes, and his handsome smile. You would get a warm feeling in your chest and you hated that feeling. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to dislike him. But he was so charming that you couldn't help but like him.

You tried not to get involved with your coworkers. Especially with Johnny. He was very much a flirt. You didn't know if he did it because he was attracted to you or because it was just his nature. Either way, it annoyed you.

You hated the fact that your heart skipped a beat when you saw him. You hated how every time you were close to him, your face would feel hot. And most of all, you hated how you couldn't stop thinking about him.

You had feelings for Johnny.

You wanted to tell him that you had feelings for him.

But what was the point?

You had a feeling he would reject you. He would probably say something like 'you're just another coworker'. You were sure that he wasn't the type of guy to date. If anything, he probably has many girls chasing after him. There was no way someone like Johnny Suh would choose someone like you over anyone else.

You had been sitting at your desk, grading some papers when there was a knock at your office door.

"Come in."

"Y/N, can we talk?" Johnny said, leaving the door to your office ajar.

"About what?" You ask, gathering your papers and shoving them in your bag.

"We have to get our heads together on this project. The semester is going by faster than we realize. I think we should start meeting more often to get the ball rolling. I would like for us to be on the same page. At least let's show our kids that we can work together. What do you think?"

Johnny is right.

"Fine." You muttered as you ran a hand through your hair. "You think we should also jump on this project with the kids instead of just sitting back and watching them? You know...be involved?"

Involved? Johnny was thinking of just overseeing the whole thing but maybe it would be better to join the kids in this. He's done this sort of project before but this time would be different. This would be the first time you would be involved in such a project and he would love to see you in action.

"Yes. That would be great. Are you sure though? You've never done this type of thing before. Are you up for the challenge?" Johnny asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"What the hell do you mean? Do you think I can't do it?" You said defensively.

"I didn't say that," Johnny replied. "It's just that this project would involve a lot of work. It would require long hours and dedication. It's not going to be easy. If you're not up for it, I won't force you."

"I am up for it, Johnny. You don't have to worry about me. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself." You replied.

"Oh yeah? Let's go, Y/N. Show me what you got." Johnny teased.

"Alright, let's meet after class tomorrow." You responded, trying to get the last word.

"How about we meet after class today?" Johnny offered.

"Today? No can do. I have other plans. Can't cancel." You responded.

"Other plans? What kind of plans?" Johnny asked.

"What kind? What's that got to do with you? Are you my mother? Am I not allowed to have plans on a Friday night?" You questioned defensively.

"Sorry, I was just curious. Forget I asked." Johnny replied quickly.

Johnny didn't want to admit it but he wanted to know what plans you had. Maybe you were going on a date? The thought of you going on a date with some guy bothered him. He didn't understand why it bothered him though. You were just another coworker. At least, that's what he told himself. But that was a lie. He liked you and he's had feelings for you since you met.

He tried not to think about you too much. But lately, it's gotten harder not to do so. Whenever he closes his eyes, your face is all that he sees. He couldn't believe a coworker, a girl who was so focused on the academics of the music business, could be so beautiful. But she is. She is beautiful in her own way. She doesn't need flashy outfits or tons of makeup to shine. Just her smile, her beauty, and her passion alone were enough to win him over.

So here he is, standing in front of the girl he likes. Asking her what plans she had on a Friday night.

"You know what?" You looked up at him. "Why don't you join me tonight? I was going to get drinks with some of our coworkers but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you joined us. What do you say?"

"I guess I can join you. It sounds like fun." He replied.

"Great. Just don't bring the mood down, ok?" You laughed, turning off the lights.

"Hey, I'm not a party pooper. I know how to have fun." Johnny scoffed.

"We'll see." You smirked.

"You invited who?" Doyoung asked, eyes wide.

"Johnny." You repeated. "I invited him. Is that a problem?"

"I didn't think you two would get along." Jaehyun chimed in. "I thought you hated each other."

"It's not that I hate him...it's just...ugh, you know what? Forget it. He's coming and now I have to act like his handsome face isn't making me feel weird." You groaned.

"Ohhhhh... So you like him." Hendery teased.

"Don't even go there, Hendery. Just pretend like you never heard me say anything." You responded, your cheeks beginning to feel hot.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Oh, hey Y/N." Kun waved.

"You're not late. Johnny isn't here yet." You answered.

"Oh, Johnny's coming? I thought you hated him." Kun wondered.

You slammed your head against the table and groaned. Why the fuck did everyone keep bringing that up? Did you not invite him? What would the reason be?

"She doesn't hate him." Hendery teased.

You rolled your eyes. "Can you not, please? It's bad enough you're all ganging up on me. I'm the one paying for all your drinks so can you all just leave me alone?"

"Ok, ok. We'll stop." Kun raised his hands up. "We won't mention Johnny."

"Thanks, Kun." You smiled.

"Unless..." Kun whispered.

"KUN!"

"Hey guys." A familiar voice interrupted.

You all looked over to see Johnny smiling and waving at the group. You felt a blush rise on your cheeks as you saw him approach you. Why did he have to look so good all the time? He was wearing different clothes than what he wore at school. Decked out in a white t-shirt that hugged his bulging arms and a pair of dark denim jeans, he looked really good. He sported a pair of fashion frames and a bag that was slung over one shoulder. He was dressed down and casual and it made you want to drop to your knees.

What are these thoughts you're having?

You shook your head, snapping yourself from the image of you on your knees sucking Johnny off. You gave yourself a mental slap to stop yourself from looking at his bulge. You quickly made eye contact, hoping he didn't notice you looking. He smiled at you, causing your cheeks to flush again.

"Sorry, I was driving around trying to find a place to park. Traffic is hell around here." Johnny stated.

"Don't worry, you made it. That's all that matters." You answered.

"Hey, Johnny. Thanks for coming." Kun smiled.

"No problem." Johnny smiled, patting Kun on the back.

You watched as he took a seat beside Kun. He smiled at the rest of the group before turning his attention to you. His eyes twinkled with mischief and you didn't like the way it made your stomach flutter. He sat back in his chair and put an arm behind his head. His shirt rode up slightly and you almost died at the sight of the v that was exposed.

God, give you strength.

You're going to make it through this Friday night with everyone without dying at the sight of Johnny Suh.

You can do it. At least you hope you can.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Johnny asks.

"Drinking," Doyoung replied. "A lot."

"Oh boy." Johnny chuckled. "Well, if you guys are drinking a lot, then I better drink a lot too."

"Yeah, that's the idea." Jaehyun laughed.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Johnny," Kun said. "Been awhile since we all got together like this."

"Now that I think about it, I've never hung out with both Johnny and Y/N at the same time," Hendery mutters. "It's usually one or the other."

"Is that so?" Johnny arched his eyebrow and turned toward you. "I didn't realize that."

"There's no big reason as to why. We are both pretty busy. Unlike you slackers, Johnny and I have classes to teach." You stated, jokingly.

"Ooooo, shots fired. She went there." Hendery grinned. "How do you counter attack, Professor Suh?"

"She's not wrong." Johnny smiled.

"Of course, he's going to say that. Y/N, I'm offended. I happen to be a great teacher in my vocal classes." Doyoung started.

"You sure the students aren't there to swoon over your voice? Cause every time I pass you, I hear all those gushes." You grinned.

"The voice of an angel," Johnny added. "His fangirls will always swoon for him. Can you blame him though?"

"See! Even Johnny gets me. I can't help that my voice attracts fangirls. It's not my fault they fall for me. It's a curse that comes with talent." Doyoung dramatically exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your drink. Everyone looked on as Doyoung continued to ramble on. They would interject with small laughs here and there, making the whole atmosphere light.

You ordered a few drinks and chatted with the guys. They were having fun, talking about the students and all the gossip in the faculty room. You couldn't help but laugh at some of the stories. You also enjoyed hearing Johnny talk about his students. He seemed like a great teacher and the way he talked about them with so much passion made you smile.

The conversation soon turned to the joint project. Everyone agreed that it would be a great opportunity for the students and the faculty. There would be a lot of learning and a lot of fun. You were excited about the project. You had a feeling it would be a great success.

The night was getting late and the drinks were starting to take effect. Your cheeks were flushed and you were feeling tipsy. You decided to call it a night. You needed to get some sleep. You said goodbye to the boys and headed home.

On your way out, you passed by Johnny who was waiting outside. He smiled at you and you couldn't help but smile back.

"What are you doing out here?" You ask.

"Waiting for you." He replied. "You can't go home alone. It's dangerous."

"I'll be fine. Besides, I don't live far." You argue.

"Then I'll walk you home." He offered. "I have nothing else better to do anyways."

"You don't have to. I'll be ok." You responded.

"I insist. I'll walk you." Johnny stated, following behind you.

"Okay, fine." You groaned.

You walked side by side down the sidewalk. It was a cool evening and the sky was clear. You couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. He looked even better than usual. You liked how casual he looked. It made him seem less intimidating. You knew it was wrong to think so but he looked absolutely edible in casual clothes.

"You look really nice." You blurted out.

"What?" He laughed.

"I said, you look nice." You repeated.

He looked down at you, a hint of surprise on his face. "Are you drunk or something? I've never heard you say anything nice to me before."

"No, I'm not drunk. I just..." You sighed. "You know what, forget it."

"Hey." He grabbed your arm. "Tell me."

"You look really good in those clothes. They fit you well." You tell him, the words coming out all mushed together.

"Wow." He chuckled. "Who would have thought you would ever give me a compliment."

"Don't make a big deal out of it." You said, quickly.

"Ok, ok." He smiled. "I'll take it."

The walk was a short one and before you knew it, you were standing outside your apartment building.

"Thanks for walking me." You mumbled.

"No problem." He replied.

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should ask him inside. You were feeling a little bold and you were sure that you wouldn't regret it. "You want to come inside?"

"For real?" Johnny's eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah. Why not? I think we could use a break from all the work we've been doing lately." You replied, trying to contain the eagerness in your voice.

"Why the hell not." Johnny smiled, stepping closer to you.

You lead the way up to your apartment. When you get inside, you kick off your shoes and throw your keys on the kitchen counter. You turn to look at Johnny who is looking around, taking everything in.

"This is nice." He murmured. "It looks like a great place."

"Thanks. Make yourself at home." You say.

Johnny walked through your living room to the sofa and sat down. You couldn't help but watch him. The way his muscular thighs filled his jeans was mouth-watering.

You head to the kitchen and open up the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"Sure." He nodded.

You grab a couple of beers and walk over to the couch. You hand him a bottle and sit down next to him.

"To the upcoming project." You raise your beer.

"To the upcoming project," Johnny replies, touching your bottle with his.

You clink bottles and take a swig of your beer. You set the bottle down on the table and sigh. "Man, I needed this."

"Yeah, me too." Johnny smiles.

"It's a lot to work out, but I think this project can be successful." You reply.

"It will be. It'll give our students and us a lot of opportunities." Johnny nods in agreement.

"They'll learn a lot and they'll have fun." You add, lifting your beer to your lips. "But mostly, they'll have fun."

"Sounds like my kind of project." Johnny laughs, tipping his head back to swallow some beer.

"I can't wait to hear some of the songs they make." You say the buzz of alcohol makes your head spin.

"Hopefully they aren't too wild." Johnny chuckles.

The two of you chat and finish your beers. You start to feel a buzz and begin to feel a bit braver than usual. You notice that Johnny is feeling the same, as his inhibitions start to lower. "You want another beer?"

"Yes." Johnny nodded. "Absolutely."

"Cool." You reply, grabbing both your empty bottles and getting up. You walk to the kitchen and place the empty bottles in the trash.  You grabbed two more beers, then headed back. You hand him a beer and sit down. The conversation turns to music.

"Have you ever written any songs before, Y/N?" Johnny questions, watching your every move.

"I have." You responded. "Back in the day."

"C'mon, give me an example." He laughs.

"Fine." You sigh. "Let me think."

You put down the bottle on the table and think about what song would be the most appropriate. It doesn't take you long to pick a song that you've had stuck in your head for days.

"Ok." You clear your throat. "I've got it."

"Well, go on then." Johnny urged you.

You take a deep breath, gather yourself, and begin singing the first few lines of the song. Your voice is soft and low as the words pour out. Johnny stares at you, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide.

"Shit..." he breathes out. "I...that was..."

"Yuck." You pout.

"Not at all. That was amazing." He compliments, running his hands through his hair. "Why do you even doubt yourself when you sound this amazing?"

"Come on, Johnny. Be honest. You could tell, I could tell...that didn't sound right." You muttered, suddenly feeling stupid.

"No, it did. It was perfect. Why haven't you shared these with anyone?" Johnny frowns.

"Because I know what it's like to be told your work isn't good enough." You sighed. "Why do you think I went the business route in music? I can't tell you the amount of times I tried and was laughed out of the room. Told I couldn't sing, had no talent."

"Bullshit," Johnny argued.

"Tell me about it." You muttered.

"Anyway," Johnny changed the subject. "We have been drinking for quite a while." He gestured towards the empty beer bottles on your coffee table.

"Are you getting tired already?" You asked with a sly smile.

"I'm not getting tired. Are you tired?" Johnny quipped.

"Me? No." You replied.

"Then, shall we drink some more?" He questioned.

"Sure. If you're up for it." You nod.

"Excellent, let's keep drinking." Johnny smiled, excitedly.

The two of you sat and talked about music. You shared stories of when you were starting out, and how much you struggled in those early days. Johnny told stories of his time in the music industry. He had experienced some great successes and some great failures too.

As the night wore on, the conversation grew more personal. You spoke of your insecurities and fears, your doubts and failures. You both opened up to each other, sharing your innermost thoughts, emotions, and hopes. You realized that despite the years of rivalry and hostility, you were more alike than either of you had realized.

At that moment, something shifted between you.

The air was electric, the tension palpable.

You looked at each other, a silent question hanging between you, waiting to be answered.

You looked at him with a mixture of longing and desire. His eyes burned into yours, an invitation and a challenge, an unspoken dare to take the next step, the next move. The moment hung in the balance, the world slowing to a halt as the weight of the decision pressed down on you, heart hammering, mouth dry, palms sweaty.

"Are we going to do this? The project? You and me?" You asked as your eyes searched his face.

The corner of his mouth tugged up. "Why not? I like a little challenge."

Your eyes moved across his face, trying to gauge the depth of his sincerity, the authenticity of his words. Was he being serious? Or was this just another part of the game?

You weren't sure.

His gaze was intense, the brown eyes beneath the rimmed glasses burning through you. His smile, broad and lopsided, inviting yet mischievous. You swallowed, your heart rate picking up pace.

Did you dare? Were you willing to risk it all for a chance to be with him? A chance to finally lay your heart on the line? To take a gamble and see where it led? Your gaze met his and there was a flash of hunger in his eyes, a spark of desire that made your breath hitch in your throat and your body tremble with need.

Johnny was the sexiest man you'd ever laid eyes on, but more than that, you felt something with him. Something you'd never felt with anyone else.

Johnny leans in.

There was no turning back now.

You lean in and close your eyes, lips grazing his in a kiss. It's gentle, tentative, the beginning of something new, something exciting. The taste of him is intoxicating, and you deepen the kiss, your hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

Johnny pulls back. "Y/N."

"Johnny," you breathe, and your voice is a soft, trembling whisper.

"Y/N, do you like me? Cause I like you, and I'm sick of dancing around each other." He tells you, his gaze unwavering.

"Yes," you manage to say and his lips curve upward.

He leans in again, and you close your eyes, the anticipation nearly making you tremble. His breath is hot against your face, and then his lips are on yours, capturing your mouth in a kiss so tender and sweet, that you sigh in pleasure, sinking into his arms, kissing him back.

"There's no turning back." He says. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you murmur, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

His lips are soft and warm and they move slowly over yours as his tongue teases at your lower lip. He slides a hand around the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, and pulls you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking yours in long, slow strokes. Your blood rushes through your body, heat pools in your core, and you feel weak in the knees.

It feels like a lifetime passes before you finally come up for air.

He rests his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours, lips parted.

You smile. "So..."

Johnny runs a thumb over your bottom lip and your cheeks flush with heat. "So."

Your heart is pounding against your ribs and you feel like you might pass out.

"Do you want to get dinner with me?" Johnny asks, and the smile on his face is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

"I'd like that," you whisper. "I'd like that a lot."

The next few days passed in a blur and now you were sitting in one of the lecture halls with the students.

The joint project was coming together quite nicely and everyone seemed excited about it. You and Johnny were working well together and you could see that everyone was learning a lot. You couldn't help but wonder why the two of you hadn't teamed up like this before.

"Professor," One of the students in your class spoke up. "I'm still surprised that you and Professor Suh are working together on this."

"Yeah, me too." A student agreed. "I didn't think the both of you would join us. I thought you'd just oversee the project like we've done in the past."

"I understand, guys. It is a surprise." You nodded. "But isn't it a good opportunity to see how the professionals do it?"

"It's great." The student beamed. "We are so lucky to have you guys join us. You guys are so awesome!"

"I couldn't agree more." Johnny smiled.

Everyone was impressed by how hardworking you two were. The two of you were so determined to make this joint project a success. You had been working hard and making sure everyone was on track.

It was like this for a few days until one day you and Johnny were in the Music Production room.

Johnny's desk is a mess. It's cluttered with papers and all kinds of different musical instruments. His laptop is in the center of it, with all of the documents and folders that you and Johnny had been working on scattered all over it.

You sit at the piano, going over some songs and working on a few chords when Johnny suddenly comes up behind you and bends over, putting his hands on the piano, his face inches from yours.

"What are you doing?" You ask, turning to look at him. "What if one of the students sees us?"

"We are working on a project, right?" He smirks. "Don't you think that it's important for the students to see their professors getting involved with the project? Besides, I'm keeping it professional during work hours but after hours..."

He leans in closer and you can feel his breath on your face. He stares at you with those beautiful brown eyes, his lips curved in a devilish smile.

"I can't wait until after hours." He whispers. "I can't wait to be alone with you. To finally touch you the way I've been wanting to."

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him. You can feel your pulse quicken as his words register in your mind. You stare into his eyes, your heart skipping a beat. That night when you invited him up to your apartment ended with dinner and kisses. That's all it had been since then, a couple of kisses here and there. Nothing else.

You wanted more though. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. To hear him call your name as he moves within you. His words echo in your mind and your core tightens at the thought of being alone with him. Your lips part and you lick your lips as you watch him.

"What are you thinking about, Y/N?" His gaze drops to your lips. "I can read it all over your face. I wonder what else is running through that pretty little head of yours."

"If I tell you what's going through my mind," You whisper, staring into his eyes. "It won't be professional, Johnny."

"Who said I was looking for professional?" Johnny purred, licking his lips.

The words have barely left his lips when the classroom doors open, and a student enters the room.

You and Johnny straighten up.

"Professor." He calls you and greets Johnny.

The rest of the students enter soon.

The class was going along great, as the students were diligently working on the assignment Johnny and you had given to them. The project was a mix of audio-editing and music production. You two would switch back and forth on who gave the lessons since Johnny was a Music Production major and you were in business, but it worked well because you knew about the production side and had an ear for good music. You watched Johnny explaining something to the class, admiring his handsome face, the shape of his full lips, the strength of his jaw, and the muscles of his arms as he gestured to something on the screen. He was wearing his signature plastic black glasses. Those damn glasses.

He noticed you and gave you a flirty wink and a crooked grin, knowing how good he looked and how much he was teasing you.

One of the students asked a question. "What are some things to watch for while mixing tracks for the final project?"

Johnny grinned. "I would be careful to make sure all tracks are at the proper levels."

You rolled your eyes, taking in his words, noting how his mouth formed each word, and how his voice seemed to caress the words as he spoke. You wondered briefly, if that voice held the same tone during other things he did, such as whispering, singing, or...more intimate activities. You cleared your throat, banishing those thoughts for now, forcing yourself to concentrate.

Johnny continued.

"Always use crossfades," he says, "and add panning to make it sound as natural as possible."

The students nod, seemingly impressed.

"Yeah." You nodded. "For a perfect mix, we must pay attention to all of those little things. You won't have time to do that in a club situation, or maybe even at a concert, but for this type of project, and in an acoustically friendly room, you have plenty of time to fine-tune it. What you produce today should sound good in a club, but it shouldn't be flat. Always make adjustments. Pay close attention to things like volume and bass and use equalization to set levels and frequencies, making adjustments until it's at an optimum level."

"Professor Y/L/N, you know a lot about production!" One student exclaimed.

"Hey, I have the same skill set as Professor Suh." You said in amusement. "Music is my passion just the same as his."

Johnny winks at you and says. "Well, that's all the time we have today, class. No classes tomorrow but on Monday, Professor Y/L/N will have a lesson ready for you guys. Have a nice long weekend!"

The students clapped their hands and nodded. You waved at them and told them to have a nice long weekend.

Once the last student was out of the classroom you gave Johnny a big grin, the kind that showed all of your teeth, and he returned it, chuckling and running a hand through his messy dark hair.

"You look exceptionally good today, Professor Suh." You laughed.

"Me? You should see yourself, Professor L/N. If I'm the finest-looking professor here, you are definitely second." He teased, offering you his arm, which you took, looping it through his, laughing as the two of you exited the classroom and began your walk. "So, what are your plans for this weekend?" He asked.

You had to think for a minute as the two of you walked through the campus to your usual meeting place, the university coffee shop, before responding. "Probably nothing...unless I can convince a certain professor that it's finally after hours."

"You know," Johnny began. "I might be convinced if the professor would accompany me to dinner."

You gasped in fake shock and he just winked at you. "Only if said professor brings a good bottle of wine."

"Sounds fair enough," Johnny replied. "Say, tonight around seven, your place?"

You chuckled, giving a little shrug, as the two of you walked into the coffee shop. It was empty aside from the two baristas who had their backs turned, chatting happily as they were stocking the display cases.

"I suppose we have a deal," you agreed, ordering the two of you coffee.

The day passed with meetings and grading tests until the clock showed seven o'clock. Your doorbell buzzed and your stomach did a flip as you pressed the button to allow him access. When he appeared, his knock sounded, and your hands shook slightly as you opened the door.

"Hey," he smiled. "I got a couple bottles of wine...and, something special."

"Something special?" You cocked your head. "You are already enough of a surprise, Johnny."

He lifts the bag with a laugh, taking the two bottles of wine out.

"Oh." You gasp, taking in the other object.

A box of condoms.

"You have a big head if you assume we'll go through all those condoms," you chuckle and hold the door open for him to enter.

"Better to have it and not use it than to need it and have it missing." Johnny places a light kiss on your cheek as he enters.

Dinner is a delicious meal made by Johnny and even though he is the cook, you help him serve. Johnny then fills your glass and settles across the table, waiting for you to sample the dish. Johnny is staring intently at your face when you take your first bite and his gaze turns amused and maybe just a tad smug when a moan slips from your lips.

The food is amazing. As he starts eating his meal, your brain wanders to thoughts of sharing more meals with him. Sitting at this same table eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sharing coffee and toast in the morning. Drinking smoothies in the kitchen while you cook or the two of you preparing the food together, hip to hip as the music is softly playing in the background.

After dinner, the dishes are left in the sink. You will take care of those later.

Instead, Johnny follows you to the couch with the bottle of wine in one hand, and two wine glasses dangling in the other. You settle on the couch and Johnny places the glasses and bottle on the low table in front of the couch. He fills both glasses and offers you one. You thank him and take a sip. The liquid leaves a sweet taste on your tongue and a pleasant warmth in your throat.

You settle yourself into a corner of the couch and he takes the other corner, stretching his long legs out in front of him and sighing, clearly relieved to be off his feet for a while.

"Dinner was delicious." You say softly, a slight blush tinting your cheeks.

"Thank you. I enjoyed cooking it for you." Johnny said, his eyes dancing with joy as you shifted in your seat a bit to take another sip of wine.

You find yourself holding his gaze, staring into his deep brown eyes, so full of life. You set your wine glass down on the table, careful not to spill it, and smile up at him.

"What?" He smiles, putting his wine glass next to yours, and looking at you.

"Nothing." You reach up to cup his cheek, his skin warm, and lean up, brushing your lips against his.

He moves slowly against you, his lips caressing yours and it feels so good. Johnny's hands rest on your shoulders. One slides down to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. His tongue grazes your lips and you sigh into the kiss, opening your mouth. His tongue slips inside to explore. You allow his tongue to roam your mouth before tangling your own with his.

This time Johnny moans and pulls your lower lip gently with his teeth, eliciting another sigh from you. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull away from him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He licks his lips and leans forward to give you a soft peck on the lips.

"Do you know how much I love kissing you?" He whispers.

"Yes." You giggle as you remove his glasses, holding them in one of your hands. You toss the spectacles behind you, and it falls on the coffee table. You slide your other hand into his messy hair, pulling his lips back to yours for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Now, we're getting somewhere," he chuckles.

"Mhm, yes." You stare at Johnny, tracing a line on the side of his jaw.

Johnny takes his fingers and places them beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet his. His lips meet yours and he kisses you softly, tenderly. When he breaks the kiss, his fingertips trace the outline of your lips, his brown eyes fixated upon them. His hands move up to cradle the sides of your head and he presses his mouth against yours once again. Your body shudders at the sensations that come flooding over you.

"Johnny..."

"Y/N..."

The whisper of your name causes goosebumps to rise upon the surface of your skin, a small gasp escapes your lips, a quick intake of breath, and a trembling breath follows. He breaks his mouth away, his breath heavy and deep. You run your finger lightly up and down the side of his neck, staring into his eyes. Your other hand slowly moves its way up his back, while the other holds the back of his head. His breathing grows labored as you do so, his lips slightly parting, revealing the faintest trace of a smile.

You begin to realize that there may not be any turning back for you. You may be committing yourself completely, fully, and without hesitation to a relationship with this man. The knowledge scares you but at the same time, the feeling is so right.

"Y/N..." With your name falling from his perfect lips, Johnny captures them again in another kiss, this time placing his tongue between your lips.

The pressure from his mouth is almost too much for you. A moan of satisfaction and desire passes your lips and mingles with the kiss.

Johnny begins to trail wet, feverish kisses down the side of your neck. Now and again he allows his teeth to graze the flesh, eliciting a moan of pleasure from deep within your being. His hands reach behind and grasp the zipper to your dress, pulling it down and allowing the garment to fall to the ground in a heap. You reached up and ran your hand under his white shirt and you could feel the heat of his toned stomach, and the contours of his chest. He helped you pull the shirt off over his head and tossed it on top of the pile of clothes that now lay beneath the two of you. Your own hands then began to work their magic, teasing his skin while unbuttoning his jeans.

Johnny then reaches for your bra, and you feel your face get flush when he snaps the hooks on either side and removes the garment. His hands then cup your full, round breasts, causing them to harden at the sensation, and a small whimper comes from your lips.

"Aren't you glad I brought those condoms?" Johnny chuckled.

"We're going to use at least one..." You laugh.

"And all the other rounds? What about then?" Johnny teased.

"Why are we talking when we can be doing other things, Suh?" You push him on the shoulder lightly. "Hmm?"

Johnny grins that wide-teeth-showing smile, and leans in, cupping your face. He leaves a peck on your cheek and moves his lips lower, kissing down your neck and to your shoulder.

"Ah, don't stop now." You close your eyes, leaning your head back, enjoying his lips' dance on your bare skin.

"Are you sure?" Johnny mutters against you, kissing below your collarbone. "Am I going to hear complaints when the students notice bruises on Monday?"

"I'm sure our college students do the same thing as we are doing, Suh," You let out a breathy sigh, pushing him back to sit on the couch before dropping to the floor, settling yourself in the space between Johnny's legs, which spread just for you.

"Not that I want to think of students when you're about to blow me," Johnny chuckles, fingers running through your hair. "I'd rather it be you on my mind."

"Yeah? What else is on your mind?" You ask, reaching to stroke his cock.

"What do you want me to say?" He purrs and his hand fists your hair.

You don't answer, instead, you trace the swollen, red head of his cock with your tongue before wrapping your lips around him, feeling how his hips move, trying to thrust deeper inside you. Your hands squeeze his thick thighs, urging him silently on and when you swirl your tongue along the head he gasps.

"What else?" Your voice is just a little above a whisper, teasing him by speaking while his length sits heavy on your tongue.

"How I've been wanting you? Fuck." Johnny groans when your head starts to bob.

You work his dick thoroughly, fondle his heavy balls, humming around the full length of his shaft while keeping steady eye contact.

"Shit." Johnny curses under his breath, closing his eyes, hand in your hair gripping a handful of it tightly and making a slight sound in the back of his throat.

He shivers, and you hear him hissing, and soon enough you feel your pussy clenching around nothing and juices leaking on the rug under you as you're not wearing your underwear and a small mewl comes out of you.

You then pull him closer against your face, taking him fully.

"Oh shit, that's good." He rasps.

You reach forward to rub his thigh, tracing the muscles that clench now and again beneath his warm, smooth skin. Johnny is a handsome specimen of a man. And he tastes and smells even better.

With another jerk of your mouth, you feel Johnny's fingers twist within your hair, causing your eyes to flicker shut. His body quivers as he lets out a low groan, his mouth open wide and the corners upturned slightly. You suck harder, bobbing your head quickly. Johnny moans, pushing your head further down onto his throbbing cock, trying his hardest not to be overly rough, or to release before he needs to.

"Baby, can I cum on your pretty face?" He mutters, using a gentle grip to pull your head upwards, looking deep into your lust-filled eyes.

Your jaw hurts, you're gasping, and you pull his cock free from your mouth with a wet sound. "Please."

"So good, baby girl. You look so good right now." Johnny grins as he looks down at you, his hand going to pump his shaft. He licks his lips, feeling that familiar heat coil in his abdomen. He jerks himself faster, looking you in the eyes, watching the way they seem to beg him. 

"I've wanted to see those lips of yours covered in my cum since I first met you." Johnny grits out, pumping his shaft harder and faster. "Want to see that cum dripping from that pretty chin of yours, hear your moans as you clean every drop up."

His words and his actions leave you desperate, so horny, and so, so needy.

"Fuck, baby, you're such a dirty, dirty girl," Johnny grunts, his balls tightening as he aims his cock toward your awaiting face. His orgasm washes over him in an instant. "Open up, I'm gonna give you what you're after, baby." 

He shoots ropes of his load onto your face, hitting your nose, lips, and chin. 

"Such a sexy little mess." Johnny rasped as he wiped the last of his cum across your chin with his thumb, rubbing it along your lips. "Swallow that up, dirty girl."

"Yummy," you said, swallowing the whole load, and licking his thumb.

His hand lowers, tracing down the length of your neck to rest upon your collarbone, his index finger hooking underneath to gently pull you toward him. "Won't you have more?" he purrs, his hand cupping your breast.

You place his fingers into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them, moaning as you suck gently, allowing them to graze the inside of your cheek. His smile turned seductive, his thumb dragging across his lips as you began to move, pushing yourself back toward the middle of the couch. You lean down toward his cock once more, licking, nipping, nibbling, and sucking on it, becoming lost in his moans and grunts.

"Just like that baby," Johnny purrs, running his hand through your hair. "Show me what a slut you can be."

Your hands move up and down the length of his shaft, and he lets out another loud gasp, throwing his head back against the cushions, his hands threading their way through your locks of hair. "F-fuck. Baby, you're s-so damn good. I need to f-feel you wrapped around me. Now."

You tilt your head and give him a devilish grin, crawling up his body, kissing him until you straddle his waist. You reached for the box of condoms and ripped the package open. Reaching for his cock once more, he groans loudly as you hold him firmly, stroking the entire length of him while continuing to kiss him. Once the condom was on, you reached behind yourself and grabbed Johnny's thick cock, and aimed it toward the opening of your pussy, lowering yourself onto him with a pleasured cry.

"God. Fuck, you feel amazing, Johnny." You sigh contentedly, slowly beginning to move up and down his solid erection. You plant your hands firmly upon his chest for support, your body grinding against him, setting your tempo and pace. His large hands, in return, wrapped around your back and gripped your sides as his hips began to buck with you, his groin moving upward, matching your tempo, driving his cock as deeply inside of you as he could.

"You really like it like this, baby? Good and hard?" Johnny grunted, as your bodies slammed together over and over again, the sounds of loud moaning and skin-on-skin contact filling the room.

"Fuck, yes." You cry, grinding your hips, tightening your pelvic muscles. Johnny growls as his hands travel to your ass, giving it a nice squeeze, guiding your movements against him.

"This is the most intense, sexual encounter I've ever had, and it's with a music professor," you pant, picking up speed. One of Johnny's hands tightens its grip, then slides up and down your thighs as he holds you in his lap. You reach up, entwining your fingers with his other hand, which rests atop your breast.

He guides your arm behind his neck, pulling you in. "Well my fellow music professor," Johnny said, looking deep into your eyes as you bounced up and down in his lap. He presses his mouth close to your ear and whispers, "...I could tell the same about you too," before bringing his lips back to yours.

"Have we become more than rivals?" You sigh when your lips separate.

"Yeah."

You never thought in a million years you'd hook up with one of your co-workers. Never thought in a million years you'd hook up with a music professor like Johnny. 

But yet, here you were.

As you walked through campus a few days later, you spotted Johnny heading towards the parking lot with some music equipment under his arms.

As usual, students flocked around him with smiles and hellos, not letting him out of their sight.

After you had successfully dealt with the students, who had gathered around and asked the inevitable question of: 'Are the two of you dating?' The topic of the question wasn't new to you, it seemed that students had come up with such an idea even before you had ever done anything together. Their questions were answered when Johnny placed the equipment down before leaning in to press a light, lingering kiss to your lips.

The students' eyes went wide in surprise. One of the guys whistled, and another wolf whistled. A group of girls were whispering furiously about how hot you two look, another saying that it took you long enough to go out with each other, the rest not believing the fact that you're kissing each other in front of everyone.

"Yeah, yeah. Your two favorite hot music professors are dating now. Get used to the idea, and move along." You laughed along with the students. Once they all disbursed, Johnny leaned in once again, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies when he pecked you on the lips.

"Happy now? Happy now?" You mutter against his lips. "Now the whole school is going to know we're together. I can hear the rest of the faculty members already, yapping their mouths off about it."

He rested his forehead on yours and let out a short laugh. "Hah! Like they could ruin this perfect moment." He rubbed his nose against yours playfully.

"They could try!" You giggled, pressing another quick kiss against his soft lips, then whispered, "Your place?"

He simply smirked, putting his equipment in the car. "After you."

His apartment was, dare you say it, perfect. The furniture was minimal, though there was a lot of electronics scattered around, probably expensive recording equipment. He had an incredible vinyl collection and a whole wall full of CDs and records. Everything about the place smelled and looked like Johnny; classy, expensive, cool.

"Wow, Johnny. How'd you ever find the perfect mix between elegance and laziness in apartment designing?"

"I'm just naturally awesome." He grinned, shutting and locking the door to the house. "Anyway," he set the instruments down by the door and made his way toward you, smirking devilishly. "How about you show me what kind of sounds you're into making first."

You felt his hand on your lower back, guiding you gently to his couch as he removed his coat, leaving the garment discarded in a pile on the floor. His hands slid around your hips, drawing you close to him, your bodies flush together. "Let me hear the pretty music you'll make just for me." He purred.

"As much as I would love to make music on your couch...I wonder how it will sound in your bed, Johnny." You gave him a smirk of your own as you caressed his cheeks with both hands.

"Good. Great even." He bent down to capture your lips in his as his arms slid under your thighs, lifting you easily. He carried you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Gently lying you down, you watched him peel off his shirt.

He's attractive in school clothes, you have to admit, but he's really gorgeous out of those clothes.

You knew your mouth was gaping slightly from looking at his abs and chest, and Johnny only smiled wider, removing the remainder of his clothing. You admired the definition of his ass as you felt yourself getting wet with anticipation, eager to feel him against you.

With one swift movement, he was hovering above you, lips on your neck as his hands roamed over your body. His fingers make quick work of the buttons of your blouse, moving downward until he reaches the button and zipper on your skirt. Soon, those were gone, and you were left with only a thin strip of material covering your modesty.

You bite your lip, unable to resist a whimper at the feeling of his breath against your bare skin, followed by the warm touch of his tongue. "Johnny."

A grin appeared, his teeth scraping lightly before his lips trailed back up your throat, nipping gently at your chin as he shifted. Johnny pulls you against his naked body, his lips trailing along your collarbone and stopping at your ear to suckle on the flesh, teasing it with his teeth. "That feels nice, but I want your mouth somewhere else." You giggle, sliding your panties off your legs. 

"Eager, are we, my sexy professor?" He smirked.

You prop yourself up, arms on the pillow under your head, and watch Johnny shift, kissing the side of your left knee before he moves down, planting soft, tender pecks along the inside of your thigh. The closer he got, the slower he moved. Every touch felt electrified, making you writhe beneath him as his eyes remained focused on the glistening center between your thighs.

When his tongue finally grazed your swollen, slick clit, you had to bite your lip hard. It took nearly everything inside you to keep from screaming. Your eyes widened, and a low, soft moan escaped from your mouth.

"Ah, I see. You like that." Johnny murmured, moving his hand, his lips gliding across your thigh until he found your need once more, kissing you long and slow.

Your arms tensed at your sides, balling into fists as you pulled at the sheet below you. Everything he does leaves your mind blank, causing all sorts of new sensations. A shudder ran through you, a gasp, and his name escaped your parted lips, making his touch linger.

"The pretty noises coming from your lips are like music to my ears." He smiles wickedly. "Music I would love to produce."

Johnny looks up, eyes meeting your gaze as he buries his face between your thighs, flicking his tongue back and forth quickly over your clit. He loves how you writhe beneath him. The sight and taste of you.

"Shit, Johnny." You moaned a little louder this time as your knees went weak at his touch, fingers curling tighter in the bedsheet.

"How do you want it?" His voice vibrating into you makes you arch your back.

You wrap one leg around his shoulder, bucking your hips, silently pleading for more. He wastes no time, picking up the pace of his ministrations, humming with each pass of his tongue. The sensation is overwhelming, and the world around you spins, making you cling desperately to the bedding, holding onto it as if your life depended on it.

The sounds coming out of your mouth become louder and louder, mixing with his humming and moans as his fingers join in the action. He works diligently at bringing your release, listening to the pleasured whimpers coming from you, and you won't last much longer before you're spasming, muscles tensing up in the euphoria, eyes rolling back as he continues licking and kissing.

When you finally collapse into the bed, your body shaking, a hand runs up your leg, and Johnny is crawling over you, pressing his lips to yours. He kisses your jaw, your cheeks, your nose, and your forehead, pecking your lips every so often.

"There's my pretty professor, so responsive. So beautiful." He whispers into your hair, hands still massaging your thigh. He reached over to his nightstand where a condom sat ready. Tearing the foil packet and rolling it down over his length, Johnny brushed the back of his fingers gently across the expanse of your inner thigh and settled them along your heat, rubbing you a few more times before shifting forward until the head of his length was resting right against your entrance.

Johnny had leaned forward and was now licking up the length of your neck before taking the skin between his teeth and giving it a harsh nibble. "Can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

You squirm and twist, letting his tongue snake its way into your mouth again as he gives your bottom lip another tug. Slowly, his tip began to push into you and it wasn't long before the entirety of his length was nestled snugly inside you, filling you to the hilt.

"Damn, baby," Johnny growled into your ear, as he rocked his hips forward to further bury himself inside. "How am I going to control myself with you gripping me like this? So tight." 

For a second, you two lock eyes and stare into each other's soul. Then, without warning, Johnny pulls his hips back and thrusts forward roughly, groaning into your ear at the motion. With the slowest, most deliberate rhythm, he pushes himself deep inside before pulling almost entirely back, the both of you grunting loudly from the pleasure that is running up your body in shivers, eyes scrunched tightly closed as he slowly, agonizingly begins to speed up.

"Fuck," Johnny groaned out, thrusting quicker now. Your ass was bouncing wildly on the bed, as you squeezed his waist with your thighs, wrapping your calves around his lower back.

His hips rolled fluidly as he drilled into you, burying himself as deep as your body would let him. Your screams became louder, echoing off of the walls in Johnny's room. Johnny grunted in satisfaction and gripped your breast in one hand as your back arched upwards, your mind spinning.

"Damn, baby. That's it. Take my cock deep inside that sweet cunt. Take it deep. Deeper. Deeper."

In an instant, Johnny is pulling his cock out of you, flipping your body so that you're belly-down against the soft mattress of his bed. His fingertips grip you tightly, almost roughly as he grabs your hips and thrusts into you again. He picked up where he left off, filling you completely once again before he pulled back and then shoved forward once more. His thick member slips further than you thought were possible, pushing roughly through your walls as they expand around him, allowing him to press harder against the perfect spot.

You gripped the sheets tightly once again, burying your face in his comforter as you began to feel your legs shake. A loud moan resonates throughout your body and travels out your throat. Johnny can't help but release a satisfied groan himself, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses and licks up your spine and to the back of your neck.

"Johnny...it feels so fucking good," you whined softly into the sheets.

"Shit... I know," he replies, sounding strained himself.

It doesn't take long for the pressure to build.

Panting and grunting, you both grew nearer and nearer. The tension inside you began to rise with each thrust. Your legs were already shaking in anticipation.

Your mouth opens as you let out a strangled, satisfied scream of, "FUCK," as the euphoric explosion of sensations starts to flood over you. Johnny groans loudly into the crook of your neck, his arms squeezing you close as he shouts, too, hips bucking desperately as he reaches his climax along with you.

Breaths come out labored.

Johnny pulled himself out slowly, careful not to make a mess. With shaking arms, he pushes himself up, tossing the used condom before plopping down beside you, arm wrapping around your middle.

He pulled you into his chest, cuddling you.

After the orgasm faded, his hand rested gently atop the curve of your hip as he rubbed his thumb gently over your skin, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

He hummed a soft melody against your skin and it made your chest hum pleasantly with adoration. You ran your fingers softly down his cheek.

"Hi."

"Hi. You doing okay?"

You turn, draping your leg over his body, and curl closer into his warm, soft embrace. You gently run your finger along his jawline and then caress his lower lip. His dark eyes focus on you with loving admiration and warmth.

"Mm, perfect," you smile.

He smiles back, leaning in and places his lips tenderly against yours, then closes the distance, kissing you again, and again.

Your rival has become so much more than that.

More than a co-worker.

You fell asleep cuddled in the arms of your new music partner and love.

[thehigherseekerastro]

Astrology Observations: Non-chart Edition 💻

This is just a quick post, a short list of astrology opinions – my own –, about the world of astrology online itself, not the actual placements described, but that I think are worth noting to help better analyze and understand the astrology content found on the internet. Enjoy!

(♠) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️) (♠️)

Beware of "roasting placements" posts –

regardless if it's on Tumblr, X or TikTok. Those are VERY broad "descriptions" (if we can call it that). Anybody who understands how astrology works would never generalize to such a level that they think they can roast an entire placement, as if there was only one possible manifestation for that placement. There's an entire chart that is very unique to everyone. Your (and other people's) chart can be set up in a way that makes you behave the complete opposite of that stereotype, so people can't just be accusing others of things without knowing them lol.

Not to mention that they are usually plain rude and ignorant for no reason, just to be spiteful.

Astrology is not "Projection Land" –

so don't use it to, nor fall for someone else doing it. It's nobody's excuse to trash their ex, their mother, the friend they had a falling-out with, through you, making you feel horrible about yourself, just because they are projecting their own feelings onto a particular placement.

So, yes, there are patterns to signs, placements and even elements, but that needs to be handled with a lot of responsibility. It needs careful analysis, and the person needs to be able to separate their personal grievances from the actual information before they vomit their disdain on the internet where anyone can see. I always make sure to include a blend of positive and negative POSSIBLE manifestations of placements, and I make that clear, so that people know it's a MAYBE, and also not about everyone. It's not to insult others, more so to inform them of what you should be aware of IN CASE THEY ENCOUNTER IT.

So the people who are like "X-Y-Z placements are TRASH!!!! I dated so and so and it went horribly blah blah blah"...

Keep on scrolling. Move along. They're bitter and they're either trying to make you feel horrible too or antagonize you against someone else. Remember: misery loves company.

Don't use astrology to save face either –

so don't be hyping up your own toxic trait that is in fact present to excuse yourself.

"Oh, Tauruses are stubborn," (stereotype) "but that's because they are consistent and see things through."

NO, BABY. Tauruses are consistent AND they can be annoying as hell with their stubbornness and acting a fool, but still refusing to act right. The two things can coexist.

If you happen to manifest one of the more challenging stereotypes of a placement, it's not there for nothing. It's a lesson for you to work on and heal as soon as you're made aware of it. So don't be using astrology to justify staying in your troublesome habits just because there might be a quality attached to it. That's not maturing and growing. Growing is realizing all things work in balance, and there's downsides and potential to most things. So hone the positive aspects of that placement, but continue to try to heal the challenging ones.

Avoid astrology content creators who use their blog/profile as their little Burn Book –

just attacking people and placements right and left. "This sign is manipulative!", "that planet in such house is a jealous and bitter person!", "females with such rising are fake!".

They don't know shit. They just want to air out their anger. If you absorb it, that's on you. So, if you notice somebody only has negative things to say all the time and never praises anybody... RED FLAG.

And yes, I'm also talking about the people who exclusively make content like "How will your relationship end based on your 12H in Composite", "Synastry aspects that indicate you will be cheated on", "Signs of a narcissist in a birth chart", and just overall fear-mongering and negativity.

Avoid astrology content creators who use their blog/profile as a space to boast and compliment themselves –

because it also happens often, and it's usually a combo with the previous one I mentioned above. They shit on everyone else, but the placements they love and praise are ~ coincidentally ~ their own.

If you see a take that starts with defending or praising a placement a lot and it is followed by "because we are...", I'd immediately log off.

It's one thing to speak from experience and empathize. It's another to be like "Virgos aren't judgemental, because I'm a Virgo and I'm the best person on the planet, you're the problem if we don't like you!"

Again, people who cannot be self aware should not be sharing advice or opinions on other people. They're attention seekers. And surprisingly, it's often NOT the people with Leo placements.

CAUTION WITH THIS ONE, as I'm making a broad observation that is not describing everyone, just a pattern I see often, but my perspective could be limited here –

like I said, from most problematic posts I've seen, and I've seen quite a few, it's not from people with the stereotypical "egotistic and self obsessed" signs, like Leo, or even other fire signs.

I've seen it most often happen with people over-praising their personal EARTH placements, and then attacking everyone else.

Which to me makes sense, because when an Earth placement is great, they're GREAT! But when they're not... Good luck convincing them that they are just a human being and aren't better than everybody else and always right. You'd have to be constantly hammering the cold harsh reality on their face 24/7 to keep them humble. (A job only fire sign placements are up to, bc they don't give a shit if you're offended, and don't get tired of having to fight to death).

Earth signs being preceded by fire signs means their need for validation and praise is often hidden from plain sight, but it's deep within them. And being opposed by water signs can mean falling into delusions of how they actually impact the outside world, often overestimating their value.

So if you mix that with the Earth practicality and pragmatism, it becomes very hard for them to see that they will not feel more in control if they criticize everyone else around. It's them judging themselves, but not knowing how to deal with that self-hatred, so they project it onto others. Just because one got a lot to say doesn't mean they should, nor that what they have to say is correct. People CAN be loud and wrong, and these types of folks over here on these posts often are.

The top 5 most judgemental and lacking self-awareness I've seen here on Tumblr are:

Virgo

Capricorn

Aquarius

Sagittarius

Taurus

Apply it to (rising, sun, moon, Mercury and Mars).

PS: This is very specific within the context of astrology content creators. I'm not saying all of the people from those signs and element are like that, or attacking them personally.

Women are not perfect. Men are not inherently bad –

so also be cautious of people who trash any type of men, regardless of their sign, planet or houses, but claim only the women of that sign are good.

Yes, we know that, systemically, our society is patriarcal and men's toxic behaviors tend to be encouraged, so it's not uncommon to run into issues with masculinity. Regardless of that, men are human beings. And so are women. Everyone has potential for good and bad inside them.

"Cancers - all the men are cheaters and manipulators! But the women are the sweetest people you will ever meet!"

No. Cancer when it's expressed in its most toxic side is highly manipulative and fake. Which is historically a "skill" used by women to survive in this world. So if you run into a "good Cancer man", he will be a light in your life. If you run into a "bad Cancer woman", that'll be even worse, because she will be a horrible person, all the while projecting an image of innocence and acting like she has no idea what you're talking about and is just a sweet victim.

(just look at Ariana Grande, for example, and her history of cheating on her partners with other men who were ALSO in committed relationships at the time, ever since she was 21, but she always tells her stories as if she's the one getting unfairly bullied and that people are making stuff up about her.

I'm not making personal judgements about her, because I don't know her personally. I'm just using her as an example of the same cheater-manipulator dynamic people attribute to all Cancer men, applied to a Cancer woman).

Use your critical thinking skills. Again, that's a projection. Specially if someone goes as far as making an extreme comment like "ALL MEN of the zodiac are trash"... That's clearly a lot of bitterness, hurt, and bad PERSONAL experiences, that they are now vomiting onto the internet.

Men and women are equally beautiful creatures, each dealing with their own sets of potential and challenges. Astrology doesn't pick and choose, and certainly does not care about hookup culture or the dissolution of human relationships in the 21st century.

Just because someone is talking about spiritual practices does not mean they are evolved –

anybody can talk about anything. That means nothing. Does not mean evolution. Does not mean maturity. Does not mean understanding. Does not mean knowledge. Does not mean awareness.

So don't think that just because someone has an astrology blog or they say they're an astrologer that means they are some evolved soul, wise beyond their years and with only good intentions. Oftentimes, people will obsess over analysing others to avoid taking a long hard look at themselves.

As I've given many examples here, many people can be using astrology to live out the most childish and troubled parts of their personalities and character. And instead of identifying those challenges in their chart – since they claim to be such fans of astrology – and working on them, they prefer to hop online and start pointing fingers at other people and their lives.

Now, let's also exercise our own empathy here and understand that sometimes those people themselves don't even realize their struggle. They're a human, after all. So it's up to you to curate what you consume and how you consume it. Don't discredit people's experience, but also, do a background check on the info before you internalize it, because a lot of the times people will be hurting you without realizing they're just looking for company in their sadness. They'll convince themselves they're helping.

Be conscious in YOUR OWN spiritual journey and learning. Know who YOU are. And then other people become helpers along your path, not the commanders of your destiny.

That is it, my dears. I hope this was clear to understand and it was helpful. Hopefully, it will aid in your understanding of things when you come across astrology posts online, leaving you less confused as to what is and isn't pertinent. And I hope it sends you on a path towards good and love.

Be well! ❤️

MASTER LIST

[eternaldecisions]

˙ . ꒷ slytherin!matt . 𖦹˙—

slytherin ! matt spots you at a party.

"Are you sure I should go to that party? I mean..." the words hang in the air, your hesitation palpable. The idea of the party itself wasn’t dreadful; it was what—or rather, who—you might stumble into that made you hesitate. The very thought of running into Matt sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to say his name, but before you could, Sarah cuts in, her voice a sharp contrast to your uncertainty.

"Please! It’s going to be fun, I swear. I’ll stick by your side the whole time," she promises with a grin that you recognize all too well. You wanted to believe her, but you knew better. The moment she caught sight of Regulus Black walking thru the door, the promise would dissolve faster than mist in the morning sun. Still, a small part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time she’d keep her word.

“And then, what should I wear?” you sigh, your voice carrying the weight of resignation. Your wardrobe isn’t exactly brimming with choices, and the thought of rifling through the same old options feels as tiresome as the decision itself.

Sarah, as the fashion enthusiast she, lights up at the question. "Let’s go for something that screams 'effortlessly cool,'” she suggests, already pulling ideas out of thin air. “How about those black plain skirt you love? Pair them with that silky white green top—it’ll make your eyes pop. And those ankle boots with the silver buckles? Perfect balance between edgy and chic.”

you picture it in your mind: the way the white would contrast against the dark material, how the boots would give you that extra edge of confidence. Suddenly, the idea of the party doesn’t seem quite so daunting.

the music thrums through the air, vibrating against your eardrums—louder than you'd prefer, but not unbearable. It’s a Hogwarts party, after all, and despite your initial reservations, it’s not as bad as you’d imagined. The Great Hall has been transformed into a pulsing sea of lights and sound, the usual grandeur swapped for a more chaotic energy that somehow suits the occasion.

tables are laden with a array of food—everything from pumpkin pasties to chocolate frogs—and a few scattered bottles of butterbeer and beers, a tame selection considering the strict no-hard-liquor rule for students. Not as that stops the Slytherins, you spot a few of them huddled in a corner, undoubtedly plotting their next heist from the staff’s private stash. But that’s a problem for another time.

“I’m going to grab us drinks, alright?” you say, your voice a little more confident than you feel. You make your way to the long, enchanted table draped with a velvet cloth that shimmers like the night sky. On it, bottles of Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and goblets of ice-cold pumpkin water are laid out, each drink sparkling under the floating candles that light up the Great Hall. You pick a goblet of pumpkin water for yourself and a frothy Butterbeer for Sarah—simple, but comforting.

as you reach for the drinks, your eyes wander, almost by instinct, to a corner of the hall where Matt stands. He’s draped in a black oversized hoodie, the silver horse pendant hanging from his neck catching the soft light, his black baggy pants and boots give him a rebellious edge that you can’t help but notice. You find yourself staring a second too long, admitting, despite your efforts to resist, that he’s not just good-looking—he’s more than that.

you find yourself drawn in, unable to look away, as if a spell has been cast upon you.

his eyes, sharp and almost hypnotic, suddenly catch yours. A jolt of panic rushes through you—how long have you been staring? Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warmth of embarrassment spreading as you realize you've been caught. His lips curl into a smirk, one that’s as much a challenge as it is an invitation. With deliberate steps, he begins to close the distance between you, his presence growing more potent with every inch.

the air seems to thicken as he approaches, the ambient magic of Hogwarts itself reacting to the silent tension. As he draws near, you can almost feel the energy radiating off him, a subtle mix of mischief and something deeper, something that pulls you in even as it warns you to stay away. His eyes never leave yours, and that smirk, oh, that smirk, it tells you everything and nothing all at once.

“How nice seeing you again, starer,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet drawl, smooth yet edged with teasing. He steps closer, far too close, the space between you shrinking to nothing. You roll your eyes at his comment, trying to mask the flutter of nerves his proximity forming within you.

“Does the cat always bite your tongue around me, sweetheart?” he mocks, his tone light but laced with something deeper, something that sends a shiver down your spine. With a practiced ease, he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin just long enough to make you tense.

annoyance flares within you, and you swiftly bat his hand away, breaking the brief contact. His touch lingers in your thoughts even as it leaves your skin. He chuckles, a dry, knowing sound that only deepens your frustration. The sound seems to echo in the quiet corridor, a reminder of the power he holds in these fleeting moments.

but beneath that chuckle, there’s something else—a challenge, a dare hidden in his eyes as he watches you, waiting for your next move.

you steady yourself, refusing to let him get under your skin any further. With a dirty look, you meet his gaze, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you reply, "I'm sorry, did you say something worth responding to?”

his smirk falters just for a moment, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before he recovers. “Feisty today, aren’t we?” he remarks, clearly amused by your defiance. But there's a spark of something else in his eyes now, curiosity, or maybe respect.

You cross your arms, standing your ground as you add, "I’m just not in the mood for your games, so if you’re looking for entertainment, you’ll have to find it somewhere else."

for a second, he studies you, as if reassessing the situation, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface. Then, with a low chuckle, he steps back slightly, giving you a sliver of space. “You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that,” he concedes, though the playful gleam in his eyes tells you he’s far from done. “But don’t think I’m letting you off that easily.”

his words hang in the air, a promise or a threat—you can’t quite tell. But as he turns to leave, that smirk still playing on his lips, you can’t shake the feeling that this is far from over.

you stand there for a moment, watching him walk away, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor. His parting words linger in your mind, swirling like a potion brewing with too many unknown ingredients.

but you’re not one to let things slide so easily. You take a deep breath, your resolve hardening as you call out after him, your voice clear and steady. “If you think this game of yours is going to get you anywhere, you’re sorely mistaken.”

he stops mid-step, slowly turning back to face you, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. It’s clear he didn’t expect you to push back, at least not so quickly. You can see the calculation in his eyes, the way he’s weighing his next move.

“Is that so?” he drawls, his tone teasing, but there’s a hint of something more serious beneath it now. “You think this is just a game?”

you step forward, refusing to let him regain the upper hand. “I think you like toying with people. But I’m not here to play along.”

for a moment, there’s a silence between you, thick with unspoken challenges. Then, to your surprise, his smirk softens into something almost genuine—almost.

“Maybe you’re right,” he admits, his voice lower now, more thoughtful. “But it seems to me, you’re just as interested in the outcome as I am.”

you open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. There’s something in his gaze that’s different, something that makes you pause. It’s not just arrogance or amusement anymore, it’s curiosity, a genuine interest that catches you off guard.

he waits, as if daring you to deny it. But instead, you meet his gaze evenly, refusing to back down. “Don’t mistake my curiosity for anything more than it is,” you reply, your voice firm. “I don’t play by your rules.”

his eyes glint with that familiar mischief again, but there’s a new respect there, too. “We’ll see about that.”

with those final words, he turns and walks away, but this time, it feels less like a retreat and more like a promise—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for, but one you know you won’t be able to resist.

as your gaze follows him, lingering on the spot where he disappears around the corner, you barely notice Sarah slipping up beside you until she speaks.

“Hey—the drinks!” she chirps, her voice pulling you back to reality. You blink, shaking off the lingering thoughts as you turn to face her.

“Sorry, got a little distracted,” you say, forcing a smile as you give her one. You can still feel the tension from the encounter thrumming in your veins, but you push it down, trying to focus on the warmth of the drink in your hands.

Sarah tilts her head, her brow furrowing as she follows your gaze to the now-empty corridor. “Distracted by what? Or should I say, by who?” she teases, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Let me guess, someone from Slytherin?”

you let out a light laugh, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing, really. Just some…annoying conversation.”

“Annoying, huh?” Sarah raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Well, whoever it was, they’ve definitely got you all riled up. Should I be worried?”

“Worried? No,” you reply, shaking your head, though you can’t quite banish the image of that smirk from your mind. “Just…caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Sarah takes a sip of her butterbeer, her eyes still studying you curiously. “Well, whoever it is, just remember: don’t let anyone mess with you, okay? Especially not some smug Slytherin.”

you smile, her words bringing some much-needed reassurance. “I won’t, promise.”

“Good,” she says, clinking her goblet lightly against yours. “Now, let’s get back to the common room before Filch decides we’re breaking curfew again.”

as you walk away, side by side with Sarah, you can’t help but glance back one last time, the faint echoes of your earlier encounter still playing at the edges of your thoughts. He has you in a trance, and you can’t deny ir.

a/n: i have no idea if this is good sorry baes

taglist: @fawnchives @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @jetaimevous @archiebabiesworld @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz

[naffeclipse]

Packmates

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

This is such a delightful little fic requested by @counterbalance involving Orca!Eclipse having a little heart-to-heart with Michael and Vanessa with, of course, Y/N overseeing it! It's very cathartic and sweet to see all of these characters talk to each other after everything that has happened. I hope you enjoy!

———

Spring in the Arctic is frigid. No flowers bloom along the frozen land. Sea smoke sends pale wisps into the rosy pink dawn light. Jutting mounts of hills and ice jag the landscape as you slip closer and closer to the edge of the snow-dotted ocean. 

You tuck your scarlet wool scarf tighter around your throat. Goggles and a hood protect your face and eyes from the wicked air so cold, it brandishes itself like a knife against exposed skin. 

The darkness of a blistering cold night in the polar region lifts away, and the sweet, soft light of a new, short day begins. Slowly, the days will get longer and longer, until there is only the hint of dusk before it brightens all over again. You marvel at the sunlight on the glittering frozen ground. The way it refracts upon the tips of waves as the ocean churns slowly in its below-zero temperature state. 

All of this is no matter to an orca siren. Eclipse has never been cold. Only alone.

That will change.

You trek across the plain with company. It’s taken you a few days to prepare Eclipse to meet your packmates as he refers to them properly. He’s not wrong. Michael and Vanessa form your little tightly knit group, forged by comradery from first being stuck in such a stark landscape in a tiny base, to then enduring the mysterious uncertainty of sirens and the lingering presence of those who hunted them. 

They tried to protect you and you protected them. On your left, Michael’s head is on a swivel. He strains his neck as he peers down into the deep and dark indigo waters as if he might spy Eclipse before he’s ready to emerge. His gloved hands clench, held in front of him as if a harpoon might materialize and drop into his waiting palms. The fur of his dark gray parka is red, pushed by the slight breeze as if he were an Arctic fox roaming, briskly attempting to keep away from a much larger threat.

Vanessa walks so close to you on your other side that her shoulder repeatedly brushes against your own with the thick scratch of durable fabric from your Arctic gear echoing. Her face repeatedly turns to you. A black aviator hat protects her head from the fierce cold, the white fur along the flops of her head attire serving to keep her safe and warm. She anxiously moves her arms. You wonder if she intends to hug you or drag you back to base—either way, she seems to want to grab onto you tightly, as if you might fall through the thick ice now. 

They have their reasons to fear, but it’s alright now. Eclipse isn’t going to hurt anyone.

Seeing is believing, it seems, as you lead them towards the icy coast. The water reveals a deeper teal hue to its soft waves and lapping against the edge of the sea as the sun glares across the horizon. You squint against the brightness. Holding up a hand to help shield your gaze, you search the salty edge of the ocean.

Eclipse said he would meet them. He said he wants to know your packmates better.

“Stay here,” you say softly.

Michael’s shoulders become rigid. His eyes, verdant and almost wild, like a creature about to snap with its fangs, follow you in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You turn back, smiling despite how well your Arctic gear covers you up. 

“I am. It’s okay, Michael.” In a firmer tone, you remind, “You said you would give him a chance.”

Inhaling deeply, he dips his chin once. “I did. But he’s still a siren.”

“And you’re a human who had a harpoon.” You face him, no longer shrinking in his presence. There are no more secrets, no more reasons to protect each other from the truth. You love Eclipse. That should be enough for Michael but it’s going to take a little more time.

But he’ll see.

“We don’t have them now,” Vanessa says. She crosses her arms in what might have been a pout but her gloved hands grip herself anxiously. “It—He can still sing.”

“He won’t. He promised me he wouldn’t.” You have to ask much of them, and winter isn’t enough time for change, but it’ll have to do. “Trust me.”

They can now. Michael and Vanessa glance at each other, reassuring and perhaps, reinspired by the other. 

You nod gratefully and turn back to the water. You kneel at its edge, searching for a tell-tale sign of a sharp dorsal fin or burning red flukes. He shouldn’t be bold—at least more than is excessive for him. You took great care to explain to him how wary Michael and Vanessa might be and that he needs to be on his best behavior. He promised but the way he held you close in an embrace left a grain of doubt in your mind.

In the distant dark teal of the Arctic Ocean, you spy the beautiful, red-tipped dorsal fin of an orca siren. Eclipse. He swims slowly, approaching in the way a shark might curiously regard fresh bait while it’s not currently hungry. You wait. In the corner of your vision, Michael and Vanessa tense. You remain, hands on your legs, inhaling the frost-bitten scent of the wind before the dorsal fin dips below.

Right before you, where ice meets water, Eclipse emerges dripping wet, maw wide open in a grin. His eyes burn through the chilled landscape. One yellow and one red eye greet you with a radiant wonder. His expression softens. Your heart warms as he reaches for you, black-tipped claws dripping wet.

“Happy day, birdie,” he singsongs in a low rumble of harmonics. 

His hands brush your gloved palms, and you hear a strange rush of steps behind you. Eclipse’s eyes narrow. He latches onto your wrists just as arms encircle you from behind, one over your shoulder, and another around your waist, and a breathless sound of panic touches the back of your hood. You look down to find the off-white garb of Vanessa’s Arctic gear clinging to you, her gloves twisting deeply into your coat.

“Vanessa,” Michael says, his tone unreadable. He steps closer just as Eclipse growls.

“It’s okay,” you pipe up over everyone. “We’re fine, everyone’s fine.”

Tensions soar as you slowly turn your head back to find Vanessa wide-eyed and breathless. Her gaze is locked onto Eclipse. A rumble on the threat of a snarl vibrates through Eclipse’s chest. Vanessa holds you tighter.

“Eclipse, will you let go of me?” You level him with a pointed stare. “I want to introduce you to my packmates.”

Eclipse’s teeth flash. His array of head frills, flaring in dark oranges and deep reds, cut through the blues and whites of the Arctic in his agitation. 

“Eclipse,” you say softly, “Let me go. Just for a moment.”

His gaze drops back to you. You are firm, and unyielding as he lowers his shoulders. A softness returns to his feature. Though he appears pained to release your wrists, his claws slip away. 

Vanessa’s death grip upon you loosens in the slightest.

“Vanessa, this is Eclipse.” You pat her arms once. “He’s not taking me anyway. You can stop grabbing me now.”

She drags in a ragged breath. She slowly blinks, her green eyes returning to a more sensible state as she at last withdraws her arms from around you. You pat her arm again. Yet, she sits close beside you, trembling with anticipation. 

Gently, you gesture towards her, “Eclipse, this is my packmate, Vanessa.”

He tilts his head. Hiding his teeth, he smiles. “Hello.”

A stare follows from Vanessa, caught somewhere before wariness and the strangeness of an orca siren speaking to her. Was she expecting a monstrous grable to leave his lips or perhaps a wicked song? 

“Hi.” she finally decides. She glances at you in confusion for a moment. 

Oh, right. Packmate. You’ll explain that later.

“Eclipse,” you then hold your hand out beyond Vanessa to Michael. He still stands on his feet, unwilling or unable to join you guys on the ice that the orca siren leans his arms against. “This is Michael.”

Eclipse’s eyes sharpen as if the tip of an icicle. He lifts his hand. Michael tenses, his fists balling into fists.

“You are the child of the human who took away my pod, my family,” his deep voice is abysmal with the accusations. “I thought you would be worse.”

Michael turns hard as stone. Tension laces his jaw as he clenches tightly. Your heart skips a beat, glancing sharply between the two.

Eclipse snarls. “Your father killed my mother.”

“Sirens are dangerous,” Michael retorts, his shoulders braced for an impact that you refuse to see.

“Eclipse, you said you would be good to my pack,” you say sharply. You reach out and touch the back of Eclipse’s slick, sheeny hand.

He pauses, his eyes flashing to you. His claws quickly curl around your wrist. 

“I am,” he says, but he lowers his voice. 

Vanessa tenses, her hand reaching to hook around the crook of your arm. Desperation fills you to the brim.

“Please, there’s been enough fighting and hatred.” You look between all three of them. “You all have suffered, haven’t you?”

You steely hold Michael’s gaze. His expression morphs between molten rage and seething hatred before melting into something less bitter. You turn on Eclipse. His expression is sharp, edged with rime and fangs. You squeeze his hand. He glances down at your small gloved fingers in his palm. Slowly, he breathes out a huff of misty air. When you turn to Vanessa, her head is already bowed. Her grip upon your arm is no longer a means to keep you close, but to anchor herself.

“My sister,” Michael says, then stops. He struggles for a moment before looking at Eclipse—truly looking at Eclipse for the first time. “My sister is gone because of my father.”

The beginnings of a snarl pulling over his teeth stop. Eclipse’s grip around your hand becomes gentle. A low sound of sympathy escapes him in a warble.

“Afton let my mother be taken by a siren.” Vanessa’s voice is so small, you almost don’t catch it. “He sacrificed her for the sake of his studies.”

Her fingers dig into your coat. You wish you had another hand so you might comfort her. 

Eclipse looks at your other packmate, much more gentle as he leans closer as if to console her. Then, for a moment, he’s pierced with a strange expression. He leans away. His hand slips out of yours as he clenches his hands. His claws rake over the ice.

“Did the siren take your mother as a mate?”

Vanessa’s head lifts. Her mouth contorts as if her very muscles are paralyzed before she says gravelly, “I think so.”

Eclipse’s gaze falls over you. A memory of a time of being stolen away, held underwater, and forced to swim leaves you with a chill. Eclipse, however, slowly inches his hand back to you, open and waiting, and you accept it again. His shiny black and white markings are still sea salt-slick. He whistles a soft sound.

“It is wicked to force your will upon another,” his voice is low, repentant. 

Michael and Vanessa share equal expressions of scrutiny and wonder. Perhaps you merely imagine the first shine of acceptance in their eyes, but it’s a start.

Visibly, they relax. Vanessa still holds to your elbow but her fingers are no longer hooking around you in the hope of keeping you from being reeled out. Gradually, Michael lowers himself onto one knee. He rests his arm on his leg and loses the tautness in his body. 

You hold tight to Eclipse’s fingers. You wish you could close the distance. It’s been a few days since you’ve returned to the Arctic and spent time with Eclipse, but you still yearn for more of him. It was a long and cold winter without your siren. 

Perhaps humans and sirens don’t have to stay enemies. Perhaps the past can die with the generation who couldn’t stop fighting. Maybe you all can be better, and happier.

“Eclipse, will you tell Vanessa what you told me before?” you nudge. You think it will sound better coming from a siren than from you. 

Straightening, Vanessa glances quizzically at you, then Eclipse as a few water droplets fall from his frills.

“Your mother may be alive.” He turns towards the sea without releasing your hand. “She may be out there. I can help find her if that is something you wish.”

A ripple of shock crosses your friend’s expression. Of course, you and Michael promised to help search for her mother now that she understood what may have become of her. This is one of your motivations for returning to the Arctic. Vanessa is almost speechless. You have never seen her emotional before, but you wonder if she may weep. Is she happy or angry that a siren would offer such a thing to her? Knowing what happened to her mother?

“You know where she is?” she asks.

“No,” Eclipse corrects promptly, “but I can aid in your search. I know these waters. I have swam them all my life. If she is here, I can locate her.”

She glances at you, her eyes shining. You smile reassuringly. Slowly, she turns to Michael. His expression is firm and difficult to read, but he gives a slight nod. 

This might not end up how you wish it would, but it’s something. It’s hope—a possible answer after never having her mother all of her life. You wonder what kind of tail her mother could possess, and shiver as you glance down to your legs covered in thick Arctic gear.

“I—Yes,” Vanessa says at last. She faces Eclipse. “I would owe you everything if you helped me find her.”

A wide grin splits the crescent marking of his face. Just below the water and beyond the edge of ice you sit upon, his tail snaps to one side.

“No need. I want nothing more than what I have.” He squeezes your hands. His claws carefully brush over the fabric of your gloves as your heart swells with pride. 

You face him. Gently tugging yourself free of Vanessa’s grip, her hold loosens and she lets you go, her hand hanging in the air while you close the distance between you and Eclipse. His arms open gladly. You enter his embrace. A spark of shyness flies through you, never having an audience before to witness the affection between you and the orca siren.

Eclipse makes you forget all else as he hums soothingly. He nuzzles softly along your hood, pushing your goggles up to touch the heat of your skin. You close your eyes. He squanders not the opportunity to press a slick kiss to one eyelid, then the other. You breathe softly.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him.

“I thought you would know there is no need to thank me,” he rumbles with mirth, “but I still enjoy it.”

You pull back and touch his cheek. He leans into it before you remember who is present. You turn back to Michael and Vanessa and bashfully ask where they should start looking first.

[speed-world]

Well...uh ok story request then I'll do new hc request lol!

Ok story idea...this time baker is the correct thing lol!

Story idea: y/n is just living their life...baking cookies to release into the world since they don't agree with the witches eating living, sentient cookies! One day, cookies invade their hut and it scares y/n, thinking the cookies had mistaken them as one of the witches who Baked them to eat and have come back...FOR REVENGE! (bonus if y/n had talked to witches prior, confronting them about how they should only eat cookies that aren't alive and don't have life powder and aren't Sentient, and had a talk with them that ended like 'if the cookies one day decide to rise up against you and take revenge for what you did to all of them, don't say I didn't warn you!')

Shenanigans ensue until y/n is successfully knocked out and y/n is terrified as they pass out...

Only to wake up in the cookie world...as a cookie....and turns out cookies did this because they loved y/n and wanted to be able to spoil and love them and give em a happy life...just be the cookie's teddybear and keep y/n all for themselves. (Sorry if that last part sounds weird...just ngl would cuddle the cookies if given the chance. You can just say they did it so y/n could live happily with them and wanted to keep y/n for themselves...knowing they could make y/n happier than those witches.)

Revenge or salvation? (Baker! Y/N One-shot)

TW: little angst, gets resolved

It was that time for another Witch’s Meeting, an event that you…weren’t too much a fan of. Although you did enjoy baking new cookies, and there were some witches that you could tolerate and genuinely be friends with, most of them ticked you off. They aggravated you since after they created their cookies—no—created new life, they ate them, as if their lives were pointless.

Why, you wondered. Why would these witches go as far to create life itself, just to take it away?!

“They’re only cookies, Y/N. We bake them to eat them, simple as that!”

But then what was the purpose for the life powder? What was the reason for making such uniquely living beings, just to destroy-to murder them?!

“So sensitive and sentimental. The life powder only makes them tastier, you can’t get sweets like these anywhere else!”

Then just eat the plain cookies without life powder!! Cookies that are just…treats, not fully sentient and knowledgeable life forms!! This is monstrous, don’t you hear their cries and feel their fear when they freak out before you violently end their lives!?!?

“And you listen to them, as if they matter? They see you to, you know. Tasty little things must be as afraid of you as they are us, no? Fine, keep caring for them as if they have feelings, especially for you, a baker like us. Keep giving them space in your home to live, and once they rebel and attack you for being a witch like us, don’t come crying back to us!!”

You hated their cruel and inhumane words. It was pointless to reason with the unreasonable, so you just ignored them before you could cry. The select few good witches understood and shared your pain, and they’d comfort you the best they could.

You and said witches always made sure to hide your creations from the witches eating their cookies, shielding their eyes and immediately leaving the meeting right when you were done baking. Despite your efforts to hide the truth from your cookies, they saw it all. Your clothes would get soiled from their tears on your way to your own abode, but you were fine with it.

You promised your creations they would never be eaten or see those terrible witches again. You were done with those meetings, you can continue to bake at your own home. You told them that you’ll see them tomorrow in a much better mood, and put your cookies to bed in their own little rooms.

And you most certainly will meet them again, in a very different mood

You awoke to the sounds of small yet loud chants and stomping little feet. You looked from your bed and noticed…your cookies charging at you!

But that wasn’t all, some of the cookies charging at you weren’t even cookies you baked! They were cookies you saw created from the other witches, did they escape their horrible fate?! Other cookies you noticed were completely new, cookies you never saw before!!

Oh no, this was what the witch was talking about!! They really were gonna harm you!!

What were they all do—WHACK!

……how…how long were you out? Your head was slightly hurting, but not as much as you thought it would. You focused your vision as you came to and—

Where…WHERE ARE YOU!?!?

You shot up, but only to wince and tumble down. You rolled over and looked at yourself. …Why is your body flat?! You checked your arms and hands, which were also flat and smelled like…a cookie.

You smelled like a freshly baked cookie with a strong flavor that you remembered as your favorite flavor.

You were on the verge of freaking out until an…oddly energetic bunch of cookies showed up.

“Hey there, glad to see you’re finally awake! I’m Gingerbrave, and welcome to the Cookie Kingdom!”

The…what?!

“The Cookie Kin—“

No, no. You heard him, but you meant as in, a Cookie Kingdom?!? Are you dreaming or hallucinating right now!?

“Uh, no, you aren’t hallucinating…do you not remember anything that happened…?”

You remember being bonked in the head really hard, if that’s anything. …Actually, now you remember a bunch of cookies charging towards you, some of which you baked. And well, then you were hit in the head. Were they trying to kill you for revenge?!

“Oh no, of course not! In fact, the reason we turned you into a cookie is because the last thing we’d ever want is you hurt!”

Oh, okay then. …WAIT THEY TURNED YOU INTO A COOKIE TO SAVE YOU?!? ….that’s actually…kinda neat. Weird, but neat!

“Oh yeah! A few cookies told us everything! About how you’re there baker and wanted nothing to do with those nasty witches! Which I totally get!!”

Those sound like the cookies you baked. They always were caring for you, probably more than you were for them! This new life of yours will need some adjusting to, but seeing as how just about every cookie you spot wants to help you with anything and everything, it seems that this will be fine!

You realized you were saved from dealing with those awful witches, and now you can pay it forward with helping these cookies live a happy life, just as you always wanted them too!