#which was also going to be interesting and incredible and i should probably look at it at LEAST once or twice XD

[cuddlytogas]

yesterday some friends and i went to the special ancient egyptian pharoahs exhibit at the ngv, and i got so utterly entranced by a linen funeral shroud, i think i saw god and/or went completely insane for about fifteen minutes

the fibres were so fine. and not just fine, they were uniform. it was from the roman period, so only (only!) 2,000 years old, but the fibres were still so fine and uniform

i'm not good at identifying weft and warp on a piece of fabric - i think i got it wrong while i was looking at it - and obviously it's very hard to know what's inherent to the fabric and what's the product of degradation over time or mishandling, but there was this long, thin tear right down the middle, and i thought it was maybe a seam that had come apart, but the painting alignment didn't quite fit that, and there were a few threads crossing through it that i could see, so i wonder if maybe one or two weft threads had degraded or torn or been pulled loose. but the tear was so straight and exact, and held together at one end by the other fibres, it was so incredible to see

and there were a couple of places where i thought there were slightly chunkier threads - it happens all the time in modern linens - but when i looked closer, i could see that actually it was two threads in the same part of the weave (warp threads, i think?)

and again, okay, could be a product of the degradation, or damage - but also... it could so easily have been a slight fault in the manufacturing, and i don't know the first thing about ancient egyptian weaving techniques, or what kind of loom they did or didn't use, or any of that - but still, it was so easy to imagine these two warp threads being set slightly too close together on a loom, and being caught together by the weft, and leaving this slightest bulge, this perfect imperfection in the cloth

it was beautifully, intricately, colourfully painted, too, yes - but underneath that, i can only imagine that lovely dun, beige colour was unbleached and undyed; and yet again, yes, of course it would've darkened with age and use - it was a funeral shroud, there was a corpse under it once - but to look at this linen and see the colour of the flax two thousand years ago, it's just - absolutely mind-boggling

the whole exhibit was deliberately structured around highlighting the craftsmanship behind the artefacts, as well as the power, social structures, and cultural significance they represented, which was fairly well done. I watched that video after seeing the exhibition, and in hindsight, yeah, I did notice that many of the labels highlighted the detail and excellence of the items, and they had things like jewellery moulds and scribe's tools, as well as the big impressive statues and murals. at least a couple of the room introduction wall texts made sure to mention craftspeople; and there were a few places dedicated to both the bureaucratic structures, and working people and villages, that created and kept up the temples and palaces.

but there was also definitely a slight lack of information, i felt, in regard to the crafts, especially if that was their goal. i might also just be underestimating the general public, but there were a few times where we were wondering what something in an image was, but found nothing in the label; and it would've been cool if they, perhaps, had images or recreations of craftspeople in the period showing how the items would have been made.

like, obviously i'm biased towards the fabric, because that's my craft - and to be clear, the shroud was part of the room on jewellery and adornment, with the label pointing out the jewellery worn by the painted figure, rather than the craft of the item itself. but it would've been cool to have, in this example, either a contemporary image or a recreated one of what tools would have been used for the spinning and weaving of this cloth, and by what groups.

there were many parts of the exhibit where you could see on the glass where people had pressed their hands or noses or foreheads to try and get close, to see the intricate work on tiny rings or murals or votive items, the engraving and carving and painting done with such incredible skill. and again, they had those scribe's tools, and jewellery moulds, a few weapons, and (iirc) both ritual and functional builder's tools. which i DID VERY MUCH appreciate!

but fibre arts are already often devalued in our culture, and with industrialisation, we've really lost sight of the work and skill that, for thousands of years, went into making fabric. i would've loved to have seen them highlight not just the image of jewellery on this shroud, but the shroud itself.

because, yeah: this linen was beautiful. and to see this cloth, with these fibres that are finer and more uniform than many modern fabrics... like, obviously it's very good linen - the label only said it was for a woman called Isetweret, not what her status was, but i think it's a safe bet she wasn't the proletariat - but still.

just. i really fucking love history, oh my god

[mythalism]

my #1 complaint with veilguard is probably the lack of moral complexity and maturity and how much of northern thedas is sanitized and almost all issues (outside of solas and mythal, which they knocked out of the park imo, but the moral complexity of them as characters and of their relationship makes the lack of nuance in every other faction and relationship stand out even worse) are presented as black and white, good vs. evil. i think the absence of the presence of slavery in northern thedas is the most egregious example of this. the crows are found-family heroes with absolutely no mention of the fact that they canonically populate their ranks with abused elven child slaves and kill them if they try to escape. we know minrathous to be the capital of a massive empire that was built and founded on slave labor and blood magic. the slave trade is baked into every single stone of that city, and it should be everywhere in a disenfranchised area like docktown. and yet.... its nowhere? its like they went, "okay well the factions all need to be GOOD and slavery is BAD so lets just pretend it doesnt exist so we dont have to talk about the way these factions have historically participated in it!" a few codex entries? a few mentions of freeing slaves by the shadow dragons and by solas but its never actually depicted? i think its something a lot of people have picked up on in accusations of the game feeling like something made by marvel or disney, and a lot of people are attributing that mostly to the art style and cheugy dialogue, but i honestly think it is the very simplistic and juvenile presentation of what should be complex issues diluted down to the sort of hero vs. villain, good vs. evil no-nuance conflicts that is creating that juvenile feeling, rather than the art style. past games have always had cheesy-ass dialogue and the graphics have never been the highlight of the game, but neither had the same feeling of playing something incredibly glossy but also incredibly shallow, especially in a franchise that is famed for its complex and nuanced (though, often poorly done and racist - looking at you qunari and dalish) depictions of sociopolitical issues through a fantasy lens.

but whats especially interesting is that the artbook (just the first 50 pages that are free) reveals that... this was present in the early stages of the game. the concept art of tevinter is full of disturbing depictions of slavery, as is the concept art of arlathan. now, to be clear, slavery is not a morally complex or ambiguous issue. slavery in fantasy is often depicted in ways that is damaging and problematic, especially when written by people who have no real understanding of it and its lasting effects on a group of people. bioware has been guilty of this in the past.

however, i think it is the best example of the shallowness of veilguard when compared to both the past games and the concept art. other examples, however, include literally the Qun as a whole suddenly being UNAMBIGUOUSLY EVIL combined with, imo, a super racist depiction of the antaam as mindless and animalistic, absolutely no exploration of racism against elves other than like, one mention from davrin in a game that is basically all about elves, blood magic being unambiguously evil rather than exploring how it is being used and for what purposes, the complete absence of the mage-templar mass incarceration and mass-lobotimization conflict, isseya being afforded none of the empathy that solas is given and instead presented as unambiguously evil and deserves to die, the grey wardens being heroes who definitely do not manipulate disenfranchised people into escaping their lives to join an order that will steal their bodies and eventually their minds and futures from them, and much more. going from a world that was so willing to at least ATTEMPT to depict the horrors of empires that utilized slave labor to build, the way dehumanization facilitates and interacts with these issues, violent class disparities and how poverty forces people into crime, the effects of institutionalized racism even after slavery has been legally abolished, with stories like that of varania and fenris, of zevran and taliesin, to.... finally going to the site of the horrors they faced and to find it to be completely sanitized? and yes, they did not always land, and i have a lot of issues with their execution of some of these representations (the option to give fenris back to danarius and having anders approve??????? HELLO?), but at least they TRIED to tell a story about a man recovering from the trauma of something so horrible and learning to trust again. so what happened in the middle? were they afraid of their own ability to handle the topic due to past criticism instead of attempting to learn from it? instead we are just going to pretend like it doesnt exist? we're not going to talk about it? its literally the most insane elephant in the room. of course fenris and zevran couldn't make cameos in this game, because then they'd have to make a statement on a painful, real, and difficult to discuss topic that actually means something, instead of using a warehouse full of elves being guarded by armed police at the docks as a hollywood-style backlot and depict an empire built on the blood sacrifices of the poor and enslaved as just another fun little area to explore. how does neve fight for the people of docktown but slavery literally never comes up in her story????? we know that blood magic exists but we never see who is being disproportionately used for those blood sacrifices?

i think its especially interesting considering how explicitly supportive of trans people this game is, which is fantastic and i admire bioware deeply for making such a strong and unapologetic statement of their values of acceptance. but that strong statement makes the lack of any other strong statements or exploration of issues even mildly contentious (again, slavery is not even a contentious issue, and i think that's why their fear to depict it at all, much less as unambiguously horrifying, is so insane) leaves the world of northern thedas feeling so shallow and sterile. it is as if bioware doesnt trust me to engage with topics like an adult capable of using critical thinking skills, and did not trust themselves to depict these issues like adults capable of critical thinking skills either. maybe, considering the presence of these things in the artbook, this was on EA for pushing for more mass-market appeal, or maybe it was really the bioware devs backing away from difficult topics due to a lack of confidence to do them justice. idk. but its really disappointing to me

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a “war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[yelenasbraid]

on your doorstep — joe burrow

summary — he really likes you, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he likes you.

warnings — fem!reader, lsu!joe, fluff, absolute sweetness, oblivious reader, flustered joey

note — my very first lsu joe fic 🤭 figured it was needed after the loss last night :( there is a fic coming from the game tho! but probably won’t be out until later this week.

LEAVING OHIO STATE was tough. as much as joe knew that it was going to be better for his football career, he had to start over. again. he didn’t want to meet new people in his classes, again.

to make things worse, some of his credits from ohio state didn’t transfer right. so, he had to retake some of his gen ed classes. it just made joe dread the transfer even more, but as he walked into one of his political science classes, he sat next to one of most beautiful girls he’s seen.

as his first semester went on, he got to know the girl beside him. you were incredibly smart; you grasped the content a lot quicker than he did. you were friendly too, easy to talk to and overall he just liked being around you.

so when it came around to an exam, of course joe asked you to be his study buddy.

“don’t you have practice basically all week?” you asked him as your class ended. he shrugged, offering you that goofy, boyish smile.

“well yeah, but i also really want to pass this class,” he replied, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulders. he was cute, especially with how his hair flipped out from under the snapback. his hair was still long, yet he swore up and down he was going to cut it. you liked it long, you liked how he had this happy-go-lucky thing about him, and you also liked how he wasn’t like some of the other players you met. you were drawn to him, but you kept your distance. you knew of the stigma around football players.

“you kinda need to,” you teased as the two of you exited class. ever since joe met you, he’s wanted to be around you. he found himself enjoying class just because you were in it. he had something to look forward too; you made political science interesting to him. you were normal around him too. when you found out he was the starting quarterback, you didn’t lose your mind, didn’t ask for an autograph, or even give him a look. you simply nodded your head, telling him it was cool, and moved on.

at first he thought he should be offended by how nonchalant you were, but as he got to know you, he wasn’t. he enjoyed the fact you two were friends, and not because he played football.

joe rolled his eyes at your comment as you two walked out of the building. it was a rather warm day in the bayou, the sun pelting down on the both of you as you stopped at a nearby cafe.

he liked how the sun made you glow. he liked how you hated the heat, but still made a point to be out in the sun. every interaction he had with you built a butterfly nest in his stomach, and the longer he knew you, the stronger the butterflies got.

“smoothie?” he asked you as you stood in line at the cafe, pulling out your card.

“of course, it’s too hot to not have a smoothie,” you smiled, looking up at him. he was so effortlessly adorable, but he was also kind. you had a mutual love for marvel and would often go on tangents about theories. you’ve never felt so at home with someone that quickly. you felt safe with him, which bred these annoying butterflies in your stomach. he’d never like you, you were just another friend, right?

“right, and it’s a strawberry yogurt smoothie, right?” he asked again, a prideful yet boyish grin plastered on his face. you looked up at him surprise, smiling.

“i’m surprised you remembered,”

“you get it every time we come here, i can’t help but remember it,” he teased. he remembered your order the second you told him, and he’s not forgotten it since. it’s only been a few months and he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. he was so down bad for you it hurt, but you wouldn’t like him. you didn’t seem the type to go after a football player, right?

“that is very true,” you agreed with a laugh. you went to pay, but joe stepped in front of you. you barely had time to question him before he ordered. he stepped back to wait, you joining him.

"you didn't have to pay for me," you told him as you stood next to him. he felt his cheeks redden, heat rising to his ears.

"you were too slow," he teased, but in reality he wanted to pay for you. he wanted to make you feel special and feel like you were the only girl in the world. your smoothies came, and you saw he ordered two strawberry smoothies.

“stepping out of your comfort zone?” you asked, grabbing your smoothie.

“you slurp those things down like it’s candy. i had to try it,” he shrugged. despite acting nonchalant, he wasn’t. he wanted to try the things you like, to do the things you enjoyed. he took a sip of the smoothie, your eyes watching for his reaction.

“you have good taste,” he complimented, a blush rising to his cheeks. every time he complimented you, even if it was small, his heart raced and he got all nervous. would you look too far into it? would you see that he liked you?

“see? they’re good! plus, it’s not too unhealthy,” you grinned, gently shoving him as you sipped your own. you felt eyes as you walked out with joe. he was the star quarterback; people believed that he was going to do lsu a huge favor. you believed it too, but you weren’t appreciative of the stares you got, or the backhanded comments you got.

“it’s so loaded with sugar,” he laughed.

“and yet you’re still drinking it,” you defended. it was the moments like this that you lived for. the smile from joe, the way he walked in step with you, the way he’d walk you back to your apartment. you wanted to be around him all the time, but you couldn’t be. he had practice, and you had other plans too.

the two of you were making your way to the student union to do some studying. would any studying get done? probably not. every time you attempted to study, you ended up goofing off. it happened every time.

you found a table, sat your stuff down, and got out your laptops. you guys actually studied for about 30 minutes until joe showed you a funny video.

“you hear the sound it made when the ball hit his head?” he was giggling so hard as he showed you this video he found. it was two brothers playing baseball in the living room of their home, the ball being a wiffle ball, and it bounced off the younger brother’s head. that then prompted the bat to fly out of the younger brother’s hands, and the chaos of the video was what had joe shaking with laughter.

“how did he not break anything?” you asked with a fit of giggles yourself.

“i don’t know,” joe laughed, a good silent laugh too. you started laughing because of how joe was laughing. you covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles, but it was to no avail.

after a while, your giggle fits died down. you wiped tears from your eyes as you attempted to focus back on your studying.

“what’re you doing tonight?” joe asked you, wiping tears from his eyes.

“as far as i know, nothing. why?” you replied, flicking your eyes to meet his. every time you looked at him, you fought the urge to trace his features with your eyes. his lips, his jawline, his hair, even his neck. it drove you wild and made your nerves go crazy. oh what you would do to kiss him.

no, no you couldn’t think like that. he didn’t like you like that.

“we should have a movie night,” he suggested. you’ve had a movie night before, but it was more structured. mutual friends were hosting a movie night, and you two happened to go.

“sure, what movie are you thinking?” you asked, feeling the nerves bubble up inside of you. you had to keep your cool, absolutely had to.

“i’m thinking the original avengers movie. it’s been a minute so i thought we’re due for a rewatch,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his smoothie. he watched you, observing how your eyes squinted in thought, how your fingers hovered over your keyboard. he watched how your eyes flicked over his expression, and how badly he wanted to do the same. you were beautiful, and the way you sat there, a smile on your face that lit up your eyes; he’s never wanted to kiss you more in his life. suddenly, he was nervous to even be in the same room as you.

“oooh yes, i agree. your place or mine?”

“let’s do my place,” he suggested. his roommate was out of town and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. so, he had the apartment to himself. which was a good thing.

“great. should i meet you there?”

“no, i’ll pick you up,” he offered. he was bold, trying to keep his confidence as he planned this night out. he didn’t know why he was so nervous, actually, he did. joe liked you, he was falling for you, and it’d hit him like a brick wall. he’s never this nervous for a game, but having a movie night with just you? he thought he was going to be sick.

“oh, what a gentlemen,” you teased, feeling warmth spread across your body. you fell for him, and he was going to be the end of you.

—

you’ve been to his apartment before. it was kept clean, smelled nice, and not to mention it was clean. it was different this time, though. you weren’t going to drop something off, you were going to hang out with him. something very normal but very nerve wracking.

your phone buzzed with a text from joe. ‘i’m here!’ you scrambled to find your things, and once you did, you were out the door.

you walked down the stairs, trying not to trip and fall because of how shaky your legs were. you found his car, and before you could open the door yourself, joe stepped out.

“what’re you doing?” you chuckled, watching as he opened your door for you.

“making my mama proud,” he grinned. you rolled your eyes and shook your head. it was sweet, and god it made you fall for him even faster.

little did you know he was sweating just by opening the door for you.

“i bet she is,” you told him, sincerely. you knew his mom was proud of him. you knew that a lot of people were proud of him. you grew to be one of those people, especially after learning about his experience at ohio state.

joe got in, and started the drive to his place. soft music played over the speakers, but the silence wasn’t awkward. you leaned back in your seat, watching as the world went by. you turned your head, watching as joe had one hand on the wheel and the other on his thigh. why was driving so attractive to you? for a split second you imagined his hand on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. you erased that image; it would never happen.

joe pulled into his place, got out, opened the door for you, and led you up to his room. the whole car ride had him nervous. he kept wringing the wheel, thinking about the night ahead of him. he wanted to tell you how he felt, but what if you didn’t feel the same? what if you rejected him? he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you rejected him.

he unlocked his door, stepping in behind you.

“home sweet home,” he sighed as he tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter. joe watched as you walked in, blanket in hand, dressed in your comfiest clothes. he wanted you for himself so badly, but not now. he wanted a movie night with his best friend, and he’d have that.

“make yourself at home, i’ll grab some snacks,” he announced. you nodded, taking a seat on the couch. you laid the blanket over your legs as you turned on the tv. joe joined you, a bowl full of pretzels in hand. you raised an eyebrow at him as he sat down.

“pretzels?”

“don’t lie, you love em,” he grinned as he popped one into his mouth. you rolled your eyes, selecting the movie. you cuddled into the couch, facing joe. joe offered you the pretzel bowl, and you took a couple.

“thanks,” you hummed. you looked so soft, so comfortable, and he wanted to lay there with you. he wanted to feel you against him, your fingers through his hair, your lips against his. he fought everything in him to not reach out and hold your hand, or lean against you. it was going to be a long night for him.

—

as the movie came to a close, you adjusted yourself on the couch. the pretzel bowl was empty, and now you and joe faced the tv. you sat next to him, feeling his warmth radiate out from him. you gravitated towards it, leaning against his shoulder. you looped an arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder. exhaustion was creeping up on you, threatening to take you hostage. you stayed awake, barely.

joe, however, was electrified. the second he felt you against him he stiffened, but then forced himself to relax. he didn’t want you thinking he didn’t want you to do that. it was the opposite, he’s been silently begging for you to lean on him. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his hand resting on your arm. his fingers danced on your exposed skin, and he was hoping he wasn’t freaking you out. you both weren’t big on physical touch; he was lucky if you hugged him. this was a different feeling, one he didn’t want to let go of.

the second you felt his fingers on your arm the butterflies erupted in your stomach. warmth spread across your body, shivers crawling over your body. you wanted his touch on other areas of your body, but you stayed still.

the movie ended, but you stayed there. you didn’t want his touch to leave you, but it was late, and you were falling asleep. you needed to go home, but you were going to be thinking about this night for a long while. you pulled away from him, your cheeks a bright red.

“i love an original 6 movie,” you cleared your throat as you stretched your tight limbs, a yawn escaping your lips.

“me too,” he agreed. it was time to drive you home, the worst part of the night. he didn’t say what he wanted to say, he didn’t tell you how he felt and how you lit up his life. why did he let his nerves, his fears, control him? they didn’t on the field, so why now?

you gathered your things, slipped on your shoes, and got into the car. the drive home almost put you to sleep, especially since the music was low enough to tempt you.

joe pulled into your apartment, parking the car.

“what’re you doing?” you yawned.

“i’m gonna walk you up,”

“no, no you don’t have to do that,” you rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them. joe thought it was cute, especially since you were so sleepy.

“please, my mama raised me better,” he told you, getting out of the car. joe and his mama. joe opened your door for you, and you stepped out. he walked with you up to your apartment door, his mind racing. now was his chance, he had to do something.

“we should do movie nights more often,” you suggested.

“we should. maybe we can watch the entirety of the mcu this semester,” joe added as you got to your door. you fiddled with your keys as you unlocked your door. as much as you didn’t want to walk in, you were exhausted.

“thanks for tonight, it was fun,” you smiled sleepily at him. he shoved his hands in his sweats pockets and shrugged.

“don’t mention it,” he watched as you started to walk in to your apartment, and his heart lurched.

“y/n, wait,” he called, grabbing your hand, spinning you to face him. you looked at him with a worried gaze.

“what-” you couldn’t even get the word out before joe’s lips found yours. you were shocked, but before you could process he pulled away. he opened his mouth to speak, but you grabbed his collar and pulled him back down to you. your lips met, and his lips were just as soft as they looked. your hands looped around his neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing you as close as he possibly could.

he couldn’t believe he was kissing you. he couldn’t believe he felt you against him, that you were kissing him. he imagined this for a while, the feeling of you in his arms and the taste of you on his tongue. he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. he smiled, not being able to control himself.

“i’ve waited so long to do that,” he admitted softly. you chuckled, feeling a blush on your cheeks and butterflies in your stomach.

“me too,”

“let me take you out on a date,” he suggested, pulling his forehead from yours. you looked up at him with a twinkle in your eye.

“i’m all yours, burrow,” you hummed, which prompted him to dip his head in, softly kissing you again. you wanted to stay there forever, kissing him on your doorstep, feeling his hands on your body. you never wanted the moment to end. you looked forward to that date, and hopefully, many more to come.

i can’t believe i’ve not written for lsu joe before??? and now he’s all i think about??? anyways, pls enjoy this absolute fluff piece! lsu joe is such a cutie so i had to write for him. hopefully this makes up for the terrible, depressing loss we had last night 😭

[mypoisonedvine]

"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately.  No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it.  And believe it or not, he wanted more than that.  Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone.  He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night.  Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you.  He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job.  It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels.  The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security.  This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window.  His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation.  But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

~

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you.  He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with.  Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you.  It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction.  Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong.  This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been.  His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike.  God, did he really have a crush?  How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said.  He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive.  "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer.  Like fish in a barrel.  "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again.  "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious.  Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about.  He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson.  It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him.  “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained.  “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying.  And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still.  A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do.  And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people.  You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again.  He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it.  No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all.  Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive.  Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied. 

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around.  Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own.  I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled.  “For me it’s probably cocktails.  I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess.  Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected.  All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh.  “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration.  After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself.  Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far.  Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment.  “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown.  Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off?  You’d seemed so flattered before.  “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice.  “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face.  “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there.  So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch.  “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there.  I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly.  “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on.  “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace.  “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply.  “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself.  Bitch.  But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course.  Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted.  Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician.  But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

~

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him.  He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties.  “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him.  But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going.  Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth.  “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck.  “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while.  “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long.  That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait.  I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything.  “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet.  It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day.  Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that.  “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face.  “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly.  “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned.  “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers.  Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself.  Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen.  And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours!  Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek.  “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this.  Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest.  “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck.  “You’re right— you can do whatever you want.  I can’t stop you.  Isn’t that what you wanted to prove?  Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated.  “No, no— you wanted me.  I could tell.  Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you.  “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.  

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts.  “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come.  “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick.  “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic?  That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only.  That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least.  You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.  

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved.  “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin.  You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.  

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself.  You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head.  He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip.  “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head.  “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say.  Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.  

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.  

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further.  His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum.  "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled.  You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away.  Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other.  "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.  

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking.  Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you?  Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open.  Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course.  Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely.  “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips.  “So wet.  Fuck.  When’d you get like that, huh?  Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly.  “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed.  “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction.  There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips. 

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless.  “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised.  “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside.  He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks.  “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl.  Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet.  He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head.  “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned.  “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on!  Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this.  From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening.  Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly.  “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you.  You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside.  “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, it’s tight.  Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town.  I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this.  The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment.  “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously).  “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend.  You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust.  Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life.  “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to.  It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this.  “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once.  Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder.  He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore.  Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck.  One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss.  “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him.  “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again.  That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late.  “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this.  “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair. 

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole.  “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain.  “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper.  Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling.  “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See?  Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb.  Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck. 

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass.  You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster.  “Needy little slut.  You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone.  “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue.  "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction.  "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why.  It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird.  Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.  

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting.  But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back.  Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected.  You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly.  “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly.  “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him.  For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure.  “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going.  “Fuck!” you screamed.  “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.  

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something.  Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized.  Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder.  “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll.  Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries.  If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good.  You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious.  And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless.  You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually.  Shameless.  Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed.  “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.  

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.  

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm?  Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that.  “What?” you just asked groggily.  “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going.  Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific.  “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing.  But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could.  You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor.  Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him.  He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat.  “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest.  You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.  

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved.  It’s over, he’s finally done with you.  You did it.  It’s over.  But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you.  “You see it, don’t you?  He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time.  His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing.  You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that.  Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you.  But what had you done wrong?  All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person… 

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder.  “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek.  “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault!  I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly.  After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence.  “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took.  Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you?  Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?” 

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience.  You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that.  I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked.  “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself.  “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[helenofsparta2]

Percy, Nico, and Jason should have fallen into Tartarus together, while Annabeth should have remained with the rest of the Seven in House of Hades. Please hear me out.

1.

For one, this way Tartarus would have been much more intimidating. At least in my opinion, it has pretty much lost this aspect, especially after Sun and Star. Tartarus is the prison of the titans, a place so scary and so dangerous, that only the best of the best can make it through. Homer described it as being as far beneath Hades as heaven is above earth.  Overcoming it should be the ultimate challenge.

Yes, Annabeth is smart, incredibly so, but, I feel like, because Rick wanted her to be useful in Tartarus, he used a lot of cheap tricks in her POVs to get her and Percy over obstacles, which seem a bit too simple to really work against beings like Nyx. This took the heaviness away from them being down there and felt at times even anticlimactic. Don’t get me wrong, again, because I know this is a sensitive subject, Annabeth is smart, has a strong resolve and is great at hand to hand combat, but that’s it. And, in my opinion, that should not be enough to overcome Tartarus. If it would have taken a child of each of the big three working together to only barely make it out, it would have definitely reinforced that status, and also the gods’ belief that such children can become too powerful.

2.

Secondly, Percy not letting go of Nico’s hand, would have done wonders for the development of their relationship and for each character’s individual arc.

Imagine, Nico dangling from the edge, instead of Annabeth. Nico, who had only days prior pretended like he didn’t know Percy, who is so full of self-hatred, he thinks the entirety of camp half-blood hates him, who is already weakened by being imprisoned in the jar, and who is scared out of his mind by the idea of being alone in Tartarus again.

Imagine Nico staring up at Percy, clasping his hand, while Percy looks up at Annabeth, the love of his life, whom he had been separated from for months. Imagine Nico being convinced, that Percy is going to let Nico fall down to stay by her side.

But Percy refuses to let go.

He refuses to let go, even after Nico tells him he should do it, and decides instead to fall together with him into the worst place on earth, just so Nico doesn’t have to endure it alone again. It would have further reinforced Percy’s self-inflicted role as Nico’s protector which he already had in the original five books and his fatal flaw of loyalty. To Nico, it would have given him a worse inner conflict about having a crush on him, which could have been revolved while they were travelling together.  The confession scene would have been much more impactful and healthier, if it would have come from Nico himself, and if he and Percy would have had a more in depth talk about it.

And if Jason would have flown after them in a moment of desperation, it would have reinforced the sense of loyalty and protectiveness that he had already shown when he had saved Piper at the grand canyon. The scene with Polybotes could have also taken place in Tartarus instead, and him and Percy working together, and putting all of their differences aside would have been a much more interesting dynamic than the stupid, out of character, rivalry bit they’ve got going on in Mark of Athena.

And, to be honest, just having Nico, Percy and Jason go all out, would probably be one of the coolest scenes in the entire Riordan verse.  

3.

All the while, Annabeth could have really cemented her role as a leader. I love her character, but to say that she has more leadership capabilities than Percy is laughable to me after reading the original five Percy Jackson books. These books are, after all, about Percy’s hero’s journey from an inexperienced kid to a smart, powerful and wise hero and the leader of camp half blood.  Annabeth, in comparison, shows relatively little of that. (Obviously this makes sense, considering that the books are from Percy’s POV and revolve around him, but the complete switch-up to saying that Annabeth is the natural choice as leader of the seven just felt a bit out of the blue to me in Mark of Athena)

Her leading the rest, in a moment of such a tragedy and remaining strong would have really reinforced the strong resolve that she had already shown in holding the sky in titan’s curse and in remaining steadfast despite all the horrible things that happened to her with her father’s rejection and luke’s betrayal. Annabeth’s relationship to Piper, Leo, Hazel and Frank, which is painfully underdeveloped in the books, could have also been given some much needed attention. Like, I can’t remember a single scene where she and Hazel, or she and Leo really talk to one another, which is a shame, because they could have had really interesting dynamics with one another.

It also would have also been a powerful statement about Percy’s and Annabeth’s relationship, if they, while separated, still believed in each other and trusted that the other person would get the job done.

Without powerhouses like Jason and Percy on board of the Argo II, Hazel and Frank could have really shone as individual fighters. Hazel is probably the second, or third most powerful demigod in the entire franchise, but barely gets any attention, and for a guy, who is apparently so powerful his life had to be tied to a stick, Frank seems, outside of one or two scenes, also pretty underwhelming.  

Without Jason, Piper’s and Leo’s friendship could have also gotten some more attention, and generally the reunion scene at the end of House of Hades could have been much more impactful with these character dynamics. I mean, Hazel, and Nico being reunited, Jason, leo and Piper, and Percy and Annabeth, and Percy, Hazel and Frank.

One of the biggest problems, I have with Heroes of Olympus is the extreme focus on romantic relationships. Having some couples be separated from each other like this, would have also solved this and given the only couple still together, Frank and Hazel, more room to develop.

[moonstruckme]

i want this to be a series even if i'm the only one who will read it

would you do more royal!au sirius x reader??? please??? i mean the fluff and the banter alone are ripe for more situations but the smut of banging in a castle in formal wear or the angst of some great big political problem??? i'm here for it allllllll

only if you're interested in it

Absolutely I would! Thanks for requesting lovely ;)

cw: nausea, controlling family dynamics

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.1k words

You lie atop your bed, rubbing the sheets between your thumb and pointer finger. You estimate their thread count is about ten gazillion. The duvet piled by your feet is probably stuffed with feathers of a goose hatched from a golden egg and raised with a silver spoon right here in the palace. It all makes you feel slightly nauseous to think about. 

Though in fairness, the nausea could be from any number of things. The several courses of rich foods you had to force down over dinner with the Black family, the way Sirius’ eyes seemed to flicker every time they passed over you, the many, many hours of memorization you’d put in only to set your fork on the wrong edge of the plate when you wanted to signal you were finished eating, or perhaps the conversation you had with your grandmother and her council of advisors in her office afterwards. 

All in all, you’re really only waiting to either be violently sick or fall asleep. Whichever comes first. 

A knock on the door makes you sit up slowly. No one usually cares to see you past dinnertime. You wonder for a moment if you’ve misheard, if someone knocked further down the hall and the sound carried. 

Then it comes again. You get up. 

Sirius’ mouth is already half curved when you open the door, but his smile blooms as he takes you in from head to toe. 

“My,” he leans against your doorframe, looking positively delighted, “don’t you look cozy.” 

Your cheeks flame. You hadn’t been expecting any visitors when you’d put on your pajama bottoms and giant, graphic nightshirt. Sirius is also the most casual you’ve seen him in a gray sweatshirt and dark jeans, but he’s still wearing clothes, which means he’s still dressed better than you. You fear this is an inevitability you may never escape with him. 

“I’m having an early night,” you say.  

He frowns. “Oh. Really? What could I do to persuade you not to?” 

You feel your eyebrows rise. “What would you be persuading me to do instead?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Sirius says, looking you in the eyes, “we should go out.” 

You feel acid in the back of your throat. You nearly choke on it. “We—you and me?” 

“I see how that wording could be confusing. I don’t mean like a date,” he clarifies. You let out a breath, and his grin renews. “Not that I would ever deny you one, gorgeous, if that’s what you wanted. But what I had in mind was more of an introduction to the kingdom.” 

Your stomach settles a bit. The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten out much since you’ve been here. Am I wrong?” 

You shake your head. 

Sirius’ smile is almost gentle. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, because I’m not from here and your family rules this place, but I’ve actually been here quite a lot. I could show you around the town, get you acquainted with some worthwhile haunts.” He pauses, analyzing your reaction. “There’s a bakery not far from here that has the most incredible apple pastries this time of year, best I’ve had. They only use seasonal ingredients.” 

There’s an uneasy feeling about this, about him, an allure and a simultaneous urge to run. But you’re intrigued. “The best you’ve had?” 

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “Change quickly. They close at ten.” 

Sirius proves his prowess quickly. He brings you into town off the main road and says a few words to your guards that have them keeping a furtive distance from the both of you. To any passerby along the lamplit streets, you look like a regular couple. Intentionally or not, Sirius’ hand in yours completes the image. 

He pulls you into a coffee shop first, coerces you into trying a specialty latte and promises it won’t matter when you order it decaf. You make it to the bakery just before close, and Sirius orders not only the apple pastries but some with pear and a few with blackberry and one muffin for each of you to have tomorrow morning. He charms everyone behind the counter so effortlessly the owner gives you the muffins for free. 

You end up sitting on the grass at the edge of a park, on a hill sloping downward towards the street. Admittedly, you’ve not put much thought into the kingdom you’re allegedly supposed to run someday. It still feels like some kind of fraudulence to sleep in your bedroom in the palace, and the idea of being a princess to this place doesn’t feel any more real now that you’re seeing it up close. 

But this is a town you could love, you think. It’s the sort of place you might have traveled, before, and imagined your life in. Maybe a job at the bakery, grabbing coffee before your early mornings, indistinguishable from any of the other locals strolling around and chatting with shopkeepers and wearing their footprints into the ground. It’s hard not to imagine it even now, though you know your role in this place is far less quaint.

“Mmmmygod,” Sirius moans, licking sugary apple glaze from the corner of his mouth. “Your palate is not prepared for this. Don’t let it get cold.” 

You fish your apple pastry out of the bag obediently, taking a bite. It’s warm and soft, the dough flattening over your tongue. You close your eyes, and the flavor blooms. 

“Wow.” 

“Right?” He sounds downright gleeful, excited for you in a way that’s out of keeping with the refined, stately way you’re both usually expected to behave. 

“You were right. It’s really good.” You give him a smile and take another bite before putting the pastry away. 

Sirius cocks an eyebrow at you, his expression unabashedly judgemental. “You’re not going to finish it?” 

“Dinner didn’t sit very well with me,” you say apologetically. “You can have the rest, if you want.” 

“Oh.” His countenance melds into something like sympathy. “That’s alright, you can reheat it tomorrow if you like. Are you not feeling well?” 

You press your lips into a smile. “I’m okay.” 

“They’ve been running you pretty ragged, yeah? It must be a lot.” 

“I’m okay,” you say again, softer. 

You think the polite thing would be to at least act like he believes you, but Sirius doesn’t. You can feel his gaze on your face as you look out over the town. He’s been a bit different tonight, you think. Still ridiculous and jovial and loud, but gentler at times. Friendly in a more sincere way. Kind. 

You take a breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

You can practically feel the lift of his eyebrows. “Maybe,” he answers, half humorous. 

“Did you know our families have been trying to arrange our marriage?” 

There’s a thick pause. You watch a couple of the lights in windows go out. 

Sirius’ sigh is heavy. “Honestly? I suspected.”

You turn towards him, your throat tightening with nausea and fright and half a dozen other emotions you haven’t identified yet. Sirius is still looking at you, his mouth twisted in a grimace. 

“My family doesn’t tend to see fit to involve me in these things, even when they pertain to me,” he says somewhat bitterly, “but I know how my parents operate. It’s not rare for us to have visits here, but these last couple since you arrived have involved much more nice-making than usual.” He leans back on his forearms, tilting his face to the sky. For the first time since you’ve met him you think that he looks almost tired. “I suppose us appearing to get along at the ball probably didn’t help matters. They’re always looking for someone who can ‘tame’ me. Now they likely think you’re it.” 

You fight to keep your tone even. “Can they just do that? Make us get married?” 

“Well, clearly it’s not that easy, or we would be.” Sirius seems to be musing aloud. His eyes trace the stars, voice low and thoughtful. “I imagine the holdup is on your side of things. My family would love to be rid of me, but your lot may not want to take me on.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say, but your voice is growing wispy, your vision blurring. 

Sirius sits up. “Hey.” He sounds upset, but his hand on your shoulder is gentle. “Don’t do that. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’ll be okay.” 

“Sorry.” You jam your fingertips into your eyes, trying to keep tears from leaking out. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never felt so…out of control before.” 

Lately, that’s all you’ve felt. Helpless, robbed of your autonomy. You eat and wear and say what you’re told to, you need guards to go out and get pastries, and now the rest of your life is being practically given away to some other kingdom so that your family can rest easy knowing trade agreements are well solidified. 

“I know,” Sirius murmurs. His palm runs a couple inches down your arm, then back up again. It’s the most tentative you’ve seen him. “You’re not, though, really. They can scheme all they want, but nothing has to happen unless both of us get in front of an altar and say ‘I do.’ No one can actually make us go through with it.” 

You lower your hands enough to look at him, and he gives you a sideways smile. 

“I’d be more than happy to be the one to ruin us, if you like. I have a reputation for foiling my parents’ plans anyway. You can even act betrayed. The gracious new princess, and the wayward prince who wouldn’t be bound to her.” 

You worry the inside of your lip. “I wouldn’t want to throw you under the bus.” 

“Sweet of you, doll, but I’m already under there. No sense in taking you with me.” 

He takes another pastry out of the bag, resolved and resigned. You study him. Your life has been nothing but change lately. One terrifying revelation leading to the next, seemingly following a structure you’re not privy to. You haven’t had time to get your feet under you in your new life, constantly being told you’re doing things wrong or getting introduced to new important people or having your manners corrected. This is only your first time getting out into the town where you live! You don’t feel ready to be married. 

But through all the madness of your new life, Sirius has been an odd sort of constant. Kind, and grounding, and casual even when it’s improper. He’s been a real friend to you, the only person who stops to ask how you’re doing and seemingly wants an honest answer. You’ve come to take comfort in him. 

“Do you really think my family is keeping us from…” You find you can’t say it, but Sirius catches your drift anyway. 

“It’s the only explanation I can come up with,” he replies. “Or, not keeping us from it, necessarily, but slowing the process. They’re likely negotiating something to do with the trade agreement, making sure I’m a worthwhile deal for them to take on.” 

“How long does negotiating that stuff take?” 

“I don’t know. Believe it or not, this is actually my first time as well. At least a couple weeks, I’d guess. Your family may want to see how you’re settling in first.” 

You gnaw on your lip, pensive. When you look at Sirius, he’s looking back at you, gray eyes discerning. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks you. 

“What if we didn’t stop it yet?” 

Surprise flickers over his expression, gone as quickly as it came. “I assumed you’d want to be done with this as soon as possible. Why are you asking?” 

You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat. “You’d probably have to be here pretty often while they’re still talking things out, right?” 

“Yeah…” 

“And we’re sort of friends now, aren’t we?” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls up on one side. “I’d love to be your friend, gorgeous.” 

“So…” You pull up a blade of grass, carving it in half with your fingernail. “As long as we don’t say ‘I do,’ we don’t have to be married, but we don’t necessarily have to send you home before they’ve even decided anything, right?”

He leans forward interestedly. “Are you suggesting we let our families go through weeks of pointless negotiations, maybe even humor their beliefs that we like each other, just to break things off when it all comes to a head?”

“Well, we do like each other, don’t we?” You smile, and he beams back. “I don’t know, would that be okay with you?”

“Oh.” Sirius shakes his head at you, still grinning. “Sweetheart, you are even more fun than I imagined you’d be.”

[slytherinshua]

BOY DAD INTAK

genre. fluff. headcanons. non-idol au but music-related/piwon related stuff is still mentioned!! warnings. pregnancy/parent/baby stuff. sooo messy i'm very sorry abt that. not proofread. pairing. husband!intak x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. for @blue-jisungs <33 a/n. i wanted to finish this quickly esp with everything going on just so maybe u have smth to distract urself axe ☹️☹️☹️ i love u so much <33 net. @kstrucknet

When he finds out you’re pregnant he’s honestly so shocked

But a good shocked of course

Safe to say it wasn’t entirely planned sjdksjs 

You’re both still very young but even though it was unexpected Intak is ready to be a dad and super excited for it :( 

He’s the best at taking care of you during your pregnancy 

He always was when you were dating but he takes extra steps to make sure all your needs are met

He will always make sure you have whatever food you’re craving 

Plus he’s down to try the weird combinations as well

More often than not they taste terrible to him while you’re chowing down 

But he finds it endearing 

He’ll watch you eat from across the table with his head rested on his fist and a smile on his face

He keeps track of what meds you should be taking and reminds you when you forget

Although his work can keep him busy sometimes, he’d drop everything for you if you needed it 

He will always always make it to your appointments 

Just because he’s not the one growing the baby doesn’t mean he can skip out on any of the steps— it’s his child as well after all

And he makes sure to always answer his phone and check his texts even if you’re updating him about your day he’ll take the time to text you back 

He doesn’t announce that you’re pregnant to the other members until you’re well along in your second trimester 

But it’s met with excitement from everyone 

Probably a look from Keeho and a throwaway “aren’t y’all still young?”

But he’s over the moon excited to be an uncle trust he’s going to be present in the baby’s life

Theo would gift you all the practical things you could need like diapers, monitors, and bottles 

Once the baby arrives Jiung will probably meal prep some food for both of you (which you are forever grateful for) 

Soul finds the most interesting baby toys on the market but despite Intak’s slight judgemental look when he receives them, you think they’re all great

Jongseob is fully composing lullaby and nursery rhymes, except you’re a little unsure of how easy they are to follow once he throws in complicated rap rhythms 

Keeho’s proud of Intak and excited for you— he knows you’ll be the best parents

But as the leader, he’s also more than eager to help out wherever you need it, especially with cleaning or just little things to help you destress when you need it, mainly during postpartum :’)

Intak is extra clingy while you’re pregnant, especially when your bump starts to show

Even if it’s only been a few days since it was visible, he is all over you

You probably receive a million kisses a day, and trust his arms are always wrapped around your waist, feeling your bump with that proud dad smile on his face

Always says his son is gonna have the coolest dad ever, and you can’t even argue with him because you do think Intak is gonna be the coolest dad ever

And when your son arrives, Intak couldn’t be prouder

Definitely cries holding him for the first time, and is probably very emotional the first couple of days

But he is also your biggest support

He’s doing absolutely everything he can to make sure you can rest after delivery; seriously won’t let you lift even a finger

He shows you off even more than before, he just thinks you’re so incredible and amazing for everything you’re capable of, and how good of a mom you are

He’s more in love with you than ever

Each milestone your son reaches is so important to Intak, from his first smile, to his first word (which he’s proud to say was “dada”), to his first steps and first day of school

Intak is one of those dads who is constantly giving all his friends and family updates about your little ones and sharing cute moments of his son with him

He’s so close with his son, and you’re always happy to see them spending time together

Of course, he’s gonna raise his son right!!

From an early age, he’s always talking to his son about doing things for mom; whether it be cleaning the house cause you had a long day, planning a surprise date cause it’s been a while, or buying you flowers because it’s mother’s day

Doesn’t matter if your son can’t even talk yet, Intak will still be talking about every occasion that is important to you

And they plan all the special things together <3

Dressed up in matching suits for your first mother’s day, and your heart melted :(

Intak includes your son in everything, and they just make the best duo, you couldn’t be happier to have them in your life

Date nights with Intak used to be a super regular thing in your early marriage, but it becomes pretty tricky with a kid to manage

You rely on Intak’s friends to babysit a lot, especially Keeho and Theo who are more than happy to compete for best uncle award

You can usually sneak in at least 3 dates per month amidst your busy schedule <3

Intak is the best person ever to comfort his son and also to give the best advice

He’ll always wipe his tears and assure him whenever he stumbles, especially as a toddler/little kid around 2-6

He’s always telling his son how proud he is of him and how he can do anything he ever wants to and be backed by his dad

As your son grows older, Intak gets a bit more emotional about it

Because he’s not as small and dependent as he used to be :(

Especially at around age 5-6, he’s really getting out of his shell, and Intak feels bittersweet about it

Of course, he’s beyond proud of his son for making new friends and trying out new things by himself with the introduction of school

But he also misses those more quiet days when it was just you two and your baby doing everything together :(

Your son starts to develop some of Intak’s habits, and you find it so cute how he’s becoming a little carbon copy of his dad

They share the same interests and can always be found playing together

Definitely starts enjoying music with his son really early on and is always dancing and singing/rapping with his kiddo <3

And also loves to get into sports with his son and compete (although he’ll almost always let his son win)

You find it incredible how they can stay entertained together for hours

Of course, Intak doesn’t have endless energy like his son does, but he still somehow keeps up just running off of love and pride for his kid

Best boy dad you could ever ask for !!!

↳ p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,, @blossominghunnie,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,,

@gong-fourz,, @forever-atiny

[leahsgirl]

blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

-

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

O.

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

Oh

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

[hxney-lemcn]

The Riddle of Love — Gotham! Edward Nygma x gn! reader

summery: Edward's interest shifts to someone who indulges in his love of riddles.

tw: bullying (?), kristen kringle is a warning all her own in this fic, implied rejection (not really tho, Ed's just awkward).

a/n: I hope so much that I wrote all these characters correctly. I have riddler fever rn and really wanted to write for him, but I've always been scared that I'd write him too ooc. I think I did good tho.

wc: 3.1k

Master List

“What is it that no one wants to have, but no one wants to lose either?” I asked. I already knew it was a lost cause. Edward Nygma was the smartest man I had ever met. Dorky? Yes. Nerdy? Absolutely. Smart? Incredibly. So trying to impress him at his own game wasn’t exactly the smartest move. Yet, the first time I gave him a riddle to solve (which he solved ridiculously fast), I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. So I continued to scour the internet in my free time to try and find obscure riddles. 

Although this riddle wasn’t that obscure. I was running out of riddles to find, and I sure as hell couldn’t make my own. 

“A lawsuit,” Eddie replied without missing a beat, still focusing on testing blood samples. 

I couldn’t stop the pout that formed on my face, “It’s not fair how smart you are.”

I didn’t see Ed’s lips twitch up, how the praise I didn’t think twice about saying impacted him more than he’d like to admit. It was quiet for a few minutes, and I looked back down to the papers I had brought with me. Sometimes, I found myself working in the forensic lab when I could. One of the perks of being a criminal data analyst. I could make my notes on paper, and then just copy them into the computer later. 

Since I was a data analyst, I was in the record archives often. I was acquainted with Kristen Kringle, which obviously led me to Edward Nygma. She would complain about him if I came in after he had left. At that point I didn’t know him, but I also found her complaints unfounded. I’d let her vent, but I’d also speak up for him, which made her glance away in what I assume was guilt. Then there were the unfortunate times that I’d walk in on his awkward flirting. I’d just tensely put away or take the files I needed for my research and leave them to it. 

But after enough times, I’d caught him in the middle of one of his riddles. An easy one, probably to dumb it down for Kringle so she’d be enticed to answer it in the first place. Yet he had caught the attention of the wrong person. Although that didn’t seem to put a damper on his mood. He only sent me a tight lipped smile with a little ‘ding ding ding!’. That’s how I was caught hook line and sinker. His mannerisms were oddly endearing to me, and that’s how our odd little friendship formed. 

I was brought out of my reverie as Eddie shuffled over to his microscope, “I am a nine lettered word and rhyme with perfection; I am another name for love. What am I?”

I blinked, not ready for a riddle, even though I always should be in the presence of him. I looked up from my work, and I noticed how Eddie was sweating, his cheeks flushing a bright red. I tapped the metal table anxiously, the word love had thrown me off my game and my brain felt empty of anything else. I mumbled words under my breath that rhyme with perfection. 

“Deception, reception, perception,” I mumbled, yet none of them fit the rest of the rhyme. The longer I took, the more anxious Eddie seemed to get. “Affection. Oh! The answer is affection!”

Ed cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses, “Y-yes, that is correct. G-good job.” My proud smile fell into a more awkward one, thinking over the implications. That riddle sounded like one he’d save for Kringle. Was he running out of riddles as well? The thought alone was preposterous. It was tense for a bit. And when I realized I had nothing left to do but input the current data I had on some wanna be gang leader. The sad part is I knew that the cops aren’t going to be the first ones who get them. 

Even though I needed to leave, it felt wrong for some reason. To leave the situation after Edward had seemed to admit something in his unique way of sharing. I didn’t want to assume his feelings, yet I knew he also wasn’t one to just state them willingly. Biting my lip anxiously, I decided to just do it. 

Walking over towards Ed’s hunched form, I leaned down to place a light kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see ya later Eddie.” Then I booked it out of the room, leaving behind a very flustered dork. 

It wasn’t much later in the day when Doctor Lee Thompson entered my office. It wasn’t much of an office. The dark walls made the space feel enclosed, and it barely fit my desk and the few cabinets it held. Yet I didn’t mind it since it was a space for myself. Lee, on the other hand, was another acquaintance whose office was nowhere near mine. She’d only come to my office for a few reasons, if it was work related (which was rare since our departments weren’t similar), or if it was personal. Sometimes she fessed that it seemed I needed some company, that it would do me no good to spend all this time alone in my office. Other times…it was on a more personal note, about Eddie and I’s relationship. 

She plopped a candy bar on my desk, a placating move that was all too familiar.

“You must’ve done a real number on Ed,” She smirked, sitting on my desk. Due to the tiny size of the room, and the nature of my job, I didn’t have a seat for guests. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. Deep down, I knew exactly what she meant. I knew Edward was an awkward man, and his experience with flirting was an ultimate zero. Yet it was hard to imagine that he was still affected by a small gesture of affection… Okay maybe the gesture wasn’t that small, for either of us, but still! 

Lee’s smirk widened, “I think you know exactly what. Poor little Ed kept stumbling over his words when I brought you up. Something must’ve happened.”

I unwrapped the candy bar as she spoke, wanting to avoid any thought of the earlier moment. Looking back it was so awkward and a terrible attempt at…what? Flirting? Was that my intention? I didn’t even know my own intentions! 

I took a bite from the candy bar, savoring the sweet flavor before having to explain the painfully awkward memory. When I managed to explain the event, Lee couldn’t stop herself from chuckling, causing me to finish my candy bar with a bitter look. 

“That sounds like something you’d both do,” She smiled.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I huffed, trying to fight off the flush of embarrassment I felt. 

“Nothing,” She sighed wistfully. “But you two really take your time, huh?” 

“Shut up,” I scowled. 

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stop teasing…for now. But seriously, I think you two would be cute together.”

I let out a childish groan, “I get it. Is there anything else you need?” 

“No,” She smiled as she stood up. “Just wanted to see what had Ed all wound up.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart skipped a beat at the implication. As Lee saw herself out, my mind kept racing. What was Ed doing right now? What was he thinking about? Did he really care enough about my opinion, about my affection, that he was still affected by it? I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking mindlessly. Glancing at the time, I scowled as I realized I still had 30 minutes left to my shift. The idea of going home, having a relaxing dinner and then maybe treating myself to a warm bath. 

…

That was only the beginning. It seems that Eddie’s admiration had shifted from Kristin Kringle to me. It was flattering, to say the least. At least to me. Once I gained Ed’s attention, I seemed to have gained his colleagues attention as well. Typically, I didn’t work with the officers, I’d research criminals, then that data would be added to the files. So when I walked past James Gordon and Harvey Bullock, I never thought twice. But when Ed had waved at me, that cute tight lipped smile on his face as I waved back, a smile of my own adorning my face, it drew the attention of the two detectives. 

"Careful Ed,” Harvey mocked. “Don’t wanna scare them off.” Jim only glanced up briefly, not interested in the situation in the least. I watched as Ed’s smile twitched for a second, Harvey’s words seeming to get to him. I felt my smile slip, not liking how they treat him in the slightest.

“He…didn’t do anything wrong,” I shrugged, before waving goodbye, making my way to the record archives. Not only them, but even Kringle was looking at me more than just as a person to vent to. 

“I feel sorry for you,” She stated, adjusting her thick rimmed glasses. Her hazel eyes held their usual air of judgment as she placed some files back in their spots. 

“Why?” I asked, flipping through to find the person I needed. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, raising one of her perfectly maintained eyebrows. “Edward’s got his eyes on another victim.” I frowned, anger bubbling within me at the way she always found new ways to insult him. 

“I wouldn’t describe it like that,” I managed to grit out. “I find the sentiment sweet.”

“Wait,” Kringle paused, turning to look at me with disbelief. “Do you…like him?”

I sighed, finding it hard to focus on the task at hand with this irritating conversation, “Would there be something wrong with that?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird how fast he switched?” She asked, a hint of jealousy in her tone. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he loses interest in you.”

I slammed the cabinet shut in a bout of rage, leaving the room before I do something I may regret…or lose my job over. As I exited, my scowl worsened when I realized I didn’t even get what I needed. 

“Hello!” Edward’s excited voice greeted me as I entered the break room. When my gaze landed on him, I felt my expression soften, my shoulder’s relaxing. His brown eyes were so expressive, that silly smile on his face never failed to melt my heart. 

“Hey,” I muttered back. Looking over the options in the vending machine. Just get something to eat, and hopefully I’ll feel better. 

“Is…something the matter?” He asked, fidgeting with his glasses. I let out a long sigh as I sat across from him at one of the few tables. 

Taking a bite of my snack, I took some time to gather my thoughts and feelings, “Sometimes I just hate people.”

His eyebrows raised, nervously fidgeting with his tie, “Th-that’s…understandable.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, finally cooling down. “Someone was just saying some really mean things and it got to me.”

Edwards’ demeanor changed in an instant, a frown replacing his smile, and his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concern and anger, “Who?”

I blinked, “What?”

“Who insulted you?” He asked, fists clenched. This wasn’t what I was expecting. He would get annoyed, yeah, but he’d always just stew in it until he calmed down. And he was barely angry when I was around, which was something I was proud of. So seeing him react so harshly was unusual. It made me feel a bit appreciated, that he cared enough to get this angry over it, yet it was also unsettling.

“They…they were insulting you,” I clarified, rubbing my arm awkwardly. “And trust me, I was ready to do some things that would’ve gotten me fired.”

Ed blinked, calming down drastically at the revelation, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I swear if she says one more damned thing about you I’m gonna…” I strangled the air, the only way I could express how frustrated her insults made me.

Edward fake coughed, his cheeks tinged a light pink, “I assume you mean Miss Kringle.”

I paused, hoping it didn’t hurt that his past interest was still as rude as ever. “I didn’t even manage to get the files I needed,” I grumbled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“...I can get them for you,” I felt my heart crack. Was he still interested in her? Was that why he was so ready to go into the den of the woman who so readily insults him? 

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” I shook my head. “I’ll just have Lee do it.”

Ed blinked, seeming to think over something before standing up, “I’ll be right back.” Before he was fully out the door he paused, “Whose case files did you need?”

I couldn’t help the tiny grin at how eager he was as I gave him the names of the people I needed files on. Yet that smile fell. Was he really so excited to get a chance to see Kringle that he almost left without knowing what files he needed? I finished my snack, getting a drink from the vending machine while I was at it. My mind continued to make up terrible scenarios that could be happening at that moment. How she could manage to crush Ed’s precious heart even more than she’s already managed to.

Ed was back quicker than I realized. It took him less than ten minutes! He set the files I needed on the table, that tight lipped grin on his face as he waited for my input.

“Oh! Thank you!” I thanked, flipping through the files to make sure they were all there. “She didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

“No,” He replied simply. As I met his gaze, that’s when I finally realized that he was truly over Kringle. I should’ve felt disturbed at how intense his gaze was, at how strong his emotions seemed to be when he wasn’t even trying. Yet I only felt flattered, important, and wanted. Emotions I wasn’t completely used to, and caused my heart to stutter at how strong my own emotions were becoming. 

Standing up, I leaned in and kissed his cheek again, this time a bit more confident then the last time I did. I waved goodbye as I walked out with the files he gave me. I felt pride swell within me as I watched Eddie become a flustered mess as I left. It was a good mood lifter as I watched him fumble with his usual nervous ticks, before he was finally out of my sight. 

…

Edward’s courting tactics only seemed to grow after that. I wasn’t sure what changed him to do so. I could only speculate that Lee had something to do with it. She kept stopping by my office, asking how Ed and I were doing like she hadn’t just seen us the day before. I can’t lie, I was reveling in the attention that Ed was giving me, and I could tell he’d revel in my attention as well. A mutual pining on both sides. 

Normally, I’d be okay with that. Too scared to try and push things forward. Edward Nygma was different. He was just so…amazing. I’ve never felt so strongly towards someone. He was sweet, attentive, smart, and overall lovely. I couldn’t just settle for pining, I wanted to experience what it would be like as his lover. 

Which led me to this horrendous mess up of a confession.

I dressed up a bit nicer than usual, hoping to impress the cute dork. I felt confident in myself, an emotion I don’t feel regularly. I greeted Lee, who seemed like she guessed the occasion and sent me a wink when I walked past. 

“Hey Eddie,” I greeted, setting a cup of coffee down on the counter.

“Oh! Hello,” He greeted me, smiling. “You seem chipper this morning.”

Nudging the coffee towards him I smiled back, “It’s a good day today. I got you a coffee.”

“You didn’t need to,” Ed replied sheepishly, not used to people giving him things. 

I only shrugged, “I wanted to.” I tapped the counter I was leaning on as nerves started to slowly creep through me. So, before my anxiety could get the best of me, I blurted out, “What is mine but only you can have?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Ed actually paused to answer a riddle for the first time during this little game we had. His eyes flitted around the room, like he was trying to avoid the answer. I know he was smart enough to figure it out, so the fact he was taking so long to answer caused my heart rate to spike from anxiety. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I was reading the room wrong. I blame Lee for feeding me a wrong understanding. 

“I…uh…” Ed stuttered over his words, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Shit, shit, shit! I shouldn’t have said that. He does know the answer, I found it online easily, he obviously knows. He doesn’t feel the same and now he’s trying to find a way to politely reject me. 

“Nevermind!” I exclaimed, trying to quell my nerves by getting the fuck out of here. “Stupid riddle! Never needs an answer. I should get to work.”

“W-wait!” Eddie called out, making me stop in my tracks. So close yet so far. “I can be a fruit, I can be on a calendar, I can be important, and I can be forgotten. What am I?”

Turning back around, I watched as Eddie picked at his nails. We both seemed like complete messes at the moment. It was hard for me to think of anything due to my previous failure of admitting my feelings. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying to stop myself from making any more of a fool of myself.

“I…I’m not sure Eddie,” I chuckled solemnly.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses before admitting, “A date. W-would you accompany me on one?” I stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“Y-yeah! Of course I will!” That tinge of embarrassment was quickly overpowered by exhilaration. The smile that stretched across my face almost hurt with how big it was. Eddie’s smile was also wide as he still couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Is…is tonight okay? Dinner? 7 o’clock?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

And to make the moment better, I kissed his cheek before parting, excited for what the night held for us.

[beesmygod]

we can all look back on and laugh at this when im wrong, but it seems like social media in its current incarnation is dying an undignified and overdue death. it turns out throwing all of humanity into one room and expecting everyone to develop a single ethos was beyond insane conceptually and the artists who built their following on social media are probably in a tail spin right now. people jumping to bluesky are insane lol. did you forget jack dorsey is the idiot who got us into this mess in the first place. why would you choose to subject yourself to this shit again. for what purpose?

the stock answer i got was that "for discoverability/audience" and if that's true thats a problem. i've been hollerin about this to anyone who would listen prior to this but the customer base of twitter (and all social media) is its advertisers. they have not been shy from the start about that fact because its the only way they generate income, as far as i know. YOU (the user) are the product. YOU (still the user) are also what draws people to the site. there is not a social media website on earth that has figured out that making a good website (which would require hiring and paying for quality labor over an extended period of time) is more likely to result in economic success than exclusively courting the businesses whose interest is in making the website worse to use with ads. at no point were our interests ever a factor.

in fact, imo, the number of people following you is not an accurate representational sample of your audience. the reasonable assumption you should make is that the vast majority of numbers involved with any website (esp those with a vested interest in showing off big numbers to VC investors or advertising execs) are inflated or just outright fake. the numbers exist solely to drive you insane and make awful people happy. the numbers cause you and everyone around you to start spontaneously spawning myths about a beast called "the algorithm" that possesses the incredible traits of being both something you can game for success or blame for your failures. it coerces you into enacting out nonsense superstitions to try to counteract or appease it in the hopes of, let's be honest, breaking it big and going viral. this way, you, the creator, do not have to do the hard work of building up a rapport with an audience. none of this goes anything but adds more numbers for the ceos to look at and nod approvingly or disapprovingly at.

the people running the world today are, without exaggeration, cartoon villains. they are deeply stupid, devoid of empathy, and open about their intent to do deeply evil acts in order to further their economic interests. trying to derive some kind of financial benefit from the creations of these unapologetic losers was always bound to be a wasted effort. the best thing i can say about twitter, a website i was banned from countless times and returned to out of stubborn desire, was that i got to make some great jokes with friends and cause some chaos lol. letting people know i have a web comic was always a secondary function once the realization of what social media was turning out to be set in like 7 years ago. any artist who insists that you have to do this or that on this or that social media site is trying to drag you down into the quagmire of online numbers poisoning.

run away!!! children heed my advice!!! the joy of creation does not lie on a path that encourages you to cater to the lowest common denominators while casting your net. just fucking have fun with it. if its not fun then it wont even be fun to do financially anyway. and isnt that, like. the point.

[onceonafullmoon]

could i pleaseee request some sendou x reader hcs?

Okay, just to be clear about this and get it out of the way, you do not need to be a hollywood actress to bag Sendou 

He is actually such a pathetic man and he would literally have his knees go weak if any attractive person looked at him (which you, dear reader, are)

So rest assured, do not worry about that

You’d probably meet him by chance actually, like a romance novel cliche where you accidentally bump into each other and he goes to help you gather your things

Only when he finally looks up at you and you make eye contact, both of you freeze

Him because as I mentioned before, attractive person, and you because, well, you’re a pretty big football fan

You excitedly tell him about what a big fan you are while he stares at you dumb struck, and it's only after he’s given you his autograph and you’ve walked away that he realizes that he probably should have asked for your number

Well damn, he’ll probably never see you again

At least that’s what he thinks before he sees your familiar face in a cafe and a spark of hope shoots through him 

In his head, he’s really suave about walking over to you and easily seducing you.

He’s actually a complete fucking mess when he talks to you, stuttering slightly over his words and his body language awkward, but you either choose to ignore it or simply don’t notice and chat with him excitedly about how hyped you are for the upcoming season

But eventually, somehow, someway, he manages to get himself to ask for your number

And of course, flattered, you give him it and he leaves that cafe almost floating from how light he feels (though he’d never admit that to anyone)

You start texting each other pretty regularly after that, and he finds that it’s much easier to hit on you through text when he doesn’t see your face and get flustered

At least that’s what he thinks before you start flirting back, and then he’s back to square one

(The first time you flirted back he stopped responding for a solid 10 minutes because he was so flustered.)

Anyways as time goes on he gets a little more relaxed around you, even managing a few meetings with you before the season starts

And you’ll find that after you get through his faux arrogance, and after that his nervousness, that he’s actually a pretty determined person working hard for his goals. And you can’t help but find that admirable.

Then the season starts and you find that you guys don’t have as much time to talk, but you still manage to stay in touch

He texts you after practice and on breaks most definitely, earning some teasing from Aiku who pokes fun at him for being “whipped”

The whole team joins in actually, praising their star Ace for finding someone, Sendou wants to die

It’s after the season ends where he finally asks you out, and his whole team ends up helping in his endeavor

To clarify, he did not want them to help, they came to help anyways

And after a series of very close calls and near fuck ups on your outing, he eventually just blurts out that he’s interested in being your boyfriend

And that’s how you start dating

As a lover, he can be incredibly sweet with how he watches you with stars in his eyes when you do almost anything

Don’t ever ask this man for fashion advice though, because he’ll literally drop to his knees if you wear anything (or nothing)

You also learn that he can be a bit of a whiny brat at times too

ex. Whenever you have to leave to do something, he’ll whine about it, he always needs to be the little spoon, and complains loudly when you ignore him after an argument

He’s also a sucker for praise, so if you compliment him he’ll try to play it all cool but he visibly lights up

Don’t praise him too much though, he’s got a bad habit of getting cocky

He’s also super clingy and has a thing for laying his head in your lap and letting you run your fingers through his hair

All in all, he’s a very pathetic man (endearingly so!) and he’d do anything for your attention and praise despite putting on the front of being an arrogant ass

[moutainrusing]

labels

“Guys! I’m gay!” Sirius announced to their dormitory.

“Awesome!” James grinned.

“He means homosexual, not just happy, by the way,” Peter side-eyed James.

“Oh! Then double awesome! You’re happy and homosexual!”

“Hell yeah!” Sirius pumped his fists in the air, glancing at Remus, which Remus pretended not to see, even though he could see everything perfectly well in his peripheral vision. He glared intensely at the pages of his book, refusing to engage, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, like he was trapped, and the room was a cage, closing in on him, forcing him to adhere to certain labels, fixed ways of defining himself… “Got a problem, Moony?” Sirius snapped.

“No.” Remus didn’t look up. “Good for you. Any boy caught your eye?”

He could feel Sirius’s glare drilling holes into him. “What, would it disgust you if that were true?”

“No.”

“Then look the fuck up.”

“Pads,” James started, looking increasingly worried. Peter was picking at his cuticles, shuffling behind James as if the boy were a shield from whatever explosion was occurring between Remus and Sirius. “Pads, just calm—”

“You want me to calm down?!” Sirius directed his glare at James. “What, so you don’t care that Remus is being fucking unreasonable?”

“I do, and I’ll deal with him—”

Sirius cut James off, facing Remus with a scowl, “I accepted you for being a werewolf, didn’t I?”

That stung. Remus blinked and looked up, face blank. “Yeah.” He spoke fast, to avoid Sirius interrupting. “But I shouldn’t have to accept anyone for their sexuality, people should just be, it shouldn’t be something to announce and accept, because it’s always there, it’s a fact, and it is good for you, but it’s nothing unordinary. It’s just another human thing.” Remus took a breath.

Sirius’s scowl faded, but his face was still guarded. “Hate to break it to you, but we live in a heteronormative and homophobic society. I have to announce it, and you have to accept it.”

Remus swallowed. “But society wouldn’t be like that if you acted like it was normal. Because it is normal. Any sexual orientation is normal. So if everyone behaved like that, society would automatically go along with it.” He shrugged. Could he go back to his book now?

“And how do you plan to do that?” Sirius pressed, arms crossed.

Remus blinked. So it was his responsibility now? Fine. It was probably everyone’s. And he’d never needed to announce his sexuality. It was just a normal part of him. It made him feel more human, even with a wolf raging inside him. “Well…” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “I… have a crush on a boy. And I think that’s normal.” Remus admitted.

Sirius’s eyes widened, “You’re gay?! Who is it?!” Even James and Peter looked on in interest.

Remus winced. The first answer was, No, please don’t label me, and the second was YOU. “Uh… I don’t know, and… I don’t want to tell you.” Not exactly lies, right?

“Okay, firstly, that’s okay, we’ll help you figure out your identity,” Sirius started.

I know my identity already, Remus wanted to scream frustratedly. I’m Remus Lupin, and that’s all that matters. I’m who I am. But he just nodded half-heartedly.

“And secondly, I think I know who it is,” Sirius’s eyes glinted, and Remus braced himself for the worst. “It’s Caradoc Dearborn!”

“Merlin’s whacky beard, yes!” James agreed. “Do you like him, Moony?”

Remus smiled awkwardly, mouth twisted with confusion. “What? No, not him.”

“You’re lying!” Sirius protested, dramatically pointing at him.

James nodded, “He’s like, the only boy you ever talk to.” Remus also talked to Sirius, James and Peter. But okay. “And you’re always smiling with him, and talking about your hobbies together—”

“Picture of love!” Sirius interrupted, grin unnaturally stretched.

“I don’t like him,” Remus reinforced.

“Oh, I see,” Sirius carried on grinning maniacally. He held a fist beneath his lips, imitating the way Quidditch was commentated, “Remus Lupin’s holding the lie, zooming across the pitch, dodging and swerving like the athletic acrobat he is.” Remus shot this a withering look, while Sirius winked, “He gets to the goalposts, where he prepares himself to shoot. He brings the lie into one calloused, veiny hand—”

“Sirius, what the fuck,” Remus deadpanned.

Sirius waved him off, “And he throws it! It goes up and up and it soars through a goalpost! It’s a lie!! Remus Lupin shoots, he scores, and it’s a lie!! The crowd goes wild!!” James and Peter began cheering demonstratively.

“REMUS AND CARADOC!” James yelled.

“Caramus,” Peter nodded sagely.

“Redoc,” James countered.

“Moonlove,” Peter said, explaining, “Caradoc means love.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” James cooed.

“What?” Sirius looked conflicted. “It does? Oh.” He turned to Remus. “Well, I’m sure he’ll give you all the love you deserve, Moonbeam.”

Remus threw his hands up, “I don’t want love from him!”

“Looks like Remus Lupin has scored again!!” Sirius responded. “What’s the verdict?”

“It’s another lie!!” James cried.

Remus sighed. If Sirius was so adamant about his crush on Caradoc, then he wouldn’t ever reciprocate Remus’s feelings. He wanted to ship Remus off with Caradoc, because apparently that was perfect, never him and Sirius. Sirius didn’t want him. He just gave him to Caradoc. “Okay,” Remus exhaled. “Yes, it’s Caradoc.” Now, that was a lie.

His friends grinned, and began planning ways for him to get with Caradoc. Remus went back to his book. But he still wasn’t focused on the pages, because he could only think of Sirius’s metaphor. But now Sirius was on the broom, holding Remus’s heart in his hands, swerving and dodging and abruptly veering, shaking it, sending his emotions haywire. Sirius had an inescapable grip on the weak, enamoured organ, squeezing the life out of it as it still thumped a mile a minute for him, like the hopeless, lost little thing it was.

Sirius would take him, shoot him through a goalpost, and score, and Remus was forever his. Sirius didn’t even need to shoot, Remus was already his, he had already scored a Remus, and that probably wasn’t his grandest victory, but now Remus was lost, and hopeless, and Sirius’s.

He sighed, tuning back into the conversation.

“And at their wedding,” James was saying.

“What?!” Remus interrupted. “Guys, no. I’m not even gonna date him!”

“What, why?” James asked, looking offended, as if it was him Remus had rudely rejected.

“I just…” Remus lamely waved a hand, “Like pining from afar. I like… admiring him. I don’t actually want to be his… boyfriend.” Remus did not want that label.

Sirius laughed, “C’mon, Moony, that’s never true.”

“No, it really is. And now I’m going to bed. Goodnight, boys.”

Remus heard Peter hurriedly yell, “Night, Moony!” before closing his curtains and throwing himself flat on his mattress.

Although he couldn’t sleep, so after waiting for the lights to go out, and the sounds of his friends’ snores, he opened his curtains and crept to the cramped stone balcony, with a pack of Muggle cigarettes in hand. He lit one and brought it to his lips, exhaling smoke over the grounds below, draped in darkness and moonlight.

He tensed, sensing movement in someone’s bed. Sirius’s. The opening of curtains, the tip-toeing of feet towards him… “Hi, Sirius.”

“Damn it. You’re like one of those Muggle superheroes in them comics.”

“Werewolf.”

“So I was close!”

Remus gave him a flat look as he squashed in beside him.

Sirius grinned. “What’s up?”

“You.” Remus rolled his eyes while Sirius blinked in confusion. “You’re up in the sky,” he pointed. “Sirius.” And there it was, burning an intense white as it beaconed slowly.

“Oh.” Sirius looked up. “I meant, what’s on your mind?”

Also you, Remus thought, glancing at the side of Sirius’s face as he took another drag. The way his grey eyes reflected the glow of the stars, and seemed to emit their own brilliant light, the heat melting them into a shining silver. He wordlessly offered the stick to Sirius, who held the illicit item elegantly between two slender fingers, and took his own drag. Remus stopped looking, turned and blew the smoke trapped in his throat into rings.

“Superhero,” Sirius exhaled softly.

Remus gave him another flat look, met with the same brazen grin. He looked away. But even then, he kept glancing back fleetingly because it was Sirius, whose warm body was pressed into his own, and they were smoking into the night, and it was Remus and Sirius, one of the only things Remus truly wanted.

But then another person was added, one Remus did not want, when Sirius asked, “Is it Caradoc?”

“What’s Caradoc?”

“On your mind.”

“No. Drop it.”

“You said you wanted society to know that all sexualities are normal. So why wouldn’t you show them by asking your crush out?” Sirius nudged into him even closer. Too close. Remus was going to fall. He was falling. And Sirius didn’t even realise. Didn’t even care.

“It’s also normal to have a crush on someone and not want to date them. So I’m showing you that.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well…” Remus looked at Sirius. “I look at him, and I think that I’m just lucky to be near him. That’s all I really want. I just want to spend time with him. I don’t want all those finicky labels. I want to be.”

“But don’t you want to do all that couple stuff and be exclusive?”

Remus shrugged. “I’ll do whatever we both want. So if we want to do couple stuff, why can’t we do it anyway? And if we want to be exclusive, then we’ll only do that stuff with each other. It’s not a big deal.”

Sirius nodded, brows still furrowed. This was hard to explain. But no one would want to do those things with Remus anyway, so why was he trying? And the only person he wanted to do those things with was next to him, insisting that he had to have a crush on someone else. Finally, Sirius said, “You sound like you really love him.”

Remus swallowed, because yes, he did really love Sirius, not Caradoc, not anyone else. But for some fucking reason (Sirius), they were talking about Caradoc. And for some reason, he was just continuing the lie. He was going to need to make notes, otherwise he’d lose track of everything he supposedly felt for Caradoc. He shrugged in response to Sirius’s statement.

Sirius gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Are you confused about loving him because you still don’t know your identity?”

Remus tensed beneath Sirius’s hand, which was immediately withdrawn. “No.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m only trying to help!”

“Well, stop it.”

“I don’t get it. Do you have a problem with people knowing you’re not straight?”

Remus shot him a withering look. “No.” Because he didn’t like that label either. “I’m not anything, just drop it.”

“You are something, don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

“I know. Except I’m not.”

“Bisexual.”

“Sirius, fuck off.”

“Look, it’s human, like you said. Normal to like any other human, or to not like any other human, regardless of their gender.”

“Normal to like another human as long as they’re not related to you,” Remus said pointedly.

Sirius laughed. “Tell that to the Blacks.”

“I told one of them.”

“I’m offended. I would never stoop that low.”

“How low would you stoop?”

“Mmm, not that low. Just enough to suck someone’s cock.” Sirius grinned. He pointedly added, “Someone who’s not my relative.”

Remus laughed.

But then Sirius asked, “Why don’t we look for more labels?”

“I said no.”

“We can find one that suits you.”

“None of them will suit me.”

“Don’t be a pessimist.”

“I’m not being anything.”

“Marlene knows a lot about sexualities,” Sirius was saying. Remus tuned him out. They were going in circles. He didn’t know how to explain himself. They’d reached stalemate, where neither of them had convinced the other, but they were adamant on their fixed positions. Fixed. Remus didn’t like that.

“Sirius, I don’t want a fucking label. Shut the fuck up.”

Sirius looked affronted. “Look, what’s your problem?”

“I fucking told you.”

“You were literally the one who said all this should be normalised! So what’s this hypocritical bullshit?”

“I’m not being a hypocrite. I told you, I like a boy.”

“That’s gay.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

“What the fuck are you on? Are you really that scared of the word ‘gay’? Because that’s what I am. Me. So do you not fucking like me now?”

“I like you, Padfoot. I like you for being a fucking spoilt brat and an arrogant dickhead and a cruel little tosser. For your fucking personality, arsehole. You being gay doesn’t matter to me. It’s not your personality. How does ‘I like boys’, equate to the things that make you Sirius? Anyone could like boys! Only you can be Sirius. And I do like Sirius.”

Sirius was staring at him. “You like those things about me?”

“Oh, ‘course you fixated on that. Well, I was trying to insult you, but I suppose, yes. I also like the good stuff about you.”

“Can’t be much of that.”

“Oh, do you want the list?”

Sirius smiled. “You have a list?”

“Sod off, I don’t have anything written down.” It was all ingrained into his brain instead.

Sirius hummed. “I think I know something.”

“Those are two things I never expected of you. Thinking and knowing. This must be a record.”

“Mate, shut up. I think… you are Remus.”

“Wow. Do you want applause?”

“No, as in, that’s all you identify as. You don’t need anything else. You’re perfect and clever, and your whole personality. And your sexuality doesn’t matter to you. Am I right, or…”

Remus’s chest felt lighter. “I… Pads, I’m not perfect, or clever, but yeah, the rest was true, I think. I just… I think society would be better if there were no labels at all. Then everything would be normal. You’d be able to like anyone. I don’t like the labels. They feel… uncomfortable. And unnecessary. Just let me like who I like, for fuck’s sake. Why do I have to turn my feelings into a label that has to be accepted?”

Sirius smiled. “Don’t then.” He paused, and whispered teasingly, “Would you like me to find a label for people who don’t want to be labelled?”

Remus laughed. “Actually, Padfoot, could you like… tell me why you like being labelled so much?”

Sirius grinned. “‘Cause I like making wild announcements. And I know it’s not my personality, but it’s still an aspect of me that I’d like to acknowledge. I want everything out in the open. And being gay helps me explain that. But now I know that it’s also normal to not need to explain that.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Remember, it’s not something anyone should have to accept.”

Remus beamed at him. Sirius returned it, jokingly murmuring, “That’s my Moonbeam.”

Remus stared at him, before realising, “I never asked why you’re up.”

“For you, obviously.”

Remus felt a surge of affection for him, so strong that he couldn’t contain it. “Sirius, I’m not lying. I really don’t have a crush on Caradoc.”

“But—”

“I was describing how I felt for a different boy. And I’m sorry for agreeing that I liked Caradoc, but you were all so insistent—”

“Who is it?”

“I…”

“Who else can it be if not Dearborn?”

“Sirius,” Remus started, realising that he had also just stated the answer.

Sirius didn’t seem to catch on. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Oh. You have a crush?”

“We’ve established that. Who’s yours?”

“Sirius,” Remus said again, wondering when the boy would get it.

“Moony, just tell me.”

“I am telling you, Sirius.”

Sirius furrowed his brows. “When?”

“Just now.”

“I still don’t know who it is.”

“Sirius,” Remus was barely containing his laugh. Honestly, despite the fact that he would get rejected, this was the funniest way to reveal his crush, and he really didn’t care. Sirius was getting so annoyed.

“For fuck’s sake, who is it?!”

“Sirius.”

“What?!”

“I’m answering your question, dumbass.”

“Don’t call me dumbass, since when did you answer the question?”

“Been answering it for ages, Sirius.”

“Wait. Hold on. Wait.”

“Yes, it’s kind of hard not to wait when you’re trapping me on this balcony.”

“How are you still being snarky?! You just admitted to me that you like me! Every time I want to admit I like you, I get all nervous and shit! How are you so calm?!”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I like you.”

“…Thanks? Does this mean we’re still friends?”

“Yes. But do you also want to do all that couple shit with me? And would you agree to be exclusive with me? And can me and you just be?”

“…It’s you and I.”

“Swot. You’re lucky I like you. And I think I’ve just made you lose your cool,” Sirius grinned excitedly.

“Yes,” Remus was still processing.

“I’ll make it clearer. Can I snog you? And from now on, can we only snog each other?”

“Yes.” And then Remus Lupin was snogging Sirius Black. And that was who they were.

[txttletale]

My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.