#that sort of attitude of 'the man not the celebrity' is literally just saying that you don't care actually care about him or his well-being

[astrovian]

y'know sometimes I see people making comments or talking about Richard Armitage's specific family members or hinting that they know who his potential partner might be or that they know which specific places he goes to regularly (e.g. gyms) and it always makes me:

a) want to barf a little and apologise profusely to RA that people are so horrific

and

b) reminds me of not only how little I know about all that but also how much I enjoy being blissfully & wilfully ignorant on these topics

[venusandsaturnsrings]

boothill is many things. a gunslinging outlaw, a ninety percent metal man, someone who’s attitude definitely reflects in his appearance, but most importantly; a nuisance. a thorn in your side. an ear grating bother. he knows this and he takes advantage of it, especially when your hands are tied up with plenty other business. unfortunately, things took a more literal sense.

you had been sipping a glass of something at a table in a small saloon, celebrating a coworkers birthday who you couldn’t even remember the name of but it was an excuse to get out and, besides, they said they’d pay for the first round of drinks so who were you to decline? people had been dancing in front of you and perhaps your chosen activity of observing had gotten too meticulous as you hadn’t noticed the slinking shadow drift past, nimble fingers dropping a pill of god knows what into your drink. the sweet and citrus flavour of the cocktail masking whatever taste could’ve been left as you continued drinking with your head in your hand. as you got to the bottom of the glass, your eyelids felt heavy and thus did you take the cue to get going home. after bidding a couple farewells and good wishes to the birthday person who’s face was a blur, you stepped out into the cold breeze feeling sluggish; as if you’d had ten drinks and not just one. squinting, you steadied your breath before walking, neglecting to notice that same figure sauntering up behind you. it was the smell of gunpowder and musk that alerted you, spinning around faster than you should have and nearly hitting the ground if he hadn’t caught you in time with a half-hearted chuckle. bubbles clouding your vision, you could only internally groan at the smatter of white, black, and red before you were out cold.

coming to, the first thing you noticed were the tight bindings keeping your body uncomfortably still. thick rope wrapped around your torso and wrists, forbidding you from moving even and inch. wherever he had taken you, it was dark and damp with only the sound of your breathing to keep you company up until the telltale ‘click’ of his shoes and the concurrent ‘ting’ of his spurs. a cold metal finger slid across your chin and only then did you notice how blazingly hot you felt all over. you sucked in a breath, waiting for him, boothill, to say something but he uttered no more than a low hum as his fingers drew icy patterns down your neck and chest. a shudder wracked your body and he moved in front of you, his eyes holding some sort of emotion you weren’t quite familiar with on his face; somewhere between his ‘hand it over’ greed and ‘nice shot’ dry praise. he settled between your now untied, when did he do that you wondered, legs with his metal frame pressed firm into you. never before had you considered the intricacies of his body but with him so close and a different kind of pressure against your crotch, you figured he had some sort of… attachment. fear whipping through your chest, it was then you realized what exactly this evenings plans were for him and they were punctuated with his usual tacky speech.

“c’mon, darlin’, let’s play a bit. this cowboys gotta bullet special for ya’.”

[zeciex]

Looking at the whole trajectory, it is rare that we see Daenera vulnerable - for herself - I have seen her suffer for Daemon, her mother, Luke, the usurpation …. but not for what she has lost as an individual person, which is basically Aemond. I have not seen her suffer that loss, she has clung to hatred and rage to feel nothing for him, so much as to put a curse on him. Maybe it's too far for them. I think her friendship with Helaena suits her very well, she is the only person with whom I can see the Daenera generous, kind, with good feelings and …. less angry with the world.

I understand her fear and desperation, but gods, it's only because of him that you are alive and not in a prison underground. I really hope that this attitude will soften with the baby, since is not only hers but also Aemond's, it is just unfair that she won't let him be a part of his son.

And that's it, that's the only complaint I have, otherwise, I think it's a perfect story, plot, canon, characters. Your way of describing feelings, how you have all the characters super nuanced is incredible. Sometimes there are fics better than books.

Daenera has sacrificed and suffered for Daemon and her mother. She has been rightfully angry over the usurpation, and she is grieving the loss of her brother... but she is also grieving the loss of Aemond. Her freedom has been stolen and her world has turned upside down, and she feels like she has no control over her life, so she has a right to be angry and annoyed with Aemond--which she was, but we still saw them have that connection and finding solace on one another. There were still love there. But then Aemond killed her brother. And she feels guilty and shame that she ever loved him because he killed her brother. And even more so, she feels guilt and shame because she still love him. How could she still love him? How could she still feel for him after what he has done? She feels betrayed by her own heart to still feel it, and so, she buries it in anger and resentment. And I think that's her right because HE KILLED HER BROTHER! And not only did he kill her brother but then he continue to make a mockery of his death by having a party thrown in celebration of that murder--he literally says that he will kill the rest of her siblings. And THAT is what drives her to curse him. I think her cursing him were her grasping for some sort of control as well as letting out her anger--and we see her connecting to something dangerous and powerful, but STILL she writes it off as a silly thing because why should her curse work? What makes her so special? She writes it off as a childish notion, but we know its more--she doesn't.

It is not to late for them. But as of where we are in the story, it has been like... 10-12 days since her brother was murdered. She's allowed to be fucking vengeful and angry. She's allowed to be cruel. And this will carry on throughout most of the pregnancy as we know it BUT there will be developments between them! There will be progression! Aemond is making an effort, and he won't ever right the wrong he did or undo the hurt, but Daenera realizes that she needs him to survive--which is something she realized before Luke was even killed, but even if she knew this she still had a right to keep Aemond at a distance given where they were.

By the time the baby comes, they're down the path of reconciliation--they're not fully there, but they're down it. And we'll get some fluff.

If we split up Act 1 of season 2 of the story we'll get these two era's for Dae/Aemond: --Daenera being deliberately cruel and rightfully angry, and Aemond enduring it. And --slow progression

But I think we should allow Daenera to be as angry as she wants because again; she is a hostage and has been robbed of her freedom, she's enduring abuse and vitriol, and she's married to the man who murdered her brother in what she thinks is cold blood. (and it partially is) Anyone would be pissed. And I think that for this, it would be Daenera's every right no neither want a baby with him or keep the baby away from him.

Logically, she KNOWS that her life and position hinges on Aemond. Logically she knows that having a child with Aemond gives her more power--but it also comes with greater risks and dangers; especially if its seen as a betrayal by her own family. But she is an emotional character.

Also, it's not only because if Aemond she's alive. The Hightowers would be fools to kill her, she's too great a bargaining chip, even if she poses a significant annoyance to them. Daenera would still be alive had she not been connected to Aemond and she'd likely have married Daeron or Gwayne or someone loyal to TG. And while yes, she might have been less comfortable as they'd put her in that chamber without a window, they wouldn't have outright put her in the dungeons. Again, that would make the people of king's landing pissed at TG and that is bad PR.

Aemond will be a part of their child's life--he will be there when it comes into the world and he will be there after. Aemond will also have some moments with Dae while she is pregnant.

Again, we'll generally candy bag full of emotions; some of them sweet, some bitter, some sour and so forth. There will be a slow, steady progression throughout the pregnancy where the relationship develops. And as Helaena said, anger burns bright and fierce, but eventually that will die out and what comes out of the ashes is a chance for reconciliation. Let Daenera burn bright and fierce, let her be depressed and scared, let her fight against the constraints placed on her, and let her be cruel. She needs to know she can trust Aemond again and trust is easily broken and tough to regain once it is broken. Aemond will have to work for it.

I hope you'll stick around through the tough part of Act 1. I promise you that there are fluffier and smuttier times ahead. Every storm breaks--she just need to rage and break some stuff before she does.

[asherlockstudy]

hi! love your analyses - I've been readin thru some of them and was curious to know your take on the rhett/christy dynamic and link/jessie dynamic?

smetimes I can't tell if they: r&c and l&j, are like begrudging friends that have grown to respect/love each other for how happy they make their s.o/best friend ? Or if they genuinely enjoy each others' company? or if maybe they're just straight up civil and that there's actually undercurrents of jealousy in their dynamics that make it harder for them to just like each other?

I know sometimes people just don't mesh well or their personalities clash or whatever but personally I'd love if they were all real close friends but I dont always get that vibe... (imo i feel like rhett likes christy more than christy likes him, and that jessie likes link more than link likes her but idk)

what do you think?

I have the same impression with you. The McLaughlins are friendlier to the Neals.

Let’s start from the clearest one: Link does not like Jessie very much. Or it’s not that he has anything against her per se but he is antagonistic towards her relationship with Rhett. It is evident in literally countless occasions how thin Link’s patience gets when Rhett mentions his wife. The clearest example was recently when he bursted out an “Enough with him talking about his wife!”. I mean, bruh… But it has been clear for years. From the very first seasons of GMM actually. Link also once admitted he wondered whether the height difference of the McLaughlins was a problem in their sexual lives. He often looks very uncomfortable, if not angry, when Rhett exposes some spicy details about his marital life. He has sometimes made questionable jokes, sort of questioning Jessie’s intelligence or skills. Rhett has typically been very patient with his remarks but I have noticed his annoyance is becoming more evident lately. Because lately Link has also made some bad jokes implying that Jessie could fancy him better instead. While Rhett proclaims himself not a jealous man, I believe he realises these jokes sort of harm Jessie’s image or feelings and he has started calling out Link more lately. I am totally with him in this. One contrast to all this was that in the past Link used to call out Rhett for implying fancying someone other than Jessie (like a hot celebrity) or sexualising Jessie a bit too much. This defense however doesn’t agree with the rest of Link’s behaviour and I suspect Link reacted in these occasions because he could relate (i.e he did not like hearing Rhett talk about celebrity crushes) and not because he genuinely cared about Jessie’s feelings. In any case, Link has repeatedly shown an attitude of disregard towards Jessie in public.

And now to the hardest one: Jessie. We will probably never know what Jessie truly feels for Link. And that is because Jessie has a natural predisposition for being friendly and warm. Even if Link acts shitty to her, she is probably more tolerant to it than the average person would be, because she really wants to get along with people. Jessie also cares for image and she likes the Californian semi-famous lifestyle, if i judge from her social media, so it is to her best interests to not oppose to Link hard enough to cause problems to Rhett’s relations to both. The best moment of interaction we have got from them is in an Ear Biscuit, when Jessie video called Rhett from her vacation without knowing they were filming EB. Rhett answered the call and Link was like trying to cover the screen and asked “oh my God is she naked?” (which is a moment very telling of Link’s jealousy bordering on paranoia in this case). Jessie then raised her voice saying “I am COMPLETELY clothed” and that is the best example of interaction of these two we have. I suppose Jessie might at times snap back at him but it is when she is provoked by Link. I don’t think she ever really starts it on her own. In other occasions, she has promoted Rhett, Link, and their friendship through her social media, but again this could have been for building up connections and social media power. In an interview, Rhett has admitted Jessie does feel jealous of his friendship with Link.

Now let’s go to Christy. Christy is a tough cookie. But I … don’t blame her. Christy is the most different person of the four. She is the only one who would prefer a quiet and private life in North Carolina. She is not interested in image or fame or celebrity life. She is also the one who still adheres most to traditional values, religion etc There are instances suggesting she is possessive or jealous of Link, like that incident when she flashed her wedding ring in front of somebody’s face in a gathering. She seems to be suspicious of Rhett and Link’s relationship. This is proven by things Link has revealed on multiple occasions. At times, Link and Christy’s marriage seemed to have its ups and downs and maybe some of the reasons might have been associated to that. Link said Christy accused him of hiding in his “Mythical Castle” and not caring for the reality and the challenges the family went through. One time, after Rhett made a joke I don’t remember well, Link got a little annoyed and said something like “My wife wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t even like you all that much”. Another time, Link described how he was explaining an idea of his to Christy, only for her to reply “Is this you? Or is this Rhett speaking through you?” Now, that’s a little heavy. It’s clear that Christy believes Rhett has way too much influence on Link and she dislikes this. I am not sure Christy dislikes Rhett for the person he is but she dislikes him for his power on her husband. We don’t have signs of Christy snapping against Rhett that we know of, but we have signs of Christy snapping against Link for Rhett’s sake. Christy is also a different personality than Jessie but she is bonded with her because of their shared experience to be married to one half of Rhett and Link. However, I have the feeling that if it meant returning to NC or Link becoming more independent from Rhett, Christy would cut contacts with the McLaughlins.

And now, to Rhett. Rhett does not dislike Christy. He likely sees a clever and strong-minded woman in her and he respects that. Rhett is a clever man and he senses Christy’s negative vibes towards him but he also almost certainly realises the reasons behind them. Which is why he prefers to diffuse the situation, lighten the atmosphere, let alone that he doesn’t like confrontations in general. Rhett did not bat an eyelid when Link revealed Christy did not like him very much. He knows but he puts up with it because he understands. However, Christy’s frustration is not important enough for him to back down from the influence he likes to have on Link. Or his bond with Link, anyway. In this sense, Rhett disregards Christy too after all, but he hides it much better than Link does. Rhett also has nowhere as thin a patience when Link shares spicy details, but he has his limits too. He still isn’t over that story of Link and Christy having beach sex lol. I believe, had it not been for their competitiveness for Link, Rhett and Christy could have a decent relationship of mutual respect.

*There is also a tale of a party some years ago, when allegedly Christy made a big fuss and it might or might have not been about Rhett, but as I don’t remember the details at all and it was rumours to begin with, I won’t draw conclusions from it here and DON’T hold me to this because it might be pure bs.

So when they vacation together or double date, I guess it’s mostly Rhett - Link and Jessie - Christy interaction. Then there might be some Rhett - Christy moments, if Christy does not feel challenged / threatened that day. More rarely, there might be some Link - Jessie moments, if Link is in a good mood enough for her to be able to humour him.

Anyway these are my personal speculations and conclusions. The incidents based on which I drew these conclusions are very much real, but I could be quite or not very accurate in my reasoning process. That works as a disclaimer I guess :P

[cassolotl]

Testosterone, Day 1,544

That’s 4.2 years, somehow?? 1.5 pumps of Tostran per day, which is 15mg testosterone, a pretty low dosage - I’m typically just under the masculine range and way above the feminine range.

I have two events to report today!

Event the first

This evening I was just bumbling around on the internet and poking my own chin in a kind of stimmy way, and found a weird sensation like something was stuck to my face, couldn’t work out what it was, went to look in the mirror but couldn’t see anything, all very odd. After a second or two of trying to grab it to remove it, I realised that it was just... a hair. :D Growing out of my face! So there you have it, folks - low dose T, does eventually cause at least one proper beard hair on the chin, like a little palm tree all alone on a desert island.

Event the second

I interviewed some candidates to be PAs (the disability kind, not the office kind) recently. In the job description I put that I’m nonbinary, and I also say in a sort of “desirable characteristics” bullet point list that candidates would ideally be familiar with LGBTQ+ issues, and use of gender-neutral pronouns in particular.

The first woman I interviewed was extremely oblivious. I introduced myself as being nonbinary and autistic and ADHD and having EDS, and asked if she wanted clarification of any of the terms, and she conspicuously didn’t ask more about the nonbinary part. The first question was “what are your pronouns?” and she was very confused, so we clarified like “some people want to be called ‘he’, some people want to be called ‘she’, some people (like me) are ‘they’...” and she said, “oh, I see! Miss!” And I had to say, “no, that’s your title, we mean pronouns, like he, she or they?”

So that was a good start??? And then later on there’s a question to test whether people can fluently use gender-neutral pronouns, which trips a lot of people up. It goes, “talk to us about a nonbinary person you know who prefers they/them pronouns.” (If they don’t know any, we invite them to talk about a nonbinary celebrity, or make someone up.) It’s not to find out your attitude to nonbinary people, it’s literally just to check if you can get my pronouns right. This woman entirely failed to refer to any nonbinary people, and told us about how she’s very accepting of diversity and has worked with a lot of gay designers. :D Amazing.

Anyway this was just some of the weird stuff from the interview, she also compared herself to Gandhi and Nelson Mandela, it was a time. But the whole point of me telling you this story is, she talked to my PA instead of me for a lot of the interview (also got a very low grade in that regard) and every time she referred to me in the third person she called me “he/him”. This is the latest of several incidences of people guessing that I’m a “he”, which is very novel compared to the first 35 years of my life.

(The good news is, the other two candidates I interviewed automatically aced that pronoun question - one was a they/them nonbinary person, and one was a she/they person.)

In summary

My flavour of being nonbinary is, I don’t want people to think I’m a man or a woman. I want to be gender teflon. But because society is a bit clueless, the best I can hope for much of the time is for people to guess “man” and “woman” about half of the time each.

I’d say this is pretty much the case right now, and has been for maybe about a year? When people gender me it is a little bit uncomfortable, but as soon as someone genders me in the other direction I feel better again. Like, oh thank goodness, I’ve not accidentally gone Full Dude. Or, phew, maybe testosterone does work after all. :D

My voice has finished doing whatever it’s going to do, and speech and language therapy has helped a lot. My face is a bit fuzzy, I’d guess I have to shave it maybe every 2-4 weeks? (My facial hair is very fair so far, I am not blessed with abundant melanin in general so it makes sense.) My body fat distribution is more on the masc side, I’ve put on 2 kg since I started and it has stopped increasing now, and it’s mostly on my belly, which I much prefer to the more feminine shape.

It’s very funny seeing how relative strangers interpret me and Avery as a duo. My lovely accepting nextdoor neighbour seems to think me and Avery are a straight couple, because he refers to me in feminine ways and then makes friendly jokes with Avery about being a bloke in a straight relationship, and at the same time he is definitely aware that something super queer is going on, so that’s a mystery, but it’s too hard to explain it to him and I don’t really mind ‘cos he clearly means well and is very sweet, so that’s fine!

In other news

I’m probably going to have a metoidioplasty surgery (bottom surgery) sometime in the next few months on the NHS?? Scary! But the outcome I want is relatively simple, not that much of a change, and will require only one surgery. I’m also due to have another chest revision surgery sometime soonish, because one side is still a little bit uneven, and it was going to happen years ago but then it had to be put on hold due to lack of support. Everything is back on now, and surgeries are once again like buses...!

In “blimey”

I worked out I was nonbinary when I was 24, so that’d be like 12 years ago, WHAAAAAAAAAT

[forever-rogue]

Obvious

Summary | It’s so obvious, isn’t it? Maybe not to Bucky. But you’re going to make his first Father’s Day something to remember.

Pairing | Bucky x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Warnings | slight language, pregnant!reader, references to sex

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At first you were positive you’d eaten something off and were suffering from a mild case of food poisoning. With your luck, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But then it lasted for more than a few days...and then some more after that. After a couple of weeks of denying that it could be anything but a mild stomach bug, you came to the earth stopping conclusion that it was something different entirely. 

The signs were all there, and it wasn’t that you had been ignoring them but...you had been ignoring them. The idea that it could have possibly been anything but a stomach bug was terrifying. But there was only so much hiding you could do from Bucky before he came extremely concerned at the sight of you repeatedly hunched over the toilet. He insisted you go to the doctor and knowing him, if you didn’t comply, he’d throw you over his shoulder and take you himself. 

After a little white lie of saying you’d go right away, you’d sneaked off to the corner drug store in search of those dreaded pregnancy tests. Bucky was off doing whatever the hell it was he and Sam did half the time, so you had a few hours to yourself. You felt like a criminal as you bundled up in a hoodie of Bucky’s and looked around furtively as you grabbed one of each of the tests and took them to the counter to pay before practically running home. 

You felt so silly, so dumb as you had the six tests on the counter, while your phone slowly ticked down the time. All the signs were there - how could you have ignored them? The missed period - wait, was it two? You’d been so bad about tracking them, you honestly didn’t even know. The morning sickness, apparently not food poisoning, the extra sensitive breasts, the fatigue. It all seemed so obvious now. 

You sighed as your timer went off and looked at the various tests. 

They only confirmed what you had already accepted. Pregnant. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt like you were floating on air as you walked out of the doctor’s office with some of the grainiest photos you had ever seen. But the only thing that mattered was the small little bean that you could clearly make out in the middle of them. Your little bean - yours and Bucky’s. Your baby.

It’d been a week since you’d taken the tests and made your little discovery. After that it had become a little game of hiding it all from Bucky - you wanted to tell him and soon, but you wanted to surprise him at the perfect time. You knew he’d be over the moon about it all. You’d talked about children, and it had been decided, especially since you’d been together for a few years now, that if it happened it happened when it would happen. But you just knew he wanted this - and honestly, so did you. Despite the extreme nerves it had set upon you.

So, you decided to play a little game with Bucky to see if and when he finally realized you were pregnant. Hopefully it’d be before you were showing - he wasn’t that blind after all. But you were going to have fun with this.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Buck,” you were sprawled on the couch, resting your head in his lap as the two of you watched a movie on Netflix. It had been a long day and there was nothing you wanted more than a quiet evening in - this was nothing short of pure bliss. He made a small sound of acknowledgment as he gently played with your hair, silently telling you to go on, “what do you think you’d want to name our baby? Boy or girl?”

Sure, it was anything but subtle, but the way you had been resting your hand on your belly wasn’t either. And he hadn’t caught onto that either. 

“Hmm, I’ve never really thought that much about it,” he mused as he looked down at you and offered you a soft smile. You grinned back at him as you grabbed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “I like...and don’t laugh at me - the idea of naming a son Steve. Maybe a daughter Rebecca or Sarah.”

“Bucky,” you could see that despite his seemingly disinterested attitude, he had actually given this a lot of thought. You knew they were so much more than just names,”those are lovely names. I think any one of those would be a lovely name for our baby.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost timidly as you reached up and touched his cheek, running your fingers over his stubble as you nodded. He practically keened into your warm, gentle touch as his eyes closed, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bub,” you whispered as he pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, “let’s get to bed, huh? It’s getting late and I’ve just been so incredibly tired lately.”

“Come on,” he slowly ushered you up and off his lap before standing and stretching. You couldn’t help but admire him as a rush of love overwhelmed you. You really loved him more than anything - well him and your small bean now. Bucky effortlessly leaned over and scooped you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he walked towards the bedroom, “you’re so beautiful.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Sarge,” you grinned as you rested your head against his shoulder, “but I almost feel like I’ve just got this...glow lately ya know?”

“You always do,” he promised with a kiss to the top of your head as you almost burst out laughing. So many not-so-subtle-hints and he still didn’t catch on. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Bub? You in the kitchen?” you called from the bedroom, knowing damn well he was there, finishing up a big weekend breakfast for the two of you. You tip-toed out of the bedroom, pulling on your - his - shirt to indulge in a lazy Sunday. 

“I’m in here, sweetheart,” he looked up and smiled softly as soon as you came into view. He still looked at you as though you had personally hung the stars and moon, like he was still in the process of falling in love with you every single day, “hi.”

“Hi,” you walked over to him and motioned behind, “can you do me a huge favor and get me a glass of water and my vitamins? I left them on the counter.”

“So demanding,” you both were aware of the fact that he’d never say no to you. You took a seat at the bar, hopping onto your stool as you swung your legs back and forth and waited for him to either realize what was going on, or make some sort of joke. But instead he hummed some tune under his breath as he set a glass of water in front of you and grabbed your vitamins. 

The man, this silly, lovely man, picked up the bottle of prenatal vitamins, opened them, and handed two of them to you before following up with your other supplements. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him in awe - you’d literally put it all in front of his nose and he still didn’t catch on. 

Goodness Gracious.

“There you are, pretty girl,” he leaned over and kissed you gently before turning back to the stove. You watched him with a dumbfounded expression but slowly  grabbed your water and vitamins and downed them, “anything you want do today?”

Alright. You were willing to push a little further and see if he finally caught on.

“There’s a new store that opened up downtown,” you said noncommittally, “they umm...have a lot of baby and kid stuff and I wanted to go ahead and check it out.”

“Sure thing,” nope. Apparently you were going to have to hit over the head with a two by four, “sounds good. We’ll go after breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, shaking your head in amusement, “sounds good to me too, bub.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been almost a month of dropping hint after hint, and they had been becoming increasingly less subtle. You were pretty sure that you could have just straight up told him you were pregnant at this point and he still wouldn’t have gotten it. 

But you had one last little idea - Father’s Day had come around and you were going to make sure his first father’s day was special. Maybe it was silly to celebrate when the baby wasn’t even born yet, but you didn’t care - you just wanted to finally tell him. 

The evening before Father’s Day, you’d let Bucky go to bed first, telling him you were just going to be a little longer, needing to finish up some work. He believed it hook, line, and sinker, and told you to join him soon. Once he was snoring soundly, asleep on his back with the gold and black vibranium arm splayed over your side of bed, you pulled out all the supplies you’d gotten. 

You made quick - and quiet - work of blowing up multicolored balloons and throwing some confetti around. You’d regret it later but the surprise would be worth it. Once you were satisfied, you grabbed the newest sonograms you’d gotten at the doctor the day before and tucked them into the envelope along with the card you’d picked out. After writing on the card, you sealed the envelope and on the front side simply wrote Happy Father’s Day. 

On the back, knowing how Bucky was, you scrolled one more little note. You left it all on the counter, along with the box of cupcakes you’d snagged from his favorite bakery, ready for him to discover in the morning. He’d be up before, and he’d have the little surprise to wake up to. 

Hopefully this time the message was loud and clear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky stifled a yawn as he slowly crawled out of the bed, stretching his stiff limbs. You were still all bundled up and lightly snoring with a little smile on your face. He reached down and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Slowly making his way down the hall, a confused expression crossed his features as he noticed the glittering confetti on the floor. How strange.

But as he walked into the living room and saw the ballrooms all over the place he was visibly confused. What on earth was going on? He picked one that was close to his foot up and played with it for a moment before lightly smacking it across the room. He perked up when he saw the colorful box on the counter, a clear giveaway that it was from his favorite place.

Shuffling across the room, he was ready to throw open the box and indulge in an early morning sweet treat when he was stopped by the card on top. He picked it up and instantly recognized your handwriting. Happy Father’s Day!

It must have been for your father...maybe this all was for him and your parents were coming over and he’d somehow managed to forget about it all. He would definitely hear about that later on from you. Shit. 

No...he surely would have remembered that. He was old but his memory was still sharp. He felt the envelope beneath his fingers, noting that it was slightly thicker than a normal card. Curious. He flipped it over and his heart almost stopped when he saw what you had written on the flap.

Yes. This is really for you, James.

James. That’s how you knew you were being serious. 

His heart felt like it was almost bursting out of his chest as he slowly slid a vibranium finger underneath the seal, careful to prevent any rips or tears. After what seemed like a millennia, he opened the thing and pulled out the card, along with the sheet of photos. 

Bucky’s mouth fell open and formed a small o as he looked as he read over your sweet message in the card. Once he studied the grainy photos and realized that holy shit, this was your baby - his baby. You were having a baby! He inhaled - a shaky broken little thing as he fought back a few tears. After all this time, he was getting something he thought would only be a dream. 

“Surprise,” you whispered so you wouldn’t completely scare him. You’d woken up a few moments after him, already missing his body and warmth as soon as he had left. You had tip-toed after him and watched him finally realize what you had been dropping hints about for almost a month. His reaction had been everything, priceless. 

“Sweetheart…” he looked between you and grainy photos in his hand, his blue eyes gentle and glossy as you walked over to him, “we’re having a baby?”

“Yeah, bub, we are,” you promised, feeling tears well up in your own eyes as you carded a hand through his soft hair, “I’ve been trying to tell you for like a month. But you, sir, do not pick up on anything. Baby names? Prenatals...the baby store? The continued morning sickness. For a moment I thought I’d have to have the baby before you realized what was going on. I wasn’t being subtle anymore.”

“Oh...oh,” he said as a dark pink blush crept into his cheeks, “okay now it all seems so clear. I guess I...man, I’m blind.”

“Yeah, old man,” you teased softly, “turns out that food poisoning was never food poisoning at all. It was morning sickness.”

“Shit,” he was incredulous, “a baby. I can’t believe it...how far along are you?”

“Almost twelve weeks at this point,” you laughed, “I was wondering if you’d realize before I started to show.”

His hands found your hips as he played with the hem of your sweater before slowly pushing it up. A warm, gentle touch found your belly as he leaned in and brushed his lips over yours, offering you the sweetest kiss, “thank you.”

“For what?” you eagerly accepted his kiss and offered him a few more. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into his body and holding you close to him. Soon it would be a very different type of closeness. 

“For you,” he whispered, “for this...us - our family. I...it’s just that I never thought I would be good enough for all of this.”

“Of course you are, Bucky,” you promised softly, reaching up and touching his cheek, “you are a good man. You are. I love you so much, more than anything in this world. You are worthy of this, you have always been worthy. I will gladly spend every day of my life showing you that if I have to.”

“I love you,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“I love you too,” you beamed, “now, how about you eat a cupcake and I’ll start breakfast. Then we can start telling everyone that you knocked me up!”

“It sounds so dirty when you put it like that - I like it. I’m sure we had fun doing it too,” he snorted as he opened the box of cupcakes, grinning when he saw that they too proclaimed Happy Father’s Day. 

“What makes you think that, old man?” you bumped his hips with yours as you opened the fridge to get the ingredients for some omelets.

“Because we always have fun.”

“Cheeky!”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a lie,” He grabbed one and took a bite before offering you a taste, but you shook your head, “no?”

“It’s not me,” you insisted, pointing at the tiny swell that was slowly becoming evident, “the bean doesn’t seem to like sweets very much. At least not right now.”

“More for me,” he grinned as he pumped his fist in victory, causing you to dramatically roll your eyes before laughing, “hopefully the bean will be nice soon and let you partake. Oh…”

“Oh?”

“We have so much to do,” reality suddenly hit as his eyes widened and you laughed, “we’ll have to set up the spare room as the nursery. Your doctor’s visits - I want to come of course, and then all the stuff we’ll need when the they come-”

“James,” you put a finger to his lips as you quietly shushed him, “relax, bub. Breathe - we have plenty of time. There’s no reason to panic...today we’ll be lazy and relax, tomorrow we can figure everything out. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he visibly calmed down as you grounded him - just like you always did, “we’ll figure it out. We can do this.”

“Yeah, we can,” you agreed softly as he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before kissing it. Gods, you really loved him more than anything, “Happy Father’s Day, Bucky.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I have always appreciated your thoughtful views on the defence of the British monarchy, and as a university historian it’s reassuring to see someone using history to make invalubale insights to a controversial institution. I wonder what are your own thoughts on the passing of Prince Philip and what his legacy might be? Was he a gaffe prone racist and a liability to the Queen?

I know you kindly got in touch and identified yourself when you felt I was ignoring your question. I’m glad we cleared that up via DM. The truth is as I said and I’m saying here is that I had to let some time pass before I felt I could reasonably answer this question. Simply because - as you know as someone who teaches history at university - distance is good to make a sober appraisal rather than knee jerk in the moment judgements.

Contrary to what some might think I’m not really a fan girl when it comes to the royal family. I don’t religiously follow their every movement or utterance especially as I live in Paris and therefore I don’t really care about tabloid tittle tattle. I only get to hear of anything to do with the royal family when I speak to my parents or my great aunts and uncles for whom the subject is closer to their heart because of the services my family has rendered over past generations to the monarchy and the older (and dying) tight knit social circles they travel in.

Like Walter Bagehot, I’m more interested in the monarchy as an institution and its constitutional place within the historical, social, and political fabric of Britain and its continued delicate stabilising importance to that effect. It was Walter Bagehot, the great constitutional scholar and editor the Economist magazine, who said, “The mystic reverence, the religious allegiance, which are essential to a true monarchy, are imaginative sentiments that no legislature can manufacture in any people.” In his view, a politically-inactive monarchy served the best interests of the United Kingdom; by abstaining from direct rule, the monarch levitated above the political fray with dignity, and remained a respected personage to whom all subjects could look to as a guiding light.

Even as a staunch monarchist I freely confess that there has always been this odd nature of the relationship between hereditary monarchy and a society increasingly ambivalent about the institution. To paraphrase Bagehot again, there has been too much ‘daylight’ shone onto the ‘magic’ of the monarchy because we are obsessed with personalities as celebrities.

Having said that I did feel saddened by the passing of Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. After the Queen, he was my favourite royal. Anne, Princess Royal, would come next because she is very much like her father in temperament, humour, and character, so unlike her other brothers.

I have met the late Prince Philip when I was serving in the army in a few regimental meet-and-greet situations - which as you may know is pretty normal given that members of the royal family serve as honorary colonel-in-chiefs (patrons in effect) of all the British army regiments and corps.I also saw him at one or two social events such the annual charitable Royal Caledonian Ball (he’s an expert scottish reeler) and the Guards Polo Club where my older brothers played.

I’ll will freely confess that he was the one royal I could come close to identify with because his personal biography resonated with me a great deal.

Let’s be honest, the core Windsor family members, born to privilege, are conditioned and raised to be dull. Perhaps that’s a a tad harsh. I would prefer the term ‘anonymously self-effacing’, just another way of saying ‘for God’s sake don’t draw attention to yourself by saying or doing anything even mildly scandalous or political lest it invites public opprobrium and scrutiny’. The Queen magnificently succeeds in this but the others from Charles down just haven’t (with the exception of Princess Anne).

However, many people forget this obvious fact that it’s the incoming husbands and wives who marry into the Windsor family who are relied upon to bring colour and even liven things up a little. And long before Kate Middleton, Meghan Markle (very briefly), or Lady Diana Spencer, were the stars of ‘The Firm’- a phrase first coined by King George VI, Queen Elizabeth II's father who ruled from 1936 to 1952, who was thought to have wryly said, "British royals are 'not a family, we're a firm,” - it was Prince Philip who really livened things up and made the greater impact on the monarchy than any of them in the long term.  

Prince Philip’s passing belied the truth of a far more complex individual: a destitute and penniless refugee Greek-Danish prince with a heart breaking backstory that could have been penned by any 19th Century novelist, and also eagle eyed reformer who tried to drag the royal family into the 20th century. At the core of the man - lost scion of a lost European royal dynasty, a courageous war veteran, and Queen’s consort - were values in which he attempted to transform and yet maintain much older inherited traditions and attitudes. Due to his great longevity, Philip’s life came to span a period of social change that is almost unprecedented, and almost no one in history viewed such a transformation from the front row.

Prince Philip would seem to represent in an acute form the best of the values of that era, which in many ways jar with today’s. He had fought with great courage in the war as a dashing young naval officer; he was regularly rude to foreigners, which was obviously a bonus to all Brits. He liked to ride and sail and shoot things. He was unsentimental almost to a comic degree, which felt reassuring at a time when a new-found emotional incontinence made many feel uncomfortable. Outrageous to some but endearing to others, he was the sort of man you’d want to go for a pint with, perhaps the ultimate compliment that an Englishman can pay to another Englishman. This has its own delicious irony as he wasn’t really an Englishman.

There are 4 takeways I would suggest in my appraisal of Prince Philip that stand out for me. So let me go through each one.

1. Prince Philip’s Internationalism

It may seem odd for me to say that Prince Philip wasn’t English but he wasn’t an Englishman in any real sense. He was a wretch of the world - stateless, homeless, and penniless. That the Prince of Nowhere became the British Monarchy’s figurehead was more than fitting for a great age of migration and transition in which the Royal Family survived and even flourished. That he was able to transform himself into the quintessential Englishman is testimony not just to his personal determination but also to the powerful cultural pull of Britishness.

He was born on a kitchen table in Corfu in June 1921. A year later in 1922, Philip, as the the great-great-grandson of Queen Victoria and nephew of Constantine I of Greece, was forced to flee with his family after the abdication of Constantine. He grew up outside Paris speaking French; ethnically he was mostly German although he considered himself Danish, his family originating from the Schleswig border region. He was in effect, despite his demeanour of Royal Navy officer briskness, a citizen of nowhere in an age of movement. From a very young age he was a stateless person, nationally homeless. Indeed, Philip was an outsider in a way that even Meghan Markle could never be; at his wedding in 1947, his three surviving sisters and two brothers-in-law were not permitted to attend because they were literally Britain’s enemies, having fought for the Germans. A third brother-in-law had even been in the SS, working directly for Himmler, but had been killed in the conflict.

Even his religion was slightly exotic. He was Greek Orthodox until he converted to Anglicanism on marrying Elizabeth - what with his wife due to become supreme head of the Church and everything  - but his ties with eastern Christianity remained. His great-aunts Princess Elisabeth of Hesse and by Rhine and Tsarina Alexandra are both martyrs of the Russian Orthodox Church, having been murdered by the Bolsheviks; Philip’s mother went on to become an Orthodox nun and a “Righteous Among the Nations” for saving a Jewish family during the Nazi occupation of Greece, spending much of her time in squalid poverty.

His parents were part of the largely German extended aristocracy who ruled almost all of Europe before it all came crashing down in 1918. When he died, aged 99, it marked a near-century in which all the great ideological struggles had been and gone; he had been born before the Soviet Union but outlived the Cold War, the War on Terror and - almost - Covid-19.

The world that Philip was born into was a far more violent and dangerous place than ours. In the year he was born, Irish rebels were still fighting Black and Tans; over the course of 12 months the Spanish and Japanese prime ministers were assassinated, there was a coup in Portugal and race riots in the United States. Germany was rocked by violence from the far-Left and far-Right, while in Italy a brutal new political movement, the Fascists, secured 30 seats in parliament, led by a trashy journalist called Benito Mussolini.

The worst violence, however, took place in Greece and Turkey. Following the defeat of the Ottoman Empire, what remained of Turkey was marked for permanent enfeeblement by the Allies. But much to everyone’s surprise the country’s force were roused by the brilliant officer Mustafa Kemal, who led the Turks to victory. Constantinople was lost to Christendom for good and thousands of years of Hellenic culture was put to the flames in Smyrna.

The Greek royal family, north German imports shipped in during the 19th century, bore much of the popular anger for this disaster. King Constantine fled to Italy, and his brother Andrew was arrested and only escaped execution through the intervention of his relative Britain’s George V. Andrew’s wife Alice, their four daughters and infant son Philip fled to France, completely impoverished but with the one possession that ensures that aristocrats are never truly poor: connections.

Philip had a traumatic childhood. He was forged by the turmoil of his first decade and then moulded by his schooling. His early years were spent wandering, as his place of birth ejected him, his family disintegrated and he moved from country to country, none of them ever his own. When he was just a year old, he and his family were scooped up by a British destroyer from his home on the Greek island of Corfu after his father had been condemned to death. They were deposited in Italy. One of Philip's first international journeys was spent crawling around on the floor of the train from an Italian port city, "the grubby child on the desolate train pulling out of the Brindisi night," as his older sister Sophia later described it.

In Paris, he lived in a house borrowed from a relative; but it was not destined to become a home. In just one year, while he was at boarding school in Britain, the mental health of his mother, Princess Alice, deteriorated and she went into an asylum; his father, Prince Andrew, went off to Monte Carlo to live with his mistress. "I don't think anybody thinks I had a father," he once said. Andrew would die during the war. Philip went to Monte Carlo to pick up his father's possessions after the Germans had been driven from France; there was almost nothing left, just a couple of clothes brushes and some cuff-links.

Philip’s four sisters were all much older, and were soon all married to German aristocrats (the youngest would soon die in an aeroplane crash, along with her husband and children). His sisters became ever more embroiled in the German regime. In Scotland going to Gordonstoun boarding school, Philip went the opposite direction, becoming ever more British. Following the death of his sister Cecilie in a plane crash in 1937, the gulf widened. As the clouds of conflict gathered, the family simply disintegrated. With a flash of the flinty stoicism that many would later interpret, with no little justification, as self-reliance to the point of dispassion, the prince explained: “It’s simply what happened. The family broke up… I just had to get on with it. You do. One does.”

In the space of 10 years he had gone from a prince of Greece to a wandering, homeless, and virtually penniless boy with no-one to care for him. He got through it by making a joke of everything, and by being practical.

By the time he went to Gordonstoun, a private boarding school on the north coast of Scotland, Philip was tough, independent and able to fend for himself; he'd had to be. Gordonstoun would channel those traits into the school's distinct philosophy of community service, teamwork, responsibility and respect for the individual. And it sparked one of the great passions of Philip's life - his love of the sea. It was Gordonstoun that nurtured that love through the maturation of his character.

Philip adored the school as much as his son Charles would despise it. Not just because the stress it put on physical as well as mental excellence - he was a great sportsman. But because of its ethos, laid down by its founder Kurt Hahn, a Jewish exile from Nazi Germany.

Hahn first met Philip as a boy in Nazi Germany. Through a connection via one of his sister’s husbands, Philip, the poor, lonely boy was first sent off to a new school - in Nazi Germany. Which was as fun as can be imagined. Schloss Salem had been co-founded by stern educator called Kurt Hahn, a tough, discipline-obsessed conservative nationalist who saw civilisation in inexorable decline. But by this stage Hahn, persecuted for being Jewish in Nazi Germany, had fled to Britain, and Philip did not spend long at the school either, where pressure from the authorities was already making things difficult for the teachers. Philip laughed at the Nazis at first, because their salute was the same gesture the boys at his previous school had to make when they wanted to go to the toilet, but within a year he was back in England, a refugee once again.

Philip happily attended Hahn’s new school, Gordonstoun, which the strict disciplinarian had set up in the Scottish Highlands. Inspired by Ancient Sparta, the boys (and then later girls) had to run around barefoot and endure cold showers, even in winter, the whole aim of which was to drive away the inevitable civilisational decay Hahn saw all around him. To 21st century ears it sounds like hell on earth, yet Philip enjoyed it, illustrating just what a totally alien world he came from.

That ethos became a significant, perhaps the significant, part of the way that Philip believed life should be lived. It shines through the speeches he gave later in his life. "The essence of freedom," he would say in Ghana in 1958, "is discipline and self-control." The comforts of the post-war era, he told the British Schools Exploring Society a year earlier, may be important "but it is much more important that the human spirit should not be stifled by easy living". And two years before that, he spoke to the boys of Ipswich School of the moral as well as material imperatives of life, with the "importance of the individual" as the "guiding principle of our society".

It was at Gordonstoun one of the great contradictions of Philip's fascinating life was born. The importance of the individual was what in Kurt Hahn's eyes differentiated Britain and liberal democracies from the kind of totalitarian dictatorship that he had fled. Philip put that centrality of the individual, and individual agency - the ability we have as humans to make our own moral and ethical decisions - at the heart of his philosophy.

At Dartmouth Naval College in 1939, the two great passions of his life would collide. He had learned to sail at Gordonstoun; he would learn to lead at Dartmouth. And his driving desire to achieve, and to win, would shine through. Despite entering the college far later than most other cadets, he would graduate top of his class in 1940. In further training at Portsmouth, he gained the top grade in four out of five sections of the exam. He became one of the youngest first lieutenants in the Royal Navy.

The navy ran deep in his family. His maternal grandfather had been the First Sea Lord, the commander of the Royal Navy; his uncle, "Dickie" Mountbatten, had command of a destroyer while Philip was in training. In war, he showed not only bravery but guile. It was his natural milieu. "Prince Philip", wrote Gordonstoun headmaster Kurt Hahn admiringly, "will make his mark in any profession where he will have to prove himself in a trial of strength".

2. Prince Philip and the modernisation of the monarchy

In his own words, the process of defining what it meant to be a royal consort was one of “trial and error.” Speaking with BBC One’s Fiona Bruce in 2011, Philip explained, “There was no precedent. If I asked somebody, 'What do you expect me to do?' they all looked blank. They had no bloody idea, nobody had much idea.” So he forged for himself a role as a moderniser of the monarchy.

He could not have had much idea back in 1939. Back then in Dartmouth in 1939, as war became ever more certain, the navy was his destiny. He had fallen in love with the sea itself. "It is an extraordinary master or mistress," he would say later, "it has such extraordinary moods." But a rival to the sea would come.

When King George VI toured Dartmouth Naval College, accompanied by Philip's uncle, he brought with him his daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Philip was asked to look after her. He showed off to her, vaulting the nets of the tennis court in the grounds of the college. He was confident, outgoing, strikingly handsome, of royal blood if without a throne. She was beautiful, a little sheltered, a little serious, and very smitten by Philip.

Did he know then that this was a collision of two great passions? That he could not have the sea and the beautiful young woman? For a time after their wedding in 1948, he did have both. As young newlyweds in Malta, he had what he so prized - command of a ship - and they had two idyllic years together. But the illness and then early death of King George VI brought it all to an end.

He knew what it meant, the moment he was told. Up in a lodge in Kenya, touring Africa, with Princess Elizabeth in place of the King, Philip was told first of the monarch's death in February 1952. He looked, said his equerry Mike Parker, "as if a ton of bricks had fallen on him". For some time he sat, slumped in a chair, a newspaper covering his head and chest. His princess had become the Queen. His world had changed irrevocably.

While the late Princess Diana was later to famously claim that there were “three people” in her marriage - herself, Prince Charles and Camilla - there were at least 55 million in Philip and Elizabeth’s. As Elizabeth dedicated her life to her people at Westminster Abbey at the Coronation on June 2, 1953, it sparked something of an existential crisis in Philip. Many people even after his death have never really understood this pivotal moment in Philip’s life. All his dreams of being a naval officer and a life at sea as well as being the primary provider and partner in his marriage were now sacrificed on the altar of duty and love.

With his career was now over, and he was now destined to become the spare part. Philip, very reasonably, asked that his future children and indeed his family be known by his name, Mountbatten. In effect he was asking to change the royal family’s name from the House of Windsor to the House of Mountbatten. But when Prime Minister Winston Churchill got wind of it as well as the more politically agile courtiers behind the Queen, a prolonged battle of wits ensued, and it was one Philip ultimately lost. It was only in 1957 that he accepted the title of “Prince.”

Even though he had almost lost everything dear to him and his role now undefined, he didn’t throw himself a pity party. He just got on with it. Philip tried to forge his own distinct role as second fiddle to the woman who had come to represent Great Britain. He designated himself the First Officer of the Good Ship Windsor. He set about dusting off some of the cobwebs off the throne and letting some daylight unto the workings of the monarchy by advocating reasonable amount of modernisation of the monarchy.

He had ideas about modernising the royal family that might be called “improving optics” today. But in his heart of hearts he didn’t want the monarchy to become a stuffy museum piece. He envisaged a less stuffy and more popular monarchy, relevant to the lives of ordinary people. Progress was always going to be incremental as he had sturdy opposition from the old guard who wanted to keep everything as it was, but nevertheless his stubborn energy resulted in significant changes.

When a commission chaired by Prince Philip proposed broadcasting the 1953 investiture ceremony that formally named Elizabeth II as queen on live television, Prime Minister Winston Churchill reacted with outright horror, declaring, “It would be unfitting that the whole ceremony should be presented as if it were a theatrical performance.” Though the queen had initially voiced similar concerns, she eventually came around to the idea, allowing the broadcast of all but one segment of the coronation. Ultimately, according to the BBC, more than 20 million people tuned in to the televised ceremony - a credit to the foresight of Philip.

Elizabeth’s coronation marked a watershed moment for a monarchy that has, historically, been very hands off, old-fashioned and slightly invisible. Over the following years, the royals continued to embrace television as a way of connecting with the British people: In 1957, the queen delivered her annual Christmas address during a live broadcast. Again, this was Philip’s doing when he cajoled the Queen to televise her message live. He even helped her in how to use the teleprompter to get over her nerves and be herself on screen.

Four years later, in 1961, Philip became the first family member to sit for a television interview. It is hard for us to imagine now but back then it was huge. For many it was a significant step in modernising the monarchy.

Though not everything went to plan. Toward the end of the decade, the Windsors even invited cameras into their home. A 1969 BBC fly-on-the-wall documentary, instigated by Philip to show life behind the scenes, turned into an unmitigated disaster: “The Windsors” revealed the royals to be a fairly normal, if very rich, British upper-class family who liked barbecues, ice cream, watching television and bickering. The mystery of royalty took a hit below the waterline from their own torpedo, a self-inflicted wound from which they took a long time to recover. Shown once, the documentary was never aired again. But it had an irreversible effect, and not just by revealing the royals to be ordinary. By allowing the cameras in, Philip opened the lid to the prying eyes of the paparazzi who could legitimately argue that since the Royals themselves had sanctioned exposure, anything went. From then on, minor members of the House of Windsor were picked off by the press, like helpless tethered animals on a hunting safari.

Prince Philip also took steps to reorganise and renovate the royal estates in Sandringham and Balmoral such as intercoms, modern dish washers,  generally sought to make the royal household and the monarchy less stuffy, not to have so much formality everywhere.

Philip helped modernised the monarchy in other ways to acknowledge that the monarchy could be responsive to changes in society. It was Prince Philip - much to the chagrin of the haughty Princess Margaret and other stuffy old courtiers - who persuaded the Queen to host informal lunches and garden parties designed to engage a broader swath of the British public. Conversely, Prince Philip heartily encouraged the Queen (she was all for it apparently but was still finding her feet as a new monarch) to end the traditional practice of presenting debutantes from aristocratic backgrounds at court in 1952. For Philip and others it felt antiquated and out of touch with society. I know in speaking to my grandmother and others in her generation the decision was received with disbelief at how this foreign penniless upstart could come and stomp on the dreams of mothers left to clutch their pearls at the prospect there would be no shop window for their daughter to attract a suitable gentleman for marriage. One of my great aunts was over the moon happy that she never would have to go through what she saw as a very silly ceremony because she preferred her muddy wellies to high heels. 

A former senior member of the royal household, who spent several years working as one of Prince Philip’s aides, and an old family friend, once told us around a family dinner table that the Duke of Edinburgh was undoubtedly given a sense of permanence by his marriage into the Royal Family that was missing from earlier years. But the royal aide would hastily add that Prince Philip, of course, would never see it that way.

Prince Philip’s attitude was to never brood on things or seek excuses. And he did indeed get on with the job in his own way  - there should be no doubt that when it came to building and strengthening the Royal Family it was a partnership of equals with the Queen. Indeed contrary to Netflix’s hugely popular series ‘The Crown’ and its depiction of the royal marriage with Philip’s resentment at playing second fiddle, the prince recognised that his “first duty was to serve the Queen in the best way I could,” as he told ITV in 2011. Though this role was somewhat ill-suited to his dynamic, driven, and outspoken temperament, Philip performed it with utter devotion.

3. Prince Philip’s legacy

One could argue rightly that modernising the monarchy was his lasting legacy achievement. But he also tried to modernise a spent and exhausted Britain as it emerged from a ruinous war. When peace came, and with it eventual economic recovery, Philip would throw himself into the construction of a better Britain, urging the country to adopt scientific methods, embracing the ideas of industrial design, planning, education and training. A decade before Harold Wilson talked of the "white heat of the technological revolution", Philip was urging modernity on the nation in speeches and interviews. He was on top of his reading of the latest scientific breakthroughs and well read in break out innovations.

This interest in modernisation was only matched by his love for nature. As the country and the world became richer and consumed ever more, Philip warned of the impact on the environment, well before it was even vaguely fashionable. As president of the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) in the UK for more than 20 years from 1961, he was one of the first high-profile advocates of the cause of conservation and biological diversity at a time when it was considered the preserve of an eccentric few.

For a generation of school children in Britain and the Commonwealth though, his most lasting legacy and achievement will be the Duke of Edinburgh Awards (DofE). He set up the Duke of Edinburgh award, a scheme aimed at getting young people out into nature in search of adventure or be of service to their communities. It was a scheme that could match the legacy of Baden Powell’s scouts movement. 

When Prince Philip first outlined his idea of a scheme to harness the values of his education at Gordonstoun by bringing character-building outdoor pursuits to the many rather than the fee-paying few, he received short shrift from the government of the day. The then minister of education, Sir David Eccles responded to the Duke’s proposal by saying: “I hear you’re trying to invent something like the Hitler Youth.” Undeterred he pushed on until it came to fruition.

I’m so glad that he did. I remember how proud I was for getting my DofE Awards while I was at boarding school. With the support of great mentors I managed to achieve my goals: collecting second-hand English books for a literacy programme for orphaned street children in Delhi, India with a close Indian school friend and her family; and completing a 350 mile hike following St. Olav’s Pilgrimmage Trail from Selånger, on the east coast of Sweden, and ending at Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim, on the west coast of Norway.

It continues to be an enduring legacy.  Since its launch in 1956, the Duke of Edinburgh awards have been bestowed upon some 2.5 million youngsters in Britain and some eight million worldwide. For a man who once referred to himself as a “Greek princeling of no consequence”, his pioneering tutelage of these two organisations (alongside some 778 other organisations of which he was either president or a patron) would be sufficient legacy for most.

4. Prince Philip’s character

It may surprise some but what I liked most about Prince Philip was the very thing that helped him achieve so much and leave a lasting legacy: his character.

It is unhelpful to the caricature of Prince Philip as an unwavering but pugnacious consort whose chief talent was a dizzying facility in off-colour one-liners that he was widely read and probably the cleverest member of his family.

His private library at Windsor consists of 11,000 tomes, among them 200 volumes of poetry. He was a fan of Jung, TS Eliot, Shakespeare and the cookery writer Elizabeth David. As well as a lifelong fascination with science, technology and sport, he spoke fairly fluent French, painted and wrote a well received book on birds. It’s maddening to think how many underestimated his genuine intellect and how cultured he was behind the crusty exterior.

He didn’t have an entourage to fawn around him. He was the first to own a computer at Buckingham Palace. He answered his own phone and wrote and responded to his own correspondence. By force of character he fought the old guard courtiers at every turn to modernise the monarchy  against their stubborn resistance.

Prince Philip was never given to self-analysis or reflection on the past. Various television interviewers tried without success to coerce him in to commenting on his legacy.But once when his guard was down he asked on the occasion of his 90th birthday what he was more proud of, he replied with characteristic bluntness: “I couldn’t care less. Who cares what I think about it, I mean it’s ridiculous.”

All of which neatly raises the profound aversion to fuss and the proclivity for tetchiness often expressed in withering put-downs that, for better or worse, will be the reflex memory for many of the Duke of Edinburgh. If character is a two edged sword so what of his gaffes? 

There is no doubt his cult status partly owed to his so-called legendary gaffes, of which there are enough to fill a book (indeed there is a book). But he was no racist. None of the Commonwealth people or foreign heads of state ever said this about him. Only leftist republicans with too much Twitter time on their hands screamed such a ridiculous accusation. They’re just overly sensitive snowflakes and being devoid of any humour they’re easily triggered.

There was the time that Philip accepted a gift from a local in Kenya, telling her she was a kind woman, and then adding: “You are a woman, aren’t you?” Or the occasion he remarked “You managed not to get eaten, then?” to a student trekking in Papua New Guinea. Then there was his World Wildlife Fund speech in 1986, when he said: “If it has got four legs and it is not a chair, if it has got two wings and it flies but is not an aeroplane, and if it swims and it is not a submarine, the Cantonese will eat it.” Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Philip quickly developed a reputation for what he once defined, to the General Dental Council, as “dentopedology – the science of opening your mouth and putting your foot in it”. Clearly he could laugh at himself as he often did as an ice breaker to put others at ease.

His remarking to the president of Nigeria, who was wearing national dress, “You look like you’re ready for bed”, or advising British students in China not to stay too long or they would end up with “slitty eyes”, is probably best written off as ill-judged humour. Telling a photographer to “just take the fucking picture” or declaring “this thing open, whatever it is”, were expressions of exasperation or weariness with which anyone might sympathise.

Above all, he was also capable of genuine if earthy wit, saying of his horse-loving daughter Princess Anne: “If it doesn’t fart or eat hay she isn’t interested.” Many people might have thought it but few dared say it. If Prince Philip’s famous gaffes provoked as much amusement as anger, it was precisely because they seem to give voice to the bewilderment and pent-up frustrations with which many people viewed the ever-changing modern world.

A former royal protection officer recounts how while on night duty guarding a visiting Queen and consort, he engaged in conversation with colleagues on a passing patrol. It was 2am and the officer had understood the royal couple to be staying elsewhere in the building until a window above his head was abruptly slammed open and an irate Prince Philip stuck his head out of the window to shout: “Would you fuck off!” Without another word, he then shut the window.

The Duke at least recognised from an early age that he was possessed of an abruptness that could all too easily cross the line from the refreshingly salty to crass effrontery.

One of his most perceptive biographers, Philip Eade, recounted how at the age of 21 the prince wrote a letter to a relation whose son had recently been killed in combat. He wrote: “I know you will never think much of me. I am rude and unmannerly and I say things out of turn which I realise afterwards must have hurt someone. Then I am filled with remorse and I try to put matters right.”

In the case of the royal protection officer, the Duke turned up in the room used by the police officers when off duty and said: “Terribly sorry about last night, wasn’t quite feeling myself.”

Aides have also ventured to explain away some of their employer’s more outlandish remarks - from asking Cayman islanders “You are descended from pirates aren’t you?” to enquiring of a female fashion writer if she was wearing mink knickers - as the price of his instinctive desire to prick the pomposity of his presence with a quip to put others at ease.

Indeed many people forget that his ‘gaffes’ were more typical of the clubbish humour of the British officer class – which of course would be less appreciated, sometimes even offensive, to other ears. It’s why he could relate so well to veterans who enjoyed his bonhomie company immensely.

But behind the irascibility, some have argued there also lay a darker nature, unpleasantly distilled in his flinty attitude to his eldest son. One anecdote tells of how, in the aftermath of the murder of the Duke’s uncle and surrogate father, Lord Mountbatten,  Philip lectured his son, who was also extremely fond of his “honorary grandfather”, that he was not to succumb to self-pity. Charles left the room in tears and when his father was asked why he had spoken to his son with so little compassion, the Duke replied: “Because if there’s any crying to be done I want it to happen within this house, in front of his family, not in public. He must be toughened up, right now.”

But here I would say that Prince Philip’s intentions were almost always sincere and in no way cruel. He has always tried to protect his family - even from their own worst selves or from those outside the family ‘firm’ who may not have their best interest at heart.

In 1937, a 16-year-old Prince Philip had walked behind his elder sister Cecile’s coffin after she was killed in a plane crash while heavily pregnant. The remains of newly-born infant found in the wreckage suggested the aircraft had perished as the pilot sought to make an emergency landing in fog as the mother entered childbirth. It was an excruciating taste of tragedy which would one day manifest itself in a very princely form of kindness that was deep down that defined Philip’s character.

When about 60 years later Prime Minister Tony Blair’s spin doctors in Downing Street tried to strong arm the Queen and the royal household over the the arrangements for the late Prince Diana’s funeral, it was Philip who stepped in front to protect his family. The Prime Minister and his media savvy spin doctors wanted the two young princes, William and Harry, to walk behind the coffin.

The infamous exchange was on the phone during a conference call between London and Balmoral, and the emotional Philip was reportedly backed by the Queen. The call was witnessed by Anji Hunter, who worked for Mr Blair. She said how surprised she was to hear Prince Philip’s emotion. ‘It’s about the boys,” he cried, “They’ve lost their mother”. Hunter thought to herself, “My God, there’s a bit of suffering going on up there”.’

Sky TV political commentator Adam Boulton (Anji Hunter’s husband) would write in his book Tony’s Ten Years: ‘The Queen relished the moment when Philip bellowed over the speakerphone from Balmoral, “Fuck off. We are talking about two boys who have just lost their mother”. Boulton goes on to say that Philip: ‘…was trying to remind everyone that human feelings were involved. No 10 were trying to help the Royals present things in the best way, but may have seemed insensitive.’

In the end the politicians almost didn’t get their way. Prince Philip stepped in to counsel his grandson, Prince William, after he had expressed a reluctance to follow his mother’s coffin after her death in Paris. Philip told the grieving child: “If you don’t walk, I think you’ll regret it later. If I walk, will you walk with me?”

It’s no wonder he was sought as a counsellor by other senior royals and especially close to his grandchildren, for whom he was a firm favourite. His relationship with Harry was said to have become strained, however, following the younger Prince’s decision to reject his royal inheritance for a life away from the public eye in America with his new American wife, Meghan Markle. For Prince Philip I am quite sure it went against all the elder Prince had lived his life by - self-sacrifice for the greater cause of royalty.

This is the key to Philip’s character and in understanding the man. The ingrained habits of a lifetime of duty and service in one form or another were never far away.

In conclusion then....

After more time passes I am sure historians will make a richer reassessment of Prince Philip’s life and legacy. Because Prince Philip was an extraordinary man who lived an extraordinary life; a life intimately connected with the sweeping changes of our turbulent 20th Century, a life of fascinating contrast and contradiction, of service and some degree of solitude. A complex, clever, eternally restless man that not even the suffocating protocols of royalty and tradition could bind him.

Although he fully accepted the limitations of public royal service, he did not see this as any reason for passive self-abnegation, but actively, if ironically, identified with his potentially undignified role. It is this bold and humorous embrace of fated restriction which many now find irksome: one is no longer supposed to mix public performance with private self-expression in quite this manner.

Yet such a mix is authentically Socratic: the proof that the doing of one’s duty can also be the way of self-fulfilment. The Duke’s sacrifice of career to romance and ceremonial office is all the more impressive for his not hiding some annoyance. The combination of his restless temperament and his deeply felt devotion to duty found fruitful expression; for instance, in the work of Saint George’s House Windsor - a centre and retreat that he created with Revd. Robin Woods - in exploring religious faith, philosophy, and contemporary issues.

Above all he developed a way to be male that was both traditional and modern. He served one woman with chivalric devotion as his main task in life while fulfilling his public engagements in a bold and active spirit. He eventually embraced the opportunity to read and contemplate more. And yet, he remained loyal to the imperatives of his mentor Kurt Hahn in seeking to combine imagination with action and religious devotion with practical involvement.

Prince Philip took more pride in the roles he had accidentally inherited than in the personal gifts which he was never able fully to develop. He put companionship before self-realisation and acceptance of a sacred symbolic destiny before the mere influencing of events. In all these respects he implicitly rebuked our prevailing meritocracy which over-values officially accredited attainment, and our prevailing narcissism which valorises the assertion of discrete identities.

Prince Philip was Britain’s longest-serving consort. He was steadfast, duty driven, and a necessary adjunct to the continuity and stability of the Queen and the monarchy. Of all the institutions that have lost the faith of the British public in this period - the Church, Parliament, the media, the police - the Monarchy itself has surprisingly done better than most at surviving, curiously well-adapted to a period of societal change and moral anarchy. The House of Hanover and later Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (changed to Windsor), since their arrival in this country in 1714, have been noted above all for their ability to adapt. And just as they survived the Victorian age by transforming themselves into the bourgeoise, domestic ideal, so they have survived the new Elizabethan era (Harry-Meghan saga is just a passing blip like the Edward-Wallis Simpson saga of the 1930s).

There was once a time when the Royal’s German blood was a punchline for crude and xenophobic satirists. Now it is the royals who are deeply British while the country itself is increasingly cosmopolitan and globalised. British society has seen a greater demographic change than the preceding four or five thousand years combined, the second Elizabethan age has been characterised more than anything by a transformational movement of people. Prince Philip, the Greek-born, Danish-German persecuted and destitute wanderer who came to become one of the Greatest Britons of the past century, perhaps epitomised that era better than anyone else. And he got through it by making a joke of everything, and by being practical.

I hope I don’t exaggerate when I say that in our troubled times over identity, and our place and purpose in the world, we need to heed his selfless example more than ever.

As Heraclitus wisely said,  Ήθος ανθρώπω δαίμων (Character is destiny.)

RIP Prince Philip. You were my prince. God damn you, I miss you already.

Thanks for your question.

[embyrinitalics]

The Willing "Waste" of Art

In its opening chapters, The Gift explores the concept of first-fruit rituals in various cultures. One of them is a Maori hunting ritual:

The Maori have a word, hau, which translates "spirit," particularly the spirit of the gift and the spirit of the forest which gives food. In these tribes, when hunters return from the forest with birds they have killed, they give a portion of the kill to the priests, who, in turn, cook the birds at a sacred fire. The priests eat a few of them and then prepare a sort of talisman, the mauri, which is the physical embodiment of the forest hau. This mauri is a gift the priests give back to the forest, where, as a Maori sage once explained to an Englishman, it "causes the birds to be abundant..., that they may be slain and taken by man."

This ceremony that the priests perform is called whangai hau, which means "nourishing hau." The talisman feeds the spirit, which is then empowered to provide more birds, and the cycle goes on.

In one sense, we all know the mauri isn't actually what causes the birds to be abundant. But in another sense it is: without this ceremony, the hunters might begin to think of the forest as a place to turn a profit and begin to overtax and exploit their natural resources. Whangai hau serves as a reminder of their relationship with nature and engenders feelings of gratitude. "The forest's abundance is in fact a consequence of man's treating its wealth as a gift."

Other examples include the first-fruit rituals of the Mosaic Law (wherein firstborn animals were given to the priests to be sacrificed), and the Salmon Welcoming rituals of the North Pacific tribes (the first salmon is celebrated, divided for all to eat, and then its bones returned to the water intact, lest the fish be offended and not return the following year). The main elements of these ceremonies are alike—part of the received gift is eaten, and part is returned, and "the objects of the ritual remain plentiful because they are treated as gifts."

160 pages later, The Gift circles back around to apply these lessons to the artist:

Just as treating nature's bounty as a gift ensures the fertility of nature, so to treat the products of the imagination as gifts ensures the fertility of the imagination... The salmon are not subject to the will of the Indians; the imagination is not subject to the will of the artist.

That sounds poetic on paper. But how does one practically do that, and, more to the point, does it work?

The fruit of the creative spirit is the work of art itself, and if there is a first-fruits ritual for artists, it must be the willing "waste" of art (in which one is happy to labor all day with no hope of production, nothing to sell, nothing to show off, just fish thrown back into the sea as soon as they are caught)... It is the artistic equivalent of the Maori ceremony. For a creative artist, "feeding the spirit" is as much a matter of attitude or intent as it is of any specific action; the attitude is, at base, the kind of humility that prevents the artist from drawing the essence of his creation into the personal ego... The artist who is nourishing hau is not self-aggrandizing, self-assertive, or self-conscious, he is, rather, self-squandering, self-abnegating, self-forgetful... "a carefree letting go of oneself".

I thought I ought to give that a try. So I sat down with a notebook and a pen, determined to write down whatever felt like coming out, and then burn the page (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Let me start off by saying that this was literally terrifying. My heart raced. Writing is important to me, and I've spent the last eight(ish) months drowning in the worst creative slump of my life. I managed to put out a chapter of a story (which was mostly finished before the slump started), but that was more like breaching the surface and gasping for air before getting shoved back down than it was actually making my way to dry land.

So to sit down and waste what tiny bit of creative energy I had on writing something that I was going to burn? Yikes. But I decided to be brave and try it anyway.

(The Gift assured me that "we can understand what seems at first to be a paradox of gift exchange: when the gift is used, it is not used up. Quite the opposite, in fact: the gift that is not used will be lost, while the one that is passed along remains abundant." But if I believed it—and I seemed to think I did, with how many times I underlined it—I hadn't quite internalized the truth of it yet.)

The first word that comes to mind to describe the experience is Liberating? But I think that doesn't really capture it. It was less about freedom and more about freeness. I felt glowy. I dipped down into emotional undercurrents I haven't touched in a while and just let them take me downriver. I made it as chewy as I wanted. And I actually made myself cry with some of what I put down. I didn't worry about how to start it (I'm just going to burn it anyway); I didn't worry about the imagery choices making sense (I'm just going to burn it anyway); I didn't worry about trying to be profound (I'm just going to burn it anyway).

In the end I didn't actually show it to no one. I thought my mom would really like it so I sent it to her. I let my husband read it. But I definitely wrote with the attitude and intention of showing it to no one. A few days later I did it again, with similar results.

I won't overstate the power of this exercise. The creative forces of the universe have not mystically aligned so that I suddenly have access to great imaginative wellsprings that were hitherto inaccessible in response to my small first-fruit gift. But I am able to sit down and work on my pieces without terror. I'm no longer paralyzed with fear of writing wastefully.

Which, at this point, honestly does feel a bit mystical.

[realcube]

hq!! boys with a short s/o

navi | masterlist | taglist

thanks to anon for this cute request

characters:  kenma, noya, bokuto, & oikawa

trigger warning: swearing, sexual references, 

kenma kuzome 

♡ bc you’re smol you can slip into his lap while he plays on his switch and since he can just peer over your shoulder, he lets you 

♡ also bc you are so - in his own words - compact..he kinda goes a bit rough on you bc he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes

♡ like he comes back from practise - having just bet up lev who’s like double his height, then pretends as though he’s the gentlest, most cuddly guy alive

♡ for instance, if you sit on his lap while he’s doing something important, he’ll push you off but bc he is quite strong and you’re quite small, you literally go flying across the room

♡ he also like the fact that he can place his chin on top of your head while hunched over 

♡ bc his posture is horrible which means that most ppl are up to his nose when he’s standing comfortably (and by comfortably i mean when his back is lookin like the letter c)

♡ but not you though bb

♡ he can rest his chin on your head WHILE messing up his back so thanks 💞

♡ also this is kinda unrelated but he probably enjoys seeing you cosplay as some of his favourite characters that are around your height

♡ idk he just seems like that sorta guy lol

♡ probably likes it when y’all get dirty in cosplay too yk

♡ and he constantly compares you to anime characters/ video game characters then makes comments accordingly lol

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

upon feeling kenma’s eyes momentarily shift from his nintendo switch onto you, your immediate response was to meet his gaze, shooting him a brief smile which quickly fell into frown upon hearing his following statement, “you’re around the same height as meliodas from seven deadly sins.”

you blinked rapidly, about to shrug him off and go back to whatever you were doing under you heard a “disgusting.” slip from his lips..so pounced on him. 

“KENMA! YOU CAN’T JUST CALL ME DISGUSTING BECAUSE I’M A SIMILAR HEIGHT TO AN ANIME CHARACTER YOU DON’T LIKE! DON’T  YOU HAVE AN--” to which kenma will just laugh and pretend like he’s trying to pry you off him when he’s actually really enjoying the feeling of you on top of him.

yū nishinoya

♡ he is the short king™

♡ so he’s honestly so happy that not only does he get to be in the presence of his soulmate, but you’re also shorter than him 😍

♡ and i think having a shorter s/o would really help him with his body image 

♡ sorry to get serious on y’all so quick but i kinda think noya is secretly VERY insecure 

♡ he just has a ‘fake it till you make it’ sort of attitude in regards to his confidence

♡  but having a shorter s/o - especially if you’re really powerful, strong, confident or outspoken - would really give him an ego boost bc not only is he like ‘yep! that’s my star!’ but also everything you do is just so impressive to him

♡ also since you’re around the same height as him, sometimes he forgets that he can’t just jump on you and expect for you to hold his weight like he does with asahi, tanaka, tsukishima etc 

♡ so now you’re always on hyperalert when you pick him up from practise just in case he tackles you to the ground again

♡ it’s happened multiple times even when you were paying close attention though so i’d suggest just wearing a helmet next itme

♡ YJUHGFF he’s definitely the sort of guy to hype you up to his friends after you do the bare minimum

♡ and he ALWAYS mentions your height unless you tell him to stop 

♡ (he just wants his friends to know that just bc they are vertically gifted, they are no better than you or him >:(( keep em humble, yk? ) 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“yep! they’re getting their photo taken at this professional modelling company thingy with all those cool, chunky camera and the bright lights! they’re basically a model- and a few inches smaller than me so, perhaps short is the new sexy.” noya boasted with a casual shrug, feeding off of the amazing looks he was getting from hinata, tanaka and yamaguchi. 

upon noticing that yamaguchi was falling for nishinoya’s exaggerations, tsukishima chimed in, “short is definitely not the new sexy.” and before nishinoya could retort, tsukki hummed, “anyway, model, huh? what brand are they modelling for?”

noya’s lips curled into a bright smile and he clicked his tongue, almost to say ‘glad you asked’, before declaring proudly, “their passport!”

kōtarō bokuto

♡ another one that doesn’t know his own strength 

♡ especially around you 

♡ like he squeezes you SO tight when hugging that you basically suffocate

♡ and his grip on your hand is always unreasonably strong too so never let him hold your dominant hand or else you won’t be able to hold a pencil for another week

♡ and sometimes he pinches your cheek when he thinks you look especially babey and jesus christ he could leave a bruise

♡ god forbid you’re watching him practise and he makes a killer spike then he turns to look at you with starry eyes--

♡ ...

♡ RUN 🏃‍♂️💨

♡ mans will chase you around the whole gym to pick you up and twirl you to celebrate his spike 

♡ the problem occurs when he holds you so close to him that you suffocate from his reek of BO

♡ he spins so fast that it makes you feel extremely sick and dizzy

♡ ALSO let’s not forget that one time he accidently let go of you a few seconds to early and you went fucking flying across the gym and landed on onaga’s water bottle 

♡ not only did you have to awkwardly hobble to the bathroom with soaking wet leggings so you could change into your spare pair, you also felt obliged to buy onaga a new water bottle 

♡ if you tell him to be gentler plz do it nicely or else he will be sad :((

♡ yeah he treats you like you’re his 7″0, ripped, basketball player s/o but you’re not 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

why were you here? why did you think this was a good idea to say yes to? oh, yeah, it because he gave those adorable damn puppy eyes that you are physically incapable of saying no to. on the bright side, perhaps he can use those puppy eyes to get you a free hearse driver for your funeral - which was sure to be soon.

through, your funeral planning was cut sort by bokuto chirping, “are you ready, babe?!” 

you sighed, arms outstretched as he stood with his back facing you, ready to trust fall onto you once you gave the ‘ok’. or so you thought. 

“yeah, bo. go o--” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you felt bokuto’s muscular back suddenly weigh down on your arm. you tried to hold him up, - you really did - but both the surprise of it and his weight was enough to make you come crashing down with him. 

“(y/n)! you had one job!”

tōru oikawa

♡ you’re his baby

♡ or at least, he treats you like one sometimes

♡ he says he treats you like a prince(ss) but everyone knows that he acts like you’re his first born child

♡ bc he literally carries you everywhere

♡ taking a brisk stroll on the beach? oikawa will force you to get on his back and use the excuse that he doesn’t want your clothes to get dirty 

♡ you’re in the mall and you even suggest that your feet are sore/ you’re tired? he’ll carry you bridal style anywhere you want to go - literally does not care if people are giving him weird looks 

♡ drunk? he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you home 

♡ just chilling on the couch? he’ll approach you, scoop you up into his arms and walk around the house 

♡ it annoys you sometimes but it can really come in handy other times

♡ like for instance, at a festival

♡ if you both get stuck at the back and you’re struggling to see the stage bc of all the literal giants looming in front of you, he’ll let you hop on his shoulders 🥺

♡ he probably teases you for it though lol

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“awh, can the small one not see the stage?”

you furrowed your brows, outstretching your arms to him - probably the first time you ever actually asked him to pick you up, so you prayed that he'd take you up on your first offer without you having to beg. “yeah, can you help?”

this oikawa you’re talking to; the petty king. so instead, he gave you some solemn advice before turning his attention back onto the performance, “try growing a few inches-- who am i kidding? a few feet.”

“rude.” you spat, fretfully looking around for a moment before coming to terms with the fact you’re not going to be able to see the performer, so you decided to just try vibe with the music instead.

“(y/n).” you heard oikawa call from beside you, so you turn your head to look at him then noticed that he was crouched on the ground, “what are you waiting for? get on.” 

[asexual-abomination]

Hi 🥺 I saw requests were open? Could you maybe do platonic Phantom Troupe with the reader having echolalia? If the troupe is too much, maybe just Chrollo and Feitan? Thank you in advance 🥺

Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it!

I know that echolalia and a lot of other symptoms show up differently in different people, so I had to base this on my own experience, and I have a tendency to echo literally anything, words, sounds, rhythms, anything.

I decided to have this take place in a scenario where reader copies each member individually!

Chrollo

Probably the one who has read up on any and all of your symptoms, since he considers it his responsibility to be educated on your needs

When, after you happened to be sat in a meeting with the Troupe, you began muttering to yourself, he wanted to see if you were alright

As he walked up to after, hoping to speak with you, he was surprised to see you repeating a seemingly innocuous phrase from somewhere in the middle of the meeting

Chrollo would recognize this as a stim, but he wouldn’t understand immediately why you would be stimming something he randomly said

He would be a bit thrown off when your explanation is very simple, telling him that it just sounded right, felt right in your brain

He wouldn’t tell a soul, but a little part of him was proud that you found his voice that nice to listen to that you’d imitate it for fun

He definitely doesn’t mind, and even encourages any stimming in general, since he can see that it makes you happy

Machi

While most of her medical training is in more physical things, after it was mentioned that you were autistic, she decided to go and top up her knowledge of neurodivergency.

At one point during a mission, she murmured to herself to remember a safe’s code, not realizing that she was within earshot of you

Several hours after the mission was over and everyone was celebrating the spoils of victory, she overheard you repeating the code to yourself over and over again

She expressed her confusion to you, reminding you that the mission was over and there was no need for the code anymore

When your response was to tell her that the code simply sounded nice, she would probably get confused for a moment

Machi doesn’t quite understand how some random string of numbers can ‘sound nice’ but she also knows that your brain functions differently from hers

I don’t see her making too big a deal out of it, but she’d actually make a sly comment about how much you listen to her

Other than that, she happy to let you stim as you please!

Phinks

Probably not educated at all about the intricacies of your stimming or any symptoms in general, but he'll never get upset with you, since he understands on some level that it's just how you are

I'd imagine that the way you'd echo from him miiight come from overhearing him death threatening a scared hostage

Definitely spooks him when he hears you mumbling the harshest and longest string of curses he's ever heard

Mostly because you're spitting the words with the exact same tone as he did, and he thinks that you're trying to threaten him

(He doesn't wanna mess with you 😆)

When he finally figures out that you're copying him, he jumps to the next conclusion that you're mocking him

"What? Am I not intimidating to you? I sure scared that scum back there!"

"What are you talking about?"

His face when you explain yourself to him is nothing short of flustered, and he begins profusely apologizing

He gets super caught up whenever he's accidentally ableist, since he wants you to feel safe around him

Once you've cleared up the situation, he actually takes joy in seeing you copy him, and if he gets the chance he'll want to teach you how to be more intimidating

Uvogin

Another case of not really knowing what stims are, but being respectful of them anyway

I mean, man is literally eight feet tall, he doesn't care about whatever weird things anyone else might do

He roars at the back of his throat once, and that's it

When he's walking past you after a mission, Uvo's almost shocked to hear you making a vague growling noise constantly

Since he likes to lean into his animal side a bit more than others, he'll jokingly ask if you're trying to intimidate him, much like Phinks

When you explain to him to you thought that his roar was fun enough to copy, he also takes an odd sense of pride in it

He's not normally a man for any kind of subtlety, but if you actually found his roars pleasing to listen to, he'll see if he can roar at a volume that won't immediately burst your eardrums without protection or distance

If you do a lot of vocal stimming in general, especially imitation of his roars, I can see him taking you out to some mountain or cave or whatever to practice your roar for some fun bonding

Nobunaga

Okay so we know that he spends plenty of time around Machi, so she's probably explained some of the main symptoms of your autism at some point when he asked

But when he sits next to you and hears you trying to imitate the sounds that his sword makes when he charges it with his Nen, he looks at you incredulously for a moment

You may not have even noticed that you were echoing at first, so you'll probably be confused when you see him looking at you

"Oh, sorry, your sword just sounds nice!"

*Cue even further confusion from him*

Completely doesn't get how a sword sounds nice, but kind of has this "You do you, kid" attitude about it

May or may not invite you to listen to his practice and then wait until afterwards to listen for your echoes because he finds it cute

Shizuku

Okay I'm gonna be honest, when Blinky first appeared in show and made that noise, I was taken and kept trying to make the same noise for hours whenever it appeared

"Shizuku, why did you summon Blinky? Is something wrong?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't summon them?"

"Oh that was me, sorry."

Definitely has a giggle about it when she finds that you enjoy echoing her Nen ability

Will summon Blinky whenever you want to 'have a chat' with them

Very openly thinks you're absolutely adorable with it, and it's one of the first things she'll do every time she gets to see you

Shalnark

Honestly, he says everything with such a happy, upbeat tone, anything he says can be copied for fun

His laugh is the best, so you're probably echoing that

He's probably not too shocked when he hears an attempt his own laugh coming from down the hallway, thinking someone's trying to play a prank on him

But he'll be a little confused when he finds you

When you reveal the truth of what you were doing, oh god, be prepared

"Aww, you like my voice that much??"

"You do a pretty good impression of me, must spend a lot of time listening, huh?"

He WILL NOT stop until he gets to see you blush, though if he does overstep and upset you, he'll tone it back down immediately

Might not change anything especially big with his usual way of talking, but will take a moment to appreciate his own voice whenever he catches you imitating him

Bonolenov

THE MUSIC!!

Okay I know that they're mainly used for battle and injuring people's ears, but he definitely has more calm songs that he plays for his friends

When you first hear it, the tunes are so enchanting that you will be humming or whistling it for weeks afterwards

He's sitting and relaxing when he hears you attempting to hum the tune of a sweet lullaby he had once played for the Troupe

It's probably not a perfect replication, since it takes a while to learn the songs he makes, but it makes his heart melt to think that you want to try your hand at his beloved music

When he overhears you, he jumps in to begin gushing about the song you found so lovely

Asking if you'd like to hear it again -  he'd certainly love to play it for you again!

He might seem really overexcited, but he's genuinely happy that he can bring you joy with his ability

Franklin

Took me a moment to think of something for him, but after a while of thinking:

He speaks slowly and calmly quite often, so I can imagine that he can sometimes say things in very rhythmic fashion, which will catch on very quick

You're walking away from a quick chat with him, when he hears you whispering under your breath

Normally wouldn't even make a note of it, but he wants to make sure you're okay

(Definitely isn't worried about you and wanting to keep you safe)

His reaction when you tell him that you liked the way that he said something is a mix between "Oh, that's nice" and "What are you on about"

Has probably the least amount of education on stimming, but also one of the most open to learning, since he wants to do what he can to keep those he cares about safe and happy

Will be a bit put off by the way you seem to copy him at first, but definitely doesn't mind after a while

Silently thanks you for making him take a moment to appreciate his own voice

Pakunoda

Sweetheart hums a meteor city anthem one day, and isn't really shocked when she comes upon you humming it yourself

Since she's looked into your mind with her ability, she knows the way that you like to echo certain sounds, and doesn't mind at all

If she's listening from around a corner or such, she will smile joyfully and quietly wait out of your sight

Unless you catch her in the act, she's actually quite happy to not let you know of presence while she enjoys the thought of you enjoying her culture

But, if you do catch her, she'll probably start gushing to you about the origin of whichever song you wanted to imitate

She wants you to feel happy, however you wish to pursue that, and will absolutely hype you up in any sort of stimming you need to do

Whether you want her to ignore your echoing, or to join in whenever she hears, she's happy to do whatever you ask to keep you happy

Feitan

If he catches you copying something he said in broken language, at first he will assume that you were making fun of him

Not because he thinks that you're mean spirited, just because he's used to people mocking

With most members of the Troupe, he would show no mercy at this point, but since he actually likes you, you get one chance to explain yourself

Once you tell him about why you're copying him, he'll be seriously confused for a moment

Yeah he's never heard the word echolalia before

So you'll have to explain it to him

Probably doesn't immediately get it, but he lets you off the hook for it, since he does understand that you're very different from him and the others

Doesn't really think too much of it once you've cleared up that you aren't mocking him, although he finds it interesting to listen to you talking about how stimming works, even when he doesn't understand half of it

Kortopi

Actually another case that assumes that you're mocking him

He's used to being acknowledged as a weak link in the Troupe, and would get quite internally upset if he thought you were also in on the joke

I can't explain why I think this, but I actually see him as one of the most educated members of the group when it comes to any sort of neurodiversity, since I think he's neurodivergent himself, but he probably doesn't catch on immediately that this stems from your own autism

Wouldn't confront you straight away, but when he does, he tries to be as professional as possible about it

Cue a string of quiet apologies when you explain yourself

Quickly tries to explain himself to you, and you probably bond over how annoying it can be to have stimming misunderstood

Tries his best to let you know from then on that any symptoms you need to express are accepted around him, since he knows that you accept him as well

-----

Thanks for reading!

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!Hongjoong - Fateful

word count: 2.2k warnings: explicit language, gun use, death, mentions of alcohol summary: a feisty baby for a feisty scorpio a/n: I started writing this so loyal to mafia!ateez but now that I’ve watched kingdom, I’ve changed my mind - I wanna be a pirate hoe.

“You forgot your toothbrush.” You said, sat by the desk, arms crossed. “Good thing I didn’t finish unpacking right, you can take your shit just the way it came in the boxes, hmm?” You didn’t get angry very often due to the pure fact that your expectations for your boyfriend were so low at this point. The way that your words, let alone your face, held no emotion terrified the boy. He shuffled around your apartment, gathering his things with eyes to the ground in guilt.

“Can you hurry up? I have places to be.” You said, fingers massaging your temple.

Stopping in his tracks, the boy turned to you with pleading eyes for the nth time today, “Baby, I’m so sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hurt you like tha-”

“I’m sorry, what? You disrespected me, not hurt me, there’s a difference-”

“Why are you doing this to me? You know I love you.” He pleaded.

“Is that a serious question right now? You cheated with my assistant in your first week as intern at my firm, then tried and miserably failed to gaslight and manipulate me into believing your lies which I find pretty bold considering that I’m literally a lawyer. I respect the attempt though.”

“Baby, it was an acci-”

“No, shut up, I’m not done speaking. And you did this while I bought out this apartment for you because I felt bad for your sorry ass having to live with your dumb friends. I had to spoon feed you through law school and now through life too? You should be grateful that I’m letting you leave with all your things considering I bought them all too.”

He stood there with his hands gathered, staring back at the floor again.

“What. You got nothing to say? I thought so. You gonna leave now or what?” You questioned. He took his boxes, feet dragging across the floor to the door. You rolled your eyes as you closed the door on him. Before needing to look for a new intern and a new assistant, you needed a drink more than anything.

-

It was a regular Friday evening at the bar for Hongjoong and the boys. In celebration of Ateez’s successful expansion of their ‘business ventures’, Hongjoong had decided to spend the rest of the day at their usual spot. Despite having been set up for the sole purpose of laundering their dirty money, Bar 1117 was doing ironically well. Due to the nightlife business booming, Hongjoong had gained another alibi to keep him under the radar and he couldn’t be more comfortable with where his life was at.

“No, I reckon it’s Yeosang” San said, bringing the glass of whisky to his lips.

“I back that, he’s not got the emotional capacity for it.” Woo agreed, laughing.

“Yeah, just because I don’t take any of your shit doesn’t mean I’ll do the same to my wife. I bet Mingi. He’s definitely getting married last.” Yeo rebutted.

“What wh-”

Before Mingi could finish, Seonghwa cut through, “Considering our line of work, no one’s gonna be getting married any time soon. Right Joong?”

Turning to the leader of the boys, Seonghwa saw that Hongjoong had his head turned away from the conversation, eyes scanning up and down a figure at the bar. Hongjoong was never a man to be distracted by anything or anyone, always focused on his business so it was a rare occurrence for him to be looking so intently at a person. The boys catching onto this, they followed his gaze to a man sat so close to the lucky person’s face, his facial expressions showing his desperation for a way to break down their walls.

“This might be interesting…” Wooyoung smirked.

-

“I genuinely couldn’t care less.” You said, head cocked to the side in your hand, staring dead straight into the man’s eyes. However, the man had no intention of ever stopping his speech as he sat next to you at the bar.

“Come on, you really don’t know my father? He was in today’s paper?” He carried on as you zoned out of the conversation and occasionally cringed at the man’s stale breath, wondering how many more men were going to be responsible for the deepening wrinkles between your brows. As you took a sip from your drink, you locked eyes with a blonde-haired man across the room. His features were delicate yet sharp like the thorn of a rose, or a shard of glass, eyes twinkling with mischief. He raised his glass at you and smirked, amused by the situation that you were in.

“Listen here, bitch-” The man grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him, “You’re gonna take the drinks I buy you, listen when I speak and sit pretty like a woman is supposed to.” He spat.

“Grrrr, scary.” You crudely imitated the growl in the man’s voice, still uninterested, “What a man your mother raised. I bet she’s proud, hmm?”

Anger radiating from the man’s body, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and threw it at the wall behind you, missing your face by inches.

“Oh, so now you’re going to scare me into sleeping with you? You need to brush up on some people skills.” You laughed, throwing you head back. You only composed yourself to grab the man’s collar, causing him to stumble off his stool. “You want to throw another glass at me? Try it.”

You hadn’t noticed the blonde-haired man stroll up to your table seeing that you were so caught up in the situation.

“Hi, I’m Hongjoong. How’s your night going? Anything I can help you with?” He asked, rubbing his hands together, surprisingly composed despite the mess. You let go of the man as the name triggered something in your head, remembering it being mentioned a few times behind closed-door meetings with your father.

“Are all the whores around here like this? I came here for some fun and this is how I’m treated? Fuck this place and every one of you here.” The man started at Hongjoong. You sat there, curling your fists ready to punch the man this time but Hongjoong noticed and interjected.

He placed his hands on the ledge of the table, leaning forward to obstruct the space between you and the man. As he did, you noticed the glimpse of a gun hanging from inside his fitted jacket, the slick shine of the metal winking at you in the light.

“I’d rather die than come to this shithole again.” The man carried on and you noticed the mischievous glint that was once in Hongjoong’s eyes finally fade to black.

“Oh, sure thing, I don’t think I want to see you here again anyway.” Hongjoong muttered and what happened in the next few seconds flew by so fast it barely registered in your brain.

The blonde-haired man reached into his jacket to pull the handgun out and shoot the man clean between the brows. At the same time, you pointed the small pistol you always kept concealed on your body at Hongjoong in reflex, having been taught to react to the sound of gunmetal in this way since you were a child.

Once you realised that the bullet wasn’t intended for you, you sensed seven pairs of eyes trained on you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw that the boys once sat at Hongjoong’s table were all stood up, half of their guns out pointed to the man, and the other half at you, the next possible threat to their leader.

It was then that you realised that this man was the leader of Ateez, Seoul’s biggest underground organization responsible for the running of the city. It may have been politicians and businessmen in the spotlight, but behind the curtains, it was Ateez pulling at their puppet strings.

“Easy with that, angel.” Hongjoong turned to you smiling and raised a hand at the boys to lower their weapons. He continued chuckling, “I felt like you might have an attitude, but I didn’t expect this from you.”

As if it were a regular occurrence, two barmen came round to dispose of the body and your eyes followed, gun still pointing at the blonde man. Using the tip of his fingers, he gently lowered your gun to point at the floor.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, “I know some people that can sort that out.”

“Yeah those people are my paralegals paying off police in their missing persons hunts and forging their death certificates.”

Everything had fallen into place for you in that brief encounter. You knew that your father and his firm were involved in some dark business, but you never questioned it. Respecting your father’s wishes in telling you that keeping you in the dark was keeping you safe, you let it go.

However, it was only a few years ago that he had begun to tell you about his private dealings as consigliere to the organisation Ateez. That recently, his age-old friend had stepped down as mob boss and handed everything down to his son. Chuckling at how much he saw the image of his friend in the young blood, he mentioned that you would be in a similar position, that you too would be handed the law firm and become consigliere by tradition.

You had always expected to take up this mantle since you were young, as you figured that the men coming to your house for private meetings while you played in the garden did not treat you with unparalleled respect for no reason. You just didn’t realise that it would mean for you to be so heavily tied with the illicit world of the mafia then.

From then on, you trained close by your father’s side, learning the ins and outs of the world of jurisdiction, though you were never exposed directly to the ongoings with the mafia as your father had said, “the time will come when it needs to.”

“Then I guess today is the day.” You whispered to yourself smiling, you held your hand out to Hongjoong. “I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my father has always spoken very highly of you.”

Confused at first, a spark was ignited in Hongjoong as the shine returned to his eyes, and the amused smirk to his lips, your name triggering something in him. Realising that you were the daughter to one of the men he most respected in his life, he took your hand and brought it to his face to kiss gently, “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, I’ve heard a great deal about you as well, but who knew my future right-hand man would be so hot.” He said as he flashed a sly smile.

The more he observed, the flames within Hongjoong only grew as he could sense the fire in you too. The most beautiful person he had ever set eyes on was to be his consigliere? Couldn’t be any more perfect. He wondered what more you could achieve together and pictured only pure wildfire.

“You better watch your mouth Mr. Kim, unless you want to start a war between the family before I even take up my position.”

“Of course, I have nothing but respect for you and your father. I was told that I wouldn’t be meeting you until he was to step down from his position, but I guess my lucky stars have aligned perfectly tonight.”

“Also, I’m more than capable of dealing with these things myself, there was no need for you to play knight in shining armour.”

“Sure, holed up in your guarded palace of a law firm, you’ve never had experience in the real world. Things are different here and what happened at this bar is just the cusp of it, princess.” He rebutted voice dripping honey, flirting his way through the conversation.

“But who is it advising your every action and saving your asses in the courtrooms, hmm?”

You and Hongjoong continued to jab at each other while the boys sat back in disbelief at the situation. Common people would have run the other way as soon as a gun was shot in their vicinity. So for you to have pulled one out in retaliation and furthering that, started arguing with their Captain, it was a sight to see.

“Bets on who’s going to win this one?” Yunho broke the silence.

“I’m betting tonight’s drinks on the lady.” Mingi said, throwing his black card onto the table.

“Me too, Hongjoong hyung looks too smitten for pride games right now.” Jongho agreed.

“Looks like we’ve got our first to tie the knot then.” San chuckled, nudging at Wooyoung who replied, “Hmmm, she doesn’t look like the typical housewife type though.” Analysing the unmatched confidence exuding from your body language.

Soon after, Hongjoong led you to the table of boys, pulling a chair out for you.

“Guys, this is Y/N L/N, future consigliere to Ateez, and not to mention, my future wife.” He smirked, eyes glowing.

“Carry on and I’ll be future Captain by regicide, Hongjoong,” you shot him a glare as you took your seat, “considering our fateful encounter, it looks like I’ll be seeing you more often with my father now, I hope we can get along.”

You poured yourself a glass of whisky and smiled while Hongjoong could already sense the eventful days ahead with none other than you by his side. -

Mafia AU Masterlist

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

[oftenderweapons]

Not sure if this counts as a Drabble I’m not really familiar with it sorry! So you can ignore if you want but maybe you can do a list of BTS and the OC’s favorite kinks

[A/N: this took a very long time coming, mostly because it was a lengthy job. Sorry for the wait nonnie, I hope it’s worth it 🥴😉]

Okay! I sort of assembled this as a mix of short headcanons (there are six to eight each — also I got carried away with Jk, he’s got eleven but some are like, are more lowkey). They’re divided couple by couple and I’ve tried to be as realistic as possible, which means that some couples have some kinks in common, especially since I stayed on more well-known kinks and fetishes that represent each couple’s go-to. I do think they explore less popular kinks other than the ones I listed, however they might not go there that often.

You’ll be seeing some of these soon ;) [ILLICIT AFFAIRS WON I AM CRYING]

Uhm. Obviously there’s a lot of stuff I have to include in the trigger warnings, so bear with me. 

This is obviously 18+

TRIGGER WARNINGS: discipline (brat taming, sub training), impact play (spankings, paddle, flogger, riding crop; both on ass and breasts), marking, dirty talking, choking, masturbation (male and female receiving; mututal), squirting, several fetishes (uniform, shoes, feet, voice), cock worship, breast worship, powerplay (DDLG, daddy kink; domination; mommy kink; Primal/predator-prey dynamics, pet play), orgasm control and deprivation, role play, food play, cum play/cum eating, pain kink, sensation play, temperature play, edging and overstimulation, phone sex, cyber sex, bondage, torture play/forced masturbation, tickling, anal play (buttplugs, strap on, rimming, penetration), degradation kink, corruption kink, voyeurism and exhibitionism, outdoor sex, cockwarming, oral sex (male and female receiving; facefucking male receiving; mutual), sex toys (nipple clamps, dildo, vibrator)

Not exactly kinks, more like attitudes: experimentalism, intimacy, sapiosexuality

Check out my masterlist here 

Enjoy 💜✨

Namjoon and Vixen

Daddy kink; brat taming

I think it’s sort of a given, but it also needs to be included. Vixen’s first relationship was when she had just turned nineteen, with a man quite older than her. They were together for a couple years and he significantly shaped her needs in terms of intimacy and sex. Her parenting figures were really weak and she grew up with a nanny who taught her her second language, French. Namjoon — being always a very responsible very nurturing figure within the group, and somehow having the role of a mediator — is used to stubborn, hot-headed people and would probably be a bit bored with someone incapable of giving him a bit of attitude. This said, it comes quite natural that Vixen (although she is a very smart, very elegant young lady) looks for guidance in her partner, and after the responsibilities that come with her career, she looks for someone who can take decisions for her and even control her private life a little, like check that she eats and what she eats, or pick what she’s going to wear for the day. On the other hand, Namjoon likes being taken care of in other ways, namely cuddles and homecooked meals, which Vixen offers profusely. Her childlike, unconditional affection is exactly what makes Namjoon baby her, and such behaviour on his behalf encourages her to rely on him even more, letting him pamper her and spoil her. And in terms of bratting... Well, Vixen likes seeing him lose his cool — because a sick part of her (she knows it’s sick) gets horny seeing Namjoon angry. And Namjoon in returns gets even more cool and composed the more she gets feisty. He calls the shot, may she like it or not. The point is that with some cuddles, soft words (and a few good spanks) he always manages to tame her.

Spanking

Vixen likes getting spanked. And Namjoon is obsessed with her ass. He is an ass and thighs man. Fight me on this one. Nothing turns him on more than seeing her flesh quiver after the impact of a good spank. Vixen likes it simply because it condenses three of her favourite things, discipline, punishments and pain kink. Spanks are delivered both as a reward and as a punishment, and Namjoon knows how to make a distinction between the two cases, although he much prefers delivering them as a reward, since he hasn’t got much of a pain kink, and painful activities are a soft limit for him, both in terms of giving and receiving. He approves that kind of pain that is simply aimed at enhancing pleasure. Vixen really likes spanks delivered with the bare palm of a hand, since those are the one that she perceives as the most “educational”; however she also likes the paddle, the hairbrush and other more tricky devices (that you will discover soon *wink*).

Marking

Namjoon is crazy for marking Vixen. He is very jealous of her and their relationship staying on the low means that he can’t actually claim her publicly. They both try to protect their relationship for as long as possible, and I can quite see him deciding to keep it private until he’s been married to her for a while. But he’s gonna mark his baby, especially in spots that are only his and hers to see. His absolutely favourite spot would be her hip tattoo, of course, where he always places the first hickey of the night; next her inner thighs, her crotch and her breasts (lovely tiny cherries, he loves them the most). When she allows him, he also leaves hickeys on her neck and chest. Obviously her butt too. He also likes biting, especially her ass (until he leaves bruises and/or actual indentations) and her inner thighs — the softer parts. Vixen also marks him when he’s not on a schedule, when they’re on vacation and they can let loose a little. He especially likes it when she leaves scratches on his back and shoulders, but he also enjoys hickeys on his chest and thighs when she’s on her way to giving him head.

Sapiosexualilty; dirty talking

We all know these two have filthy tongues. They’re sapiosexuals, so they’re turned on by mind games, smart use of language, verbal sparring etcetera. They’re both readers and intellectuals, which means they enjoy a polished, often obscure use of language. They’re the most likely to send each other texts (or even emails) where they simply wax poetic about fucking each other. They can literally send a text at nine am about some spicy play they intend to do later that night, let excitement build all day long and — as soon as they get home — they wait and see who’s the one that surrenders (spoiler: usually Joon because Vixen is a brat and brats are tough eggs to crack). In bed, Vixen loves listening to Namjoon’s voice, no matter if he’s talking about how good it feels to be inside her or if he makes romantic love declarations in midst of a rowdy fuck. Also they might argue while they have sex or pick stupid fights just to release some tension (totally the type to start a discussion as they choose the mirror for the bathroom, Vixen picking round while Namjoon picks rectangular, embarrassing the shopping assistant as they get into hard bickering heavy with sexual tension).

Choking

This is a new one, to both of them. Vixen had never toyed with it before, since she risked drowning when she was a child so she’s not a fan of anything that involves breath control. Still, she didn’t imagine she could be turned on by choking her partner. The first time Namjoon grabs her wrist and brings her hand to his neck she freaks out a little, but then she gets a grip (haha) and realises that seeing him that fucked out, and hearing him moan like that is something most definitely turning her on. Namjoon has a sensitive neck and chest, so having Vixen touching him there makes his soul leave his body; furthermore, the level of trust required leads us right onto the next kink.

Intimacy

I realise this is not exactly a kink, however it is a necessary condition for things to get sexy between these two. Namjoon and Vixen need special closeness for things to work out. Talking, flirting, but also sharing physical closeness and affection, occupying the same mental space. They don’t need to be making love for things to be very emotional. Even the angriest, rowdiest of fuckings to them is actually a very fond way of saying ‘I love you’. I think that out all the kinks this is the most difficult to explain. I suppose this is what makes them incredibly talented even at good ol’ plain vanilla.

Mutual Masturbation

I think these two just do that a lot. They’re extremely comfortable with having the other watch as they touches themselves. I think it started with Vixen being her shameless, teasing, kinky self and Namjoon being incapable of holding back, and then it naturally evolved into both him and her openly touching themselves for the other to see. I think they learn by watching so observing the other and seeing how they do it is how they master their technique.

Lingerie and shoe fetish

Namjoon is obsessed with Vixen’s sexiness, how she carries herself, how much charisma and self confidence she can muster when she is almost naked. I’ve always seen Namjoon extremely attracted to Vixen’s body and seeing it there, with the bare necessities covered by expensive and lush lace and silk, or even in funny cotton drawers with innocent prints is a ticket to Nirvana for Namjoon. I bet you can imagine Vixen lounging on the bed, provocatoriously clad in black lace as she reads a book, and Namjoon entering the room, ready to pounce on her with predatorial intents.

Jin and Angel

Cockworship

We all know that Jin comes from several vanilla experiences, during which he always kept his basest instincts at bay. Once Angel gives him the green light, he’s not letting go. Angel loves celebrating his virility in all ways possible, showing how much she appreciates a part of him that he has felt ashamed of, in some ways. And Jin gets extremely turned on by the simple view of Angel kneeling before him, looking at him as he touches himself, begging to touch and/or kiss his cock. He gets wild with it, especially if you sum that up with Jin being especially interested in discipline. Watching Angel worship his cock with her hands, mouth, tits gives him that sense of power and authority that enhances his dominance and turns him into a cocky, power-hungry beast, ready to do anything to quench his thirst, fulfill his desires and almost entirely ignore Angel’s needs — don’t worry, she actually gets off to Jin getting what he wants on whichever terms he deems necessary.

Power play

Jin likes having power. Being more powerful than Angel is one of the mental tricks he uses to keep himself from going vanilla. The powerful position is what allows him to call the shots, choose what to do and actually claim what he wants and needs. Watching Angel kneel in front of him, with her eyes low until he calls for her attention is one of his biggest turn-ons. And Angel is way more than okay with this: watching Jin take control and knowing that she is pleasing him, that any activity they’re getting into is bound to make Jin loud and messy and fucked out, is the strongest aphrodisiac. When in a vanilla mindset, Jin can’t quite understand (yet) what pushes Angel into pleasing him and how much his pleasure means to her, as they’re still at the beginning of their sexplorations. The more they get familiar with each other’s roles and needs, the more Jin finds pleasure in ruling over Angel and watch her stare at him with her big, beautiful, hungry eyes.

Orgasm control/deprivation

Jin’s need for power manifests in different ways. The fact that Jin comes from several years of vanilla and self control, and Angel has gotten used to their calmer approach to intimacy and sex, makes them both quite good at sexual deprivation. He can easily deprive her for weeks, or deprive himself: when he’s depriving her, his favourite activity is having her kneel on the floor, naked and touch himself until he cums on her breasts; when he’s depriving himself he likes eating her out for at least two or three rounds, until she’s begging for him to fuck her, completely desperate and on the verge of tears when he denies her. Regardless of who is being deprived, when she gets whiny and emotional, he always makes sure to reassure her and remind her when the period of deprivation is going to end, telling her what he plans to do to her as soon as he allows himself to. About orgasm control — Angel needs training. And a very stern one at that. She is not used at that level of control, mostly because she’s used to a very loving, very attentive Seokjin who wants her pleased and pampered all the time. Orgasm control is most definitely the thing she hates the most out of all her training; the only factor keeping her from truly hating it is how Jin turns soft once she manages to complete a task successfully, praising her and letting her have more control — either turning the scene into vanilla lovemaking or letting her turn the tables and ride him until she’s happy and sated.

Role play

Jin sometimes needs help getting into an aggressive, authoritative mood. Luckily, he is a great actor and he know exactly how to get into character. He would often assume a role out of the blue, letting Angel choose what position to occupy — although his all time favourite is teacher-student. It allows him to get into the strictest, harshest forms of impact play, having lots of fun watching sweat, drool and cum stain Angel's uniform, or watching her breasts burst out of her schoolgirl blouse. On a minor note he loves using a paddle or a riding crop on Angel, making her bend over the edge of the bed and flipping her skirt up, spanking her until she's begging, only to sit on the bed and put her head between his legs, tugging at her pigtails (but never letting himself go too deep — he has no interest in seeing Angel gag on him, it's his own hard limit before being hers). Other types of roleplay he likes are doctor-nurse or doctor-patient, landlord-maid, pilot-hostess and obviously chef and waitress, which leads us right to next prompt.

Food play

Angel loves Jin's cooking. She loves watching his wide shoulders in front of the stove, she loves hearing him hum when he tastes something good, she loves him leaning over the table and offering her some food from his fork. She especially likes seeing him so passionate and dedicated, and she loves showing enthusiasm for a hobby that is so dear to him and on which he puts so much effort. Food play is mostly a way to set the tone for passionate, steamy lovemaking, where he worships every inch of Angel's body with his lips. Angel has developed an involuntary reaction to seeing his special cookbook on the small prop by the stove. Wetness coats her thigh as soon as she sees his messy handwriting on the page, signaling that he is indeed preparing a sauce or cream for kinky play. He really likes playing with frozen fruit and ice cream or watching Angel squirm as chocolate sauce tickles her while dribbling down her breasts. He is wicked. And also awfully gluttonous. Angel spoils him and is spoiled with this specific kink of theirs. It was the first kink they explored even when their relationship was still vanilla.

Pain kink

Not much explaining to do. Jin goes absolutely wild with riding crops and paddles. There’s nothing more exciting than watching Angel push her chest towards him, trying to convince him to remove her nipple clamps as she writhing underneath him.

Cum play

There’s nothing more exciting for Jin than watching his cum stain Angel’s breasts, or pulling out at the very last second to cum on her belly. Another thing he loves is to jerk off and make Angel wait with her mouth open, ready to welcome the head of his cock as he finally reaches his climax and spills inside her, telling her not to swallow and open her mouth to show him how much she loves the result of his pleasure before closing her mouth and swallowing, and showing that she took every single droplet of it.

Yoongi and Kitten

Sensation play

Kitten is a bad bitch. She gets off at having Yoongi moaning, squirming, whimpering and groaning underneath her. And Yoongi is so sensitive. It would be a shame not to toy with that. She likes giving him head and edging him, putting him through the absolute worst. He gets weak whenever Kitten blindfolds him, pours warm massage oil on him and procedes with the most relaxing touches and caresses. He gets whiny and desperate whenever she chooses to bring ice cubes to the bedroom and he gets absolutely wild whenever her bullet vibrator is aimed at him instead of her. Kitten is a menace — and maybe a bit of a sadist — but it always feels so sweet once she finally offers him release. Yoongi might consider it torture, but in the end he really, really loves that.

Choking kink

There’s not much difference: choking... being choked... both are okay with giving and receiving. Kitten has a sensitive neck and chest, which means any action there is a huge turn on. Her sensitivity there means she usually covers her upper torso, since it being even slightly exposed makes her feel vulnerable; plus she often needs to hide hickeys and bruises anyway.

Oral fixation; face fucking

Kitten loves giving blowjob, Yoongi loves placing his mouth anywhere on Kitten, especially on her lips, her chest and between her legs. Yoongi has given hints about... Uhm... Oral skills. I think he'd be glad to spend hours between Kitten's legs, and since she wasn't entirely confident with receiving oral sex (her ex was a prick), he is more than happy to take things slow and help her rebuild enough confidence to literally have her climb him while he's laying on the bed, and unashamedly sit on his face and ride it.

Voice fetish

When Kitten and Yoongi met, both were attracted by each other’s voice and throughout courtship and dating they both loved listening to the other talk. Yoongi knows his voice is attractive, and he is incredibly attuned to Kitten’s slightly deep, very soft and quiet voice. She has a velvety timbre that is so relaxing and exciting at the same time. He could get wild at her whispering in his ear, feeling her lips graze against the shell of his ear. However, Kitten would be equally weak if he did that to her.

Phone sex

Since they both enjoy listening to each other’s voice, and since Yoongi travels a lot, they are really into phone sex when they’re too far apart, or when Yoongi needs to stay at the dorms or if they feel extremely needy in the middle of the day. Even when he’s on tour, they prefer phone sex to kinky video calls.

Breast worship

This kink, paired up with Yoongi’s oral fixation, Kitten’s sensitive chest, and cumplay just explains how much exploring there is toward this direction. There are no limits: sensation play with ice cubes or warm massage oil, wax play, food play, boob jobs, a lot of nipple teasing… Kitten is open to experimenting and Yoongi is more than aware of what could feel nice and what would be utter torture. And he wants to try it all.  

Cumplay and Cum eating

Yoongi is not afraid of things getting messy. He likes having Kitten’s juices all over his face, licking them off his lips and fingers: he doesn’t need her to taste like watermelon or smell like rainbows and unicorns. He wants a woman, real and messy. He loves the salty taste on his tongue, and he can tell when she’s close to her period for how the taste of her changes. Plus, he loves cumming on her breasts, especially if his semen accidentally marks her pretty, lacy bras. 

Hoseok and Giggles

Handjobs; squirting

Hoseok’s hands are a blessing. But his fingers are a gift of the devil. They were made to sin and torture. Giggles is very sensitive on her own account. That paired up with Hoseok’s skills makes for wild nights of soaked sheets — luckily enough they buy an impermeable blanket pretty much at the beginning of their relationship.

Impact play; flogger

Not only Hoseok’s hands are a blessing, but those wrists are stretchable. Fluent. They’re perfect for cracking a whip. Or a flogger — he is a bit afraid of using a whip, and it takes a lot of space… However, floggers? He smiles wickedly whenever Giggles gets close to him on Thursday or Friday and casually sits on his lap, hooks an arm behind his neck and leans in close. “I don’t have my Monday shift… Do you think we could… Play with the flogger?” She asks, a bit insecure. He usually plans scenes for Saturday night, so he can have all the aftercare equipment ready and he can spend all Sunday taking care of Giggles. If he can comply to her request, he hugs her close to him and reassures her as they start planning more details.

Bondage

By now it is canon that these two have taken lessons, that they have personalised ropes that Giggles had to prepare personally. Although she’s more precise and diligent in knots, Hoseok is also very attentive and prepared; they often discuss bondage scenes, even over dinner, talking about how the scene will play out, which types of knots to use, how to secure the rope, et cetera.

Experimenting

As I said, they are both absolutely okay discussing stuff they want to try. It isn’t uncommon for them to be watching a movie and suddenly something appears — even something as banal as a clothespin or a makeup brush —  and suddenly one of them is going: “We could use that in bed”. It isn’t uncommon for them to discuss kinky stuff during the week, planning scenes over dinner, or while they’re chilling, or whatever.

Torture play; Overstimulation; tickling

Hoseok likes seeing Giggles writhing and tossing underneath him. He likes torturing her with overstimulation, giving her orgasms back to back or making her squirt so many times that she passes out — it only happened twice and he made sure she drank almost two litres of water afterwards to make sure she didn’t get dehydrated. He also loves her laugh and her nickname comes from the lovely, happy sounds she makes when he coaxes a laugh from her. He loves tickling her to tears, her silvery voice erupting in chuckles that fill his heart with joy.

Shifting positions; multiple rounds

Hoseok has stamina and flexibility. He can go for three rounds without even blinking. He’d manoeuvre Giggles in and out of positions, directing her, helping her put her body in place, following her movements as she shifts. She’s not always happy with all the moving around, especially when she finds a good position and Hoseok decides he wants to change it; however, he can be extremely convincing and he happens to remember all her favourites, putting them in a smooth, easy sequence whenever he wants to reward her — which is at least twice a month because Giggles is the most perfect little bubble.

Jimin and Princess

Exhibitionism

Jimin lives to be watched. His mannerism and elegance make him a performer, even in the plainest tasks. When Princess is watching him, he only exists for her eyes and her eyes only. Nothing gratifies him more than the loving, passionate glances she throws at him when with their friends, or the obscured and raptured ones when she’s dominating him, or the desperate, imploring ones when it’s his turn to call the shots.

Pet play

Jimin is a huge switch. He likes following his whims and is overall a brat, who just does whatever he likes. So, when Princess comes out of the bathroom before bedtime and finds him lounging on the bed naked with a pair of cat ears, his collar and her riding crop waiting on her bedside table, she knows exactly the kind of treatment he’s trying to get. Nevertheless, when in that mood he turns into the most obedient little kitty, so vulnerable and frail that Princess knows she shall treat him with velvet gloves (haha). Literally.

Edging and overstimulation

Princess likes it when Jimin gets messy and whiny and loud. She likes listening to him whimpering and whining while she uses her vibrator on him and makes him cry. It makes her feel powerful. It also makes her ten times softer afterwards and she just loves it when he hits subspace so bad he starts calling her mommy and begging for her to make him cum.

Anal play

Both Princess and Jimin are okay with giving and receiving. Princess is especially in love with double penetration. Jimin is very okay with rimming and putt plugs.

Spanking

Jimin has never really had the courage to try getting spanked before. He had his first experience with Princess, directing her thought the scene. He had learnt basic directions in case he ever needed to teach his partner, but he never thought it would actually happen. From there he and Princess get more comfortable with spankings and get even more involved in impact play, still spankings stay Jimin’s favourite.

Degradation

When in dom mode, Jimin can be vitriolic in his remarks, praising Princess with the dirtiest taunts. Some name calling happens, but Jimin never lets that get too deep. He usually opts for a patronising behaviour that questions Princess’ ability to live without him, and usually avoids anything outright insulting.

Breast worship

Jimin loves Princess’ chest. He likes touching her breasts, more than anything else, but this doesn’t mean he won’t slap them, suck them and fuck them every now and then.

[Sorry if I didn’t write much, honestly I’m still figuring these two out. I think it has a lot to do with Jimin being just so... mercurial. I can’t find another word. He is the least “steady” character in my head. I don’t know. I’ve always had problems with understanding Libras. He’s just so moody and so... It’s frustrating. I just have so many vibes coming from him it’s too much.]

Taehyung and Lace

Voyeurism; exhibitionism

While Jimin lives to be watched, Taehyung is all about the art of watching. Taehyung needs to watch Lace. It doesn’t matter if she’s putting on her lipstick or washing the dishes or brushing her teeth or sucking his cock. He will study her like a painting hung in a museum until he can close his eyes and imagine her exist like a hologram in his head. He loves watching her during sex and he indirectly loves being watched by her too. Lace has never felt so beautiful. 

Outdoor sex

I think they wouldn’t mind trying outdoor sex: the lack of available locations in Seoul initially discourages them, but as they start going on holidays together, geographic remoteness and private outdoor spaces start becoming characteristics these two actually look for in their ideal resort. Yes, they’re the type to fuck against a tree in the woods — or maybe on the beach, under the stars (with Lace taking the utmost care in making sure nothing goes wrong in terms of safety both to their healths and Taehyung’s career).

Cyber sex

With Taehyung travelling because of his job, it isn’t uncommon for him and Lace to become cyber sex experts. Not only he has videos of her safely stored away in a memory card he has basically stitched to his skin — he is hyperaware of it and they are extremely careful of anything that could possibly link the video to the two of them — but he's more than willing to plan videocalls where they can get carried away in front of the camera for the other's viewing pleasure.

Cockwarming

There’s nothing more relaxing and intimate to Taehyung and Lace than being physically connected after sex. After being so close, so together even for a rough, brief quickie, it is traumatic for them to part too suddenly, so usually Taehyung stays inside her for at least a bunch of minutes.

Oral fixation

Both Taehyung and Lace like putting their mouth on the other. Lace could live with Taehyung’s cock in her mouth, while he especially loves to bite her flesh, pretty much anywhere, or stare at her face while he suckles her breasts like a little boy. He could literally fall asleep while they’re facing each other, on their sides, suckling at her nipple while she handcombs his hair, the pressure slowly decreasing until he lets go completely, sound asleep.

Foot fetish

Both Taehyung and Lace are new to this and they're more than willing to explore. Expect Taehyung to grow increasingly addicted to them playing footsie underneath the dinner table, but also to get exceedingly turned on by having Lace's feet laying on his lap or crotch.

Squirting

Taehyung knows exactly how to touch Lace, massaging her after a long day, relaxing her whole body before his fingers end up inside her. His strong, sinewy fingers seem to be programmed to please her. Nevertheless, he is not prone to use this as a form of torture; he'd much rather use it to amplify Lace's sensitivity and help her reach further states of pleasure.

Anal play

I think Taehyung aims at possessing every inch of Lace's body, and of course he wouldn't mind one bit to rim, finger or fuck her ass. He'd be absolutely fine with buttplugs and double penetration. And don't think he would mind wearing a butt plug himself — I think he's the most likely to wear a tail-buttplug, probably. I also think he is by far the most comfortable with the idea of getting pegged: he knows his power and he knows it could never be undermined by Lace fucking him with her strap on.

Jungkook and Candy

Predator play

May it be playful or absolutely ruthless, Jeongguk loves hunting Candy inside his apartment. He loves playing hide and seek, he loves the rush he feels when he spots a hint, and he loves even more the adrenaline coursing through his body when he chases her down the corridor and picks her up, throwing her body over his shoulder — oh, and most of all he loves ripping her clothes off and taking her whenever he manages to catch her.

Corruption kink

Jeongguk’s predatory instincts get even louder when Candy is acting innocent, being her happy, playful, bubbly self. Go figure when she’s sleeping and her face is so soft and young and she has a slight pout and squishable cheeks: Jeongguk can feel his blood flood to all the right places, arousal and adrenaline mixing up, while his brain tries to stay calm, wake her up gently and ask for her consent.

Marking

It’s not that big of a thing to him, he might leave hickeys down Candy’s chest, but that’s mostly it. He’s shy and he’s not all that comfortable with other people seeing them. However, I decided to place this kink right here because bunny wants to be marked. He loves indentations and scratches coming from Candy’s medium-short nails. His all time favourite are scratches down his back, and small crescents on his shoulders and ass. Also lowkey scratches down his abs and thighs. He might go crazy the moment he’s not promoting or shooting and he can finally let Candy cover his chest in hickeys.

Degradation

When absolutely fucked out, Jeongguk starts rambling the most saccharine, degrading sentences to Candy. He has a rich collection of dirty pet names, sometimes with a patronising or humiliating undertone. He doesn’t do it coherently, he’s just not thinking and it feels that good. Of course he always apologises afterwards, but Candy has no shame whatsoever. He might apologise for calling her his fuckdoll, but she’s not ashamed of it, that’s exactly what she is. Hearing him speak those nasty words always gets her going since it shows how fucked out she’s getting him.

Praise

Jeongguk wants to be praised. His ego bursts when Candy praises him, openly or not. Candy whining while he hits the spot is one of the strongest praises she can offer him. He direly needs to be praised when in sub mode, matching the encouraging words with soothing touches and loving glances.

Mommy kink

Yes. They’re exploring a few things after it turned out Joengguk wanted to try. Apparently he’s enjoying way more than he expected. Especially when he’s playing chase with Candy and she grows tired, stomps her foot to the floor and gets her harsh tone on. He starts obeying in seconds. Overall a well.behaved baby, if a little lively and energetic.

Breast worship

Another great fan of boobs. He really loves fucking Candy’s tits, especially while she’s laying down and he’s sitting on top of her, straddling her ribs. His obsession worsens once she gets a nipple piercing: it becomes his favourite place to put his hand on before sleep.

Oral sex

Candy is the absolute grandmaster of blowjobs. She’s the non plus ultra. Blowjobs become Jeongguk’s favourite reward, especially when paired up with her cunt grinding against his face. He could die a happy man like that. After helping Candy get rid of her insecurities about being eaten out, Jeongguk decides he’d do that at least three times a week, almost planning a schedule to make sure he didn’t skip a day. He lowkey asks Yoongi for tips, trying to find new positions to test Candy’s resistance.

Cockwarming

Jeongguk gets very emotionally vulnerable after sex. He needs to talk about his insecurities and doubts, since he always feels so connected to Candy right in the aftermath. At the beginning, cockwarming is actually a consequence of him not realising he hasn’t pulled out as he rambles about everything that is going on inside his mind; however, as he gets used to that, he begins to do it willingly, feeling too naked and cold without staying inside her.

Multiple rounds

Jeongguk has a very high stamina. He can last two to three rounds — four if he’s going wild —, then go for some food, some water and/or a nap and be ready for more in a few hours. Candy is absolutely okay with it: he’s usually the one moving her like a puppet, so even if she’s exhausted, she doesn’t need to worry, he’ll do all the work.

Rough/animalistic sex

Jeongguk is not exceedingly into powerplay: any kind of power imbalance comes naturally, without any kind of planning or negotiating and what the others express in more niche activities, they simply express in very rough, very intense fucking. Especially when Jeongguk has just come home from the gym. Rather than using fancy toys or sophisticated practices, they much rather jump each other bones and fuck like rabbits (haha).

[broadstflyers]

A/N: I am so excited to be starting my first ever series. This is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Cardigan” because her music creates stories in my head that I must write down on (digital) paper. Please keep in mind this chapter is written in past tense, and the story probably won't be in present tense for at least another few chapters. Let me know what you think! If you want to be on the tag list for the next chapter, or drop any (constructive) feedback, you can take this survey here.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter two

Grade: 9 Age: 14 --------------------------------- As sure as you are that spring comes after winter, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and seconds turn into minutes, you know you are in love with Joel Farabee. Not the gushy “I want to hug you and kiss you and never let you go” love, the intense “I want to burst at the seams because I just want to scream it on the rooftops and tell you and it literally crushes my heart that I can’t” love.

Yeah, that love.

The problem?

You were only fourteen when you knew.

Yes, the grand old age of fourteen. The age you were supposed to be nervously texting multiple boys, wondering if you were going to be asked to the ninth grade dance and worrying about who your first kiss was going to be, or even the first person you were going to hold hands with.

It started on the first day of school, but the start of it all was less than romantic. You shuffled up the hallway with one of your best friends, your feet felt like lead.

“What’s wrong?” Luna whispered in your ear.

“I really hate math,” you huffed. It was the last period of the day, eighth period, and you had to spend it in what was probably going to be a room full of rambunctious athletes who would be itching to burst out of the room at the very sound of the bell. How did you know this? Because you had been stuck in a class like that ever since the beginning of middle school. It made for some laughs, yes, but for some reason a pessimistic attitude bitterly swarmed around you in dark circles. Also, math in general made you anxious, and it didn’t help that the last few years you had to fend for yourself because of your lack of friends in said class.

“Well, at least you’ll have me this year,” Luna attempted to reassure you and your looming anxiety.

“Yeah, but I wonder who’s going to be in our class this year,” you mumbled. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies, but you’d rather call them icky moths.

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but you reached the door frame before her. Before you could even make it through the entrance, you made eye contact with a group of rowdy boys sitting at a table directly in front of you. You stopped dead in your tracks. They paused in their shouting to turn and look at you and Luna, since you were only about seven or eight feet away.

You scanned their faces, and you recognized most of them. They were mostly hockey players that played for the local team that looked for a shot at the NTDP in just a few short years. It was Syracuse, hockey was a pretty big deal there. There was also the prospective varsity quarterback and his star wide-receiver, these labels given to them at just fourteen. Of course, more athletes. Suddenly, you locked eyes with this boy you strangely have never seen before. His hand was hovering in air over his friend’s head with what you could only assume is his friend’s pencil in a lame attempt to keep him from grabbing it.

He blinked a few times, and you might have blinked a few times, you honestly couldn’t remember.

You snapped out of your trance and looked over to the board that said, “Welcome class! Pick your seats for the first day!”

“Hey,” Luna nudged you and grabbed your arm, “let’s sit over there.”

She lead you to a table adjacent to the boys’ table, despite your unheard protests of being “too close” to them.

You took your seat huffing, and you pulled out your binder and got ready for class, something you wished the crazy boys would pick up on. Thankfully the bell rang, your teacher shut the door, and class began.

That’s the first time you saw him. Not very eventful, but hey, you two were awkward fourteen year olds just entering grade nine. Of course things were not going to be all fireworks and love at first sight.

---------------------------------

A few classes went by, and the only disturbance that occurred was when the class was taking one of those horrible diagnostic tests. See, you really hated disturbances, interruptions, anything relating to that matter.

So when this dude named Joel (you learned his name when he was yelled at for playing rap music in the middle of class) started fooling around with his friend while you were trying to figure out why letters were in math now, you weren’t happy, to say the least.

And when he locked eyes with you and made a silly face, yours did not move in a rather unamused manner. You simply blinked and looked back down at your test.

You missed his face slightly fall, but it was short lived when the teacher yelled his name from across the room and made everyone jump ten feet. He was quiet after that.

---------------------------------

It was a random Tuesday in late October.

You and Luna were chatting about your previous classes, until you both stopped in your tracks and you raised an eyebrow. Everyone in your class was standing up and congregating away from tables. You could hear the ominous music creeping over everyone’s heads.

“Oh no,” you whined to Luna.

She winced. “We’re being assigned seats, aren’t we?”

You nodded. You both stood in the sea of kids and awaited your fate.

“Alright, everyone,” your teacher said. “You guys have been extremely chatty lately.” She paused to side-eye Joel and his friends.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it when she frowned.

“So you leave me no choice, but I must assign seats,” she dramatically said as she unveiled the new seating chart on the board.

Everyone pushed and shoved to the front to see where their name lied in the cards of fate. You heard some soft celebrations and loud protests.

You nudged your way in and scanned up and down the board. Luna wasn’t at the same table, but she was sitting facing towards you at another table. Hopefully you and her would be able to make eye contact. You scanned until you see your name fall right next to someone who you would rather forget you treated so poorly. It was there in bright, bold red.

Joel Farabee.

“Aw man,” you and a voice said in unison. You looked up at your side to see that it’s him. Oh dear brother. Did you both just admit out loud that you don’t want to sit next to each other? You and him rolled your eyes at each other, huffing that you’ll be forced to be in each other’s presence.

And you knew he was thinking some sort of variation of what you were: how dare your teacher.

You trudged over to your seat and plopped down. He threw down his stuff and sat next to you. You could sense his extreme dislike for your rather serious demeanor. Hey, you could crack a smile.

Just not around him. And for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. It’s almost like if you did, you knew you would never stop...

You both avoided eye contact, you played with your pencil as he yelled to one of his friends across the classroom about some stupid video game.

And that’s just how it was for weeks. You’d both come in, sit down, he’d scream to his friends, you’d fight shooting him a really dirty look.

Until one day, you accidentally did. Now, later when you told Luna, you swore up and down you didn’t mean to, and it was just the fact that seventh period gym was terrible (but when was it not). Okay, so maybe you were fed up with him yelling about whatever rap song came out, or whatever Instagram model popped up on his feed (that made you shutter).

But what you did wasn’t really admittedly the nicest.

“Joel, do you always have to yell so freaking loudly?” you snapped.

He feigned a stunned expression, or maybe he really meant it, who knows what goes on in that boy’s seemingly empty head.

“Do you have to be such a downer…like all the time? Kinda ruins the vibe bro.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Joel, because the number one thing I care about is ruining your ‘vibe’,” you put that word in air quotes, “and not getting any work done in this class, bro.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Look, you could benefit from loosening up a little, you know? You’re kind of just, not a fun person.”

A look of real hurt flashed across your face. One that he caught. “No,” you punctually state. Then you turn your seat so you completely have your back to him and you’re facing the board.

Meanwhile Luna and your table-mates watched the whole situation unfold. Okay, and maybe most of the class.

And when the bell rang and he called your name, you simply decided you didn’t hear it.

“He’s calling you,” Luna prodded.

You just shook your head as you continued down the hallway to the bus. On the bus, you had some thinking to do.

Did he really think of you as...boring? You usually didn’t let the immature words of boys get to you, but this, this really hurt.

---------------------------------

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Luna insisted that evening while lying on your bedroom floor that same Friday evening.

“Yes he did, and he’s kind of right,” you begrudgingly conceded. “I haven’t been the nicest to him,” you sigh into your hands, “and maybe I should be.”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” Luna curiously asked.

“I, I don’t know.”

---------------------------------

The following Monday, you winced and leaned into Luna as you approached the classroom. To say you were terrified is an understatement.

But you took a deep breath, held your head high, and locked your face into a neutral expression. You never let anyone get the best of you, and you weren’t going to let Joel out of all people be one of the first.

Luna offered a small sympathetic smile as she made her way to her seat.

Your heart beated out of your chest anticipating his arrival. Sure enough, you caught him out of the corner of your eye. He took his time and strutted around the room to talk to all the friends he had. He was obviously looking to avoid you, too.

Coward.

Eventually, he made his way to his seat. He cleared his throat, but you didn’t budge. Ever heard of being saved by the bell?

“I’m going to hand back everyone’s quizzes from last class,” your teacher announced. You audibly groaned. That quiz did not go well. Who puts diamonds and boxes and something called factoring in math?

Sure enough, she shoved a C- into your sweaty hands.

“Dang,” you whispered.

You glanced over at Joel’s paper. 100%.

Are you kidding me?

His prying eyes had the audacity to spot your C-, as if you didn’t pry on his paper seconds before.

“That’s rough,” he said, trying to make eye contact with you.

“I- um, yeah, it is,” you choked out with your eyes still glued on your paper.

His heart broke when he heard your wavering voice. He had to do something.

“Can I see it?” He quietly asked, when quiet usually isn’t typically his demeanor.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Uh, sure?”

He took the paper and started drawing stars around the C- mark, very messily, may you add.

You went to take the paper back, but he moved it away from your grasp.

“One second,” he pleaded. He stuck his tongue out in concentration.

You tried to see how badly he was defacing your quiz, but the position of his arm prohibited you from peering over to see.

“Done,” he proudly said as he slid the paper back over to you.

Instead of a plain old C-, there was now...a C- with stars around it.

“Joel, this is very lovely and all, but why the stars around the C-?”

He smiled with his sickeningly sweet toothless grin, and your heart absolutely backflipped into oblivion.

“That’s not a C-,” he goofily joked, “that’s the moon, y/n,” he said through a smile. “See it?”

You looked up from your paper and looked at him in the eye. Your hands shook from adrenaline, your heart was fluttering, goodness, you didn’t know how you could feel any lighter.

That smile was going to be the death of you.

“Yeah, Joel,” you cracked a smile, “I do see it. Thank you,” you sincerely said.

Crack a smile.

You cracked a smile.

His heart skipped a beat. He knew instantly he was going to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face for as long as possible. He didn’t care what he would have to do.

He smiled once more, and he turned to his buddies to shield his face from you. He didn’t want you to see how red it was turning. He proceeded to explain to them how perfect his stars were and how no one could top them. Something along the lines of “Bro, you have to see this one, it’s so perfect bro…” He also told them how he made you feel better while slapping his chest, for some reason, as in yeah, I made the mopiest girl in school smile. He sounded like he was priding himself on it.

His smile, the way he talked about you, those freaking stars. You’d let him draw those all over your arm instead any day.

At that age, you may not have known why there were letters in algebra, but you knew that the way he made you feel wasn't the same as you did with your two other crushes back in middle school. This just felt...absolutely weird.

But absolutely right.

And that’s the story of how at just fourteen years old, you knew you were absolutely screwed.

[spasmsofthought]

milk + instagram live (t.h.)

I traveled to London (and Oxford), England in March of 2019 for my spring break my sophomore year of university, so some things mentioned here are entirely from personal experience, so please don’t hate me if you’ve experienced something different! I stayed at a hotel in between West Kensington and West Brompton (a few blocks away from West Brompton Station) and one day some family members and I decided to attend a local showing at a cinema nearby and it was SO. DIFFERENT. than the theaters I had been to in the States. IDK, maybe it was just me. The entire experience was like culture shock again in the few days I had been there, so I had to bring that up in this little piece. Also the thing about milk is something I have genuinely wondered about, cause I’ve heard it’s different in England than it is in the USA, but I may be wrong. Let me know! Anyways, I have big love for London (and supreme love for Oxford, sorry) and I’m looking forward to going back someday soon! 

The reader is non-celebrity and American, so I’m sorry if that feels exclusionary to any of you, honestly! I thought this might be just a little fun jaunt because I don’t really write real person fiction. Just a bit of fluff. 

Sorry for this long intro. Enjoy and let me know what you think! xo  

Word Count: ~1.5k 

+ + + 

It’s some sort of exclusive interview for a magazine or something of the sort, you’ve been told; a collection of questions they want you to answer to publish somewhere, to print as something special for one of Tom’s things. That’s all you know. It’s just something you agreed to do after his publicist had asked a few weeks ago. It wasn’t like you did this for a living, so there was an attitude of nonchalance about it all because if they ended up not liking it one bit, they could scrap it all and no harm, no foul. 

“Now,” the interviewer begins, a man in his 40′s with balding hair and a slightly crooked nose, sitting in the chair across from you, “I know you just announced that you got married, so congratulations, firstly--” 

“Oh, thank you,” hands folded on your lap, smiling sweetly. You know people want their well-wishes to be heard and recorded, but sometimes it’s easy to imagine a completely private life, fame free, in which this isn’t the biggest news in the world (or just the biggest news for a day in the entertainment industry in the United States and England); a life where this is just a normal thing that normal people decide on, there’s a celebration, and that’s really it. It’s not splashed on newspapers and trending on Twitter, even though that can be a fun thing. 

“I’ve been really happy these last few months since we got married and was excited to tell all of Tom’s Instagram followers,” there’s a break for a small laugh from you, “There’s been such an abundance of well wishes from everyone and I’ve felt so incredibly lucky because I know not every woman who has been in my position has recieved such a reception.” 

The interviewer gives a move of his head in recognition of your words, but his eyes are already flying down the paper he holds in front of him, “There have been quite a few changes that have happened, I’ve been informed, and the first is that you decided to move to London!” 

“Ha, yes,” you begin, nodding, “Not only did I just completely intertwine my life with another person’s, but I moved to an entirely new country. There’s definitely a lot of culture shock that has happened these past few months.” 

The interviewer kind of chortles along with you, but the awkwardness has already settled in and you can feel it because you are the literal worst at small talk. And that’s all this interview is. 

“Any cons you’ve listed already about residing here amongst us?” 

“Oh no,” you groan dramatically, trying to lighten up the mood, a hand coming to cover your eyes for a moment, “you have to promise not to tell my husband, because I do have a few things actually.” 

“I make no promises, as this interview will be completely up for grabs,” The man holds up his hands and you’re a little disappointed that he doesn’t seem to want to play along with the joke. 

You brush it off, though, because he’s either nervous or he’s here for a few questions to be answered and then he wants to be out of here. You get it; you have a job, too, that sometimes squeezes the patience out of you. 

“Well for one, the local cinemas are just set up so different than the ones I went to all the time in the States. I still have to prepare myself for the experience every time,” there’s a little bit of an awkward pause. 

“We have different cinemas?” He asks, like he’s suspecting something more; something deeper. Maybe he wants something more scandalous? You nod along, though, smiling softly at his confusion. It has always felt funny trying to explain this. 

“And I miss people smiling at me in public, on the tube or in the more crowded public spaces where I don’t really know anyone. People are literally so lovely when they invite me into their homes to eat with them and stuff like that, but I’ve only got one reaction from someone for smiling at them. Most of them just stare for a second or ignore me entirely! I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.” 

He shrugs, not quite sure what to say to that, because he’s not at fault for it. It seems most people know what you’re talking about when you say this and you’ve garnered that it’s a cultural thing for the most part. You don’t fault anyone for it. 

“Also,” your hand comes to scratch at a place above your left eyebrow, “I know this is weird, and I don’t even know if it’s entirely true, but I haven’t drank milk in the months since I’ve moved here because I heard in America that milk is made differently here or something like that. I haven’t been able to gather up the courage to find out if it’s true or not, and I mostly drink water or juice or whatever else so my husband hasn’t bat an eye yet. I just don’t want to ruin my previous experience with milk,” You shrug your shoulders and laugh. Your hands come unclasped and you hold them out in a surrender-like gesture. 

Your final answer seems to startle the interviewer, because his laugh is surprised and maybe a bit shocked and leaves just as quickly as it came. The rest of the short conversation, lasting only a few more minutes, continues smoothly. After sitting around in the office for a little while longer, you are free from the place and from (hopefully) ever having to do this again without Tom. Your schedule is blissfully empty for the rest of the day, a Saturday, so you eventually make your way home. 

- - 

“What’s this I hear about your fear of English milk?” The door opens first and then the voice follows. 

Of course, that would be the first thing he says to you after a whole day of not seeing each other. 

“Good evening, darling, how was your day?” You quip from the couch, what’s left of your cup of tea gone cold on the coffee table parallel to it. “Oh my day was fine, Tom. I’m glad you’re the one who does the regular rounds with the press, not me, because I was so awkward today. How was yours?” 

You hear his keys clink against something, probably the kitchen counter, and then the rustle of a bag. It takes a second but then you see his hands grip to top of the sofa as he leans down towards you. There’s a quick kiss that comes before he rights himself. The marital bliss has not faded away yet given that adoring look in his eyes. It is the same look he gave you standing right across from you the day of your wedding, the same one you saw four months ago on your honeymoon, and the one he gave you last night while getting ready for bed as he brushed his teeth. 

“I got something from the shop on my way home,” He wiggles his eyebrows and you know some part of you saw this coming from a mile away. 

You know now that the shop means the grocery store because a few months ago you had asked him what the term meant (“it’s so vague, though,” “darling, I’m not going to waste my breath calling it the ‘grocery store.’”). (There are still many British terms you have yet to learn.) You allow yourself to sit up and then turn around to meet him as your knees come to dig into the cushions. Now you both are almost at the same height. 

“God, I hate you,” You chuckle, leaning towards him. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, love,” You roll your eyes but then press an elongated kiss to his lips. There’s a few moments where he gets some in down your neck and behind your ear before he pulls away. 

“C’mon,” He says, pulling your arms and almost vaulting you over the couch and onto the cold, hard floor, “to the kitchen we go! You need to drink some milk.” It takes a few more minutes for you both to actually get there, but then he grabs the carton from the bag and a glass from a kitchen cupboard. 

He pours a little at the bottom of the glass, not even filling it up a quarter of the way. Part of you wants to shudder, part of you is feeling adventurous enough to be excited. But then he pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans and asks if he can go live on Instagram. For a moment you consider saying no, simply because you’re not sure if you want to open yourself up to the world of Tom’s Instagram followers watching you try your first taste of non-American milk, but then you decide “why not?” It can’t do any real harm, right? 

Tom hands the glass to you and you place it on the counter in front of you as you sit down at a stool. You can see the moment on his face the live video starts and a second later he quickly explains the situation. 

It does not take you much longer to become a viral internet meme.  

[adhoption]

I’m reading another book with a protagonist in the ‘gentle giant’ mould, and I’m realising how it’s gone from being a something I vibe with to something that rubs me up the wrong way.

You know the type. The guy is a himbo. He’s built like a man-mountain, but he is generous and kind and considerate to the ladies in a setting whilst others aren’t. He’s in a world where strength is power, and plenty of men are willing to start fights, but he can step in and sit them down. He could beat everyone up if he wanted to throw his weight around, but he doesn’t. He only fights when he has to.

That’s pointed out like some sort of contradiction: look, this guy could be violent like the others and be great at it, but he’s decided to be good instead. Isn’t it great, how he's overcome his nature? Born into the body of a thug, but choosing to be a decent person? He is always pitted against cruel, bitter little men, and that contrast is also pointedly made. See, they are born into pacifist bodies and choose to be violent, whereas he is born into a violent body and chooses peace. Isn’t it a miracle?

Except that it’s really the other way around.

Perhaps it’s easier to be violent when you’re a giant, but it’s also easier to be gentle. If everybody already respects you as this hulking presence and backs down when you stand up to them, you don’t need to fight. People only need to fight when they aren’t respected as a threat, and need to prove it. When you’re walking around in a big happy cloud of strength and confidence, it’s also a lot easier to be kind and patient than if you were downtrodden and miserable.

I’ve always found that it is far easier to be magnanimous in victory than gracious in defeat. It’s much easier for the person in the privileged, happy position to extend a hand to the person hurting than the other way around. We cover that in social justice discourse all the time. It’s easier for the person on top of the oppression dynamic to say they are being rational rather than emotional. It’s wrong for them to tone-police someone who is understandably angry and fed-up with what they have to deal with every day, just because they’re shielded from those issues and can talk about them casually.

But it’s something that social justice adjacent spaces also struggle with. I’ve seen too many Hollywood actors paraded out to lecture men on how to be a feminist ally, as if these handsome, rich, famous guys have any shared life experience with the incels who actually need their words. As if they have any idea how their hatred is formed in insecurity and jealously, desperation for affection and validation life has never given them, when they have lived a life beloved and showered in more attention - including romantic and sexual - than they know what to do with. 

Or you get a similar thing with popular, mainstream celebrities coming out to condemn online trolling. It reminds me of a high school setting, where people are oblivious to the various forms of bullying. Imagine there’s one guy in a class who is perhaps neuroatypical, perhaps from a poor household, always seen as a bit shabby and weird. The other kids exclude him. The popular kid invites everyone in the class to a party apart from him. There is one empty chair in the classroom, and it’s the one next to him. Nobody wants to sit with him at lunch. At breaks they gossip in closed circles, occasionally laughing and turning around to look at him.

Nobody ‘bullies’ him in any tangible way that can be shown. But it hurts, day after day after day, being the creepy gross guy who nobody wants to talk to, the guy with no friends. Perhaps he starts acting out for attention. Perhaps, not able to be socialised properly, he lacks tact and hasn’t had his rough edges smoothed off by human company. Maybe he becomes a real edgelord and starts making offensive comments and lashing out because it’s the only way people will listen. He will then be called the class bully, when in fact the whole class are also sort of bullying him through exclusion.

Having some pop darling come out and criticise the online versions of these people is about as much use as having the high school prom king, the guy who hosted that party but everyone but one, come out and condemn this loner: the person people like him helped to ostracise in the first place as a weirdo who didn’t fit in. Again, they have no shared life experience they can judge them on, and coming out to gloat that they have the privilege to be magnanimous in victory is... well, literally adding insult to injury.

But that’s the dynamic stories seem to love. Villains who are pathetic and friendless and have no love in their life, small ugly men with a deformity or disability or just neurodivergence, compared to our hero who is handsome and popular and who then lectures the villain on the power of friendship! But he villain is probably the way they are because they have never been properly loved and always felt like an outcast. it’s criticising the upset loser by praising how well behaved the winner is, when it’s easier for them! In fact, if their lives were reversed, just as with the incel and the Hollywood hunk, they would probably have radically different attitudes and personalities.

I used to buy into the idea that this gentle giant was some sort of contradiction in personality and form, but as I’ve gained life experience I’ve found that the two are basically aligned. What would be more interesting is a character who is feeble, vulnerable, trampled by life, and who still finds the inner strength to be kind. A character who is judged and scorned and mocked and belittled, but who chooses peace. A character who is rejected and excluded, but who still chooses to smile and be friendly. 

That’s what takes real steel, to wake up every day and choose to be kind when you get nothing in return. Not being a strong, charismatic hero surrounded by love interests and sidekicks, getting patted on the back that they somehow manage to be a decent human being despite all of that privilege and love and validation. When that’s contrasted with those villains, it just feels like punching down.