#this book was alright in retrospect

[valravn72]

WAIT JUST DID A DOUBLE TAKE THIS IS PSALM FOR THE WILD BUILT? I READ THAT FUCK YEAH!

I've read most of Becky Chamber's books.

Some of them vary in quality but I still do recommend them.

One of my favorite scenes is one in which a human and some of her alien friends are walking past someone handing out pamphlets for an extremist group that wants to rehabilitate earth and is also incredibly xenophobic towards aliens and they offer to show her an orchid to try to spark her passion for a planet she's never seen and she's avoiding them because they are politically fucked but one of her alien friends steps up and says she wants to see the flower. The person with the pamphlets is unsure but shows it to her.

She says that it's really beautiful before pausing dramatically and then saying "isn't this what human genitals look like?"

Honestly I would read her work just to witness the glory of that moment.

Also her world building is insanely good and she spends a lot of time going over the ramifications of interacting with different alien species and their cultures on human perspectives.

I cannot accurately explain how damn good this woman is at making believable futuristic cultures that are so diverse and interesting it makes me so excited.

Fun fact! Psalm For the Wild Built is one of (if not the first) the first books to ever be written with Solarpunk in mind as a sci fi genre.

Also, nonbinary protagonist!!!! <3 It pissed people off in the reviews because they said the pronouns were hard on their little brains haha we are winning >:)

Anyway, I think she's pretty cool and you should check her out if you're interested.

Thanks to OP for emphasizing and spreading this line, as a chronically ill person it makes me go :>

Also thank you for the gorgeous edit and mmm kitty cat pretty.

....Am I using Tumblr correctly or is this just thought vomit

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 2)

James Potter x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), switch james? brief fingering, heavy making out, i love this smut w my heart

summary: you proceed with the second part of your plan. james potter.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m so bad at writing summaries i’m sorry, i promise it’s worth it lol. i suppose this could be a stand off but i like reading them in order. hope you enjoy :) also ps if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry grammarly told me it was fine but i don’t fully trust that hoe smh

~~~

James Potter was a different story. He thought of himself as a gentleman though not many seventeen-year-olds were gentlemen. He thought this solely because he was nothing like his best mate. He had to at least know a girl's name before taking her to bed. Though, he typically liked to know a bit more than just that. So, in order to shag James Potter, one must abide by a few more rules than with dear Sirius Black. One, she must be friendly. Two, she must have some knowledge of quidditch. Three, she must be willing to stroke his massive ego despite how humiliating it may be. And four, the most important rule, she must be ready to play along with his games. Because James Potter was a chaser in all senses. And oh, how he loved a good chase.

~~~

You peak around the corner of one of the hallways, a bit out of breath. You just ran down a few flights of stairs to get here. For a few seconds you search the hallway, then he appears. He’s alone. Good.

It’s been two weeks since your night with Sirius, and it hasn’t been easy. You regret your whole show of making him remember your name, it’s caused more harm than good. But it felt good in the moment, it felt more than good. Shagging Sirius all together became your best shag the second he pressed you against the wall and kissed you till you were out of breath. You regret picking him first. In retrospect though, you had no idea how much he’d care for a second time. He’s always been known as a one-nighter. It’s been hard having to deny him, and it’s been hard convincing him that he has you mistaken for another girl. But you’ve managed.

You feel bad about it, but you try not to pay it much mind as the second part of your plan is about to begin.

You clutch your books to your chest and begin to walk down the hallway, your face down. You know what his shoes look like. So, when they begin to come closer you loosen your grip on your books and shift your body ever so slightly so that you’re in his way. Inevitably, the two of you bump into each other, and your books quickly fall to the floor.

“Shit,” you say as you fall to your knees to start gathering your things.

“Sorry love, didn’t see you there. Let me help,” he replies, crouching down in front of you.

You look at him. “Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either.” He laughs, handing you one of your papers. His eyes linger on yours. “I think I know you.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, I do. You’re the girl my mate Sirius thinks he shagged.”

You look away, pretending to be flustered. “I don’t know why he’s so set on me. I mean, I was at that party, but I went back to my dorm with my friend. And I think I’d remember a night with him you know, with his reputation.”

“Yeah, I dunno, he tends to get hammered and forget a lot,” he says. You look back at him and watch as he runs one of his hands through his dark curls. A habit of his. “I’m sure he’ll stop bothering you soon enough.”

“Yes, when the next girl is in his bed,” you reply. The two of you share a laugh and you pick up your last paper. You hold them close to your chest and stand, he follows. “Well thanks for helping, you’re very kind.”

He smiles that brilliant smile of his. “It’s only right.”

You return the smile. “I’ve got to get to class thanks again James.”

“You know my name? Are you one of my adoring fans?”

He’s smirking now, his arms folded across his chest. His ego is taking over. Perfect.

You shyly look down for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. “Isn’t everyone a fan of the famous chaser from Gryffindor?”

“You’d be surprised how many aren’t.”

“Well, that lot must simply consist of fools.” You look down at your watch. “Seems I’m going to be a bit late to history of magic. ‘Suppose it’s alright, I don’t care for it much anyway. But I best be going, wouldn’t want to keep you from your class.”

“That’s quite kind of you y/n,” he says.

You raise a brow. “Oh? Do you happen to be one of my adoring fans?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps Sirius has been talking our ears off about you.”

“I think I like the first answer better.”

He smirks. “I see. It was nice running into you then. Literally.”

“Yes, it was.” You step past him, your eyes lingering on him for a few more seconds. “Goodbye then James.”

“Goodbye y/n.”

You leave fast with a smile on your face.

Phase one is complete.

~~~

For the next two weeks, you have more of those run ins with James. Each time having a different reaction. Some end in a sweet goodbye, some end with you barely acknowledging him at all, and some end in a quick walk through the halls together. You know how it messes with his head. One day you’re a girl who strokes his ego with flattering compliments, and another day you brush past him as if he doesn’t exist. By the sixth encounter, you relish in the knowledge that he’s starting to bump into you. Not the other way around.

“I’m starting to get Sirius. I suppose he wishes it was you that he shagged.”

The two of you are walking alone, not another person is in the hall. You look up at him, your cheeks flushing when you find him already looking down at you. He runs his hand through his hair. You hate how it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You turn your head away.

“I don’t know why he would wish that with me.”

“I could name a few reasons,” he says.

You’ve stopped walking at this point. You turn your body to face him, another shy smile on your face. James Potter is such a charmer. You’ve known this. Yet his words affect you as if you have no idea about his reputation of being a flirt.

This is bad, you think.

It’s been hard enough resisting the urge to take Sirius up on another night together, even harder keeping up the lie that it never happened. You should stop this before it gets any worse, you know that. However, from the look James is giving you, you know you won't be able to stop this no matter how hard you try.

“Yeah?” You eventually challenge. “What reasons might those be Mr. Potter?”

“For starters, you are incredibly fit.” You watch his eyes trail up and down your body for a few seconds before returning to yours. “You’re kind, you’re funny, you make your interest noticeable, but you aren’t desperate.”

“I never claimed to be interested in you though, that’s an assumption.” You point out.

He takes a step closer to you, your breath catches in your throat. “So, if I were to, I dunno, snog you right now, you wouldn’t be pleased?”

Despite everything in your head screaming at you to snap out of it and push him away for the plan's sake, you can’t. No matter how hard you plan it seems that James Potter’s charm outdoes it. You don’t dare to move a muscle.

“I’m not sure, you might have to test and see.”

He takes another step. “I don’t want to be hexed though, if this experiment ends in the possibility of you not liking it.”

You take a step forward. The two of you are so close you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Probability and possibility are different you know.”

He lifts one of his hands to your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. “So, it’s a possibility that you’ll push me off and hex me, and it’s a probability that you’ll...”

“Snog you harder.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll take my chances then.”

He begins to lean his head down, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning yours up, meeting him halfway. The first few seconds are gentle. You like how soft his lips are, how you can taste the mint chap stick on them. But once that initial new feeling fades so does the gentleness.

Within a few short minutes you’re no longer standing in the middle of a hallway being kissed as if it were your first. Instead, you’re pressed against the wall in a broom closet, with your shirt half unbuttoned and James Potter’s hand up your skirt. Your head falls back against the stone as he sucks the sweet spot on your neck, his thumb rubbing perfect circles on your clit. You run your hands through his curls, they’re just as soft as you expected.

“James,” you moan.

“Yes love?”

You struggle to catch your breath. “I don’t- we can’t- fuck.”

“Hm?” He presses his thumb down harder; you feel your orgasm approaching. “You alright?”

“Yes- just don’t stop,” you reply.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Whatever you want.”

It’s safe to say, after that, phase two is completed.

~~~

Another week passes before you reach phase three. You don’t know why but playing James’s game is awfully fun. You know you’ve got him, and he knows he’s got you, but neither of you will say it. So, before anything can move too far in the closets, one of you stops it with an excuse and the other doesn’t question it. Part of you keeps it going because you want him to say the words, and another part of you keeps it going because deep down you don’t want it to be over yet.

But everything must end eventually.

The game's ending comes on a quiet Friday night. James catches you after dinner, dragging you off to one of the now familiar closets. He wastes no time, instantly pressing his lips to yours the second the door closes. There’s a desperation on his lips you haven’t felt before, it excites you. Naturally, you kiss him back, your hands moving up to his hair, his moving down to your waist.

Only a few seconds pass like this, then he pulls back. You can barely see his eyes through the darkness, but what you can see tells you something different is going to happen. He’s starving and you are more than happy to give him a taste.

“Can I have you y/n?” He whispers.

“Have me?”

He nods, his hands roaming up your sides. You shiver. “I need it, need you. Now.”

“You can have me, as long as you promise to keep this between us.” You place your hands on his shoulders and push him till his back hits one of the walls. “We wouldn’t want Sirius to be jealous that you actually got to shag me. You haven’t told any of them about this have you?”

“I have not, and I won’t. I swear,” he answers. “You can trust me.”

You smile and press a small kiss to his lips before lowering yourself to your knees. “I know I can. You’re a very sweet guy James and for that I’m going to show my appreciation.”

“You don’t have to-”

You begin to undo his belt. “I want to.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You unzip his trousers and pull away the fabric. You’re not surprised to find him already hard. You also aren’t surprised at how big he is. From the girls you’ve known to have shagged him, only good things came from them. You don’t waste any more time. You take him in your mouth and as far down your throat as possible. Blow jobs have never been your favorite activity, but from the sound that leaves James’s lips you know you’ll enjoy this specific one.

And you do.

You don’t know how much time passes by the time he’s cumming down your throat, but you do know you’ve enjoyed every moment. He moans your name louder than he should, his fingers tangled in your hair as he cums. Typically, you’d spit but this time you swallow. When you’re sure he’s done you pull back and rise, whipping your drool with the back of your hand.

James is breathless when he reaches for you. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you, nor to return the favor. Your legs shake as he buries his face between them, licking and sucking your clit at a perfect rhythm. It’s not long before it’s your turn to come undone due to his mouth. You have to hold yourself up on the wall as you finish, you practically see stars.

You pull him back up a minute later and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you once again and you savor the taste of yourself on his lips. It’s like a prize. And a memory you will forever cherish.

“Fuck me James,” you whisper eventually. “Like you mean it.”

“Your wish is my command,” he replies.

His hands fall to your thighs, and he lifts you up. You comply, wrapping your legs around his waist as he positions his hard again cock at your entrance. He enters you slowly, both of you savoring the feeling. He stretches you in an indescribable way that makes your toes curl. You hold him tight as he begins to fuck you.

Due to his active role in quidditch, his stamina is very built. He fucks you through two more orgasms before he even begins to show a sign of finishing. Tears role down your cheeks from the overstimulation, he asks you if you want to stop. You shake your head. He continues. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. When he does eventually finish, he fills you up, his dick pulsing inside you.

He holds you tight after, his face tucked in your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, his breath ragged. “I think I’d like to keep you.”

In this moment, you forget about your plan, and you turn your head to press a soft kiss to his sweaty head.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

~~~

As you lie in bed that night with your diary in hand, a fresh checkmark next to James’s name, you wonder how you’re supposed to go on to the next part. Too many emotions have gotten involved from you, James, and Sirius. You know adding another person into the mix will only cause further issues. However, you also did save the best for last. Intentionally. At least, you think so anyway. James and Sirius have given you times you didn’t know you could ever have.

But then your eyes trail over the last name again.

Remus Lupin.

The show must go on.

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: You find a love letter for you but the wrong guy; Hitoshi regrets only signing with his initials. A/N: The author wrote this sleep deprived, dehydrated, in the dark and completely running on an adrenaline rush so please excuse the sloppy work... WARNINGS: Minor IzuOcha, probably OOC Shinsou

“Stop denying it, Ochaco-chan! We can all see Midoriya lo-o-o-o-oves you!”

You giggled, using the books you were clutching as a shield from Ochaco’s attempt at slapping a hand over your mouth. She gave up and hid her red face instead. “We’re just friends!”

“But I saw you so jealous that day, are you sure about that?” You hum slyly, bumping her shoulder. The both of you stop in front of your locker, a quick stop before heading back to class. The hallways were buzzing with chatter about the recent UA sports festival, but you were more interested in what you had seen that day.

“Huh? When?!”

You haphazardly shoved your books into your locker then tapped a finger against your chin, playing dumb and pretending to think. “I dunno, maybe when Hatsume from the support course and Midoriya were talking? I’m sure he thinks her ‘babies’ are cute!”

“Wait, really?” Ochaco groaned, momentarily forgetting her denying before her eyes widened. “I mean, not that I care! Her babies - I mean her inventions are pretty creative!���

“But I’m sure Midoriya thinks you’re cuter~” You teased, using your hip to close your locker door, gleefully watching your friend blush and stutter. “But if you both ever get together, I’m your wingman, alright? He doesn’t look like he could hold your hand without having a panic attack, but if he does anything wrong no one will ever find his-”

“Eh, enough!” Ochaco just about yelled, this time successfully slapping a hand over your mouth. “It’s not like that! It’s - oh, you dropped something. Let me pick it up for you!”

“Huh? A paper - oh, wait, no, it’s an envelope?” Your name was written in neat handwriting at the back, leaving no doubt to you and Ochaco that this was for you, but at the same time you don’t remember ever seeing such a thing in your life.

“A letter? Who could it be from?” Ochaco leaned over your shoulder to read as you slipped a slightly crumpled note out.

I think you’re one of the prettiest girls at UA - the prettiest, really, with an amazing personality and talent to match. I’ve liked you since the first day, but watching you at the sports festival really sealed the deal. You’re practically on my mind all the time and just seeing you is enough to make my day - I could stare you forever and never get bored with what I see. Every time we pass by I really want talk to you, but I’m not really sure how to confess, so I hope this note will do.

-H.S.

“A LOVE LETTER? Oh my gosh, it’s so cute and romantic! You’re so lucky!” Ochaco began to shake your shoulders eagerly. “Who could it be from? Our class or 1B?”

“I have no idea, what do you think?” Your finger brushed over the oddly sweet words, your heart thumping a little faster. Judging by the heat in your cheeks you must be blushing too. “H.S….I wonder who could that be?”

“Not a lot of people have those initials,” Ochaco pointed out. “There isn’t a lot of people with names starting with H either.”

“I guess that narrows it down to…” You scrunched up your forehead, deep in thought. “I know there’s Hiryu from 1B, but then it should be H.R. instead of S. No one else in 1B.”

“Huh, then it must be from our class!” Ochaco exclaimed. You both turned to look at each other at once, the same idea ringing in your heads . “There’s only one H there too!”

“Hanta Sero?!”

***

In retrospect perhaps that note was terribly written and - he winced - cringey.

Serve Hitoshi right for writing it at 2 a.m. in the morning, sleep deprived, dehydrated, in the dark and completely running on nothing but an adrenaline rush. The same rush he’d get every time he’d spot you in the hallways that would create just a little smile on his deadpan expression.

Hitoshi wouldn’t be surprised if you completely laughed off the note, but he couldn’t help but hope for some other kind of reaction - the kind where you’d get excited and figure out it was him; Hitoshi knew you wouldn’t just fall in love like that but at least he’d get a shot at friendship. When he’d been writing the note and being delusional he’d imagine you’d liked him all this time as well.

But being realistic he knew the best he could hope for was simply a brief interest in the letter’s writer before a polite rejection.

Maybe Hitoshi shouldn’t have signed it like that.

Actually, a bunch of maybe-I-shouldn’t-haves were running through his head so loudly Hitoshi would’ve thought somebody was brainwashing him as he spied on you and Ochaco from a little way off. It was wrong and very creepy, Hitoshi was painfully aware, but the urgent need to just know what your reaction was to his stupid confession was.

Who even confesses through a love letter these days? It was just lame and he didn’t even write it properly. God, he really should have grown a pair, manned up and spoken to you directly-

Something in him melted, probably his heart, into a mushy puddle of lovesickness as Hitoshi watched you giggle quietly reading it, a pink tinge rising. You were always so cute. Even if you rejected the writer just seeing that look would’ve been worth it.

Then you cracked his confidence in half and just about gave him a heart attack.

“Hanta Sero?!”

No, it’s me, Hitoshi nearly shouted. I’m the one who wrote the letter, I’m the one who wants you to know that, I’m the one who looks at you like you hung the moon and stars up in the sky, the one who’s the biggest fan of you and the one who’s your biggest supporter during the sports festival.

And I’m the one falling onto the ground because my legs are jelly and I can’t believe you don’t know me after all and you’re going to go like someone else and I just caused that, Hitoshi wanted to add. Oh god they had the wrong H.S. and his own anxiety wouldn’t let him tell them otherwise.

Hitoshi really shouldn’t have signed it like that.

***

You walked out of the cafe, happy that your date with Sero had gone well but still disappointed.

Not in him, obviously. He had been pretty flattered when someone like you had asked somebody like him out to lunch, as Sero had put it, and in turn you were to that he would think like that. Your time together had passed with nonstop banter and laughter and you could happily call him a friend now, but the both of you had kind of agreed that while you had chemistry it wasn’t the romantic kind. There wasn’t that click.

Also he had been pretty confused when you had alluded to the note, dropping hints that eventually led you to realize he had zero idea of what you were talking about, so embarrassing as it was (hey, the writer meant it for only your eyes, right?…alright, so what if you didn’t want to share this private little sweetness?) you pulled out the letter and handed it to him.

“It’s pretty romantic but I didn’t write that. H.S. sounds familiar though - I mean, not because it’s my initials! I think I remember someone with those initials.”

“You’re not, like, offended I only asked you out because of the note, are you?” You had asked worriedly. That sounded horribly shallow and you were internally panicking everyone would get the wrong idea.

Thankfully Sero laughed it off. “Hey, I’d do the same! I hope you’re not too upset it’s just old me?”

“Of course not!”

So it ended on good terms, even with probably no plans for continuation. Sero’s last words still echoed in your head however, making you walk with your head up in the clouds of deep thought and speculation. “I’ll ask around if anyone knows a H.S. - I think they’re either from the support course or general studies.” You were pretty sure you don’t know anyone from those classes though…

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Embarrassment had you blustering apologies to the poor indigo-haired guy you had just walked into and knocked his coffee cup out of his hand, spilling it all over the sidewalk “I’m sorry, I didn’t see where I was going!”

“It’s fine, calm down,” he said reassuringly, although his drink was anything but. You breathed a sigh of relief that at least it hadn’t made a huge mess on his clothes. “It was an accident anyway.”

“No, but I spilled your coffee-” The same sign on the fallen cup and the one above the shop’s window caught your eye and you brightened. “Hey, how about I buy you another one instead? As an apology. I might as well buy one myself if it’s good.”

His eyebrows rose. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great!” You followed him back into the coffee store and made a beeline to the counter, placing your order and waited for him to choose his. Much to your surprise he gave your name to the barista when asked - had you met him before or something?

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly when he spotted your confused face as you paid. “You’re from UA’s heroes course, right? I go there too, in the general studies course.”

“Wait, you do? What a coincidence!” Your eyes widened as you beamed. “But hey, it’s not fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours!”

“Shinsou,” he offered.

You repeated it. “Suits you.”

“Yours too.” Shinsou took a sip of his drink as he and you walked out of the store. “So, tell me, what’s got you so distracted that you had to make me drop my first coffee?”

“I already made up for that!” You protested to his teasing tone, but then you awkwardly laughed wondering how to explain your thoughts. “Just got back from a date.”

“Oh?” You didn’t see Shinsou’s eye twitch at the mention of that, but he kept his tone casual. “Did it go south or something?”

“No, it’s just - uh, he just wasn’t who I thought it was.” You winced. That didn’t sound right and didn’t even make sense. “I mean I got a confession by note a while ago and I thought it was from him, but it turns out it wasn’t, so I really have no idea now. And maybe I am a little bummed it didn’t go like I thought it would. ”

Shinsou hummed in reply. “That must suck. So you really want to know who wrote the note?”

“Yeah, he was pretty sweet about it.” The shade of pink on your cheeks were threatening to deepen, so you willed yourself to stop thinking about it. Yet something about Shinsou’s friendliness just made you trust him, like him already.

It didn’t help he was also pretty good looking. “I dunno, I’ve just never met a guy who thought so high of me and it was really flattering and nice and all.”

“I see…tell you what.” Shinsou wasn’t really smiling but something in his eye sparkled with excitement. “If you’re up to it, I think this coffee would go well with some cake - and I know a good place.”

You stopped short, blinking while your brain processed his words. You began to giggle; Shinsou was pretty to look at and had an easygoing manner you liked, but you wanted to return his teasing prod from earlier. “Are you asking me out? And why should I say yes? I did just spill your coffee on our first meeting.”

“Well.” Shinsou was a little way ahead of you but stopped and glanced back with a half-smile. “My name’s Hitoshi Shinsou.”

“Oh my god.”

So of course you went on the date with him and he was just as sweet as the dessert.

[cattlemons]

heyy, it’s the anon that sent in the request about wanderer with a reader who has a bad relationship with their father :) if it’s alright maybe i can just go by 💿 anon? i have another kinda personal request, and again if you don’t feel comfortable writing it please let me know. 

I have a control freak mother, who is obsessed with our family looking perfect from the outside. for example, about a year ago i had plans to k!ll myself, and i broke down and told my mom, and her response was taking away my phone, computer, everything that i could communicate to people with. She called me an attention seeker and told me that i wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else about it.  

It can either be new or a continuation of my first request, whatever you feel like writing :) thanks so much, lovely <3

The Weight of A Memory

TW: Suicidal ideation, emotional distress, pretty sure there's a cuss somewhere, 1,7k words

a.n. can be read as a continuation to this but fine as a stand alone. More below for you, 💿anon

“So, you’re saying it can work? Erasing a memory from the Irminsul, I mean,” you prodded the man beside you for what felt like the fiftieth time after his prior admission.

The wanderer’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance as he scoffed at your question; a desperate one he suffixes. 

“I only told you that because it seems plausible but even I don’t know the complexity behind the damn tree,” he hissed before adding a quiet “yet” to the back of his remark. 

“Honestly, I don’t think we can progress anymore on this topic,” the aloof puppet gruffed out, “the best we can do at this point is to abandon the title entirely and find an object much easier to study than the Irminsul. It’s a massive retrospective joke that we thought ‘Selective Memory Alteration via Mental Connection to Irminsul’ would be a good research title. We can’t even get access to the tree, much less experiment on it.”

He’s definitely right, but you can’t bring yourself to agree, not when he just alluded to the possibility. 

“We don’t have to gain direct access, we can just connect through the meditational route, you know, incense and the likes?”

The Wanderer let out a mocking snort as he looked at you like you’d said the most absurd thing he’d ever had the privilege to hear. 

“The ‘meditational route’ you throw around so easily takes years to hone, idiot, it’s not just smelling salts and candles. You’re a researcher of the esteemed Akademiya and this is your idea? I don’t want to be that person but it looks like you’re desperately clinging onto a failed idea.”

On a normal day, you would know well enough that he’s only trying to dissuade you from wasting your time on something pointless but, unfortunately, for both you and him, today has been an absolute shitfest for you. Where you’d normally sigh at his crass way of speaking, today you decide to one-up him and say some rather nasty things as well. 

You suppose it’s only fair that monkeys see, monkeys do. 

But what started off as annoyance quickly turned into genuine anger as more ugly words and defined poison spewed out of what was supposed to be a discussion session on your research. He said some painful things and, admittedly, you did too. It, soon, spiraled out of both of your control as things started getting painful especially when he asked what all this insistence was for. 

“Why are you so hellbent on going through with this title–and don’t you dare tell me it’s just because it interests you! You’re much too smart to make such a lame excuse.”

You were silent as embarrassment leaked from the corner of your eyes because truly you did not know. 

Or, rather, you did. You just didn't want to admit it to him. 

Taking what you hope are your things, you rush out of the grand hall, passing by the walls of books and scrolls. You need to get out of there before it suffocates you alive, whatever ‘it’ may be.

The Avidya Forest is a good ways away from the main city of Sumeru but The Wanderer took it all one stride at a time, all in the name of tracking you down. 

Truthfully, in the empty echoes of the cavity he calls his heart, he feels bad for the things he’s said. He knows he shouldn’t have questioned you too harshly, not when you seemed so unsure of it in the first place, but he needed to know why you wanted this so badly; partially because of the intuition he spent millennials sharpening told him to and the other half because he’s seen this desperation before, back when he donned red, black, and gold. 

He followed the path he’s sure you must’ve taken and started guessing when the beaten path petered off. 

He was right to place his bets on the left fork because he found what he was looking for, albeit not in the condition he was hoping for. 

You were hunched over under a tree, clearly sobbing.

The Wanderer almost scoffs at how pathetic this all was, more so his insistence to come find you than your evident sadness. 

Making sure to step a little louder, he made his presence known. He hopes you’ll extend an olive branch of sorts and start the conversation but he supposes it’s too much to expect such mercy after how the situation unfolded. 

He sat beside you but you made no effort to acknowledge his existence, much less be forgiving. He’s fine with it. If you won’t talk, he’ll just have to talk for the both of you. He’s not particularly good at discerning human emotions but you mirror a certain grief he’s experienced three times too much. So, even though he’s probably extremely behind the curve in expressing human sympathy, he can, at least, offer the empathy of a hurt soul. 

“I don’t know what the fuck happened to you but the divine can’t fix it for you, you know. It’s stupid and damn near fruitless to place your hard-earned hopes on a tree. I don’t know what you’re trying to fix but whatever it is you’re trying to erase, I guarantee it'll bite you back in the end if you do it this way.”

He expected at least another hour-long silence but you took the bait and he’s grateful that you did; even if it did hurt him a bit to see the effects his words had on you. 

“You know what’s stupid? Not telling me how you know all of this. How do you know I'm trying to erase something? How do you know it won’t work? How do you know it can’t fix the hurt I’ve been through? How in all Teyvat do you know forgetting won’t make things better because I am about 99% sure I’d be much happier if I don’t remember the attempts I cry about at night,” you heaved as a wave of heaviness you did not know you carried wracked through you. 

You’re not quite sure how he’s got you to open up about your father once before but, damn it, he’s going for another record by digging deep into your personal hardships. 

He stayed silent in what you assumed to be stunned silence but by the time you turned your head to look at him, his eyes carried no surprise, they carried a shared sorrow instead. That’s when you knew that this whole debacle was a mirrored event for him. Something he witnessed himself go through and is now witnessing in you. Epiphany struck like thunder because now you know that's probably how he knew what you were planning; he's done it once before.

If you had any piece left to break in your heart, you’re sure it’d break for him too.

“You’ve tried it before, haven’t you? Erasing a memory in the Irminsul?”

Your question was met with a mocking scoff but unlike the last time he did it, this one was targeted towards himself.

“I’ll do you one better, I tried erasing myself off of it.”

You greeted his admission with silence, you’re not quite sure if it’s some sort of absurd understanding or profound shock. The man beside you has not only tempered with the Irminsul by erasing himself but lived to tell the tale. You have no clue what would drive someone to do such a drastic measure but you realize, in a way, you were not much different. 

“I was abandoned by my creator, by the people I ate and drank with, by a god and by its maker and the pain made me bitter so I tried it yet I’m still here. I know that the whole research is just a facade for your true goal.”

You can’t help but avert your gaze, caught red-handed. 

As you let his words sink in, your realize the hope you once carried were diminishing by the second. A weight dropped onto your shoulder making you curl into yourself even more. You held yourself in a shoddy attempt at mimicking some comfort.

“So, there’s no end to this, is there? Not even the Irminsul can help me,” you asked, sullen and all of a sudden so tired of everything. 

He let the quiet fester just long enough to have you break down again. He did not mean for more tears to fall from your eyes but he’s not sure how to tell you that there was no hope in the Irminsul to fix your hurt. How should he phrase what he thinks you need to hear?

“There is no way for the Irminsul to help you, us. Even if you forget, there’s no assurance it won’t come back to your mind and make things feel ten times worse,” he tells you in a tone so close to a whisper. 

He watched as you sobbed at how futile everything was, how hard it all was. 

He let you grief for your loss of an easy way to happiness.

“But I won’t say there’s no way out.”

You looked at him, your tear-filled human eyes meeting his glass puppet ones.

“It’s a lot of effort, much more than I’d like to give sometimes. Hell, it took a god and some otherworldly intervention to get me back to the baseline of a decent human,” he laughed pitifully, “but it’s possible. If it is for me, I don’t doubt for a second it is for you too.”

His words did little to ease the barrage of tears streaming past your cheeks but amidst the throes of emotion, it comforted you, much like the weight of a blanket on top of a sore body, a heaviness that seeks to drown out the sorrow instead of crush the happiness. 

You looked away to wipe the snot and waterworks away. You wanted to thank him and maybe say your fair share of apologetic lines but when you turned back around to face him, he was gone. 

The tree branches swayed as the wind rustled the leaves off of their seat on the bark. On the space that he occupied just a few seconds ago were some of the stuff you must’ve left back when you rushed out of the Akademiya and amongst it was a small note. It wasn’t the neatest of handwriting and it was a crude, almost cold letter (if it even counted as one considering it consisted of only a few words) but it brought a tiny spark of warmth into your heart.

I’ve done it before. I believe in you.

To 💿anon, I'm so sorry this took so long. My exams drained my energy and I did not want to write you something half-assed so I waited until my schedule cooled down a bit to continue where I left off. Just like last time I hope this brings you some comfort and if you need to share please feel free. Much love <3

[specialagentartemis]

the becky chambers discussion/roasting is reminding me that i read several of the wayfarers novels, and liked them all alright, but i can't think of a single one where i found the ending satisfying. and in retrospect, you're right, it's a lot of the same thing over and over again

the one that's sticking in my brain at the moment is whichever one had that alien with the human boyfriend, which was a big taboo i think, who was on her way to see him when she hit a stage of fertility that's really rare in her alien biology, and would culturally normally involve going off and having some alien eggs or whatever before this brief period ended

and this was portrayed as like, a positive and fulfilling experience, not a coercive one or anything, but it was culturally Expected, and in the end she decided to go hang out with her human boyfriend instead even if that meant missing the fertility cycle and forgoing this big cultural expectation

and idk i think the point it was trying to make was about bodily autonomy, which is great, but i found the way it was written deeply unsatisfying, and looking at it now it feels like that same Dex and Mosscap attitude where Simply Not Feeling Like It is a reason to ignore all social obligations. like not that it was a bad decision for the character, but i simply did not feel like I was emotionally sold on why she didn't want to. "i just don't feel like it" doesn't seem like a big enough reason to ignore this big milestone in your culture you know

god this ask is so long and should probably have been a reblog of one of your posts or something. sorry lol

Hah no this is interesting, and I enjoy the book discussions!

Hmm I remember this character, but I don’t remember this plot point… was it in the most recent Wayfarers book? I never actually read it.

But, yeah, I see what you mean. There is power in exerting your autonomy, but making big life decisions mostly just because [shrug] you want to can feel… weak. From this description of this plot thread, it also feels like it reinforces what I felt about Chambers writing all her characters, alien or robot or spacefuture human, like suburban Californians—that is, with logic, values, and decisions that feel like they belong to a liberal, middle-class, urban-but-not-in-the-middle-of-a-city, white woman. None of those are meant as pejoratives, I want to be clear—by liberal I don’t mean it as an insult, I mean, with values of open-mindedness and progressive ideals, and in this case in a particularly suburban American way. This feels like a story about reproductive autonomy from such a perspective, with the values of someone who is a middle-class white woman in a liberal area of the US and this is what reproductive/bodily autonomy looks like—as opposed to getting in the head of an alien in the spacefuture and imagining what different cultural values might look like and how they might influence that character’s feelings and way of conceptualizing such a decision, even if that’s the choice she ultimately does make for herself. Y’know?

[featherandferns]

Smut with prompt 1 if that’s alright <3

In retrospect, this is not what I had in mind when I said surprise me.

Um, I got REALLY carried away so basically have a short-fic???

feel free to request: prompt list

Happy Anniversary - prompt 1

JJ’s never had an anniversary before. The longest ‘relationship’ he’s been in, before you, lasted a whole two weeks in ninth grade. The farthest they went was holding hands, and that was only because their friends wouldn’t stop heckling for them to. So, when JJ casually asked you what you wanted to do for your one-year anniversary whilst the two of you were walking back from the beach, you shrugged and said possibly the worst answer you could’ve given him. “Surprise me.”

JJ isn’t heartless. He knows what girls like, inside the bedroom and outside. He knows how to woo someone. What to say to have them all mushy and blushing and stuff. Hell, it’d clearly worked with you. But was he romantic? Now that’s a different thing entirely.

It didn’t help that you were rather low maintenance. That you were more than content with date nights that involved surfing and smoking and sometimes a late-night walk. Staying and watching a movie, usually ending up with the film completely neglected and your clothes on the floor. Dinners and presents and all of that weren’t as much your style. You weren’t against them, per say, but as a broke cut-resident yourself, you didn���t care about all the finer things in life.

“Why don’t you buy her a necklace?” John B offers from the deckchair.

“She doesn’t really wear necklaces,” JJ replies from the hammock. “She just has this one chain with her mom’s wedding ring on it. Always wears it.”

“A book?” Pope says.

“Not much of a reader,” JJ returns.

“Why don’t you do something for her instead of buying her something, then?” Kiara tries.

JJ sits up at that, frowning at her. “What’d ya mean?”

“Well, she seems like the kinda girl who likes doing things.”

“Oh, definitely,” JJ replies with a growing smirk.

Kie rolls her eyes at the innuendo. “JJ, gross. I mean, she’s always surfing or crocheting or whatever.”

“I don’t know shit about crocheting,” JJ tells Kie. “She does like to cook though. Makes the best lemon sea bass ever.”

“Why don’t you cook for her then?” Sarah says.

John B and Pope burst into laughter. JJ glares at them, unamused.

“What?” she innocently asks.

“JJ’s level of cooking is a piece of toast,” John B says.

“And even that’s got a fifty-fifty chance of success,” Pope adds.

“Fuck you guys! I can cook! How hard can it be? You just follow a recipe and throw some shit in a pan and then boom,” JJ challenges. They stare up at him, amused and unconvinced. “I can cook!”

“What’s her favourite meal?” Kie asks.

“She likes Italian,” JJ thinks aloud. “Maybe spaghetti and meatballs or something?”

“You’re going to make spaghetti and meatballs? Something that requires three different things being done simultaneously?” Pope asks him, eyebrows raised so high they nearly teeter on greeting his hairline.

“Watch me, golden boy,” JJ grins self-assuredly.

The only form of reply the blonde boy gets is John B digging into his pockets and pulling out a five-dollar bill, which he then holds out to Pope in bet.

~*~*~*~*

The first thought you have as you walk up the porch steps of the chateau is ‘what the hell is that smell?’ It’s something akin to burning, though tinged with an overwhelming stench of garlic and tomato. The second thought you have as you open the door is ‘oh dear God.’

You’re greeted by a cloud of smoke and steam. It stings yours eyes a little. There’s chaos in the kitchen ahead. The clattering of pots and pans and JJ’s mumbled curses. The fact that the fire alarm hasn’t gone off can only mean that it’s broken. Smiling smally to yourself, amused, you dump your bag and cardigan on the pull-out sofa and walk through to the kitchen.

“In retrospect, this is not what I had in mind when I said surprise me,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the madness of his cooking.

JJ spins around at the sound of your voice. His hair is sticking in every which way (cap clearly abandoned) which only tells you he’s been stressfully raking his fingers through it. His eyes are wide and frantic like a man who just committed murder. Muscle tee damp with sweat from the overwhelming warmth that is standing in an unventilated kitchen of mayhem.

“I told you to come at eight,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “It is eight.”

“Wha—” His eyes flit to the clock on the wall, to the right of you. He cusses under his breath.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…Well, I’m…”

You watch as he looks around at the chaos, as if coming to from sleepwalking. Your brow quirks higher still. “Starting a small house fire?”

“Cooking you dinner,” he corrects, shooting you a glare. “For our anniversary.”

Your smile can’t help but grow at that. Heart does a little summersault. He’s never cooked you dinner before (and now you can see why).

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” JJ adds, driven by your expression it seems. But then his confidence dwindles as he gestures lamely to the hob. The smoke and steam coming from it is the source of the garlic-tinged smell monstrosity. “But it’s, uh, not exactly going to plan.”

“In what way?”

“Well, to start, the pasta isn’t going all soft and stuff. It’s just sorta sticking to the pan,” he sighs, annoyed.

“Well, how much water did you add to it?”

He looks to you, blank. “I’m supposed to add water?”

You stare at him, gaping a little. Seriously?

Walking to the hob, looking down into the pan…Yep. That is just pasta, glued and burnt and probably never coming free. Then, you glance into the second pan. Pasta sauce that is weirdly brown-ish in colour, saturated with garlic (you can tell from smell alone) and mixed herbs that haven’t been diced properly, leading them to float at the top like driftwood. The meatballs are burnt past the point of no return. Chargrilled. The cooking top is covered in splatters of sauce and seasonings, making it filthy. The countertops are cluttered with every cooking utensil and appliance under the sun: spoons, knives, spatulas and even whisks (?). A bowl of grated cheese sits sadly to the side; the only thing that survived JJ’s culinary hand.

But, despite the catastrophe that it is, you can’t help but feel your heart thrum happily. Ironically, it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever had done for you and is weirdly the perfect anniversary celebration. All of this took thought and time and effort. So, turning around, facing a very meek, embarrassed JJ who stands with his back against the fridge, hands shoved in his pockets and head hung in defeat, you find yourself smiling lovingly.

Your hands cradle his jaw, drawing his gaze to you, and you lean forward to kiss him. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“I do,” you assure. “And I love you.” Then you’re kissing him again.

JJ’s hands find home on your waist as he kisses you back, smiling. Pulling away after a moment, a little breathless, you glance over your shoulder. “I love it,” you repeat, “but I don’t think we should eat it.”

“Oh, definitely not,” JJ agrees quickly. The two of you laugh.

Another fleeting kiss and then you’re stepping out of his hold, the two of you moving to turn everything off. You toss the pan of pasta into the sink and run the tap, dunking half a bottle of washing up liquid in. Maybe that might give it a fighting chance. JJ half-arsedly piles up all the cooking utensils he’d used so there’s some more space. He then moves to the fridge to put away the grated cheese (no point letting it go to waste) whilst you tip the sauce and meatballs down the drain or into the bin.

“So, the main course might have been a bust,” JJ says with his head still in the fridge.

You chuckle as you lean to crack open every window in the kitchen, hoping to aerate the room. “To put it lightly.”

“But, hey: dessert and wine are still good,” JJ announces.

You shut off the tap and turn around, wiping your hands dry on a towel. He’s holding a tub of chocolate mousse and a bottle of cheap white wine up.

“Dessert’s the best course anyway,” you tell him with a grin that mirrors his own.

With that, the two of you head to the pull out. You swipe two spoons from the drawer on the way whilst JJ grabs a couple of mismatched wine glasses. Sighing as you sit, shuffling back to the pillows, you get to opening the wine. JJ’s wandering around the sitting room, messing with the old CD player, and as you’re filling up two glasses, some soft R&B music kicks on from the early 2000s.

“Oh?” you jokingly say, raising a brow at him.

He rolls his eyes and joins you, taking the outstretched glass you offer him. Smiling, you lean up to kiss him.

“Happy anniversary,” you whisper.

He clinks his glass to yours. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

The two of you drink and then JJ’s placing his glass on the window ledge, moving to open the mousse. You clap your hands happily, rubbing them together with a giggle.

“This might taste like shit,” JJ warns as he grabs one of the spoons. You place your glass on the side too.

“Can’t be much worse than your cooking,” you reply.

He decides not to respond to that, but you watch him roll his eyes mirthfully. Then he’s dipping the spoon in and holding it out for you. Leaning forward, you taste off the spoon.

“Mhm!” you nod, swallowing.

“Good?”

“Good!” you grin.

You take the other spoon and do the same for him, watching as he eats practically from the palm of your hands. His eyes hold your gaze as he does. Shamelessly, you squeeze your legs together. You swear only he could make something this cheesy sexy to you.

“You like it?” you wonder. He licks his lips.

“It’s alright,” JJ says, feigning being in thought (his growing smile giving him away). “Think I know something that tastes better.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” he nods, leaning closer until you’re subconsciously sinking onto your back.

Playing along, you innocently ask through your excited smile, “what would that be?”

He takes your spoon from your hold, tossing it to the side after doing the same with his. Hovering over you, JJ leans down so his lips are a breadth’s width from yours.

“I think you know, baby,” he mumbles.

With that, he’s kissing you. Tastes like chocolate and vino. Your hands grab at his face, pulling him nearer, hooking your feet over his legs. JJ sighs against you, chuckles a little as you do too. Breaks away to kiss down your neck, moving slowly down the bed, coming to rest on his knees and dragging you by your feet to pull you nearer, making you laugh all flustered-like. JJ chews on his lower lip, grinning that punch-drunk grin you love, as he pulls off your skirt and panties. Then he’s going down on you. Relentless and unforgiving, as if to make-up for the cooking catastrophe. He’s tongue-fucking your centre and lapping at your wetness.

“Fuck, JJ,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut.

It’s like he’s spurred on by the sounds you make, likes when you whine out his name. You grip at the blankets on the pull-out sofa, staring at the ceiling, moaning through a blissed-out smile. His thumb rubs at your clit as he works at you with newfound fever. Moaning from the taste of you, the sound making you clench your legs tighter against his head. JJ uses a hand to hold one of your legs open for him. It’s all so fucking good. You’re building, closer and closer, until you’re coming with a gasp, quietly chanting his name.

When JJ pulls away, panting, you whine at the loss of his mouth on you. Moving atop of you again, you kiss at his mouth, sighing at the taste of yourself that lingers on his tongue. Your hands hurriedly move to undo his shorts as he kisses you, making him chuckle.

“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grins, moving to suck a hickey on your jawline.

Shucking the shorts off – JJ pulling back a moment to help – you slip a hand into his boxers and work at him. He groans against your jaw, falling pliant to your touch, making you smile. But you’re impatient the way he is, and you shove off his boxers.

“I wanna be on top,” you say as he kisses your neck.

“Fuck yes,” he replies. Climbs off you and grabs for your hips, guiding you atop of him as he collapses onto his back. You’re guiding him to your entrance, moaning as he slides against your wetness. As you go to sink down, he’s stopping you, making you meet his gaze. “Wait! We need a condom.”

You shake your head. Move to sink down again.

“Baby, stop, I’m serious,” JJ chuckles, breathless.

Smiling to yourself, you lean down to kiss him. Then, against his lips, you tell him your anniversary gift to him. “I’m on the pill.”

JJ pulls you away from him by the jaw so he can meet your eyes. Through nothing but looks, the two of you have a quick, silent conversation. Really? Yes. Chuckling boyishly, kissing you again, deeper and rushed, you giggle against him.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

[michelle-is-writing]

Stepping Stones, Spencer Reid

This was a request, and it’s a bit different from what I usually write. The request included flashbacks, and I don’t write them in many of my fics, so I hope they don’t sound too bad.

Word Count: 1.3k~

It’s funny how one room in a house can change so much over the span of two years. What was once grey walls are now painted a light blue, and the area once covered with stacks of books now holds various stuffed animals and baby toys. The desk was probably the hardest to move, but the crib wasn’t much better. Not to mention the best change in the whole house was the new presence of a baby boy - mine and Spencer’s baby boy.

After my brother died, it felt like nothing could bring me happiness. Spencer tried and tried, but even his smiling face seemingly couldn’t bring me out of my funk. Although, his hard work did end up helping me, albeit slowly. Thankfully, Spencer understood where I was coming from, and he always assured me that it was okay when I felt bad about not sharing his happy moments with him.

It was only after Scratch’s death that I could feel the warmth that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. Of course, I was on morphine at the same time as I didn’t come out unscathed when it came to catching Scratch. He managed to get one bullet in me before falling to his death and making me fall back onto the roof of the building with a bullet lodged in my shoulder. I don’t remember much from those moments of terror, but I do remember Spencer’s face appearing above mine with nothing but fear written all over it. What would you do if your wife was bleeding out on a rooftop?

When I woke up in the hospital the next day, a lot of things ran through my head. First was the realization that Prentiss was alive and safe, and the second was that the man who killed my brother was now dead, to which I ended up sobbing in my hospital bed. Spencer, whom I hadn’t even noticed in the corner of the room, immediately rushed over and tried to make sure I was okay, and to his delight, I was. We were both alright after so long of a hell we had to face.

Steven’s funeral was the next step I had to take, and even though I didn’t like the idea of arriving at my older brother’s funeral with a cast and bruises adorning my face, I went. I wouldn’t say it felt good to say goodbye to him, but it was a relief to see him in a more peaceful manner than when I first saw him deceased. When that happened, it ended with me screaming and sobbing while Luke held me back from running to his body in the SUV. I didn’t know what else to do in that situation. I felt numb; it was as if I was losing my mind at the sight of Steven with a broken neck.

Fortunately, I got to see Monica there, and eventually, I got to talk to her as well. I felt the self-guilt gnawing away at my stomach, and even though I didn’t say anything that showed it, Monica knew. Instead of saying words she knew I wouldn’t believe, she pulled me close and held me as we both quietly wept. My sister-in-law and I always had a close relationship like that, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

~~~

“Your auntie Monica has always loved your mommy,” I whisper to the baby boy in my arms as he stares up at me with eyes to mirror his father’s own chocolate orbs. “She used to come over when she was dating your uncle and always spend a few minutes with me to help me feel counted,” I add, “When your daddy and I got married, she helped out a lot. She was mommy’s bridesmaid, and both she and your uncle made me and daddy feel so loved.”

~~~

Two months before Steven’s death was mine and Spencer’s wedding. In retrospect, I couldn’t be more thankful that we chose the date we did as my brother got to not only witness one of the happiest days of my life but he got to walk me down the aisle as well. Not to mention he got to hand me off to a man whom I not only loved, but a man that Stephen and Monica knew would treat me right. Spencer and I had been dating for two years, and we both knew that neither of us ever wanted to be with anybody else. In my heart, I knew I didn’t want to go through any more of life’s moments without him by my side permanently, and at the altar, Spencer confessed the same thing. We wanted everything together, the bad and the good.

~~~

“And so, that’s where you come into the picture, Henry Stephen Reid,” I murmur, smiling as the restless baby starts to close his eyes. As he’s gotten older and hit the six month mark, it’s easier to put him down for a nap, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

~~~

Barely a year had passed after Stephen’s death when I found out I was pregnant. Both Spencer and I were ecstatic, along with the rest of the BAU when we discovered the news. I don’t think anyone stopped smiling for the entire nine months I was pregnant. The person I had the hardest time telling my pregnancy to was my sister-in-law, Monica. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t want to take her away from mourning Stephen or if I was scared of how she would react. Although, I think a majority of my problem was the heartbreaking irony that presented itself to me in this situation: when life was taken away from me, it was given back in another way.

Spencer and I had been married for a year then, and in all honesty, the thought of pregnancy wasn’t a priority. It wasn’t something we were too concerned about - if it happened, it happened, but we would be happy. The only problem was that after a year without protection, we still had no baby to show. Sadly, we both realized the possibility that maybe we weren’t meant to be parents. Now that I think about it, it was kind of ridiculous that we even thought to give up after only a single year.

~~~

“Is he down for the afternoon?” Spencer asks as I walk out into the kitchen, baby-free. Well, kind of.

“Yes, he is,” I murmur, walking up next to Spencer at the counter where he flips through one of my cookbooks. “Did you find something for us to have for dinner?” I ask, looking up at his concentrated face. I could stare at his face all day, and not have a single worry.

Turning toward me with a smile, Spencer wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me to him, kissing the side of my head. “Do you think the littlest one would like stuffed shells tonight?” He asks, one hand moving to caress my non-existent bump.

“Spence,” I say his name with a small laugh, reaching up to hold his face. Still my biggest advocate in life, Spencer smiles down at me, his happiness somehow connected to my own. “I’m only ten weeks along; I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I point out, Spencer’s hold on me never faltering. Despite all of the things we've been through together, the good or bad, we’re still there for each other and always will be.

[arguablysomaya]

Any unhinged/ feral Tim Drake fic recs?

of course~

Tim just wants to find his sunglasses. Everything spirals from there.

by @comebackolivia

“Enough chatter,” Tim barks. Green Lantern grumbles. “You want to get through this, right? Then settle down. Alright. Workplace injuries.”

He pauses, squinting at the slide. “We’ve seen nearly a 3% reduction in injuries this past quarter. Our goal was 5%. Do better.”

“Hey,” says Flash, “it’s a dangerous job!”

“Do better,” he repeats.

or: tim drake is totally a pro at this whole batman thing.

Batfamily Week Day 6: FREAKY FRIDAY

by @konan-supernova

It’s not that Jason doesn’t generally know that his grand ideas tend to be very convoluted and, to be frank, simply terrible.

He just doesn’t care.

Or so he tells himself, as he ducks a laser that shoots out from behind Alfred’s rose bushes, because of course Bruce Wayne is the type of paranoid bastard to laser-grid his own goddamn garden.

In retrospect, he did not plan this outing of his very well.

-- or in other words: jason todd accidentally introduces tim drake to the wonders of arson.

by a_celestial_star

Jason needs money, Tim needs a break. Bruce unfortunately is the answer to their problems.

by Parsimonius

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”   Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

by @preciousthingsareprecious

"tim drake’s snapchat is 90% him making bruce wayne do normal middle-class american things and filming the results."

by @unpretty

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: shopgirl

Group F

Prompts: Locked together. Fairytales, “You belong here.” Stepmother Belle.

-

Closet Case

Out of all the ways Belle imagined being in a small space with an attractive man, this was not one of them. Sure, she’d played all the usual kissing games in high school, but somewhere between then and now, she’d gotten married under strange pretenses, become a stepmother, and still hadn’t managed to get her new husband to take her in the way she read about in her romance novels. 

It had all started with a deal, as it usually did with Mr. Gold but the deal hadn’t make sense to Belle. Mr. Gold had more money than anyone in town, he could hire a maid, a nanny, a housekeeper, he didn’t need a wife. He didn’t want a wife, as far as she could tell since he never touched her, barely looked at her, since the deal was struck. 

She had acted a bit rashly, in retrospect, offering to work off her father’s debt when Mr. Gold had come to collect. She’d expected him to say she could work in his shop or clean his house or something but as soon as she offered herself his eyes had lit up. Belle’s stomach had twisted in a way that was new, and a bit alarming, but she had pushed on and agreed. 

He wanted a step mother for his son, Mr. Gold had said, he needed a woman’s nurturing. So she read him fairy tales, especially her favorite about the girl and the beast, and she tucked him in, even though he was getting too old for that, and made his lunches, packed and waiting for him to take to school. 

Then Neal went and locked her- and his father- in a closet. 

“Neal? Neal, open the door!” Belle jiggled the handle but the closet door wouldn’t budge. 

“Neal, open this door this minute!” Mr. Gold bellowed, making Belle flinch. 

“This is for your own good!” Neal called, “You guys never talk and now you have to! I’m not letting you out until you’re friends!” 

“Neal!” Belle tried again but she could hear his sneakers retreating away on the wood floor. 

“Step aside dearie,” he said, and Belle flattened herself against the wall. She watched as he set aside his cane, trying- and failing- to get the door to open, before muttering under his breath, “Little hellion.” 

Belle signed, “He’s just trying to help.”

“I don’t need my son telling me how conduct my marriage,” Mr. Gold snapped. He had moved away from the door, as far away from Bella as he could get in the small space. Belle felt her annoyance prickle, especially as she realized she never thought of her husband as anything but Mr. Gold.

“He’s right, you know,” she shot back, “We don’t know each other, not really.” 

She wasn’t looking at his face, instead, watched as his hand flexed around the handle of the cane. 

“Well?” her husband said after a moment.

“What?”

“Ask away,” he said mockingly, “I am an open book.” 

“Alright,” Belle said, trying to make the best of the situation. “What’s your name?”

“That’s what you want to waste your question on dearie?” 

“You didn’t say I only had one!” 

“Didn’t I? Oops,” said Mr. Gold, but when Belle lifted her eyes to meet his, he was smirking. 

“I still want to know your name,” Belle said, “I find it strange to be married to a man who’s name I don’t know.” 

His hands tightened around the cane handle, watching her for what felt like forever until he finally said, “Murdoch, Murdoch Roy Gold.”

“Murdoch,” Belle repeated, “Thank you.” 

Then she said, “We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.” 

Belle folded her hands in her lap, lifting her chin to look around the closet. But, out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyes widen as an entirely new look passed across his face. It was… fear? Concern? It was only there for a moment before disappearing behind the mask Belle had come to know all too well. Despite the small moment, she counted it as a victory. She’d gotten the tiniest rise out of Murdoch Roy Gold. 

He shifted uncomfortably. Belle refused to look. Somewhere, out in the house, the grandfather clock ticked, muted through the door. 

Finally, he cleared his throat, “Are you… unhappy here?” 

“Neal is a very nice boy,” Bella said, diplomatically, “I enjoy being his stepmother.” 

“Nuh uh, that’s not an answer,” Mr. Gold- Murdoch- said, “Of course Bae is a good boy, but you are avoiding the question. Is the house not suitable? Your allowance?” 

“The house is lovely and you know it. I just don’t understand why you want me here. Yes, you’ve said you want Neal to have a stepmother, but everything I do could have been done as a nanny,” Belle said, all the frustration and confusion of the past six months coming out in a rush, “I don’t belong here because you don’t want a wife.” 

“I want a wife,” said Murdoch, evenly. 

“I am a nanny and a housekeeper, but not a wife.” 

Belle was on her feet again, arms crossed. Murdoch stood, nearly nose to nose, but not touching, never touching. The little closet was suddenly too hot, and far too small. Belle’s face was flush with a wild touch of vexation, and something else that she didn’t want to name, something that had been simmering under the surface, in the hot prickle of her skin. 

“And how exactly,” he asked, “Would I keep a wife?” 

“You could touch me, for one thing,” the words were out of her mouth before she could think, before she could weigh the gravity of it. 

Her husband went very still, and for the second time that afternoon, Belle knew she’d shocked him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Murdoch said, voice low, rough, sending a shiver down Belle’s spine that was not unpleasant. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” said Belle, holding his gaze. 

Slowly, he raised one hand, hovering a hair's breadth from her cheek, fingers trembling. Belle didn’t move, waiting, daring him. Warmth flooded her body as he made contact, cupping her face with one hand, thumb brushing against her lower lip. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed, savoring the touch. She’d been craving this for what felt like forever and she couldn’t help the small sigh escaping her lips. 

“Belle,” Murdoch’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I am going to kiss you now.” 

“Please.” 

His hand slid back to wrap around the nape of her neck as he kissed her, surprisingly tender. Belle surrendered into the kiss immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck. Their bodies rocking together, moving as one as they kissed, long and deep.

“You do belong here,” Murdoch murmured as they broke apart and for once, Belle agreed. 

-

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Looking back on the last book I must admit that the Khan out of all the Primarchs was the funniest fucker in 30k. Everyone acted like the Edict of Nikea was this absolute verdict and that they had no choice but to cripple their own legions by disbanding the scriptorium instiutions, and that it all was inevitable under the absolute authority of the Emperor.

And the Khan? He just did not do that. He did not even have a public stance for going against it or did it out of petty defiance, he just from the bottom of his heart couldn't give a darn about this dumbass decision and did exactly nothing about it.

"Alright psyker friends listen up, according to official rules y'all no longer exist" - "And what now boss?" - "Nothing, keep doing whatever you're doing. Just don't get caught."

The funniest bit is that this was enough. The Khan never got into trouble for keeping his Psykers by his side in active service. Every other legion could have done the same. They would have showed up at Istvan with essentially twice the firepower and given Horus and the other traitors quite the bloody nose in the process. But nope, unlike doing the smart thing and just pretending to shoot themselves in the foot, they actually shot themselves in the foot.

Just how utterly stupid must they have appeared to the Khan in retrospective?

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @somethingclevermahogony!

OC Question Game

My questions:

Who would you miss the most if they left?

What is the funniest thing you have ever done?

Who cares about you the most?

I'll answer for Sepo, because why not?

.

1) Who would you miss the most if they left?

"It makes me cringe that this is even a hard question. I used to be perfectly fine on my own. The only thing I would ever miss would be a good current beneath my wingfins. But now? If Twenari left, I'd worry through every waking moment over whether she's alright or not. If Djek left, it'd be so quiet around here the silence would feel like a scream. I couldn't choose. Izjik would never leave. Not to where I couldn't follow."

2) What is the funniest thing you have ever done?

"I'll tell you, but if I ever hear you've told anyone else, especially a certain squinty-eyed Amaranthi, I'll hang you from a flagpole by your tongue, understand? When I was a boy studying to be a priest at the Saryimastra Seat, my brother was always the more popular of us two. This wouldn't be a hard thing to guess if you'd have known Saius; he was the personable type, always quick with a joke or a kind word. He was the one who introduced me to Fahdra.

Fahdra, not that I'd have been able to tell, was the darling of the junior priesthood. Pretty, intelligent, pious; everything a sixteen year old siren could want or could want to be. For some damn reason, she loved talking to me. She even switched her chore rotation so she'd be on alter cleaning duty with me.

One night, we ended up staying late to clean up. She asked me very coyly if I wanted to hang out at her dorm after we finished. I said no - I wanted to finish my book - but she said she had some secular sheet music she could show me, and that was temptation enough for me to agree. In retrospect, her exact phrasing was 'Do you want to make some sinful music together?', so perhaps that was a missed cue on my part.

Anyways, we get there, and she immediately strips off her shawl and bra. I thought that was strange, but nudity isn't as taboo in Ulahdris as it is on the surface, so I assumed she was just getting comfortable. I asked her where the music was, and she told me we'd make it together. I told her that I still needed sheet music. She told me that she'd show me the rhythms. I told her that was stupid. It was only when she asked if I was messing with her that I caught on to the fact that some of what she'd been saying had perhaps been subtext. I fled back to my dorm at once. Saius said he'd never seen my face to red. We ended up switching clothes and chores for the week because I was so embarrassed - we looked so much alike that if we didn't talk, no one could tell us apart. In the end, after spending that week cleaning alters with Fahdra, she and Saius ended up dating for a time.

It's a long story and one I never thought was particularly funny, but Izjik loses her mind every time she hears it. I suppose I wish Fahdra the best. It must've been some piss poor luck that caused her to set her sights on the most oblivious siren east of the Oresea."

3) Who cares about you the most?

"Izjik."

.

Your questions:

What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?

How do you deal with anger?

What's the worst job you've ever worked?

I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @televisionjester @albatris @aestheic-writer18 @wordfather and anyone else who wants in :)

[ishouldgetatumbler]

Hxh Ships:

Killua/Gon: You are my light. I could cradle you in my loving arms until the earth grows cold. I am going to spin kick you.

Meruem/Komugi: If you weren't such a fascist this could be such a beautiful love story.

Gon/Alluka: We are having so much fun! The trauma is inexorable. I love spending time with you! Sometimes I think about the things we've lost.

Kite/Pitou: Yes I murdered you but in doing so I destroyed the greatest thing I ever held and learned the value of you in retrospect so takesies backsies.

Killua/canary: I trust you with my life. I would give up everything for you. But no I wont go to bruce springstein with you.

Kurapika/Leorio: We fuck in a beat up SUV in a target parking lot at 2 am alot. Its alright but every time our mutual friends gather it is so awkward.

Leorio/Silva Zoldyck: I fucked your dad by accident but it means I win any argument ever so actually this is okay

Leorio/Zepile: Bro... I heard pineapple makes your cum taste better... theres no way... well... there is only one way to be sure... Let me cover my dick in pineapple and then... no. I shant say...

Illumi/Hisoka: Trying to figure out which one is more demented and psychosexually agressive is half of the fun, and the other half is kinky sex.

Kurapika/Hisoka: If you weren't such a bitch I could like you. If you weren't so sexy I could hate you. I will settle for rough sex and mindgames.

Ging/Razor: "Do you ever think two manly men could smooch and touch butts?" "no but now that I have it is all I long for."

Kurapika/Chrollo: Buisiness casual for hate sex. Love hate with anti-social twinks who love books.

Shoot/Knuckle: What! Bro jobs aren't gay? Bro, get over here! I need to give you a straight up gay sloppy sucking to ENSURE its gay this time.

Bisky/Hisoka: Fighting and fucking are 10% the same thing but with careful teamwork I believe we can raise this number

Palm/Mito: Hey. I got your text. Yeah the uhaul is loaded. I'm so sad I didn't get to say it first, but I love you too.

[colossal-niamh]

A long vent on MJF's world title run shaped like an essay

There's been a consistent debate about the quality of MJF's title run post mortem and I think I fully stand on the side that it was terrible. Possibly even the worst world title run AEW's had yet (aside from CM Punk's nonexistent 2nd run). Overly lengthy, rarely defended the belt on tv (a total of 5 times in 406 days), diminishing returns on title matches (the Double or Nothing and Full Gear matches are especially bad) and I grew more cold on him as he turned more and more face.

In retrospect I fully believe he should have dropped the belt at All In. obviously creative didn't have the booking foresight to plan around Adam Cole's ankle exploding, but I don't think we needed another 4 months of MJF title run. They should have started the big betrayal and new heel faction at the biggest show the company's ever run and not when both sides of the big feud are too bruised and beaten to work an angle. but that's more fantasy booking than proper analysis.

The Length of MJF's run felt excessive and unnecessary considering the lack of anything substantial for several stretches on TV. A lot of the builds for his title defenses were him being challenged by someone and then MJF sets up a bunch of stipulations to get that match like a gauntlet his opponent would run through. This led to some solid TV matches like Bryan vs Rush, but left the show devoid of MJF himself outside of being essentially a talking head. AEW prior had made sure the world champ was on the card and the belt was a hotly contested prize. Without those regular matches on TV it felt the world champion was distant from the product and was what the world title scene had avoided up to that point, avoidable.

The actual matches MJF did have were inconsistent in quality and in particular his pay per view matches steadily got worse as his run went on. I will say up front I like the ironman match with Bryan and the match with Tanahashi is the only title defense I haven't seen, so maybe that one might be some hidden gem I missed. As for the others, they either range from alright like the Mox and Samoa Joe matches where he won and lost the titles respectively, to legitimately the worst PPV world title match AEW's had in the 4 pillars 4-way. A match where 4 guys nowhere near skilled or experienced enough to put on a quality world title match, which also floundered due to the build up being MJF failing to bounce off of 3 guys with sub par promo skills (side note, Sammy Guevara is the worst promo in the company, bar none). I think the main factor for this is a borrowed observation from Joseph Montecillo's review* of the Jay White match from Full Gear

"This match with Jay White is a strange mix of good and interesting ideas shaped into the entirely wrong fashion. It’s an unwieldy uncanny valley kind of creation–all the elements of “good” wrestling are there but in the wrong order, mutated and warped into an ugly whole. Everything about it feels discordant, unpleasant to behold.

MJF knows all the words, but not the music."

MJF knows what a good match looks like, but doesn't know how to pace or structure one. he's like a artist with some cool OCs and a story in his head, but he doesn't get the mechanics of panel flow and puts too many speech bubbles in the panels.

I found his heel work as champion standard practice for him but good, however as he pivoted to being a face I was fond at first but progressively soured on him. He's an excellent chicken shit heel and capable of some absolute bastard behavior, in fact he's too good. Face MJF comes off as disingenuous mainly for two reason. Number one his entire AEW run was defined by how heinous and untrustworthy he was, literally in the same run he turned face he hospitalized William Regal and shoot threw a drink at a kid on live PPV. Number two is that once he was portrayed as a face, he kept doing shit the exact same as when he was a heel, but now with a cheep city pop and a "I'm your sucmbag!" Once he had a friend AEW portrayed him as a loveable scamp for stuff commentary would curse him out for over half a year ago. He kept the sleezy prick routine and the body shaming and the only real noticeable change is his name calling somehow got worse. The big example of how face MJF doesn't work is the Jay White feud. Lizzy Flanagan at The Sportster* makes the point I'd like to make exactly.

"MJF’s go-to tactic to being a babyface has been garnering sympathy, but his sob story about being bullied as a well-off middle-class child in Long Island has been repeated three or four times now. He then resorts to humor, but the best he can come up with is calling Jay White tofu. Then, he tries some crowd work. This usually works fairly well, as the AEW crowd wants to see MJF succeed, but the promos can’t help but come across as cheesy and cliché. You can put lipstick on a pig. It’s still a pig. You can put a t-shirt and a smile on MJF. MJF is still a heel."

His face work feels fake and undercooked, so when put in a program with a fully realized and, frankly, better character like Jay White, Face MJF falls flat. The guy who's supposed to be the man of the people who recently turned over a new leaf is the same guy that flipped of a child at a public autograph event and mocked Darby Allen's dead uncle. The only thing that's changed as a character is now he has crocodile tears.

MJF's run as world champion was an abject failure. A spotlight that exposed the weakest parts of one of AEW's most popular performers during a creatively frustrating time in the company's short history. An example of many flaws in the modern wrestling landscape and the creative short comings of the man himself. As I write this I assume once Max recovers he'll take up the vengeful babyface role, chasing Cole and his faction. Do I hope it works? sure, but to I expect it to work? No, the experiment failed and it's inevitable that MJF will turn heel again. He has nothing without the bitter chicken shit heel persona, as a face he's a dog with no teeth. All bark, no bite.

*(Links to articles referenced in the replies below)

[bookofbolden]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: A bookshop in Portland, Maine PARTIES: Hazel & Eleanor SUMMARY: Out of options and patience Eleanor decides to visit an old friend who might be able to help her with the bond she shares with Lily. WARNINGS: None!

When Eleanor and Lily had lived in Portland they discovered a bookshop that was run by an older woman who called herself Hazel and claimed to possess magical abilities. Whether or not the two women had believed it, they continued to show their support for the shop by making it one of their favorite stops because of how cozy and inviting it was. Although all of the books that were on the shelves had to do with magic (spellbooks, magical recipes, how to tame your familiar) Eleanor had found a few that looked interesting during her many visits. In fact, the only non-magical books featured were Eleanor’s own publications which Hazel proudly displayed near the front.

The empath hadn’t visited the shop since Lily’s disappearance because it held too many memories but she had started to grow impatient with how slow things were moving when it came to finding a solution to her bond with her girlfriend. Although it was a shot in the dark Eleanor had decided that if there was anyone who could help her it would be Hazel.

Eleanor had told no one that she would be leaving to visit Portland because she hadn’t wanted anyone to insist on accompanying her. Hazel’s shop was a special place that she shared with Lily and she selfishly didn’t want to share it with anyone else.

The bell above the door rang out when Eleanor walked in and she took a deep breath to take in the familiar smell of soothing lavender and incense.

“I’ll be right there, take a look ‘round!” Hazel’s raspy voice floated out from the back room.

Memories came rushing back and flooded all of Eleanor’s senses. Her and Lily laughing as they played with Hazel’s pet black cat that roamed the shop freely. Lily buying tarot cards for the first time and Hazel promising to teach her how to read them. Eleanor accidentally tripping over one of the many displays that clogged the one long aisle of the small shop and Lily catching her just in time.

“Alright, what can I help… Eleanor?”

Hazel had emerged from the back and she stared at Eleanor with wide eyes behind her round glasses. Her frizzy gray hair had gotten longer since the last time they’d seen one another but other than that she looked the exact same. She wore a dark purple cape over a long black dress and the bangles on her thin wrists jingled every time she moved.

For Eleanor it almost felt like returning home to a loved family member.

“Hi Hazel, how have you been?”

Eleanor felt first elation then sadness roll off of Hazel and she didn’t have to wonder why. The last the old woman had heard of her was that Lily had gone missing and never found. Eleanor had packed up and left town without a proper departure, something she felt terrible for in retrospect. Hazel had been nothing but kind and accepted her and Lily into her little world without hesitation, she had deserved a goodbye at the very least.

“Elle.” The nickname rolled off of her tongue in such a satisfying way that it nearly brought tears to Eleanor’s eyes. It was strange seeing someone from Before but comforting at the same time. “I’ve missed you my friend. Do ya want some tea?”

Hazel brewed the best tea in Maine, it would have been foolish for Eleanor to decline.

“Of course,” the empath agreed with a smile, “I was hoping we could… talk. If that’s alright, I know you're a busy woman.”

Hazel chuckled. “I always make time for those who matter most. Flip that sign over and come to the back.”

Eleanor flipped over the open sign, locked the door, and followed her old friend to the back of the shop. She sat down in one of the three rickety chairs that were there and placed her hands into her lap as she waited. Curiosity radiated from Hazel but she was willing to answer any questions the older woman may have had, she just needed to be asked.

“How have ya been? When I heard about everythin’ that happened I was shocked. I’m so sorry for what you’re goin’ through.” Hazel started on the tea immediately, her old electric kettle beaten up but still functional. “I never expected to see ya again, this is a real treat.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry about just leaving without saying anything Hazel, I should have come by and spoken to you.”

“Don't apologize, I understand. After everythin’ you’ve been through I wouldn’t have expected anythin’ else. I wouldn’t wanna stick ‘round for much longer, either. But I expect that this ain’t just a friendly visit.”

Eleanor sighed and looked down at her hands. Hazel had a strict no judgment rule in her shop but she still felt silly for what she would be requesting.

“I need some help, Hazel. You’re the only person I know that might be able to point me in the right direction.”

With a huff the older woman sat in the chair across from Eleanor and offered her a kind smile. “Ask away, dearie.”

Could she do it? Would Hazel think that Lily’s disappearance had completely fried her brain? This was always the hardest part, determining whether or not someone would believe her or think that she was insane.

“Hazel, I have this… ability. I can…” How could she go on? Eleanor closed her eyes and decided to rush through the rest so that she wouldn’t lose her nerve. “I can feel other people’s emotions. I can feel yours right now. You’re curious as to why I’m here now, happy to see me, but a little sad because of what’s happened with Lily.” She opened her eyes but still avoided looking at the woman across from her. “I’m still learning how to control it and not let the emotions of others influence me so much but it’s hard. Especially since… since I can still feel Lily.”

It was silent in the small room for a long time and Eleanor had half a mind to get up and run out.

“What ya are, dearie, is an empath.”

Eleanor was completely caught off guard. “You believe me?”

“‘Course I do. And ya ain’t the first one to come through m’shop.”

The sound of the kettle sent Eleanor jumping to her feet.

“Calm down, it’s just the water!” Hazel chuckled and went to tend to the kettle. “Sit down Elle, we have a lot to talk ‘bout.”

Eleanor sat back down as she was told. Eventually a teacup was placed into her hands.

“When did it start for you?” Hazel asked.

“As a child. No one knew what was wrong with me, they just all thought that I was strange. I decided to keep it to myself after a while.”

“Well,” Hazel chuckled, “Nothin’ is wrong with ya, I promise. Did you have questions concernin’ these abilities?”

“In a way.” Eleanor took a big gulp of the tea, wincing when it burned her tongue. “I can still feel Lily and I… I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. She’s in constant pain and she’s afraid. I don’t know what to do.”

Hazel nodded and drank her own tea. “I’ve heard of this before. The bond you’ve created with Lily is so strong that you're able to feel her even when she’s not around. It’s a rare and special thing, I just hate that it’s making you feel the way that you are.” The old woman thought for a moment before she continued. “What kind of solution are you looking for?”

Eleanor shrugged. “I didn’t even know there were solutions.”

“You always have a choice dearie, unfortunately it’s not always easy to make.”

“What choices do I have?”

“I know of two.” Hazel got to her feet. She was unable to remain still for too long. “The first may not be so easy. The best way to stop feeling poor Lily’s misery is to find where she is and bring her home.”

Eleanor frowned. “I’ve tried that. I’ve been trying that for a year now, Hazel.”

“Which is why I said there’s two options.” Hazel placed her own teacup down on the only table in the room and started to hum to herself as she looked through a stack of dusty books. “Ah, here it is.” Satisfied with her selection she pulled it from the stack, looked through the table of contents, then quickly flipped to the page she’d been looking for. “Your second option… well, it’s less desirable to say the least, but it’s an option nonetheless.”

“Please Hazel.” Eleanor pleaded.

Hazel cleared her throat. “You have the option to break the bond you share with Lily.”

Eleanor was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment as she tried to piece together what had just been said to her.

“Break the bond… as in…”

“You’ll never feel Lily again.”

The empath’s throat closed. She wanted to stop feeling Lily’s misery but would she be able to survive without feeling her at all? The good thing about feeling her missing girlfriend was knowing that she was alive somewhere, but if she opted out of that how would she know whether or not Lily was still breathing?

"Would... would you be able to break it? How does it work?"

Hazel shook her head. "Not me, but we can find someone who can, I promise ya. I can tell that you have a lot to think ‘bout, I wouldn’t expect ya to make this kind of decision right away.” Hazel placed her hand on Eleanor's shoulder and squeezed it. “I’ll give ya this book so that you can read over everythin’ that’s involved in breaking the bond. Take as long as ya need and once ya mind is made up just give me a call to let me know what you’ve decided.” The older woman sighed and shook her head. “I really am sorry dearie, no one should have to make this kind of decision, especially not someone so lovin’.”

A tear rolled down Eleanor’s cheek but she didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. In a zombie-like state she accepted the book and walked out of the shop and got into her car where she stared through the windshield for twenty minutes before she was able to shake herself out of her thoughts.

She couldn’t break her bond with Lily, they had shared some of the best years of her life together - she couldn’t just pour that down the drain. It was selfish to do such a thing especially since Lily was still out there in pain and scared and confused. It wasn’t fair for her to be left completely on her own to feel those things.

But it had been a year. How was Eleanor expected to move on if she continued to hold onto the past? She thought of all of the good things that had happened in her life since she had decided to move from Portland. She’d done a great deal of growing but none of that mattered if she continued to live in the past.

Eleanor had a lot to think about, that was for sure.

[benkyoutobentou]

31 Days of Productivity Reading: Retrospective

This ended up being an entire essay so I had to make it into its own post!

How did my goals turn out? I'm so glad you asked.

Finish No. 6 volume 3

[X] Read [half of] 憎らしい彼

Read 独り舞

Read at least ten volumes of manga

[30/31] Read at least an hour per day

Personally, I think I did alright with my goals, especially considering how busy I was during the first few weeks of the month. I only missed my reading goal one day out of the month! I'm happy with that! That one miss was definitely odd though. The very next day, I found myself debating if I should still hit the hour mark. After all, I had already missed one day. What's one more? But I squashed that thought and continued on as though I never missed at all. Missing only once is better than missing twice!

During the course of this challenge, I finished twelve books (two novels and ten manga volumes) and started one more novel. The two novels I finished were No. 6 volume three by Asano Atsuko and 独り舞 by Li Kotomi, the novel I started but didn't get around to finishing was 憎らしい彼 by Nagira Yuu (which is the second book in the美しい彼 series). The manga volumes that I read were 僕らの地球の歩き方 (5) by Sorai Mone, 光が死んだ夏 (4) by Mokmok Len, ベルサイユのばら (1, 2) by Ikeda Riyoko, ３月のライオン (5) by Umino Chica, and ロンリーガールに逆らえない (1-5) by Kashikaze. If I were forced to pick a favorite of the month, I think I would have to choose volume five of ボクチキ but I feel like that's kind of cheating, since it's already my favorite manga series. Most of what I read during the month ended up being continuations of series that I had previously started reading, and I only read two completely new to me things (独り舞 and ロンガル).

Did my physical tbr shrink during this challenge? No! Not at all! Yikes! At the beginning of the month, I got a huge package of eighteen books from a lovely friend over on Instagram who doesn't read Japanese and was getting rid of them anyways. Then, I found the entirety of Basara at a used book shop and picked up the first five volumes. I want to start reading more older and classic shoujo, so this was the perfect opportunity to pick up a series that I probably wouldn't have read otherwise. So in the end, my Japanese tbr ended up expanding by thirteen books, but at least it didn't expand by twenty three, right?

As much as this challenge was a success, it was also a failure. I started this challenge to encourage myself to prioritize reading in my schedule and, honestly, that didn't happen as much as I had hoped. I talked a bit about this with a neighbor who wants to practice piano more, but I think that sometimes, putting emphasis on something can create a mental block, no matter how much you enjoy the activity. Especially with a challenge like this, I constantly felt like I had to have enough time to read. What even is enough time to read? Instead of picking up a book whenever and wherever, I was trying to force time for it, which just ended up making it so that I would push off reading until the very end of the day. It's the same as with practicing piano. If you stop to play a little song when you have five minutes, you'll probably play a lot more in the day than if you specifically try to find enough time for a full hour long practice session. Often, those little pick ups turn into a lot more if you let them.

I mentioned this a bit before, but I'd like to say it again and possibly expand on it. I think I'd like to bring this challenge back in a few months, but instead of focusing on time spent, focus more on page count. This would encourage those small pick ups rather than discourage them, as I felt this timing method did. Each time I wanted to read, I had to start the timer, stop it every time I got interrupted, and overall it was kind of a pain. Definitely not the ideal reading circumstances.

One thing that I did like about the timing system was being able to see my average reading speed. My average speed ended up being a little bit faster than what I had previously thought! My guess before this was about five minutes per novel page. I'm not a whole lot faster than that, but small progress is still progress! It was also interesting to see how my reading speed differed between different manga series and wh that was. I read some series that I knew were slower reads for me (３月のライオン) and some that I knew would be easier (ロンガル) but actually seeing the differences in the way the manga was written and drawn and how that related to my reading speed was interesting. I didn't get to all the manga series I wanted to in the end, but I won't stop reading just because this challenge is over.

Overall, I am really glad that I did this challenge. I had a lot of fun writing these updates each day and I am glad that I got through some books on my tbr, even if I would have liked to have made a bit more progress than I did. Expect to see more of this in the future! Just, maybe not the super near future. I'm also thinking of other fun reading challenges to do... Someone I follow on Instagram has an immersion bingo board that they complete each month, so maybe I could do that with my Japanese rads? Much to be considered... Until next time!

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 10 - Velvet glove around an iron fist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

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Chapter 10 - Velvet glove around an iron fist

chapter word count: 1.8k words

~Chan's POV~

I'm a fucking fool. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Replaying last night's events, I couldn't believe how I acted. I should've been composed. Emilia didn't exactly do anything wrong. I was the one to shut her out.

"Thanks God she left the room!" Hyo exclaimed with a chuckle. "Doesn't she sense that no one wants her here?"

"Don't be like that." I scolded her. "She's also part of SKZ."

"Chris, it's time you face the truth: no one wants her here. Why not just kill her as we were supposed to in the first place? It's clear she can't be trusted." she asked with no hesitation, shrugging.

"Being in a Mafia, you should know better than anyone the value a human life holds." I replied sternly. "Why do you hate her so much, anyway?"

"Are you seriously asking me this? Here: we have a living proof." She pointed to the baby after feeding him a last spoon of puree.

"All we have are speculations, you know that." Felix intervened and got up from the table, annoyance in his tone. "What are we gonna do with this anyway? We can't keep the baby."

"Why not?!" Hyo raised her tone in a whine and stood up.

"You seriously want to raise it?!" Felix continued.

"Of course I do! It's my only chance at motherhood! You know that!"

"Hyo..." I petted her back. I knew how much her heart hurt. Even Felix avoided her look and left the room after hearing her painful words.

Growing up in a Mafia does have advantages, but it also comes with a high price. Anything can happen to you. You can be murdered, tortured, or have part of your identity snatched off – and Hyo was no exception to this. She was an instance of plans going awry; of us failing and arriving too late.

What she suffered through when we failed to get her in time deemed her infertile, and this has been a well-known unspoken fact between SKZ. It's also been the reason why we funded an orphanage as part of our side projects.

"What, Chris?! Do you also want to tell me to get rid of him?!"

"I don't want to tell you to do anything. If you want to keep raising him, you should. But you know that this isn't the place to do so, don't you?"

"..."

"What good would it do him to grow up here? He should have a chance at a normal life. And by all means, if that's what you want to give him yourself... I will support you unconditionally. We'll get you a house, a normal job. You can close off this chapter of your life. He can go to the best school there is-"

"But-"

"OR- we can send him to the orphanage, we'll continue taking care of him and he will have the same opportunities I described above. You can stay in SKZ, visit him whenever you want and spend as much time as you want with him- no questions asked. But he can't stay here."

"But Chris..."

"I'm sorry Hyo. That's how it's going to be."

"... okay." she let her head down.

"We'll talk with Jisung and send him off tomorrow, yea?"

"Can... can we send him off next week?" she started crying. But what point would it be to pull the plug later?

Before getting the chance to answer, I noticed Hyunjin enter the room. He stared at us with a bewildered look.

"You back?" I asked. "Where did you take her?"

"To the greenhouse."

"I see..."

"Everything alright here?" he pointed to me and Hyo, who was crying her heart out.

I rubbed my nape and looked at her as well.

"Yes... Anyway... as I was saying, Hyo... he leaves tomorrow. So... Hyunjin, what did you and Emilia talk about?"

~ PRESENT DAY ~

In retrospect, I should've paid more attention. Maybe if I did, none of this would've happened.

Why?

Why didn't I pay more attention?

Now my hands are stained with her blood and no matter how hard I wash them, the warm feeling of it won't go away.

Crimson red and warm.

Why? Why did things end up like this?

How could I be so blind?

Why?

Why?

Why?!

It's all my fault.

~

~1 year and one month before Present Day~

~two weeks after sending the baby to the Orphanage~

Now was not the time to keep this madness going.

No matter how I, Emilia, Hyo or anyone else was feeling, we had to keep pushing forward. We had important plans to carry out and couldn't let any feelings get in the way.

"So... why are we here?" Jisung asked, unsure of why I summoned him, Momo and Emilia to my office.

"Momo, please fill us in. But first, where's Hyo?" I redirected the attention to Momo.

"Of course. She is... uhm... in her room... anyways, word's got out that the shipment has been delayed by about 6 to 9 months, but on the bright side-"

"6 to 9 months? That's more than half a year!"I exclaimed, surprised. I couldn't believe my ears, especially since this has never happened before.

"Yes... I'm sorry, Chris. Our provider was pretty upset of Hyo's no-show last week..."

"Wait, what's this about?" Emilia asked.

"Gun trade." Momo explained quickly. "We were about to receive the newest weapons on the market, even paid a pretty million for them."

"Stop right there. Are you seriously telling me that Hyo didn't show up?"

"You know she's been inconsolable these weeks... barely got out of bed."

"Fucking hell. And you're only letting me know now?!"

"I also didn't know... We had a second meeting planned out for this morning, as you know, and thankfully they still came to see me, even if Hyo messed up big time... I found out today. I'm really sorry, Chris."

"I don't even know what to say." I replied, truly disappointed by this turn of events. "A no-show? Christ..."

"Anyway... you said there's a bright side?" Han inquired.

"Yes. I negotiated with them, and they agreed to let us receive 5 bags up-front when we seal the deal tomorrow. Their own stack, they said. We could start selling those... But they had one condition."

"Which is?"

"They want Hyo to come apologise for standing them up and... another 200k. Delays cost money."

"Sorry to interrupt-" Emilia said. "- but when was the shipment supposed to come initially?"

"In two months' time. Not anymore, though." Momo replied, eyeing Chan.

"Han, go grab Hyo really fast for me, would you?"

~Emilia's POV~

"Han, go grab Hyo really fast for me, would you?" Chan commanded, face becoming darkened with quiet rage. This reminded me of the night I met him – of how afraid I felt of him.

He could be gentle, yes, but when he was angry... he was a scary man. A velvet glove around an iron fist would be the best way to describe him.

You definitely didn't want that anger targeted to you, ever.

"I don't think that's a good idea..." Momo tried to reason with him, but he was having none of it.

~

"Did you want to see me?" Hyo asked as soon as she stepped in front of Chan's desk. Her gaze was stuck on the floor, like it was the most interesting thing she's ever seen.

"Why else would you be here?" he replied sternly.

"..."

"Do you even know what you've done?"

"I... I just... couldn't..." she cried out.

"You couldn't what? Do your job? Is that why you chose to stay here, to be a thorn in my side?!"

"... I tried, but I couldn't get out of bed..."

"That's when you should've come to me, or to Momo... you should've told someone to make sure we don't mess this up! You know how many resources we've invested so far in this business. If we lose contact to our dealers, how the fuck are we going to keep the market going?! Gosh..."

"I know... you're right... it's all my fault."

Chan sighed deeply and massaged his temples, calming himself down.

"... This is the first time this ever happened, so... as long as you know what you've done..."

What? Is that all he's going to say to her?!

I couldn't believe it.

"How can I fix this?" Hyo asked, tears streaming down her face.

"They requested an apology from you."

"I'll- I'll do it! Seriously!"

"... Momo, I want you to give all the details about these people to Emilia and Han. Both of them will come with you two tomorrow to receive the goods. All clear?"

All of us nodded and started exiting the room, until Chan spoke again:

"Emilia, wait a sec. I need to talk to you for a bit."

We waited for everyone else to leave, and when we were finally alone, only an awkward and tense atmosphere between us remained.

"So, what do you want?" I asked, coldly.

"Nothing much. Just... how are you these days?"

"Uhm... okay, I guess?"

"You don't look so okay... Have you been sleeping?"

"You're the one to talk? Your eyebags are a deeper shade of black than Mariana's Trench."

"Pfft." He chuckled.

"That's not funny. You should take care of yourself Chris..."

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do. This place needs someone to lead it, after all."

"No... that's not what I meant... do you mean that?"

I understood exactly what he was asking me, but I still felt angry at how little regard he's shown me the last time we spoke... which was exactly 2 weeks ago.

Half a month without a single word.

"I don't know what you want from me, Chris. All's fine. So, can I leave now?"

"How?"

"... how... what?" I asked perplexed.

"How am I supposed to fix us?"

"Oh, now there's an 'us'? Don't mess with me, please. Actually, make sure you're not making something out of nothing." I stared at him blankly, turning his own words against him.

It felt petty to reply like that, but what else was I supposed to do? All this pent-up rage has been going nowhere these weeks. The only pieces left of our relationship covered the canvas in Hyunjin's greenhouse: all black. Gone.

What's more, Chan ignored me all this time. He didn't spare even a glance my way. And now he dares to talk about "us"?

"I miss you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" he stood up and started coming towards me, making me take a cautious step back whenever he would take one further.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. I've been missing you like crazy. I was an idiot."

"St-stay back, will you?"

My back soon hit the wall behind me as my eyes frantically searched for an escape route.

"Emi, I miss you, and I'm so incredibly sorry. I promise I will do better. Please forgive me." He spoke gently, making my heart melt. "I don't know what you did to me, but God... I can't even sleep without you. It's been agonizing without you. So please..."

He arrived in front of me and placed his right hand on my cheek, lifting my face to look at him.

Fuck this weak heart.

What should I do? I thought, knowing damn well how powerless I was when it came to him. I closed my eyes shut, but I still felt him on my skin, fingers grazing my cheek tenderly, his strong cologne intoxicating my thoughts. 

Would it really be so bad... if I gave in?

He pressed his lips on mine and, without overthinking it any further, I reciprocated the kiss, trying to forget all the bad memories we've made.

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Chapter 9 | Chapter 11