#my long term cancelled wife

[the-mother-of-lions]

make me choose - @snapshotmaestro asked bad bunny or mackenyu?

[nyaagolor]

How do you rank the prosecutors on order of homophobia

forgot about this in my drafts for literally months oops. Anyway. Finished now!!!!

So I made this post a while ago that has some of the prosecutors and antagonists, but if you want a ranking of EVERY prosecutor (not including DGS bc i haven't finished yet) huzzah!!

Simon Blackquill: Not actually homophobic but he gets points docked for siccing Taka (known homophobe) at Klavier (known bisexual) for stealing his pretzels from the office pantry that one time. 3/10

Blaise Debeste: I think he's gay but he made me look at that ugly ass beard for far too long and I consider that disrespectful. out of principle? 8/10

Sebastian Debeste: Just look at him. 0/10

Miles Edgeworth: Bratworth was simultaneously gay, homophobic, and a misogynist, and eventually develops into a man who is only like 1.5 of those things. he's getting better. 5/10

Byrne Faraday: I don't really think he cares much about gay people he's busy being a single father and stealing shit. For the apathy? 2/10

Klavier Gavin: He's extremely gay and does a lot of work for the gay community but making Ema Skye deal with him is explicitly lesbophobic so 4/10

Godot: He has a lovely wife but whatever he was doing with Ron DeLite was probably not osha-compliant. I don't know what that means for his sexuality or stance on gay people and neither does he. ?/10

Ga'ran: I think she has a lot of other problems she should deal with first but considered she's bigoted to defense attorneys I don't think her being homophobic would be that out of pocket. Not sure I want to find out. 7/10

Neil Marshall: Have you ever been a gay bar? This guy would do NUMBERS. Also, real cowboys support gay rights. 0/10

Gaspen Payne: Being homophobic is actually why he got fired by the prosecutor's office and Winston is really fucking embarrassed about it. 10/10

Winston Payne: You'd think he'd be homophobic but you can't work for the Japanifornia Prosecutor's Office and hate gay people or you would actually go insane. He's like that one suburban guy who uses terms from the 60s but has the spirit. However, his ally lapel pin is really ugly so 3/10

Jaques Portman: He was calling Edgeworth slurs even before realizing he was gay. 9/10

Lana Skye: Dated Mia in college but refused to explain that to Ema because she has a lot of internalized homophobia and other weird issues of self. Repressed yuri personified. 1/10

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: He supports gay people but gets all his talking points from the internet so even though he's supportive he's also incredibly fucking annoying about it and no one wants to invite him to brunch because of it. Stop using twitter for fact-checking you jackass. 2/10

Franziska Von Karma: Despite the fact that her lesbianism is so strong it borders on misandry, I think she has a lot of internalized homophobia so she spends the first 25 years of her life being a judgmental little shit. She'll get better dw about it. I believe she can bring that number down with time. 6/10

Manfred Von Karma: I think when he finds out Edgeworth is gay he starts going to gay bars and picking up dudes just to show Edgeworth he has way more rizz than him. Considering how people in my notes have told me on numerous occasions how much they want him carnally, I think he could actually pull it off. In that respect I think he's done a lot for the gay community. It ends up cancelling out somewhat because I think he'd be kind of an ass about it. 4/10

[dfortrafalgar]

Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day

Law x Fem Reader (kinda)

When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.

A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit

[IMLY Masterlist]

Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips.  Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”

“Let me guess,” Law mumbled.  “She canceled?”

“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear.  “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week.  It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.”  She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern.  “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist.  “You’re not going to.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution.  One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins.  She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children.  The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free.  On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends.  The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives.  Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again.  There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.

“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly.  His face remained completely neutral.

“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair.  “Law, you can’t.  You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours.  I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained.  “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward.  They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”

His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim.  Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“I am.”

“And you promise to not traumatize them?”

Law pursed his lips.  The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick.  He didn’t think he had much to worry about.  “I promise.”

Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world.  A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles.  She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.

“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to work out.  You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.

“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.

“Of course.”

—

“Girls.”

Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat.  Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.

“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly.  “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”

“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped.  “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”

“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips.  “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any.  It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”

He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats.  Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior.  Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable.  Law cried on every single birthday.  They had turned him into quite a softie.

His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff.  He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her.  Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.

“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.

Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left.  Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air.  “Gather up all of the crew!  It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew!  Sea wind blows, to where?  Who knows!  The waves will be our guide!”

Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated.  “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”

“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot.  “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”

Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.  Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity.  He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however.  It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over.  It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.

He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.

“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him.  “What do you do all day?”

Law pondered briefly.  “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”

“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.  

“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.

“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.

“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”

The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere.  “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”

Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.

“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console.  He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor.  “I can get it for you on my lunch break.  Can you wait until then?”

Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears.  “But I want him now!  He’s going to die in the car!”

Law rubbed a hand over her hair.  “He won’t die.”

“He will!”

“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back.  “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”

Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh.  Cora was appeased… for now.  She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.

All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved.  They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls.  The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.

“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.

“We promise,” Cora added.  She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead.  Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further.  If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.

There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children.  When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital.  The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.

When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe.  Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time.  It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.

“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters.  The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest.  “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”

“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues.  They were their mother’s daughters, after all.  Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.

“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair.  “I will, though, sir.  No problem at all.”

“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break.  Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.

The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room.  He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad.  Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.

—

Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms.  He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters.  While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.

Mama What do you think of this fit???  I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama Right answers only.  Also, are the girls behaving alright???

His wife did indeed look stunning.  Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees.  Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so.  She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist.  A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone.  Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.

You know you look stunning, baby.  Absolutely gorgeous.  You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?

He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.

Mama Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3

Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later.  He was feeling bold today.

Mama Ice cream first, sex later.  Love you baby <333

Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment.  He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.

Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes.  She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure.  Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book.  Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days.  A new literary record.  Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.

With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure.  “What are you building?”

“A submarine.  Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.

The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face.  “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.

Law grinned.  “Could be.  Who’s your papa?”

“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily.  “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”

A lightbulb clicked on in his head.  He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care.  It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language.  Kurozumi Tama.

“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.

“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter.  “Rose, what are you reading?”

Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her.  There were no pictures on the cover.  She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father.  “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked.  It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”

Somehow, Law was not surprised.  He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father.  Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.

He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however.  Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family.  As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart.  His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life.  Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love.  They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later.  It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up.  It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding.  He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.

“Daddy?”

Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers.  The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.  

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.

A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat.  His girls looked so much like his wife.  He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.

“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”

—

Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste.  After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her.  When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.

Mama Look how tuckered out they are!!!

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama What did you do to them???  LOL

The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app.  Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back.  Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit.  He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could.  With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.

When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch.  All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth.  His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand.  She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss.  He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp.  She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.

“You tease!” she whispered.  “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”

“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer.  His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.

When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up.  “Good, because you still have to take this off of me.  I’m uncomfortable.”  She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream.  “After this, obviously.”

“Of course, of course.”  Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand.  Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.

“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.

“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though.  I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained.  “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume.  And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”

Law held her close while opening his own ice cream.  “I’m sure it will be.  You’re a shoe in for that position.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.

“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.

She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her.  Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.

“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck.  “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

[outrunningthedark]

Real question tho. Explain to me how another failed relationship for Eddie will be a good storyline??? this motherfucker is always fucking single and miserable and this season it’s finally some happiness and he looks happy but no let’s make him single and miserable again??? booooriiinnggggg

I agree with your overall feelings on this. I had my issues with decisions Kristen made in her two years as co-showrunner, including how rushed the Eddie dating arc was (because Mr. "I never thought the show was in danger of being canceled" apparently didn't tell his colleague to write as if there WOULD be a season seven), but she DID get the overall point to the story correct in that Eddie was finally ready to date on his terms and even made the first move by asking for Marisol's number and calling her to set something up. So, here comes Marisol (I'm just talking about the character, not the actress), and you would think this new relationship would have happier times because Eddie's in a happier place, right? Apparently not. People can and probably will spin the narrative to say that they're letting Edy go because of her real life actions ("the backlash is getting to be too much"), but look at the premiere. That was a blink-and-you-miss-it appearance by her, even less than what Ana got in both her introductions from seasons three and four. That's not how you help the audience get (re)acquainted with someone who could be around for a long while. It's just not. So here we are, possibly/probably ending season seven with Marisol officially out or her final scene being written in a way that suggests she will be even if it's not said on screen (like how Buck and Ali kinda sorta broke up in 2x18, but Buck had to confirm it in 3x01) and...it's back to the drawing board we go.

I was never attached to Marisol, I don't pay attention to Edy unless something crosses my dash (I don't see the point in keeping tabs on an actress that I don't care for), and I had already made peace with however long it would take to wrap this story up. But this thing with Eddie grieving Shannon, thinking it's time to commit, changing his mind, and repeating the same pattern in a different season? That's becoming boring to me, to more folks in this fandom, and probably a lot of others who aren't in the fandom and aren't watching 9-1-1 for a repression arc, particularly not from the Army vet with the dead wife and son (who's not a little kid anymore and doesn't need his father's help the same way he used to). Marisol out? That's fine, we'll survive. The next one, though? Would it kill them to try?

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 8

Synopsis: Truths are revealed, jeopardizing what lies between these two lovers. Why? And how?

A/n: Angst! Angst! And in this chapter, I personally will relinquish a grudge, Sophia I forgive you now, sorta. I swear things may improve! Also, Petronella is a girl's girl and alive. Fuck what the Canon says.

You never expected the tables to turn that quickly. You never wanted to have an affair. You just subconsciously wanted him. Maybe more than subconsciously.

How dumb.

You left his office and went off to your tutoring. Your chest still ringing from beating too hard. Your ears were tingling.

You figured one would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not notice your obvious puppy dog. (Or how did he put it just now? “A fawn separated from it’s mother too early”…?) Crush you were developing on him.

Was it desperation and he was merely scratching an itch? Something to warm his bones after a dry-spell since his wife died? If not, why not just go see an escort? (You shuddered at an accidental outing.)

You doubted it was a crush, like you held. Do men in their upper fifties (Your best guess at his age…) get crushes? You also doubted that.

And why did it seem like he had twice the amount of pulse in his body. If you didn’t know anatomy, you would swear he had two hearts in his chest.

You shook your head and left silly thoughts and trying to define this experience.

Whatever it was, it began to happen fast. You would meet up between classes in his office for a quick fuck. Or if he saw you on campus he’d guide you to somewhere secluded for a kiss on your cheek and a remark about your latest diatribe in class.

You still met up every Monday for some actual tutoring on his class.

Once he took you out to park at the edge of town for a little coffee date.

He respected your work schedule and always never asked questions.

You were dearly grateful.

The term was coming to an end, and you were in the library. It was late and you covered in highlighter ink and were approaching clinical insanity. You felt a now-familiar set of hands on your shoulders.

“Burning the candle at both ends? I see.”

“Hey.” You broke out of your reverie and statistics-essay informed stupor. It might have been a tad bit louder than you intended.

“Play hooky from work this weekend. I’ve got to go to London for my other job.” First time he ever mentioned a second job. Did the university really pay it’s professors that little? You heard a few, more junior ones kvetching once. But him? He was definitely tenured.

“Another job?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I made a bad choice in the 70’s. It’s followed me around since then. Do come. I’ll do us somewhere special.” So your calculations on his age were wrong. He was maybe just a tad bit older than upper fifties…

Probably lower sixties.

“Sounds fine by me. It’s been slowing up.” You remarked.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Do ditch the energy drink. They’re ever so bad on human’s guts.”

A weird quirk. He’d always say humans or apes. As if he was above or different. Maybe it was the fact he was an old white guy.

Yeah, that was it. Old white guy brain rot.

“Meet me at that park… Friday, around three PM.” He instructed.

“Okay…”

“I’ll let you go back to your studies. I know how much you value them.” A final kiss and he faded out as quickly as he appeared.

You texted your manager and explained that you weren’t able to do the weekend shift, but definitely Thursday night. If you were to go to London, you’d proceed some mad money to spend on your own if his second job left you hostage for too long to your own devices.

And you canceled on a few regulars.

“Family issues.” Always a surefire way to get out of these things. Vague enough to not garner questions and would gain some sympathy. You hoped some other girl wouldn’t nab them, but you knew how people were. That one girl, Sophia, once stole your biggest tipper who saw you on both Friday nights and Sunday evenings because she’d do oral without a condom.

Damn that stomach flu you had that weekend.

You worked that night, slow but a big tip had materialized. Perfect.

By the time you had gotten home and napped for a few hours, you had a dilemma. Obviously you didn’t want your work knickers and robes mixing in with your real life clothes. Taint the divide you had.

You stared at your open suitcase. It was a little carry-on one. Yet the empty inside could swallow you whole. You threw in the most fancy of your basics in. It seemed the best idea. You pressed your hand to your mouth and let out a nervous scream.

Why was picking out what clothes you’d wear to probably just stay in a hotel all weekend stressful?

And were you entering kept whore territory?

Your situationship was dreadfully unlabeled.

You definitely knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. That word was horribly trite and evoked images of teens and young adults running about to dinner dates and cuddling each other on the bus. Or feeling each other up behind the seats in a cinema.

Not that you had particularly a detailed actual history with long-term or healthy relationships.

That’s life.

Did he even drive? How were you two getting to London? You just sat there on the bench after going to the park. It was nearly three.

You scratched at your eyelid, fighting the urge to tear off your lower lip with your fingernails.

Checking your phone, you didn’t see the big black Range Rover pulling up in front of you. The back passenger side door popped open, startling you a bit. “Hey you, get in. Apparently I’m very late.” You saw him in the back, a few soldiers in it with him. (They looked like soldiers. You decided they were.)

You grabbed your little carry-on suitcase and went in. An anxiety attack was bubbling up. What was his other job? You slid in and clenched your suitcase and purse between your legs.

You were going to London, so you chose a classy, sleek, small black number. You made the right choice. It was positively crowded in here.

There was a cute, disgruntled looking girl with an oversized knit scarf and some hipster glasses on in the front passenger seat.

“Hi! I’m Osgood!” She stretched back and offered you her hand. “You’re his...assistant?” She seemed confused by your general existence, but pleased you were another girl in this car of men. You couldn’t blame her! You took it and shook.

“She’s my companion.” The bastard finally labeled your situationship. Companion, very old timey. He let out of beaming smile, and continued on, “Petronella Osgood, (y/n's full name). (Y/n’s full name), Petronella Osgood. The new lead scientific advisor and assistant to the Head of UNIT!” His hand nearly swiped one of the soldier’s faces. “You’re both clever and don’t think like a normal human. You’ll be friends by Sunday night…”

If you could have balled yourself up and rolled away like a pill bug of you could.

“Do you like Costa? I’m trying to convince these people to stop by on our way home! Usually he just shows up, you know how he is with that TARDIS of his. But the Doctor said this would be best for him to do today…” She battered you with information and words.

You’d discuss this all with him further in private. Right now, you had to play a role.

“Yeah, I could go for…a Cortado.” You choked out. Coffee would help this all be absorbed a lot quicker.

She began fiddling with the vehicle’s GPS.

They all began talking about whatever techno-babble and such. It was over your head. You felt yourself getting heart burn and a migraine.

Petronella asked you something. And like a baby with dribble on it’s shirt, you said sluggishly: “What?”

“Do you think that we should do a frontal advance?”

“Maybe not?” You just started making things up on the fly. Filling it in ad-lib style!

You wanted to kill yourself.

“I mean, if… you go… from the front…all in. They’ll be…able to see you?” You heaved. “If you go from the…sides…and like, guerilla style…whatever is happening will…be a surprise …you remember like, the Germans against Rome or Boudicca, also against Rome…yeah.” You ended. You deserved a little chewing on the inside of your cheek, as a treat.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a Costa, Petronella seemed very eager to order in-shop. And to drag you in.

You collected the soldier’s and Professor Smith (Oh! Yeah, they called him Doctor…you’d demand the truth later.) Orders.

You were so eager to leave the car for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, mind if I smoke real quick?” You had quit, but there was a lose one in the purses pocket, and the situation called for one. If ever there was a time to start smoking, it’d be now.

“I have asthma! But sure! I can wait.” She went into the weird little room that’s neither inside nor outside that commercial spaces tend to have. She got a phone call.

You could use this as an opportunity to get information about the man who you had been fucking. She’d be more helpful here. She clearly knew him better. Sure you had seen him naked. But she knew him on a more intimate level it seemed.

You finished up your cigarette and crushed it under the heel of your shoe. You got a bottle of perfume out and began dusting it on a heavy layer. You took one big inhale and rolled your neck around. It cracked and you relaxed a bit.

Entering the Costa, she hung up her phone and smiled.

You both ordered. You got yourself one of their fruit biscuits and went to get out your cash.

“Oh no! I got it! All of it.” She whipped out a black card and tapped it to the reader. “Perks of the job.”

You nodded your head. You had heard of UNIT, but couldn’t be arsed to care.

“So, the Doctor.” The name sounded foreign coming out of your mouth. “How long have you worked with him?”

“Oh! Five years now!”

You placed a hand on your throat and rested your jaw on it.

“What’s his deal?”

“Wish I knew, but we should all be glad he exists, he’s the best we got.”

Oh!

You let out a little “mmhmm.”

Before you could get your next question, the drinks and your snack came.

She grabbed her milk babyccino and handed you your Cortado as you left the Costa. You didn’t want to get back in the Range Rover. This all seemed like a very bad idea. You should have never agreed to this.

But here you were, so you had to deal with it.

You got back in the back, the solider driving said they’d have to speed along, no stops.

You shrunk in the seat. You felt his one hand stroke your upper arm. He was trying to comfort you. You wish you could recoil, but you had grown too addicted to his touch. Against all instinct, you leaned into him and sipped your coffee. Just sat an observed, chiming in when people would outright ask you for your input. More sipping your coffee and staring glumly out the front windshield. You felt like a caged beast.

Soon enough you were in London and you could get out of the car. Sadly, it pulled into an underground military-style bunker.

You were very proud of yourself for keeping your cool and now having a major breakdown in there.

You entered a lift, still carrying your suitcase.

It went all the way to the top.

Some woman in a very impressive suit and a silk scarf met you all there.

More introductions.

The Doctor – Professor Smith- whatever his real title or honorific was, took your suitcase and told someone to take it to a place. You didn’t retain or hear. You were positively swimming. You hated how good this artificial, florescent lighting made the hollows of his face looked. He was a bit more formal in his dress than he ever was at the university. In this moment you hated how you were reacting to him. Obviously he had to confess things to you.

Obviously, there was a bit of a double standard, but this outweighed your little evasions and white lies.

There was a meeting and grand plans were drawn. Choices were made.

And you had to make choices for yourself.

It was close to midnight when you finally got out of the meeting. Tomorrow apparently they’d denote a device, after it was programmed and set up during the night. Apparently that’d save the Earth.

He was swanning along like he owned the place. Everyone was reverent. His word was law and his advice was the loudest.

Maybe you shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette beforehand. Maybe you needed several shots of vodka. Maybe you just were way out of your depth.

Soon enough you had an escort of two soldiers for him and you to a suite with the bare essentials of comfort. Your stupid suitcase was there. Like a fancy barracks.

The door locked and you were alone with him.

“It’s time I tell you some truths.” He said, sitting in a chair at the desk.

You threw your hands up, “You fucking think so?” It came out as a screech. You clapped your hand to your mouth.

“What the fuck?” You clapped your hands together as you leaned over and down to face him. “What the fuck was all that?” You crouched into a squat.

“Let me tell you.” His tone was silencing. Like you were in the wrong for this reaction.

“Fine!”

“Firstly, this changes nothing about the past months. But I am an alien from a planet far away and long since gone. I am over two-thousand years old. My name, my title, is the Doctor. Well the closest translation to any Earthling's language.”

You leaned back, gesturing with your hands in the “okay” position.

“I may be a little fucking slow, I may have a few learning disabilities, but I’m not fucking stupid. Are you…aware…of how incredibly far-fetched that sounds?” Your body swaying with the position of your hands. The hands quickly moved to press into the center of your forehead.

He undid a few buttons on his shirt.

You groaned.

He grabbed at your hands and you tried to escape. He flattened the palm of one and pressed it against his chest. You felt two hearts pumping. Your little observation after the first time you hooked up on how it seemed like he had two pulses wasn’t so stupid suddenly...

“Two hearts, fawn.” He said, using his pet name for you. “I’m alien.”

Your lower lip quivered.

No wonder he felt different than any other man you’d fucked previously. His body was different. He was.

Hot tears burned at the corners of your eyes, starting to splash out. You pulled yourself free and slunk onto the closest wall.

Figures that your first big infatuation that actually seemed to value your life was a fucking ancient alien. You felt like a total freak, were you really that screwed up that the only way you’d get anything resembling a healthy relationship was with an alien!

Your head found its way between your thighs.

“Nothing changes.” He repeated.

“How many others have you done this to?” You spat out. Pure venom.

“Rarely like you.”

“Oh, so I’m just the latest and greatest girl you’ve lured into submission! How kind! I was chosen! I feel special!” You raged out. Giving a little sarcastic bow from your sat position.

He joined you against the wall. You skittered yourself away from him.

“You’re special. Trust me. I had stopped. You met me in a different way. No danger, no trauma-bonding. No Nothing. If not for duties I neglected here for too long, I would have keep you safe. Continued to be your Professor John Smith. Existed…but I couldn’t bear not seeing you for as long as this will take here. Separate. Not my traveling assistant, not anything. Just my little fawn and our perfect microcosm of the universe.” He slid forward and looked you dead in the eye.

He cocked his head, “Remember when I was talking about what the universe owed us? I figured this was my long-awaited, pleaded for reward. To have you, for as long as this little life of yours could allow this fling to last.”

He was very good with words and you could feel them echoing pure and true in your head. Something made you relax and let your guard down.

You hoped it wasn’t some alien superpower he had.

You began openly weeping. Loud, a total cacophony. You started choking on your tears and having a hard time breathing.

He wiped the tears.

You let our a hiccup. He started rubbing small circles on the middle of your back.

“I planned on seeing a West End play with you, a proper date, like a human man would take a human woman to. If you don’t want to, I can order a car and you can go back to Bristol.” He offered.

You started crying even harder.

“Can I shower first? Before I can make a choice. On anything. Even you...” You admitted, needing to revise on your end if you even wanted to be with him in any capacity anymore.

“Understandable, (y/n).” The Doctor helped you up, and gave you your suitcase. You found your toiletries bag and shuffled in. You swore you heard him mutter, “Well, don’t overthink.” But you left that be. You had enough to think about, just add that to the list.

After getting undressed, you turned the water on the hottest it could go.

You began to wash away the day…

So much to think about…so little time to do so.

[kanonavi]

hello tumblr user kanonavi who is 1/3rd of the reason i started rereading tgcf. i have come to collect my personal apology for the emotional damages inflicted upon me for the past 5 days. and i have also come with THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS (mostly feelings)

- icb i put off this reread so long hualian are so romance. theyre jsut Romance......... absolutely floored by every throwaway bit of dialogue they had....... in shambles forever....,

- sqx arc was not as painful as the first few times i read it bc i now stand with my cancelled wife (he xuan) I STILL LOVE SQX AND THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD. BUT HX WAS REAL FOR ALL OF THAT. i love revenge

- i wanna know your thoughts on ling wen bc u mentioned having mixed feelings on her but i loved her so bad all the way to the end so im curious ljdkdjf

- i am not immune to backstory arc pt2. read it last last (?) night at like 3am and cried myself to sleep its just so gutting every timeeeeeee.... the hc plot that builds in that arc is ofc one of my favorites in the entire novel though :')

- the chapter w the cave of statues took me like 2+ hours to get through because i was feeling so insane abt it

i feel bad dropping this block of text in ur askbox sorry. will leave it there for now LOL

Omg hiiiii tumblr user stardust-make-a-wish welcome back from the yaoi cocaine pit :3 I know you're here to collect emotional damages, but I must make it known that I'm not even remotely sorry <3

Also you should feel bad for yourself instead of for me because I can only respond to huge blocks of text with even bigger blocks of text, so (TGCF Spoilers Ahead) and also I am so sorry lmaooooo

UGH you're so right that hualian is the most romance forever they are just so *clenches fists and sobs*....... They're always there for each other and they're so in love and they've been through so much and I just want them to be able to rest because it's what they deserve.

I will never once say that Hu Xuan wasn't justified in everything he did cuz like. Shi Wudu had it coming what a piece of shit. But at the same time Qingxuan is my wife and I will not tolerate my wife being harmed. So like revenge slay yes but also I am still cancelling He Xuan and spraying him with the water bottle (even though he is already very very damp).

Yesyesyes Ling Wen. So my thought about Ling Wen is that she kinda girlbossed a little too close to the sun, but at the same time you look at her circumstances both past and present and have to understand why she did all of that. It already would have been hard enough for her to gain any kind of recognition as a woman, much less in the Heavenly Court, so her ruthlessness is completely understandable. But at the same time, I don't really think the Brocade Immortal deserved what she did to him nor was taking Bai Wuxiang's side in the final conflict a real cool thing of her to do. I can't fully be a hater though because her own thoughts about everything are clearly so nuanced (See: The final convo she had with Xie Lian about the Brocade Immortal, which I am still thinking so incredibly hard about to this day).

I think that Ling Wen is interesting in the same way that I find other characters like Mu Qing, He Xuan, and Yin Yu interesting. It's in the sense that even if I don't really agree with all of the actions that they took, it's very easy to look at them and come to an understanding of why they did what they did. And I have varying degrees of like for all of the characters I just listed, but that doesn't change the fact that they're all Compelling. So it's almost like a begrudging respect that I feel for Ling Wen, if I were to boil it down into simple terms.

aaaaaaaaaa The Horrors(tm) :sob: Even though I could talk about Xie Lian's arc through that part of his backstory for a million years, you're so right that Hua Cheng's arc through it is also so interesting to watch. It really goes to prove that Hua Cheng is different from everyone else in Xie Lian's life up until this point, because yes there's the very obvious throughline of Hua Cheng wanting to protect Xie Lian (rather than expecting his protection), but even more importantly that feeling never changes even when Xie Lian has his mini corruption arc.

Like, Hua Cheng fell in love with the pure and virtuous Crown Prince of Xianle but not for that quality. Instead of being ashamed and looking at Xie Lian with scorn when he was like "What if I kill everyone actually" Hua Cheng is like "Then let me be your sword". There's the element of not wanting Xie Lian to dirty himself that Hua Cheng carries for the entire story but the point is in that he is not a voice who would tell Xie Lian to stop having those thoughts if it's truly what he wants (Unlike what his parents or Feng Xin and Mu Qing would probably say).

I'm going to write an essay about their character dynamic one day istg I am chewing through the drywall

The cave statues chapter......... *passes away*. Like on one hand that chapter is so funny because yes Hua Cheng is just an absolute certified freak (POV my roommate telling me earlier on in my reading that HC is a porn addict and me being like "pssht noooo" but then getting to this chapter several months later and being like "O h.") but on the other hand THE CONFESSION??????? Like. All I can do is gesture wildly at the storyboard animatic that someone made of that scene on YouTube while absolutely fucking sobbing. There is a reason why the cover of volume 6 felt somehow more intimate than the cover of volume 4 where they're literally making out.

Anyway I'm patting Hua Cheng on the head like It's okay buddy Xie Lian loves you because you're a certified freak, he's seen too much of this world to be weirded out even a little bit. Which is why those two are perfect for each other <3

I'm glad you had so much fun on your reread, have fun with the brainworms :3

[saltygilmores]

Dance Marathon Episode (Aka Murder On the Dancefloor)-Part 8. (Still Not Done)

So noble of you to defend her honor moments before you eviscerate her internal organs and splatter them on the football field.

Look, we don't need you speaking on behalf of Womankind, Miss Salty. Shane has done absolutely nothing to hurt Rory. You know what will hurt, though? That axe that's about to slice through Shane's torso.

WE KNOW. We know how much his sitting down has been concerning you. Your anti-sitting-down-position has been well established. A vote for Rory GIlmore means a vote for chair-destroyal. You are the opposite of that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza felt sorry for a security guard who wasn't allowed to sit down on the job and tried to sneak him a chair.

Be more like George, Rory.

Oh Shane. You just made a very fateful decision. Never go with the killer to a second location.

Damn. It turns me on when he talks like that.

Quoth The Butthead, Anymore.

Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions, coming back to...Consequent me.

To her credit, she's tried to break free and impart on her mother and anyone who will listen through a series of coded blinks that she's being held hostage but you and Lorelai keep throwing her back in the ring and thwarting her escape. I love the word thwarting. Thwarting, thwarting, thwarting. Dean: You've been into him since he got into town. I've spent weeks, months actually, trying to convince myself it wasn't true (it's been a year, actually) that everything was fine between us. You're into him and he's into Shane. Who should be listening to this because it's so damn obvious.

Shane: I have no fucking idea who you or that girl in the polka dot dress are.

I love moments of self awareness on Gilmore GIrls. Embrace your idiotness, Dean.

Just thinking about how Dean is this pissed about Rory's behavior but he's still completely unaware (and will never be aware) that she also kissed Jess and cheated on him 😽 But then he cheats on his own wife and then Rory cheats on Logan with Jess and then Rory has an affair with Logan so in the end they all cancel each other out I guess. The only one of our fickle quadrant of bed hoppers who never knowingly cheated on anyone and the only boy Rory never cheated on was Jess. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

*Rubs temples* look...ugh. I don't really condone Dean yelling at Rory in public. Maybe they should have "Gotten a room", as Rory is fond of saying after learning that term for the first time 2 weeks ago. But in light of Rory's shenanigans, I kind of understand. Not only that, but taking into the account that this scene signals his merciful and long anticipated stepping down as Rory's Primary Male Life Ruiner and handing that crown to Jess, I am waving my Dean Card. I'll give him this one. Let her have it. Get it out of your system. Things with Jess are going to be so much simpler! Yes indeedy, Rory Gilmore. You are going to be riding the train to Easy Street now! Every day with Jess Mariano promises nothing but rainbows, sunshine, and puppydogs made of cupcakes. Let the shit show commence. But first, a little light homocide.

By the way, I've blanked on Lorelai's whereabouts while all of this is going down. Lorelai when she returns and finds out Dean will no be longer coming around to "Change her water bottle"

One more post coming up for the bloody finale.

[silent-raven13]

Quenepas!

(If ya'll never try Quenepas/Mamones/Mamoncillos or in English term Spanish Limes, ya'll are missing out. They are so good! 🤤)

(Warning: Hobie 18 and Miles is 17 and they do a bit of touching. I put a warning bc I know some readers don't like reading high school stuff like this. You been warned.)

"It's amazing my brother was able to find a whole bulk of Quenepas!" Rio smiles widely having one of her favorite fruits in the sink to wash them, "These are amazing healthy snack for you papi!"

Jeff saw the two large boxes of Spanish Limes, "Wow, there's a lot of these things. Are you sure we can finish this?"

"Mi amor, I've been carving for these for the longest." Her small baby bump shows her three month pregnancy. "and they are a way better snack than your donuts."

"You know, not all cops like donuts." Jeff pouts at his wife.

His wife side eye him, "I know you eat at least five of those Dunkin' donuts. You need to start watching what you eat! You're gonna be having another kid and you need to be able get old till you're eighty!" She went to fix her husband's Chief uniform, noticing his tie being off. "You have to be ready for this long journey." She smiles.

"I know. I know. I'll pack some." The middle age man said having to rub his neck, "But will that cancel out a burger?"

"Jeff! How about a salad! Look I already pack your lunch." She handed him, his lunch bag, "The doctor said you need to watch your cholesterol and blood pressure. Less fat, and more greens."

"Awwwe, but is burger Wednesday!"

His wife gave him the death glare that made him shut up real quick. "Okay, Salad Wednesday! I'll eat all this, baby. Love you." He nervously said giving a kiss on the cheek. "Your always right."

"That's what I like to hear!" She smirks widely in approval.

Miles came out of his room being surprised from the boxes of his favorite fruit. "Whoa! Tío brought all these! Yummy!" He happily went over to the clean batches to take one, he first bite around the hard peel then pop the round fruit to suckle on it. "Mmm, so good!"

Quenepas are these green oval balls covered in a thin layer with an orange transparent pulp wrapped around the seed inside. It has a sweet citrus lime taste perfect for the summer, it's refreshing and addicting to eat by its unique flavor. Miles love them so much he tends to eat most of the bag without a thought. It's so delicious that him and his mom always ask their relatives to buy bulks in areas around heavy Puerto Rican/Latinos fruit sellers.

Luckily Miles' uncle was able to find a good deal with two boxes full of Quenepas! Now, he can eat them without worrying about leaving some to his mom. "Mmm, these are so good!" He hops up and down finish suckling the pulp leaving the seed, spitting it out to throw it in the trash.

Rio happily eats one, "These are better than the last bulk. Your tío knows how to pick them. Now, I'ma take some for work. Miles, there's leftovers from last night and pizza from Thursday, okay? If you want to order food tu papà left money on the table."

"Twenty five dollars, right here, son!" Jeff put the cash on the dinning table.

"Okay, thanks dad." Miles smiles being happy he's all alone today. The perfect Saturday, where he can be Spider-man for the day and night just chill.

"Okay, I gotta head to work. See you guys later. Rio take it easy at work. You're pregnant remember." Jeff kisses his wife on the cheek.

"I know. I know." Rio laughs then kisses her husband's cheek. "Bye, mi amor." Then she went over to give Miles hugs and kisses, "Bye, mi vida. Mi bebé!"

"Mamí!" Miles getting his mother's kisses being smothered.

"Be good, okay! Also lock the doors and don't go to the fire escape!"

Miles rolled his eyes. After his parents left, he ate his breakfast and finished his report early. Then he went to spend all day as Spider-man, fighting off some villains here and there. It was a simple day, when he got home he took the twenty five dollars to put in his wallet. If he doesn't order anything with it, his dad let him have it for safe keeping.

The seventeen year old got a bowl of his favorite fruits to enjoy for the night. "Gonna watch some Full Metal Alchemist with some chips, soda and Quenepas!" He happily skips over to his couch and grab his remote to turned on his television to put on his stream. He sips on his soda, "Mmm."

He wore a white tank top with some lime green shorts being barefoot with his hairy legs kicking back and forth. "Mmm, these are so good." He suckles on his favorite fruit.

Unaware of someone coming inside through Miles' fire escape window, with heavy thick combat boots stepping inside with a heavy thud. Miles relax in the living room watching his favorite show and texting Ganke about the episode he finished. "Episode was dope. I'ma try to finish the season tonight."

Ganke texted him with a smiley face. The figure walks carefully not triggering Miles' spidey sense, but his other senses, "Baby, what are you trying to do?"

"Awe, I thought I was giving you a scare, luv." His punker boyfriend pout at him.

"Your boots always makes a loud sound. I'm Spider-man for a reason, bae." His Sunflower's doe eyes looks up at him with a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, you're right. And you possibly knew I was coming by, huh?" Hobie jumps over the couch to sit next to his cute boyfriend. The cushions bouncy up and down making Miles move his bag of chips away from his boyfriend's side.

Hobie grins widely as he lay on his Miles, "Duh, you're my boyfriend. I know, you always want to visit me whenever I'm free or my parents aren't around." His cute darling smirks at him while eating an odd fruit.

"Darling, what are you eating?" Hobie asked being confused.

Miles set his empty glass bottle of cola on the ground, his mouth suckling the sweet citrus fruit, "Quenepas!"

"What?"

"Quenepas! Oh right, that's what Puerto Ricans call these. Um... I think Central Americans call them Mamones." Miles pointed out, as he let Hobie hold the small oval shape fruit. "They're like little gum balls."

"Yeah, and you call them what? Queen-Quene-passe?" Hobie tries to pronounce the word. His fingers hold the fruit like a piece of gem to study it.

"Quenepas! Jamaicans called them, Ginep or Guenepa."

"Ooh, I've heard of these before." Hobie heard it from his childhood friends that use to visit their relatives in Jamaica. "I never tried them."

"Make sense, these are mostly from the Americans. You wanna try it?" Miles asked.

"Yes, luv. How do you eat it?"

"Easy. You just do this," His boyfriend put half of the oval shape fruit in his mouth, he snuck his teeth hard enough to rip open the thick leather-like cover. "Then, you just open the half part." He uses his mouth to take off the peel to reveal the pretty pulp. "This is the pulp, the good part and it covers the seed. So you just pop it in your mouth and suck on it."

"Suck on it?" Hobie's face froze, he turns pink thinking of dirty thoughts.

"Yeah," His boyfriend being naive as always with his honey-brown eyes glued on his show. "These taste like sweet limes. So good. Try it!"

Hobie hold his fruit in his hand to do what Miles did. First, he bit around the peel then pull it away. His dark eyes saw the light orange pulp covering the seed, his mouth opens wide as he pops it inside.

Miles watches his boyfriend's eyes lit up by the fruit. "Good, huh?"

"Luv, these are delicious. It got that bitter taste to it from the lime, too."

"Right, it gives it a nice flavor!" Miles spit the seed out of his mouth to put it in a separate bowl were all the discarded seeds and peels went to. "These are one of my favorite fruits."

"Mmm," Hobie spit the seed out of his mouth letting his tongue tingle by the sour sweet taste of the fruit. It's delicious, but not as delicious as watching his Sunflower suckling on them. The way his beautiful plump lips pucker as he eats the fruit. This gives Hobie an idea, a delightful idea that a wide smirk spread on his face.

"Sunflower, these are good, but I want to try something with these?" The eighteen year old punker hold another fruit quickly opening the peel to put the fruit in his mouth.

"What?" Miles face his boyfriend being caught off guard by Hobie's lips. "Mmmm!" Honey brown eyes widen when he felt his boyfriend's tongue and the Quenepas rolling around between they're tongues.

"Mmm," Hobie groans as he got on top of his Sunflower as they have a heated make out.

Miles' cheeks felt warm being bashful, almost turned on as his tongue plays around with Hobie's. They were still in the beginning of their relationship, so tongue kissing isn't something Miles is good at. He's still shy about their heated kisses and hand holding, because he believes Hobie can do so much better without him.

Their first kiss wasn't as romantic as Miles wanted it to be, because of his lack of experience Hobie gave him a peck on the lips. From the beginning all they did was a simple kiss on the cheek or hand hold, all because the Black Latino isn't use to anything else. This made him more upset with himself, he wants to prove he can try new things instead of being coddle or treated like a delicate little flower. He wants to be daring, sexy and pleased his boyfriend the same way he does with him.

Their tongues play with the fruit having drool coming down their corner of their lips, the sweet taste of the fruit gave a euphoric pleasure running through their bodies. "Ohhh," Miles groans in the back of their throat, "Mmm."

"Mmm," Hobie purrs, letting his tongue flap around his pretty Sunflower's delicious mouth. Their plump lips suckle on the fruit letting their tongues push the seed back and forth. The sounds of their lips smacking got their bodies hot, their lower region a bit harder.

Miles' tongue was a bit weaker, more submissive than Hobie's dominant mouth. His boyfriend is hungry for him, so hungry, Miles could hear his heart beating rapidly. Their Spidey senses kicking high gear, it's nothing they ever felt before.

They could feel it trying to bond with one another, understand each other without saying a word. It's like their Spider senes are communicating based on instincts. Miles' eyes met dark beautiful brown eyes as if they were trying to understand that each other in a much deeper level. They could feel their Spider senses clicking after Hobie gently let Miles take over their kiss.

Click.

Miles'a own hands pulled Hobie into that deep kiss again, this time his teeth nibbling on his man's bottom lip. Their Spider senses now in tune. "Mmm!" They felt their cheeks warm, Miles' eyes being teary from all the feel good pleasure and want from his partner. His legs wrapped around Hobie's waist, letting his hips grind against him.

The punker's hands gripping on couch trying to support himself while Miles' hands wrapped around his face. They keep kissing till they felt the need to pull away. "Mmm!" They both moan again, the sound of the couch and television play in their ears.

Their teeth would nibble a bit of their lips and tongue. Miles felt Hobie's teeth sinking in a bit harder making him shiver with delight. That feels good. The young teenager tries to copy every movement to get better at kissing, he was tired of pecks and small kisses. He wants this.

When Hobie finally pulled away to catch his breath, he could feel his crotch hard, his breathing heavy. Their tongues left a trail of salvia as Miles lay his head on the couch with his teeth holding the seed. The sight of the young Spider-man's swollen plump lips being wrapped around the seed was to tempting for Hobie.

It made him want to do something more. "Hobie..." Miles muffled his words.

"Luv?" Hobie leans over to kiss his cheek, "I overdid, didn't I."

Feeling Hobie's warm breath on his left ear made Miles shudder again. "Mm-Mm." He shook his head. Their bodies were needing each other, they were begging to go further, but- There is always a but, Miles wasn't ready.

Hobie can tell his precious Sunflower is nervous. After all, this is their first time tongue kissing like this. "Miles..." He finally said before he sat back up to help his Sunflower sit back up.

The seventeen year old spit out the clean seed in his hand, he felt bashful, again. "Hobie, we kissed!"

"We always kiss, luv."

"No, we... tongue kiss." He shyly said, "My lips feel weird." He touch them feeling the soft soreness, it doesn't hurt.

"Heh, did you like it?"

Miles turns to him, "Hobie, I wanna kiss like that again!" Then he pouts, "But its okay we only take it slow."

"Sunflower," Hobie's hand caress his beautiful boyfriend's cheek, "You can take as long as you want."

Miles' eyes gleams with love, he quickly took another Quenepas with the peel off. Popping the fruit in his mouth. Then tackle down his boyfriend for another kiss. "Your mine, Hobie Brown!"

"That's what I like to hear, luv." Hobie purrs as they kiss again.

Ever since that day, Quenepas had became Hobie's favorite fruit.

[burningvelvet]

on cancel culture, tumblr, lit crit shit, paranoid reading, and some observations on blogging about byron & the shelleys —

every day someone comments on one of my posts about old dead writers with the most insufferable and reactionary takes disguised under a veil of liberalism. go read eve sedgwick's essay on paranoid reading & reparative reading, and learn how to enjoy things!!! why are you trying to cancel people who died 200 years ago? stop!!!

9/10 times they've never read the writer in question, they just hear that these writers were problematic and without using their own critical thinking skills, and having done zero research, they readily condemn them. no real appreciation for literature, no real appreciation for history or culture. and if they do have these, or if they have done research, it's entirely biased, already marked with judgement (aka exemplary paranoid reading).

i think it's very interesting that percy shelley and lord byron were getting cancelled in their own time period left and right, and now they still face cancellation attempts for some of the same reasons, only now more often at the hands of self-described progressives who feel they do so for the "right reasons."

a major problem in discourse (both in and outside of academia) is that most people do not understand the difference between "criticism" in the academic sense (which is synonymous with "discussion," "analysis," "engagement") and "criticism" in the colloquial sense (synonymous with "condemnation" or "harsh judgement" or even sometimes "attacking").

so when we start talking about literary criticism, some misinformed people automatically seek to cancel every dead writer, burn every book, and disregard all of history, even the progressive bits, because they simply don't care, and think that they are being "critical" and that this is a good thing, when they are using the wrong definition of the term to begin with. if i taught a class on literature the first thing i would do is make the distinction between these two definitions.

a lot of people approach dead writers or old writing in bad faith (paranoid reading). they automatically denounce The Olds for being problematic, and then proceed to believe they are morally superior for their own lack of depth.

percy shelley is one of the most progressive and forward-thinking figures of his generation and it's honestly a miracle that we still have access to some of his works which were literally burned in his own lifetime, but that his friends and most importantly his best friend, his wife mary shelley, carefully preserved during his life and long after his death even in the face of social ruin and censure, because they recognized his immense merit and they desperately loved him and his work. this is a beautiful thing!!!

this isn't the narrative a lot of people prefer, though. a lot of people would have mary shelley, instead of being the publisher and defender of his works as she was, be forced into the role which she herself openly derided, of being percy's unwilling bride, victim, who merely tolerated him, who was herself either repressed or oppressed by him. nor is nuance allowed in this narrative.

this narrative is based on a reactionary stance disguised as progressive. that all women writers are mere victims to the men around them. nevermind the fact that mary shelley's husband was one of her biggest encouragers (as well as her trusted proofreader and editor; and all this also goes for her father godwin, but to a lesser extent, as one could more easily make the argument that godwin did emotionally neglect mary).

paint all male writers as abusive control freaks, and all female writers associated with them as their weak-willed puppets, all based on their biological sex and a surface-level analysis of their biographies. these people are arguably just as bad as the sexist pseudo-scholars who have claimed that percy actually penned the entirety of frankenstein and used mary as his puppeteered pseudonym. as if mary never sought agency of her own and never possessed a modicum of it!

for a fair analysis on percy and mary's connection, i highly recommend Anna Mercer's "The Collaborative Literary Relationship of Percy Bysshe Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley" and her interview by Mathelinda Nabugodi for a TLDR version.

i find it interesting that my posts about percy shelley's personal life are not only much more popular than my similar posts about byron (probably due to percy's surname; the mary/frankenstein connection) -- but also that i see way more criticism against percy than against byron.

i think this is partly due to their portrayals in the ahistorical 2018 mary shelley biopic film (see: graham henderson's blog posts on this topic) wherein byron was somehow portrayed as less of an asshole than shelley (which i never would have thought possible had i not seen it). & maybe it has to do with interest in & misconceptions about mary in general. but this is surprising because in many regards, percy really is much more likeable and progressive than byron.

i once had a person hating on byron and trying to argue with me entirely under a post about percy shelley which had nothing to do with byron. whenever i try to critically engage with this sort of backlash on my posts, it is utterly pointless. none of them are interested in or respectful of the opinions of others, nor are they receptive to facts or nuance or engaging with any material in any mature or serious way.

it's especially difficult that they mostly comment on my more popular joking posts/memes, bc that sets up a false pretense for me or my blog to be taken unseriously, when i do take academic figures & topics seriously. my blog is a place for me to unwind and joke about literature, yes, but it's not like i'm just mindlessly joking about writers i've never studied. a lot of people assume that i'm genuinely ridiculing writers when i playfully make fun of them, so they take it as an invitation to do the same, when that's not my case at all.

— back to the percy/byron comparison: in the history of my blog posts, i've seen probably 30+ percy haters and maybe 5 byron haters. as i said, this is honestly bewildering. there are way more justifiable reasons for hating byron than there are for hating shelley.

if we're speaking solely in terms of political, creative, & ideological stances between the two, (and there are hundreds of books/essays comparing their lives/works/philosophies,) i agree and disagree with both of them on various topics. they're both extremely complex writers/thinkers/figures and very different people, despite having been friends.

but if i'm comparing them biographically speaking, if i had to let one of them babysit my children, i would choose percy 10/10 times. if i had to live with one of them, i would choose percy most of the time, although either of them would be tough as a roommate for different reasons.

but overall, percy was a bit more decent biographically speaking, though that doesn't make him a superior writer (percy himself wrote numerous times that he felt byron was creatively superior to him, but morally inferior). and i think most people who've researched the two would agree that percy is the more moral poet by most standards.

for these and many other reasons, it seems apparent to me that the majority of people who hate percy are often parroting the rhetoric of others & not actually thinking for themselves -- which mary endlessly wrote that she despised, as she devoted so much of her time and energy to defending her husband's moral character from critics, so it's especially disappointing that most of the anti-percy sentiment comes from mary shelley fans, who don't even realize how much effort she put into publishing his work and transcribing it as his pre- and posthumous amanuensis.

[ardent-heretic]

My Wife and I have an amusing long term fight. We moved in together in 2003. I immediately took it upon myself to do something. I always pump my Wife’s gas. This is nonnegotiable. The main reason is weather. No need for her to shiver in the winter. But it is August.

The other reason was safety. Where we grew up in Chicago there was a thing. While a woman pumped gas, she would be facing the pump. Drug atticts figured out all the doors would be unlocked. So they would open the passenger door and snatch the purse or nowadays, the phone. It happened a lot in Chicago. Because of this I pump my woman’s gas. There is also the small risk of getting in an argument with an unstable motherfucker. But that is not so much.

We now live in a great community. We don’t have too many meth heads running around. Still, I pump gas. I always do it. It’s my job in life.

My Wife hates this. She is always saying,”You know I can pump my own gas?” I tell her it is not allowed. Though she never really says it in January when it is -6 outside. This comes up often in our lives. I always say she could check her gas gauge once in a while and give me a heads up when it is below a quarter tank. She will say it’s fine. And I will joke she probably doesn’t even know where the gas gauge is or which side of the car has the gas cap. That irritates her. And irritating her is what I do best.

Today is Friday and I realize I haven’t put gas in her car. So I’m like “Will you ever tell me when it’s low?” And she will counter with her I can do this rhetoric. It a silly little back and forth we have. But today was different.

We are marathoning an old tv show we never saw. Enjoy it immensely. On Monday night we saw an episode where a gunman tried to steal a purse from a woman pumping gas. I immediately say,”Hey! We just watched that episode with the purse snatcher at the gas station. You should know why I do this.” I smile cuz I now have the upper hand in our 20+ year feud.

She replies,” No, that is why you shouldn’t pump gas. I would hand over my purse and cancel the credit cards. Where you would charge the guy and get shot.”

I say, “I could take him though.” Realizing I no longer have the upper hand in our fight.

The battle continues.

[the-marron]

Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by @forerussake , thank you 🥰

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

Hmmm, a hard question right off the bat, because even if I am no longer actively seeking the ship content out anymore, usually I retain a lot of fondness for it, so there are precious few ships I used to be into and that I am simply meh about now, but I think it would be ShikaIno, from Naruto. Canon came at me hard, so while I have some fondness for it, it is what it is, and I am not that much into Naruto anymore either way, so it doesn't hurt much.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Simba/Nala? Lol 😂 but in all seriousness, I think it would be BatCat. Or Aragon/Arwen, I am very hazy on the details when exactly I imprinted on those, the timeline is not clear

3. Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Read or written? Read: no idea, I think it might have been some self-insert into Inuyasha universe? Written: Sirius/Remus

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw fanart of?

Nope. When I discovered the internet I discovered all of it at an alarming pace, but my bet would be on either Sirius/Remus or some couple from W.I.T.C.H

5. Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

I try not to. I have opinions, yes, and I like discussing them with friends, but I try not to make it anyone's problem - everyone will ship what they want to ship and find different dynamics compelling, so I don't think it necessary to crusade one way or another because one ship is superior to another. It's all very subjective.

6. Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I have quite a bit! Funnily enough I have some canon ships I absolutely dislike and can go off about whenever I catch a poor, innocent victim to listen to my rant.

But my general rule is that I don't like OT3s. In any fandom, in any form, it's just not for me at all. To make matters worse, I am a monoshipper at heart, which usually means that I have a dynamic/ship that I like with characters A and B, and it makes me lose interest in all the other configurations with them. So maybe not an active NoTP but very unlikely for me to read A/C if I committed myself to A/B.

Special shout out to Weilanzun, because this is my most recently acquired NOTP.

And to Batman/Talia Al Ghul which is my longest reigning one.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Zhou Ying/Bai Ling from Tai Sui 🥺 my poor white half-demon, hopelessly devoted to his prince... And so few fics with them ;_;

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Plenty. I don't abandon old ones, I just collect them together in my jar of ships and rattle it from time to time, to see how they sparkle together.

But from my most recent and long-term commitments: Weilan, Luolin, Heixie, Luo Qingeng/Jiang Yang (do they have a name???) and BatCat, forever and ever

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Well, the story is a story, so as long as it makes sense that these characters do not end up together, then I am okay with it, that's what we have fanfiction for, right?

BUT

I am still not over that wedding stunt DC Comics pulled with BatCat. Months of teasing, of promising the wedding, the freaking wedding albums being released and then the WEDDING DIDN'T HAPPEN. They broke up instead because Batman has to be the dark, sad, lonely something something and you can't be a hero if you have a wife. 50 years and DC Comics is going backwards in this regard :/

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Not sure? Nothing comes to mind. But I am very open to being pulled into/converted into ships as long as they are not on my black list, and even then I try to keep an open mind, in case something clicks.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, would've been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Hah, a lot, because I got into shipping as a teenager. So reading romances about other teenagers felt normal and all but now I don't feel the need to revisit them.

12. What is your favorite crack ship?

Ha. Not today, Satan. One moment I am joking about a crack ship and the next I have 10k words written about it and like 3 sad headcanons and a shipping chart ready.

13. What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Oh wow, good question. If I like a ship, then I tend to read through the entire Ao3 tag of theirs, sometimes more than once because what if I missed some gem in the first go? So it would come down to the sheer numbers of fics, I think. So that would be either Sterek, Stucky or Eames/Arthur (fun fact: this is also the first fandom that introduced to me the concept of derivs)

14. What do most of your ships usually have in common?

Devotion. Very often the conflict between their feelings and their duties/ loyalty towards something they cared about before they met the other.

I like both sides of the ship to be competent at their respective fields and torn apart by their own choices and priorities. The 'I love you but do I love you enough to abandon everything I am'?. I like both answers more or less equally: both the 'yes, it's us against the world now' and 'I hope we won't meet on the battlefield' are set ups I enjoy immensely. But I also like smart-asses annoying each other into marriage one witty comeback at a time.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Imbalance of attachment. If the ship seems terribly one-sided, like one character is putting in all of the work and tries and tries, and tries while the other mercifully sometimes acknowledges them, then it's a no for me.

Same with the 'if you patiently wait for this person to like you, even though they told you 10 times they won't, then they eventually will' trope, like someone's love is what you earn through steadiness and hard-work.

I like both parts to be equally unwell about their partner, one way or another. They can be sickeningly domestic and gushing, or they can be crazy in that 'no one defeats him, but me!' kind of way, but they have to be in balance on the insanity scale. I like when characters grow into their relationship and both affect one another, falling more and more in love with each other as they go, but not when one person is a prize the other has to win/outwait/earn.

Thanks again for the tag, that was a nice bit of soul-searching there, very fun 👌😌

Tagging: @baiyubai , @babischlong-six , @mjsakurea, @mejomonster, @elenothar

[internerdionality]

Rejection-sensitive dysphoria is WILD, y'all. Seriously, I hate my neurology sometimes.

You see, my brain is absolutely convinced that no one could possibly love me. Any evidence to the contrary is accepted for—if I'm lucky—about fifteen minutes before I immediately start doubting it and searching for more. The slightest ambivalence on the part of any person I care about can and will reduce me to a quivering bundle of anxiety and distress.

And like, here's the thing, maybe this made more sense twenty years ago but the idea that I am unloved is completely and utterly absurd on the face of it. I have a wife and two other nesting partners who have chosen to take my last name as a symbol of our chosen familial relationship, all of who tell me they love me on a daily basis.

I have several, like a dozen, very close friends who consider themselves (and whom I consider to be, but obviously the first part is more important here) my chosen family. People who come over to my house (if they live nearly) and hug me and tell me that they love me frequently.

Two days ago I had a serious, in-depth conversation with one of them just about how much we love each other and want to be part of each other's lives long term.

I am flying tomorrow to be the mistress of honor in another one of those friends' weddings, someone who tells me how happy she is to have me as her "person" as a regular basis.

Oh and like, my actual blood family is also... pretty emotionally healthy? Like there's the inevitable inherited trauma and shit but I see my siblings and parents on a daily and weekly basis and I know they're always going to be there for me when I need them. My dad is coming over in an hour to take me out to lunch just because I had to cancel on a concert last week and he wants to spend some one-on-one time with me.

I have SUBSTANTIAL proof that I am, in fact, a very lovable person.

And yet, because a friend (a good friend, one I've had for almost ten years, someone who has gotten on a plane specifically to see me on multiple occasions) took the weekend before confirming a lunch date for next week (and she did confirm, this isn't even a rejection) I'm reduced to sobbing anxiously on the couch, convinced that she doesn't really want to see me.

WHY?!?! WHY IS MY FUCKING BRAIN LIKE THIS?

[novankenn]

2am (Chp 4)

--== Table of Contents ==--

It had been nearly three years since that day. The day Jaune Arc walked out of her life. Her legal team had reviewed the documents, and quickly advised her to agree to the terms. They were fair, and had clauses that allowed for amendment of the agreements at later dates, if a need to do so arose. So she signed them as she cried. Memories of times that shouldn't have happened feeding her depression. It had signalled a very dark time in her life, and she spiralled out of control. Loosing herself to drink, risky missions, and other activities.

“What are you doing to yourself!” screamed her mother as Pyrrha nursed a bad hangover on the couch of her mother's house. “Pyrrha, what is going on?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not fine! You are far from fine!” Athena Nikos was livid, embarrassed, and frustrated. “So you are going to tell me what is going on with you, and I mean now!”

“Nothing is going on!” Pyrrha shouted back.

“Really? REALLY?” Athena grabbed a bunch of printed off tabloid articles, and threw them down on the coffee table before her daughter, “He IS a married man, Pyrrha! A married man!”

“His wife's a bitch.”

“And what about that video of you and that girl?” Athena was about to totally lose it. “Are you intentionally trying to destroy yourself? You are better than this! You have a daughter to look out for!”

“I don't have a daughter! She's gone! He took her away!”

“And I wonder why he felt the need to do that? I wonder?”

“Fuck you!”

“No, this is done. Get out of my house! You want to make yourself into a laughingstock then go, go whore yourself out like you have been. Go live in the bottom of a bottle, but you sure as fuck won't be getting any more support from me!” Athena moved to the table, and grabbed another handful of papers, throwing them into her daughter's face, “And here, these are all the contract cancellation notices.”

“What the fuck. They can't...” Pyrrha grabbed a couple of the papers and tried to focus on the fine print of the scattered documents.

“They can and did!” Athena was past livid now. She loved her daughter, and it tore her apart seeing her crumble from stress into addiction. But she was at her wits end at what to do. So finally, much like the father of her granddaughter did, she had to just distance herself. “Out!”

/=/

Jaune and Azalea had moved to Argus not long after Pyrrha had signed the custody and support agreements. He did it for a few reasons. To get away from the memories of his failed attempt at a life with Pyrrha in Vale. To be closer to his eldest sister, her wife and Az's only current cousin; and to be able to at least give Az a chance to know her mother's side of the family with twice weekly over night stays with her grandmother.

He knew Pyr was floundering. Years of constantly being in the public eye finally cracking all her will, and forcing to succumb to the stress, in less than healthy ways. Yet, he had to focus his concerns on Azalea. It was underhanded, he knew, but with tips offs from Az's grandmother, he avoided ever being around the house when Pyrrha was crashing there. He isolated his daughter from the train wreck her mother had become. Jaune didn't want to keep the two most important people in his life apart, but Azalea didn't deserve to see what her mother was becoming. She deserved to only have happy memories of her mother.

On good days, he was more than happy to drop Azalea off at her grandmother's, to spend much needed time with her mother, but those times quickly became less and less. Pyrrha was spiralling, and Jaune instinctively knew he had to protect Az from the disaster that was approaching. He wanted to reach out to Pyrrha, to wrap his arms around her, and make her struggles go away... but right now with what she was doing, it wasn't possible.

The support payments had made his life taking care of his growing girl easier, and allowed him a bit more freedom to pursue his new passion. He had long given up on the huntsman myth. He saw what that life was doing to his friends, and even though he started out wanting to be a hero, after Azalea's birth he understood something more. Heroes didn't have to be warriors fighting darkness, they could be someone offering warm hugs, and soft cheek kisses. He was Azalea's hero, and that was to him the greatest achievement he could have ever accomplished.

It was in the second year after his move to Argus, that Athena made a request of him. He had always been taught to give the courtesy of listening when someone wanted to speak with you, so he did. Without hesitation, agreed, to her request.

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Dear Ones All,

Many years ago I heard our minister’s wife make a rather negative comment, followed by, “Cancel that!”

Curious, I asked why she followed up with that statement. That was my introduction to the concept that thoughts really do matter, and if you aren’t careful, they will show up in your life, leaving you wondering how they got there.

That is pretty much the story of my life. Perhaps it is for you, too. We say things – and we feel things – not ever realizing the long-term impact they will have for us in the long run.

Recently this very subject surfaced in my reading (re-reading, actually) and it came at a fortuitous time for me as I was trying to find a way through something that had presented itself in my life. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I had been sowing the seeds for this manifestation for many years simply by being careless about allowing negative thoughts and feelings to find their home within me.

It was with great relief that I found my answers in two books - Dr. Joe Dispenza’s book, “Evolve Your Brain” and Dr. David Hawkins’ book, “Healing & Recovery.”

The gist of what they are saying has to do with the fact that every unkind, hurtful, angry, anxious, etc, thought or feeling we have actually disturbs the natural balance in our body’s energy system. Over time, that influence builds up until we begin to experience dis-ease and/or di-stress of some kind or other.

So what can you do about all of that “negative” energy that has been stored in your 100 billion cells?

Here are a few suggestions they offered:

1.Begin by seeking to re-align yourself with your highest truth.

2.Acknowledge that you are only subject to what you hold in mind.

3.Let go of resistance to what your present experience is and cancel the thought form/belief system that supports the present manifestation.

4.Align yourself with the energy field of Gratitude and Love.

5. And finally, never let a negative thought go unchallenged. Why? Because the nature of whatever you “send out” will eventually become your own experience.

Bottom line: Owning your thoughts and feelings requires a lot of compassion, acceptance, forgiveness, and yes – a lot of gratitude for the wake-up call that life is trying to give you.

Sending you love,

Donna Miesbach

[chadwickbosemanfanfic]

Please note that this is NOT to disrespect Chadwick Boseman in anyway. This is strictly fanfic. If you are concerned with fanfic after his passing, I totally understand and suggest that you do not read this post. Again, it is strictly fanfic.

Synopsis: So much can happen when the cameras are gone. Rihanna has known about an article where Chadwick Boseman mentioned her. When the two finally run into one another a year after the publication, they share a moment in time that becomes a secret they’ll never forget.

THEIR SECRET (2/3)

The First Night

QUICK RECAP (Their Secret 1/3) —

… He stood to meet her embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck. His slipped around her waist. The stilettos gave her the height to mold into him perfectly. They felt each other exhale against the contact. “Spend a night with me,” now it was a question, whispered in his right ear before she pulled back.

“One night sounds impossible,” his eyes lowered on her as her face came into view.

“Then we can make it two. See you in five,” she didn’t wait for a reply. She smiled slightly, sashaying toward the private lounge exit.

The image of her lingered long after she was gone. Including the scent of her perfume. A part of him felt distant from the moment as if he was only imagining it. Uncertain. Conflicted. He contemplated, taking one last look towards the exit.

He flagged down the bartender to cancel the order of drinks. Closed his tab. Headed for the exit, fishing out the phone vibrating in his pocket. Read the screen. Slid the bar to the right, placing the phone to his ear.

“Pops, how are you?”

“Blessed, son. How are you? Sounds like something’s going on?”

“Your timing,” he shook his head. “Facing somewhat of a dilemma,”

“Talk to me,”

Stepping outside of the lounge, he eased up his hood to conceal himself for as much and as long as he could. He spotted the opening elevators and a growing crowd. He hung back.

“I, uh,” he knew his father was a straight shooter. No need in beating around the bush. “I’m considering spending the night with someone I’ve been intrigued by for years. Someone other than Simone.”

“Her name?”

“Out of discretion for her, I—,”

“No, no, I understand. Is this a fan?”

He thought about it. “Not exactly. You know I would never exploit a fan,” he pretended to be interested in a stand of newspapers, waiting for pockets of people to disperse in separate elevators.

“Well, you have more to think about in regards to the long-term girlfriend who may very well become your wife,”

“Which makes this a confession,” he lowered his head down on the newspaper as a crowd strolled by. “Before committing the crime.”

“Son, you are a man of integrity and I have known you to be nothing less. Don’t let the overnight fame get you in something you can’t get out of. We are honorable men and I don’t expect you to compromise that with some woman you’ve met, whom you don’t see a future with.”

Chadwick offered only silence, clinging to the word future. He and his father both knew how fickle that word meant now.

“Chad, are you there?”

“I’ve been on the straight-and-narrow my entire life. Give or take a few growing pains,” he paused. “Life has seemed to give up on me before I’m ready to give up on it.”

“I know where this is going,” his father exhaled. “This is not the kind of decision you should make under these circumstances. You’re one of the most disciplined, admirable men I know, Son. There ain’t no need in me preaching about what you should and should not do as I know this is not how you have ever navigated life. All I offer is that you be safe. Not just for yourself but also for her and the permanent people in your life before and after your last breath. And ain’t no need in overthinking about that either. Our legacy are the lives that we touch, which I know you are well aware. Like you have always done, be mindful of the impression you imprint on others.”

Someone near the elevator appeared to be pointing in his direction. “Thanks, Pops, I gotta go.”

“Be safe, Son.”

Chadwick placed the newspaper calmly and neatly before making a smooth break in the opposite direction. He cut a corner in search of an alternative route, opting for the grand staircase in the distance.

***

Chadwick approached the door, lowering his hood. Just as he was about to knock with an opposite hand, the door swung open. His eyes lowered with his fist, a relaxed gaze taking in every inch of her.

“Boseman,”

He smiled.

“How many autographs did it cost you to make it here?”

“None,”

“Ah, stealth,” she glanced over her shoulder. “That’s to be expected. And you made it on time,” her eyes appreciated the slight nervousness in his, “It cost me about 20,” she flashed her manicured fingers, bucking her eyes to exaggerate her statement and to lighten the mood. “A cute family of four nearly followed me here. But, of course, security,” she stepped forward, gripping his arms to adjust him slightly. She popped her head out into the hallway. Waved. Behind dark shades, the guard only offered a nod. She pulled back and eyed Chadwick. “No worries, he minds his business and is quite harmless,” she stepped back, looking him from head-to-toe and back up again. “You smell like I thought you would.”

His laugh was more of a grunt out of surprise just as she slipped her palm in his, guiding him inside.

“Mind if I take your jacket,” she turned to face him, releasing his hand, missing its firmness and warmth. She watched him bring the pullover past his head down to be folded neatly in his hands. She admired the length of his fingers and the visible veins with his movements. His nails were full and clean. She stopped his hands from folding. “Relax,” she winked, taking the pullover to toss it beside them. It unfolded as it landed on a chair. She stepped further inside the room. He followed.

“Sometimes, I schedule getaways. Staycations for me to just relax,” she looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze. “To silence the noise.” When he came to a stop, so did she. “Someone on your mind?”

He took a step aside. “There’s a lot on my mind,”

“That’s not what I asked you,”

“Well, of course. But I’m here… with you.”

She smiled, extending her hand. “Then be fully present and join me.”

Her palm was soft, cool. Taking small steps behind her, his eyes traced the neck tattoo hidden beneath curls. He slowed them down, tugging at her hand for her to shift and mold into him. He inhaled, drawing in her fragrance. Subtle. Feminine. Sexy. She felt his chest rise against her back and relax when he exhaled. There was always something mysterious about him. Concealed emotions that she felt now through his touch. It was this thought that made her feel sexy against him.

She cut her eyes over her shoulder, letting him get a glimpse of her consent before his lips came near her left ear. To her surprise, he didn’t say anything. At least not with words. She felt a small kiss. Then, another on her neck. Lower. She didn’t feel his hand leave hers but felt his finger brush away curls cascading from her ponytail. His lips brushed against the back of her neck, making her eyes close. She tried to keep her breathing steady. His kisses were patient, much like his hands. She felt strong fingers intertwine with hers. She relaxed against him completely, happy she decided to keep on her heels. She maneuvered a little against his pelvis, satisfied when she heard him draw in a breath. Suddenly, she felt his warmth disappear.

She opened her eyes, feeling a little disappointed as his fingers slipped from hers. She watched him head towards the phone, stopping himself to take in the view.

“All of this on the third floor?”

“A hidden gem,” she smiled. “What are you doing?”

“You said you wanted champagne. I don’t think I would have made it up with two bar glasses. I’ll order a bottle,”

She stepped forward, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re nervous?”

“Not exactly,”

“Prove it,” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. She adjusted her stance under his gaze, playfully rolling her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

For the first time, watching her closely, he realized she was nervous too.

He smiled, assessing their surroundings. “We can enjoy this together and still respect those we are with,”

“Pardon me,”

“I know you’re with ASAP,”

“We are merely dating,”

“I have a feeling there’s something more there than you’re willing to admit in this moment,”

She felt exposed.

“No judgment, of course,” it was his turn to extend his hand. “Tell me what you want.” … to be continued.

[opinated-user]

Lily seethes with jealousy. When I see her get angry at TOH, a good show that has helped a lot of people through real-life trauma, spawned lots of fanfics, fanart and cosplays, a show that gave us breakthrough representation and wonderful character dynamics between both friends and romantic partners that feel natural and logical for who these people are, what I hear isn't "I hate TOH". What I hear is "I'm a 30 year old basement dweller furious that someone else's good writing and creative drive has given them more success than my self-insert OC fanfic ever will".

When she was aphobic as hell towards SF Debris, that was the vibe I got then, too. "How dare this Jewish asexual man be so good at analyzing sci-fi and so in-depth? He read A Tale of Two Cities and Moby Dick in order to refresh himself on the material so he can properly explain the quotes from them used in Star Trek: Wrath of Khan and talk about literary parallels? That sucks! What about my reviews where I dunk on shows I haven't watched? Why isn't that getting me the acclaim and income he has? Why does he get to have a stable income, a wife and a functional family? Why not me?!??"

When she tried hard to erase aivi & surrashu's contributions to Steven Universe's soundtrack, all I heard is, "I'm jealous of this Vietnamese NB in a happy, long-term marriage with a neurodivergent man. I pretend to be a POC and alternate between telling people I'm autistic and have ADHD, why didn't success fall into my lap?! Oh, just because they put in hard work and create original work, they get to be well-regarded?! What about me? I kinda sorta review cartoons sometimes! Where's my status?!"

She screams a lot, but no matter how many people she calls things, no matter how many queer people and POC and neurodivergent people she hates, at the end of the day she's alone in her room like always. She's alone with a dwindling fanbase, very limited acclaim, increasing levels of criticism for her past actions, and almost no friends. No one will ever cosplay one of her characters or eagerly hand over hundreds of dollars to her because of her good analysis of character actions and literary parallels or find her through original, non-fandom based work.

I don't think even Lily is so stupid she can't recognize that TOH has better writing than her work. I think she realizes it and it hurts her, and she's lashing out rather than putting in the work.

If she worked hard and tried, even her writing could be improved. Reading and researching like SF Debris does for his reviews is 100% an option for any internet reviewer if they're willing to put in the work. Creating original, non-fandom based work is not difficult, and though it takes a lot of marketing yourself and persistence to make it as an original content creator, we're in a golden era of webtoons, web comics and original fiction on the web. She could, if she tried, be better. But she's too immature to try, so instead of getting better, she just screams into her microphone and cries on tumblr, eternally angry, eternally irrelevant.

She reminds me more and more of a canceled Fox News host - a bitter conservative too toxic to work with other conservatives anymore, whose online presence decreases in visibility as it fades in relevance.

.