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vashtijoy · 4 months

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terms of address: maruki

I was asked how the squad refer to Maruki, so here goes.

first, the normies

Many of the cast refer to Maruki exclusively as "Dr. Maruki": 丸喜先生 Maruki-sensei. These mentions are universally in kanji.

Ann has 41 of these, and often uses sensei by itself;

Haru has 26 of these, and uses sensei alone a couple of times, during Maruki's Palace;

Makoto has 27 of these. She uses sensei alone quite often;

Yoshizawa has 41 of these total, 14 as Kasumi and 27 as Sumire. She calls Maruki just sensei often.

Noticing anything? Yeah: they're all the girls. These particular characters consistently seem to have relatively colourless and unmarked speech. This may in itself, of course, be a form of marking, since expectations around gendered speech in Japan can be so strong.

the relatively boring

Ren appears to always use "Maruki", apart from one instance very early on when an option, "Ask about the counsellor", includes Maruki-sensei. He also always uses kanji; protagonists don't have to be polite.

He calls Maruki sensei alone once, during his confidant. Kawakami gets it more often, while Takemi gets it constantly.

slightly more edgy

While Futaba always uses "Dr. Maruki", she slurs it a little, making it slangier: 丸喜せんせー Maruki-sensee. She always uses kanji for "Maruki", except in the text chat after he visits Shujin, where she's only heard his name spoken!—which is a cute detail. Occasionally she uses せんせー sensee by itself, which is distinct from her 先生 sensei meaning "a teacher".

Ryuji, again, virtually always makes it "Dr. Maruki", usually Maruki-sensei in kanji; a few mentions very early on, when they're still talking about the new counsellor guy, are just straight "Maruki". Also, in his counselling session, Ryuji almost just calls him that!—ultimately deciding to make it "Dr. Maruki":

Ryuji なあ、丸喜⋯センセーってよ、よく『変わってる』って言われね? naa, maruki... sensee tte yo, yoku "kawatteru" tte iwarene? Hey, Dr. Maru— ah, I mean, Doc. Anyone ever tell you you're kinda… not normal?

The meaning is a little lost in translation here, with Ryuji cutting from the normal form of address to a nickname. Also, in Maruki's Palace, he recognises Maruki on one of the videotapes, and starts off in hiragana before finishing in kanji. It feels a bit as if he isn't initially sure what he's seeing:

Ryuji まるき… 丸喜先生？ maruki... maruki-sensei? Maruki... Dr. Maruki?

He uses sensei by itself a couple of times, far fewer than you might expect; his "Doc" is usually either glossed in, or was originally Maruki-sensei, "Dr. Maruki".

He also uses 大先生 daisensei, "great leader/teacher/artist" etc, as a term of abuse, aimed at palace bosses such as Shido and Madarame. 獅童大先生 shidou-daisensei—"that stuck-up bastard Shido!".

the slightly outlandish...

Morgana overwhelmingly uses katakana for names, and Maruki is no exception. He talks about him a lot, always in katakana, as マルキ Maruki. He never uses any honorifics for him.

He has only one use of kanji, 丸喜 Maruki, in "will you meet with this confidant?" text, around I think rank 5, which looks like it may be a slip.

the strangely polite...

Akechi, of course, fails to grace Maruki with his title of "doctor"; he's just plain "Maruki". The localisation sometimes makes it "Dr. Maruki", but that's a gloss; Akechi never once uses sensei (or any other honorific) about him.

But he uses an honorific to Maruki, once:

That "isn't that right" is ですよね desu yo ne, which might seem startlingly polite for third semester Akechi. In fact, he's rather consistent about his masu forms to Maruki—and only to Maruki—during the third semester.

He has no uses of desu or -masu/-masen, for instance, to anyone else in the third semester. It's actually rather cute, because it makes it clear a number of his lines in the 1/2 and 1/9 Palace are directed not to Ren or Yoshizawa, as it might seem, but to Maruki.

So this looks like a sardonic little aside, and I'm sure there's a lot of that in it—"Maruki-san". But this is also the only time Akechi ever addresses Maruki by name. And since he has all these desu and -masu forms going on around Maruki, then maybe he just calls him Maruki-san, full stop.

Did I mention he's a weird boy?

...and the downright weird

That leaves us with Yusuke, who (as nobody will be surprised to hear) does his own thing that raises some fascinating possibilities.

Yusuke only appears to address Maruki by name once, when they first meet in the courtyard, and as you'd expect, he calls him sensei—丸喜拓人先生 Maruki Takuto-sensei, "You are Dr. Takuto Maruki, correct?".

But every other time Yusuke uses sensei in the script? He's referring not to Maruki, of course, but to his sensei, Madarame. That initial approach to Maruki, stranger to stranger, face to face, is the only time he uses it to anyone else.

So what does Yusuke call Maruki? He calls him 丸喜氏 Maruki-shi.

what is shi

氏 shi is a very formal and exclusively third-person term, usually seen in writing, or heard from newsreaders. It's often translated "Mr X", which can be very odd to hear in media that retains honorifics like -san and -kun; "Mr. Akechi's coming on!" is an example, from 6/10. And Akechi is, in fact, usually mentioned as Akechi-shi on the evening news.

Yusuke's Maruki-shi is universally translated as "Dr. Maruki", as if he'd just said Maruki-sensei like everyone else. Which is a little bit of a shame.

Yusuke also uses shi for one other person—the art patron Kawanabe, in his confidant, before you meet up at the sushi bar. Most of the rest of the time, before and after, Yusuke just calls Kawanabe "Kawanabe" in third-person, with no title; he pulls out a Kawanabe-san at rank 10, after he's won the contest—face to face, of course, since shi is only third-person.

On the other hand, Yusuke never mentions Maruki at all without a title.

the other time yusuke uses sensei

Okay, I lied: Yusuke has one other instance of Maruki-sensei. This, like Morgana's single lapse into kanji, is in prompt text: "Are we going to Maruki's Palace today?" Again, I think this is likely an error.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.0 (2023/12/29)—first posted.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #p5 reference #japanese language #p5 terms of address #takuto maruki #yusuke kitagawa #goro akechi #ryuji sakamoto #the squad

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kastelixa · 7 months

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ Pain Breaks The Rhythm

title from pain by Boy Harsher

summary: Leon overstimulating you basically.

cw: reader has fem body parts and is referred to as she/her, smut, overstimulation, praise/degradation, crying during sex, Leon’s a little mean, straight up porn no plot lol

wc: 1,486

note: The Leon I had in mind for this was vendetta or death island Leon, but imagine whoever you’d like! Also, little warning methinks? But this is my FIRST smut so pleaseee take that into consideration lol.

Your eyes flutter shut, tears dripping down your jawline, skin heated and flushed. Everything is fuzzy, and your brain feels like mush.

Really, you don’t know how much more you can take. Has been it hours now? God, it feels like it. Your pussy feels numb, and you swear you can feel your heart beat in your clit.

“Leon,” you mewl, tongue heavy in your mouth, barley able to string together a coherent sentence. Though, at least it’s somewhat audible. “Leon— I can’t, please, s’too much.” the whine that leaves your swollen lips right after is downright pathetic, but you can’t help yourself.

Leon chuckles meanly, a smirk playing on his lips. He knows what he’s doing, of course he does. His thumb keeps on with that same firm circular motion on your pudgy clit, merciless and relentless. “Awe, poor thing,” he murmurs in feigned sympathy.

His muscles flex and bulge with each movement of his wrist, arm tirelessly working along with it to bring you to another mind-breaking climax.

Again, he knows what he’s doing. His hips move slowly, cock pumping into you like its been doing for the past hour. Slow, painfully slow. Slow enough to keep your brain fuzzy until he abruptly rolls his hips upwards sharply, eliciting a yelp from you.

“no, noo don’t do that, s’mean, please—“

Leon shushes you with his lips, cooing at you soothingly— only to make that same movement again, and again, and again. “Leonnn…” you whine, newfound tears welling up and spilling over.

“Shhh, baby,” he chuckles, “I got you. Besides, you can handle a few more, no?” he cocks his head to the side, tauntingly raising an eyebrow. His freehand moves upwards, index finger and thumb clamping onto a nipple and pinching.

You whimper, tongue lolling out while you softly panted. Eyes squeezing shut, you mewl in protest, body wriggling upwards in a pitiful attempt to escape the overstimulation. “noo, can’t, s’too much, can’t cum no more—“

A sharp slap is suddenly heard, and you squeak in surprise, hips jerking upwards at the sudden strike your cunt received. Leon gazes down at you expectantly, eyes narrowed, daring you to defy him. “m’sorry, didn’t mean to, promise. I’ll be good.”

Leon subtly smiles upon hearing your slurred apologies and pleads, his cold expression softening slightly. “There’s my good girl,” he coos, his freehand continuing to play with your pert nipples roughly while the other one toys with your clit, touch careless yet precise.

He tweaks one bud and then moves onto the other one, tugging and pinching instead. You whimper, each touch feels like electricity being sent straight to your clit. More slick leaks from your cunt, more than ever.

By now, even unable to think clearly, you know there’s a mess on the bed. A large stain that would surely take hours to clean out, the once light grey sheets now dark and moist with cum and juices. And it’s mostly your fluids.

It’s a thought that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and your heart skip a beat. Because you know Leon’s gonna tease you for it in due time.

“Almost there,” Leon hums calmly, his eyes almost pitch black with how blown his pupils are. His cock twitches inside of you, constantly reminding you of the fact that he gets off on playing with you like this. Playing is what he calls it. Torture you feel is more fitting.

“Lee… please…” you whimper, lips pouty and eyes glazed over. Gazing up at him through dark lashes, a single tear spilled, making you look even more pitiful than before— if that were even possible.

He must’ve been in a good mood, because for once, Leon did feel pity for you. “okay, honey,” the corner of his lips twitched, threatening to form into a triumphant smirk. And with that, he picked up pace, hands switching position to hold onto your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin and forming dimples around his fingertips. Ready to give you that final send into heaven.

His hips rammed into yours, flesh slapping against flesh and echoing in the otherwise silent room. His balls rhythmically padded against your ass, your pussy squelching loudly with every thrust.

“uhnn, oh gosh, Leon, ah!” you babbled incoherent nonsense, eyes practically going cross and drool slowly trickling down your chin. If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn’t know wether to laugh or look away.

Leon grunts, a soft groan leaving him when your slurred, angelic voice reached his ears. “Jus’ one more, c’mon. Fuck, you’re so wet. Pussy is swallowing me whole,”

Dirty word after dirty word escapes him, fueling the fire coursing through your veins like a dose of drugs. Your tits bounce up and down, and Leon is staring at them with no shame.

And he touches them with no shame too. His hands shoot out, roughly cupping the swell of your breasts, groping and squeezing in time with his thrusts. “Love your pussy. Love these too,” he grunts, his left hand moving downwards slightly to let his fingers pinch at your nipple teasingly.

That’s the thing about Leon, he just can’t keep his hands off you. Or stay still. It’s quite a combination, a dangerous one for you in this case. Because, god, you don’t think you can take anymore.

“Such pretty tits y’got. All mines, huh?” he growls, head ducking to take the swollen nub into his mouth, lips latching on and eagerly sucking. His tongue darted out, hot and wet, swirling and fluttering, heightening your already fucked out senses.

You whine loudly, a high pitched moan following right after. The mattress squeaks, the bed frame scraping against the floor, surely leaving marks that would cost a load to pay for. But that doesn’t matter when your brain is currently getting fucked out.

Leon picks up a punishing pace until his hips are rabbiting into yours, his grip on your tits almost bruising. Leaning back from your swollen nipple, he crashes his lips into yours, tongue thrusting in and fucking into your mouth.

You’re too dazed to respond properly, so you just suck and lick at his tongue dumbly, and soon enough it’s nothing but messy drool and spit being exchanged in this messy kiss.

“What a dumb fucking baby,” Leon coos mockingly, playfully nipping at your bottom lip, drawing blood. He laps at the crimson liquid soothingly, before planting a sloppy kiss against your forehead. The coppery taste lingers on his tongue.

That rush of adrenaline starts to gradually increase, until suddenly it feels like your brain is getting tasered— not as much as your pussy though. “Oh, fuck, fuck fuck, Leon— Leon m’gonna—“

“Yeah? Let it all out— yeah, there we go,” he rumbles, eyes glazing over momentarily as he took in the intensity and view of your orgasm. Your vision went white in a sudden hot flash of pleasure, so intense. It was too much, far too much. Overwhelming.

Hiccuping out a tiny sob, tears streamed down your cheeks while you whined against the intensity, thighs trembling and twitching violently. Leon held you close, holding your head up against the crook of his neck, murmuring reassurances and cooing praise.

He slowed down his movements, and you barely even registered the cum that shot up your pussy in loads, bubbling out against Leon’s dick and forming a foamy white ring around it.

“There’s my good girl. Yeah, jus’ let it alll out. I got you, honey. There there,” he went on over and over, lips planting sweet kisses all over your face, lingering on your cheeks before he pulled back reluctantly.

It was almost enough to make you forgive him. Almost. Well, maybe you did forgive him. You always did.

Gaining the strength to open your eyes, you whimpered pathetically, heavily panting as you attempted to catch your breath. “Lee… Leon… m’tired,” you mewled, eyes droopy and eyelashes clumped up with tears.

“Poor baby,” Leon cooed, “I know, I know,” he sighed, feigning exhaustion. Slowly pulling out of your abused cunt with a small grunt, his cock came loose with a loud squelching noise. He paused, watching as jizz slowly oozed out of your gaping entrance, painting the sheets beneath you with a puddle of white. Yet again.

The sight was enough to get his cock half hard once more despite the amount of times he’s cum along with you. But he’s willing to give you a break, for now that is. His calloused hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away some stray tears.

“You did so good, baby. I got you now, ‘kay?” he reassures, gently shifting himself off your body and scooting upwards until he’s at your side, spooning your quivering frame. “Jus’ relax with me for a little,” he murmured, lips lightly pressing against your collarbone.

He’ll clean you up in a bit, for now— some rest and recuperation is needed.

#kastelixa ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱#kastelixa #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #smut

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0w0tsuki · 8 months

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It really is disheartening to see how desperate transmisandry bros are committed to find SOME WAY, ANY WAY to call transfems who disagree with them TERFs. Like when it first started off it was lazy, dismissive, and just showed that they really had no idea what they were talking about. But then they doubled down and kept attempting to rebrand to try and spin it as progressive. Like it's this Holy Grail of trans andro theory that if they unlock it then they will be able to win all arguments forever and be able to shove any Transfem they don't like out of being able to describe her own oppression.

Like first it was drudging up the term beaddel from nearly a decade. A long dead group of "the one time a group of transfems were genuinely being awful" and mystifying them to warn about secretive "trans lesbian separatists" (literally a term based on "lesbian separatist". A term coined in the SCUM TERF manifesto) trying to sell you "radfem koolaid"

Then they thought "well it might work if we changed the E to an I" and started saying that any transfems using TME/TMA terminology were sex essentialists (even though it's not. Cis men and women are also TME) and "TIRF's" when literally no self respecting trans woman calls themselves that. The few people that do identify with the term TIRF are TME'S who think the trans people who are made with them "don't know how to read" instead of you know, recognizing their ideology is still rooted in bio essentialism.

Then they tried various tactics of redefining TERF. From "all trans people are equally targeted by TERFs and it does harm to say their primary target is trans women" (They see trans men as lost little girls and they want them to detransition and be "saved". They see trans women as violent predators, a threat to women by virtue of existing, and want us DEAD. These are not the same) to "actually their bigotry stems from a hatred of men!" (Actually most TERFs are trad wives. They constantly ally themselves with anti feminist movements. And one of their most prolific members posie parker infamously asked "fathers with gun" to walk into women's restrooms to kill trans women)

Then it was trying to delineate radfeminism from TERFism. Even though just referring to themselves as "radfem", just the same as "gender critical" was a part of a rebranding effort by TERFs themselves when the term TERF got widely recognized as a member of a bigoted hate group. Any "cis radfems who aren't TERFs" that they talk about are just TERFs who think the term is a slur. But that doesn't matter to transmisandry bros because it allows them to hold those terms as two separate things and more importantly as "something separate from TERF but functionally the same to label trans women as"

And now apparently it's "radical transfeminism"? Which come on. You aren't even trying at this point. It's honestly sickening how devoted the group that sells itself as being for "TransUnity" and "stopping the infighting" is so determined to find a term that will allow them to shut out and exclude any Transfem they don't like.

#transmisoginy #terf painting #Transandrophobia truthers

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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(🐝 to recognise as mine)

AITA for not interfering in my little sister's friends icing her out? For context, my sister is two years younger than me and we both go to the same school — I know her friends and they know me.

My sister is in a small group (six in total) and none of them are in her class. She is in the highest classes for every subjects and none of her friends are — but she's the only one who makes it a problem, constantly bragging about her own marks and actively belittling everybody else. She also makes comments about their body weight, appearance, diet and fitness, ranging from general nasty remarks to actively referring to certain friends as the "fucking fatties of the group". She always shit talks her friends to each other in this manner and they all know because they do the same sport as me (my sister doesn't) and I hear them talking about it (one time one of her friends was genuinely crying when confessing some of the stuff my sister said).

Furthermore she is notoriously homophobic, transphobic and ableist, and often says things and slurs that make her friends uncomfortable (none of them to my knowledge are queer but one has been formally diagnosed with ADHD and tics).

Her friends have begun to distance themselves from her and though they haven't fully iced her out yet, I know it's going to happen first because it's the natural course of these types of things and second because I've overheard many of them say that that's their goal. As someone who has dealt with people like my sister in my own friend group, I don't blame them for this in the slightest.

I've talked to her before as her older sibling about not behaving this way, both because it's fucking rude and also because for several months now I've heard her friends saying they're "uncomfortable" around her and don't like hanging out with her. I haven't told her what I've overheard her friends say about her but I have warned her that they "will and probably already do" feel that way. She hasn't listened to me in the past and won't now because I'm "not her mother".

She has begun to notice them separating from her (most recently going trick-or-treating and not inviting her) and has mentioned it vaguely to my parents. My mum has asked me privately to step in and help my sister out.

I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to interfere in what's happening. It's firmly my belief that you should always accept the consequences of your actions and I also am taking some degree of satisfaction watching her finally do so. (In the past she has actively bullied people and gotten away with it scot free).

Furthermore, she frequently says homophobic shit about me and my friends to my face, misgendering me and calling all of us slurs despite me being out about it and my parents being aware and vaguely accepting (it's complicated lol). It is satisfying to see her take heat for her behaviour, even if it's not directly related to what she says at home.

I'm not going to help my sister because in my opinion she has dug her own grave and it's time to lie in it. I doubt I will change my mind on this but I am curious if people beyond my own friends and my sister's friends think that this makes me the asshole.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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iridescentscarecrow · 21 days

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love how so much of this arc's been invoking the theme of the dead lover & simultaneously problematising patriarchal control. both quanxi & eyepatch [i'm sure the accessory too is a deliberate similarity] operate on this basis.

but while quanxi is mute/almost awfully silent about this fact, eyepatch nigh constantly yaps about his wife -- forms her concept as a justification for his actions. it reminds me of how, on the church side, barem talks about makima & uses her to convey what he does to denji. i think viewing eyepatch from the angle of the affair (still enmeshed within his self justifying, moralistic pov) perhaps even set against quanxi's multiple partners whom she treats well & mourns v differently from how he does is intriguing.

he dies as cannibalised by the idea'd version of her [considering the CSM as a bestowal of concept], very similar to how he treats her. quanxi meanwhile while constrained by their deaths / their bodies [idea'd remnants] gives this up also in the face of the CSM.

there's sth v. interesting to consider here alongside how palpably misogynist/queerphobic many of the remarks in this arc have been (katana's character located within the yakuza's patriarchy throwing a slur at nail, asayoru being referred to as csm's woman, denji as her bf).. it's imo quite significant to the playground part 2 is working within -- where asaden's respective protagonisms conform & respond to gendered expectations & where their relationship too is built upon at many levels fleeting connection & <parasocial> idealisation on kiga's stage.

#csm 162 #csm meta #chainsaw man #crow.txt

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lisaquestions · 2 months

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So first of all, this is a lie. "Baeddel" did not refer only to intersex people and intersex people were not even seen as a distinct category when the word was first used.

Second of all, every single person I've seen say this is someone who has clearly never been called a baeddel saying it to women who have been, often many times. People are pissed that trans women, after being called this as an insult, are claiming it again, and trying to shut that down.

Third, this was on a post talking about how transmisogynists are calling trans women baeddels, so this person is telling a trans woman that she's not allowed to describe insults used against her.

This isn't a real problem, trans women calling themselves baeddels steals nothing from intersex people, nor is reporting the fact that transmisogynists are calling us baeddels in the first place. And this word hasn't been in common use for hundreds of years anyway. It's like telling lesbians to stop calling ourselves lesbians because it refers to the Isle of Lesbos.

Anyway, just leave trans women alone, stop trying to control our every movement and police our every word. Stop calling us revived slurs and then telling us we're stealing them when we use them for any reason among ourselves. Stop sending sexual harassment as anonymous asks. Stop contorting your logic into pretzels to prove that we're the problem when you're constantly attacking us for any reason you can concoct.

Edit: To clarify I don't know if the person who wrote the comment I capped is intentionally lying, but this is a falsehood I've seen more than once, so someone is spreading it intentionally.

#transmisogyny #baeddel #trans women #misogyny #intersex #I am an intersex trans woman

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shubblelive · 1 year

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— BROKEN RULES, BROKEN HEARTS

summary : you and wilbur play a game together. usually, that game doesn't involve him getting drunk and confessing his feelings for you, but there's a first time for everything.

genre : fluff

warnings : swearing, alcohol/drinking

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader, musicianbur x reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is referred to as a lady

featuring : musician!wilbur soot

word count : 1.4k

note : can you tell i'm a sucker for one character storms out upset and the other character tries desperately to convice the frst one that they're in love with them, but the first character refuses to believe it

it was a game you both liked to play.

traveling so often, you and wilbur found that more often than not you didn't sleep in the same city twice. so, to escape the monotony of finishing a show, getting a celebratory drink with the other members of the band and then going back to whatever dingy motel you'd managed to score two twin rooms in, switching who had to sleep on the couch because the band wasn't big enough to afford much better now.

wilbur couldn't apologise enough to you; he'd presented touring as this glamorous thing. come on tour with me, he'd proposed, it'll be exciting. a different city every night, front row tickets to see us play. please, for your best friend in the entire world?

you didn't mind though, you got to spend time with him, and that was all that mattered to you. so whenever you had an oh-so-precious 24 hours of no shows, you and wilbur took full advantage and pulled into the first bar you could find.

you'd both pick an accent, more often than not he went with australian (something he refused to budge on, insisting it was flawless). you switched it up sometimes, but had one that you felt you could immitate fairly consistently.

then, you'd enter seperately. rock paper scissors to determine who got first pick of the bartenders, and then the game began.

the rules of the game were simple.

you had to chat it up with your bartender, adhering to the strict schedule of drinks you'd both agreed on; enough to get you slurring your words but nowhere near enough to make you do something you'd regret. swapping with water frequently, and text check ins every 30 minutes. you avoided busy places and stayed in sight of each other constantly.

first person to have someone ask "what happened to your accent?" payed for both of you.

wilbur had won the game of rock paper scissors, so you stood by the curb for five minutes until you were allowed in. your eyes zeroed in on him immediately. he was flirting with a bartender, the same cocky smile that gave you butterflies plastered across his face as he told a story. he made eye contact with you for a split second as you walked in, but then his game face was back on.

you positioned yourself at the other end of the bar, your only thought that you were going to win; wilbur was toast.

wilbur was toast. the bartender he'd been chatting up had noticed the brief pause in his gaze on her, and had interrupted his story. "you might have more luck with the lady over there," she said. "i'm not really into dudes."

"what if i'm just looking for a friend?" he challenged, cheeks tinted pink that she'd caught on.

"you know her or something?" the bartender pressed on, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder as she leaned into him conspiratorially. "no one looks at a stranger like that."

you noticed the grin on her face, the blush on his as they talked quietly. you and your target had been talking for nearly ten minutes at that point and if he'd clocked that your accent was fake he hadn't let on.

you were having an enjoyable (read: bland) conversation with him, and eventually had started talking to the girl next to you. she noticed the band on the shirt you wore, and you kicked yourself. you'd gone into the bar with the name of wilbur's band plastered across your chest. you were only grateful that his face wasn't on it. she mentioned how she'd heard the name before, and you posed as a fan as well.

you actually had such a good time talking to her that two things had happened. first, you'd missed your checkin with wilbur. second, you'd completely forgotten about the game.

"were you..." she giggled, sipping on her drink as you finished yours off. "were you faking your accent?"

"fuck," you couldn't help but laugh. "it's a stupid fucking bet i have going with my best friend. i completely forgot about it."

you hadn't lost though, with the bartender wilbur had been talking to having noticed almost immediately. he considered her question. no one looks at a stranger like that. how did he look at you? sure, you were pretty, but you were his best friend. it was purely platonic, the way he looked at you. he was just protective.

"maybe i'm a hopeless romantic?" he'd proposed.

the bartender, millie, according to her nametag, had laughed. "a hopeless romantic with a shitty australian accent? you sound like a manic pixie dreamgirl."

"she happens to like my australian accent," wilbur let it drop, smiling sheepishly.

"my last girlfriend was australian, and she'd have laughed in your face the second you opened your mouth." millie snickered. "so you do know her? is she your girlfriend? no, you wouldn't be over here with me if she was. ex? not over her?"

wilbur wasn't listening. his phone had buzzed. you'd both been there for an hour at that point, and you'd only checked in with him once. he gave it an extra five minutes, but then excused himself. millie had just laughed. "go get your girl, casanova."

you were fairly tipsy at that point, and you were nearing the 90 minute cap - no one noticed after an hour and a half and they called it, each paying for their own drinks.

"hi, love," you jumped when he put his hand on you.

"fuck, you scared the- what's up? did you lose?"

"you didn't reply to my text." he said simply, holding up his phone. "got worried."

"i should be going," the other girl said. "you got my number right? text me," she smiled warmly at wilbur as she wandered out of the bar.

"you alright, will?" you put your hand on the front of his shoulder. "what's wrong?"

"i got worried that some creep had snatched you up," he mumbled, putting his hand over yours. "'specially when you look so pretty."

your gaze fled from his, landing on your shoes, with knocked against the side of your barstool nervously. "don't be mean, will."

apparently you were both a little more drunk than you'd realised. he frowned. "i'm not. why would i be mean to you, sweetheart?"

"you're making fun of me." you were fiddling with your fingers. "stop."

"i'm not." wilbur insisted. "you're so pretty."

you stood, wobbling a little. "stop." you repeated, tears pooling pathetically in your eyes. "stop it, wilbur."

"is everything alright?" millie approached. "you okay, honey?"

you nodded angrily. "yeah. you can close my tab. i'm done here," millie grabbed your card and you were about to pay when wilbur spoke up.

"i've got it." he'd upset you, and he didn't know why, but he did know that he'd lost the game. "i'll pay for her."

millie handed you your card with a gentle squeeze of your hand, and you took it from her. wilbur watched as you walked out, and it took less than ten seconds for millie to speak up. "what did you do, kangaroo-man?"

he sent her a look, and didn't reply as he paid for the drinks. "i don't know," he said finally, giving her a smile as he left.

you were just outisde, tears clinging to your eyelashes as you waited for a cab. "darling-"

"please don't," you said softly. "you had your fun. you're being cruel."

"by saying you're pretty?" he pulled on your wrist until you were looking at him. "because it's not a joke, love. you are so pretty, and i would tell you that stone-cold sober, and i'd tell you that in front of a crowd of people, so i am telling you here, outside this dingy bar because it is the truth. you are so pretty."

you paused. "you would? do all that stuff?"

"i'd tell the crowd at the show tomorrow if you asked me to, angel." he said sincerely. he was standing awfully close to you, and maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was exactly what he had been trying to prove to you; you looked so lovely under the flickering bar sign.

"you don't have to do that," you shook your head, voice so soft you were almost whispering. "just tell me."

your lips pressed against his and his hands went to the hem of your shirt, his name written across your chest on the shirt you wore. your hands went into his hair, pulling him ever closer. he pulled away just long enough to utter one breathless sentence before he was kissing you again.

"believe me, i will."

#wishing i could write my name on it #wilbuh #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur x you

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dailyreverie · 7 months

Text

The wedding party

@flufftober - Day 2 Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem. reader

Word count: 755

CW: Alcohol consumption, everyone is drunk.

Flufftober masterlist

When Steve looked around the room, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He’s drunk enough to laugh even when he didn’t hear the joke since he was too busy looking at the faces of the people that surrounded him, but not so drunk that he'd forget this precious moment when he woke up the next day. He’s sure he’s never been happier, or that he will ever be as much.

The mid-priced champagne that had your usual crew drunk on the floor of your tiny living room matched the shine of the ring he so carefully slid on your finger a week ago; it shined from where your hand rested on his thigh, making his eyes get constantly lost in it. It was the reason everyone was there, telling stories of how Steve had been head over heels for you from day one. He didn’t care, they could laugh all they wanted, he had finally got his girl after all.

Before your modest gathering, there had been an evening of greeting relatives and hugging people both of you hadn’t seen in ages: aunts, uncles and cousins from both your families that you had to invite to the party, after all, Steve's parents had graciously offered their house for the official engagement celebration, for the grand, showy affair. However, both of you had secretly longed for an intimate gathering afterward with the only people in the world you truly wanted to celebrate with.

“It’s obviously Robin who’s gonna be the maid of honor,” Max confirmed to a conversation that Steve had not been paying attention to before, only then catching the way the girl’s words were slurring. “I’m happy to just be invited, honestly.”

“Well, yes, Robin will be my maid of honor, but you’re insane if you think you and El are not gonna be one of my bridesmaids, whether you like it or not young lady.” Your statement made Max’s eyes shine, her tough demeanor crumbling by such a simple act of your pure adoration for her. Robin’s pride didn’t go unnoticed by either Steve or you, as she raised her glass to you and you responded to the gesture with your own.

“Okay but who’s going to be your best man, Harrington?” Dustin interrupts the sweet moment, his tone more urgent than expected.

“You gotta be careful with the Harrington now, she’s gonna be Harrington too now soon.” Steve nudged his shoulder with yours, his future wife, and the sweet words made a high-pitched chorus of “aww” ‘s from Robin, Max, Will, and El. At the same time, though you noticed the less-than-impressed expressions on the faces of your other guests.

“Cut the crap, Steve.” Lucas chimes in.

“Yeah, who’s it gonna be?” Mike adds. Steve grunts, and you try to reassure him with a squeeze to his leg.

“Do we really have to do this right now? You’re all drunk.” Your fiancée tries to calm them down, but their state only heightened their emotions.

“Yes, we have to do this right now! They already did it!” Dustin speaks again, referring to the bridal party that was so peacefully put together in a matter of seconds. “What’s it gonna take? You want me to fight them?”

Eddie, who was pretty much just happy to be there, opens his eyes in shock and turns to look at him. “I’m not gonna fight anyone for the position, it was already mine.” With a huff Steve covered his face, he really should have seen it coming.

The younger men stood up with wounded expressions, spiraling into a debate filled with accusations of "How dare you?" and "What's wrong with you?". Their bickering mixed with the girlish giggles from you and your future bridesmaids, which made the evening much more amusing.

“What a family we’ve chosen, huh?” You whispered close to his ear, giving a kiss to his cheek right after, Both of you shared a laugh as you watched the spectacle unfold.

“And we’re the only ones to blame” He joked back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, nestling comfortably against him as you found yourself in his warm embrace, taking it all in. As their fight kept going, Steve suddenly realized that they were arguing over who knew him better and who loved him more.

"I wouldn't change it for the world," he admitted.

"Neither would I," you replied, placing another sweet kiss on his cheek. All with the occasional chaos, you treasured this chosen family with every beat of your now-combined hearts.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober2023 #day 2 #flufftober #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic

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she-wolf09231982 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 3- The Business

Summary: On June 6, 1944, D-Day, C47’s with thousands of paratroopers cross the English Channel to France, where they come under heavy fire. None of you land where you’re expected to, and many lose their weapons and supplies in the drop. Even worse, you are separated from Liebgott. Fortunately, you do land near LT Winters, who links up with solitary soldiers, then set off to find other units.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Enemies to friends, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Aggression, Angst, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Wounds/Injuries, Smoking, Crying, Banter, Pining, FLUFF Chapter takes place 1x2 Day of Days & 1x3 very early Carentan

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of the historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

“Y/L/N!” Winters shout whispers to you, waving you over to come to him.

You had landed in the middle of a field, tall grass quite overgrown, and dark as hell. You gather your chute to keep the wind from pulling you off, then hurry over to him.

“You ok, corporal?” Winters asked.

“Yes, sir.” You respond no louder than anyone but him to hear.

Although you say you’re physically ok, your internal activity is utter chaos. Your eyes were constantly on the move from left to right looking for German threats, your fellow jumpers...but most importantly for Liebgott.

During the flight, you were sitting directly across from him. You secretly wished to be next to him so you could land closer to eachother after the drop. Instead, you jumped right before LT Winters, whereas Liebgott jumped and probably landed long before you had left the plane.

Another soldier about ten feet away hustled over.

“Flash!” Winters called out.

“Shit!” The unknown soldier responded.

“I don't think that's the correct reply, trooper. I say 'flash,’ you say ‘thunder.’” Winters advised him.

“Yessir.” The soldier replied nervously.

The unfamiliar soldier was Private John Hall from Able Company. He was the radio man until he lost his radio in the jump. Nobody landed where they were supposed to, and it was clear that everyone was scattered.

You remained to the rear of Hall and Winters to secure behind you in case any Germans approached from behind. The three of you make it to a tree line and enter the woods to get some proper concealment.

“We'll locate some landmarks to get our bearings. Keep your eyes peeled for buildings, farmhouses, bridges, roads, trees.” Winter instructed.

You hear a rustle in the thicket across the stream from where you had been walking. Winters motioned for you all to camouflage yourselves against the brush of some bushes. Winters takes his clicker, then signals to who he deduced were American soldiers by clicking twice. Four clicks in response confirmed they were Easy Company members.

“Lieutenant Winters, is that you?” Lipton questioned.

Sergeant Lipton along with two paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne crossed the stream and you all kneeled in a circle to figure out the next course of action.

“Sir, I saw a sign back that aways, said, ‘Sainte-Mère-Église.’” Lipton declared.

Winters pulled out a map, flashlight and small compass, while an 82nd troop threw a raincoat over him for light control so not to give away your position.

Winters stated it was at least a four hour walk to the assembly point, so you all got walking. You run into Privates Malarkey and Rob “Popeye” Wynn, as well as Corporal Joe Toye.

Easy Company began greeting eachother, relieved to see that some of you made it safe to the ground. Toye gave you a few heavy pats on the back.

“Son of a bitch! You made it, doll!” Toye acknowledged, impressed by your gumption to survive such a vicious drop.

“Good to see you, L/N!” Malarkey was all smiles as he brought you in for a one-armed hug.

When you pulled away, his facial expression turned uneasy.

“Seen Joe?” He asked concerned.

You could only shake your head, too afraid to speak about it outloud so not to make the worst-case scenario a reality.

Malarkey put a hand on your shoulder giving you an encouraging squeeze.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He whispered to you. You each exchange weak smiles.

You start the convoy following the train tracks to your next destination. As you’re walking you hear another rustle from behind.

“Flash!” Winters called.

“Thunder! LT Winters? Is that you? Malarkey?” A very familiar voice responded.

Fire and bile bubbled in the pit of your stomach...Guarnere. Just what you needed. You yearned for Liebgott to be here with you now that Guarnere had joined up with you guys.

“Hey, fellas!! Good to see ya, Lark! Toye!” Guarnere beamed.

As soon as he saw you, he grimaced, spit at the ground the turned around to face Winters.

“Guarnere, keep moving. You and Hall up front.” Winters directed.

After an unfortunate run in with a group of Germans, you push forward towards Sainte-Mère-Église.

It was the longest night ever but as daylight broke, you come upon what looks to be a small farm with several dead Germans lying under a dead paratrooper hanging by his parachute cords from a tree. The group scrounge any supplies left from the casualties, then continued the trek to the assembly point.

Finally, you see in the short distance where the rallying point is. A small town with bombed out buildings served as an assembly point for the Regiment to regroup. After you pass the cow carcasses made to be a makeshift check point at the entrance of the village, you inadvertently start trailing your team as you desperately scoured the main street for Liebgott.

Your heart began to sink into a whirlpool of despair. Your chest starts to tighten as tears begin to cloud your vision causing the world to close in on you. The voices of the men around you are muffled and distant. You wouldn’t even know or care if any of them were speaking directly to you because it felt like everything was crumbling around you. All because Joe was nowhere to be seen or heard.

Lost in your own underworld, ready to yield to what you thought was the inevitable, you clearly hear a single voice that heaves you from your sorrowful conviction.

“Easy Company!” You hear through the crowd.

Only Joe Liebgott’s voice could revive you from this morbid state.

“That has to be him!” You think to yourself.

Your breath hitched as you frantically searched for him. So many men wearing the same uniform made it almost impossible to tell one from the other. Your ability to speak was muted by distress, you couldn’t even bring yourself to call out to him. You almost thought you imagined hearing him at all, until at last, you look ahead up the road, and off to the side, you see him. A wave of relief rains onto you as you stand there stunned.

He shakes Guarnere’s hand.

“Bill! Good to see ya.” Liebgott gestured with a smile.

His expression shifted to concern when he didn’t see you right away. He started to push through the crowd in hopes of finding you. The guys parted a path for him to see you at the other end of the street, motionless as your eyes finally meet.

Joe, excitement spreading across his face, hurried to you. Your legs fail you, bringing you to the ground on your hands and knees.

“Y/F/N!” Liebgott wailed as he broke into a full-on sprint towards you.

When he reached you, he threw himself to his knees in front of you scooping you into his arms.

“Y/N?? Look at me! Are you hurt?”

He brought his face level with yours, trying to look at you. When you finally look up, he held your head between his strong hands to keep your face straight towards his. Tear streaks stained your filthy cheeks. Puzzled, he tilted his head studying you. He took the sleeve of his uniform and gently wiped your face and with his other hand cradled your head. You bring your hands up and hold his hand that supported your head, leaning into his touch.

He looks you over, trying to find any signs of injury. He looks upon you fervently, affectionately running his thumb across your cheekbone. He’s waiting for you say something, anything to reassure him that you’re ok.

Your tears continue to flow, but you’re smiling.

Liebgott chuckled from confusion.

“Y/N, why the hell are you crying?” He asked you.

After a long pause, and a much-needed exhale after holding your breath for so long, you say,

“I thought I’d never see you again...”

He was pleasantly shocked by your response, not to mention absolutely elated. His smug grin surfaced as he gently helped you to your feet.

His hands gripped your shoulders keeping you stable while your hands rested on his chest. He tenderly shifted your head side to side by your chin to examine your face for any scratches or abrasions...or he wanted an excuse to look at you which was likely the case.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He stated with that unmistakable confidence.

He smiled at you then winked, sending you into a flutter of euphoria.

“So, you missed me, huh?” He added.

You punch him in the shoulder then hug eachother like you’re not right in the middle of a gruesome invasion of Europe.

But you had missed him. You were afraid for him...terrified. Joe had an unshakable presence of rage that drove him straight to the center of danger with no regard for his own well-being. His love language was sarcasm and any form of banter, so if he ever did feel fear, it was never terribly noticeable.

It didn’t matter right now, though. You finally found Joe. Nothing or nobody else was more important.

~~~~~~~

Winters was told to select some men and lead an assault on a French estate called Brécourt, about 300 yards from where you all were rallied. The Germans have installed four 88mm antitank cannons that were firing directly on Utah Beach and inflicting heavy casualties. Easy Company’s objective was to flank the Germans from behind and demobilize them so American soldiers had safe passage onto the beachhead.

Only having 13 Easy Company members accounted for, this left them having to borrow men from other companies that they picked up on the way to the town after the drop.

Winters addressed the 13 troops that were selected to go on this next mission. This included Liebgott and yourself.

“The 88s we’ve been hearing have been spotted in a field down the road a ways. Major Strayer wants us to take them out.”

He had a sheet of blank paper with a map in the center of the circle of soldiers.

“There are two guns that we know of firing on Utah Beach.” Winters drew x’s on the paper signifying where they were located then continued.

“Plan on a third and fourth here and here.” He drew two more x’s before proceeding.

“The Germans are in the trenches with access to the entire battery. With machine gun covering the rear. We’ll establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast with two squads of three.”

“How many Krauts they think we’re facing?” Guarnere interrupted.

Winters paused.

“No idea.” He responded.

“No idea?” Guarnere retorted while rolling his eyes.

Winters returned to the brief disregarding Guarnere’s passive attitude.

“We’ll take some TNT along with us. Despite the guns. Lipton, your responsibility.”

“Yes, sir.” Lipton replied.

“Liebgott, you’ll take the first machine gun, with Petty A-gunner.” Winters instructed. Liebgott only nodded.

“Plesha, Hendrix, you take over the other. Who does that leave?” Winters asked collectively.

You, Malarkey, Toye, Guarnere, and Compton raise your hands.

“Okay. We’ll be making the main assault. Understood?” Winter added.

You collectively replied “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, let’s pack it up.” Winter ordered.

You all gather outside to prepare your gear. Winters approached you as you crouched organizing your med supplies.

“Y/L/N.”

“Sir?” You say standing quickly, facing Winters.

“I’ll need you more towards the rear, so we have the best chance of maintaining our medical assist in case anyone gets hurt.” Winters ordered.

“But, sir-” You began.

“Remain to the rear.” Winters repeated sternly before you could finish.

You look at him wanting to protest his order, but only sigh reluctantly.

“To the rear.” You confirmed.

You return to prepacking your gear begrudgingly. Liebgott watched you and chuckled.

“What?” You ask him.

He looked over to you.

“You’re cute when you're upset.” He admitted.

Unamused, you decide not to dignify with comment and keep packing your stuff.

~~~~~~~

“MEDIC!!” You hear from a distance after heavy gunfire and explosions unleash relentlessly onto Easy.

You run and duck, racing in the direction of the yelling, weaving and bobbing trying to avoid getting hit by any oncoming enemy fire. You couldn’t hear anything except your own heartbeat as you ran, but managed to find the spot where you were needed.

You jump feet first into the trench, finding Guarnere, Compton, and Lorraine, with ‘Popeye’ Wynn lying on his side crying out in pain.

“I’m sorry, sir!!” Wynn kept yelling.

“Where you hit, Pop?” You shouted.

“Right in the ass!” He yelped.

Compton, Guarnere, and Lorraine laid suppressive fire while you worked on Wynn.

“Lay on your stomach, Pop, I need to see!” You direct him helping turn over onto his front.

You cut through the hole on the seat Wynn’s pants where the bullet made contact, exposing the wound.

“Goddam it, I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to fuck up!” Wynn called out to Compton.

“Pop, just stay still! You’re gonna be fine, buddy.” You tell him as you applied pressure to his wound reaching for your clot powder and bandages.

You project your voice to Wynn, but it’s calm and steady so not to alarm him. The slightest hint of terror in your voice only makes things worse for the wounded was something Doc Roe told you.

“You think you can make it back yourself?” Compton shouted out to you and Wynn.

You both look up at him.

“I think so, sir!” Wynn responded.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sir.” You declared.

Corporal Y/L/N, you’re going with Pop to make sure he gets back!” Compton ordered.

“With all due respect, sir, I’m needed here. I’m staying!” You argued as you helped Wynn to his feet to shove him out of the trench.

Compton grunted in frustration.

“He wasn’t asking ya, he was tellin’ ya.” Guarnere snapped at you.

“And I wasn’t talkin’ to you, Guarnere! You just hold the line while I do my job!” You returned with ice in your voice. You carefully crawl out of the trench to go find anyone else that might need your help.

Guarnere scoffed to himself amused by your response.

~~~~~~~

Easy Company along with Spiers’ Dog Company claimed victory at Brécourt, securing the beachhead.

As the two units walked back to the assembly point back at the town, Liebgott caught up with you.

“Hey, Y/N, you alright?” He asked right away. He looked you over and noticed blood stains on your uniform.

You sense his panic, “Don’t worry, it’s not mine. I’m fine, Joe.” You reassure.

He exhaled then gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, smiling at you when you looked at him.

“Good.” He replied. “I’ll find you later, Gams.” He added with a wink, then rushed off ahead.

You laugh to yourself, a fuzzy feeling rising within you that only Joe could produce after such a horrific situation.

~~~~~~~

That night was spent recovering. The following day orders were given to maneuver to take Carentan where German soldiers were being sheltered. Carentan was the main crossroad between Cotentin and Calvados where the ally force’s tanks needed passage to attack the main objective, Cherbourg.

“Listen up!” LT Welsh shouted. “It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking. And no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz. We're taking Carentan. It's the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division.”

Some of the men begin to grumble under their breath. Everyone started to stir to gather their gear to begin the journey to Carentan.

Walking in a file formation on each side of the road to Carentan, Liebgott makes sure to keep you in his peripherals. You’re behind Toye, who’s talking to Guarnere in front of him.

“Heard Y/L/N gave you the business back at Brécourt, Bill.” Toye teased him.

“Ah shit, Toye, why?” You whispered to him, not thrilled about the instigation.

Guarnere was unusually quiet at first. Probably thinking of something snarky to say about you.

“She sure did, Joe.” He finally responded almost warmly.

Guarnere looked back at you giving you a small smirk before he added, “Ya did good out there, kid.” He complimented you.

You were surprised to say the least. You’ve earned Guarnere’s respect because you didn’t allow his indifference towards you to break you during combat. Not only did you not allow him to shake you, but you also dished some attitude in return, reminding him to keep his focus on the battle. Things were going to be different between you and ‘Wild Bill’ Guarnere. ~~~~~~~

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angelst4re · 2 years

Text

King of My Heart- Jace Wayland/ Herondale/ Lightwood x Reader

summary: jace had always had a crush on you, yet you would always reject him out of fear of losing your best friend, but when a new girl arrives at the institute you find yourself feeling jealous.

warnings: NSFW!! light smut :)

note: yes the title is another taylor swift reference... i've spent the last five days reading city of fallen angels and city of lost souls... i've just started heavenly fire today :) all i can say is malec <3 magnus is definitely one of my favourite characters right now!!

For as long as you could remember, Jace had always had an interest in you. When you arrived at the Institute at 12 years old, he had been the one you had first trusted. You were a scared, worried child who had just lost both of her parents, and he was always there for you no matter what. On a chilly February night, you had woken up from a terrible nightmare, and found yourself at Jace’s bedroom door. He had welcomed you into his room, wrapped you in a blanket and let you open up to him about your family and your past. You had fallen asleep by his side that night, after he had read you a story.

As the two of you grew up, it was obvious he had a crush on you. He would constantly ask you out and every time you would reject him he would only ask you again. Of course you liked him back, but the two of you were very… different. Jace was fearless, he acted from his heart and not his brain, he didn’t have a care in the world about what anyone thought of him. You, on the other hand, were wiser, thought logically and never took risks.

Jace loved to tease you, to watch you blush as he would compliment you, when his hands would be placed on your waist as he moved around you, when he would clean up your injuries from a battle. His favourite way of teasing you, however, was asking you out. He would catch a small smile beginning to form on your lips before you would shake your head, ‘no, Jace!’.

6 years passed and it was clear to you- and everyone for that matter- that he wouldn’t settle for anyone except you, and everyone believed that one day you would give in. But everything changed when a new girl arrived at the institute. Clary Fray.

It wouldn’t have bothered you, but Jace seemed to spend a lot of time with her. You found yourself feeling slightly jealous.

Jace stopped visiting your room at night to read together, instead you could hear him laughing with Clary in his room. Alec had also become aware of this new bond, and he didn’t really approve either, he wasn’t sure if they could trust her, yet Jace insisted they could.

Stupidly, you and Isabelle had gotten drunk one night at one of Magnus’ parties, and you had told her about your feelings for Jace.

“Really?” Her jaw dropped, “so you’re telling me you’ve been rejecting him all these years when in fact you actually liked him back?”

“Stupid, I know.” You sighed, nodding your head, “and now he’s found someone else, my chance has gone! Ugh, I knew I should have said something sooner.”

“But you didn’t want to ruin your friendship! It’s totally understandable, and I’m sure if Jace really loves you like we all think he does, he would want you to tell him.”

Something clicked in your brain and you scrambled to get up from the floor of the spare bedroom. You reached in your pocket for your phone and pulled it out, finding Jace’s contact in a heartbeat and pressing the call button, rushing out of Magnus’ apartment.

“Y/n?” Jace answered in a matter of seconds.

“Jace… hi! I’m coming back from M-Magnus’ party… I need to tell you something…” You slurred, stepping down the stairs one at a time to make sure you didn’t trip.

“Are you with someone?”

“No…”

“Wait outside, I’m on my way. I’m not letting you walk home by yourself.” He said before hanging up.

You wanted to argue back, telling him you’re a shadowhunter, you can walk home by yourself!

But it only took a matter of minutes for him to arrive.

“Oh my- y/n, how much have you had to drink?” He sighed, watching you stumble as you walked towards him.

“...I don’t know. Ask Izzy.” Your voice slurs as you trip on the side of the road, yet Jace is there to catch you.

“Trust me, I will.”

Jace had walked you home, asking you about your evening. You had told him how Magnus’ cat was the cutest thing you have ever seen and how a vampire had tried to get your phone number.

“But I didn’t tell him, Jace.” You whisper as he helps you to take off your boots, sitting you down on your bed, “because I love you.”

Jace’s face went blank for roughly two seconds, trying to process what you had just said.

“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying. Get some rest, okay?” Jace smiled softly, helping you get tucked into bed.

“I mean it, Jace.” You tell him, “I think I’ve always loved you, but I’ve been afraid… afraid we’ll lose our f-friendship.”

“Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, okay?” Jace’s tone had a hint of seriousness to it. "It's not that I don't trust you or believe you, but you're drunk."

“Okay… thank you, Jace.”

“No worries. Sweet dreams, love.”

* * *

“She’s alive!” Jace laughed, imitating a zombie’s voice as you sat down for breakfast.

“Oh, shut up,” you chuckle, “I’m never drinking again.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last… year.” Alec says, taking a bite out of his pancake.

“I know, but I mean it this time. Where’s Iz?”

“I think she slept at Magnus’.” Said Jace

“Yeah, he called me to let me know she’s there and that she’s safe. She fell asleep in one of his spare bedrooms.”

“Typical Izzy,” Jace scoffed, “I’m surprised you didn’t stay.” He said to Alec, who explained they had gotten into an argument.

Jace placed a plate in front of you, he had made pancakes for everyone. Everyone including,

“Hi guys!”

Clary.

Jace sent her a smile, passing her a plate too. You watched her with evil eyes as she tried to involve herself in the conversation- but failed terribly. It was very clear Alec didn’t like her much, either.

“Jace,” you began after finishing your pancakes, standing up, “I think we need to have that talk, don’t we?”

Jace’s eyes lit up and Clary sent him a glance of confusion. He didn’t say anything, instead he led you to his room. Shutting the door behind him as you sat on his bed.

“I don’t like her much.” You say with a sigh, looking down at the bag of her things at the bottom of Jace’s bed.

“I got that impression,” Jace smirked, “why’s that?”

“I dunno. I feel like ever since she got here we’ve… drifted.”

“Drifted? Us?” Jace waved his hand as if to dismiss what you had said, “nobody will come between us, okay? She’s just having a tough time right now, she needs somewhere to stay and-”

“So you let her stay in your room? Jace, there’s hundreds of bedrooms here,” that was a bit of an exaggeration, “surely she’d rather have her own space.”

“Is someone jealous?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk plastered on his face, “it’s okay, we can create a router, you can stay on Mondays and-”

“Jace!” You interrupted, “you just don’t get it, do you?”

He crouched down in front of you so he was at your level.

“I thought, because this is how you treated me that maybe I was… I don’t know, special? God that sounds stupid.” You shake your head, resting it in your hands before Jace takes your wrists, forcing you to look at him.

“You are special to me, y/n. Like I said, Clary is only here temporarily, okay? If you’re upset that I’m not spending as much time with you-”

“It’s not that, Jace!” You huff, “the way you treat her, it’s just like how you treated me. You then tell me you love me- for years! And as soon as I realise I’ve maybe possibly felt the same way all this time, you’ve already moved on. I feel terrible, Jace. I feel like I’ve-”

He shut you up, placing a hand on the side of your face and pulling you into a kiss. His lips were soft against yours, and felt much nicer than the back of your hand. Your right hand came to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.” Jace said as he pulled away for air. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”

“Oh, I know what I said. And yes, Jace, I meant it.” You say before pulling him back in, his lips on yours felt like heaven.

His hand came down to your waist, helping you move further up the bed as he leaned over you, setting his body between your legs without your lips parting for the slightest moment.

“Can I?” His hand was on your bare stomach underneath your jumper, wishing to move higher, but he needed your permission.

“Please.” You panted, your back arching involuntarily against his touch.

His hand snaked up and rested on your breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of your bra as his kisses moved down towards your neck. You were glad you still wore your strapless bra from last night as Jace reached behind you and took it off with ease, throwing it to the floor before tugging on one of your nipples, causing a gasp to leave your lips.

“Jace…” You moaned, your fingers tangling into your hair.

“Hmm.” He hummed against your skin.

“I need… I want more. Please.”

He began to nibble on the delicate skin on your neck, sure to leave some marks, as his hand slid down, his fingers resting under the waistband of your jeans.

“You sure?” He asked, pulling back so he could scan your face for any signs of hesitation.

“Yes… I’ve never been more sure.”

He smiled gently, retracting his hand so he could unbutton and unzip your jeans, pulling them down to where your knees were hanging off the mattress.

His hand cupped your clothed heat as you gasped against his mouth. Two of his fingers began rubbing over your clothed clit, causing you to grip onto his shoulders. He slipped his fingers under your panties and groaned at the feeling of your arousal.

You let out a small moan followed by his name as he prodded a finger into your hole, his thumb playing with your clit when suddenly,

“Jace! Can I come in!” Clary knocked on the door.

Your eyes widened as Jace slipped his finger inside you and curled upwards, the pace of his thumb increasing as he kissed your neck. Not caring that Clary was at the door and that it was unlocked.

“Not right now, Clary. Why?” Bastard, you thought as Jace replied, wishing he would have just sent her away.

You felt a pressure building in your lower belly as Jace slipped a second finger into your pulsing cunt. You let out another small moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening as his hand clasped over your mouth.

“Oh I just wanted to get my pencils… Is someone in there with you?” She asked innocently.

The pressure continued to build and soon you came undone on Jace’s fingers. He worked you though your high, until your hand came down to grab his wrist. As he pulled his slick covered fingers from you, he slipped one into his mouth, moaning at the taste before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“That’s okay, you can come in now.” Jace grinned at you as he helped you button your jeans back up. You moved and sat beside Jace, your thighs still slightly trembling from your orgasm as Clary opened the door slowly.

Jace placed his hand on your thigh and sent Clary an innocent smile as she rummaged through her bag.

“Found your pencils?” He asked, watching as her face screwed up.

“Yes… but this isn’t my bra?”

---

taglist! @missyviolet123 @lov3rsl4ke @batmvx @papivolturi @munsonsquinn @boweryara @sea040561

#jace herondale #jace wayland #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower smut #jace wayland smut #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #jace lightwood

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jewishvitya · 1 year

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Anon:

I've actually met J.K. Rowling irl and asked her about the antisemitism controversy point blank. Very politley, she said it was ridiculous. She said she based the goblins on English folklore and nothing more.

It doesn't matter what she says. She can tell us her intent, not her impact. Not once did I accuse her of making the goblins in the books antisemitic on purpose. My issue was that she didn't care enough to acknowledge it and talk about it respectfully. The result stays the same. I laid out how they are antisemitic. It's in the text regardless of what she says.

She made Grindelwald an antagonist who claims he wants to stop the holocaust. By trying to stop him, the protagonists are trying to preserve the course of events where, in real life, the holocaust happened. She used holocaust imagery in her magic movies. I'm not just going to trust her word and her judgment on what's antisemitic. Be serious.

As for the game, most gentiles I know don't even know what a shofar is.

Even if you completely disregard the horn, it's still a storyline of blood libel using an antisemitic depiction. The only reason the horn is a problem, is that they put it in the hands of antisemitic caricatures. I'm not claiming ownership on the concept of ram's horn instruments. I was clear on that too.

As for the 1612 parallel, I genuinely don't know where that came from. [...] In fact, the one people keep referring to happened in 1614!

The Fettmilch uprising was a series of events that started at 1612. A bigger expulsion of Jews from the place was at 1614, but the attacks started before that, at 1612.

If you play it, you'll find trans and gay characters that are amazing and so fun to interact with, as well as an overall theme of antiprejudism.

Sure, I'll go ahead and interact with those fictional trans and gay characters. It sounds so nice. I'm sure I'll enjoy them enough to make up for giving money to a person who's at the forefront of the current attack on trans rights. Trans people dying in reality while she emboldens transphobes and makes it her entire online persona? That just isn't upsetting enough for me to feel repulsed by the idea of supporting this.

As far as I'm concerned, she has blood in her hands.

A theme of anti-prejudice is nice. Not compatible with the plot where you have to put down a rebellion, and not compatible with her behavior in reality.

But Rowling's world doesn't really lend itself to themes of anti-prejudice. She has:

A slave race where wanting to be free makes them weird, and if one is freed against her will, she becomes an aimless drunk. Our protagonists decorate their decapitated heads with Christmas hats. The idea of freeing them is a running joke, and the protagonist ends up a slave owner.

A werewolf community of HIV+ allegories where all but one person join the wizard Nazis. That one person ("the good one") poses a danger to innocent people more than once.

A race of greedy ruthless untrustworthy fantasy bankers, who are legally barred from having an equal place in society and shown as vicious for their attempts to fight for it, who have their cultural rules of inheritance constantly disrespected, and only have a place for their usefulness in crafting and managing the banks.

Giants who are shown as victims of wizards but also as dangerous creatures barely able to think.

Rowling doesn't understand prejudice. In her world, all the prejudiced opinions wizards have against the marginalized are correct. The slaves want to be slaves, the werewolves are dangerous, the goblins are greedy and bloodthirsty, the giants are violent and uncontrollable.

She doesn't have an issue with prejudice - as long as you're polite about it. She has an issue with outright physical violence, with rudeness and slurs, and with job discrimination. Beyond that, she doesn't care. She gets to have a surface-level message of anti-hatred because she can't come up with a villain that isn't literally Hitler.

#riki babbles #hogwarts legacy #HP #JKR

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diejager · 1 month

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Ignore this until the asks are open ( 27th 2024)

What about a hybrid! reindeer reader who is female? All reindeer have antlers, so when the Reindeer Reader comes, a lot of people thought she was a buck since they see that she's a deer, not a Reindeer. So she's constantly getting misgendered or as such, being called he/him, when corrected, called a slur by homophobic, etc...

After having enough of it of being treated differently, misgendered, and called slurs, she cut and shaved off her antlers, surprising the team since they actually liked the antlers and was sad to see it go.

-🌙

Hi 🌙 anon! I ave to unfortunately not accept this cuz if I make one exception people would start sending requests in advance, but I don’t mind giving you a few lines.

(Just to let you know, female deers/does don’t have antlers, some have been documented to have some, but that’s if they have a high count of testosterone or testosterone imbalance. Reindeers have seasonal antlers, both males and females grow them and they fall eventually.)

For people who thought you were a deer!hybrid, rather than a reindeer, you seemed like a man. So you were addressed as one, referred by he and him. While it didn’t necessarily bother you, being treated differently and harassed because they’d seen you kiss Gaz or Soap, throwing slurs and derogatory words at you for a misunderstanding born from their own lack of knowledge.

So, when the season came to an end, they naturally fell off on their own, the lack of it making you seem more feminine than when you had them, perhaps it was the imposing form of your antlers. And while they were disappointed to see them go, you had promised them that they’d grow back, a slow and itchy process, but they would be back nonetheless. Maybe bigger or smaller, but they would be as dangerous as the last pair was.

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thestobingirlie · 1 month

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This isn't just a st fandom problem, it stretches across fandom as a whole.

But I think people focus on and constantly bring up Steve's 'sins'/ asshole behaviour while ignoring everyone else's because fandom seems to consider homophobia the 'worst' kind of bigotry. They can ignore racism, sexism, ableism, but they can't excuse homophobia. They only care about any other type of bigotry if they can use it to prove a point.

They bring up Steve being homophobic for using 'queer' against Jonathan in season 1 but they ignore

The kid's, particularly Dustin and Lucas, casual ableism in s1, when they kept referring to El as 'the psycho' and talking about her escaping from Pennhurst, calling it a 'nuthouse', constantly referring to her as the weirdo or the freak

Jonathan's ableism in s2 when he refers to the kids as Will's 'spazzy friends'

Billy's misogyny, referring to the girls of Hawkins High as cows.

Billy's racism. Everything about the way he treated Lucas. Just because the actor refused to say the N word, doesn't make the character not racist. There is more to racism than just using slurs.

Jonathan's casual misogyny, the way he talks to and treats Nancy at times, especially in s1 when they're talking about the photos. And the way he talks to and treats Joyce at times.

These are just some of the examples I can think of just from the top of my head. But they all get ignored or swept under the carpet, because 'not that big of a deal.'

All bigotry is bad. But Steve is the only character that has shown a hint of bigotry and then been shown to move past it. To make amends and show that he is now accepting of it. No matter how much people try to claim that Steve accepting Robin as a lesbian isn't proof of him no longer being homophobic. As if lesbians are somehow less gay than gay men.

i think because the majority of the fandom is gay, they just… don’t really give a fuck about other forms of bigotry.

they really think that homophobia is the worst that it gets. and that homophobia really only seems to apply to gay men, because the way they treat bisexuals and lesbians is…. jarring. to say the least.

obviously the show is set in the 80s, so it’s not like the bigotry is… totally unexpected or out of place. but i don’t think it’s treated or written right within the show, and i think that’s one of the factors that makes people so comfortable with ignoring it.

steve’s homophobia is unambiguously portrayed as the wrong thing. as steve’s lowest point. the actions he has to claw his way back from. but the bigotry within other aspects of the show is just… ignored. it’s just a joke. or not that serious. the characters aren’t punished or proved wrong. (i do kinda think that’s because a lot of bigotry was inadvertent, and more reflective of the duffers as people rather than because they were trying to accurately portray an 80s society. but whatever).

steve’s homophobia being treated as the biggest bad is also kinda weird to me because it doesn’t really have… a ‘real’ target, so to speak. like, the parties ableism is directed towards el, who, while she doesn’t have a canonical disability, is developmentally behind and raised in a lab. jonathan’s misogyny is directed at nancy and joyce, his ableism is directed towards the party, and therefore dustin. billy’s racism is directed towards lucas and his misogyny is spoken to max.

whereas steve (I AM NOT CONDONING HIS ACTIONS THEY ARE WRONG!!!) calls jonathan a queer. who is not a gay man. while it’s still obviously wrong and homophobic, the target of his homophobia is not a member of the community. and yet, people treat his comment as if it’s the worst form of bigotry on the show.

they’re willing to overlook everything else. they’re willing to perpetuate lesbophobia and biphobia, racism and misogyny. they’re willing to write thousands of outing fics where the outing isn’t portrayed as wrong. but steve saying the word queer? unforgivable.

(honestly, though steve’s homophobia is the only form of bigotry that we see treated as wrong and we see a demonstration of steve’s growth later in the seasons. i don’t know if we can even give the duffers that, because robin wasn’t originally going to be a lesbian. which means the duffers were never planning on dealing with any of the bigotry in the show in a meaningful matter. but that’s a different conversation)

#i responding to this and then it deleted the whole thing and man it was painful rewriting it lmak #i’m not rewriting that lmao #steve harrington #stranger things #asks #anon

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fatphobiabusters · 1 year

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[Image ID: Text that reads “’Thin privilege’ is constantly being accused of having an ED because you’re naturally thin even though you are well within a healthy BMI and eat healthy.”]

This fatphobe has apparently blocked this blog, so I can’t reblog their post. So instead, I will write my response to their post here:

Thin privilege is having an eating disorder be cared about and not encouraged by your family, friends, doctors, and society as a whole. Thin privilege is actually being able to be considered anorexic and not labeled with “atypical anorexia” just because you’re not thin.

Thin privilege is living in a world that caters everything to your body, from clothing to exercise equipment to chairs all designed to fit you and no one bigger. Thin privilege is not having to pay extra for the same goods and services. Thin privilege is actually being seen as beautiful by general society and not being told your body is only capable of being loved as a fetish.

Thin privilege is not being constantly subjected to medical neglect. Thin privilege is a doctor actually doing tests on you to find a tumor instead of telling you to lose weight for years until someone finally listens and finds the tumor when you only have two days left to live.

Thin privilege is being represented in every single piece of media. Thin privilege is not having your body relegated to only villains, ugly characters, and characters who symbolize evil things.

Thin privilege is being able to go to the grocery store and put a melon in your cart without someone else taking it out with a “You don’t need all that sugar, I’m doing you a favor.” Thin privilege is being able to eat in public without scrutiny.

Thin privilege is not having your children taken away from you and put into the foster care system purely for their weight. Thin privilege is not being kept from adopting children because the adoption agency thinks your weight is a sign of bad parenting.

Thin privilege is automatically being viewed as healthy and thus not facing the social repercussions of the opposite. Thin privilege is having your problems taken seriously. Thin privilege is being able to go to your elementary school’s swimming lessons in 4th grade as an 8 year old instead of willingly choosing to do the written assignment to keep others from seeing your ostracized body. Thin privilege is being 5 years old and not comparing your body to your smaller friend who has the same name as you and you pretend to be twins with but know that you will never be the same as her.

Thin privilege is not being recommended to starve by every person on this planet. Thin privilege is being able to find clothes in any store and not cry in a dressing room. Thin privilege is being allowed to go trick or treating. Thin privilege is even being able to find a costume in your size to go in the first place. Thin privilege is being allowed to eat as much as you want on Thanksgiving.

Thin privilege is not being put on diets as early as 8 years old. Thin privilege is not being categorized as a disease. Thin privilege is not having the government wage a war on your body. Thin privilege is not having the first lady consider your body an epidemic and make ridding the country of you her goal during her husband’s presidency.

Thin privilege is not having everyone refer to your body with a literal slur. Thin privilege is not having the most basic word for your body type treated as a taboo insult to the point that being called that word is most people’s greatest fear.

Thin privilege is being chosen over fat people for everything. Thin privilege is not facing a wage gap for your body type. Thin privilege is not facing workplace harassment and job discrimination. Thin privilege is not being harassed in a Discord server for suggesting the developers of a supposedly diverse video game make more than one character out of thirty have your body type.

Thin privilege is everyone learning how to draw your body from the get-go and not forcing themselves to learn how to draw you years later after they’ve already learned how to draw everything else. Thin privilege is being represented in more than one of the three hundred works on someone’s art blog.

Thin privilege is being allowed to participate in society and culture. Thin privilege is not having to learn how to sew in order to have any clothes to wear. Thin privilege is not having people smaller than you take clothing in your size from a thrift store and make it into a full outfit, severely depleting the miniscule amount of clothing that poor people with your body type have available to them.

Thin privilege is being able to be successful without everyone and their mother constantly commenting on how unhealthy they think you are. Thin privilege is not having your mother put a sign that reads “Nothing tastes better than how skinny feels” on the refrigerator that you’re forced to see whenever you want to nourish your body.

Thin privilege is not having your rape dismissed by not just society but even the actual judge of your case because “You should be grateful someone wanted to have sex with a body like yours for once.” Thin privilege is getting to be the prom queen. Thin privilege is not being controversial when Disney makes a two minute animation of someone with your body type in a neutral way.

Thin privilege is actually being able to see people who look like you while you grow up who are not ridiculed or cast to the side. Thin privilege is having every aesthetic blog on Tumblr feature only your body type. Thin privilege is not having to scavenge for representation and rely on a handful of blogs to find pictures of people with your body. Thin privilege is not having to use a euphemism for your body type when searching for pictures of people like you online because not doing so will only give you bigoted and fetishistic search results.

Thin privilege is being able to have a blog that isn’t constantly followed by thinspo people so they can use you as inspiration to throw up and starve, so they can find other people like you to abuse, so they can send you hate, so they can steal your selfies to post and laugh at with their friends. Thin privilege is not being screenshot and put on the Reddit thread r/fatlogic. Thin privilege is not having documentaries made about children who look like you and how them existing is a problem. Thin privilege is people not then using those documentaries as starvation porn when they want something to watch instead of eat dinner.

Thin privilege is being able to fly on a plane. Thin privilege is being able to go on any amusement park ride and know that it was made to fit you. Thin privilege is not having to use an app to figure out if a place is accessible to you. Thin privilege is not enduring barrages of hate on YouTube for simply posting a video of you trying on clothes. Thin privilege is people making videos about your struggles and not having enormous amounts of downvotes on those videos because they “promote ob*sity.”

Thin privilege is being able to post a picture of yourself without being hassled for it by strangers, friends, and even family. Thin privilege is being able to see your parents who have your same body type not hate themselves and constantly try to make themselves smaller throughout your childhood and the rest of your life. Thin privilege is not having invasive, deadly surgeries pressured on you and oftentimes even forced on you to be able to receive actual life-saving healthcare.

Thin privilege is not having the worth of your life debated in a pandemic. Thin privilege is not having the worth of giving you an organ transplant debated. Thin privilege is not having to change your weight in order to transition because things like top surgery are not gatekept from you and your body type is seen as inherently performative of whatever gender you transition to.

Thin privilege is not being forced to top and be dominant. Thin privilege is not having your asexuality, aromanticism, and any other queer identity dismissed because “You’re only that identity because men/no one want to be with you.” Thin privilege is not being misgendered and degendered because people with your body type are seen as “real women” and are not forced into masculinity. Thin privilege is not being gatekept from even androgyny and thus not leaving you with a body that is more of a thing than a person.

Thin privilege is not fearing PE in school. Thin privilege is not being turned away from a gymnastics club because they don’t believe people with your body type are capable of doing sports. Thin privilege is having your disabilities taken seriously and being able to use a mobility aid without being ridiculed even more than other disabled people are.

And thin privilege is so much more.

-Mod Worthy

#fatphobia #thin privilege #skinny shaming #tw eating disorders #ed mention #o word #Mod Worthy

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