#this project has been going on for so so long

[hy6erion]

viktor and jayce fighting over you??

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐨

1. The Scientific Method (or How to Win You Over)

It starts subtly—at least, as subtle as Jayce can manage.

“You know,” he says, leaning against your desk, broad shoulders blocking your view of the latest schematics, “I was thinking—you and I should go out sometime. Just the two of us. For research purposes.”

You don’t even have time to process before Viktor, seated across from you, speaks without looking up from his own work.

“Research into what? The effects of secondhand embarrassment?”

Jayce shoots him a glare. “Into team bonding, Viktor.”

“Mm. And what hypothesis are you testing? That you can single-handedly drive them to madness?” Viktor hums, scratching something in his notes. “A bold assumption, but I suppose it is not entirely unfounded.”

Jayce turns back to you, ignoring him. “Dinner. Drinks. Maybe some—”

“A headache,” Viktor mutters.

Jayce groans, running a hand down his face before pointing at you. “You. Pick a side here.”

You exhale, setting down your pen. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.”

“We aren’t arguing,” Viktor says at the same time Jayce huffs, “We are arguing.”

You stare at them both. They stare at each other.

This has been happening for weeks.

It’s not always this obvious—sometimes it’s in the little things, the way Viktor always ensures your coffee is warm but lets Jayce suffer with whatever’s left in the pot. Or how Jayce somehow always has an extra set of tools whenever you’re missing yours, grinning like he wasn’t just waiting for the opportunity.

And the way they bicker—gods, it never ends.

“Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Jayce, we can do dinner. And Viktor, you can join.”

Jayce groans, throwing his head back. “Not the third-wheel invitation—”

“I accept,” Viktor interrupts smoothly.

Jayce turns to him, expression wounded. “Dude.”

“You do not own them, Jayce.”

“Neither do you!”

Viktor just smiles.

You take another sip of your coffee. This is going to be a long night.

2. The Art of Winning (or Just Being Petty)

“Y/n, my dearest, most trusted lab partner,” Viktor says, sidling up next to you while you’re examining some blueprints. “You are an artist of unparalleled skill. Would you mind assisting me with some designs?”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can answer, Jayce materializes from across the room.

“Woah, woah, hold on, I was just about to ask them for help.”

Viktor tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Just about to? How convenient.”

Jayce narrows his eyes. “You knew I was gonna ask them—”

“Mm. And yet, I asked first.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Time is linear, Jayce. Surely you understand this.”

Jayce looks ready to explode.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You both know I have other work to do, right?”

They don’t. They definitely don’t.

But Jayce recovers first, flashing you his most charming smile. “C’mon, you know I have the bigger project right now—”

“Size does not determine quality, Jayce,” Viktor interrupts. “By that logic, your brain should be much more effective.”

Jayce’s jaw drops. “Did you just—?”

“Mm?” Viktor takes a slow sip of his tea.

You sigh, turning away before you witness a murder. “I’m flipping a coin. Heads, I help Jayce. Tails, I help Viktor.”

Jayce’s shoulders relax. “That seems fair.”

Viktor hums, noncommittal.

You flip. The coin lands. You glance at it.

Then, you slap it onto your palm before either of them can see and say, “I’m helping myself today.”

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, and Jayce groans, dropping his head onto the nearest surface.

“Brilliant,” Viktor murmurs. “I am rubbing off on you.”

Jayce mumbles something into the desk. You pat his shoulder in consolation before walking away, leaving them to their stalemate.

3. The Heart of the Matter (Or: Maybe They’re Not as Subtle as They Think)

At some point, you begin to wonder if they even know what they’re fighting over.

Because it’s not just lab work. It’s not just projects, or coffee, or who gets to sit next to you during meetings.

It’s you.

And they’re both smart enough to know it, even if neither of them says it outright.

It’s in the way Jayce’s gaze lingers whenever you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound. The way Viktor’s voice softens when he murmurs your name, careful, like he knows the weight it holds.

It’s in how they both wait for you at the end of the day, pretending it’s just coincidence.

It’s in the way Viktor watches Jayce’s arm brush against yours and says nothing, but his fingers tighten around his cane. In how Jayce watches Viktor pull you in to murmur something close and he says nothing, but his jaw tenses.

It’s in the way neither of them will ever say it—but neither of them will yield, either.

And you?Well.

You just let them fight.

[caffeineandviolins]

FOR THOSE WHO CANNOT READ THE ARTICLE: PART ONE

Elon Musk’s takeover of federal government infrastructure is ongoing, and at the center of things is a coterie of engineers who are barely out of—and in at least one case, purportedly still in—college. Most have connections to Musk, and at least two have connections to Musk’s longtime associate Peter Thiel, a cofounder and chair of the analytics firm and government contractor Palantir who has long expressed opposition to democracy.WIRED has identified six young men—all apparently between the ages of 19 and 24, according to public databases, their online presences, and other records—who have little to no government experience and are now playing critical roles in Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) project, tasked by executive order with “modernizing Federal technology and software to maximize governmental efficiency and productivity.” The engineers all hold nebulous job titles within DOGE, and at least one appears to be working as a volunteer.

The engineers are Akash Bobba, Edward Coristine, Luke Farritor, Gautier Cole Killian, Gavin Kliger, and Ethan Shaotran. None have responded to requests for comment from WIRED. Representatives from OPM, GSA, and DOGE did not respond to requests for comment.The six men are one part of the broader project of Musk allies assuming key government positions. Already, Musk’s lackeys—including more senior staff from xAI, Tesla, and the Boring Company—have taken control of the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) and General Services Administration (GSA), and have gained access to the Treasury Department’s payment system, potentially allowing him access to a vast range of sensitive information about tens of millions of citizens, businesses, and more. On Sunday, CNN reported that DOGE personnel attempted to improperly access classified information and security systems at the US Agency for International Development and that top USAID security officials who thwarted the attempt were subsequently put on leave. The Associated Press reported that DOGE personnel had indeed accessed classified material.

What we're seeing is unprecedented in that you have these actors who are not really public officials gaining access to the most sensitive data in government,” says Don Moynihan, a professor of public policy at the University of Michigan. “We really have very little eyes on what's going on. Congress has no ability to really intervene and monitor what's happening because these aren't really accountable public officials. So this feels like a hostile takeover of the machinery of governments by the richest man in the world.”Bobba has attended UC Berkeley, where he was in the prestigious Management, Entrepreneurship, and Technology program. According to a copy of his now-deleted LinkedIn obtained by WIRED, Bobba was an investment engineering intern at the Bridgewater Associates hedge fund as of last spring and was previously an intern at both Meta and Palantir. He was a featured guest on a since-deleted podcast with Aman Manazir, an engineer who interviews engineers about how they landed their dream jobs, where he talked about those experiences last June.

Coristine, as WIRED previously reported, appears to have recently graduated from high school and to have been enrolled at Northeastern University. According to a copy of his résumé obtained by WIRED, he spent three months at Neuralink, Musk’s brain-computer interface company, last summer.Both Bobba and Coristine are listed in internal OPM records reviewed by WIRED as “experts” at OPM, reporting directly to Amanda Scales, its new chief of staff. Scales previously worked on talent for xAI, Musk’s artificial intelligence company, and as part of Uber’s talent acquisition team, per LinkedIn. Employees at GSA tell WIRED that Coristine has appeared on calls where workers were made to go over code they had written and justify their jobs. WIRED previously reported that Coristine was added to a call with GSA staff members using a nongovernment Gmail address. Employees were not given an explanation as to who he was or why he was on the calls.

Farritor, who per sources has a working GSA email address, is a former intern at SpaceX, Musk’s space company, and currently a Thiel Fellow after, according to his LinkedIn, dropping out of the University of Nebraska—Lincoln. While in school, he was part of an award-winning team that deciphered portions of an ancient Greek scroll.

Elon Musk’s takeover of federal government infrastructure is ongoing, and at the center of things is a coterie of engineers who are barely out of—and in at least one case, purportedly still in—college. Most have connections to Musk, and at least two have connections to Musk’s longtime associate Peter Thiel, a cofounder and chair of the analytics firm and government contractor Palantir who has long expressed opposition to democracy.WIRED has identified six young men—all apparently between the ages of 19 and 24, according to public databases, their online presences, and other records—who have little to no government experience and are now playing critical roles in Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) project, tasked by executive order with “modernizing Federal technology and software to maximize governmental efficiency and productivity.” The engineers all hold nebulous job titles within DOGE, and at least one appears to be working as a volunteer.

Additional reporting by Zoë Schiffer and Tim Marchman.

It should be accurate, but if possible, please compare with the original as I used my last free article to copy-paste! Spread the word!

These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.

Akash Bobba

Edward Coristine

Luke Farritor

Gautier Cole Killian

Gavin Kliger

Ethan Shaotran

Spread their names!

[chrattho1]

matt sturniolo blurb

“feels good?”

summary: matt has had a long day,but looking at you use his thigh, he’s not so tired anymore.

warnings: thigh riding, use of pet names (baby), mentions of having sex,established relationship.

a/n: inspired by this ask!

“hey” matt greeted lowly,entering your room. he had a long day full of meetings and finalising projects.

“hey baby” you open your arms for him to hug you,while you were still on the bed.

“how was your day?” you ask knowing that he probably was stressed throughout the day,matt without breaking the hug lays on you,his head in the crook of your neck.

“too much,what about you?” he asked looking up at you.

“i missed you” you said maintaining the low voice you both have been conversing in.

“yeah?” matt said pulling himself up to hover over you,he slowly leans in with a smile,he gets close enough that his teeth clink with yours before he catches your lips,pulling you into a deep kiss.

“feels good? yeah?” matt’s hands draped around your hips tightly as he watched you slowly grind on his covered thigh,he watches you nod in response and that makes his breath hitch.

you pleasuring yourself on his thigh made him insane-you both don’t know how you got here,you on top of him riding his thigh.

“oh-matt” you drop your head in the crook of his neck,fastening your movement,the fabric of his jeans hitting the perfect spots under your panties.

“so pretty-keep going baby,cum for me” matt brought your face up from his neck,wanting to look at it,before leaning in and placing a soft kisses down your neck.

“fuck—feels so good” your hands grip his shoulders tightly,moaning your way through the grinds that felt so good. why haven’t you done this before?-you think.

your hands reach up to your tits,rubbing and teasing your nipples through your thin shirt,as your eyes roll back shut.

“fuck this is so hot” matt said under his breath,not believing the sight in front,he is painfully hard and might just cum looking at you pleasure yourself on his thigh.

“so-,so close” your brows knit together,your movements growing hasty and sloppy.

“cum for me baby,come on” matt’s grip on your hips helping you grind on his thigh harder.

the knot in your stomach crashes down and so do you,trembling and shaking on top of matt,painting your underwear and his jeans.

matt’s hands find your stomach under the shirt,feeling your skin tense from the orgasm.

you look up at him with reddened cheeks and glossy eyes,to catch him looking at you with a smirk

“what?” you frown

“need you on your hands and knees,now please” he replies.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

[leonardalphachurch]

Burnie’s AMA podcast about Rooster Teeth’s revival is now available to the public and so I’m going to summarizing the relevant questions that were answered here.

Why?

“It’s because we could […] If we don’t do it who will?” Throughout the episode, Burnie also mentioned: not wanting RT to become lost media; wanting to create opportunities for himself/past employees of the company; wanting to work with old properties again; being able to collaborate with new talent; and the Rooster Teeth brand being good marketing. “One of the main motivators for this was preserving the media, and I’m happy to say, it is preserved.”

Also spoken about over multiple questions, Burnie says that Warner Brothers might have been planning to sell off the whole company, including employees etc., and he did not want (/couldn’t afford) to buy it then. It was only after the shutdown, after it became clear the WB was selling off individual shows, that Burnie started trying to buy things. I mention this specifically because I’ve seen a lot of people talk as if the company itself is coming back; it is not. What Burnie owns right now is the brand and IP rights to a lot of the properties. The actual “company” of Rooster Teeth is actually Burnie’s production company “Box Canyon Productions” and right now only has two employees.

What properties does Rooster Teeth still own?

“It’s a very, very long list.” Burnie says they have the rights over 50 shows, some specifically named ones being The RT Podcast, Red vs Blue, and The Know. Most of the shows that were hosted on the Rooster Teeth YouTube channel were a part of the acquisition. Nothing from Achievement Hunter, Funhaus, or RWBY are owned by RT anymore. Heavy emphasis was put on AH no longer being under RT’s brand anymore.

Are the scope of these new projects going to be more in line with smaller content like the RT Shorts, or is the hope to try and focus on larger productions like Day 5, The Schedule, or Lazer Team?

“The sweet spot for scale is going all the way back to the early episodes of Red vs Blue.” The focus is going to be on “compelling writing and great characters,” and making projects with smaller productions. Throughout the episode they reiterated that their main focus is going to be on individual projects and shows.

Does this mean there are hopes of getting a complete boxset of RvB?

“I also would love a complete boxset of Red vs Blue.” Burnie says he wants to do this, but doing physical media in 2025 is complicated and a financial risk, so they’re going to have to figure out how it would be done. He mentions possibly doing a preorder for it.

What happens if this just fails again?

“It’s not bulletproof, but I don’t know what it would take for us to have to shutter this thing at this point.” Burnie says that they’re already profitable, that they maintain themselves, and that unless they do something that would put them in tremendous amounts of debt, as long as YouTube still remains a platform that lets them host videos, he’s not worried about the company shutting down.

Could this lead to some of the old RT merch being available again?

“Yeah, it would have to be within the brands we’re talking about.” They talk about there being a lot of old merch, so figuring out how to provide the specific pieces that people want will be a challenge. Burnie how his personal philosophies on making merchandise in a way that does not produce “junk” may also make selling merch more difficult. Ashley says it is going to be a “slow start.”

More questions were answered and things discussed on the episode but this is what I found to be important to share here.

The TL;DR of RvB news: They do own the Red vs Blue IP. There was no confirmation or denial of any future continuations of the show, but we will very likely be getting a boxset and some old merch returning.

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | six.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 6.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora spends time with her uncle mingi, first date <33, yunho opens up about his parents to oc, holding hands, good conversations & just a bunch of cute simp shit, goodnight kisses 🥰, i swear things will get a lil spicier next chap lmao

yunho: goodmorning. 😊

This morning had been one of those mornings. You had gotten up a little later than usual, feeling tired from the exhausting week. On top of that, you turned down Yunho's offer to bring you to work so that you wouldn't have to take the bus over; afraid you'd be asking for too much since he was gonna be driving around later tonight. Had you known the bus would be running late, you might've taken him up on it. But, with it being Friday, you were just excited to get your day over with so that you could hang out with Yunho one-on-one.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was busy as soon as you walked in this morning. A blessing because the day would breeze on by. A curse because you didn't even get a chance to respond to Yunho's cute lil text before jumping right into your task list. Until, your desktop computer decided to be stubborn and stop working properly— setting you behind even more than you already were due to the commute.

you: hi, goodmorning ☺️

you: i'm sorry for the late response! i'm having quite the morning. i have so much to do, but my desktop isn't working now. i feel so incomplet and useless. 😭

yunho: it's okay! not like i thought you forgot about me or anything .. 🥲

you: lol sorry, never!

yunho: wdym it's not working?

you: it won't stay on. keeps going on power save mode even though my settings are adjusted to never go on power save mode.

yunho: interesting. where do you sit in the peds hospital again?

you: 4th floor, M103.

yunho: i'll be over in a sec.

you: yunho?? you don't even support our unit 😭

yunho: and? lol. i have time. brb!

"What?" You mutter to yourself as you set your phone down, a little worried about Yunho getting in trouble or pushing off his work to help you. You shrug it off, scribbling in your planner and working through emails on your laptop until Yunho swings by.

Which, didn't take him long post-reply. He was at your cubicle about 15 minutes later.

"Hey." Yunho says softly.

"Hi." You shyly laugh. "How did you even get in here?"

"IT has access everywhere, believe it or not." He smiles before pointing at your desktop. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go for it." He pulls up an empty office chair nearby and drags it over to your desk, sitting comfortably as he presses the power button. He presses it a few times and clicks away at your mouse until the screen pops up. 

"Hm." He hums. "Took awhile."

"It's gonna shut down on you."

"Is that what's been happening?"

"Mhm. Just now actually. When I get it back up and running, it'll let me work for a few minutes before it shuts off and goes into power mode randomly." He's click-clacking away on the keyboard, forehead tightly knit as he eventually rests his elbow on the desk— hand hovering over his mouth, with the other on the mouse.

"How old is your computer?"

"I don't know, maybe 8-10 years old? It was passed down from the previous project manager when I stepped into her role."

"Yikes." He laughs. "I'll try a few things, but might also be a good time to consider getting a new one." He starts pulling up the terminal and plugging in some code— language you definitely don't understand.

"Yeah, I know."

"You actively push data or other work to the cloud, right? So you have a backup and can pull it up anywhere?"

"Mhm."

"Good." He gives you a small smirk. "Then, getting a replacement wouldn't be so bad. You deserve it." You laugh.

"Hope the department thinks so."

"I mean, you do need a working computer to get your things done." He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, slightly slumped in his position. "I just plugged in a code to mimic the movement of your mouse so the computer thinks something is always happening. If you look closely at the pointer, you can see it twitching a bit." You look up close on the screen and manage to see what he's talking about.

"Woah. Okay, genius."

"Not even." He laughs. "If you don't mind me being in your space for a little longer, I wanna see if this keeps your computer awake."

"As long as it isn't taking up unnecessary time and making you behind."

"Never." He smiles at you. "So."

"So." You mimic him. "Where are you taking me later?"

"For me to know and you to find out." You snort.

"Clever. Am I dressed enough for the occasion?" Yunho eyes your outfit, running a finger across his bottom lip while he smirks at you. 

"Yeah, you look good. You always do." You playfully push him on the bicep, making him laugh. "What? I can't be honest?"

"Hey— oh? Oops. Hi Yunho." Noeul gives you a look before slowly walking away. 

"Hey Noeul." 

"I'll come back later." She mouths out as Yunho gives off a small chuckle. Suddenly, he shifts his attention back to your computer when he notices the screen go black, and he's back to sitting up again. 

"Damn." He tries fiddling with the mouse and keyboard again. "Guess that didn't work. I think this is a hardware issue now, but .." He turns to you with the same smirk he was sporting earlier when he was spitting out those compliments. "Since your computer is pretty old, I can't say it won't act up again if you get this serviced."

"So, you're saying a new computer is definitely the way to go." He nods.

"You deserve it." He stands as he reminds you. "You should think about getting a 38" monitor instead of having two. It's basically the equivalent and helps with productivity."

"What are some good ones?"

"I can send you some recs in a bit. I'm sorry you'll have to work from your laptop for now. But, whatever you order, I can help make sure it gets to you ASAP and I'll help set it up."

"Yunho." You slightly pout as he's slowly walking out of your cubicle.

"No but's. I got you." He looks down at his watch. "Anyway, gotta head back."

"See, don't tell me you have tons of stuff to catch up on now because of me?"

"I doooon't." He almost whines with a small laugh. He totally does. He's actually kinda swamped, but he made it over anyway because seeing you is nice. "See you later?" You nod and giggle. "I'll text you when I'm all wrapped up on my end."

"Okay. Thank you again."

"No worries." He playfully sends you a wink before walking off and out of the office area. Noeul finally comes creeping up to your cubicle, squealing at a low tone.

"Stop, he's so into you."

"Don't start." You bite onto your bottom lip as you continue to keep your eyes glued onto the tiny laptop screen.

"Where is he taking you? Did he say anything?"

"Nope. I am completely in the dark."

"Those are the best kinda dates. He's gonna take good care of you."

"I just wanna get out of here." You whine as your place your head down on your desk for a few minutes.

"You will! And the wait will be worth it!" You look up at her and let out a small sigh, nodding your head.

"You're right. Let me tackle all of this so I can get outta here sooner than later."

"And hang out with your man, yes!" She leans against your desk. "By the way, what'd he say about your computer?"

"Oh, this thing is done with. I need a new one. I'm just waiting for Yunho to send me some recs."

"Been telling you that."

"Well, it kept me going for some time." You pat the top of the monitor screen. "It was nice while it lasted."

"I love this for you, you know that? Upgrading your computer, your love life. This era is cute." You chuckle and shake your head.

"Go. I gotta get back to work." You push her along, making her giggle at how obviously flustered you are over the topic.

yunho: some recs for the boss lady!

You see Yunho's Slack message come in, along with links from the IT catalog. 

yunho: this CPU should do you good, along with the 38". 😮‍💨

you: haha, thank you. 😊 i'll place my order right now!

yunho: can you send me your ticket number so i can keep an eye on it?

you: maybe....

yunho: ☹️☹️☹️☹️

you: you have too much other work to worry about!

yunho: including your ticket, yes!

you: you're unbelievable. 😂

yunho: you can always opt out for tonight (ouch) ..... 😖

you: never! lol. i'm excited actually. ☺️

yunho: i am, too. 

You smile to yourself during the brief pause in between messages, unsure how to respond to Yunho without sounding like you're doing too much or saying something crazy. But, the Slack notification goes off again—

yunho: okay, i actually gtg and help jihoon with something.

yunho: seriously send me your ticket number after you're done, pls!

Pause.

yunho: can't wait to spend time with you, y/n.

And all that overthinking goes straight out the window.

you: same. 😌

Seora had a long day at school— her day filled with a bunch of tests and pop quizzes, damn near dragging herself out of the classroom and into the gym afterward. She happily talks with her friends as they change into their practice gear, joking around and being the typical girls they are as they get out onto the floor with their water bottles. After equal wins and losses, the coach decides to continue running and improving plays to push the team forward to the playoffs and hopefully, a championship win. 

When practice wraps up, Seora grabs her things and finds her other favorite uncle talking to some of the parents outside of the gym; sweat still on her face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. When his eyes finally land on hers, he gives Seora's hair a good ruffle before taking her bags from her.

"Ace!"

"Uncle Mangi!" She copies his tone and laughs.

"How was practice?"

"Tiring. I'm pooped. I can barely feel my legs today."

"Working hard, atta girl. On our way to the WNBA." He tosses her bags in the backseat before hopping in. "Hope you don't mind, I gotta stop at the grocery store really quickly for our dinner."

"Only if I can grab some snacks."

"Course you can. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner, though. I'm gonna make some galbijjim."

"Yum! One of my faves."

"Exactly." He laughs. "How was school today?"

"The usual. Nothing too special."

"Nothing too special? Nothing happened at all?"

"Nope. Too many tests and pop-quizzes. I did get an A on my math test, though."

"That's something." She nods as she looks out the window.

"So, my dad's got another team dinner?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"Impossible." 

"They've been working really hard on a lot of different things across the hospital lately. Helps relieve stress, I guess." One thing about Mingi is that he will never out Yunho the way Seonghwa unintentionally does. If Yunho's got a team dinner, Mingi will stick to the story down to the T. Maybe even throw in his own details and dramatics to make it more believable.

"He barely used to have team dinners."

"Well, maybe their goal was to have more!"

"Are you hiding something, Uncle Mangi? Cause Uncle Hwa accidentally spilled the beans last time and said dad was on a date."

"Why would your Uncle Hwa do that? Should I fight him?" Seora laughs and shakes her head. "He wasn't on a date."

"Uncle Mangi." He looks at her.

"Mhm?"

"Lying is bad."

"I'm not lying!" She continues to squint her eyes at him before finally giving up her case and settling back into the seat. 

"Fine. What about you then, Uncle Mangi? What's new? How was your trip to Japan?"

"Nothing much. But, it was good. Nice to be in different sceneries from time to time."

"Dad keeps saying we'll tag along one day, but we haven't yet. I wanna go soon."

"I'll let him know, don't worry."

"They must have soooo much cute stuff. Don't they?"

"Lots." Mingi pulls up to the grocery store, driving into a spot near the entrance. "You'd definitely love it there."

"Where else have you been, Uncle Mangi?" She follows alongside of her towering uncle while he grabs a cart and heads into the store.

"Everywhere and nowhere all at the same time." She laughs.

"Seriously."

"One place I'll always remember is Switzerland. It's beautiful there. Probably one of my top places I've been to."

"I'm sure. I've only seen it in books, but it looks really pretty."

"It is. Those textbook pics definitely don't do it enough justice." Mingi sorts through the meat packages while Seora quickly wanders off into an aisle to grab her favorite chips and cookies. She drops it into the cart, with Mingi barely noticing.

"I have a random question for you."

"Try me."

"Do you think it's better to lock yourself up in a grocery store like this during a zombie apocalypse or keep it moving?"

"Well." Mingi continues to slowly walk down the aisles, making sure he doesn't miss any ingredients on his mental grocery list needed for tonight's dinner. "I'd say keep it moving."

"Why? You'd have everything in here."

"That's if no one raids the store, which would be impossible at that time. Plus, it can only keep you safe for so long before zombies find their way in or another group comes around. You could quite literally die before you even have a chance to try and survive."

"You'd have to take a break at some point though, right?"

"You could, but always best to keep it moving, ace. Never leave a trail for people."

"Okay, touché."

"Cereal first or milk first?" Mingi suddenly asks as they go through the cereal section.

"Cereal."

"What? No. Did your dad teach you that?"

"What kind of planet are you living on? Isn't that how it normally is?" Mingi stops the cart and looks at her. 

"Warm or cold milk then?"

"For cereal?" Mingi nods. "Cold?!"

"You and your weird ass dad." Seora laughs loudly. "Did anybody want a child? Cause this one is not mine—" Seora pinches her uncle's bicep, causing him to yelp as they push through the remaining aisles.

"You soggy cereal lover." Seora points out.

"That's literally the best way to have it."

"Ew, you're like eating mushed up cardboard." Mingi sighs.

"You're very lucky I love you and that your dad is my bestfriend or else I would've blocked him."

"You're so dramatic." She throws more snacks into the cart just as they're about to head to the registers.

"Any more snacks or you're good?"

"I'm good! I'm excited for dinner." Mingi laughs.

"I am, too. Too bad I gotta cook it first."

"You're a great cook, Uncle Mangi. I always enjoy the food you make." She tugs on his sleeve.

"I do try my best." She helps her uncle load the groceries onto the belt, pulling the cart towards the end to help bag up their things and throw it back in. Mingi taps his card to the reader before helping Seora with the heavier bags. Once they've gathered all their things, Mingi pushes the cart over to the car, loading it up in his trunk while Seora plops into the front seat. "Ready to head home?"

"Yeah, dying to shake a shower." Mingi starts up the car and begins the journey home.

"Yeah, you need it." He teases, causing Seora to lightly punch him on the arm.

"You're mean!"

"Kidding!" He laughs. "So, what's on the agenda tonight? We eat, you do homework. Watch some shows? Talk a walk around the neighborhood?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat. I kinda have a bit of homework so I dunno about that walk. Plus, I'm pretty sore already."

"Okay, we'll play it by ear then." On the way home, Seora continues to tell Mingi about the staycation her father took her on and the new dog café they visited. She talks to him about her friends and how one of her friends started having a crush on one of the boys in their class. Mingi playfully gasps before lecturing her about boys and how icky they can be [coming from an honest heart]. But Seora laughs it off and tells her uncle that she's not really worried about that stuff.

All Mingi can say in response is 'you better not be.'

When the two finally get home, Mingi immediately sets himself up in the kitchen to get dinner going, while Seora throws her backpack down in the living room and heads straight to the shower. She takes a good, long shower before throwing on her pajamas and brushing through her wet hair. She sits on the living room floor and gets going with her homework while waiting for her uncle to finish cooking dinner.

Meanwhile, Yunho makes his way over to the peds hospital— happily stepping into the elevator to make his way back up to your office. When he gets there, he realizes most people have already clocked out and left for the day, only leaving you and a select few heads working away in the cubicles.

"Hey. Ready?" You smile as you look up at Yunho, sending one last meeting invite for next week before closing down your apps and shutting off your laptop.

"Yeah! I thought you were gonna text me so I could meet you halfway."

"Um, no." Yunho laughs. "I would much rather come get you so we can walk to the car together." 

"That's sweet." You throw on your coat and slide the bag strap over your shoulder. "So, how was the rest of your day?"

"Good. Not too crazy, at least."

"Did the offers go out to the candidates you were planning on hiring?"

"Oh, yeah! They actually signed earlier this week and they'll be starting next week. They were able to get the background checks cleared out in time."

"Aw, that's awesome! You guys will finally get help." 

"Yeah. It'll be busy for awhile getting them onboarded and trained."

"Yunho's gonna go MIA."

"Yunho is not gonna go MIA." He laughs. 

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, of course." He chuckles. "I'll always make time."

"You say that now."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on." He pinches your cheeks. "Don't trip." You smile feeling his warm touch against your skin. "Well, I didn't think it'd be so cold this evening. Are you okay with your coat and all? Is it enough?"

"It is."

"Okay, well just let me know. We'll be inside for the most part, but I want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you." You continue to walk alongside of Yunho until you get to his car. You give him the ins and outs of your day besides the whole computer issue that he tried to rescue you from while he grabs your bags and gently sets it in the trunk of his BMW and pops the door open for you. When you slide in and get comfortable, you notice how spotless his car is and how it smells like a hint of his cologne, along with laundry detergent and the fresh car smell. There are a few colorful hair ties lining the bottom of one of the cupholders, along with a hoodie in the backseat and a basketball. Yunho laughs and apologizes for Seora's mess— he also hasn't gotten a chance to bring in her things simply because he doesn't think much of it.

It almost feels like Seora is with him one way or another and he finds comfort in that.

On the drive over to dinner, he asks a bit about what other days look like for you and if you anticipate other big projects to come your way. You talk about a new project that was already mentioned to you by your manager, which involves remodeling one of the levels to a study/meeting area. You also tell Yunho it isn't a high priority, but you've already started the conversation with some of the facilities coordinators that can help rope in the appropriate vendors for certain tasks.

He transitions by telling you a few of the little projects he's been working on with his team, along with figuring out how to upgrade systems and all that jazz. You find that Yunho and his team are constantly working to support so many different departments, and it amazes you how well Yunho is able to delegate and keep himself afloat. You ask if he's ever had to work late because of really urgent issues and he says he's only had to do it once or twice— most can typically wait until the morning.

"Okay." He says, pulling into a tight, narrow street to start looking for parking. "We're here."

"I have no idea where we're at."

"Oh." Yunho laughs. "That's good then. More of a surprise for you. But, please keep your expectations down cause I didn't do much."

"Stop. Don't say things like that. I'll love it either way." Yunho smiles as he turns another corner and finds a spot right away. He parks flawlessly next to the curb, shutting off his car before turning back to you. 

"Ready?" You nod quietly, watching as Yunho hops out and does a light jog over to open the door for you. You give him a smile and tug on your coat while Yunho locks his door and leads the way next to you, hand on the small of your back. The walk isn't too far, the restaurant being down on the opposite end of the street, across the block. To your surprise, Yunho brings you to one of the new conveyor belt sushi restaurants. He greets the host and he immediately takes you back to a little booth near the belt. It's snug enough to fit two people. 

"I'm excited." You look at Yunho and he laughs.

"Same, I could eat. You like sushi, right? Please tell me I didn't fuck up." He looks concerned for a moment.

"No, no. I love sushi. I actually haven't had it in so long." You rearrange your set up so you can eat comfortably, the waiter taking your order for drinks. You both ask for water, but before the waiter can walk off, Yunho suddenly asks for two glasses of hot sake. 

"Thank you." He says, giving the waiter a curt nod.

"Sake?"

"Our little celebration for getting through the week."

"Wow, okay. Touché. I can get behind that." You look at him. "My birthday's coming up. You should come out with Mingi and Seonghwa. We're heading out to the club." You pause before shaking your head. "Or, actually, I'm being forced to go to the club to celebrate."

"Forced, hm?" He laughs. "That sounds fun, though. Send me the details. We'll definitely try to celebrate with you."

"Might be fun. We can be a fun group of people."

"Yeah?" Yunho likes that, you're down for things and he can tell you go with the flow. He likes someone who can just have fun with him. Someone who can just be with him; it wouldn't matter where they go or where their relationship takes them.

"Mhm. And I can tell you guys are fun." You laugh. "Seora must love having you as her dad."

"I hope so." Yunho laughs along. "By the way, feel free to start digging in." He gestures towards the moving conveyor belt and you happily start exploring your options as they come— taking a fresh plate of salmon nigiri to start off. The waiter quickly comes back with two glasses of hot sake, making Yunho smirk at you. He sets his chopsticks down and slides your glass over, raising his while you take yours. "Cheers? For getting through the week."

"Cheers!" You say cheerfully, tapping your glass against his before taking some of the hot sake down your throat. It burns, but the heat brings more warmth to your body on this cold evening. "Speaking of Seora, where is she right now now?" You drink a bit more before taking another plate off the belt.

"Spending time with her Uncle Mingi."

"That's cute." Yunho grabs a few plates and sets them aside while he decides which one he'll tackle first.

"She had practice and I had him go pick her up. I think they were heading to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner before heading home last time he texted me."

"What did you tell her?"

"Mm." He hums. "I hope you don't take it personally or anything, but I told her it was a team dinner."

"No, of course not."

"I just, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "It's just easier to go with that."

"I believe it." The both of you continue to eat away at the sushi, small, empty plates piling up on the side of the table. Small conversations continue about day-to-day life; you and your friends, what you've been doing for yourself lately. Suddenly, you dwell on the fact that you don't know much about Yunho besides his day-to-day life with Seora and work. You know about his friends, his coworkers. But, you don't know anything deeper about his personal life.

His parents.

You didn't wanna be nosy and pry, but you wondered why his parents weren't the ones watching Seora. 

Was it too much of you to ask?

Was this considered a real date if you two weren't trying to get to know each other? What were the boundaries?

"Yunho?"

"What's up?"

"Can I ask you something more personal?"

"Anything."

"I hope I'm not crossing boundaries here, but what about your parents? How come they don't watch Seora?"

"You're not crossing any boundaries." Yunho reassures you, but shakes his head before dipping into his next plate of sushi. "Uh, it's complicated. Things kinda just fell apart when Eunha passed." You slowly nod. "When my parents found out Eunha was pregnant, they didn't want us to continue with the pregnancy cause we were, what? 20 years old when we found out? Still in the midst of college. But, that's not what we wanted. They almost got to Eunha but we pushed through in the end and we had Seora. It was really hard for a long, long time, but Seora was worth every bit of it. My parents obviously didn't like the fact that we went against their wishes, so they kept their distance. It's been that way ever since, even when Eunha passed. I think it got worst, actually. Plus, I never had the best relationship with them from the get-go. They only see Seora once in a blue moon. They're the grandparents that just send the occasional bouts of money, birthday and holidays cards. Seora always wonders about them, but I can never give her an answer as to why her grandparents aren't around." 

"I'm sorry, Yunho."

"Don't be sorry." Yunho smiles a bit.

"W-what about Eunha's parents?" You wanna ask about Eunha too, but you know this isn't the time.

"Uh, they're the same. They—" He pauses. "They cut off ties when she passed because it was too hard for them."

"Oh. Yunho." You say sympathetically, feeling incredibly bad for having brought it up in the first place. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a debbie downer during dinner."

"No, it's okay. I promise. I've.. gotten used to it at this point. It used to be hard for me, but I've accepted everything."

"Still doesn't mean it doesn't get hard for you."

"I've learned to manage." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"I hope you know you're doing an amazing job balancing everything and for being a great father to Seora."

"Thanks." 

"I'm also glad you have Seonghwa and Mingi."

"Me too." He laughs. "They're a pain in my ass, but they're my bestfriends. I don't think I would have been able to get through a lot without them. And they're good to Seora."

"That's good, I'm glad." You eat a bit more before you feel yourself getting content and full.

"Full?"

"Damn near. I think I ate too fast." You chuckle. "I'm almost done with my sake."

"Bottoms up?" You nod, tapping your glass against his before the both of you take it to the neck. Yunho finishes up a few more plates before he sits back and gulps his water down, causing you to giggle to yourself. "Fuck, I'm full. Overdid it, for sure."

"Was worth every bit of it, though. Maybe we should walk it off?"

"Yeah. Let's head to the next stop. I think you'll like it. And we'll get our steps in." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, calling the waiter over.

"Can I split with you?"

"Absolutely not." Yunho says, handing over his card directly to him.

"You're already driving me everywhere and taking me to another location after this. The least I can do is chip in."

"Nope. The least you can do is just enjoy yourself with me tonight." He smiles sweetly just as he grabs the receipt handed to him by the waiter, signing off and tucking his own copy swiftly into his pocket before looking at you. 

"Couldn't even let me see the receipt."

"Nope." He repeats and stands. "Ready to go, pretty girl?" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stand and nod, leading the way out of the restaurant with Yunho in tow. He answers your questions on the way to the car, giving you hints about the next location. It still leaves you stumped in the end, deciding to let Yunho continue taking matters into his own hands with you. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, slipping into the driver's seat as he rubs his hands together and immediately turns the heat on when he starts the car. "All good? Too hot?"

"Just perfect."

"Good." You sit back comfortably as Yunho sets off for the next destination for tonight. "So, how was the sushi? Be honest."

"It was so good!" He looks at you when he comes to a red light, almost as if he's trying to read you, really read you, and you giggle. "What?"

"Just making sure."

"That I'm not lying?"

"Maybe." You laugh even more.

"I would never. If I didn't enjoy it, I would've given an honest review."

"Mmkay, I believe you." He laughs. "I want you to have a good night with me."

"I am already." You look at him with a soft expression. "And I'm sure the next part to this will be just as fun. If not, more. I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I do." Yunho smiles, wanting to hold your hand so badly while he drives. But, he doesn't. He holds back. He feels like there could be a better opportunity.

One that'll feel right and set the mood for the remainder of the night.

For this entirely.

After a good 20 minutes of driving down south, Yunho exits off the freeway and takes an immediate right down towards a large-sized building with all modern exterior designs. He parks in the lot next to it, doing his gentleman deed of helping you out of the car and leading you towards the beautiful building.

It's one of the city's biggest museums, and the event they're hosting for a couple of weeks is called Spirit House. It focuses on Asian American and Asian diasporic artists that are showcasing art pertaining to horror, spirits, haunted houses, reincarnation, different dimensions and other themes along those lines. You continue to read the pamphlet before Yunho looks at you with a small smile on his face.

"Wanna walk around?" You nod.

"How'd you know I'd be into this stuff?"

"It sounded cool, so why not?"

"You're good, Jeong Yunho." You giggle and continue into the first part of the exhibit. The atmosphere is dark and dim, the artwork on the walls screaming afterlife. Death. Souls. Horror, fear. You're so intrigued that you find yourself slowly moving from work to work; trying to take in all the details of the images in front of you. You didn't even realize Yunho had been watching you from behind, snapping photos every chance he could before moving onto the next room to get a preview of what's to come.

"Hey." Yunho says from behind you. "Wanna show you something in the next room." 

"Okay." You look down at the hand he puts out, waiting for you to take it. You gently slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining before he guides you to the next exhibit and it feels incredibly natural. It's a room full of mini fixtures— almost like miniature set-ups of old fashioned homes and other buildings. He shows you one that has the artist's own adaptation of Junji Ito characters spread across levels of an old, haunted house.

"Oh my god, I love it." You peek down to get a closer look, hand still laced with Yunho's. "I love Junji Ito. And the work in the other room reminded me of Takato Yamamoto. It's amazing."

"Made for you." You chuckle, tugging him along as you both look at the next miniature setups alongside of it. Yunho doesn't even mind one bit. He's enjoying the exhibit, but he's enjoying it even more with you here— holding his hand every step of the way. You snap a few photos of the art before Yunho directs you to stand near one of the exhibits where the lighting falls on you perfectly. He takes a few more photos— more candid ones from behind you especially— just so you have photos to look back at when you wanna reminisce on your first date with him.

The next room of the exhibit is an interactive light show; the  room is completely dark, with different lights projecting things around the room. The background music is mysterious, creepy; fitting the vibe all together. You continue to walk with Yunho while snapping photos of your silhouettes in the mirrors. Yunho gets silly and makes a bunch of poses, making you laugh loudly in the process. At one point, you've found yourself standing near the corner of the room, watching all the lights come together to project a beautiful show onto the walls. Yunho comes next to you, admiring the same view— but you, mainly. You look up at him to tell him how amazing the event is, but he's already looking down at you with fondness and endearment sprinkled in his big brown orbs.

You almost.. wanna kiss him.

But, you shake off the thought quickly by dragging him to the next exhibits— loosely holding his hand throughout the rest of the event.

Too bad he would've kissed you back, had you known.

No, he needs to be a gentleman and he needs to do right by you, Yunho thinks. He can't just kiss you on the first date or else he runs the risk of you thinking he only wants you for one thing.

Like Ara; but, that situation is a little different.

"Yunho! That was so fun." You smile at him the way you do, and it melts his heart. "Thank you for taking me to this."

"Of course. I think it ends after the weekend, so perfect timing." You quickly scroll through some of the pictures you took. "I'll send you the pictures I have later."

"Okay." You look at the buskers on the opposite end of the street, along with a food cart nearby. "Yunho, let's go check it out really quickly!"

"I'm down." He nods, noticing it's only about to hit 10pm. Seora must be waiting for him, but he knows she'll sleep until he gets there and Mingi hasn't made a peep. He feels like he's in the clear.

He holds your hand tightly as you both cross the street safely, stopping near the food cart first while lightly bouncing to the live music nearby.

"Want a snack?" You nod and cling onto his arm.

"I could use one. Museum took up my energy." He laughs. Yunho buys some custard-filled bungeoppang for you two to snack on while observing the buskers. You bounce along next to him and he starts to dance in his own way, making you laugh at how cute he's being with you. You snap a few photos of him that you'll share later, not knowing Yunho had a bunch of your photos to share as well.

You and Yunho sing along to some familiar songs before the buskers end the first half of their performance for a tiny break.

"That was cool. They did really well!"

"They were so good!" You toss in some cash into the guitar case. "And I didn't know you could sing!"

"I— no." Yunho laughs.

"I wanna hear more of your singing." You pout as you tug on his arm on the way back to the car.

"Maybe."

"Yunho." You whine and he laughs.

"I promise you it's nothing that great."

"Very much the opposite of what I think, just so you know." He stands by the passenger door, allowing you to hop in but he doesn't close the door right away. He stands and looks at you and there's something in his eyes that you can't really read.

"I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did. A lot." He licks his lips, and you can tell he's having the same internal battle you had not too long ago in the light exhibit. But, he brushes it off by tapping the door frame before shutting your door gently and hopping into his seat. 

The drive home is as expected; with you and Yunho talking about your similar music tastes this time and Yunho being a bit more open about his vocals. You look at him as he sings a tune or two, explaining that his dad is the one with the vocals in the family. You tease that next time, you two should go to a karaoke bar to end the night and he smirks.

At least you're thinking about next time's just like he is, too.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you find yourself not wanting to part from him. You know he has to go home to Seora though, and it breaks your heart knowing she's been waiting for her dad to come home. You step out of the car and tug on your coat, the night colder than it was a few hours ago.

"Welp, this is me." You both look at the apartment building, with Yunho tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Let me walk you up."

"No, it's okay. I promise it's right there." You point at your apartment before chuckling and turning to him completely. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome, Y/N." He watches as you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes, and he loves the initiation, but he freezes. Completely. 

"I'll see you next week, hm? Get home safely." You smile toothlessly at him before turning on your heel to walk up to your unit. Just as you're about to make it up the steps, Yunho is chasing after you with long strides, causing you to turn and raise a brow. "Did I leave something?"

"Mm, maybe." He says with a tiny smirk on his face. Suddenly, his large, warm hands come up to cup your cheeks— lips capturing yours in a sweet goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." You smile up at him as his thumb caresses the surface of your right cheek.

"Night." He steps back, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big. He lingers around until he sees you successfully slip into your unit and hears the door shut close.

What he doesn't see is the way you squeal and dig your face into your hands, incredibly giddy and happy from the turn of events.

You really liked Yunho.

And he does, too.

So much that the smile doesn't even fade when he pulls up to the house, Mingi's car leaving enough room for him to park in his usual spot. Yunho can see the faint flickering of the TV lights through the kitchen window, and he knows Seora is probably on the couch waiting for his arrival.

When he steps through the door, Mingi is placing some food into the fridge before returning his attention to the remaining dishes in the sink. He quietly greets his bestfriend before nodding towards the couch— signaling that Seora had fallen asleep while waiting.

"Has it been long?" Yunho asks lowly.

"A bit, yeah. She said practice was exhausting today." Yunho chuckles before crouching down in front of the couch and brushing her hair back.

"Ace." Her eyes slowly flicker open.

"Oh, finally. You're back." He laughs.

"Let's get to bed, hm?" She sleepily nods, sitting up before walking to her bedroom. "Say bye to uncle Mingi."

"Love you, ace!" Mingi calls out as he watches her sleepily walk across the living room.

"Love you too. Goodnight." She mutters and lazily waves before dragging herself into her room and shutting the door. It isn't long before Yunho sees her shut off the lights, causing him to turn the volume down on the TV before helping Mingi clean up.

"So, how was it?" Yunho smiles.

"Good." He avoids eye contact as he blushes, setting the dry dishes into the cabinet.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Meaning?" Mingi rests against the corner before smirking at him. " I have time."

"I really, really like her."

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x

[cowboyshadows]

Okay so we all know Ghost makes his own equipment right? I can’t imagine him being too precise with it. Like his skull mask, that has some sloppy stitching work.

I like to think the process of him learning sewing was reading a book at the public library, going to his flat and trying it from memory, drawing a little blood on the first attempt and immediately getting frustrated. Man’s just gonna start doing anything at that point

It’s gotten to the point where everytime he feels the skull part sag even a little, he just haphazardly applies a stitch to the place he suspects is the weak links. It’s a tailor’s nightmare, that seam. Plus, he doesn’t really know how to clean it properly so there’s SO much dirt and grime and mud and god knows what in the crevices

Now, picture this: he, by a miracle, finds himself in a steady, committed, loving relationship. As healthy and functional as it can get for him. You know he likes to get emo with his equipment, so naturally curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to sneak around.

You find a box of dirty, dusty balaclavas and gloves—painted on with ACRYLIC and NAIL POLISH—and of course, his signature mask. If the quality of his handiwork isn’t bad enough, the smell makes you wanna retch.

“How long has it been since you’ve washed these?”

“Not supposed ta wash ‘em.”

That sets you off, actually. You take that personally, and make it your own project to improve his inventory.

If you don’t already knew how to sew, you learn. You’re going the extra mile for this man—buying a machine, paying for classes, all that. You somehow take the skull out of his mask, keeping it unharmed except for the little holes at the edges. You hose it down and use bleach on it until the creamy colour is a pearly white.You sew it carefully into a double lined balaclava, seam near perfect. He’d get decapitated before the skull comes loose.

You stitch a skull pattern onto the rest of his balaclavas—win, win because this way he can clean it easily and he won’t have to deal with the smell of paint. You redo his gloves the same way too, cleaning them from the inside out.

You also make him socks with the same bones pattern. (He’ll end up using it as a loyalty sock because it reminds him of you so much. But that’s between him and god)

His new attire is so pristine and clean that he’s almost embarrassed to wear it to deployment. The paint and dirt may be gone, but he can still smell the comments he’s gonna get.

“Aye, Lt, ye finally found the laundromat, did ya?”

“Nice crochet work, Simon. Where did you see that, Art Attack?”

Anyway. I just thought of the symbolism in someone cleaning his equipment, the one he’s worn while killing other people. He’s this close to asking you to clean the blood off his hands while you’re at it.

[starconstruction]

Ok!! I would love to see something with Choerry!! I can suggest tags I would particularly love, but plot I would have to brainstorm 😅

Tags: Heavy impregnation(!!!!!!!!), belly bulge, squirting&multiple orgasms, deepthroating, nipppleplay/breasfeeding, thighjobs/feet. I saw you like yandere. Maybe some heavy jealousy?

Literally anything you’d like !!

Plot suggestions are here just cause I’d feel bad just asking for a member and you doing all the heavy creative writing (but please do anything you’d like with it if you have an idea you want!!): coworker lip makes choerry jealous, forcing her to make m!reader remember who she belongs to.

Or maybe she tags along with? Anything you desire!! Hope to read it someday!

Thanks

Jealous Loving Partner

Yandere Choerry x Male Reader (Smut)

Smut Tags: Impregnation, multiple orgasms (both people), foot worship, foot job, feet kink, deepthroating, edging, belly bulge, squirting, creampie, riding, nipple sucking.

Crazy first ask, thank you for submitting! I hope it is up to your standards, I only feel a bit of shame.

WC: 2046

not proof read

The monotous clicking of your keyboard resonated through the sterile office, scents of an overabundance of old paper, laying anywhere and everywhere there was space, on the tables, on the floor, in cabinets. The intense workload was stressing you beyond relief. You were one of the only few employees left at this ungodly hour, it paid extraordinary amounts of money, but 80 hour work weeks has their toll on your body.

You sipped on your coffee, the comforting taste of dirt filled your mouth. It was disgusting however it gave you vital energy. Only one more hour and you can finally go home to your loving partner, Choerry. You two had been together for a little over 4 years, she was quite intense. Only a penny drop away at any moment, her messages frequently popped up. She could message you 10-20 times an hour and would get sad if you didn't respond to every single one. But apart from being a bit obsessive she was perfect.

You were engrossed in your work, ignoring the bright bursts of light that radiated from your phone, desperate to finish those projects that haunted you, a gentle hand pressed against your shoulder, distracting you from your goals. It was your coworker, you knew very little about her. Her brown hair laid flush on her shoulder, she was wearing a grey cardigan, shoulders exposed as she looked at your computer.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Y/N right?" She said, voice quiet as she got your attention.

"Yeah, what do you need?" You replied, pulling away from your desk to give her your full attention.

"I have an issue with my computer, I'm on graveyard shift so I cant call someone else later, you're really my only hope." She looked down at the ground, giving a pleading smile.

"Sure I'll help"

-

What you hoped would be a small few minute job ended up being an entire hour long venture, the computer locked her with violence and aggression. Kim Lip, she said her name was. Her conversation was light as you two sprung words between each other, leaving work to the side as you fought tooth and nail to get this working.

Your shift was over, you being able to finally get out this office for the next few hours. "Alright Kim Lip, I'm out for the night." Slinging your bag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave when she stopped you. "I'll walk with you" she said. Coming behind you as you two left the building.

Your jaw dropped, Choerry was waiting for you outside. Staring daggers into you and Kim Lip, her feet digging into the ground, stomping as she dragged you away from her. "Piss off" she barked, venom spitting out of her words. Kim Lip looked at you in confusion as you got put into the passengers seat of the car.

Choerry opened the driver's seat as she clambered in, the air filled with tension. You watched in fear as she turned on the car. The music cranked all the way up, her face was an unreadable anger. Not sparing you a glance as you two sat in painful silence. You were in for it the second you got home.

--

Choerry pressed you into the wall of your shared bedroom, her body resting against you as she pulled your clothes off, fabric teared as she grabbed your shirt with reckless abandon. Buttons popped out as her hand gripped your chest, squeezing and groping every part of your torso. "Who the fuck was that?!" she growled, her teeth biting into your neck as you gasped in pain. "Are you fucking cheating on me with that whore?!" she continued.

"What? Choerry she's my co-worker." You said, trying to soothe her unrelenting anger. Choerry's biting got even sharper, blood drawing on everywhere her teeth dug into. "I don't fucking believe you!" Her hands playing with your pants as she shoved them down with your underwear in one fell swoop.

Her hand roughly stroked your cock, aggressively going up and down with no care for your pleasure. "Bet you wish it was her? She looked pretty maybe you wish it was her!" Choerry shouted, pumping her hand on your dick. Pained gasps left your mouth as she showed no signs of slowing down. "Choerry I-" She cut you off. "Shut up! You will take what I give!"

Her eyes stared up at you, intense orbs of anger. Her lips brushed against your tip, taking you into her awaiting mouth as she bopped up and down, licking your dick from the tip to the base, her blonde hair fired everywhere as she kept sucking, heavenly sensations shot over your cock, your hands desperately grabbing onto the wall. Fearing what would happen if you dare touched her.

Choerry's lips pressed against your crotch, breathing in your scent as your cock laid jammed in her mouth, drool formulated all over you as it started to overflow, dripping out the corners of her lips, landing on your balls as she held you there, your dick fully wrapped in Choerry's mouth.

She finally pulled away, giving you a second of respite from the luxury of her mouth. Her anger still fully visible, you were in the eye of the storm. Her hands braced you as she thrusted you into her mouth once more. Much rougher than before, gagging all over your length, vibrations pulsing on your tip, her head game was divine. You felt your orgasm on the verge of the horizon. "Choerry darling I'm going to cum!" as soon as those words left your mouth, her mouth withdrew. The sensation of being edged burned, leaving a painful singe in her absence.

You couldn't begin to complain as your body was thrown onto the bed. Bouncing against the mattress as your body landed in the middle, Choerry approached the bed, swaying her hips as she got to the edge. She looked so hot, a beacon of danger and desire. Her hand reached into her bed compartment, pulling out a gleaming pair of handcuffs. Trapping you against the bed.

"Baby, you need to make up for your cheating." Her hand ran up and down your chest, goosebumps coated your body as you shuddered.

"I didn't chea-" A strong force came down on your face. "I said no talking!" Her actions brought fear to you, Choerry has always seemed possessive but this was so out there. You swallowed your saliva as she took off the lower half of her clothes, throwing them everywhere and anywhere.

She sat down on your legs, crushing them slightly as she Choerry's feet pressed up against your nose, the intense stench of sweat filled your nostrils, her soles rubbed against your lips, the salty taste of sweat lingered on your mouth as she kept playing with your mouth. "Clean them off, show me how much you love me" She beamed a terrifying smile as your tongue went up and down, tasting more of her sweat as you lapped her feet clean.

Choerry jammed her foot into your awaiting mouth, swirling your tongue around her toes, wiping the dirt away as you gave her what she wanted. The loss of power intoxicated you as you took every action, her other foot trailed your body, finding it's way to your shaft. Still rock hard and throbbing as she grinded her foot all over it. Muffled gasps combined with gags as her foot pressed against the back of your mouth.

Her foot rubbed you violently, the sensation too much to handle as she got off on your misery, your loving partner turning into a demon in the bedroom. Choerry's foot withdrew from the depths of your mouth, saliva dripping on your chest as you caught your breath. "Good boy! You are being so good." She wrapped both her feet around your length, working harmoniously as she grinned, the feeling of her soles was soft and undeniably perfect. Bucking your hips under the pressure of Choerry's nonstop actions, the familiar feeling of the orgasm trying to come out yet again, her feet rubbed your balls and you felt seconds from unloading.

"No. You don't have the right." Her voice laced with a thick venom as she channeled her inner sadism, feet withdrawn as she got off your legs. You whined when she left the room, forcing you to lay there and contemplate your feelings. She was back promptly, the rest of her clothes removed. Holding something in her hands.

"You see these?" Her hand revealed a set of pills. You gulped. "That's right honey.. My birth control, I don't think we need them anymore. You'd agree right?" Panic seized your body as she stared at you, awaiting the correct answer. Your throat went dry as you thought about all the consequences of every possible answer. She wasn't just speaking from the loving woman she was usually, coming from a deep wish to have you by any means necessary.

"I'm waiting." She spoke bluntly, getting clearly frustrated as she stood there, this wasn't logical, wasn't normal. But deep down you wanted to take the next step with her. "Yes. Choerry. My love, let's go further." She smiled sweetly, throwing those pills into the wall as she approached.

Choerry straddled your body, right above your shaft as it pointed against her cunt, rubbing against her, getting the tip wet in her essence. A deep breath came from her mouth as her body lowered into yours. Her walls clamped down on you, the first inch being tortuous as she started to sink down, the sensation was overwhelming. Loud gutteral moans came from your lips as Choerry started screaming, "Fuck... My love! Your dick is so good, I love you!" she gasped, bouncing up and down violently as the bed shook. "I love you!"

Her fingers dug into your chest, leaving red marks as you met her halfway, skin slapping as your crotches connected. You knew you weren't going to last very long after her precious edging. She could sense your closeness as you thrusted more irregularly, "That's right baby, make me a mommy! Cum in me!" She let out a satisfied moan as you shot your load into her pussy, giving her the present she wanted. "Hmmm that feels good.. Your cum is so warm.." Her body gasped, she kept bouncing despite your sensitivity. Pain erupted all over your body for the 5th time today.

"Choerry please.. Slow down" Your voice was pained as you laboured to speak, it seemed to only spur her on as she kept bouncing, even stronger as she started gripping on you even more intensely. "Fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum baby!" She shouted as your shaft fucked your cum further into her. Large amounts of her liquid shot over your shared bed as she came undone.

She held herself there as she let you relax, no thoughts were in your head as you breathed in the shared scent of sweat and sex, your hands laid on your bed as Choerry smiled at you. "I think you can go another round yeah? Really make sure I get pregnant" You really couldn't go another round, but her smile was so disarming. Nodding as she started picking up the pace. You ignored the burning sensation in your loins as she moaned.

Choerry leaned forward, holding you up as she brought her breasts to your mouth, "Suck on my nipples baby, imagine how full they'll be when you knock me up." Her voice was glazed over as you took her left boob into your mouth, sucking on her bountiful bosom, her skin slightly sweet to the taste as she arched her back. "Fuckk keep sucking, right there." Her hands pressed into the back of your head, clinging onto strands of your hair.

Your orgasm hit like a tsunami as you shot another load into her awaiting body, biting her nipple as you doused it in saliva. Your orgasm triggered a chain reaction, another douse of her squirt hit the bed. She removed your hungry mouth from her breasts, smiling. Her stomach was bulging with your load, completely stuffing her.

"You are mine, completely now baby. No more co-workers."

She was batshit insane, but she was yours, and you were hers.

[vioredynamite]

hi! I want to rb a version of the post not from that source, do you have another article that talks about it instead?

Hey, I assume you're talking about the fires in Patagonia. The only sources I trust are alternative media in Argentina so I'm going to share the translated excerpts here.

---

Agencia Tierra Viva

"Within this movement are the volunteer brigadists who join the firefighting. This Wednesday (February 5), when the fire was about to be active for a week, Governor Alberto Weretilneck informed about the arrest of three brigadistas in Mallín Ahogado. The arrests were made against Nicolás Heredia, Tomás Anarella and Fabián Pasos, as part of the case being investigated by prosecutor Francisco Arrien on the causes of the fires. Aranella and Pasos were released this Thursday (February 6) at the 36th Police Station of Dina Huapi, while raids were being carried out and a fourth arrest was announced. (Update: all the detainees, who numbered up to 6, have been released.)

The organizations and assemblies denounced that the detainees, accused of starting the fires, are in fact brigadistas who were fighting the fire together with their neighbors. For this reason, the arrests generated an immediate reaction from the population and a protest at the door of the 12th Police Station of El Bolsón. But when the people mobilized to demand their release, a group of people on horseback chased the neighbors with "rebencazos" ("rebenques" are short whips) and beatings, under the watchful eye and inaction of the local police.

One of the aggressors, who beat people telling them "I am not afraid of you", was Víctor Hugo Araneda, a man linked to the mayor Bruno Pogliano and who is remembered in the town for participating in violent actions in the protests for the murder of Elías Garay, the young Mapuche from Lof Quemquemtreu; and against the participants of the march that, every year, mobilizes to Lago Escondido, owned by Joe Lewis (British tycoon and businessman with land in Patagonia)."

[...]

"The slogan "Mallín is rural" has been sustained in the face of the ever-renewed attempts of subdivision in Pampa de Ludden. There, in the area of Mount Perito Moreno, where the ski center of El Bolsón is located, the company Laderas - closely connected to the British businessman Joe Lewis and with municipal endorsement - has been trying to build a gated community for ten years. But there are also many other forced urbanization projects, such as land use change ordinances, tax revaluations, and street layout. Even the attempts to modify the educational project of the schools with changes in the school calendar, reduction of positions in subjects related to production or total absence of school transportation for long periods. The tension between tourism and rural production seems to have reached a point of no return with this catastrophe."

[...]

"Governor Alberto Weretilneck appears in the regional media thanking the Ministry of Defense, which sent some Army authorities to help with the situation. The pro-government media thank the helicopter of Joe Lewis' company without asking about the appearance of Lago Escondido in the name of the burned protected natural area. In order to divert the focus, the case against the brigaders appears.

In parallel, Patricia Bullrich, head of the recently renamed Ministry of National Security, which has under its orbit the National Fire Management Service (SNMF), is conspicuous by her absence. There are other active fires in the Patagonian Andes. And the Minister's response is only through the networks, bringing back the figure of the Mapuche Ancestral Resistance (RAM) and Facundo Jones Huala; whom she claims to denounce criminally for the appearance of a video in which he vindicates the fires. In the creation of the internal enemy, she is followed by the governor Ignacio Torres and the presidential spokesman Manuel Adorni, all on the same day."

---

Canal Abierto

"According to the National Fire Management Service, 95% of fires are caused by human action. Few fires originate naturally; the vast majority are generated by recklessness or intentional land-use changes in favor of agrobusiness, real estate, mining, and other sectors.

Added to this is the insufficient enforcement of environmental regulations, the lack of land use planning and effective territorial control. "In this context, fires cannot be treated as isolated or solely reactive events. A comprehensive approach is needed that encompasses prevention, vegetation fuel management, climate risk mitigation and adaptive territorial planning. Without these actions, fires will become increasingly intense, causing irreversible damage to ecosystems, communities and the biodiversity they sustain," states a report by the "Fundación Ambiente y Recursos Naturales".

The current government, a denier of climate change and its consequences, defunds and under-executes the funds of the National Fire Management System which, on the other hand, was changed jurisdiction and is now under the orbit of Patricia Bullrich. In 2024, only 22% of its budget was executed, equivalent to $7,739 million. In 2025, the budget execution to date is 0%."

---

I also recommend following other media such as Revista Cítrica and ANRed, which cover this topic with some regularity.

[vidavalor]

re: dust-- etymologically tied to words also relating to smoke/mist/vapor. Dust in the 'ashes to ashes' sense but also dust in the sense of you have to dust to clean/preserve/start fresh. Idioms related to dust are about revolution and sex-and-death.

To "bite the dust" is to be killed, used as one of the most famous examples of sex-and-death/destructive sexual metaphor by Queen in "Another One Bites the Dust" (aw, take it/bite the dust/bite the dust, yeah...). It's a sex-and-death metaphor in a song that is also about a very literal, deadly problem that was related to sex during the very long earlier days of the HIV pandemic.

To "kick up the dust", though, is to cause an uproar. It's to disturb the settled order of things, which is necessary for things to change. You kick up dust when you're dusting. Without Gabriel kicking up the dust in Heaven and in the bookshop, nothing would have ever been able to change. Dusting is saying nah to Armageddon just as much as it's, uh, literally dusting the books in the bookshop. 😂

Another idiom we say that means basically the same thing as to "kick up some dust"?... "To upset the apple cart." The tomato, known in England until the 18th century, as "the love apple"...

The Oslo Revival album:

Come On Over to Our Third Floor Apartment

We’re Having a Party

Just for You

Four in a Bed

Have This Drink

It Doesn’t Taste Weird

We’ll Take Care of You

We Love You

You’re One of Us Now

Together Forever

Couple of different ways of looking at this, though I absolutely agree with your impression of the creepy feel to it. Like you said, it can go in different directions with wildly different meanings, and both the story and the etymology of the words chosen supports that.

For instance, the same set of words in these song titles that gives us the creeps because it sounds very much that it relates to ideas we're having about love bombing and Crowley having fallen into Satan's web also can be interpreting using the same words to have different meanings, including a much more positive one, and all interpretations are likely correct at once.

So, first, there's the positive meaning of how this relates to Gabriel's story. When you say it aloud, "Oslo Revival" actually sounds like "Our Slow Revival", meaning a return to trying to go more slowly after the anxiety of Armageddon (even if that anxiety is still present in S2). A revival can also be an awakening, which would then kind of refer to all of the angels and demons as a whole.

What is offered in our slow/oslo revival? The album title-- to "come on over to our third floor apartment." As you pointed out, this is a very American way to put this. "Come on over" is American in rhythm and Americans say 'apartment' rather than 'flat.' America can be symbolic of freedom and liberation in the story so we could say that the lure of those things is what draws people in. (Would be helpful if we were living up to that irl but I digress. *sigh*)

Depending on who is doing the inviting, this can be good or it can be awful. You can have a positive experience-- like Gabriel being safe in the bookshop-- or you can have the worst kind of experience-- like Crowley and Beez did with Lucifer. There's also the different floors thing that "third floor apartment" brings up that has to do with a difference between how the U.K. and the U.S. measure floor levels. Since we have all this stuff with lifts/elevators, it seems especially relevant in S2.

In the U.S., we have a thing that I understand doesn't really exist much in the U.K. known as "the ground floor," which is what is just known as the first floor in the U.K.. The idiom "getting in on the ground floor" comes from this-- it means starting with a project or a business from its inception.

I bring it up because this means that what a "third floor" is in the U.S. is different from what one is in the U.K.. In the U.S., it can go: ground/1/2/3, etc., while, in the U.K., it would be more like: 1/2/3, etc. The third floor in the U.S. is what the U.K. would call the fourth floor.

In some countries, there's actually no recognized fourth floor at all. It's considered unlucky so it's skipped entirely and the third floor is then beneath the fifth floor. So, hidden in the third floor/fourth floor apartment thing might be a nod towards the deception present in the creepy way this is all phrased because the idea is that the offer to "come on over our third floor apartment" is really that it's a fourth floor apartment that doesn't exist. Might go along with the idea of the offer in The Final 15 being as bullshit as it seems.

On the other hand, if you take it just as the third floor in an American sense? And in a residential sense? Sometimes, basements are counted as a floor in a house so a third floor apartment would be one floor up from the street level floor of a residence. It's essentially the upstairs in the bookshop, like where Gabriel was staying in S2.

So that brings us to the rest of the song titles. What is being offered? To "have this drink" that "doesn't taste weird." While the love bombing take on this is chill-inducing because of the connotation that the drink is laced, one, other meaning of the word weird is supernatural, stemming from The Wyrd Sisters of Macbeth, who are inspired by the goddesses in control of fate.

Ironically, the same word that very much does have a creepy connotation that is implying that the one who drinks the drink is going to experience a loss of control actually also comes from a word related to the supernatural that is historically related to control.

If you apply that bit to the Gabriel scenario, then a drink that doesn't taste weird is the hot chocolate. It doesn't taste supernatural-- it's a bit of the human world and a relief to Gabriel. It also doesn't taste strange or gross to him. One of the first things we see in his first scene is how put off by tea he is. Aziraphale offers him something else, instead, and he loves it. In this take, the same words that echo something dark are also underscoring something that is not creepy but sweet. Both Crowley and Aziraphale give Gabriel hot chocolate during S2 and it's just cute. It's Gabriel experiencing some of the joys of the human world and getting free from the oppression of Heaven.

We can also apply this a bit to the scenes relating to offered drinks and how respecting a person's choice over them illustrating who places an emphasis on autonomy and consent and who doesn't. Our main characters all do.

Gabriel is emphatic about making sure that Beez doesn't feel pressure to drink and Crowley is fine with Aziraphale not wanting wine in Uz. No one forces Muriel to drink tea, just offers it. Same with Gabriel and the hot chocolate. This is all healthy and provides a contrast to the scene that isn't towards which the season builds-- The Coffee in The Final 15, when there is an implicit pressure for Aziraphale to drink it, further suggesting who Our Villain might be. It's framed as a choice but we can all feel a sense of Aziraphale being trapped.

This is when the wording of the rest of the tracks on the Oslo Revival album comes in, too, because what's the benign result of the offered drink being accepted in these cases? We love you/You're one of us now/Together forever, per the album track titles.

The same words that feel eerie when we're on the love bombing track of this are also sweet if we're taking more the Gabriel-like track with it. The reassurance of we love you-- which, when genuine, is lovely. We love you, you're not alone, you can have a rest and some food and drink here, we'll take care of you. We'll help you. We'll all be a team-- we'll be friends, together forever. That's awfully literal, too, for the supernatural entities 😂 They've got Gabriel now for eternity. What else is in the tracks?

How about the "four to a bed." One original meaning of bed is a garden bed. Etymologically, the track title is also saying that being friends puts you all in the garden together and, since the garden can be paradise, it means that it's nice to be there with people you care about and not alone but... since a garden can also be a bit of a trap if you can't figure out how to get out of it, it can refer to letting in friends and helping each other get out of each other's Edens, bookshops, and M-25 burning rings of fire.

I think that the "four to a bed" part also refers to how if you let someone in, you bring with them the people they have let in, too. All season long, an element of Beez is literally flying around the bookshop because Gabriel brought them along. Giving Gabriel the hot chocolate when he came on over to the two oslo revival's third floor apartment means that there's now four in a metaphorical garden together-- Crowley and Aziraphale and Gabriel and Beez.

So, that's the positive take on it, right? But then there's also that a bed was also a word for a grave at one point-- four to a bed, as in everybody's in the same boat and they're all in trouble. (It's also in keeping with a lot of the sex-and-death happening in the wordplay in different spots throughout.) There seems to be a sense in there of getting into how someone's struggles can affect those around them?

There's also the "We're Having a Party." Party is a funny word because it means a gathering of a group of people but, etymologically, it's actually related to dividing and separating people. I'd say that's definitely what Our Villain was trying to do in The Final 15 but a party in The Meeting Ball sense of unity-- something more positive-- is then the same words working in the story of our main characters. As you pointed out already, the "We'll Take Care Of You" that means just that when we're talking about our kind main characters also has the level of being mafia speak for killing somebody.

What do you think is happening in the scene when Crowley falls to the ground in pain in Tadfield?! I find your thoughts about Satan and Crowley really interesting and sorry if you've already mentioned it but I think I've gobbled up all your metas on the subject and didn't see it. Thank you 🤗

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & asking. I have an assortment of Christmas cookies to share. *gets the plates* Sugar feels extra necessary for Satan-related Crowley meta...

Let's talk about that 1.06 scene you mentioned where Crowley is dragged to the ground by Satan in Tadfield, what it has to do with a motif throughout both seasons around a thing known as proskynesis, and how all of that is relevant to The Final 15 in S2.

TW: rape (mentions of the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory).

Note: Themes of bodily autonomy and its relationship to freedom overlap between Good Omens and Terry Pratchett's Discworld and that's the main reason why some of us are still here, not giving up on this rare, A+++ survivor story, despite also wanting to hurl a certain, other person once involved with it into an active volcano. Considering the topic, I felt the need to just mention that at the start.

Sooo... let's talk about what the scene in your ask has to do with a bunch of other ones, including that scene in The Final 15...

Good Omens has a few scenes that are dealing with a thing known as proskynesis. If you're unfamiliar with this, it's a word describing rituals of reverence and worship in royal courts, as formed originally in various parts of the ancient world, like Persia, Greece, and Rome, as well as rituals involving religious worship across many different religions.

Aspects of proskynesis exist into the present in different ways in different cultures. For societies that are monarchies, proskynesis is at the root of rituals regarding how subjects in those societies address royalty. Everything from kissing the ring of high-ranking clergy in some churches to doing the same with some mafia leaders has historical ties to this. Things like bowing and curtsying customs in Victorian England can also be rooted back to proskynesis.

There are also elements of it in everyday manners and customs in societies that you wouldn't think would have any connection in the modern world to things like this. In many democracies, for instance, as in many other countries of the world, the custom of getting down on one knee to propose marriage is actually rooted in proskynesis, even if the partnership is (hopefully) more equal in today's societies.

The Japanese, who have an intricate system of bowing as part of the social expectations of their society, are a great example of how proskynesis elements have evolved to not necessarily be related to royalty or religious worship but also form the roots of manners between people throughout all classes of a society.

The rules of proskynesis in a society or a religious group varied in details a bit between cultures but has always had the same, general, wide gap between different types of actions.

As a general rule, there's a polite head bob of a bow on one end of the spectrum of proskynesis, with different bows then getting progressively lower and more intense, until we're closer to the other, more extreme end of the spectrum. That end involves kneeling at the feet of the king or in worship of a deity. The absolute, opposite end of that spectrum from that polite, head nod/bob of a bow is fully prostrating, which is lying fully on the ground, and what of this is tied to the scene in your ask, as we'll look at here.

The sketch below is a good, simple visual of what I mean:

[User: Arseni on Wikipedia]

What's interesting to note here is that when you look at the above sketch and see different movements in it that are associated with different religions, these things came to those religions by first being associated with the royal court of ancient Persia and then being adopted, in part, into Greece and Rome. What physical worshipping in a religious way looks like to this day was adopted into different religions from how humans were showing deference to other humans as royalty.

One, big debate in Christianity is actually what kind of proskynesis was given to Jesus. The word is found in The New Testament but Jesus is the perfect example of the blurred lines here between venerating a human being and treating one like a god.

There are different levels of proskynesis for religious figures, with saints and the like being ok to venerate but proskynesis involving full worship supposed to remain only for God. What kind of treatment Jesus received or should have received and what he thought about it is a matter of debate. Is he a carpenter or is he a king of kings, right? Is he human or is he supernatural... or is he both?

Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this, too, but what they wind up doing is not technically proskynesis but it's arguably a lot better. They bear witness to Jesus' suffering and murder. They show him empathy and respect. The scene we see shows them talking about him a bit, as two people might do at any wake or funeral or the like for ages to come.

When it came to royalty, what kind of proskynesis you would perform would be dependent in different courts on your rank and your relationship to the king. You might be expected to grovel with some really low bows if you were of low rank or to have a more modest bow or to kiss the king, if you were of higher rank. The lower ranked people were expected to go lower in their bows and do more work with all of this, in order for even the chance of being recognized by the king or another high-ranked royal.

When Crowley mocks Beez, addressing them formally as Lord Beezlebub, he does a formal bow, complete with the proper foot positioning-- you can see him step into it from how his hips move. He bows almost to the waist, complete with flourishing hand gestures that are showing mock-fealty and deference to the Grand Duke of Hell by sarcastically treating them as if they were a king.

This scene which, as we'll see, is related to the one in your ask, is only one example of a couple of Crowley sassing the fuck out of someone, specifically by using proskynesis. It also adds to the chilling nature of the scene in your ask by having occurred just a matter of moments prior.

Beez lets it pass entirely because they're really only Lord Beezlebub in an attempt to project power enough to try to survive Hell. Their title is more about self-protection than it is about an expectation of deference-- which is something that Crowley also knows and is at the heart of the mockery.

Like Aziraphale, with his respectful bowing to his friend in gratitude for the sushi in 1.01, Crowley has no issue with a polite, non-religious, non-royal version of proskynesis. If worshipping the humans is wrong, Crowley and Aziraphale don't wanna be right. They don't revere individual humans as kings or gods but they do revere humanity itself as a whole in that way. They show polite respect to those sharing that with them or educating them in it.

They also do that with one another. Crowley's soft, polite nod of a bow to Aziraphale when they meet in Eden is gentlemanly. It's respectful but not in a way that isn't just treating Aziraphale as an equal. Nina gets a similar treatment when they meet in S2.

Crowley still does something similar into the modern era with Aziraphale-- note the little nod/bow when Aziraphale accepts his lunch invitation in S1.

This is all very much on the egalitarian end of proskynesis; it's in where it basically formed parts of the foundation of gestures related to having good manners in different societies. It's respect and acknowledgement between people who view and treat one another as equals, as is the case with Crowley and Aziraphale.

Their relationship is one that is built around equality, free choice, and consent. Therefore, when Crowley apologizes in S2 in another scene that is related to the one in your ask by being an intentional, totally opposite contrast to it, Aziraphale can barely contain his laughter at Crowley's mock-submissive dance. The dance, in many ways, is really a satire of proskynesis.

Crowley is doing this "yes, my king" dance for Aziraphale with tongue firmly in cheek. The dance is poking fun at the difference between general submissiveness, which Crowley loathes and likes to mock, and voluntary sexual submission with one another, which different scenes have shown us that they both periodically enjoy as some light fun from time to time.

Aziraphale is desperately trying not to laugh long enough to reply with equal humor in his dry, self-aware, soft dom voice. He can't resist smiling a bit and mimes a kiss at Crowley-- seeing Crowley's droll mocking of proskynesis-- which is etymologically linked to words related to kissing and which can involve it in different stages-- and replying by bestowing upon Crowley a kiss.

Aziraphale is intentionally doing something that isn't really the result of proskynesis when in the royal circles that Crowley is referencing with The Apology Dance. The subject is meant to seek the king's favor and would be the one, if ranked high enough to warrant such a relationship with royalty, who would kiss the king-- not the other way around. By miming a kiss at Crowley, Aziraphale is meeting Crowley's mocking of inequitable aspects of proskynesis with some mocking of his own by being miming a kiss at Crowley, who is his equal and partner.

There's also a droll joke in there where the only royal subject of a king who could reasonably have expected a kiss from the king, if maybe not always in a public setting, was the king's queen. So, Crowley's whole mocking Apology Dance has a joking, "yes, my king" vibe to it and Aziraphale's response is to show equal humor towards and affection for the person who is-- in all senses of the word-- his queen.

The end of Crowley's dance is a combination curtsy and what's known as a bow-and-scrape-- the thing from which the phrase "to bow and scrape" comes. The scrape is the movement of the foot behind a person across the floor, done to be able to go lower to the floor on the bow.

To "bow and scrape" was to basically grovel in this really overly demonstrative way for favor with the king, in the hopes that he'd be impressed by your humiliating submission enough to bestow favor upon you. The phrase now refers to doing a large amount of work or groveling to someone in a position in authority, usually with the suggested reward likely not forthcoming.

The second word in the phrase-- scrape-- also contains the word for the thing Crowley has survived at the hands of that fucking monster, Satan, who lives for the demons to bow and scrape for his favor. That's intentional on Crowley's part-- the end of this apology dance is also a visual pun on the word scrape, which contains the word rape, and this while he's doing this mocking dance that is a perfect example of how completely different and very healthy his relationship with Aziraphale is by how he is free to be this hilarious, sassy shit with his partner versus the forced subjugation by his assailant.

You might think that wordplay-- visual or otherwise-- involving the word rape is a bit dark. I won't disagree with that but I just want to briefly show you other examples of it that I've noticed so you can see what they're showing as the rationale for it between Crowley and Aziraphale. It's actually more of an empowering thing when you see other examples of it that are in other scenes.

Crowley and Aziraphale's cant vocabulary-- their invented hidden language-- uses a lot of words-within-words, just like how rape lives within scrape. If you consider that, you might also notice a couple of foods that recur in Good Omens that also are related to this. In Crowley and Aziraphale's language and in their life together, food is food but food is also figurative language for sex. Their healthy relationship and all the food and sex that is part of their life together is their answer to the traumas they've both suffered.

It's sensual, mindful living that focuses on healthier, positive experiences that help them to provide one another with a quality of life that the pain of Heaven and Hell does not. As a result, some frequently mentioned food and drink is held up between them as examples of the loving, enjoyable, pleasurable relationship with one another that they have that stands in contrast to Heaven and, especially, Hell.

Crowley enjoys wine, right? Which is made from? Grapes, as Aziraphale orders in 1601...

The opposite of the rape-related issues that Aziraphale unintentionally triggered in Crowley in 1793, for example, is what he then offers him for lunch-- both figurative and euphemistic crepes.

Not coincidentally, that's also what Aziraphale suggested the day after Crowley was assaulted by Satan on the night Armageddon began-- the crepes of Paris, 1793-- and Crowley, as we could see, was all for it:

Another covert reference to this is Aziraphale's magic trick of changing a turnip into an inkwell. It's a metaphor on a couple of different levels but one of them is that the word rape overlaps with a type of plant that is also called that and is the category name for a group of plants and vegetables, the most famous of which is the turnip.

Turnips are also a pretty clever food metaphor for rape. They have been in existence for forever and are, horrifyingly, really common, but no one-- no one lol-- has ever really wanted to eat a turnip. They're not a terribly appealing food and I would wager that if you lined up every person on the planet and asked them to name a delicious food no one-- at all-- would say the turnip.

So, adding that into the etymology of the vegetable being tied to the word rape, then turning "the common turnip" into "an inkwell"-- when sea creatures, like octopi, are often sources of ink, and 'well' meaning both healthy and a flowing source of liquid? It's Aziraphale making a magic trick that is a metaphor for him helping Crowley heal from the rape-related inorgasmia referenced subtly in a few, other scenes, and which is the subject of the Fish meta, if you're interested in that.

Anyway, the healthy, humorous, proskynesis-mocking apology dance is one of the scenes that serves as a direct contrast to the scene in your ask where Crowley is forced to the ground by Satan in Tadfield. That scene involves the other, more extreme end of proskynesis, which is number 6 on the sketch near the start of the meta: prostration.

To be clear: how people want to worship in any way, if they do, is no one's business, so long as it's not harming anyone else. There's nothing inherently wrong with any of this if it's of someone's free will. The scene in your ask, though, doesn't involve free choice, it involves forced subjugation, which is from where the horror of it comes.

Prostration involves lying flat and face down on the ground with your arms outstretched. It involves kissing the feet of the king or the ground that you believe belongs to the deity you're worshipping.

Prostration is complete submission. It's basically a rejection of any sense of self in full deference to the king or the deity.

In Hell, all the demons are seen as belonging to Satan. Several of them, like Hastur and Shax, refer to Satan as "our Master." They are all seen as Satan's subjects and his property-- all known as a collective referred to by Hastur in S1 as The Fallen, as we also looked at in relation to Aziraphale being Mr. Fell in this meta.

In Heaven and Hell's view, The Fallen do not belong to themselves but to Satan. Crowley's sense of autonomy and his relationship with Aziraphale are secrets he keeps because of how they conflict with Hell, where he's not supposed to have any other desire but to live to serve his rapist, who believes that he owns him.

All of Crowley's mocking of anything more than a polite nod when it comes to proskynesis is more than just being generally anti-royalty and anti-authority. The root cause of all of it is Satan.

In the scene in Tadfield, Satan is forcing Crowley to first kneel and, then, to prostrate, before him.

When Crowley clutches one hand to his chest and uses his other hand under him to keep himself an inch or two above ground, he's doing so in an effort to resist fully prostrating.

He's trying to keep his hands from being pulled out in front of him and to keep up enough to keep his lips from kissing the ground in forced subjugation to Satan.

This is probably the darkest scene in the show-- even darker, maybe, than 1.01's scene of Satan attacking Crowley in The Bentley-- because this is a whole new level of horror here. Crowley is shaking with the pain of fighting for enough control over himself to keep from prostrating any more than he is being forced to. This is happening with other people present-- including Aziraphale and kids, including Satan's own kid-- with the obvious humiliation factor being part of the attack.

Unlike in 1.01, when Satan took complete control of Crowley to a point that he couldn't speak, he's left him that ability in this scene, getting off on hearing Crowley protest. This scene shocks because the 1.01 scene of Satan attacking Crowley, and subsequent scenes reinforcing the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory throughout the story, lead the viewer to believe that this is how it will always be referred to in the story. It lulls us into a sense of complacency where we think we know what the show will do, which has the desired effect of making this scene, in which they shift that tone pretty dramatically, all the more impactful and terrifying.

Furthering the allegorical here is that Crowley is outmatched, power-wise, for the most part, but is putting up a fight. He's moved by an assailant against his will, quite violently. He's dragged to his knees and then pushed forward to the ground. He's in pain and distressed, he's lost control of his body, his legs end up splayed, he pulls in on himself as much as he can, and he's repeatedly saying the word no. I think it might be pretty much impossible to make a scene full of more direct correlations to rape than this scene. They're doing so to really underline this survivor story with Crowley that is running through so many of the other scenes.

Crowley grabs his right leg when he is forced down to the tarmac, presumably because that's the side that is being forced to move by Satan to drag Crowley to his knees. It's possible, though, that this might be also be an allusion to the aftermath of 1827.

When we saw Crowley in 1862 in the scene that functions as him still trying to deal with what happened in 1827, Crowley was carrying that cane that many think was more than a fashion statement. Something that could cause Crowley periodic pain, while also still allowing for other scenes in which he pretty clearly isn't in any pain, is the possibility that, in the 1827 aftermath, Satan broke one or both of Crowley's legs.

As any of us who have ever broken a part of our human corporations know, they can often be painful long after they heal and frequently subject to weather and stress. It's possible that Crowley had recurring pain for decades and might still into today. This is all speculative but why else might this idea also fit?

Possibly just because there are so many scenes in Good Omens that are nothing but Crowley just walking freely or hopping, owning his human body by sauntering around on the legs that are often symbolic of his life as a human of Earth, as he very notably doesn't have them in snake form... and his snake form is something that he associates negatively with his fall and Hell.

Crowley's walk at any given time is related to his sense of empowerment and, sweetly, there are also a bunch of scenes of Aziraphale just gazing at Crowley as he walks around. Including, darkly, the one that was happening when Crowley was dragged to Hell in 1827:

The scene related to this that I like best, though, is when Crowley and Aziraphale both get one over on Satan and The Metatron by successfully hiding Gabriel in S2. They grin at one another as Crowley hops down from the chair, fully in his body, landing gracefully and happily on the legs that, whether once broken or not, we have seen in 1.06 ripped out from under him by Satan before.

Hell also has some Godfather-referencing, mafia-like nods in different scenes in the series and breaking someone's legs is kind of classic mob stuff but, really, I think it's more tied to the whole forced subservience snake thing. Crowley, telling Aziraphale that he'd changed his name to one we learn in S2's Job minisode is associated for Crowley with freedom, autonomy, choice, and Aziraphale...

...from one that is "a bit too squirming-at-your-feet-ish" to Crowley. It's a comment made more horrifying when 1.06's scene in Tadfield makes it clear that this isn't just a metaphor here-- Crowley's unwillingness to be Crawly and his discomfort with being a snake makes even more sense once we have this scene in Tadfield that sees Satan knock his human legs out from under him and force him into literally squirming like a snake at his feet.

No wonder why Snake!Crowley has a tendency to prefer roaring like a lion when transforming into a snake-like monster, like he did in the paintball scene...

Crowley and Aziraphale working to reframe and claim The Serpent from Crowley's negative associations with being a snake is something I talked about in the other meta I posted recently, should you also be interested in that.

The other thing of note when it comes to this scene of Satan trying to force Crowley to fully prostrate is then the fact that, while we've looked at the horror that Crowley is experiencing here, there are some other scenes that are subtly referencing positive life experiences that can be associated with this same type of position, if the situation is consensual and of someone's free choice.

They're also the exact types of things that can be complicated by having been assaulted. Lying face down are obviously both common sexual and sleep positions, for instance...

In S1, one of the scenes that got cut was supposed to be Crowley waking up from a nap in his flat. The script book says it was supposed to be that Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling in his bedroom, which also looks to be how they were filming it from the picture of it that exists. DT filmed it standing up, presumably so that they could flip the shot around and make it look like Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling. In addition to the heat-seeking snake aspect of this, there's some interesting psychology that may be at work here.

Crowley's flat in S1 was not owned by Crowley-- Hell owned it, as we can see even more in S2-- and he was not technically safe in it. Hell isn't great with boundaries and, although Crowley had structured the flat to make it so that he might have some warning if someone were to come through the front door, there was no guarantee that they would do that. Crowley sleeping on the ceiling in the bedroom in his flat might suggest that he did so, at least in part, to try to have an advantage over someone who might show up in his flat.

It might suggest that Crowley likes to sleep on his stomach but he felt too vulnerable to do that in the bed in his flat so the only way he could make that happen there was to sleep on the ceiling, where his position would potentially be a bit more advantageous. Where Crowley likely does not have that issue is in the bookshop, as he's much safer there.

In another area of life? After 1.06 showing where the proskynesis theme was leading in that season, this scene below is then retroactively given another layer:

As looked at before, Aziraphale's hand gestures here are actually massage movements. His dialogue is also full of massage-related puns-- need/knead, back, practice. Probably also not coincidentally? In addition to just being fun and relaxing, massage is also often suggested by therapists working with couples where one or more partners has been assaulted, as it can be therapeutic on a variety of levels. The scene is suggestive of Crowley being comfortable with a variety of different kinds of pleasurable prostrate positions with Aziraphale, which stands in obvious direct contrast to the horrors of Satan.

So, here's where we're going to end this by talking about some mirroring to the scene in your ask with The Final 15, especially through using etymology. The word proskynesis comes from the Greek and is a combination of pros (meaning: towards, in this case) and kyneo (meaning: kiss). Some translations of it actually wind up being less "towards the kiss" more along the lines of "to kiss in the presence of."

Yeah... There's a word in the mix in this story that means "to kiss in the presence of" and that feels pretty relevant to the last few minutes of the most recent episode we've seen, no? 😂

In the S1 finale, the season's recurring moments of proskynesis lead towards the Tadfield scene, in which we watch Crowley wind up forcibly prostrated before Satan and resisting a kiss with everything he's got. While he'd do that anyway, what's the biggest reason as to why he was in that moment? Aziraphale, right?

It's because Aziraphale is right there and this is all already more than horrible enough. Crowley does everything in his power to retain enough control to resist this kiss because he is absolutely not kissing the Earth Satan claims is his, in forced deference to him, with Aziraphale watching.

Poor Aziraphale can't do anything about this in the moment that it's happening. He can't go to Crowley without giving away that he's Crowley's partner. They've been terrified for a long time that Satan would kill Crowley if he found out about them and, based on what we've seen of how violent and dangerous Satan is, it doesn't seem like that fear is at all unfounded.

By S2, Crowley and Aziraphale are becoming a bit less of a secret but the people who they are letting in are ones they feel are trustworthy. None of them have any affiliation with Hell or Satan. The one person around them each a bit that does have affiliation with him-- Shax-- is the one they're both still attempting to fool.

The S2 mirror of the proskynesis/"kiss in the presence of" moment from 1.06 of Satan attacking Crowley in Tadfield and Crowley resisting the kiss in front of Aziraphale involves these same three characters again... but some aspects of it are-- as they would be with a mirror-- shifted around a little.

In 2.06, it's Crowley with a kiss again-- but, this time, it's Aziraphale that he's kissing. Instead of being the person who is watching the kiss be resisted, Aziraphale is the recipient of a kiss that Crowley is actually willing to give.

Aziraphale, like Crowley in 1.06, is mostly resisting the kiss. While Crowley pushed to resist it entirely in S1 for obvious reasons, Aziraphale isn't put off by the idea of kissing Crowley in general but, in S2, is resisting it as much as he's able to do so.

Why?

Because Aziraphale knows with almost complete certainty that it's Satan watching them through the window.

[wisteria-lodge]

why is Dramione so popular and do you think it's problematic?

I. PROBLEMATIC SHIPS

(scroll down if you just want to read about Dramione)

First thing is, I don't think any ships are problematic.

There are lots of ships I don't *like.* There are ships that squick me, or mischaracterize one of the characters in a way that annoys me, or that I think are boring. But saying something is "problematic" implies that I have an issue with it's existence, and don't think that anyone should ship it ever. And that's just not ever going to be the case for me.

Like okay. I have a really strong dislike of any relationship where Character A is "saving" or "fixing" Character B. (In my head I call them Life Coach ships.) I think that's an unhealthy dynamic that breeds resentment and also doesn't work. You can support people, but in the end they gotta fix themselves. BUT. I'm ALSO aware that fixing/saving the bad boy is power fantasy, and power fantasies are fun, and cathartic, and important. Maybe it's nice to read about Lucius Malfoy or whoever responding to that sort of attention the way you wish your father or partner responded in real life. People are messy, and complicated.

To take an extreme example, I know that some people who've been raped stay away even from sex pollen and fake dating, and others actively seek out non-con, even romanticized non-con, as a way to process and deal. Basically, I think people tend to seek out media that is good for them (or at least comforting) and backspace out of media that actively hurts them. You probably have a second of disgust where you're like, ugh that's a thing? But you're not going to read a whole Snape/Hermione fic if the premise upsets you.

I bring up Snape/Hermione because teacher/student is a huge squick of mine. Doesn't matter if they're both adults, or if it's more of an apprentice thing. It's a scenario and a power dynamic that I do not like. BUT. I understand the appeal. The premise of a lot of Snamione fics is... okay, here's this powerful, intelligent, well-dressed guy who is extremely buttoned up and repressed, who doesn't give anyone the time of day. But there's something about YOU (not your prettier friends/classmates) that gets under his skin, and now he's obsessed, wrapped around your little finger. Oh and he's damaged, so he *needs* you. That's a power fantasy. And like, irl you're generally pretty powerless as a 17 year old girl, especially when interacting with men in positions of authority.

Also, like, historically? A lot of fantasies have operated under the heading of "I know it's wrong, but I still can't resist." The fact that something is wrong, is a societal taboo, well - that's a very easy, safe way to get an adrenaline rush, and up the intensity of the fantasy situation. Even the stuff people always bring up when they talk about problematic ships - underage, incest, slavery au but it's framed like it's hot, idk. They're forbidden societal taboos for really good reasons, but I don't think it's crazy to be interested in the big red button that says DO NOT PUSH.

Like how about this. In my experience, actors who play villains tend to be the sweetest, loveliest people you've ever met in your life. And I've always wondered if it's because they kind of have to unpack all the dark, sticky, destructive, perverse parts of themselves on a fairly regular basis (and then have a good outlet for those same feelings.) Everyone has parts of themselves that are not "nice" and not "proper." I think fiction is a fantastic place to air those out.

II. DRAMIONE

I am absolutely not surprised that Dramione is so popular. First, Hermione gets shipped with everyone - for a long time she was the character everyone projected on, and while that's less the case now... she's still the most important female character, and she's a *good* character. She's intense, and goes a little extreme with the problem solving. She's good at observing people but not great with people. She misses social cues. She's compensating like crazy. That's good (relatable!) stuff.

And Draco? He slots into the worldbuilding in an interesting way, he's got a *great* backstory, he's arch and a little bit of a shit, but he's also sensitive and squeamish about violence. I also think he taps into that "oh shit I was WRONG" feeling that is such an important part of adulthood. Hermione is also just going to be the walking embodiment of that feeling for Draco, so he's going to feel some kind of interesting way about her.

I think Draco is fun to ship with any of the Golden Trio, because they've all got that martyr streak and Draco is a survivor, so they clash in interesting ways and end up balancing each other out. Draco and Hermione especially are both very politically orientated people, so they're a good ship for exploring worldbuilding, wizard world reform, or pureblood politics. I also think Hermione has a feminine, girly side that she feels a little guilty about exploring - and spending five minutes around aesthetic, fashion-conscious Draco is going to give her permission to do that. They both have a streak of practical ruthlessness that I think they would respect in each other. Draco can be... a little lazy, so passionate driven people are good for him. But then I think he would be a nice control for Hermione's workaholic tendencies. Ultimately I think they're actually very compatible.

(also like. Hermione likes quidditch players. and if her crush on Lockhart is anything to go by... she also likes pretty blonde men who dress all snappy.)

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Sunday

Thanks for the tags @confused-bi-queer and @roomwithanopenfire. I am excited about all of your projects!

STITCHES Now that y'all know Beautiful Things is a collab, I can share that all my stitches have been going towards making TWO sets of smutty Baz and Simon. The second is a gift for @rimeswithpurple to thank her for all the effort she's put into the beautiful art for the fic. (Y'all are truly not ready for how amazing it is!) Since this is a new body design, the second set is all about perfecting mistakes from the first.

As you can see, the first Simon had very skinny calves. I used the Baz pattern as a base and fattened only a little, which was truly dumb of me, I know. For the second Simon (and the one I am gifting Arianna), I redid the entire pattern--both width and length--and the leg looks SO MUCH BETTER.

I suppose there is a lesson in there somewhere about taking shortcuts or constant improvement. Either way, I am excited for how much nicer this second set is turning out, even if Arianna has nowhere to display them since she has Little Purples in the house! 😆

SENTENCES So, in the spirit of sharing an actual WIP, I don't think I will preview more of my EGF. The fic is so short that I don't want to give too much away, but I do have a WIP I've been trying to workshop the last couple weeks.

After my Cheer AU for COC, I couldn't get cheer Simon out of my brain. So, I decided to try to tackle it as my next long fic. It is still very much in the planning phase, so literally everything could still change. With that said, here is a snip of a scene I've partially drafted trying to get a sense of the story and narrative style I'd like to adopt.

I cackle maniacally and shove my finger against Baz’s lips. The corners droop in distaste. “Lick it, Baz,” I insist. “You know you want to.” Baz closes his eyes and shakes his head, smearing orange dust all over his mouth like some kind of psychedelic lip gloss. He looks ridiculous. His face is all frowny and his arms are curled against his chest like the fetal position can save him from being soiled with fluorescent Cheeto crumbs. Like this doesn’t make him an even better target for the ill-considered antics of his favorite person in the whole world.  (I’m his favorite. He’s told me so.)

Happy Sunday to all. May no one smear you in cheese dust. Unless you want it, I suppose. @alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @bookishbroadwayandblind,

@confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @harrie-leithillustration

@hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli

@larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello,

@orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @rimeswithpurple

@roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer

@supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @technetiumai, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon

@thewholelemon, @valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[roxygen22]

Bus Stop (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Nic: Good morning

You grabbed your phone from your nightstand before you had even fully blinked the sleep from your eyes. A message from Nic was waiting for you. You giggled and kicked your feet in excitement as you held your phone to your chest. Last night wasn't just a dream, after all.

You: Morning!

Your fingers typed wildly.

You: You're quite the early bird.

Relunctantly tossing the warm covers away from your body, you got out of bed to start your morning routine, bringing your phone along so as to not miss anything. As you leaned over the sink to brush your teeth, you felt it vibrate on the tile counter. Just seeing his name on the screen made your heart beat a little faster.

Nic: I try to start the day with a run or bike ride. Just got back inside. Gotta hop in the shower and get ready for class. What time is your lunch break?

Blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of him being soaked in sweat or lathered up in soap. Too soon, you cautioned yourself. Thank goodness he couldn't see you.

You: Usually at noon, unless a mtg runs long.

Nic: K. I'll give you a call on my way to the station, if that's OK?

You bit your lip. How to sound positive but not TOO eager...

You: Yes, please :)

The morning crawled and meetings droned on and on. Several times you caught yourself daydreaming, staring out the window or drawing abstract shapes on your paper instead of taking notes. As the clock ticked closer to noon, your knee bounced under your desk in nervous excitement, impatiently waiting for your phone to light up.

Like clockwork, your phone buzzed in your hand at 12:00 on the dot as you ran out to the rear courtyard for a semi-private spot to talk.

"You are quite punctual," you answered. Nic chuckled.

"I've been holding my phone in my hand just staring at it for a solid two minutes waiting for the right time. How has your day been?"

"Oh, [nervous laughter] I'm not exactly sure. I spent most of the morning off in la-la-land. I had a little trouble paying attention."

"Funny you should say that. I had the same problem in class."

"Oh, yeah? What were you thinking about?"

"You first," he teased.

"No, you."

"Alright, since we're not in person to settle this with rock-paper-scissors like mature adults, how about we both say it on three?"

You laughed. "Ok. I can appreciate a good compromise. 1...2...3..."

"You."/"Last night."

"Really?"/"Really?"

There was an awkward pause that was probably not as long as it felt. You broke the silence.

"I was stoked to see your message this morning. Confirmation that I didn't dream the whole thing up," you admitted.

"I haven't had a fun evening out like that in ages. I...I felt like- like you were just so easy to talk to."

"I had fun, too," you replied. "I, uh...I dreamed about that kiss. It's been - a while - since I've been kissed like that."

"Me, too."

"Dream or a long time since the last?"

"Both."

"Awwwww!" you vocalized. "Well, you don't have to wait that long again." Your boldness startled you, so you started backtracking in a panic. "I mean, if, uh, that's what you want. Because that's what I want. I mean...," you trailed off and groaned as you smacked your forehead with your palm. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Please don't," Nic replied. "It's adorable when you ramble when you're flustered."

"You do seem to have that effect on me." The tops of your ears burned with embarrassment at your admission.

He chuckled. "So I've noticed."

After a beat of silence, you asked, "So, just curious, how long has it been for you? It's been just over two years for me."

"Almost four years. I've been trying to work on feeling whole on my own before getting involved with someone again."

"Kudos for putting in that work on yourself. My ex did not. He projected a lot of pent-up baggage onto me. I've been on a break since. It was toxic and lasted longer than it should have, and I've been in no rush to get mixed up with the wrong person again.

"But now?" Nic eagerly implored.

"Nowwwwww I think I could be persuaded by the right person," you hinted.

"Ah, I see." He paused. "[Y/N], I...," he cleared his throat. "Do you like Italian food?"

Somewhat taken aback by the jarring transition, you stuttered, "Y-yeah, I love Italian." You worried that you threw him off by mentioning your ex. Maybe it was too much too soon?

"There's this great place near the bus stop where I usually get on at Lexington and 1st. I was thinking we could go get a bite to eat tomorrow after work?"

Whew. Maybe you didn't scare him off after all. "That sounds delicious. I'd love that."

"Great! I'll meet you at the bus stop and walk you over. But for now, you should probably actually eat something on your lunch break. I just made it to the news station and need to go get settled in."

You pulled the phone away from your face to check the time. You only had about 10 minutes left. "Alas, responsibilities befall us all. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow. Bye, [Y/N]."

"Bye, Nic."

You ended the call and stared down at the dark phone screen in your hand. The fading excitement felt like you were crashing from a sugar rush. You slowly got up from the bench and shuffled back inside to get your food.

Your coworkers were standing at the ready to interrogate you. They knew you generally hated talking on the phone, but this time, you were all smiles.

"Tell us all about him, honey," the receptionist, Henrietta, demanded. "We need some excitement around here."

"What? How did you...."

"Dear, you have lovesick written all over your face!"

You blushed hard. Before you knew it, you were encircled by colleagues rolling over in their desk chairs as you recounted spotting Nic on the bus and working up the courage to say hello, and how magical that first unexpected date and kiss were last night. Once they were done peppering you with questions and chairs were rolled back to desks, Henrietta came up to you and gave you a hug.

"I'm glad you are finally putting yourself back out there after that jerk, Matt. You deserve to find love again, and he sounds like a wholesome guy."

"Thanks, Etta." You patted her arm and gently squeezed. "Time for me to come down out of the clouds and get back to work, I guess."

Small text exchanges throught the rest of the day kept you going, but you craved to hear Nic's voice again. Tomorrow felt like forever away. You knew you'd need to distract yourself with a rare visit to the gym that evening to pass the time and wear yourself out.

You were walking to the bus stop after work when you felt your phone buzz in your bag. It was a long, repeated vibration - someone was calling you. You fumbled through the main section of the bag, cursing yourself for not putting your phone in the pocket it belonged for quick access. Once in hand, you stared at the screen. Nic?

"Hello?"

"Is now a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting to get to talk to you again today. I'm off work and walking to the bus. How was the rest of your day?"

"Not bad, but I have to say it definitely peaked at lunchtime. I wanted to hear your voice again."

You chuckled. "Same here. Sounds like you are walking, too."

"The meeting isn't far from the station, so I like to get more steps in if weather permits."

"Maybe your habits will rub off on me."

He didn't respond, but you could hear him breathing on the other end of the line.

"Getting up early routinely and going for a run, walking instead of taking the bus or taxi. I have a gym membership, but I'm the worst about actually going," you added.

"Oh," he replied, followed by anxious laughter. "Hey, I made it to the meeting spot. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok. Have a good night!"

"Bye, [Y/N]."

<><><><><>

There was no message waiting for you the next morning. Trying not to think anything of it, despite the strange end to the last two conversations, and to keep things balanced, you decided to send one yourself to start things off.

You: Morning!

You had already made it to work and started on your case load before Nic responded with a simple "good morning" in return three hours later. You were elbow deep in paperwork and couldn't break away to message again until lunch, which was later than usual.

No additional texts. And no call. Desperately trying not to overthink, you reminded yourself that he said he would talk to you later, so there had to be at least some intent to make contact. He had given you no reason not to trust his word, but you couldn't take it any longer.

You: Sorry for the radio silence. It's been a busy day prepping for a case.

Nic: No worries. At work, too.

You: Still on for dinner? I should be at your stop about 5:40

Nic: Yep, see you soon

You chalked his stilted, near transactional messages up to being busy at work. For once, you were grateful for the hectic pace at work to keep your brain from spiraling. At the end of the day, you gathered your things and took a deep breath before leaving the office. You reminded yourself that you were beyond capable of handling whatever the evening threw at you.

You boarded the bus and mindlessly watched the scrolling marquee of upcoming cross streets. Your heart rate surged with each stop that brought you closer to Nic. What if he wasn't there? What if he was acting strange because he's planning to cut things off?

The next stop was yours. You stepped off and looked around once you cleared the bus and breathed a sigh of relief to see Nic leaning against a nearby pole. One worry down. He walked over toward you.

"Hi," you said, trying to sound chipper.

"Hey." He bent down and gave you a small peck of a kiss on your cheek. He looked...sad. Not the greeting you had hoped for. "Ready to eat?"

Truthfully, no. But you weren't going to fill him in on your anxieties yet, so you just nodded and walked alongside as he led the way to the restaurant in silence. Something was obviously up. You could see an Italian restaurant sign up the street, but he paused before you made it there.

Nic stepped over to a nearby bench and gestured for you to sit beside him. You did so nervously, clutching your bag in your lap so he couldn't see your hands shake.

"Hey, listen," he started. "Before we, uh, go in, I...I need to tell you something. I owe it to you and to myself."

Your eyes widened. "Oh, God. You're not, like, still married or something, are you?" Your voice raised, garnering attention from passersby.

"What? No, oh, no no, not that." Nic reached out as if he wanted to hold your hand, but hesitated before pulling it back to his leg. He looked around to see if anyone was still paying attention and took a deep breath before locking eyes with you. "[Y/N], I am a recovering addict. I have been sober for about three years now."

That is not what you expected. Your brain churned through a thousand different responses, trying to figure out the right thing to say to such big news. Before you could say anything, he continued.

"I go to NA meetings every Wednesday evening. They reminded me that... that...if we are going to get to know each other, I need you to know me. Who I am. That is part of my identity and daily challenge to continue to be my best self." His shoulders fell as he looked down at the sidewalk away from you. "I also...I wanted to give you a chance to end this early if that is too much. You deserve to be with the right person, and I understand that that may not be me."

Nic jumped slightly when you hooked your finger under his chin to lift his head up, where you met him with a soft smile.

"That is nothing to be ashamed of," you replied slowly. "Thank you for sharing. I know that couldn't have been easy, but at least now I better understand why you weren't talking much today. I thought...I thought maybe I said something wrong yesterday."

"What?! No! Oh no, I'm so sorry that I made you think that." He pulled your hand up to his lips to kiss it. "You- you're a breath of fresh air. A fresh start with someone who isn't stuck on the image of the old me."

You released a deep breath you didn't even know you had been holding. "I must admit that I can't even begin to know what your journey has been like. Or will be like. But I'm willing to take things one day at a time to find out."

"One day at a time is all I can ask for." Nic gently leaned his forehead against yours. "Thank you."

You were enjoying the closeness until your stomach betrayed you with a loud grumble. Now that your worries had eased, you were terribly famished. Nic sat up and wiped a tear off his cheek, laughing as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He stood and held his hand out to you.

"Hungry?"

"Starved," you replied as you stood and followed him toward the restaurant once again. "So what's good here?"

"Well, I prefer their spaghetti over their penne..."

<><><><><>

The End

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002 @itshonestlynotme @parkbabyj @genesis-margarita @superlegend216 @crypticslytherin

[axitheegg]

Daisuke head cannon again :3!

Defos has adhd. I can’t explain it but I feel like his lack of filter (the comments he made about Swansea being big and Swansea saying that he only thinks with his “downstairs long nose” shows he’s probably said things unprofessional so many times while working) and his impulsiveness (going into the vent, ik it was to save anya but he hadn���t been as worried as most people would have) just kinda reminds him of me!

I’m adhd (diagnosed) so idk if this is projection but honestly I love him so much and I feel like it would be so cool to see him with it.

He’s also tried meds, he takes them from time to time, which is not recommended, but he doesn’t use them majority of the time. It’s only when he gets anxious and it helps him be less impulsive and stops as many racing thoughts that heighten him more. Defos is on melatonin aswell, for sleeping since it’s difficult for him to settle down. I presume the meds he’s on is Methylphenidate which he struggles to remember to take (bc real)

Btw if u guys have any Daisuke x reader please send me them I have this, twitter, ao3 and wattpad (the horrors)

[tyrantisterror]

Wife Goals: Edelgard von Hresvelg

Alright gang, after covering Morrigan from Dragon Age Origins last time, it's time for another RPG gal here on Wife Goals, the emotional breakdown masquerading as a series of personal essays that I swear won't go more than seven entries! I swear! It's going to be video game ladies from here on out actually, both because the interactive nature of that medium makes it REALLY easy to form these unhealthy parasocial attachments to fictional ladies, AND because it's the most socially acceptable way to project your desire for romance on made up people! Huzzah for video games! Huzzah!

I don't remember exactly why, but I was in a bad headspace when Fire Emblem: Three Houses came out. It was probably just the normal "why have I accomplished so little in my life why am I still alone oh god I've wasted my time on earth" thing that's always gnawing at my brain, IDK. What I know is that the void inside me was GNAWING and I needed to fill it, preferably with something new, because replaying my age-old favorite RPGs, while soothing, would also feel... sad. You gotta try new things to trick yourself into thinking you're going somewhere, you know?

I had played Fire Emblem Awakening, and it was pretty good! Pretty fun, it had an evil witch in it who was romanceable, and that was fun. I didn't finish it, but I sunk a good few hours into it. I had also played Fire Emblem Fates and.... I shouldn't have! It's bad! It's basically Incest: The Game! Don't play it! So, you know, I didn't exactly have full confidence in Fire Emblem: Three Houses when I picked it up, but the gnawing void needed some new content, and if it was as good as Awakening, or just less incest-y than Fates, it'd scratch the itch for a bit.

Guys... Three Houses is so much better than Awakening. My void was eating GOOD that summer.

The conceit of Fire Emblem: Three Houses is that there are three nations who send their most promising young people (i.e. mostly the rich kids) to an academy located in the monastery of the Fantasy Vatican - by that I mean it's owned by the leaders of the church that forms the primary religion in all three nations. Each nation has its own "house" in the academy - fraternities, basically - and your Player character is a mercenary who's been more or less forced to be a long term substitute teacher for said fraternities despite being about the same age as the students. You're the honor student who's forced to play teacher by a struggling school district, basically, only if said honor student was hired because of their experience in killing bandits.

Which house you choose matters immensely, as the OTHER conceit of the game is that all those friendly college-aged students of yours are destined to inherit important political roles in a war that is beginning to brew, and when that war breaks out, you and your students are going to be seeing one nation's perspective in the three-way conflict that ensues. Those perspectives, or routes as they're officially called, differ DRASTICALLY, in part because the leaders among the three groups of students you have to choose from have vastly different goals they're trying to achieve. And one of those students is Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.

The first thing you need to know about Edelgard is that she is heavily villain-coded, both in general and in the Fire Emblem franchise specifically. Fire Emblem is a franchise with so many entries that it has its own recurring tropes. There are specifically archetypes that recur a lot, and one of the most common is The Big Villainous Tyrant Wearing Red. They often lead a big, villainous empire that's trying to take over the world, as you do. And Edelgard's nation... has red on their banners. Edelgard's customized school uniform includes a red cape and red tights. And the title she stands to inherit is Emperor - i.e. a title that you specifically get by owning more than one nation, and it's stated that the Adrestian Empire used to own ALL of the continent before it was fractured to its current state, which is exactly the sort of setup that led past Fire Emblem villains to start world-conquering.

She is going to grow up into an empress in red. She's the Big Bad. Maybe not right now, but if you know the genre, and specifically the Fire Emblem tropes, you KNOW she's inevitably going to be the villain. Or at least a villain - often the Big Villainous Tyrant in Red is, in normal trope terms, The Heavy, i.e. the villain you fight the most, but not the FINAL villain. The Darth Vader, if you will, with a Palpatine who reveals himself towards the end.

This is why Edelgard's route is the only route that bifurcates - there is a crucial moment, the moment right before Edelgard proves she is very much the Fire Emblem trope you'd think she is, where you have to choose whether to stand with her or not. You can choose to side against her, and if you choose to do that, or to do either of the other two routes, then Edelgard is exactly the villain you think she is, and as such, you have to kill her before the game is done. And that's all she is - another Evil Tyrant in Red, an emperor to be slain, a villain through and through.

...but this is a game about different perspectives on a war, and wars are never black and white. They're messy, and the game is very good about showing that while most of the people in this conflict have good intentions, NONE of them have all of the facts, and none of them made completely perfect choices, in part because there were very few perfect choices to make.

We get to know Edelgard very well before the crisis moment in her route. As you'd expect of a royal heir, she has a lot of weight on her shoulders from the responsibilities that leadership will bring. But she also has weight from a lot of unexpected sources as well. She's tight-lipped at first, but it becomes clear that this young woman has some horrific trauma in her past - she keeps waking up with night terrors about rats trying to eat her, night terrors that you find out are suppressed memories.

Edelgard, it turns out, is not just a royal, but also the subject of the fantasy equivalent of horrible genetic experimentation. So were all of her brothers and sisters - the only difference is that Edelgard is the only one who survived. She spent her childhood being tortured physically and psychologically to make her stronger, all while watching the same things happen to her siblings until they died one by one. Her night terrors about rats come from the time she spent in dungeons with her dying siblings.

See, the magical fantasy world of this game has a society that buys into what is essentially fantasy eugenics - noble houses are marked as such because they bear "crests," i.e. magic powers that make them stronger and more durable than normal people, which can be passed down through familial lines. Crests are said to be gifts from the gods that the Church is devoted to, so the Church explicitly supports and provides propaganda for this eugenics-based hierarchy of nobility.

Everything Edelgard suffered as a child was because of a scheme endorsed by some nobles to put two crests in one person's body - a scheme to make an ubermensch through eugenics. If it weren't for the crest system and this idea of noble, divinely ordained bloodlines, Edelgard would not have had such a horrendous childhood.

So, rather than make a girl who embodies the ideal of this system, the people who experimented on Edelgard ensured that she knew one thing was true above all else: the crest system, and everything that supports it, needs to be burnt to the fucking ground. And hey, what do you know, she now has superpowers AND is the heir to a fucking empire. With some clever scheming, she could turn the tables on the people who planned to make her a pawn, destroy the entire hierarchy of the continent, and remake society into a place where bloodlines don't matter. It'd take a lot of work and ruthlessness, but it was possible. She could make a world where no one would suffer like her again.

And, like, she's not the only one suffering! In her house alone, you have students like Bernadetta, who has become an agoraphoric wreck as a result of her father trying to force her to marry men she doesn't know to secure their bloodline's place in the hierarchy, and Dorothea, who is a commoner that had to scrape and strive just to get to this monastery in hopes of marrying into a family that will let her live without the specter of poverty hanging over her. In the other houses you have characters like Marianne, whose family's crest is said to be cursed and feels she deserves to die because of it, or Lysithea, the youngest student at the monastery who knows she's going to die in a few years because she suffered the same experiments as Edelgard did, or Mercedes, whose father was so desperate to continue his crest's bloodline that he, uh... tried to do a Fire Emblem: Fates on her. The crest system sucks, nobility sucks, the Church created and enforced all of these systems so it sucks, ALL of this shit needs to be BURNT TO THE FUCKING GROUND!

So think about that big choice in this route again. You can look at what the tropes tell you - that Edelgard is a villain, that she is starting a war that will cost hundreds of lives, and that it would be perfectly morally defensible to stand against her. If you make that choice - that very genre savvy choice - you will become the champion of the Church, literally the organization that stands for the Status Quo above all else, crush Edelgard's rebellion, and forever brand her as the villain she so definitely is.

...OR

You can see her point, and stand with the woman you took as your pupil. You can make the choice to allow yourself to be branded a villain by history if it means fighting for the possibility of a better world - and that very well could happen, because one of the secrets of this game is that you're villain-coded too. The default player character name is Byleth, after all - and that's not just any name, it's one of the fucking arch demons in the Lesser Key of fucking Solomon! You're a mercenary dressed all in black with the name of a fucking demon who just spent half the game tutoring a Tyrant in Red. If Edelgard fails, it will not be hard for history to smear your name alongside hers!

But you can be brave and do it anyways. You can say fuck it, let me be the villain, because this system needs to burn.

Edelgard makes some horrendous and evil choices in the other routes, but one of the great things about this game is that playing all the different sides allows you to make sense of the actions of other characters, and that's SO important to Edelgard's route. You are, in many ways, the crucial component Edelgard's plan needs for success. She has, until meeting you, been more or less on her own - I mean, yes, she has Hubert, her loyal minion who acts and dresses like a Dracula, but Hubert's flaw is that he is slavishly loyal, to the point that he is unwilling to tell Edelgard she's wrong. You, however, are an ally that does not treat Edelgard as a superior, but as an equal - you provide her counsel that's willing to contradict her, and as such provide insight that allows he to find better solutions to problems.

With you on her side, Edelgard never gets so desperate as to take the more drastic and cruel choices she does in the other routes. She's able to stick to her ideals without risking survival, she's able to be her best self, to offer mercy and reduce casualties as much as possible.

And it's not a one-way relationship, either. Byleth, your player character, was also a sufferer of magical genetic experimentation - Rhea, the head of the Church, basically tried to make her dead mother (who's also the main god of the church, it's a whole thing) reincarnate by implanting her crest stone into Byleth as a baby, an act that killed Byleth's mother in childbirth and resulted in Byleth always feeling half-dead as a person. In the other routes, Byleth ascends into a sort of demigod, absorbing those godly energies but never fully manifesting as the old goddess reborn.

But in Edelgard's route? You kill Rhea, and in doing so, that crest stone in your body vanishes, and your heart beats for the first time in your life. Protecting the status quo makes you a demigod - but burning it down let's you finally be yourself. Your mortal, human, living self, with a heart that's you're own, not something someone forced into you.

Edelgard does not remain emperor long when she wins - she keeps the throne long enough to put all her reforms in motion and make sure anyone who'd bring the old crest system back is dead as dirt, then appoints a successor and retires. She lives a normal life, with you if you choose to romance her, content to have made sure that the horrors she and others witnessed under that hierarchy never happen again. That was her goal, her big villainous scheme.

I don't know about you, but I think that's fucking rare in fiction - to have character look at the systems in place, think, "this shit needs to burn," and, in at least one version of the tale, be 100% right on the fucking money. God, I love her so much.

(Also, if you need additional convincing: Rhea, the leader of the church and basically Edelgard's archenemy, is a green-haired milf with a dumptruck ass who turns into a dragon, and I still chose Edelgard over her. Do you know how hard that is for me, specifically? She's got an enormous butt and turns into a dragon and I still said "No thanks, it's the albino for me!" instead. That's how much Edelgard fucking rules!)

[chilling-seavey]

Lessons in Lust and Other Illicit Desires (gr63) —EIGHT

↳ A/N So apparently I really can't keep to a word count goal. But this is one of my favourite chapters thus far!!

↳ Series Summary: Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

↳ Pairings: OxfordProfessor!George Russell x Innocent!Student!OC, Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc (background)

↳ Chapter Word Count: 7.1k

↳ Chapter Warnings: 18+, nsfw, exhibitionism, fingering, slight dirty talk.

“This project is bullshit.”

Max’s notebook paper looked about ready to tear in half with how aggressively he was erasing yet another incorrect formula. He tossed his mutilated eraser onto the wood table and raked both hands through his already tousled blonde hair, fingers clutching onto the roots as if to figuratively and literally pull his hair out. The warm light of the lamps dotted along the library table reflected in his blue eyes that were narrowed towards his page under furrowed brows and a steadfast expression of distaste. 

Rosaline and Tabitha glanced at him from their spot on the opposite side of the table but before they could say anything, he was off on a tangent, “The other engineering class gets to study and design a part of a Formula 1 car of their choosing which is fucking cool. What does our class get? An assignment to create something that will help farmers be more efficient in their harvesting techniques.” 

Max scoffed and tossed his pencil down as he slouched back in his chair with a huff.

“This idiot professor is so old he probably has never seen a car in his life.” Max continued, his tone full of seething disgust, “Still wouldn’t even have a clue even if the fucking RB19 hit him going full throttle down the Monza straights.”

From his right, Charles snickered from behind his phone screen, his eyes darting over to his agitated boyfriend. Anyone else might have been a little put off by Max’s very aggressive delivery of a borderline threat of life to an elderly professor, but their little group could only smile fondly at his frustration. 

Charles spoke up, “Do you think a person would just…explode if they were hit by the RB19 going full throttle?”

“Yes.” Max answered without hesitation, his gaze still focused on his wrinkled notebook paper and open textbook. 

Charles stared at his profile for a moment as if in thought, debating the validity, and then looked back to his phone with a satisfied and simple “hm”.

On the other side of the table, Rosaline and Tabitha looked at each other and then shared amused chuckles before turning back to their own work. 

Around them, the aged dark wood shelves of the Bodleian Old Library housed a few dozen students spending their Thursday night with their noses in dusty books and reliable laptops. Rosaline and her friends were among them, luckily having snagged a spot at one of the long centralized tables in the heart of the main hall, surrounded by well stocked shelves that stretched up two storeys to the intricately carved wood paneled ceiling.

Voices carried easily in those ancient buildings of Oxford so they spoke in hushed tones while the rustle of students pulling literary texts from the shelves sounded magnified and shiver-worthy. The sounds of knowledge, of a desire to learn, to imagine and to dream. Rosaline felt so at peace in the Oxford libraries. It felt as though the history was only heightened in those spaces; something about the lingering coating of dust on the covers of centuries old books making the past feel more alive. 

As if on cue, Tabitha turned away and sneezed as quietly as she could manage into her elbow. The sound echoed. A few students glanced over. 

Charles sighed dramatically and dropped his phone onto the table with a loud thud, his head lolling back to look up towards the ceiling. Being a music student, there wasn’t much work for Charles to complete in a library but he always came along to keep the rest of their group company. It always panned out the same way - he was quiet and busied himself at first but then quickly got restless.

He sighed again to the ceiling and then lolled his head to the side to look at Max who had since hunched over his books again, announcing, “I’m bored.”

Max barely offered a grunt in response, biting at the end of his pencil as his mind worked a mile a minute to try and solve whatever problem was currently vexing him.

Charles sighed again. Tabitha shushed him from across the table. 

Heaving himself from where he was draped back in his chair, Charles leaned his arms on the table towards Rosaline, asking her in a loud whisper, “So when do we get to know of your secret lover?”

Rosaline met his gaze over her laptop and she broke into a small smirk at his nosy question before replying, “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” Charles pleaded, “I can keep good secrets.”

“No, you can’t.” Max piped up without tearing his eyes away from his books. 

“Chut.” Charles playfully shot at his boyfriend. 

Despite her hand furiously writing out notes, Tabitha smiled at their bickering. 

Charles continued to press Rosaline, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Rosaline shrugged, “Not really. We’re just…keeping it casual.”

“What is “keeping casual”?” Charles asked with air quotes, “Kissing? Or more?”

Rosaline licked away her smile, folding her hands together under her chin as she humoured him with a little detail, “Well, I made him come in his pants last week.”

Charles let out a surprised squeak so loud it could almost have passed as a scream and he smacked his hand over his mouth as a few nearby students glared at him. Max’s pencil was suddenly dropped at her statement, his attention taken from his work to be entirely focused on her instead.

“You made him what?” he asked as firmly and seriously as he could. 

Rosaline smiled almost proudly, “You heard me.”

“Putain, Rose.” Charles breathed, “I need to know now!”

“No, you don’t.” she chuckled.

“Uh, yes, we do.” Max backed his boyfriend up, pointing a finger at her, “Start talking.”

Tabitha sighed and set her pencil down too, “Will you guys stop gossiping in the library? I’m sure everyone can hear you.”

Charles and Max both held up a hand to her to silence her. She rolled her eyes. 

“Where did you say you met this guy again?” Max asked.

Rosaline shrugged, twisting the truth only slightly, “In one of my lectures.”

Max nodded slowly, staring at her as if trying to catch her out in a lie, “Uh huh…”

“What? You don’t believe I can find myself a man without your futile attempt at wingmaning?” Rosaline countered. 

“Frankly, no.” Max replied, deadpanned. 

Rosaline shot him a pointed glare.

“What’s his name? What’s his birthday? What’s his GPA?” Max asked, trying to catch her out in a lie.

“Not telling, I don’t know, higher than yours.” she answered easily, looking back at her laptop. 

Charles’ eyebrows raised, “You don’t know his birthday?”

Tabitha chuckled from her spot across from him, “That’s what you’re concerned about? Do you even remember my birthday?”

Charles opened his mouth defensively but when he honestly couldn’t think of the answer, he shut it into a firm line. 

“Wow!” Tabitha gaped. 

Max simply narrowed his eyes at Rosaline, his voice calm and serious, “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I hope you will be honest with us - your best friends - eventually.” 

Rosaline shrugged without looking up from her laptop, “Eventually.”

As the hour wore on, the group continued working on their independent assignments. It wasn’t long before Charles’ restlessness was driving Max far more crazy than any impossible engineering task could so they said their goodbyes and left. Charles carried Max’s bag for him over one shoulder, smiling his dimpled grin as they walked hand in hand down the main hall of the library together. 

About thirty minutes after Charles and Max left, Tabitha checked her watch, announcing that she better head back to her dorm too. Rosaline watched her pack up and, upon her friend’s concern, assured her she would be able to make it back to her dorm on her own later once the library closed and she was inevitably kicked out. The two shared their good nights and soon Rosaline was left alone at the table with only the click of her laptop keys as company. 

Most of the students had gone by then, leaving only a straggling few at the far end of the spacious hall. Rosaline wasn’t a stranger to making herself comfortable in the libraries of Oxford until the librarians had to kick her out to close up. So, she felt perfectly at home with the company of the books and the warm light of the lamps on the worn wood table tops, the rest of the campus fading into darkness behind the large paned lancet windows of the library. 

“Rosaline?”

The gentle call of her name had her looking up from her laptop, turning over her shoulder to see George walking in her direction with a modest stack of books in his arm. The sight of him in the warm moody lighting that bathed the dark wood library made him look effortlessly more handsome than normal and one glance at him and her heart skipped a beat. 

“George…” she breathed at her notice of him, a small calm smile coming to her lips, “What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” he countered smoothly, coming to a stop at the head of the long table that had once been taken up by students and her group of friends. Now empty, it was only the two of them left. 

Rosaline answered first, gesturing to her laptop, “I’m just finishing up some work for some of my lectures. I have a comparative essay due next week for my Greek and Roman Mythology course.”

“I see,” George glanced down at the various texts she had opened on the table around her, colour coded sticky notes with scribbled ideas dotting the various pages, “The ancient classic literature; not my cup of tea but an important foundation to all that we know and love nevertheless.”

Rosaline leaned back in her chair to look up at him, returning to her initial question she had asked him, “And your excuse?”

George smiled a symmetrical modest smile to the stack of books in his arm, his free hand gently patting the top one, “Ah, just returning some of these. Some for lecture preparation, some for pleasure.”

“Of course, the lush libraries of Oxford could never keep a literature professor away.” Rosaline replied playfully. 

“You caught me there.” he chuckled warmly. 

They were quiet for just a moment. The awareness of how empty the library hall was suddenly settled around them. 

Then, George asked calmly, “Would you like to accompany me in returning these to their shelves? I can tell you a bit about them if you’re interested.”

Rosaline’s hand was shutting her laptop before she could even reply, “Yes.”

The well-stocked shelves of the library guided them through centuries of lives and stories tucked away in worn dust jackets and creased paperbacks. The lingering scent of dust was a familiar presence in the heart of Oxford’s many libraries and it was a generally off-putting smell that Rosaline was very quite fond of. It simply added to the ambiance of the gorgeously hand carved wooden book shelves and the glimmering stained glass lancet windows that were now dimmed with the nightfall. 

Rosaline had left her packed bag behind at the table at which she had sat, wanting to have her hands free for this little journey with George to return the precious books to their rightful homes. She followed behind him closely, her eyes soaking up his broad shoulders and back in his ironed button up shirt and, shamelessly, the curve of his ass in his slacks. It was their first time alone and away from their responsibilities as mentor/mentee since their little agreement and the concept of this had Rosaline’s heart racing. She wondered if he could hear it through the silence of the library. 

George guided her through the organized shelves with practiced ease as if he had been navigating them for his entire life. He knew exactly where every book he held belonged and barely needed to give the stocked shelf a skim before he knew which two he needed to nestle the chosen one between. He spoke to her about each one as they strolled through the library together, hidden amongst the books and ornately carved wood trim and edging. Some were more philosophical, some were more fiction, there were one or two books of poetry.

It seemed that with every book he returned to its place, he could recite at least one line, one passage, one poem from its pages. He spoke in a whisper with his voice as enticing as steaming morning coffee, rich and sensual and delicious. She wanted to taste his words; the way he spoke every beautiful constructed line of literature. Wanted to lick her way into his mouth and taste his verses until his sonnets were hers.

When he was down to the final book, he led her down the final row to its destination, “And the descriptions truly had me right in the main character’s shoes, feeling exactly what she was feeling at any moment in time. I find so many students think excess adjectives and lengthy blocks of text is what makes for successful descriptions but in reality, if done well, even a single sentence can take the place of an entire paragraph.”

They fell to a stop and George crouched down to skim one of the lower shelves, his loafers creased slightly across the toes from how he was balanced on the balls of his feet. 

While he looked for where the book belonged, Rosaline continued their conversation, “I once read this novel in which the author compared the light from a police flashlight being shone in a dark room like ‘spilt milk’ and it stuck with me. The simplest simile but it did a shiver-worthy job of putting you in the scene.”

“Bel Canto, wasn’t it?” George asked as he slid the paperback book between two hardcovers, leaving it with a pat to its spine. He glanced up at Rosaline from his spot, a knowing smile on his face, “By Ann Patchett?” 

Rosaline’s face lit up, “Yes, that’s the one.” 

He stood up again, adjusting the wrinkled fabric of his slacks around his thighs, “That’s a good one. Not too well known.”

“I’m surprised you knew it from just my brief mention of that line.” Rosaline agreed with an impressed smile, resting her hip against the bookshelf they stood beside, her arms casually crossing across her chest. 

“It must have stuck with me just as strongly.” he smiled in return. 

“It was that line that made me really want to write that one line that sticks with my readers for the rest of their lives.”

There was a beat of pause between them and then George took a step closer, “Close your eyes for me.”

Rosaline let out a breathy chuckle, “Why?”

“We’re going to practice your descriptions.” 

Rosaline wanted to argue why closing her eyes was going to help them with practicing her descriptions but his handsome, princely face in the warm light of the library lamps had her entirely entrusting him. She let her eyes flutter closed. She felt him step a little closer. 

“Pretend you are your main character and this library is your setting,” George instructed softly, voice low and coaxing, “We often depend too heavily on sight in our writing, merely showing the reader what the character sees. But the most compelling descriptions go beyond the visual—they pull the reader in by engaging every sense. So, with your eyes closed, I want you to immerse yourself fully. What would the main character be feeling right now? Let your other senses guide your words.”

Rosaline thought for a moment, taking a second to take in everything around her in the darkness of her eyelids. She uncrossed her arms and set a cautious hand on the shelf she was leaning against, shifting as she spoke slowly, softly, “Well, I feel the worn wood of the bookshelves…the uneven hardwood floors under my feet.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Rosaline, with her eyes closed, and George just watching her, studying her. The library, almost entirely void of other students or faculty rested in near silence. 

Rosaline spoke again in a whisper, “I don’t hear much…it’s quiet. Calm.” 

She thought for a moment, really trying to focus to pull anything out of her setting. If she listened hard enough, she could hear the faint tick, tick, tick of the analog clock over the librarian’s desk near the entrance, the sound echoing through the high ceilings. 

“I hear the clock ticking in the distance.” she whispered. Her attention drew back to the man in front of her, trying not to find herself a little ridiculous standing there with her eyes closed in front of him, all too aware that he was watching her, “I hear you breathing.”

George let out a small encouraging, “Mhm.”

Rosaline took a deep inhale, breathing in the scents of the library she loved so dearly, pouring out her findings in an exhale, “I smell the books, the ink, the parchment. The floor polish. The dust. I smell…your cologne.”

She could hear his soft smile at her last addition. 

Then, he spoke, “What comparisons can you make between these findings-”

Rosaline opened her eyes under a furrowed brow, interrupting him with, “Wait, I didn’t do taste yet.”

George blinked, caught off guard by her sudden reply, “Well, I don’t know how you’d-”

She didn’t know what overcame her; maybe it was the dim, moody lighting of the historic library or the simmering impatience she’d been battling since they formed their agreement. Whatever it was, it sent her hand shooting out, fingers curling around the back of his neck as she pulled him into a kiss.

He tensed under her touch at first, the shock of it surging between them. The feeling of his hesitation sent a rush of pride through her veins—he was reacting to her, thrown off his careful control. But it only lasted a moment; soon, his hands were framing her face, large and warm, as he surrendered to the kiss, meeting her urgency with a sudden shared and undeniable hunger.

George stepped towards her a little more and Rosaline stumbled slightly before her back hit the cool wood of the bookshelf. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, a soft moan escaping her lips as his mouth moved against hers with a familiarity that felt effortless, as if they’d been doing this for years. He was only a few inches taller than her, barely enough to matter, yet she found herself rising onto her tiptoes, instinctively seeking every inch of closeness between them.

Pinned between his broad body and the sturdy shelves, Rosaline felt utterly consumed by him. Shivers raced down her spine, and warmth pooled low in her belly—a heat that was impossible to ignore. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she found herself growing aroused by only the slightest of his touches, each sensation magnified by her inexperience and the thrilling realization that this was no longer a fantasy. Oh, and it was just as good as people had always told it would be. 

In the back of her mind, she was aware that they were in a very dangerous position by doing this in the open library. They were risking getting caught by any of the handful of students still working across the spacious hall or by the librarian who would be closing up shortly. Despite this, she had no desire to stop. Every atom in her body burned for more. She already had her first taste of him, a hint of the pleasure that he could bring her without even using his hands, and now, like that, she wanted to push the limits just a little bit farther. 

Rosaline’s hands cascaded over his broad shoulders and down his chest, feeling the arches and valleys of his muscle through the thin linen fabric of his button up shirt. He was so real. She offered up another small moan into his mouth. That only urged his hands to move on her face, one of his thumbs dropping from her cheek to slide over her jaw and to her chin, gently guiding her mouth to open a little wider into their kisses so he could brush his tongue against hers. 

Her fingers grasped onto his shirt, her tongue eagerly pushing back against his between hungry kisses, their steamy moment hidden away between the towering shelves of books. She wondered if this had ever happened before in the centuries since this library had been founded; some pair of literaries making out in the shadows of the books that surrounded them. Maybe this was far too salacious for the figures of the past to even dream. Maybe the authors of the Classics that overlooked them from their pages were rolling in their graves at this sight. 

Rosaline’s fingers tugged at the front of his shirt to pull him impossibly closer, their bodies naturally moulding together until his leg was nudged between hers. His closeness was dizzying and she felt the heat of desire throbbing through her body. She tossed one arm around his shoulders with her other still grasping at the fabric at the side of his shirt, keeping his chest against hers. 

George moved with her, taking his hands from her face to slide down her waist and to her hips, gently pushing her fully back against the bookshelf, pinning her entirely there with his body. Her arm tightened around his shoulders, licking her way into his mouth at a rhythmic pace of lips and tongues and the slightest rock of her hips against his thigh. She felt dizzy. So pathetically needy and dizzy and overwhelmed as the world fell away around them. No more library, no more books, no more risk; just them floating in a cloud of promises. 

Every move George made was skilled and hesitant; it was if he was afraid to push her too far or to do something she didn’t like. His hands stayed firmly on her hips but his fingers itched to move and she could feel his hesitation as they twitched against her sides. With another roll of her hips, he followed the movement of her body to trail the shape of her curves until his hands rested on her bum. 

Rosaline shivered at his touch, the way his large hands gently kneaded her flesh over her jeans and slid down the back pockets to grab another handful. His insistence had her body pulled closer to him, the heat pouring through her at the way he rubbed her body in slow tantalizing circles over the shape of her figure. 

She knew they didn’t have long. If she wanted anything more than just kissing, she was going to have to take the jump and ask for it before the librarian came wandering the aisles to close up. 

Rosaline tilted her head back to break their steamy kiss, gasping softly to the high wood ceilings of the historic library. George didn’t hesitate before moving down her neck, his plush lips trailing soft open mouthed kisses over her flushed skin. 

“It aches,” she breathed, barely a whisper, with her hands grasping onto his biceps, “Please touch me.”

George let out a small groan against her neck at her words and then pulled away just enough to look at her, their noses almost touching from how close they stood. His hands gave her hips a squeeze, his voice coming out low and warm and laced with a balance of hesitation and lust, “This is supposed to be going slowly, darling. I don’t…”

She blinked at him, her eyes pleading with him, wearing on his hesitation with her flushed cheeks and kissed-swollen lips.

“I don’t want to do something you’ll regret.” George finished softly, rubbing his hands over her waist. 

“Please, George,” she nearly begged, “I really need you to touch me.”

He looked left down the aisle they were in, and then right, and then over his shoulder as if someone could have been peeking through the shelves at them. When he deemed the coast was clear, he looked back at her and swallowed up her lips in another hungry kiss. 

Rosaline gasped faintly into his mouth, clutching onto his biceps, letting him lead them into another tongue-led kiss. His fingers moved from her hips to the front of her jeans, and he blindly undid the button and tugged at the zipper. The hurried movements had her body jolting against his, every pull and shift sending her rocking back against the bookshelf, unsteady and breathless as she clung to him for balance.

Her heart was racing in her ears, her breath falling in anticipatory pants as his lips parted from hers for a moment in his concentration. They breathed into each other’s mouths in steady time, chests rising and falling as one. Her eyes met his as his hand toyed with the waistband of her panties and the lacy hem that was found there. 

“Tell me to stop if you need.” he reminded her sternly, his voice still barely a whisper. 

Rosaline nodded in agreement. 

Then, George’s slender fingers slipped down the front of her jeans and over the thin fabric of her underwear, his eyes locked on hers as he did so. She tightened her grasp on the sleeves of his shirt, her breath halting in her chest as his warm fingertips ghosted over her clothed swollen clit. 

“Spread your legs a little wider.” he instructed against her cheek. 

She shuffled her feet farther apart ever so slightly, staring into his eyes as she followed his instruction. 

“That’s it.” he praised.

She couldn’t help but let out a little gasp at the faint friction of his touch, watching the way he studied her in their impossibly close proximity. His breath fell against the apple of her cheek as his fingers touched the damp fabric of her underwear hidden down her jeans, his touch testing and exploratory. 

Rosaline’s face turned towards his, ghosting her lips over his as their breaths mingled together, her hand grasping at his shirt around his back to keep him close. His nose bumped hers, melting into her, his fingers starting to move slowly in firm back and forth motions over her clothed clit, giving her just a little bit of friction that had her biting her lip. 

Rosaline clutched onto him, staring into his eyes like she couldn’t look away even if she tried. That hazy dreamlike feeling was clouding her senses again, where the whole world fell away and it was just them in this secluded corner surrounded by nothing but the scent of his cologne and the aged books, bathed in the warmth of the lamplight. 

His arm pulled back a little, lifting his hand from her pants, and she let out a small whimper in protest. George simply hushed her softly against her cheek as he lifted his fingers to his mouth to suck on two for just a second before he was guiding them back down her jeans and, this time, slipping inside her panties too. 

Her eyes widened in realization, watching the way his lips pricked up in an almost cocky smirk at her expression. George rubbed his fingers between her legs, gliding the length of two of them between her slick folds, letting her arousal mix filthily with his spit before he was lazily rubbing his fingertips over her clit. 

Rosaline’s eyelashes fluttered and her whole body twitched for a second at the unfamiliar sensations. It never felt like this with her own hand; her own touch was so boring and expected. Now, under the control of someone else, his every action was unpredictable and electric and the anticipation which coursed through her veins was pure heat. 

No one had touched her like this before, never before had she thought herself to be brave enough to so easily let someone in to touch the most sacred parts of her. In all twenty-two years of her life, after years of failed attempts at love, the voice in the back of her mind that nagged at her innermost self-consciousness had her wondering if her pussy was even attractive. Now, hidden in the shadows of her favourite room on campus, with the first man to ever give her a second glance, she was so easily offering herself up to him and he was so glady taking it. 

George spoke in a hushed whisper, his lips dusting over hers with the formation of his syllables, “This okay?”

Rosaline nodded almost eagerly, creasing the fabric of his shirt in her white-knuckled grip. She raised up on her tiptoes a little more as she pushed her hips towards his hand, not quite sure what she wanted but knowing she just wanted more. Her little whimper fell against his cheek, her arm tossing around his shoulders before they so easily fell into another passionate kiss. She let out a small hum into his mouth, her eyebrows furrowed as she succumbed to the feeling of his hand moving a little stronger down the front of her pants. 

They shared a few sloppy kisses in the secrecy of the library aisles, hidden in the shadows of the shelves and walls of stocked books. Her soft moan was muffled by his lips as his fingers moved a little harder against her swollen clit, his tongue easily tasting the pleasure of her sounds. He fell into her a little, taking a half step forward, pressing her back against the shelves by his body. 

George’s fingers drifted lower, caressing strongly over her warm cunt and gathering more of that wetness that pooled almost uncontrollably from her. He groaned softly into her mouth before pulling away from their kiss long enough to praise her with a purr, “You’re soaking my fingers.”

“Can’t help it.” she mumbled in reply, her words dizzy and slurred with lust. 

“Mm, yeah? Does it feel good?” he whispered against her cheek. 

Rosaline nodded again with a small, “Yeah.”

Her mind was short circuiting to the point where she didn’t have the capacity to worry about if he liked what he was feeling—if he thought it was weird that she wasn’t entirely waxed and bare down there. But the moment she caught a glimpse of George’s handsome face close to hers, saw the way his eyes were blown wide with lust as he looked at her, all those insecurities evaporated, dissolving into nothingness in the heat of his gaze. His breath was hot against hers, swallowing her lips up in another steamy kiss that had her eyes fluttering shut and her body surrendering to him with ease. 

His whole hand was nestled between her legs to the point where every caress of his fingers over her cunt had the heel of his palm rubbing against her clit. A little faster, a little faster, she broke away from his kiss with a choked cry.

“Shhh,” George hushed her against her cheek, his lips peppering slow open mouthed kisses along her jaw. His other hand rested on the edge of one of the shelves beside her head, keeping his focus on her body and the way he moved down the front of her jeans. 

Rosaline bit her lip hard, trying to keep herself quiet in the midst of their salacious rendezvous. When his hand started to move just a little bit faster, she clutched harder at his shirt, tugging him closer so she could bury her face in his neck, her body arching up against his. 

George’s large hand moved from the shelf to cradle the back of her neck, holding her, hushing her sweetly against her ear as she whimpered against his collar, and he breathed out a reassuring, “Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah-” she stumbled out in a trembling exhale. 

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.” he praised against the shell of her ear, keeping his pace down the front of her pants. 

Rosaline’s hips jumped against his hand at the way his fingertips caressed her clit in fluid motions, exploring her in gentle strokes. Little by little, she found herself loosening, unraveling from the tight grip she’d kept on him, surrendering to the unfamiliar pleasure that was slowly consuming her.

Soon, her eyes were finding his again as she leaned back against the shelf but with a possessive arm still around his shoulders. Her breaths were falling laboured as he moved his fingers a little faster, burning tingling pleasure up her spine that had her toes curling in her sneakers. 

“Fuck-” she squeaked softly, struggling to keep her eyes open and on his. 

“That’s a good girl.” George praised lowly as his hand let go of the back of her head to rest on the shelf again, steadying himself while his other hand worked strongly down her jeans. 

She was lost in the rhythm of his fingers, surprised how much she could feel from his touch when her fingers herself never offered her much sustenance of anything. There was something about George that was entrancing and spellbinding, like he knew just how to touch her to get her exactly what she craved. 

Rosaline was so out of her mind that she could barely hear her own voice as she breathed out a pleading and pathetic, “Put your hand around my throat.”

George’s eyes flickered with a moment of hesitation, a play of lust hazing the momentary uncertainty, although his hand down her jeans didn’t stop even as he asked, “You sure you’d like that?”

She nodded almost eagerly. 

He took his hand from the shelf beside her head and gently wrapped his fingers around her throat, his thumb and fingers nestled under her jaw. When he squeezed ever so slightly, her eyes fluttered and her swollen lips let out an angelic breathy, “Yeah. Yeah, I like that.”

Rosaline had written far more salacious scenes before, but experiencing it for the first time herself was a revelation that left her mind spinning. George’s grip was light, almost tentative, as if he was afraid of pushing too far or crossing a boundary. Yet even that gentle pressure around her throat was enough to amplify every other sensation in her body, making her nerve endings tingle with an intensity she had never imagined.

“Naughty little contradiction, aren’t you?” George tutted with a prideful smirk to his tone, his voice hushed and his breath falling against her cheek as he pinned her against the shelves, hand still moving down the front of her jeans, “Just full of surprises.”

Rosaline parted her lips as if to respond, but all that escaped was a soft, quivering moan. A blush crept across her cheeks, warmth flooding her face as her self-control crumbled. She could feel her steady composure slipping away, unraveling under the mounting pleasure that drowned out any coherent thought.

“Cover your mouth if you need to.” George reminded her quietly, his velvet voice echoing in her ears, “Stay so quiet for me.”

Rosaline needed no convincing as if she were moving robotically by instructions, taking her hand from her white-knuckled grip on the side of his shirt to press her palm over her mouth. She couldn’t stop staring at him despite how her cheeks burned, her attention captivated by him and the way he looked at her, the way he clenched his jaw in concentration, his handsome face slightly shadowed as he towered in front of her and hid her away from the warm lamps of the historic library. 

A few more whimpers and moans fell uncontrollably from her lips, smothered by her hand over her mouth and the gentle squeeze of his around her throat. Her body writhed against his ever so slightly, rising up a little more onto her toes as the pleasure built up stronger and stronger through her veins, coiling that unmissable warmth in the pit of her stomach, everything suddenly feeling like too much. Oh, but she wanted it so badly, she needed him to rid that ache from her body, to give her what she craved. The bookshelves pressed into her back. 

“That’s it,” George purred, undoubtedly feeling the way her pussy started to throb against his slick fingertips, keeping his pace going, right at that angle that got the best reaction out of her, “Feel all of that pleasure and let it all out for me. Nice and quiet now, like a good girl, come all over my hand. That’s it, darling. Come on.”

Rosaline’s thighs were trembling, barely keeping her upright if not for the sturdiness of George’s body keeping her pinned snugly against the bookshelf. Her breaths were coming out in strong uneven pants through her nose with her mouth still clamped shut, her heart racing with desperate need to cum. She was so close, right there, the heat pouring through her and burning her skin under the faint pressure of his fingertips against her throat. 

His encouraging whispered words faded into a murmur as she reached that precipice, feeling her entire body tense right up, her arm around his shoulders digging her nails into his back through the fabric of his linen shirt. George grunted faintly against her cheek as she toppled into her orgasm, her clit throbbing against his fingers as he kept her going through it. Her head fell back against the bookshelf with a dull thud, her hand still clamped tightly over her mouth to smother the whimper of pleasure that threatened to spill over and give them away.

The moment the peak of her orgasm tapered off and her body buzzed with sensitivity, she dropped her hand from her mouth to grab his wrist between them instead, halting his hand down her jeans. She was panting, her swollen lips glistening and red, her wonderfilled eyes staring at him, sparkling behind the thin lenses of her glasses in the dim library lighting. 

“Jesus Christ.” George breathed, his forehead resting against hers as he slowed his hand to a stop down the front of her pants and slowly retreated. His hands rested on her waist and rubbed the curve of her lean body for a moment, disconcerted by the glistening wetness on his middle finger that smeared faintly against the fabric of her shirt and left a damp, telling trace, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Rosaline exhaled, reaching between them to button up her pants again.

“That wasn’t too much?” he asked, staring into her eyes as if trying to pull the truth out of her with only a glance. 

“Promise.” she assured him, resting her hands on his chest, “I would have told you otherwise.”

“Okay,” George exhaled as if in relief, a tame smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his large hands gave her hips a squeeze, “good.”

Rosaline slid her hands up to the sides of his neck and timidly pulled him in to meet him halfway for a breathless kiss. Her heart was racing, mind whirling, in disbelief that they had just done that. It was no mind-numbing, earth-shattering orgasm as often expressed in books or movies; instead it had fallen over her in warm waves of pleasure, calm and satisfying, and filled her with a buzz of euphoric relief. She hadn’t expected to be able to come so easily from just his fingers—hell, using her own fingers did next to nothing—but there was something about the way George touched her, knew just where the most sensitive spots were, that had her entirely satisfied. 

Seconds later, when Rosaline broke away from his lips for a breath, she rested her forehead against his with a sighing, “That was…so incredible.” 

“Mm,” George let a faint smile dust across his lips in his agreement, “Can’t say I mind helping you with your research anytime.”

Just then, approaching footsteps had them breaking apart, George taking two steps away to stand casually at the opposite shelves. The librarian appeared at the end of their row.

“The library is closed now,” she told them kindly, “If you can make your way out, that’d be great.”

George offered her a polite smile, “Of course. Thank you.”

She disappeared again. 

Rosaline looked back at George, the two of them facing each other across the narrow aisle of shelves. Their expressions broke into small amused smiles and Rosaline pushed herself away from the bookshelf with a bashful bow of her head as they got ready to leave. They walked side by side back towards the table at which Rosaline and her friends had once sat and studied. The library was completely empty apart from them by then, all students disappeared back to their dorm rooms and homes. She picked up her bag from the chair where she had left it and tucked it over her shoulder. 

“This was risky,” George whispered to her, his voice quiet and gentle yet firm, “we cannot do this again. Not in a place like this.”

Rosaline replied softly as she turned back to him, “Well it’s not like I can take you back to my dorm.”

There was a moment of hesitation on his face before he finally spoke a gentle offer, “Come to my house. Tomorrow night.”

Rosaline’s heart did a little somersault in her chest and her momentary shock at the invitation and the weight it might have carried must have spread itself across her face. 

Almost right away, George was assuring her, “Just for drinks. Nothing more. Just to be away from prying eyes.” 

Rosaline couldn’t deny that the concept of going over to his house held a sense of excitement and curiosity. She pulled a timid smile and nodded in agreement, reaching into her bag to pass him her notebook and a pencil so he could scribble down his address for her. 

She stared at his profile in the dim light of the library, the shadows across his face and the crisp line of his jaw, the way his fingers cradled her pencil as he dragged the graphite across the lined page. Those same fingers that had been down her jeans only moments ago. How was this real? How was he real?

George handed her notebook back to her with a handsome smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” Rosaline exhaled, taking her notebook back from him, “See you.”

She watched him walk off towards the exit of the library and, before she too made her way out, she looked down at the page of her notebook again. In his precise curling cursive, he had written; 

30 Richmond Road — 4pm x

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[allthingsfangirl101]

Not The Abandoning Type – Tyler Owens

I jumped awake, my entire body shaking as I tried to snap out of my nightmare. I quickly turned on the light on my bedside table. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I kept repeating my mantra to try and snap out of it.

"It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago."

Suddenly, my best friend popped into my mind. Tyler Owens has been interested in tornados for as long as I've known him. While I studied human anatomy, he studied weather. We bonded over a science project in 8th grade. That year, we won the science fair and found comfort in nerding out with each other.

The only time Tyler and I were ever separated was when I went to MIT for neuroscience and behavior. After college, I came home and started working in a research lab. As soon as I came back, Tyler called me and we instantly went back to being best friends. That is, until a month ago.

A month ago, I was working in my lab when a tornado hit. My lab was completely destroyed. I spent five hours hiding in the storm cellar. The tornado was only about fifteen minutes but it took over four hours for them to clear the area and find survivors. When they pulled me out of the storm cellar, the street was gone. The only thing you could see was debris. And the bodies of people who weren't so lucky.

I moved back in with my parents due to my townhome being hit in the storm, too. Ever since I moved back in, I haven't gone anywhere. I stay at home all day and sort through my files that weren't destroyed in the storm. My phone rings a couple of times a day, but I ignore it.

I was watching TV while my Mom was at the store. I quickly changed the channel when it started showing debris from a nearby town. I didn't relax until I found a channel playing a small TV movie. My phone was ringing upstairs, but I didn't bother to go get it. Both my parents knew that if they needed to get a hold of me, I would only answer the house phone.

Someone knocked on the door so I slowly got up to answer it. When I opened the door, the smile of my childhood best friend greeted me.

"Hiya, darling."

"Hi, Tyler," I said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he said, slightly clearing his throat, "you haven't been answering your phone. I've tried calling you every day for the past month."

"Sorry," I shrugged, turning my attention to his red truck in the street. My anxiety spiked when I saw the rain clouds rolling in. "I've been a little. . . distracted."

"I understand that," he tried to laugh. "Want to go get something to eat?"

"No thanks," I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Have you left your parents' house at all since the storm?" He asked. I looked at him, instantly seeing the worry in his eyes.

"I don't have anywhere to go," I shrugged. "My lab was destroyed. So was my apartment."

"Y/N. . ." He started to say but didn't finish his thought. Instead, he smiled like he had an idea. "What if we did one of our all-night movie nights? We could order pizza and fall asleep while watching as many movies as we can."

"Sure," I mumbled. Without saying anything else, I turned around and headed to the kitchen. Tyler sighed before following me, closing the front door behind him.

I started making popcorn as he walked in. He leaned against the counter and I could feel that he wanted to talk. I grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave when it was ready and poured it into a bowl. He didn't say anything as I headed upstairs. I walked into my room with him at my heels.

"Y/N. . ." He started to say again. This time, he was cut off by a large crash of lightning.

I jumped, covering my mouth when there was a flash of lightning outside. In an instant, Tyler was at my side. He gently grabbed my shaking hands, pulling them away from my mouth. He then pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I let out an involuntary shriek when thunder echoed throughout the room.

"It's okay," Tyler whispered. "It's just a little rainstorm. Nothing else." He paused before adding, "Tell me about the tornado."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, pulling myself out of our embrace.

"Y/N, maybe we should. . ." He started to say.

"I said I don't want to!" I snapped at him. "I constantly replay it in my mind, Tyler. I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking about it can help."

"How?" I scoffed. "Talking about it is not going to make the memories go away. It's not going to suddenly make everything better."

"It can help you work through it."

"How would you know? You willingly run into storms, Tyler. Not all of us are brave. Not all of us are fearless. Some of us belong in labs, not chasing damn tornados."

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"You should go," I cut him off.

"But. . ."

"Please," I said, my voice breaking. "Just go."

I turned away from him, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, now facing my window. I could see Tyler debating in the mirror on my vanity. He studied me, maybe waiting for me to turn around. My heart sank into my stomach when he let out a disappointed sigh.

I looked at the ground, tears threatening to stream down my face as I heard Tyler's retreating footsteps. When I heard the front door open and close, I instantly lifted my head and searched for him. My heart jumped when I saw him walking down our front path.

I watched from my bedroom window as Tyler slightly hesitated at the end of our walkway. My breath got caught in my throat when he looked up and over his shoulder. He sighed before walking the rest of the way to his car. He threw his bag in the backseat from the front before climbing in.

I was just about to turn away from the window but stopped when I noticed Tyler not closing his truck door. My heart rate sped up when Tyler jumped out of his truck and jogged back inside. I turned toward my bedroom door when I heard the front door swing open and shut.

My breathing got quicker as I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. I let out a small gasp when my bedroom door was roughly pushed open.

"I ain't doing this, darling," he said, out of breath.

"Doing what?" I stuttered. He smirked as he took a few steps into my room.

"I'm not leaving you," he clarified. "I'm not the abandoning type."

My breathing sped up as he closed the gap between us. When he was directly in front of me, he gently grabbed my hands and pulled me closer.

"You need to talk about this, Y/N," he whispered. "What you went through, was not little. It was scary and you've been keeping all of it inside. You need to let it out. Please, Y/N, let it out. That's the only way you are going to get past all of this.

"And who better to talk to than the guy who chases tornados for a living?" I teased him.

"That," he smirked. He paused before adding, "And the guy who loves you with all his heart."

I studied the expression on his face to see if he was doing his usual teasing, but all I could see was love.

"Any girl would trust the guy she loved."

Tyler let go of my hands and gently grabbed my face. I held my breath as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. We soon relaxed against each other. Tyler kept his hands on my face as I grabbed his waist. As our lips started moving in sync, I pulled him closer to me.

He was the one to break the kiss, instantly leaning his forehead against mine. "I love you, darling," he whispered. "So you have to understand why I can't walk away and let you keep suffering in silence."

I leaned back, avoiding his eyes. I wanted this pain to go away, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about it. Tyler gently grabbed my chin and made me look back up at him. The second I saw his soft eyes staring at me, I knew he was the only one I could talk to. Tears filled my eyes as the events of a month ago started replaying in my mind. The second he saw the tears, he pulled me into his chest.

"It was horrible," I sobbed into his shirt. I felt him sigh as he tightened his arms around me. "I can't stop feeling the building shake. I can't stop hearing the howling of the winds. I can't stop seeing the destruction. Every time I close my eyes I see the bodies being dragged into the air. I can't sleep without reliving every moment of it."

"I'm so sorry, darling," he said under his breath. "I wish I was there. I wish I had been on your campus. I wish I had been with you in your lab. I could've gotten you out. I could've gotten you somewhere safe. I could've held you and told you everything was going to be okay. I could've helped you. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

"It's not your fault," I mumbled, slowly calming down.

"I would've been if I had gone to school with you," he sighed. I pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him.

"Ty," I said softly, "you do amazing work. You've helped hundreds of people all over the state. If you had gone to school with me. . . All those people you've helped. . . None of it would've happened."

"True," he said, dropping his voice again, "but I would've been with you."

Tyler leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I kissed him back. We broke the kiss but remained close to each other.

"Do you have nightmares?" He asked. I looked down and slowly nodded my head. He sighed as he readjusted his arms around me. "What do you do when you wake up from one of them?"

"Nothing," I stuttered.

"Not anymore," he shook his head. "Now, you call the guy who loves you."

"As long as he's okay receiving a call from the girl who loves him at 2, sometimes 3, in the morning."

Tyler gently grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss with a smirk on his face.

"I want nothing more than to be woken up to a call from the girl I love telling me she needs me."