#one day I will disengage entirely
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Could i ask for a Law x FemReader with the “accidental kiss” prompt?, and if possible, could law have a crush on the reader if you decide to do this ask?
(Love your fics)
-anon
DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Accidental Kiss
WARNINGS: Fluff
CHARACTERS: Law
WORDS: 1,270
A/N: Hi there, thank you for this prompt based request. I hope you like what I came up with for this one.
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST
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The chatter among the crew at the breakfast table was as lively as ever. The meals on the Polar Tang were always savoured for everyone to connect and enjoy the time together before everyone resigned themselves away to take on their tasks for the day. You’d finished your meal but remained sitting, holding your mug of coffee close as you let the heat radiate into your hands, the thought of drinking it gone from your mind as you only focussed on your Captain. Your eyes remained on his and you smiled softly as you listened with keen interest before giving your input to the conversation with Law.
While other chatter sounded around you, the pair of you were unaware of the looks you were receiving. Penguin and Shachi were trying to hold back their smirks, Bepo and Ikkaku stared with dreamy expressions while the others looked at the scene before them completely baffled. All of them saw how obvious it was you and the Captain shared a deep connection and held even deeper feelings for each other. Why hadn’t either of you noticed or tried to act on those feelings before? In the crew’s eyes the two of you were already a couple in all but name and acknowledgement from you and Law.
When you finally brought your lips to you mug your gaze broke reluctantly from Law’s face and you caught sight of the time. As much as you could have easily spent the entire day talking to Law about anything and everything you knew your chores wouldn’t do themselves. With a sigh you finished your drink and began to rise, gathering the cleared plates and bowls close to you to take them to the sink. As you leant forward to reach for something just out of your grasp, Jean Bart spoke up to ask Law a question, causing him to turn his head. Then the chatter stopped instantly and the dining hall froze in its entirety, everyone taking in the sight of Law’s lips against yours.
You didn’t even know how it happened, your mind couldn’t register the odds of this kind of thing happening. One second you were reaching for a bowl, the next your Captain’s lips were against yours and you were unable to move and the look in Law’s eyes told you everything; it was an accident and he seemed just as bewildered by the situation as you were. You couldn’t hold back the heat bursting against your skin or silence the heavy hammering of your heart in your chest.
It felt like time had stopped when really the whole thing lasted a few seconds. You didn’t even know how either of you managed to find the strength to disengage but you did it. While Law quickly made his way to the safety of his study, away from the prying eyes and excited whispers. You however weren’t so privileged. You spent as long as possible standing at the sink, scrubbing the dishes for as long as you could, keeping your gaze on the water and not on the others of the crew you could feel were lingering in the room. When there was nothing else for you to clean you had no choice but to finally go to your assigned task for the day. Thankfully it was just you and Bepo doing the monthly stock check of the medical supplies which took most of the day and it was thankfully filled with silence due to complete concentration needing to be had.
However you knew Bepo’s lack of comment on the morning’s incident was too good to be true because when it came to delivering the updated stock numbers to Law, the damned bear was suddenly overcome with one of his stomachaches and needed to lie down immediately. You muttered curses over and over as you made your way to Law’s office. Briskly you knocked on his door and entered when he called for you to enter. At first you thought you could pretend that what had happened never happened but when you walked in and met his gaze you faltered. You couldn’t help but glance at his lips while tightly pressing your own into a tight line. Quickly you inwardly berated yourself for your juvenile reaction. With a sharp clearing of your throat you continued into his office. All you needed to do was give him the papers and leave, it was easy, you’d done it hundreds of times before.
“No Bepo?” Law asked, trying to find something, anything to speak about to delay talking about the kiss.
“Stomachache.” You explained, slipping the papers into his hand and then you paused. Normally you would stay and chat but if you did this time would he be thinking you were staying for something else? But if you left immediately then that would be out of character and would make him think something was wrong, that you didn’t want to be around him anymore which couldn’t be further from the truth. What if he wanted you to leave because of what happened? Your mind was spinning and you couldn’t see an answer anywhere. Finally through your thoughts Law’s voice saying your name made you focus. “Yes?” You answered immediately.
“Was he okay?” Law asked, never forgetting his role as a Doctor even though he knew the bear would be more than okay. He highly suspected this was an instance that the navigator was lying, still he had to check.
“You could offer to kiss him better.” Your joke came before your brain could stop you and you regretted it instantly, hands flying over your mouth as though you could force the words back. You always made jokes like this but given what had happened between you both this morning it just brought the memory and the feeling of his lips on yours flooding back. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” You rambled behind your hands.
You and Law stared at each other and finally he broke the silence and the tension by laughing, all but relieved that you were just as much as a mess as he was about it all. Seeing him laugh let you join in and it felt as though the weight on your shoulders and anxiety of that accidental kiss possibly ruining everything between you disappeared. It felt like how it normally did and you could breathe easier now. As the laughter eased away you caught your Captain staring at your lips just as you had his when you entered his office. “Permission to say as unexpected as it was, it was a nice kiss, Captain?”
“Permission granted.” Law smirked at you. “Though you must be easily pleased if that impressed you.”
“Wow you’re so arrogant.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I said it was nice, not that it blew my mind forever. I was just being kind.”
“Not arrogance if it’s fact.” Law replied smoothly as he rose from his seat to stand in front of you, his lips as close as possible without touching. “I can give you a real kiss now and ‘blow your mind forever’ as you phrased it?”
“You’re welcome to try, Captain.” You murmured, leaning your head back just a fraction and grinning in satisfaction to see him respond by leaning in again to maintain the infuriatingly close distance between you. There was a brief beat between you both before the space was closed and your lips met. You all but melted into Law’s touch and he was right. Compared to this kiss right now, what you’d shared in the dining room that morning was nothing but a happy accident.
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#one piece#one piece imagines#one piece fic#one piece x you#one piece x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law x you#one piece scenario#one piece fanfiction#trafalgar law#law x reader#law x you#law one piece#one piece law#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar one piece#trafalgar op
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there was a lot of mistakes made in the live action but the worst one without reservation was that the creators did not understand patriarchy and they did not understand women's liberation outside of an american context ( or any context if we're being honest )
it's easy to see on a surface level how that fucked up katara's whole character how she wasn't allowed to have her character defining moments how she wasn't allowed to be angry or even excited or impulsive but i think it doesn't really become clear how deeply wrong the show's conception of gender & patriarchy is (and the implications for the political landscape of the show) until you get into how they destroyed sokka's character too
sokka's whole Complex is born of patriarchy. i'm not trying to do men's rights advocacy here but in my experience when a people is under constant threat, constant assault, constant violence (much of which is gendered) and the traditional "protectors" or "providers" of that people are men, the masculine role becomes protecting women and children. i am not saying this is a good thing or a bad thing but it is true the narrative of violent resistance is overwhelmingly about men. to be a man in a time & place like this means fighting to protect your women, & to die for them is honorable. that is where sokka gets this idea that he has to be a warrior & he has to fight & if necessary die for katara & the rest of the tribe. it's about duty. everyone has a part to play, a role to fill
everyone including women! which is the other half of this. the duty of women is to keep up the home, to maintain a country worth fighting & dying for, to raise children so that the community can have a future. it becomes especially obvious in the context of the show when you see how the nwt lives & in specific how yue lives and dies.
many women participate in patriarchy. many colonized women participate in patriarchy. most of my family comes from or still lives in a country completely devastated by colonialism & its aftereffects & many women in my family believe wholeheartedly in the idea that everyone in the house has a role to play. it's not because these women are stupid or they hate themselves. but when you grow up believing that men & women are fundamentally different, and seeing that women are in specific danger because of their gender, it actually makes a lot of sense to expect the men in your family to protect you, and to raise your sons that way.
in practice that means that men aren't really expected to do anything around the house, especially when there's no actual danger. my aunt literally 2 days ago told me this lol like she doesn't make her sons do anything bc she wants to let their lives be easy before they have to go out into the world & take care of their wives & children.
what does women's liberation look like when an entire community is under threat? colonized women have been dealing with this question as long as colonialism has existed. the writers of this show don't even pretend to understand the question, much less to formulate a thoughtful response to it. they just say oh, well, katara, yue, & suki are all the exact same type of liberated girlboss for whom patriarchy is no significant obstacle.
which brings us back to sokka lol. sokka, at the beginning of the show, has completely subscribed to patriarchy, has integrated it into his sense of self. he has a lot of flaws, but he also has a lot of really good traits. his bravery, sense of honor, loyalty, work ethic, selflessness, all of this came from him striving to be a good man. he would die to protect katara, because she's his sister. he also has her wash his socks & mend his clothes, because she's his sister. even after he meets suki, humbles himself, & expands his view of the role a woman can play, he doesn't completely disengage from patriarchy. at the end of the day he believes in his soul that a good man's duty is to fight & if necessary die for his people, & that's exactly his plan. this is a very real psychic burden. pre-aang, it's also largely fictional & completely ridiculous. we're SUPPOSED to think it's ridiculous. he's spending his time training babies & working on his little watchtower. the swt hasn't been attacked since their mother was killed because it has been completely stripped of all value or danger it once held for the fire nation, & everybody knows this. there is very little "men's work" left, aside from hunting & fishing, which is so damaging to sokka's self image he resorts to toddler bootcamp to feel useful. the contradiction here is comical. it's also completely devastating. that's supposed to be the fucking POINTTTT like colonialism & patriarchy convinces this young boy he needs to be a soldier & die for his family. & you know what he does? He acts like a young boy about it. they didn't just leave this unexplored in the remake they completely changed the circumstances to 1. make sokka incompetent for some reason 2. make his "preparations" seem less ridiculous. Which ruins the whole character. Possibly the whole show.
all this makes the writing of katara & the other women infinitely more offensive to me. katara is a good character because she believes in revolution. she wants to liberate her people from imperialism, & she wants to liberate women from colonial gendered violence, traditional patriarchy in her own culture, & the complicated ways those things interact. it is LITERALLY the first thing you're supposed to learn about her. she's the PERFECT vehicle to address the question of women's liberation under colonialism. one of the things i was most looking forward to seeing in this show was how labor is distributed in a place where almost everything that needs to get done is "women's work" & how it affects katara & sokka's day to day relationship when their lives weren't at risk constantly. what actually are her responsibilities every day, & how do they compare to sokka's? how does her grandmother enforce these traditions with katara & sokka, & how is that informed by her own experiences in the nwt? what does patriarchy look like in a tribe made up of mostly women & children? it's so important to who katara is & what she believes! but why bother exploring any of that when u could instead make her a shein model who has nothing in common with the source material except her hairstyle lol.
yue is actually even worse to me bc yue is supposed to be sokka's counterpart. she's supposed to show you how destructive it is for women specifically to internalize this gendered duty so completely. it sucks for sokka, but he is a man & thus his prescribed role gives him some agency. yue's role affords her no agency whatsoever, & this is the POINT. to make her someone who's allowed to break things off with her fiance if she likes, who sneaks off to do what she wants when she's feeling stressed, whose will is respected as a monarch, like what is even the point of yue anymore? in the original the whole reason she was even allowed to spend time with sokka was because her father knew she was with a trustworthy boy. her story completely loses all significance when the dimension of patriarchy is removed from it. the crux of her whole story is that she is not just a princess but the literal & spiritual representation of the motherland. that's what women are supposed to represent during wartime, at the cost of their own sense of self. in order to fulfill her duty to her people she gives her life to them in every single way that matters.
it's just so unbelievably frustrating (and WRONG) that the only types of characters for these writers are "soulless misogynistic fuck" and "liberated american-style feminist." there's no nuance at all! they don't bother exploring how real love manifests in patriarchal communities, & how patriarchy defines the limits of that love. or how for so many of these people their idea of goodness, morality, & honor is gendered. or how imperialism affects not just individuals but entire cultures & their conceptions of gender. but why do any actual work when you could completely change sokka & katara's general demeanors, their entire personalities, & their roles in the tribe so you can dodge any & all nuance
Anyways. in conclusion. it was bad
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HC: How They Respond To Someone Flirting With You
At first he is subtle about his jealousy, his jaw tightens, he shifts a little closer. He makes an off-handed remark to whoever is causing the jealousy ("Yes, my partner and I went out for breakfast yesterday. We enjoyed it.").
If the stranger persists so does Zayne. Now it's an arm lightly curling around your waist. It's a kiss to the top of your head, a rare display of affection despite others nearby. The statements become more claiming, like "I am lucky to call them mine."
And if still whoever is the culprit does not get the hint, Zayne's passive-aggressiveness grows. He all out disengages from the situation entirely, "If you'll excuse us." Guiding you away with a hand firmly in the small of your back.
He doesn't blame you, he expects it. After all what he said is true, he knows he's lucky to have you. The night ends early, as he takes you back to his apartment. When you're alone, he's clingy. Hands on your face, then your hips. He kisses you more than usual, muttering compliments like curses, "I should have known with you being so beautiful." or "Let me show you how perfect you are."
Needless to say, you don't get much sleep.
It takes Xavier a moment to realize what is going on, but after he puts the pieces together his stance changes. His normally casual slouched posture straightens. His eyes, blinking away in errant contented sleepy thought a moment ago, are now sharp. He takes your hand.
If that is not enough his astonishment grows. He doesn't understand why someone would flirt with you when he is right there, holding your hand. And now you're starting to look uncomfortable. He fixes the stranger with a harsh glare.
And when that is ignored, he falls into the strong tone of a legendary Deepspace Hunter, who doesn't share his paramour with anyone. "We'll be leaving now." He pulls you away, grip tight on your hand not caring if he has come off as rude.
The two of you head off together, stopping at one of your favorite sweets shops as you do. Xavier is red in the face, and keeps glancing at you. He apologizes, saying "I could have handled that better." But his tenseness loosens when you kiss him, because at the end of the day you're going home together.
Despite his casualness, Rafayel notices the moment the first flirtatious comment leaves the stranger's mouth. It instantly becomes a competition, because Rafayel knows all of your favorite things. He's learned them happily over your time together.
So each attempt at flirting is met with his own more dramatic attempt. The stranger compliments your hair, so he wraps it around his fingers and brings it to his mouth with a wink. The stranger says you look pretty, so Rafayel exclaims you are the most beautiful muse he has and will ever have.
The two of you end up making a bit of a game of it, until eventually the stranger gives up and leaves. When he's gone Rafayel laughs, "Did he actually think he had a chance?"
You laugh, and happily kiss him. It doesn't matter that you're at a party. You're with your love, and Rafayel is happy, smiling wide, grinning too often and never leaving your side.
#l&ds#zayne love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#love and deepspace#lads#I want to watch Zayne hit someone
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Preoccupied
Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 4
Summary: A plan is hatching, sure. You and Lee can't stay focused. What are you two thinking about?
Warnings: ***Sex, drunk sex, drunk driving is bad but don't lose the plot here, riding
Notes: I'm changing the plot and timeline and shit so it's more fun to read and so I don't rip off other writers!
Read part one here. // Part two here. // Part three here. // Part five here.
Monday morning pries through the window like the hands of a thief as it snatches away your blissful sleep before your alarm. You sit up in your bed and extend into a long, pleasant stretch. You pull your blanket around you and a certain lingering scent of cologne takes over your senses. You close your eyes and relive Friday night.
"Do you wanna come back to my place?" You're unsure what possessed you to be so bold. Lee raises his eyebrows, a sly smile spread across his lips. The car ride is full of palpable tension, you nearly chew your lip clean off. The second you two drunken fools step out of the car, his lips are on yours. Desperate hands cling to any part of your body he can grasp.
Lee pins you to the car, and soft moans escape from both of you as you move your heads in sync. You trip and fumble over each other as you make your way to the door, nearly entirely without breaking the kiss. You finally get the lock unhatched and burst through the front entrance of your home. You both stumble inside and finally, your faces separate, only to catch your breath. Lee stares at you, carefully studying the features of your face as if he's not sure if this is real or not.
You lead him to your bedroom and lightly shove him so he sits on the bed. He watches you with a buzzed grin, amazed by you. You plant another long, hungry kiss on his lips before lowering to your knees in front of him.
"Oh... Oh!" He's excited by your initiative, watching as your delicate hands unfasten his belt and work to free his still-swelling erection.
You blink yourself out of the memory when you hear your alarm go off.
"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim aloud, shaken from your blissful reminiscing. After silencing the alarm, you get ready for the day. Lee Russell consumed your every thought all morning. Something about your inability to know how that night ended for him makes you nervous to see him today. All you know is he was gone by Saturday morning when you woke up. You're not sure how to feel.
You park your car and release a stressed sigh. There's no getting around it. If last night was a drunken mistake for Lee, that's just something you have to accept and move on from. Preferably fast. You step in the door and greet the other staff as you pass by. Just as you're about to round the desk and take your seat, the young teacher from the other day approaches you.
"Hey, Y/N," he chimes, more familiar than you recall giving him permission to be.
"Hello, Mr. Hayden," you speak with a tone meant to hint at your disapproval of his overly friendly manner.
"Some of the teachers were talking and they said you got drinks with Gamby and Russell," he laughs. "I'm so sorry, that must've been hell." He's not wrong, you recall Dr. Brown pissing on a cop car.
"I happened to run into them there, yes. I left before they did, though. Thank you for your... Apology?" You knit your brow and attempt to disengage from the conversation.
"Well," Bill steps in front of you again, demanding your attention. "I just wanted to let you know, me and the other teachers do payday drinks every Friday. You're welcome to come. It might be a little better... Conversation wise." Mr. Hayden laughs at his own quip and you stare straight faced.
"That won't be necessary, Hayden. Ms. Y/L/N is in good hands." Lee appears from nowhere, slipping a long, nimble arm around your shoulder as he stands next to you. "Let's all get back to work, shall we? Bell's about to ring." He sassily bobs his head, staring daggers into Bill Hayden. The teacher glances at you and then back to Lee before rolling his eyes and heading to his classroom. The bell rings just a moment after he rounds the corner.
"Lee Russell, to the rescue." You smile up at him as he frees you from his close-knit grasp.
"Good morning, darlin'. You sleep well?" He tilts his head playfully, subtly looking for the answer in your eyes.
"Like a baby," you laugh, nervous from the way he's looking at you. He's fighting tooth and nail inside to keep his behavior professional, only because apparently Super Intendant Haas plans to make a surprise visit after Dr. Brown "mysteriously" put in her resignation letter after meeting with her early this morning by the train tracks.
"Don't look at me with those big doe eyes, sweetheart. You know Haas can't see me with an underling. We'll both get fired."
"An underling? Harsh. You were the one under me," you joke, quietly, taking your seat behind your desk. You lean forward, keeping your eyes locked with his, pushing your breasts together as you pull your blouse down to tease him. Lee's eyes widen for just a moment as he glances down to your chest.
"Keep it in your pants, Y/L/N. I'll make it worth your while." He winks before disappearing into his office. Behind that door, Lee closes the wide sets of blinds, closing off visibility inside his small, glass-walled office. In the dim light, he leans back in his chair, a distressed hand readjusting his pants as his mind drifts off to memories of the weekend.
Your large, shining eyes glare up at him from where you kneel with one gentle hand wrapped around his shaft. Your hand sits perfectly still and yet his breathing is still shuddered, just seeing you touch him like this. His eyes roll back as you begin to work your hand up and down with a firm grip. You smile, proud of the reaction you're getting. You take it a step further and lick a firm stripe up his length from base to tip.
"Jesus Fucking Christ," he groans, reaching a hand down to wrap a fist in your hair. You position your pouting lips at the tip of his cock, leaving gentle kisses before allowing him into your mouth. You bob your head up and down, occasionally taking a new position to take him deeper and deeper into your throat. He's well endowed, and tears prickle at your eyes as you push yourself to your limit trying to please him.
He holds the fist of of your hair firmly, forcing you into a rhythm of his choice. When he pushes you too far, you moan in protest against his skin. The vibration is enough to send him over the edge right then.
"Shhh, shhh," he whispers. "Can't believe this dirty little fuckin' mouth of yours." He throws his head back, basking in the warmth of your mouth for a few seconds longer before roughly pulling you away from him altogether. "Get on the bed, sweetheart."
A hard knock at Lee's office door returns him to reality. He's quick to grant entry to whoever waits outside and in walks Super Intendant Haas.
Back at your desk, you're on the phone with an inquiring parent and Gamby zooms past you.
"Shut the fuck up, Y/L/N, I'm in a meeting!" he says, lightning fast, as he beelines for Lee's office door. The three men have their meeting and you can't help but glance back at the closed blinds every so often, wondering what they're talking about. It's obvious to you that Belinda is done for, her entire reputation lies in the volatile hands of Lee Russell. So what could be going on behind that door?
When the three men finally emerge, all is quiet. Neal and Lee usher Haas to the door and bid him a pleasant farewell. You wait patiently for either of them to speak up as they approach your desk, but they're just grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, Y/N. Looks like our efforts weren't in vain-" Lee starts, but Gamby excitedly cuts him off.
"You're looking at your new principals." He says proudly.
"Principals? Like with an 's'?" You clarify, having never heard of an arrangement like this before.
"We're co-interim, temporarily." Lee leans against your desk. His favorite pastime. "He's gonna send some guys to 'keep an eye on things' until they appoint a new principal that isn't that sorry cunt, Dr. Brown."
"So it seems you two need babysitters, huh?" You laugh, teasing them. Just then, the doors open and Haas re-enters.
"Mr. Russell, Mr. Gamby. I need a moment." He leads the two men to the main office, luckily for you, you can hear into that office. It's muffled, but since the blinds are open, you're able to read their lips to make up for what's too quiet to hear.
Haas sits at the principal's desk and exhales a breath of stress. Gamby and Russell quickly take their seats and listen.
"Dr. Brown's situation is... Upsetting." Haas drones on.
"Oh, no..." You whisper, seemingly catching on before the Vice Principals.
"Belinda Brown has taken a job as the neighboring district's high school principal." The news hit the two idiotic men like a ton of bricks.
At the end of their meeting, Lee and Neal usher Super Intendant Haas to the door. They wave him off with reassuring smiles that drop the second he's out of sight.
"We are so fucked, Gamby!" Lee wails.
"Shut up!" Neal barks. "I just need time to think!" Both men beeline for the office. You follow them inside the large Principal's office and close the door behind you.
"What's the big deal? She's not your boss anymore." You ask, perplexed by all the drama.
"She's going to make our lives at North Jackson a living hell! You saw the way she maneuvered that ball game! We're fucked!"
"Calm the fuck down, Russell. We just need to convince her to move cities." Gamby starts working out a plot. "Maybe we head up in her neighborhood at night, fire off a few rounds to keep the property values low." He uses his hand to mimic shooting into the air.
"Mr. Gamby... No..." You place a friendly hand on his, reeling him back from that preposterous idea.
"It's not like Russell's helping us!"
"I am trying, motherfucker!" Lee falls silent again for just a moment. "She's a mom. She isn't gonna want to stay somewhere that doesn't feel safe for her kids."
"Okay, let's shoot at her kids."
"Gamby!" You and Lee both scold him at the same time, shutting him down yet again.
"Let's stage a robbery," you say as a light bulb illuminates above your head. "Get into her house, rough it up a little, and get out. What kind of mother would keep her kids in a neighborhood like that?"
Your two bosses consider your plan, weighing their options. You watch the rays of the sun shift through the multiple windows, time seems to be slowing down in this moment of intense stress.
"That might work," Lee mumbles, already seeming to calm down, relieved by this idea.
"You want us to break into her home? That's against the law." Gamby looks at both of you, disappointed.
"So is shooting at her fucking kids, numbnuts." Lee slings a stray piece of paper at Neal and he swats it away.
"Fuck you, I'm not robbing anybody." The morally confused man stands firm.
"We don't have to take anything, we just have to barely rough the place up and convince her it's not safe to raise a family here. Don't be a baby," you taunt playfully, but as usual, he can't seem to take it that way.
"I'm not being a baby. You're a fuckin' baby. Don't fucking- everybody just shut the fuck up! We'll get in, get out, and never speak of it again, alright?" Gamby essentially relays the exact same plan back to you. You roll your eyes, agreeing just to shut him up.
A few days later, that Friday, North Jackson is to have a game against Belinda's new school, Percival. She's always made it a point to attend every game her school plays, but she will definitely be attending this one.
"Tonight's the night, Y/N," Lee takes his perch, leaned against your desk.
"Tonight is the night, Mr. Russell." You nod sarcastically and charismatically.
"You sure you want to get entangled in all this extremely sexy danger?" He straightens his tie. You laugh at his joke, but mostly you're just happy to see him. Happy to talk to him.
"It was my idea, Lee." You laugh, furrowing your brows.
"And what a good idea it is, darlin'." He disappears to follow behind Gamby, making whatever rounds they've dubbed as their new duty since becoming Principals.
Through no fault of your own, your mind begins to wander. You desperately crave a redo of your night with Lee...
You do as he says, climbing into the bed and waiting patiently for him to undress you. He starts with your shirt, slipping it from your body and tossing it to the side. Next, he makes quick work of your bra, all the while pressing his lips against yours. His soft hands trail softly up and down your body, igniting goosebumps across the planes of your flesh. You moan under his touch and he's amazed to have this effect on you.
He finally removes your skirt and panties before tossing his own shirt to the side. For payday drinks, he's dressed casually. His long sleeve t-shirt that he'd kept rolled up to his elbows had you weak in your knees the first time you saw him in something other than his work clothes.
His jeans barely make it down his legs before you're physically pulling him onto you. He's standing against the bed with you perfectly lined up at the edge. His cock twitches with anticipation as he stares down at you completely splayed open for him to take. His mind is completely blown.
"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Lee whispers, buzzed with alcohol and lust.
"I want you, Lee. I want you to fuck-" That was all he needed. He slowly slides into you without warning. He's careful, drawing out his stride as he sinks deeper and deeper inside you. Loud, song-like moans pour from your lips as he begins to form a rhythm pumping in and out.
"God, you're so fucking tight," he grunts as he thrusts, tossing his head back as waves of intense pleasure wash over him with each slap of his skin against yours. "Like a fuckin vice grip." You grasp hopelessly at the blankets on your bed, pulling yourself forward so Lee can slam into you harder.
"Oh, god!" You wail, all of your senses magnified by the drinking. The feeling of his fingertips gripping your thigh as he fucks you feels almost as orgasmic as the fucking itself.
"Shh, baby. I know," he whispers with a sly grin, picking up his pace. You release a loud, whining moan before sitting up and pushing him away. He withdraws from you and you pull him onto the bed. Once he's positioned, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist. You rise on your knees and reach a hand down to his throbbing erection to guide it to your needy pussy.
Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, pleasure shooting through you like lightning bolts. You adjust your knees and begin lifting yourself up and down on his shaft. You place two hands on the wall in front of you, above his head, and arch your back to skillfully lift your ass and fuck your aching cunt against him.
Lee hooks his hands where your thighs meet your waist and pulls you so you slam down on him even harder with each thrust. Vulgar sounds of pure pleasure spill from his lips as you ride him to his climax. His mouth hangs slightly open, brandishing his brilliant teeth. His dark brown eyes roll backward for just a moment before he locks his grip on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks up into you at a rapid pace.
"Lee!" You cry, quickly approaching the point of no return. He doesn't let up, and you can't hold back the loud, desperate moans and wails as he fucks you through your high. Just as you're coming down, he slams into you hard. His strides become less than steady and then finally, he thrusts inside you to his hilt and stops. You feel his cock twitch inside you, warmth fills your cunt and spills out down his shaft. You look at him with fear and urgency as his cum drips out of you.
"You don't gotta worry about that with me." He winks, allowing his head to fall back into the pillows, still rock hard inside you.
"Ms. Y/L/N? Are you okay?" Mr. Hayden tears you from your steamy memory and you realize your face is beet-red.
"I'm fine, actually. It's hot up here. Allergies are terrible. I will fucking kill you if you ask me about it again."
"What did you just say?" The man knits his brows.
"I said I didn't really hear you, could you ask me that again?"
"I don't think that's what you said at all..." He walks away slowly.
(There will be one ((or two)) more parts! Coming soon!)
•••
Taglist: @therest-stillunwritten // @its-in-the-woods // @justme12200 // @sixx-writes // @littlenosoul // @itsyellow // @blackwoodtree // @hiddlebatchedloki
#lee russel fanfiction#lee russell fan fiction#lee russell vice principals#lee russell#vice principals max#vice principals fanfiction#vice principals hbo max#vice principals#neal gamby#walton goggins#danny mcbride#lee russell x reader#lee russell x y/n#hellfirecvnt#lee russell smut#vice principals smut
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Pathetic Leon pt. 7
word count: 837
Figured i should include a word count bc this feels (and def is) longer than the other parts. also trying to make it somewhat neat?? an attempt, pls cut me some slack
Leon was pacing around his living room nervously while waiting for you to come back from class, his nails bitten down to skin at how hard he was stressing. What should he say? How could he put you down gently without hurting your feelings? How did he avoid telling you he felt the same? That one was stressing him out the most.
He froze in his place when he heard the lock disengaged, the door opening to present you, a happy look on your face as you carefully balanced two coffee cups in your hands. You looked up to see Leon there, a smile spreading on your face that made Leon want to forget about saying anything at all. “Hey,” you greeted, which he returned as calmly as he could. “I got coffee after class, figured I’d get you some too.”
“Thanks..” His heart aches as he takes the cup of coffee from your hand, staring down at it almost with a guilty expression. He looks back up at you as you go to settle down, gently grabbing your wrist to keep you in place. “I actually need to talk to you for a sec,” he calls out, gaining your attention instantly. “I uh… I heard your conversation last night..” he says outright, figuring the best way to get this over with was to rip the bandaid right off.
Your eyebrows raise. “Huh?” He drops his grip on your wrist, awkwardly taking a sip of his coffee as he tries to collect his thoughts. The coffee scalds his tongue. “The walls are thin..” He can’t stand looking at your face, the way you recoil from embarrassment and what is probably shame. “You weren’t very quiet so I.. overheard everything…”
You’re unable to meet his eyes after he speaks and clearly embarrassed, and he instantly wishes he could suck his words right back into his mouth. Not having your pretty eyes on him because of him makes him want to commit a crime against himself in retribution. He presses on, however, word vomiting in a mild bit of nervousness. “I'm flattered, really, I just.. As your father’s friend, I can’t indulge you in any way, y’know? He would have my head if he knew anything happened between you and me.”
You still don’t say anything or look at him and his mild nervousness turns almost into a panic. Did he just ruin his relationship with you? “Plus I’m way too old for you, sweetheart. You’re in college and you’re pretty, I’m sure there’s plenty of nice guys that would suit you better, yeah?” You only answer him with more silence and it all but drives him mad.
“Please say something,” He pleads, unable to stand the silence you give him. He would never be able to forgive himself if somehow he just crushed you.
“..I’ve known the walls are thin..” It’s the first thing you say after a while of silence, and it throws Leon for a loop. He looks at you with an obviously befuddled look as you finally turn to look at him again, your expression pinched. “It goes both ways, y’know.”
Leon stares at you, processing before your words seem to click.
If he could hear you, hear your friend who was over the phone, there was nothing stopping you from hearing him too. Like maybe when he was groaning and whimpering your name under his breath none too quietly as he desperately jerked off to the thought of you after seeing you in those shorts from the other day and after he heard your conversation.
The realization made his eyes widen, a look of pure horror over taking his face. You don’t have to say anything further for him to understand what you mean, and yet you still do. “I heard you, jerking off and saying my name. So you’re too old for me, but I’m not too young for you?”
The question makes him cringe, his entire demeanor deflating. How does he even respond to that? What can he say to salvage this? “Listen, I-- that--” You have him stumbling over his words trying to fix this. “I can’t-- You weren’t supposed to hear that. I meant what I said, I can’t indulge you. I am too old for you, and you are too young for me.”
You don’t seem all too pleased with that answer. Leon figures as much from the way you mumble ‘hypocrite’ under your breath, thinking he won’t catch it. “Okay,” you reply simply and curtly. Leon can barely press you on the answer before you’re already walking towards his guest room, shutting the door behind you firmer than he would deem normal.
He stares blankly where you were before, at a loss for words. Did that go well? Definitely not. Whatever high regards you held him in before that were definitely tarnished beyond belief. Leon can only stand there, his cup of coffee growing cold in his grasp as he regrets opening his mouth in the first place.
~~~
oooh, let's pretend it didn't take me like a week to write something this short oooh
if it makes it any better, I'm already writing part 8 :D
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#pathetic leon saga#leon s kennedy#leon resident evil
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"I think we underestimated the human population by eight or nine orders of magnitude."
The war room was reeling. The human population had been estimated in the mere hundred billion range. They should barely have had enough of an economy to field two light cruisers, least of all the goddamn armada that was ravaging the inner worlds. After the alpha strike, the human flotilla should’ve been completely crippled. Instead the number of ships they were fielding kept growing.
Tan-Hauser was the first target struck by a human attack, and they reported seventeen craft before they lost comms. Attican was hit just three days after that, but their reports already showed numbers above ninety. Any doubts that the fleet was growing were eliminated when Outpost Batan reported 1,217 FTL pings two days before the loss of Kira.
The number reported was so big it was written off as a sensor malfunction. Twenty-five billion souls lost, all because nobody in the war room could face reality.
They were going to face it now. The Kirarian in front of them was the primary sensor engineer for the Batan outpost, a specialist with more expertise in analyzing space lanes than warships. He’d been up for at least the last two days, poring over the sensor data, and only now was ready to begin to share his findings.
From the pain in his multifaceted eyes, it was clear he was still reeling from the loss of his homeworld.
Seeing that he had the room’s attention, he began to speak. The translation units each member of the war council had implanted experienced a moment of lag as they struggled to convert the almost musical tonal humming of the Kirarian tongue to more common galactic speech.
"The simplest data that can be analyzed from an FTL ping is the distance that the ship traveled before dropping to sublight. The contracted space in front of the craft traps small particles, even light itself for a short period, compressing its wavelength and then releasing it when the field disengages."
The war room nodded along. The explanation was mildly technical, but anyone that had traveled on an FTL shuttle before knew the hazards of exiting FTL directly in front of your home destination. Blasting your home station with a wave of alpha, beta, and ultraviolet rays was hardly a warm welcome.
The engineer continued.
“The… issue with this is that we’re used to the majority of the ping being in the UV spectrum. We aren’t entirely sure what the spectrum of the signals we got from the ships were because Batan station can only detect up into the low gamma range, but that’s still what the majority of the human’s FTL pings were detected in. That’s at least ten billion times the frequency that we’re used to. Since the frequency of the burst can be roughly modeled by multiplying the mean radiation per unit distance by the length of the path, that implies one of two things: That the human ships are either traveling through areas with ten billion times the standard background flux, or that they are traveling extragalactic distances.”
The engineer paused for a few seconds at that statement. The pain of loss still shone in his gemstone eyes, but something more immediate was beginning to take center stage: Fear.
“Because the craft is essentially throwing… well, normally it would be the next three or four days worth of cosmic background radiation at you. In our case it’s more like several decades. But because it’s just giving you an advance on your normal cosmic background radiation, you can track the void in the next several days' worth of background noise to determine the ship's approach vector. The 1,217 crafts that arrived weren’t coming from the same spot. There were actually hundreds of converging vectors, but more importantly…”
He trailed off, a small 3D model of the local space appearing in the center of the holo table. A spiked ball of vectors protruded from the galactic disk, each piercing cleanly through his former homeworld.
His voice cracked a little, the hum turning into a hiss. The translator tech paused a moment too, struggling to convey the subtle emotional cues into the message.
“They’re all coming off the galactic disk. That doesn’t just mean that we’re surrounded, that doesn’t just mean that we’re outnumbered… It means that each attack that we’ve seen up to this point is from an entirely separate group. What we’ve been mistaking for fleets, I believe, are simply the beginning trickles of their exploratory forces. Each of the sites that they’ve targeted hasn’t been of significant strategic importance; they’ve just been sites with unusually strong output signals. I think they’re just using our transmission stations as makeshift beacons for their FTL jumps." He took a deep breath to steady himself before providing his final thought. "I think we underestimated the size of the human population by eight or nine orders of magnitude.”
There was a heavy silence in the war room as that last sentence was processed. The engineer was already out the door before he heard the panic begin to set in.
Part of him felt a little guilty. It would’ve probably been kinder for them to go out not knowing what was about to hit them. Still, it wasn’t often you could force people with this much power to realize that they’d just lost everything.
There was a bitter satisfaction in that.
#hfy#humanity fuck yeah#humans are space orcs#science fiction#we are the swarm#scifi#writing#writblr#we are the cosmic horror#The goal was to imply that we have colonized hundreds of other galaxies#Babylon-HFY#Babylon-TopPick
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Sweet Treats
25 Days of Ficmas
Relationship: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader
Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick
Request: No
Warnings: Fluff
Word Count: 2,359
Main Masterlist: Here
Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist: Here
Summary: There’s a new favorite Floyd when the couple comes to the Dagger team potluck.
Consider Donating: Here
The second Bob stepped into his government housing, he was immediately taken aback. Not only had his wife apparently put up all the Christmas decorations without him; she was also baking like there was no tomorrow.
Sneaking his way into the kitchen, he was certain that she did not hear him walking through the front door. She had Christmas music playing through a speaker on the counter as she rolled and cut some sugar cookies. However, there were plenty of other sugar cookies, and different types of cookies even, already on their cooling racks. Even some pies were sitting out on the counter. How she found the time for all of this today, Bob would not understand.
Coming up on his wife, Floyd reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. Letting out a startled scream, she was quick to attempt to throw an elbow back behind her, only to stop when she heard her husband laughing. With a gasp, she turned in his hold and pulled him close.
“Oh, Bobby! You’re home. When did you get home? I thought you weren’t suppose to be home till Friday.” Her face was pressed into his neck where she could take a deep breath of his aftershave and cologne.
“We got released early. I wanted to surprise you, and it looks like you surprised me.” Looking around, Robert took in the sheer amount of sweets on their counters.
“Um, about this… I was gonna donate some to the shelter,” sheepishly she muttered.
“I don’t mind, sweetheart. I’m just a little surprised at the volume. How long have you been baking?” Shifting his gaze to his wife, he smiled when he saw the embarrassed flush overtaking her face.
“Since nine this morning…”
Chuckling, Bob pulled his wife closer still and pressed a kiss to her head. “Well, let’s pick what we wanna keep, and what we’re donating.”
As the night drew near, the Floyds had found themselves snuggled up on the couch. An apple pie had been split between them after a simple dinner, leaving the couple stuffed in the living room. “It’s A Wonderful Life” played on the screen in front of them. But both people were just happy to be sitting next to one another.
For the first time since Bob had been deployed, they both slept peacefully in their bed. Thankfully, the entire Dagger team had been granted leave for the next few days which was a welcomed reprieve. Waking up with his wife in his arms, Robert smiled at her peaceful expression. Her face smoothed out in sleep and reminded him of when they were young and newly in love. It reminded him of their wedding night when they got to sleep next to one another as husband and wife for the first time. It filled him with glee to see her sleeping next to him.
But the training that the military had instilled in him was not lost on days of leave. Bright and early, at five o’clock in the morning, he was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. Opening the fridge, he grabbed his cream, the oat milk and cold brew for his wife and set out to make something for breakfast. Scrubbing the sleep from his face after moving his glasses briefly, there was a ping on his phone called his attention. The Dagger group chat that they had was going off, it seemed. And for good reason.
Groaning, Robert face palmed as he read the texts coming in. He ended up being so involved in the texting that he failed to realize that there was another human in the room. That was until, he felt her wrap her arms around his body, and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Morning, Bobby,” she murmured into his back, voice still thick with sleep.
“G’morning.” Bob pressed a kiss to her hand as he brought it up from his chest.
“Whatcha got there?” Disengaging her hold, Mrs. Floyd began to make herself and her husband their coffees. Robert just exhaled through his nose as he read another message that dinged on his phone.
“The Daggers. We um… I totally forgot about this otherwise I would have mentioned it in our phone call last time and I understand if you don’t want t-”
“Robert,” she cut him off, placing a hand on his chest to feel his racing heart. “What is it? Just tell me.”
Scratching the back of his head, Bob rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. “The gang wanted to get together and do a Christmas potluck tomorrow since we were granted leave.”
“Okay. What’s the big deal that you’re making it?” She teased her husband, handing him his coffee.
“Well, if you come, it’ll be the first time that you have ever met them. Plus, I know it’s a bit last minute for making something to bring.” Taking a sip from his mug, Bob felt a fierce blush come over his face as he spoke. With her own cup in hand, she came to rest upon his chest, looking straight up at Robert.
“I’m fine meeting your workmates, Bobby. I haven’t even met Phoenix yet. I’ll just whip something simple up for tomorrow. If you want me to come?”
Smiling down at the gorgeous woman in his arms, he pulled her in closer and dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Of course I want you to come. If you’re good with it, we can do it.”
Sharing another kiss between them, the couple happily went about making their breakfast together. With Bob being on leave, he did not have to do much of anything that he did not want to do. He simply enjoyed letting his wife make some plans, like going to deliver all those treats to the homeless shelter downtown. It was a small thing for them, but they enjoyed seeing how the inhabitants lit up at the prospect of a cookie.
From that point on, it was a bit of a lazy day. Lounging around the house, watching movies, and running through ideas of what to make. She bounced around making different cakes, cookies, and other bite-sized treats. It would have to be something that most everyone should like, but without knowing who these people were, she had no clue what to make. And, it would need to be something that she could make relatively fast.
Eventually, she landed on spiced iced orange cookies. At the very least, she knew that Bob would eat them if no one else did. She use could not keep his hands off of them when she made them around Christmas. Which also meant that she had to double the recipe so that he could have his own batch to keep at home.
The following morning, she was up, just as bright and early as her husband, to begin working on the cookies. She had to send him out for more oranges at one point, but she would never tell him that was just to ensure that he did not eat the cookie dough while she ran to the bathroom. For the better part of the day, she had stayed cooped up in the kitchen, slaving over these cookies that she hoped everyone would like.
“Hey, honey,” came Bob’s voice from the threshold of the kitchen. “Do you wanna start getting ready? We gotta leave in about three hours.”
Looking around, she let out a sigh as she noticed that it was one o’clock in the afternoon now. Nodding, her hands wiped themselves on her apron before checking the cookies on the rack once more. She pressed a kiss to Bob’s cheek as she took her apron off, before leveling him with a look. “I know how many cookies there are in the to go container; thirty-six. You have your own to eat if you wanna have some before hand.”
Following her pointed finger to the cooling rack of additional cookies, Robert nodded happily. With a final glance towards her husband, she made her way to the bedroom and began to get ready. Her hair was curled, her makeup looked spectacular, and her dress was free from wrinkles. Touching up her red lipstick, she slipped on her heels before heading back out into the main part of the house where she found her husband snacking away on his own stash of cookies.
“Happy,” she asked, leaning against the threshold. Bob, with his cheeks stuffed like a little chipmunk, nodded eagerly.
“Okay, well,” she went to finish up her business in the kitchen, “we need to be going soon, right? Let me get these finished up so we can leave.”
After a few moments, the Floyds were ready to go. Bob wore his new button down shirt that he had been waiting to wear. All the way down to Rooster’s townhouse, he was nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Reaching her hand across to lay on his leg, she tried to calm her husband as much as she could.
But the nerves seemed to kick up when they parked in the lot nearby. Bob led her to the home that he had known once or twice before on shaking legs. However, when he went to knock on the door, he was stopped.
“We’ll be okay, Bobby.” Her words washed over him in a reassuring wave. Nodding, he cleared his throat, and stopped his bouncing long enough to knock steadily.
The door in front of the couple opened to a beautifully done up Phoenix, who just stood there for a moment. Her eyes wide, and mouth open.
“Uh… Bob?” Phoenix could not manage to say anything more than that. The glass of wine in her hand was starting to slip before the other woman swiped the glass before it could drop.
“Nix, um… this is my wife. Baby, this is my front-seater, Phoenix.”
Still numb with shock, Phoenix held out her hand, smiling when she received a shake from the new person.
“Well, I know I am glad to finally meet the elusive Mrs. Floyd. Come on, meet the gang. Are those cookies?” And with that, his wife was taken inside, leaving Bob to trail after them. But before they could get to where everyone was gathered in the living room, Phoenix gave her back.
“You may wanna do the honors.” Now with his wife back in his reach, Robert hesitantly walked into the room where his teammates awaited. Hearing Phoenix walk back, the team looked up to find exactly what had stunned her at the door.
“Everyone,” he started, “this is my wife.”
Silence. That was all anyone could do. Complete and utter silence. She started shifting on her feet as she felt everyone’s stares. But she had no idea on whether or not this was a good thing.
“Well I’ll be damned,” some tall blonde man finally spoke after a while. His beer was set on the coffee table in front of him, walking over to the couple in favor of drinking.
“I’m Jake, or Hangman. Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Floyd.” The man in question held out his hand for her to shake, leaving her pleasantly surprised and the rest of the people shocked. Noticing this, he looked around, specifically lingering on the husband.
“What?”
“Nothing, just…” Bob tried to find the way to say what he wanted to say nicely. “You’re being not how I thought you would.”
Giggling, she allowed her husband to take her around the room to introduce her to everyone. With each new person she met, she found herself, and Robert, growing more and more comfortable with the whole ordeal. Rooster had shown them where to set their box of cookies on the kitchen counter, before declaring that dinner was ready. So many dishes from everyone were put out buffet style, which allowed them to take whatever it was that they liked.
Back in the living room, there was a full interrogation happening of Robert. His front-seater, his best friend in the entire world felt a little betrayed, but understood why he kept his wife under wraps. However, Hangman and Fanboy were less eager to give it up. They kept slinging questions left and right at the couple; everything ranging from how they met to when they got married, and everything in between.
The only reprieve they got was Bradley suddenly walking back into the room, mouth chewing and a determined look in his eyes.
“Who made these?” He demanded, bringing the room to a screeching halt.
“Whatcha talking about man?” Payback retired behind a swig of his beer.
“These iced, orange spicy-ish cookies. Who brought these,” Bradley asked yet again.
With a nervous glance, Mrs. Floyd raised her hand towards the air. “I did. Is there something wrong with them?”
“You did this?” Rooster was now starting to freak her out with that crazed look in his eyes. And Bob was getting ready to defend his wife. “I’m in love with these. If I could marry them I would. I will pay you to make more.”
A shocked look came across her face, as it did her husband’s. Chuckles forced themselves from their throats as they beheld the man.
“Oh, um,” she began, “I’m glad you like them. Uh, sure. I can make more.”
That sparked a fever into the rest of the group who immediately stood up to try the cookies, leaving the couple sitting on the couch. Obscene sounds were being produced paired with innocent comments.
“These are so good!”
“I can die happy.”
“Is this what love tastes like?”
“What took you so long to introduce her to us, Bob?” Jake asked, stuffing another cookie into his mouth.
“Have you guys met yourselves?” His ridiculous tone was not lost on them. However it was tempered with his wife bringing him another Sprite Zero, and a few of the cookies that were left.
“Careful, we might just have a new favorite Floyd,” came a tease from Phoenix, smirking over the rim of her glass.
“I might be able to give up that title.” Robert smiled, looking at his wife.
#rebelliousstories#writing#25 days of ficmas 2024#25 days of christmas 2024#25 days of ficmas#25 days of christmas#christmas imagine#christmas#top gun maverick imagine#top gun imagine#top gun maverick#top gun#robert bob floyd imagine#robert floyd imagine#robert bob floyd#robert floyd#bob floyd x oc#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd
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Honestly I don’t understand the hate behind “toxic” ships in fiction, I personally couldn’t care less what people ship as long as it’s entirely fictional and they aren’t condoning the actions of the characters. Sure I’ll still block someone if their ships make me uncomfortable, but I have a “ship and let ship” type of view on these things.
Exactly. I'm just SO tired and so done with this shit. The Cookie Run fandom has always been shit to some degree, since CROB first came out, but CRK brought in whole legions of people who haven't seen grass in years and it's just sad at this point lol. So long as they're both adults (ZERO tolerance for adult/minor ships at all times, fuck that shit), why does it matter? It's fiction. No one is being harmed. Explore whatever concept or dynamic you wish. Wholesome, toxic, everything in between. Just remember to maintain a healthy level of detachment from it all; don't get mad if people don't ship the same ships you do, don't get wrapped up in discourse or arguing or anything. Doesn't do anyone any good, including you and me.
There are plenty of ships I don't like (in general, even outside of Cookie Run). I am anti-FireWind and always will be. ShadowSpice makes less than zero sense to me, like wtf are you people on about lol. Hollytaya gives me rabies and I hate remembering it exists (God I hate Hollytaya so fucking much it is absolutely unreal lmao). Guess what? I block the ship tags and go about my business. I don't go out of my way to look for ship art or fics, nor do I bother people who ship any of those (or any other ships I don't like). I have friends and acquaintances that ship these three that I've listed, and I don't think any less of them for it. It's all good in the neighborhood. All shipping is at the end of the day is playing dollhouse. Getting mad at people for playing with the dolls in the "wrong" way is dumb and pathetic lol. Live and let live. Hate the ship, not the shipper.
Just don't call me names. Don't accuse me of terrible things because I like hero/villain ships, the enemies to lovers trope, and/or exploring darker topics or relationships in writing. It's FICTION. No fucking shit that stuff is wrong and I don't condone it irl, the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of person do you take me (or anyone else like me) for? I get so goddamn irritated with the shit I see getting hurled at Beast x Ancient shippers regularly, especially on Twitter. People get harassed, people get outright doxed and threatened. All that over fictional talking cookies? You're the ones who need help, not us lol. You don't have to like BurningCheese, you don't have to like Beasts x Ancients, you don't have to like Heroes x Villains at all. That is perfectly understandable, that trope is not for everyone. But don't do that shit. Don't call us misogynists, or abusers, or anything else like that. Those are serious and damning accusations. You've got a lot of nerve saying that to people you don't even fucking know, especially from behind the comfort and safety of a computer screen. Frankly, you cheapen what those horrible things really mean by hurling them at random strangers so carelessly. You think words in a document or lines on a screen compares to real-world violence against innocent people? You think because I toy with the concept of some little buff spicy cookie dude having an evil crush on a little winged cookie lady, I want real people to be harmed? Fuck you for that. I am VERY familiar with the horrors of violent crime, BELIEVE ME WHEN I FUCKING SAY THAT. I hate bad people as much as the next guy, probably more so, because again, I AND MANY I KNOW PERSONALLY HAVE SEEN SHIT IRL, SO DON'T FUCKING COME AND TELL ME I ENDORSE REAL CRIMES WHEN I AM THE LAST PERSON ON EARTH WHO WOULD. Fiction allows us to bask in the light or be engulfed by shadows as much as we wish, while being able to safely disengage and return to real life without any pain or discomfort being inflicted on ourselves or others afterwards. All of this morality and media-enjoyment policing is just the newest incarnation of the fundies that tried to paint Pokemon as satanic, or those pearl-clutching dipshits on the news and in government that insisted that people would become carjacking homicidal maniacs because they play Grand Theft Auto. It's fucking stupid and a waste of time.
I'll say it one more time: YOU. DO. NOT. HAVE. TO. SHIP. BURNINGCHEESE. OR. ANY. OTHER. BEAST X ANCIENT PAIRS. You are entitled to your thoughts and feelings and ships. Block the tags and move along. Block users if you have to. Better yet, turn off your computer and go spend time with real people. There's more to life than Twitter or Tumblr or these wack ass games about cookies, I promise. None of this matters, man. I have a Bill Cipher plushie as my avatar. I post silly dumb memes half the time, and then just ramble nonsensically about Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady the other half. This shit is stupid. We're all stupid for liking these games in the first place. They suck. We all suck. Write what you want, draw what you want, mind your own damn business and I'll mind mine
#/end rant lol#I'm sorry. I've just had it with this shit.#Thankfully I've only gotten trouble from one single person before. But I know plenty of others have gotten more and worse#Why waste that time and energy? What do you hope to accomplish by bullying randoms on the internet?#if you think harassing people over shipping does anything to solve real-world issues then I have a bridge to sell you#also reject Hollytaya embrace PitayaFire and HollyCacao#kidding lol. Ship what you want. No skin off my nose#cookie run kingdom#burningcheese#goldenspice#mysticcacao#pureshadow#shadowvanilla#silentlily#hollysugar#beast cookies#ancient cookies#idk if I tag those other ships I mentioned. I don't think anyone else needs to be inflicted with my ranting lmao
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hi, other half, I've came to beg you to write some smutty thing for me. You once posted sth about riding Aegon's belly and yOU BITCH, I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE THEN. So I'm begging you, queen of chubby!aegon, to write something about getting off on Aegon's fat belly (and u know the details, i know u do bc we share the same mind).
i love u, please and thank u🤍🥺
I LOVE YOU! and whoopsie, I can't help it if my thotty thots overtake your mind <3 lord have mercy, I really took my time with this one boo, like I actually lost myself AHAHA you know what they say, great minds think alike :))) hope you enjoy lovely x
Satisfied, Yet?
PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader.
WORDS: 2,464.
WARNINGS: NSFW, slight mention of fatphobic comment, thigh/stomach riding, p in v sex, swearing.
Since being anointed as King, Aegon's life had altered drastically. Most of these changes not only seeped into his political stance in the realm, or in his dutiful role of upholding social responsibilities, although in his physicality, too. Since, having been betrothed to Aegon from his long, before days as Prince till now, you'd been front row and center to all these unfolding changes...
Nonetheless, at the very least you were quite absorbed in all the theatrics, particularly relishing in your husband's growing figure.
Aegon had always been an envoy to gluttony since his youth, his habits had only recently begun to swell from a boy's meager appetite into a man's. Since his coronation, Aegon, with you loyally by his side, had been invited and exposed to plentiful feasts, tourneys, banquets and celebrations in honor of his succession, with copious amounts of succulent roasts, pastries, sweets, treats and wine, that could fulfillingly feed the entire realm thrice. It was inevitable that such a habit of glutton would overtake…
Although you modestly dined in moderation, Aegon often found himself feasting, ravishing through the delectable flavours each region of the realm had to offer to their newly appointed King, eagerly hoping to appease his Grace. As time went on, you found that his table manners had become wilted, as he’d often lost focus, disengaging in conversations, too enraptured by gorging himself on the delicacies offered to him by his meek subjects. You’d even occasionally witness him satisfyingly licking the tasteful grease off of his now thick, pudgy fingers, savoring the sacred moment, as his other free hand massaged his full, distended belly.
In doing so, and unknowing to Aegon’s own naked eye, his appetite grew just as rapid as his waistline. His grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, often eyed the King with disgust although, so long as Aegon showed up to such meaningful events, he did not protest. Nor did the Dowager Queen, Alicent, for she grew weary and apprehensive to provoke Aegon, now that he was King. Thus, no one dared to fuss.
If you were being frank with yourself, you intently observed Aegon’s newly found habits, not in a parallel way to his grandsire, although with lust. Aegon’s appetite was what you’d believed, fit for a King. The repercussions of this, you reaped bashfully, as you gradually watched your beloved husband's figure swell. He maintained muscle, through occasional combat training and flights with Sunfyre, although now a visible layer of fat had grown all over, padding the muscle beneath. His legs, once modestly average sized, had now grown to be as thick as tree trunks, along with his bulky biceps and forearms to match. Although the centerpiece of attraction was his abdominal region, now protruding over his hidden waistline, the soft flesh hung, resting over his stocky thighs whenever you found him lounging.
Gods be good, was it a mission to remain incessantly composed for hours when you were present to spoil your longing eyes upon your dear husband sprawled comfortably upon the Iron Throne… He’d grown into the seat, the fat of his thighs digging into the edge, subtly hanging over its edge, as he just managed to fit in. The image was stupendously ingrained into your brain, and the only thoughts that you could muster were sinful.
Nonetheless, Aegon remained oblivious to the venereal effect his appearance was having on you…
****
“Fuck-” Aegon frusturatingly huffed.
“What is it, my love?” You concerningly question. Slowly closing the pages of your novel that rested against your lap, as you turned to face your husband, you had been greeted with an exasperated Aegon, his plump cheeks reddened from all the bustling noises you’d mindlessly heard in the background whilst reading.
“It seems I am in need of a new fitting. I have been struggling to button these trousers on, dearest, not to mention how uncomfortably tight they now feel,” Aegon sulkingly protested. You carefully watched on, as you witnessed Aegon curiously pondering over his reflection in the mirror of your shared compartment. The pantaloons he’d been whining about, he’d just managed to dress, although remained loose and unsecured where it should have been buttoned and fitted. Instead, his portly belly hung low, his flesh engulfing over the opening and seams of the pants.
“Be honest before the Gods dearest, have I grown?” Aegon uttered, as he turned to face you sharply, his hands gliding over his swollen belly, as the one squeezed the mold of fat over where his ribs lay protected beneath.
“I-uh, I do not know what you mean, dearest. Y-You look fine,” You meekly respond, unable to maintain direct eye contact, once Aegon was done sizing himself down, returning his gaze unto you. A stern look had brewed across his face, as you lowered your head to the book on your lap, fiddling with its torn edges.
“Do not toy with me, Y/N. Be honest, at the very least, I command that you speak the truth before your King. Have I grown…fat?” A distaste apparent in his stern voice, Aegon looked upon you with fretful eyes.
Your reluctant gaze had softened with adoration. You did not wish for Aegon to feel even the slightest tinge of shame for his change, nor did you want him to think it possible, that you were revolted by the very sight of your husband.
“Y-You may have grown somewhat in size, but Aeg, that does not mean I love you any less. No lesser, than the day my maiden eyes had laid upon you.”
Although you spoke warmly of the truth, Aegon refused to believe. Disapprovingly shaking his head in protest, he tore his attention away from you, avoiding eye contact as his glistening, lilac eyes had now wandered to the ground beneath his feet. His hands nervously gliding up and down the sides of his thick thighs, as he slowly seated himself down over the edge of the bed, an audible creak of the wooden frame fracturing the silence.
“People must look upon us, and feel pity unto you, my wife. For look at the ‘hog’ she has now binded herself to-”
“Aegon, please-” You firmly interjected, racing over towards your husband, as you gracefully knelt before him, your hands now appearing tiny, sprawled against his large thighs, gripping the flesh for stability.
“Aeg, look at me-” Your hand reached over, tugging at his fatty chin to redirect his attention solely onto you.
“They-” Your fleeting eyes darting towards the shut door and back towards him, indicating to the world beyond.
“-should not matter. I would never say such vile things, nor could I ever think of you like that.”
Aegon remained chillingly quiet, although you’d faintly glimpsed a sudden glint in his eyes, as his fixed attention lingered over your soft lips.
“Prove it.”
His sudden words took a solid few seconds to register in your mind, before you’d fathomed its meaning. Prove so, how?
You knew exactly what was required of you. Your readiness for this moment had been stirring amid the quiet moments against the bustle and haste, of the banquets and festivities you’d both attended, that you often found yourself reservedly pondering in your own lustful thoughts, envisioning many things…
“Sit properly on the bed,” You boldly uttered, as you stood yourself up, pushing yourself up from Aegon’s knees, leaning yourself ever so slightly forward that the evident cleavage in your tightly fitted gown were brazenly displayed to Aegon, as you stood swiftly. It made you innocently chuckle seeing Aegon smacking his juicy lips in response, as he strugglingly shuffled himself atop the bed, right towards the center of the wooden headboard. His large, rough hands steadily rubbed against the tight fabric of his thighs in anticipation for what was to come, as he intently observed you from afar.
Both your undivided attention remained mutually onto each other: a faint, tender smile appearing on your face, as you noticed the hunger in Aegon’s eyes [mildly similar to how he gushed over the plated feasts], a smirk beaming across his face.
Slowly walking over towards him, you’d managed to hike the front of your dress up sensually, before crawling atop the bed, only to find yourself straddling your beloved husband. Your legs had been stretched out broadly, accommodating for his wider frame, as his stomach pushed against the sensitive region of your lower abdomen and entrance. Gods, did his thighs feel so tender and soft beneath your ass, as you comfortably lowered yourself down, readjusting your position. Your arms instinctively stretch over towards his neck line, as your fingers begin to tangle and pull on the platinum, short strands from behind.
It seemed the warm, tense friction of your body against Aegon’s was already beginning to stir the new King, pleasantly.
Closing in the distance between your faces, as your moist lips teasingly hovered over his plump ones.
“You want me to prove it, baby… So be it,” You softly whispered, the warmth of your breath Aegon had inhaled, unable to remain patient, the young King pushed his mouth against yours, his tongue shoving its way through in exchange for a long, passionate kiss. Somehow, his pudgy hands had managed to find their way towards your backside, roughly squeezing the flesh of each cheek, you were certain his fingerprints would remain evident.
Almost in tune to a rhythm, you began to pace yourself in a loop, slowly rocking forwards and back against the thin fabric of Aegon’s strained pants, your body shoving in deeper towards his distended belly, before leaning back to give him some momentary relief.
“Mhmm,” Aegon lowly moaned, as one hand remained glued to your tender ass cheek, whilst the other snaked its way firmly behind your back, his rough hand gripping your neck, his thick fingers entangled in your hair, as he massaged the base of your head.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, seeing you become this-” You breathlessly whimpered, as you tore apart your lips from his to speak.
Aegon sensed the sincerity in your tone, and the soft, pleasing look in your eyes, as you ached for him. You could’ve sworn he could physically feel the throbbing sensation pulsating from your moist cunt, against the soft flesh of his full gut.
“And what is it that I have done? What is it that you wish to do to me, my sweet, sweet angel?”
Your pace had subtly quicked, briefly feeling Aegon trying to align your cunt to his cock, he undoubtedly was not expecting your next move.
Insisting Aegon to recline himself further back into a semi-fowler position, the plentiful, fluffed cushions supporting his heavy mass in conjunction to the solid headboard hidden beneath. You swiftly shuffled yourself further up his body, thrusting yourself forward with enough momentum that you now sat atop, straddling his doughy, bloated stomach beneath. Your hands now gripping dearly onto his broad, dense shoulders, nails digging into the cloth-like fabric of his white shirt, as you further continued to thrust against him, riding his flesh beneath deeply and vigorously.
“Fuck, Y/N-” He growled, as his grip remained strained onto your hips, as they rhythmically bucked forwards and back, desperately riding in deeper into his mass.
“See-uh-See, what you’ve done to me, this, all of this-” You squeeze a little more into the flesh of his skin, pulling at the fat that embodied your husband, signifying his tremendous growth. Your moistened cunt began to coat his pale, soft skin stripped with reddened marks and stripes all along his sides and below, with your sweetness, as his shirt hiked up against your movements.
“L-Look, my King, look at exactly what you’ve done to m-me-” You bashfully utter, as your spine instinctively arches, the collision and smacking of your skin against his continued to be heard in such close proximity, only muffled by either of your mindless moans and grunts. Nestled between your lower cunt and backside, you could feel something poking through, Aegon’s thick cock beginning to swell, feeling its pulsating urge beneath the strained fabric, the incessant need to shove itself inside of you grew with each movement.
“Hmmf-” Aegon’s heavy, volatile breathing grew rapidly: as he ate himself to swell, his efforts became strained, often catching him huffing and puffing after hiking up a dense flight of stairs.
“Come on, Aegon- I-I’m so close already-” You stutteringly whimper, sensual moans mindlessly interrupting your words. Now your wetness began to lubricate his succulent, fleshy skin entirely, as your cum pooled beneath, making your movements easier, gliding over his portly stomach. Where his lean pecs had once been, now a thick layer of adipose mounted over: one hand remained gripped to his shoulder, desperate for the stable support, whilst the other firmly cupped and squeezed at his enlarged, swollen pec. The roughness of your touch against the sensitive site, scored a loud plea for your name from his lips, that momentarily left your lifted breasts, before resuming to suckle on your soft skin.
“Prove me wrong, baby. Prove me so fucking wrong-” Aegon groaned and moaned desperately, his grip remained firm as he tried desperately to shove you down deeper into his body.
Instantly, you felt your pulsating cunt drench his swollen, soft belly as you pleasantly cried out, moaning Aegon’s name like a banshee in the night. His cock beneath you twitched in response, some moistness had brewed and seeped beneath its place, for it seemed Aegon was just as close to pumping, making a mess of himself. Although, as surprisingly swift as he could be for his size, Aegon thoroughly knew his way around your body, despite the changes to his own. His pants already undone from before, he could easily lift you up momentarily, pulling it down further enough for his bare cock to protrude through, aggressively shoving himself into you as you now remained atop. His thick cum coating your inner walls, as his veiny, fat cock grazed over your sweet spot, whilst your walls clenched on his thick cock.
“Fuck, baby-” He subtly mouthed, as he prompted himself further up, although his belly innately blocking his way, as he tried to lean over towards your own feeble body. The pace of your breathing now in sync with his, as your heated bodies lunged over towards one another for support, he held your weak self in his bulky arms, Aegon’s dense cock still remained inside of you, its strong pulse echoing from within your walls.
“Satisfied, yet?” You helplessly pant, as you reluctantly pull yourself out of Aegon, repositioning yourself laying, nestled by his side.
“I guess I should hold back on training for a little while longer, I wouldn't want to lose this figure, if that’s what I’ll be expecting, dear wife.”
#aegon ii targaryen#tom glynn carney#TGC#chubby!Aegon ii#aegon ii targaryen imagines#aegon ii targaryen imagine#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon ii targaryan fanfiction#aegon ii targaryen smut#aegon ii targaryen fluff#aegon ii targaryen angst#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x fem!reader#chubby!Aegon ii targaryen#chubby Aegon ii#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#hotd imagines
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𐂂 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿⋆⁺₊⋆ ᡣ𐭩
E L A I N W E E K
G U I D E L I N E S
While the point of Elain Week is to appreciate her character, the moderator team also acknowledges that certain character aspects can shine more in specific dynamics. Thus, all ships for Elain will be accepted and tagged accordingly. Every interpretation of Elain deserves to be appreciated and shared!
This event is staunchly against hate. We know that Elain’s ship potential is a very controversial subject with a lot of strong feelings involved. We intend to accept and welcome all interpretations of Elain, as appreciation does not look the same for each person. However, we will not accept or repost anti-ship content. Our focus is creativity, exploration, inclusion, and positivity. We feel that avoiding anti-ship content will make the event as inclusive as possible and create a welcoming environment for everyone!
This event will not tolerate rudeness, negativity, inciting ship wars, or baiting in the comments on submissions. Any negative or cruel comments will be removed, and the poster will receive a one-time warning. If the participant submits another post that undermines our guidelines a second time, they will be blocked by the event and thus no longer able to participate. There is love and effort put into the content being submitted, and we ask everyone to remember this before commenting.
To further support human artists and creators, we will not be accepting or reposting submissions utilizing AI. Our team will work hard to spot and disengage with AI, but there is a chance that we may not catch them all—please be sure to reach out to us if you suspect that we have shared content using AI. Submissions can range anywhere from fanarts to mood boards and playlists, but please only submit new Elain Archeron content that was created specifically for the event!
When posting your content on Tumblr, please be sure to use the event tag #elainweek2025 and tag our account @elainweekofficial so that we are able to see your submission and share to our page! If you do not want your submission shared across our social medias, please indicate that either through messages, or on the submission.
For the folks wanting to share their submissions on Instagram, please be sure to use our event tag #elainweek2025 and to tag our account @/elainweek when posting! We are also interested in collaborating with all submissions, so feel free to invite us! If you do not want your submission shared across our social medias, please indicate that either through messages, or on the submission.
For the folks we want to submit any written content, we have an ElainWeek2025 AO3 Collection that you can find (HERE).
Our team will be sure to promptly sort each day’s submissions using both our event tag and a specialized tag per day [#DAYX : PROMPT], sort by content type (i.e., fanart, playlist, etc), and upload a masterlist for each day that we will post the following morning. We will also have a comprehensive masterlist for the entire event at the closing!
If there are any additional questions, comments, or concerns, please be sure to reach out to our team either through the ask box, or through our messages on Instagram! We are eagerly counting down the days until Elain Week 2025 💕
#elain week#elain archeron#pro elain archeron#pro elain#acotar#acotar events#sarah j maas#elainweek2025#elain week 2025
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To All the Fandoms I've Loved Before
Throughout my life, I've regularly participated in fandom—from enjoying art and AMVs/edits to writing fanfiction for Naruto, Supernatural, One Piece, and more. So, it's safe to say that I have a lot of experience watching the highs and lows of different fandoms.
And, trust me, I know the sting of finishing a series and learning that a ship I've loved for years hasn't been made canon. The frustration when a character I love dies. How a story deviated from what I hoped. It sucks! However, I also remember the hysteria too. Happening again and again. The malicious attacks and inappropriate conduct. Over and over.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, here are some examples:
SasuSaku blogs were flooded with threatening messages after Sasuke and Sakura were confirmed to be a couple
Kikyo stans were harassed out of forums, YT comment sections, etc., simply because they might've preferred her character over Kagome's
Genevieve Padalecki and Danneel Ackles endured a barrage of online attacks, bullying, and threats because they married Jared Padalecki (Sam Winchester) and Jensen Ackles (Dean Winchester)
Amanda Abbington, Martin Freeman's ex-wife, faced similar attacks after she was cast as Mary Morstan in BBC's Sherlock—simply because some fans believed she was "getting in the way" of Johnlock
Prior to the Vox Machina animated series, when the campaign was still streaming, many people within the Criticial Role fandom villified Marisha Ray for her relationship with Matthew Mercer, wherein she became the victim of excessive online harassment and bullying
Laura Bailey portrayed Abby Anderson in the Last of Us II, a character who is highly controversial amongst fans. As such, Laura was subjected to mass online harassment and death threats. It was so bad, ign reported that HBO has increased security around Abby's live-action actress, Kaitlyn Dever.
Some Klance and Allurance stans routinely trolled and harassed each other—inciting such extreme inter-fandom conflict online that their "war" spilled into non-ship related content, discouraging others from interacting with the Voltron fandom entirely
Matt Smith faced unfair online criticism at the time of his casting, simply because he was the follow-up act to David Tennant's iconic Tenth Doctor—only for Matt Smith's iteration to be one of the most beloved incarnations ever
The frequent and ongoing racism POC cosplayers face every fucking day—slurs, threats, and more
The Cassandra Clare fandom came for the throats of anyone who had fair and justified criticism of both CC and her work—particularly around copyright infringement
The same thing can be said about the Sarah J. Maas fandom
2010s Tumblr blogs falsely accused John Green of pedophilia because he wrote contemporary romance YA—harassing him for months on Tumblr, and practically driving him off the platform
Marvel fans spread rumors about Brie Larson, accusing her of being an "arrogant racist" because they didn't like her or the MCU's depiction of Carol Danvers
Legend of Korra stans are still targets of misogynistic and racist rhetoric online—both here on Tumblr and on TikTok
The Durarara!! discourse of the 2010s was so fucked up, so vile, people disengaged from the series and the fandom entirely. This affected sales and the second season, which never really gained the traction it deserved because of how insufferable and toxic Durarara!! fans proved to be during the original run of the first season—I mean, people were harassing cosplayers at events! That's how bad it was
I could go on—and on, and on, until this post is nothing but a harrowing list of how people can't seem to behave themselves.
And, these behaviours need to fucking stop.
So, to reiterate what I've said on another post, but targeted towards a wider audience:
Your feelings of disappointment do not give you the right to harass others online
Your feelings of frustration do not give you the right to harass and bully actors, creators, and writers ever—online or otherwise
Your ugly biases will never justify viciously attacking women, POC, queer people, disabled people, and fat people in fandom spaces
You're entitled to feel your feelings and have your opinions. You're allowed to express your disappointment online and within your own community. But don't go around attacking others because of said feelings—this concept really isn't that hard to grasp. And in the same vein, don't incite conflict with fans who are disappointed to gloat about your "victories." Neither of these actions are productive and simply contribute to the growing toxicity in fandom spaces.
The only exception to this, of course, is if you're racist, ableist, fatphobic, homophobic, transphobic, etc. Cause if you're any of those things, you're disgusting and block me right the fuck now. This blog is NOT a safe space for you.
Sincerely,
A jaded fan, sick of the toxicity
#fandom#naruto#naruto Shippuden#supernatural#bbc sherlock#doctor who#superwholock#durarara#the legend of korra#the last airbender#vox machina#critical role#matthew mercer#marisha ray#laura bailey#the last of us#the last of us ii#kaitlyn dever#voltron#voltron legendary defender#cassandra clare#sarah j maas#Matt smith#david tennant#john green#mcu#inuyasha#kikyo#bnha#bnha leaks
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Your blog is like a breath of fresh air. Thank you for all the wonderful thoughts and writing.
That said I actually have a question. I am pro-palestine(it feels stupid to call it that, as if it should even be a debate) and in a very left leaning friend group. But also a very white academic one. You know the type, read Marx, dream of the revolution but continue studying to end up in 9 to 5s instead of doing anything(I am guilty of it too, this isn't meant as insult just a description)
Anyways, as you can imagine they have been extremely hesitant when it comes to having any opinion on Israel or Palestine. That wouldn't be a problem in itself, I know how to start topics with them and get them thinking usually but in this case there is an additional problem. Whenever I try to broach the topic I get shutdown with "Look at all the shit that is going on here, our country is falling into fascism, I just don't have the energy to deal with this conflict. Please don't talk about it because it's triggering". And I have zero clue what to do. Forget getting them to go on protests with me, I can't even speak to them about it and feel really guilty. Its me bringing up a heavily triggering topic after all. It feels wrong to feel guilty though. I know at the end of the day it's not important if I could convince some people to give a fuck but do you have any advice? How to get over this guilt or maybe how to broach a topic with that considered?
My main problem is my fear of losing my friends because I have been ill for some time(as in physically unable to leave the house for more than a short grocery run, or my visits to the doctor, because of pain and my friends are what keep me alive) and losing their help would be not good.
My exact situation aside, do you have advice for someone to broach a topic that others describe as unpleasant/triggering without causing a huge rift in the group?
Thanks for your kind words and your question, Anon.
I think your friends suck and that you can do better than them. I think you should get out there and find yourself some Black, brown, working class anarchist and anarco-communist buds (and Marxists who show up for others in a real, observable way in their regular lives) as soon as you can.
I know that wasn't the answer you were looking for. But I have seen this kind of entirely theoretical, jaded, self-superior, passive, white well-off Marxist type a thousand times before, and I've failed to ever see them show up for other people in any kind of consistent way.
And it's not only the people systematically crushed beneath the wheel of Capital half a world away that they neglect, either. They tend to be pretty shitty friends and neighbors when it all comes down to it on the micro-level, too. Their smug over-intellectualism and dispassionate cynicism allows them to justify remaining disengaged and going along with the status quo in a way that ultimately serves capitalism very well.
There is a theoretical basis to this selfishness and disengagement, I will admit. This type of overly academic Marxist typically believes that the fall of capitalism is inevitable, that humans lack free will and only behave as befits their obvious material interests, and that there is nothing that one can do on a personal level to hasten any kind of Revolution, so there is nothing left to do but wait, and take care of oneself, and allow the future to unfold.
This is a perspective explicitly advocated for by people like the Chapo Trap House guys, and among academic white boy communist types, it is incredibly popular. I remember hearing Matt Christman saying on his vlogs that he essentially does not believe the conditions allowing capitalism to fall will happen in his lifetime, and so his only responsibility is to just take care of himself and his family and be comfortable.
Ultimately, these types wind up sounding and behaving exactly like capitalist economists who believe that everyone is rationally motivated only by increasing their personal wealth. They are disengaged from politics except insofar as they like to make snide jokes about current events for their own entertainment and enrichment, and they don't see themselves as having the capacity to exert a positive influence on the world, nor any obligation to. It's bleak shit.
At the same time, if your friends are in the circles that tend to read and listen to and promote this kind of stuff, surely they have also been exposed to popular leftist voices advocating loudly for the Palestinian cause. And yet still they have done nothing.
Hasan Piker has been vocally pro-Palestine his entire career, and his Twitch channel has been providing near constant coverage of Palestinian issues since October 7th. True Anon has had multiple episodes on the Israel Lobby, the suppression of pro-Palestinian activism and journalistic coverage, and has aired interviews with Normal Finkelstein. Palestine is the central topic of nearly every Trillbilly Worker's Party podcast for months now.
These are widely popular voices among the very types of Marxists that you say that your friends are, and many of these creators are close friends with the Chapo Trap House guys, whom your friends almost certainly are taking notes from. So it's nearly impossible to imagine that your friends have not encountered the near constant coverage of the struggle of the Palestinians that all the rest of us have. And yet still your friends do nothing. Still they do not care, and dismiss you when you share with them how despairing you feel.
Your friends have turned off an essential part of their hearts, I think. And I don't mean they lack empathy. Not having empathy is fine, I don't have it either -- but I make the conscious choice to care about the Palestinian cause and to advocate for it, because it aligns with my values. I give a fuck. My giving a fuck is conveyed through my actions, not through what I think about or how I feel.
Your friends are showing no interest in learning more about this genocide or doing anything about it. Perhaps some degree of ignorance or hesitancy could be justified early on because the Israeli apologist propaganda is so far reaching, but we're well past the point of that explaining away inaction by now. Over 100,000 people are missing and over 30,000 are known to be dead and little girls are being shot by snipers while seeking medical care while babies are left to rot in their NICU beds.
Your friends know this. Maybe not everyone in the world does, but if they're so well-read about leftist issues, your friends do. And they have chosen, for some reason, not to care. They've disconnected from the pain the Palestinian people are in, unplugged from the steady stream of upsetting information, sought comfort in a politics that says all too conveniently that nothing they do matters, and when you try to share with them how much anguish you are feeling about the mass deaths happening throughout the world, they're dismissive toward you.
Your friends suck. If acknowleding reality and confronting the horrors of a genocide is too tough and triggering for them, then a lot of horrors here at home will be too much for their fragile egos too. There are so many leftists you could be surrounding yourself with instead, I promise -- people who give back to their communities, people who are in the streets doing the tough work of feeding and housing and fighting for the release from prison of people every day, instead of using those local struggles as a shield for their inaction on a more global scale.
Fuck these people for real. This is a big glaring red flag and it will be relevant to your friendship and your life. One day many of them might see you and your problems and your human needs as too much of a distraction from their dry academic jerk-off sessions too. I've seen it a dozen times. Sorry to be so blunt. But you seem like a person who is putting their attention in all the right places and I don't want to see that compassion squandered on people who won't ever show you the same consideration. You can find people who actually walk the walk, they're everywhere.
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i feel so high school (au) pt 2. charlos
anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle
(based on american high school setups cause of the song)
theatre kid!charles/stage crew!carlos: probably goes without saying but carlos knows how to ball, charles knows aristotle (though maybe not in the traditional sense). so here we’ll have carlos as the stereotypical jock, plays like four sports and is the team captain in all of them, lowkey giving frat boy energy and is honestly the only reason the school has won a game in the last four years. he’s probably known for being the only guy who’s both like a jacked up gym-is-life bro and also an utter gentleman, he’s always the one holding open doors and giving up his seat. and he’s usually pretty quiet/disengaged but if anyone disrespects a female teacher you know for a fact he’s death staring them into a puddle until it stops. the only fight he’s ever gotten into was with a guy who was harassing a girl at a dance and wouldn’t let her go when she tried to pull away.
charles is like the school heartbreaker, because he can never seem to make a relationship work no matter how many times he tries… and it seems like he’s a player and he’s got a different girl every week which isn’t entirely false but he also just doesn’t know how to say no to anyone which is the root of the problem. anyway so yeah i’m making charles a theatre kid, like one who can fit pretty much any role but he prefers the classics (he’s the kind of guy who knows a shakespeare quote for pretty much any situation). he usually gets cast as the love interest whether he wants the role or not but he does get a lot of stage time which he’s happy with. he’s way more comfortable on stage than when he’s actually with people, and his looks get him pretty far but in reality he’s just really awkward and kind of shy and gets flustered so easily.
carlos is on stage crew because he needed to fill the “arts/language” requirement to graduate and stage crew counted as performing arts even though it’s all behind the scenes. so he’s there almost every day, spending more and more time as the shows approach helping build sets and man the ropes and (insert lots of other cool and technical stage crew activities here). so even they know of each other this is the first time their paths really cross and they meet.
this is going to be the most cliche romance ever. charles having breathless pearl-clutching moments of gay panic when carlos gets paint all over his shirt and stops to take it off, or lifts giant sandbags or ladders or planks around like they don’t weigh anything. except ofc charles is way too shy to say anything or make any kind of initiative move so he just finds excuses to stay longer after rehearsals, maybe he starts helping paint the sets/designs cause he’s not bad at visual arts (emphasis on alternate in this alternative universe). bonus if he makes friends with one of the stage crew girls and all of the sudden he’s got a new handler (“look around twink! everything in this office is either dead or dying even the therapy dog killed itself”) who is constantly rolling her eyes at BOTH of their inability to take a hint
this would be the kind of hc that involves dressing rooms and unexpected moments behind curtains etc.
#f1#formula 1#f1 rpf#fanfiction#charlos#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#cl16#cs55#1655#high school au#you know how to ball i know aristotle#in over my head(canon)
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rewatching ofmd s1 and I'm absolutely blown away by how much Jim comes into themselves by the end of season two. Knowing the character they become its really stunning to see how disengaged and cynical they are at the start of it all.
Their motivations are almost entirely reactive, to escape Spanish jackie and then to live out their nanas dream of justice. The while time they are in survival mode, moving quickly and efficiently and quietly. Ultimately, moving how they were trained to and nothing else. Because it works! It works so well that I didn't consider something might be missing.
But in season two they're made to be messy, loud. They are stuck on Ed's Breakdown Ship and so have to act differently than they ever have. Not just because they are yelling and screaming and covered in blood cutting a guys leg off, either. They're connecting and caring and critiquing and supporting, they're emotionally engaged in a real way that they very much weren't in season 1. Every day on Ed's ship is horrible, but at least they're present for it. Every day pushes them to be in survival mode but they refuse. They tell fang a story, they kiss Archie back. When Ed says "kill or die" they say "no."
And then, after all that, when they finally get to rest again? Yeah, it's a rough transition, but once they get through it they're absolutely fucking teeming with life. They're painting on a mustache, they're creating conspiracies, they're crossing boundaries to get olus girlfriend back. When the dust settles Jim is inhabiting themselves in a way we haven't seen in the show previously. There is a richness to their character that feels incredibly natural and earned, to the point that I didn't even notice it until I went back to season one and realized how lost they were.
Its pretty obvious that this show is about Ed and stedes collective mid life crisis, but it wasn't until now that I realized its also Jim's coming of age
#Which is to say NOTHING of the gender of it all#ofmd season 2#Ofmd#Jim Jimenez#I was starting to think I wouldn't write any meta for this season#And then#Mine#Ofmd meta#I have s1ep4 paused halfway thru rn because this swept through me like a hurricane#I will take my attention now thank you ��🫴
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On June 19th 1306 the army of Robert the Bruce suffers a defeat at the hands of the English at the Battle of Methven, west of Perth.
In late February 1306 word had reached King Edward I in London, that the Bruce had murdered John Comyn, the English King was ill at the time so he dispatched his cousin Aymer de Valence North with instructions to "burn, slay and raise dragon". Valence, was also brother-in-law of the murdered John Comyn, so had a score to settle and headed north leading the vanguard of an English army.
By early June the English had seized Perth their armies numbers were swelled by supporters of the murdered Comyn. Edward was left in London and began assembling an invasion force to follow Valance when he was well enough to lead it.
The capture of Perth left Bruce with a dilemma. On the one hand he needed to take action to show he was an effective commander and it made sense to deal with the English vanguard before the entire might of the army arrived under Edward I. However, Bruce only had limited forces with which to deal with a well equipped English host. On balance he decided to fight and marched to Perth arriving outside the walls of the town on 18th June 1306.
Valence, was an experienced soldier who had fought with Edward I in his continental campaigns and in Scotland. The size of the army at his disposal is disputed with the various sources contradicting each other as to whether it was larger or smaller than the Scottish force. The configuration of the English army is also unknown although it seems likely it consisted on a significant number of mounted troops.
The Scottish forces were under the direct command of Robert the Bruce and are generally said to have numbered around 4,500 strong although this figure is probably over-inflated. Bruce's deputy at Methven was Christopher Seton with other notable commanders including Gilbert Hay and James Douglas, so his army would have had good chance if they had met in open combat.
Late afternoon on 18 June 1306 Bruce's force approached Perth. Envoys were sent forward to request the English march out of the town and fight a pitched battle. Valence refused to accept the challenge on the grounds it was too late in the day for a battle to be begin. The size of the two forces may also have been a factor in his decision, leading me to think the Scots might have outnumbered the English.
Either way Bruce believed that no battle would be fought that day and withdrew his forces five miles west towards Methven. That site was chosen due the proximity of a small brook and a woodland enabling the Scots to forage for supplies. They then settled down for the night pitching their billets across the area. There seems to have been little thought given to deploying sentries or sending scouts forward to keep an eye on the English.
Valence had no intention of agreeing to an orderly pitched battle. As far as he was concerned, he was not only dealing with rebels but ones that had murdered a relative on holy ground. Before dawn in the wee sma' hours he led his men out of Perth and proceeded west along the road to Crieff. Little is known about the sequence of the battle but, whenever the Scots became aware of the English advance, it was too late. The English assault would have been spearheaded by the heavily armoured, mounted Knights that stormed into the unprepared Scottish camp. With no time to muster a defensive formation, the dispersed Scottish infantry had no chance and were cut to pieces.
The Scottish forces fled the battlefield but were cut down and casualties may have numbered in the thousands. Some form of rearguard action must have been fought because Bruce and his key supporters, along with 500 troops, managed to disengage and retreat west towards Crieff.
Bruce fled the battlefield and in the days that followed at Dalrigh was ambushed by about a thousand men led by John MacDougall of Lorne, kinsmen of the murdered Red Comyn. I will pick up the story then, but, as we know now The Bruce escaped.
A simple stone marks the site of the Battle of Methven.
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Communication
Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader
Fandom: Grimm
Request: Yes by Anon (Technically)
Warnings: Brief Strong Language, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending
Word Count: 2,413
Main Masterlist: Here
Grimm Masterlist: Here
Summary: Having never expected to be in love with a kehrseite, Sean has no idea how to proceed in the relationship.
Evil is also not anything small or close to home, and not the worst; otherwise one could grow accustomed to it.
“Sean! Stop it!” A feminine giggle sounded through the condo as she was attacked by her boyfriend.
“Never, my dear.” Sean continued to drape his body over hers, and nuzzle his day old scruff into her neck.
It was a blessed couple of days off for the couple, and a rare occurrence. Appreciating the time, they spent majority of it tangled up in the silken sheets of their bed, and only left it for necessary things. Hearing the phone start to ring, Renard groaned, and dropped them back down onto the bed together.
“You should probably answer that, darling.” Reaching her hand out to grab the offending item, he snatched her wrist back into his quickly.
“No. Work already know that I wanted to not be disturbed while off today and yesterday. Do not pick it up!” He demanded with a light growl into her neck, causing more giggles to erupt. She tried to speak, but Sean simply captured her lips in his, taking any words that may have previously been spoken. Whether they simply chose to ignore the ringing, or it stopped and started again, the couple heard it once more, and groaned.
“You really should check on that. It’s starting to annoy me.” She complained, disengaging their lips and dropping her head on to the pillows below. Renard allowed his head to find purchase on her chest, before he grabbed the phone. Pausing as he saw the number across his screen, he sat up like he had been burned and went to leave the room. Pulling on some pants, he finally answered the phone.
“Oui?” Sean clipped, surging out of the room and leaving his lover behind on the bed. He had shut the door, which meant that she could not hear him clearly, but she knew he was speaking entirely in French. It was not a language that she knew a lot about, having only picked up a a few phrases from spending time around her lover.
Laying back against the silken sheets, she breathed a deep sigh of discontent. There were no secrets between them, except whatever he spoke about on those phone calls in French. At first, she handled the excuse that it was political work, stuff that came with being captain of the police force in Portland. But she had heard those phone calls with his detectives and officers, they were all in English. She did not know what he was hiding from her, but it was starting to make her sick. Sean returned to the room, this time without the phone to his ear, and made his way to their shared closet.
“Darling, I have to go in. Something came in at work.” He called, picking out a suit for him to wear. She sat up and clutched the sheets to her body.
“You’re supposed to be off for the rest of today,” came her complaint. Sean sighed and moved his way to the bathroom and started the shower.
“I’m sorry, dear. But I have to go in. Duty calls. Would you care to join me?” He held out his hand, but she turned around and showed her back instead.
Sean made quick work of his shower after that. He could probably spare a few minutes to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee with his lover, but she seemed content to stay in bed and not speak with him. Fixing his tie as best as he could, Sean draped his suit jacket, and tan over coat over the chair at the desk in the room. Kneeling down to where his girlfriend had turned over, he reached out a hand and stroked her arm.
“Help me with my tie?” He pleaded, watching her purse her lips. She sat up, and straightened out the tie residing on Renard’s chest. They both knew that he was more than capable of making sure his tie was perfect, he had been doing it for so long that it was second nature. But neither one called attention to it; it was a sense of bliss for them, allowing her to help him finish getting ready for the day.
“Darling, I know that it’s not how we planned, but-”
“But you have to go in. It’s okay. I’m fine. I get it. Doesn’t mean that I can’t be upset about it.” She cast her eyes down to her hands. Sean leaned up, and guided her gaze back to his with a gentle touch of her chin.
“When are you going to tell me what it is you’re hiding?” The sudden question made the man force himself to school his expression. It was only a matter of time before she had questions.
“It’s just work, dear. Nothing more than that.” Sean tried to reassure her, but she slipped from his grasp and to the other side of the bed. He sighed once more, and felt himself lose just a hint of control over his being. He was glad that she was turned away from him at that moment, because he could feel the woge taking over before he quelled it.
“I’ll be home tonight in time to make our reservation. Je t’aime, mon cher.” He called, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before he left. Normally, she perked up and almost preened under hearing him speak French to her, but she stayed underneath the covers till she heard the front door shut behind the police captain.
Going through their days were tough. She was bored at home, with no one but herself, and simply allowed herself to waste away the day. It did not feel like a specially requested day off anymore; it just felt like a regular day off from her job. Meanwhile, Sean had been trying to figure out what his family was up to, and made his way to an out of use, abandoned building. However, what he was met with, was nothing. The sun was starting to set and he needed to get home. Sean had no time for games. Ringing the phone of the person who called him, he nearly jumped hearing the ringing coming from less than a foot away from him. Underneath the phone, was a note. A note that, when read, made Sean drop it and race to his car.
We do not take kindly to outsiders. No matter how they find their way into your bed.
Renard definitely broke several traffic laws trying to race home. He never should have left this morning. He never should have left her all by herself. And now, he may never get the chance to leave her at home again. Sean took stairs two at a time to make it up to his condo, and immediately drew his gun upon finding his door. The view inside that awaited him was unlike anything he had seen that day, let alone that week.
Broken glass from a picture frame was right inside the door. A shattered vase lay in pieces upon the ground of the kitchen. And his lover, bloody, beaten, and bruised, was being held up by two people Sean did not know, with a third standing nearby with a knife dripping in blood, and a fourth person observing it all.
“Come now. No need for something so American.” A smooth, accented voice broke the captain free from his wandering mind. He noted a cut on the side of the face of the man holding a knife, and felt relief that those self defense lessons he had given her paid off a little bit. The third cut man came upon Sean, and relieved him of his firearm, leaving him without a weapon.
“What’s this all about?” Renard questioned, watching the but man go back to where his lover was still being held up by her arms.
“Oh, this?” He motioned to Sean and his lover across the room. “This is just business. Nothing personal you see.” The captain was steadily clearing the distance in the room but was stopped by a gun pointed at him. It prevented him from getting any closer to his lover.
“Now, you might be wondering, why all of this. Well,” the accented man started, “truly, it is quite simple. We want the key that the Grimm has. Failure to retrieve it will send a, how do you say, unfortunate lesson to your door.” Sean listened to him, but kept his eyes on the woman across the room that struggled to return his gaze.
“And her, ah. Such a lovely woman. But even you must know, that with your… heritage, we will not allow your relationship to continue.” He chuckled as he raked his eyes over the woman’s body. She visibly cringed and struggled against her captures, wanting nothing more than to pluck the eyes from his head so she never had to feel that gaze again.
“Have you even told her of what you are?” The man continued, running a hand over the captive woman’s face.
“Sean, what is he talking about?” She whimpered, locking her gaze onto her lover that stood in front of her. The man said nothing which prompted the other one to laugh.
“Oh, this is just too good. You really have yet to find a way to break it to the little kehrseite. Maybe we should find a way to do so.” Nodding towards the captain, the woman was deposited into the arms of the main man who held her tightly towards his chest. Three against one, it appeared that Sean was outmatched for this fight. As she stared at them, unable to pull her eyes from the inevitable fight, she watched as the three people who held her shifted into something more resembling a dog than a person.
Her gasps were cut short as a hand fitted itself around her throat, cutting off any noise that threatened to escape.
“You won’t want to miss this.” The man hissed in her ear.
One after the other, the three dog people attacked Sean. He grunted and tried to block their attacks, but it was in vain. They kept landing hit after hit, and as much as he tried to fight back, they were simply too powerful for him. That is when he saw it. A similar ripple came across Sean’s face, leaving his right eye and left side of his mouth deformed. She did not know what she was seeing. Her boyfriend was something like the people who attacked her. The man to her back was laughing as he watched the royal dispatch of the dogs easier now that he had shown his true colors.
“Beautiful!” He shouted, as three bodies laid at Sean’s feet. Whether they were dead or knocked out, she did not know. “Doesn’t it feel good to have that all released? No more hiding, mon ami!” But his triumph did not last long.
Narrowing his eyes on the man, Sean stalked over and attacked. Throwing punch after punch, he did not stop until the man was bloodied and beaten within an inch of his life. Hearing shuffling behind him, Renard turned towards the source. His girlfriend. Forcing the wage underneath his skin again, he tried to reach for her but she moved out of his way.
“What the hell was that?” She barked, but Sean said nothing.
“What’re you trying so hard to hide?” Through her screams, tears slipped down her face as she tried to process what was going on.
“Cher, I will explain everything to you soon. But you need medical attention.” He reached for her once more, and in a state of shock, she let him. Sean deposited her on the couch and grabbed his phone.
“This is captain Sean Renard. I need units and an ambulance at my residence.” She did not catch much of the phone call; her eyes stared at the three bodies that were lying on the floor.
“What just happened?” Came her whisper, so Sean sat down on the couch and held her hands.
“Just listen while I explain. Any questions you have, I’ll answer at the end.” And with that, they sat there, listening and talking until the units arrived. Medics arrived before Sean could answer her questions but he made sure to tell her something very important.
“Whatever you do, don’t mention you saw anything weird happen. They’ll just throw you in the mental ward.” So she did not. Telling her side of the story, of how they slipped in through the front door and balcony and attacked her. How she smashed vases and tried to slice one with a kitchen knife she managed to grab. The beating that she had endured in the meantime till Sean got there and saved her.
Sitting down on a hospital bed, she smiled at the nice nurse who left the couple alone for the time being. Getting stitches and x-rays was not how she envisioned spending her day today, but here they were. They sat in silence and Sean tried to hold her hand. However, her hand was limp in his while she stared off into space.
“I’m so sorry, mon cher.” Renard admitted quietly. He leaned down slightly an pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“What are you?” She finally spoke. Lifting his head, he paused briefly to gather his thoughts.
“My mother was hexenbiest. My father was a royal. So I am half-zauberbiest.” He left nothing out, not wanting to keep secrets anymore.
“When you speak in French on your phone calls, is this why? You’re dealing with royal business?” Came her question.
“Yes.” He spoke.
“Okay. It’ll take a little getting used to but-” she paused, “I think I can live with it.” She nodded, and squeezed her lover’s hand softly.
“What did he call me? A ‘K’ something. Keera?” Struggling to find the word, Sean stepped in to help.
“Kehrseite?” He supplied. Her nod confirmed that was the word she was looking for.
“A kehrseite is a normal person. Not of the wesen world. However, I suppose you are now a kehrseite-schlich-kennen. A normal person who knows about our world.” Nodding again, she seemed to accept the information that her brain was being loaded with.
“No more secrets, please?” She whispered, looking towards Sean with soft eyes.
“No more secrets, my love.” He confirmed, and pressed a gentle kiss to her head. Evil is also not anything small or close to home, and not the worst; otherwise one could grow accustomed to it.
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