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merrybloomwrites · 1 year

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You Can Start a Family (Chapter 1)

Summary: During their break from Love on Tour, Mitch and Sarah make a new friend. She's spent years taking care of herself and others, nearly to the point of burnout, and they have plenty of love to share. The couple becomes a trio, and eventually a quartet after Harry finds out the truth about the relationship between Mitch, Sarah, and Y/N.

Hi everyone!! I've had this idea brewing for awhile and finally started writing it. For those who found this in the Harry Styles x Reader tag, I promise he will enter into the story later. Not to give too much away but it will eventually be the 4 of them all together privately but as 2 separate couples publicly.

I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort and all things soft, and am branching out into more spicy territory, so this should me a good mix of both. I hope you enjoy!

(yes the title is from Matilda, it's a found family story, of course the title is from Matilda!)

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Mitch and Sarah had been touring with Harry for years, and they loved every minute of it. They got to play for wonderful crowds of fans, explore new places, and meet new people while falling ever more in love.

But when Mitch’s mother, Tammy, was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo a series of surgeries, they immediately made the decision to sit out the Asia and Australia leg of tour to be with family. The doctors were very confident that they would get all of the cancer, but everyone was still nervous.

The first surgery had been a success. There were 2 days in between procedures to give Tammy time to recover. Mitch and Sarah spent plenty of time at the hospital with her to keep her company. They shared stories, played cards, even sang to her when she was dealing with pain.

On the second day post-op Mitch’s father, Mark, went to the hospital early in the day and asked for some time to be alone with his wife. Mitch and Sarah let him know that they would come in the afternoon and bring lunch for everyone. That morning they decided to walk around the neighborhood.

Mark and Tammy had moved into their house two years prior. They had sold Mitch’s childhood home in the center of town to buy a house in a quieter area. It really was a lovely street they lived on, quiet with lots of open land. Even though it was only late-February, the weather that day was mild, making for a very pleasant walk.

The residents of the neighborhood were all very friendly. Everyone Mitch and Sarah walked past shared a greeting with them which Sarah reciprocated with a cheerful good morning as Mitch politely waved.

When they were almost back at the house, they came across a young woman pushing a stroller. She looked to be in her mid-20s, and they guessed the little boy was roughly 15 months old.

Mitch and Sarah had discussed having children of their own. They always knew that they had a lot of love to share and a desire to care for someone but decided to remain child free. They felt that with their lifestyle they wouldn’t be able to give a little one their full attention.

“Good morning,” the young woman said with a smile and a slightly confused look on her face.

“Good morning,” Sarah replied before turning to the stroller to greet the toddler. As she waved to him, Mitch reached his hand out to the girl to introduce himself. “I’m Mitch, and this is my wife, Sarah.”

“I’m Y/N, I actually recognized you guys. I’m a fan of Harry Styles, and I think you both are really awesome.” Internally, Y/N was freaking out at casually bumping into two of her favorite musicians, but she was determined to remain calm and casual.

“Aw, thank you, that’s so sweet!” Sarah said. “What is your son’s name?”

“His name is Ryan, and he’s actually not mine. I’m the nanny. It’s a common mistake.” It truly was. Every time you were seen in public with Ryan people assumed he was your son. For a 26-year-old who looks so young that you still get carded every time you go to a bar, having a toddler as a companion suddenly ages you in strangers’ eyes.

“You said you’re a Harry fan, is this little one a fan as well?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, he definitely is. He loves music, and every time I put on videos of Harry, he pays close attention. Even when I put on One Direction, he’s most focused when Harry sings.”

“Have you been to any of Harry’s shows?” Mitch asked.

“Yea, I actually went to one of the Chicago shows. It was amazing! I had such a fun time. He puts on a great show, and you guys and the whole band are really talented.”

“What’s your favorite song of Harry’s?” You were about to answer Sarah’s question when Ryan started kicking and yelling.

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t love being in the stroller too long, especially if we’re not moving. I should get him home so he can run around before nap time.”

“Oh of course! It was lovely meeting you Y/N,” Sarah said as Mitch smiled and waved next to her. You waved good-bye and started walking down the driveway to Ryan’s home, noticing Sarah and Mitch walk into the house directly across the street.

Once you got back to the house, your internal freak out finally became an external freak out. “Ryan! That was Mitch and Sarah! We bumped into Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones, how crazy is that?” Ryan stared at you and you imagined he was thinking that you were the crazy one, freaking out over random people. You continued on with your day, deciding that afternoon to bake cookies for the couple. Ryan was a wonderful helper, pulling every mixing pot and utensil he could find out of the kitchen drawers to scatter all over the floor while watching you do something he’d never seen done before. You talked him through every step of the cookie baking process, thinking that every activity is a new learning adventure for the little guy.

Meanwhile, Mitch and Sarah spent a couple of hours that afternoon visiting Tammy in the hospital. She had been told the first surgery was successful and that they would move onto the next step as planned. She was also feeling better than she thought she would having just had surgery. She knew that it was going to get harder as they did the final two procedures, so she was happy to spend time with family while she was feeling up to it.

Mark had gone home for a little while and came back around 5 in the evening, sending Mitch and Sarah home so he could have dinner with his wife. They said good-bye and let her know they would be back the next morning before her second surgery.

Shortly after, Y/N finished her workday and went to drop off the cookies on her way home. She knocked on the door and a moment later Sarah answered.

“Hi! Ryan and I baked cookies today and wanted to share with you and Mitch.”

“Thank you so much! Are these snickerdoodles? Those are my favorite!”

“Yes, they’re mine too! I used my grandmother’s recipe. We used to bake them together for like, every holiday.”

Mitch walked into the entryway as you finished speaking. Sarah handed him the container saying “Look, Y/N baked us cookies. Isn’t that sweet?”

He smiled softly saying, “Thanks. Can I actually ask a favor?”

You nodded, having no idea what he would say next.

“Can you not post online about us being here? We’re here for a family matter and don’t really want anyone to know about it. Or know where we are.”

“Oh of course! I would never share where you all are. I don’t really post online at all anyway. My Tik Tok and Instagram are pretty much just of my cats.” You forced yourself to stop talking before you made your life sound incredibly sad. Because truthfully, you felt it kind of was. You had barely any friends in the area or living family members. Aside from going to work, you didn’t get out much. You spent most weekends at home with your cats reading or bingeing the same TV shows over and over again. But no one needed to know that.

“Thanks, we really appreciate it. It can be hard to have privacy sometimes and right now being home with family we really need it.”

“If there’s anything else you need just let me know! I’m right across the street most of the time and my apartment is only a few minutes from here. Have a great night you two!” They said good-bye and you got back in your car before you could say anything to make a fool of yourself. You felt you had done well so far, but you were secretly fangirling and were afraid that it was only a matter of time before something crazy slipped out of your mouth.

You hadn’t lied when you said you never posted on social media. There was no way you were spreading personal information over the internet, especially personal information about someone else. However, it was difficult to not immediately call up your best friend and tell her who you had met. You were just so excited to have interacted with Mitch and Sarah. You had been a huge fan of theirs for so long. There wasn’t much about them online, just short snippets from concerts and interviews here and there. It was hard to guess how they would be in real life, but so far, they seemed like sweet, down to earth people.

When you got back to your apartment you took a quick shower, had dinner, and decided to read some of your book. You were nervous that if you touched your phone, you’d call your friend, so you ended up going to bed quite early to avoid temptation. You fell asleep thinking back on the interactions of the day, happier than you had felt in a long time.

What you didn’t realize is that you had made an impact on Mitch and Sarah as well. After you left, they sat down to have dinner together and you became a topic of conversation.

“She seems sweet,” Sarah said.

“Yea. And calm.”

“I didn’t even guess she was a fan and recognized us at first, she was so casual.”

“Well, you were also distracted by the baby. You missed the barely contained panic on her face when we first said hi.”

“Ah so that’s why you introduced yourself. It did seem out of character for you to strike up the conversation.”

“I’m not completely socially inept Sarah, I can talk to people when I want to. I just don’t always want to.”

“I know that. I was just curious about what you saw in her that made you want to talk to her. Thought maybe it had something to do with that conversation we had a couple weeks ago. I know I thought back to it when she stopped by with the cookies. She is rather pretty.”

Mitch put down his fork and just stared at his wife for a moment. He knew exactly which conversation she was bringing up. One they had after Harry’s birthday party post Palm Springs night 2. After Harry’s birthday show the whole band and crew went to a club that had been reserved for their group. While Harry generally liked a more laid-back birthday dinner, he figured since it was also the end of the US leg of tour, they all deserved to go a little wild.

On top of their normal entourage there were a fair number of people in attendance that Mitch and Sarah didn’t recognize but assumed either knew Harry or were somehow connected through their networks. Well into the night, when everyone was feeling rather loose thanks to the alcohol in their systems, a young woman came up to the married couple. She introduced herself as Colleen, and let them know that if they were interested, she would be more than happy to please them both. They were startled by how forward she was, and immediately, but politely, turned her down. Once she walked away, they shared a surprised look.

After getting back to their hotel, Sarah brought up the interaction suddenly while getting ready for bed. “Maybe we should’ve said yes.”

“Said yes to what?” Mitch asked, slipping out of his jeans and throwing them on top of his shirt that was already piled on the floor.

“Said yes to that girl.”

“What girl?” Drunk Mitch wasn’t always the best at paying attention enough to store conversations in his memory.

“Colleen. You know, the one who offered the three way.”

“Oh.” Mitch joined his wife in the bathroom so he could see her while they had this conversation. “Is that something that you would want?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Obviously, it’s not something I need. You keep me more than satisfied, so this isn’t about anything being missing. But you know I’ve always been interested in experimenting with a girl.”

“I still can’t believe you spent years touring with bands and never once hooked up with a girl.”

“Yes well, I was focused on work at the time. It just didn’t seem all that important.”

“But now you’re interested in the possibility again?”

“Part of me feels like I want to have that experience, even just once. I mean I know you’ve experimented with boys. You and Harry had your fling in Jamaica.” Mitch smiled thinking back to the writing trip they took when working on the first album, before the touring band had been brought together and he met Sarah.

“Alright. Maybe we’ll meet someone who’s a good fit for us to branch out a little and have some fun. But right now, I am drunk and exhausted so let’s get some sleep and talk about this again when we’re more coherent.”

They didn’t talk about it the next morning as they dealt with their hangovers, nor did it come up in the following weeks. Not until Sarah casually mentioned it at Mitch’s parents’ kitchen table on a random Wednesday in February. Just as Mitch was about to reply his father walked in, effectively cutting off the conversation. But now it was on top of both their minds, surely not to be forgotten for weeks once again.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Chapter 2 is posted here!

If there are any specific scenarios you want to see with this dynamic let me know and I'll try to work them in! I might do some blurbs outside of the main story as well.

Hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback!! (or if you find a typo, feel free to point it out!)

#sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x reader #harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles

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adorastarot · 10 months

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🌙Master post

Hi everyone! My name is Adora and I'm 26 years old! Welcome to my blog and thank you so much for being here! I have been thinking about this for a long time and it's finally happening!

I am a tarot reader for a living and have been an ARMY for a few years and decided to bring my two passions together!

This will be the masterlist for my future posts (although it may change overtime)

🌙Rules for asks:

I only do free BTS readings, you can ask any questions you would like, but it is up to my discretion if I and the members are comfortable answering.

For personal readings & to donate please head over to my Ko-fi:

Readings available for purchase (delivered within 24hrs)

Some previously done BTS & YOU readings (shared with permission & name changed for privacy reasons)

🌙Masterlist

💕Ko-Fi Membership readings Masterlist

PAC Readings

Message for you from the cards

Message for you from BTS

BTS

FS' as coffee

Will BTS be their fs' first partners?

Yoongi, Namjoon & Jungkook's FS energy check (01/08)

How fans will react to fs' appearance

Do V's & JK's FS have a connection?

Supermoon's influence on BTS [30/08/23]

Random facts about the FS' [part 1]

Energy check on the FS [27/08/23]

Namjoon

What Namjoon is looking for in a partner & marriage

When will Namjoon meet his fs?

A message from Namjoon for his FS

Will Namjoon and fs connect straight away?

How does Namjoon's family feel about the fs?

How will Namjoon's fs' family think/feel about Joon?

How will BTS react to Joon's fs?

Yoongi

Yoongi's message and advice for his FS

Yoongi's message for fs part 2

FS message to Yoongi

Yoongi & FS first meeting

Yoongi and fs energy towards each other (30/07)

Yoongi & fs saga continues - after their meeting

How Yoongi & fs will solve arguments

Yoongi's karmic lessons

How did Yoongi's FS find out they were the one?

When will Yoongi and his fs meet?

Did Yoongi's fs watch D-DAY?

Yoongi & fs purpose

Is Yoongi's fs foreign?

How will Yoongi take care of his pregnant partner?

How will Yoongi act when jealous?

Yoongi's fs relationship with the members

Yoongi & fs meeting - updated

Yoongi's path to his fs

Yoongi's family reaction to fs

How is Yoongi's fs doing [31/08/23]

Is Yoongi's fs a celebrity?

How will BTS react to Yoongi's fs?

Hoseok

Hobi & FS attraction

Hobi's message and advice for his FS

Jimin

Jimin's message for his fs

Jimin's fs energy check

Jimin & FS meeting

Have Jimin & FS met?

Jimin's path to his fs

Does Jimin know anything about his fs?

How will Jimin care for his pregnant partner?

Taehyung

V's Album Theme & Current Energy

V's message and advice for his FS

How will V realise he has fallen for his fs

V's current love life (31/07)

How would V treat his pregnant partner?

Jungkook

Jungkook's Album - Concept & Sound

Message/Advice for JK's FS

Jungkook's love life

When will Jungkook meet his fs?

Jungkook & FS attraction

Jungkook's message and advice for his FS

Jungkook's first date with FS

The future of JK's lives

JK & cooking for the fs

How will JK and his fs solve relationship problems

Will Jk and his fs be an on and off couple

When will Jungkook realise he is falling for his fs

Does JK's fs know they are his fs?

Is Jungkook's fs foreign?

Jungkook's fs career

Is Jungkook's fs rich?

Jungkook & fs - purpose

Jungkook's fs message for him

Will Jungkook's parents like his fs?

Is Jungkook dating right now?

How will Jungkook take care of his pregnant partner?

Who will cook more? Jk or the fs?

Why is JK's fs special?

Does JK's fs know about the tarot readings?

JK's fs & Travel

Jungkook's path to fs

JK's family's view of the fs

How will Jungkook's fs take care of him?

Who in BTS will JK's fs get along with the most?

Jungkook's EX & FSo

What will JK's brother think about the fs?

#kpop tarot #bts tarot #hi everyone #bts ask #jin tarot #rm tarot #yoongi tarot #hoseok tarot #v tarot #jimin tarot #jungkook tarot

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alienatedtsuki · 8 months

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Dom!Naruto/Sub!Sasuke [Kinktober 2023 Part I]

It's Kinktober, baby! I am not creating anything but recommendations, so let's go. I want to start with one of my favourite tropes in the smut for this pairing, this being - Master/Pet | Dom!Naruto/Sub!Sasuke.

Cumslut by pedosoka Naruto and Sasuke didn't show up for training, and Sakura and Ino go see if everything is okay with their precious Sasuke-kun. Or, Sakura, Ino, and Sai walk in on Sasuke, getting his back blown out by Naruto and his shadow clones. - You read this summary right. There is all I love: Sakura bashing, the use of shadow clones(I probably should add it to my "Oh, how useful are these shadow clones" post), and the Master/pet dymanic. NaruSasu | Master Naruto | pet Sasuke | Sakura bashing | accidental voyeurism | orgy | Naruto uses Shadow Clones | Saying "I love you" is hot | Canon AU (3,237)

Sasuke and his sexual dream Naruto by Skyheaven @0skyheaven0 This is a fantastic trilogy of relationship development between our boys, where Naruto is top and Sasuke is bottom. They investigate the darker side of Naruto in the last fic with full-blown Dom!Naruto and Sub!Sasuke. They are deeply in love with each other, so Porn With Feelings.

Take my virginity away by Skyheaven @0skyheaven0 Growing up in a homophobic household, Sasuke never got to experience any romantic or sexual connection. Now that he's an adult, he's afraid no one would want a complete virgin like him. Through an app he finally meet someone who sparks his interest and agrees to rid Sasuke of his cursed virginity to give him the courage to start his real life, his sex life. Shock hits him though when on the other side of the door stands no one other than his old classmate and rival Naruto. - Sasuke is 26 years old, gay and virgin. He wants to get rid of his virginity, and fate gives him Naruto to be his first. As I mentioned earlier, this is NaruSasu only. There are mentions of the use of toys. Basically, this fic is quality first-time fanfic. (Consent is hot as hell.) NaruSasu | First time | light Dom/Sub | Cum eating | light Spanking | Fluff and Smut | Porn With Feelings | Modern AU (15,730)

Steal all that I am by Skyheaven @0skyheaven0 Three times that Naruto stole Sasuke's control over his own body, turning him into a horny, submissive, dirty mouth and three times Naruto stole Sasuke's heart, making him stronger, weaker and a whole lot happier. - It's a fantastic continuation of the first fic with a deep dive into their relationship with amazing smut (they delve deeper into their kinks). NaruSasu | moderate Dom/Sub | Cum eating | Spanking | Rimming | Dildos | Fluff and Smut | Porn With Feelings | Modern AU (12,953)

Tonight I'm yours by Skyheaven @0skyheaven0 Sasuke is devastated from an explosive meet with his homophobic parents. Luckily, his boyfriend Naruto shows him his bag of toys to improve the mood. - Full-blown Dom!Naruto/Sub!Sasuke play, healthy BDSM relationship. Naruto is so passionate in this role, and Sasuke submits so beautifully for details read the tags. (I love the part where Sasuke is coming out, and this isn't a fairy tale but a harsh reality and how Naruto helps Sasuke to process his feelings. I will focus on these smut rec posts, mostly on smut reviews. I am sorry if I don't describe the plot that much.) NaruSasu | Dom/Sub | Rough Sex | Bondage | Face-Fucking | Nipple Play | Rimming | Sex Toys | Dildos | Size Kink | Spanking | Creampie | Fisting | Fluff and Smut | Porn With Feelings | Modern AU (15,202)

Enough by IvvyMoon (blue_jack) What lengths will Naruto go to in order to give Sasuke what he needs? - This author is a master, no pun intended, in writing Sub/Dom smut. This is just exceptional. There are so many complicated feelings in this session, but how full of passion this is... It's just a must-read for this smut section. Also, check out the Master/pet NOT finished fic Sasuke, My Pet. NaruSasu | Dom/Sub | public Blow Jobs | Sex Toys | Impact Play | Nipple Play | Spanking | Blindfolds | Porn With Feelings | Angst | Modern AU (11,345)

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nwarrior777 · 11 months

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i was a bad person and here is my big message about it

even tumblr couldn't hold this much of a post so i made it under the cut. well. i was trying to write it for YEARS sooo i guess it's a little hard to squish in something small

i am frightened of seeing your reaction on this post but. it needs to be made. i wanted to make it for years. if not now then when?

long story about one fundamental thing i deeply regret and want to leave in the past and move on, and today is the perfect time to talk about it.

so. as i told, yesterday was my 26 birthday. and it was a special one. cause i gave it concept

26 years. 25+1. for me it means that half of my life is behind me. (maybe 1/3 if i will be lucky). i decided my 26 birthday will be beginning of my new era. i will leave my past behind and will go into my. present.

the problem is that my past is soooo fucked up

i did a lot of cringe bad things, WHICH I DEEPLY REGRET ABOUT but i want to tell you about one, which is haunting me the most. i thought about writing post about it sooo much times, i tried, but i couldn't do it everytime because then i thought about it i felt soooo ashamed and just burning in selfhate so what's the thing and why exactly this thing I want to tell you about above all of the things which i regret? well because now i am totally opposite person to that mindset which i am ashamed of so! pls keep in mind that i REGRET having that mindset. i think i realized that it's something not good in my 19 years old (my 19 years old is my turning point in life in general), now i am one day 26, but it's still was hunting me!!! 6 fucking years of constant shame and hating myself!!! at this moment i got rid of this thing in my mind and actions completely, and i want to put the final nail in the coffin by this post. so!!! i.. H A D (NOW I DON’T!!!)... fat fetish :c ( * internal screaming full of fear, selfhate and realising that i can hurt someone's feeling by that * ) i almost always had complicated relationships with fatness. first anorexia, but, at the same time then i hated my body i realized that i find fat people beautiful, hot even? (mostly masculine dudes? i don't remember that i thought about others?). and then i got into my horny ~18 yeaaars and ehhhh i was exploring my horny feelings and preferences. i was deep diving in that fat fetish content, i even made sooome drawings (I think I posted, ~2 on internet AND I HATE THE FACT THAT THEY EXIST SO MUCH). and. next thing will sound naive. but. people who do bad things are always dumb and don't realize basic shit. so. i haven't seen anything bad in fat fetish. and at this time i already had my own moral compass, which i still have AND it helped me get out of this my moral compass: if it hurts someone - it's bad. if not – then it’s fine. and my depiction of fat fetish was reversed in my head. i thought that people participating in it.. feeling sexy and validated? that it's something powerful (I DON'T THINK THIS WAY NOW!) but then i saw one post

it was a person, saying, that they saw a content with fetishization of their appearance and they felt uncomfortable and humiliated by it

and i was like "wait what??? fetishes make people sad??? IT SOMETHING WHAT HURTS SOMEONE??? It's!!! It's... a bad thing!!!"

and i think since then i started to go away from it?

and it's not a second, day or month. you know that getting rid of cigarettes is hard and takes time, right? imagine how hard and how much time will take getting away from moral mindset mistake

if you do something bad it usually means that it is deep in your life

it's hard to go away from people with same mindset, your actions in the past which you thought was fine are now your shame etc etc

but!!! i've been working on myself. i don't want to hurt people, and yeah, hurting someone's feelings counts too.

sooo time was going by and it was less and less fetish content in my corner of internet. i realized that fetish is NOT something powerful and cool or sexy. representation is!!! you can draw gorgeous powerful sexy person without fetishization. actually people on fetish art... well, sometimes they don't even look like people. more like fucked up sex toys. it's so wrong, so bad and i am so ashamed that at some point of my life i thought it's something not awful

then i got into art community, more queer and bodypositive, i learned how to love my body, accepted it at 100% beat the fuck up anorexia. my feed in all the social media are now queer/bodypositive/artists usually all at once. if i see fetish blog reblogging me (i can't check every one but sometimes it happens) i ban it and

and now i don't watch any fetish content, don't have fantasies or dreams about that. now even if i see some content by accident (then you are in internet, you sometimes see shit which you don't want to see, like idk, some fetish blog relogging my art) it makes me feel uncomfortable and i don't turn on at all.

it was the last thing of this to defeat - physical desire. It’s like addiction, sometimes i wanted to watch Fetish Horny Content sooooo bad that it literally was on physicall level, and i just, well, watched and blamed myself for that after

and here is a little strange part, because one day it just... disappeared? with all my libido. aand honestly, it's fine, maybe i can't get turn on at all, but better not feeling libido at all then having it and having this shit in the head. aaaand also i have kiinda same emotions from... art. like cool art. in general. like, show me a good dramatical movie, some cool music, some touching piece of art, cool fucking made edit - i am shivering and crying tears of joy. i have this sooo, yep, it's enough for me, and i can survive loosing libido, if it's price for taking fetish from my head - shut up and take my... libido (okay that part turn out kinda goofy but like, let’s take it as lightning the mood because all the post is some fucked up dark shit)

so yeah. long story short, i was a cringe bad person and i regret that. i've done many cringe things but i decided to tell you exactly about this one because it is fundamental thing in my life and, as you can see, my art

as you could notice, all my characters are fat. and i am trying my best to draw them respectfully. goal of my life is trying to be good person (trying because you can never be sure that you are 100% right. you need to listen people and be ready to change. it's never ending road. what's why i use word "trying". you can't "be" good. only try) goal of my art is to bring people happiness by art, and representation is my method.

i feel very ashamed of that fact that i was participated in phenomen like fat fetish and now i make opposite thing - draw art, based on representation of fat people (and also queer and having other features but this post is not about that)

aaand yeah, sounds not very nice

but... i just hope that you can see that i am drawing fat people with respect. yes, a lot of time my characters presented as sexy. but i am trying to draw fat characters sexiness in respectful way. i've seen fetish art - and i am trying to draw NOT like that.

i learned my lesson. i don't want EVER draw fetish art again. i want!!! draw good things which brings people joy. i deeply sorry for that fetish thing was in my mind. but it's gone. I fought it in me for years, i won, fuck this thing. i want this thing stay in the past!!!!!

and brain, stop fucking hunting me with "whEn thEy wIll KnoW thEy Will Be All DissApoinTed in YoU!! ALL YOUR ART INFLUENCE WILL ZERO OUT THEN PEOPLE WILL FIND OUT!!!" these thoughts were been killing me for YEARS

i am deeply ashamed of having fat fetish phaze. but it's over. i learned that it's bad, i don't want to have it in my life ever again. and i don't want my drawings of fat people be part of it. i do it for different reason - to make representative art, which bring people joy, not hurting them.

i was carry this self-fight for years. and this day, my 26 birthday, seems like perfect day to finally leave this shit in the past and move on. i mean, i realised that it's a bad thing ~5-6 years ago. but my brain didn't let go thoughts about that. i am done with this. i want to break free from this shame. i hope i can have a second chance on that...

i really hope that you guys will be able to get joy from my art after that. i got rid of this shit in my mind, i promise. just. please don't turn back from me because because of this mistake. if you can.

(pls, if you have words of support, leave a comment. idea of this post was hunting me for years, and now it finally written. it's finally out of my chest. i want to get free from this. thank you)

#sorry if the thing turned out messy #last parts are the most messy i guess #but i hope #it have. like. meaning #i want to get this skeleton out my closet #i was writing this all day #there was a moment then i thought i delited the note on the phone with this by accident in the evening #then i was almost done #and i was so furious #but no i just get it in archive or smth #anyway #i am just dumping the info now #i need to sleep #pressing “post” button and going to bed #eh #i feel so shitty #ehhhhh #but. some day i had to make this post

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jekyllnahyena · 2 years

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Me? Making a new oc??? bish who u think i am, course i would!

Meet Bushra Nibira! A very tired, 26 years old nurse currently working in the admission ward of a psychiatry on Coruscant. She’s on a waiting list for one of Coruscant’s most esteemed medical schools, in which she actually wants to get into so that she can stay close to her grandma’s. She’s sorta taking care of them as her last, close family (She loves both of them a lot :D) She meets Fox after going out with some friends because she found the commander in a pretty bad shape in some back alley. She gave her medical first aid and sat by her side till Fox’ people/friends got around and stayed in contact via Riyo.

She’s currently trying to juggle her family, her not well paying job, all her friends and is probably one of the few people in star wars kinda grounded in reality. She might worry a lot (partly because her new friends all seem a good bit insane, she has told them so) but is absolutely laser focused in stress situations. Also, a lot buffer than one would think. She’s gotten into a few physical altercations on her job and decided to get stronger to feel safer. Also also, 1.92 m tall without heels.

Bushra is kinda overwhelmed by exactly who she just made friends with and is accidentally sorta the reason the group realised that Palps is not just evil, but sith evil because she went full on research for Fox’ lightning scars.

She and Fox don’t get together for quite a while, because both aren’t really in a mindset/mental health/have that much time for any relationships, and kinda worked on themselves first. Fox has, ironically, gotten a lot better with the realtionships she has in the group and it’s someting the two of them talk about quite often. They become pretty good supports for each other.

They are adorable when they finally go out together though. Fox was very nervous. She’s never really done dating before (more a ‘one night stand and then fucking running’ person). Neither has Bushra, but she’s better at working through it. Btw, she thinks that Fox is extremely adorable when they’re holding hands. Bushra is a good head and more taller than Fox and might sometimes just wanna lift her up. It’s great >:)

#bushra nibira #commander fox #me making oc for health n happiness thank u very much #she and thire are the only ones that can competentely cook without burning down the fucking kitchen btw #the whole group. as in guard commando and riyo. are a fuckin fire hazard on their best day #planning murder? fuck yeah! cooking together without destroying stuff? start praying #bushra really needs a lot of naps #a lot of hugs #and some very bad movies #shes gonna get them <3 #ajekyllsart #sw oc

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cowboyjen68 · 2 years

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Hi Jen.

I hope you're well. I was hoping you can possibly give me some general life advice?

I have the possibility to finally move away from home and live with a friend I've known for 8 years (I am 26). My homelife is allright and my dad is accepting of my sexuality but mildly transphobic to the point where I'm not out and don't feel comfortable bringing it up.

I have saved up a sum of money (above 5k) to fund this move but the only problem is I don't currently have a steady job. (I've freelanced for the past 3 but it's not enough to cover rent)

We'd be sharing the apartment and to get it I need to be on the lease. The idea of signing for something without steady income to cover it makes the alarm bells go off in my head. Me and my friend have discussed this and she assured me that she would cover the rent completely until I actually move in/find steady employment (her current apartment costs the same). We've also discussed what would happen if she were no longer able to afford the place and the full responsibility would fall on me, but she doesn't see that happening as she has her family to fall back on for that if she was suddenly unfit to work.

Am I right to still be wary? Should I just go along and sign the lease even though I'm really scared of the possible consequences? Should I just stop overthinking this and just enjoy this really good thing that's about to happen??

please let me know what you think

As a parent of several 25 year olds (3) and as a former 26 year old (long ago) I would say it is time to move out and try life as an independent adult. It sounds like you have a decent relationship with your parent(s) so if things went terribly wrong you would have a place to land.

There is never any guaranty in life that a roommate situation or even a living alone rental situation will go smoothly or as planned. It is almost a sure thing you and her will have to navigate some unforeseen incompatibilities or iron out some quirks to make cohabiting comfortable for both of you. It is part of life to learn how to negotiate needs and boundaries with other people. It starts as we become teens with our parents and then, for me, college roommates and then apartment living with 5 gay guys in the very early 90's.

I think you will find that the move to share rental space and responsibility will be mutually beneficial to both of you. It is best to not be financially reliant on each other, basically, with a short grace period to get moved and your feet under you, you should work to pay your fair share. It is a great idea that in the interim while you seek gainful employment you use the extra time to give a little more effort to the household. Extra cleaning, errands, cooking is a way to show you appreciate the short reprieve from being a full financial partner while you get settled.

Having a roommate can mean learning to negotiate what is fair in payment, cleaning, and other responsibilities but it is also nice to have someone around. Having a sound relationship with a roommate means a built in support. She gives you a ride when the bus won't do and you give her gas money. When she wants to travel for a few days you are keeping the house safe, watering plants and bringing in the mail. When one of you is sick the other can pick up some of the cleaning slack until recovery.

When I rented my first place with those 5 men I had just started a new job, fresh from my undergrad and going to grad school. I paid my fair share and contributed by cleaning the kitchen and shoveling the drive during snowy times. When I lost my first job I only had enough money saved for half the rent. I was not instantly homeless because my roommates picked up my share and in turn I did some extra errands and cleaning for the house. I worked VERY hard to get a new job and did after two weeks. I often wanted to quit that flower shop job but did not because I LIKED the independence and I enjoyed not owing anyone anything.

I believe you will find that moving on your own will give you much more drive to find a job with consistent earnings. It feels good to feel stable and be an equal contributor. Having your name on the lease insures you have some skin in the game. It ensures that you ARE accountable to pay your part AND save for future mishaps. If two people are working together to make living more affordable it is a wonderful partnership.

This world is not build for single income independent living. It has not been as long as I have been alive (54 years) and perhaps never has been. Mutually shared space and financial responsibility is a long standing survival tactic. And learning to communicate and navigate in such situations is a beneficial skill.

#roommates #sharing space #independence

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pillbug-armor · 4 months

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Professor x Student slow burn

8k words

summary: When Professor Jonathan Holbrook meets his new TA, Emma Morgan, he is struck by her magnetic, charming personality. Before long, he finds himself drawn to her in ways that violate every rule of professionalism in the book. When they find themselves alone in his office after a long semester together, Jonathan finds that his resolve is not as unbreakable as he would hope...

cw: age difference (legal), prof-student relationship, protected seggsual activity, p in v, unequal power dynamics

original characters, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

this is a pretty slow burn, with full consent from both characters bc i think it's important also find it really hot. Also has a bit of a softer feel, the characters like each other a lot/have a relationship outside of the seggs. hope you like it, bc i had a great time writing it! also if you are a compsci nerd this one goes out ya'll bc holbrook is a data science professor haha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first day of a semester was always simmering with energy. Professor Jonathan Holbrook was still getting used to the fact that it was his job to capture and direct the attention of an entire lecture hall full of early twenty-somethings.

He looked at the clock on his computer screen: 9:26 AM. In four minutes, he wouldn’t be Jonathan, the newly 30 year old man who had struggled to drag himself out of bed two hours earlier with a sore neck. He would be Professor Holbrook, sharp, alert, assertive, ready to share his passion for data science with approximately 250 people who may or may not feel the same.

Absent-mindedly, he tipped his chair back and forth, bracing one foot against the podium from which he’d soon be delivering an icebreaking personal introduction.

“Professor Holbrook?”

With a slight jerk, he righted his chair. A student was standing in front of him.

Shaking her hand, he replied, “Yes, that’s me.”

Her grip was as firm and assured as her voice. She smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Emma. Emma Morgan. I’m your TA for this semester.”

“Emma! It’s great to finally put a face to your name. Would you want to sit up here? Or would you rather sit with the students?” He noticed that she had curly brown hair and freckles, neither of which had been apparent in her tiny email profile photo.

She turned to look out at the lecture hall. “I think I’d like to sit with the students. I mean, I feel more like a student than anything else.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she walked over to a seat in the front row and set her backpack down.

Jonathan nodded, then glanced at his laptop again. 9:29 AM. He turned back towards Emma, who was looking at him with a slight furrow in her brow.

“You ready for the semester, Emma?”

Her face relaxed, and her brown eyes met his. “Ready as I can be, I guess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Professor Holbrook”.

Jonathan looked up from the email he had been typing. “Hi Emma. You don’t have to call me Professor Holbrook, by the way. You can just call me Jonathan.”

Shrugging her backpack off her shoulders, she replied, “If you say so. Where do you want me to sit?” In the current emptiness of his office, her purple and blue striped shirt was the only pop of color.

Hastily, he reached out and pulled a chair up next to his own. “Here’s fine. And would you mind closing the door before you sit down?”

She shut the door gently, sat down, and turned to face him, legs crossed at the ankle. He pushed up his sleeves and turned to grab his planner. As he was about to ask Emma how her morning was going, he noticed her gaze had settled on his forearm.

Almost as quickly as he’d noticed, she flicked her eyes back up at him. Her mouth opened slightly, soundlessly, before she said, “Sorry. Uh, I like your tattoos. Is that a parakeet?”

“Yeah, it’s a blue winged parakeet. I had one as a kid and it was my favorite pet of all time.”

She smiled, crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and set them in her lap. She ran a hand through her hair, then said, “That’s cool. Birds are my favorite animals.” For a second longer, she held his gaze, then she looked down, waiting for him to continue.

Her nervousness was making him slightly nervous as well. He laughed politely, then said, “So anyways. Let me give you the rundown of how recitation is going to work. Then, we can discuss when you’d like to have your office hours, and anything else you have questions about.”

This first weekly meeting went by smoothly. Jonathan found that he did most of the talking; Emma rarely interrupted him to ask questions. She took notes in a somewhat battered, plain notebook, writing unhurriedly. Her hands were delicate, nails perfectly painted a light shade of pink.

As their meeting came to a close, Jonathan said, “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused, then said, “Do you have any for me?”

He thought for a brief moment. “How has your first week back on campus been, Emma?”

She blinked at him, then said “Good. I mean senior year is going to be super busy, but I’m really glad that I get to see all my friends all the time.”

He replied, “Well, that’s good. I’m thankful to have you as a TA. You seem very organized and on top of it.”

At this, she laughed. “Don’t be fooled by the notebook, Jonathan.” He found himself smiling as she said, “I actually have no idea what’s on most of these pages”.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked the time, then said, “I have to go to my next class. I’ll see you in lecture tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

She stood, threw her backpack over one shoulder, then turned and walked into the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aaaaand voila. Ok, if you’ve been following along, you’ll see that the output of this function should match the correlation coefficient given in the answer key.”

By now, a month into the semester, Jonathan had eased back into the swing of lecturing. He felt he’d established a good rapport with his students; a decent number of them even showed up to office hours.

He hit the Enter key to run the code cell he’d just written, only to be shown a red “error” message. A murmur broke out through the lecture hall.

He sighed, then said, “Don’t panic guys, this is only the 8th time this has happened this week.” He scrolled to the top of the cell, combing through the lines to find his mistake.

“Jonathan.”

He looked up, and saw that Emma had raised her hand. “What’s up?”

She grinned mischievously, then said, “You spelled “scipy” wrong at the top. Like where you include the libraries.”

He made a show of scrolling very slowly back to the top of the cell, and saw that she was correct.

The students laughed, and he laughed with them. He raised his hands in defeat and said, “I’m a computer guy, not an English major.”

As the noise died down, Emma said, “You do know that “python” starts with “p-y” right? Not “p-i.”

He shot back, “Emma. You double indented like 7 lines in a for loop last week and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with your code.” As he spoke, he moved to the front of the podium so he was standing in front of her.

In mock outrage, she put a hand on her chest. “That’s because I was using your stupid new IDE that runs on GitHub Copilot”.

As he stepped closer to her chair, she bent her neck to look up at him. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Let us know when you’re ready to leave the stone age and join us in 2023.”

He was acutely aware that everyone in the classroom was looking at them, as their banter had become a regular occurrence in every lecture.

She raised a hand to the side of her neck and took a breath in. He saw the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hand brushed the smooth, soft, skin of her jaw.

After a beat, she extended her hand towards him. He stepped even closer to her, and grasped her hand in his. He swore he could feel her pulse in her fingers.

She shook his hand, then said, “I’ll send a smoke signal to your iPhone.”

He grinned as the class laughed, and stepped back behind the podium. As he continued on with his lecture, his gaze kept falling on Emma, and the soft smile that never left her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:30 AM was too early to be on campus by any metric. Yawning unabashedly, Jonathan walked towards the undergraduate lounge, the only room with an espresso machine in the engineering building. He couldn’t wait for a shot of raw caffeine to jolt him awake.

When he pulled open the door, he was surprised to see Emma there, sitting on the sofa, laptop perched on one thigh.

She looked up at him briefly. “Hey.”

He blinked. “What are you doing here so early?”

Her fingers brushed the touchpad of her machine as she said, “I have interview grading downstairs in like 20 minutes, and I figured I’d get here a bit early to add some final comments to my code.”

Jonathan leaned one hand against the table, then said, “What’s the project?”

She grimaced, then replied, “It’s an optimization lab.”

“Hmm.” He thought for a second. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“Sure,” Emma said.

At the same time that he moved to sit on the couch, she stood to place her laptop on the table. Jonathan froze. Emma was still, both hands clutching her laptop, eyes shifting to the side. After a beat, he said, “Let’s just sit on the couch, you were already there anyways.”

Nodding, she sat back down. He took a seat next to her.

Without looking at him, she went back to scrolling. She brushed a few curls away from her face as she explained her code to him.

As Jonathan gave his feedback, he noticed, for the first time, the light brown, almost shimmery hair on her forearms, and that she had a thin gold chain around her neck, the small pendant resting against the junction of her collarbone and her throat. Her white sneakers were scuffed, and she had purple ankle socks on. Suddenly, he was very aware that his thighs were only a few inches away from hers, and that he could see the outline, the shape of her crossed legs through her blue jeans.

He folded his hands in his lap, looked over at Emma, and asked her why she had written a particular line of code with recursion instead of a loop.

She smiled and nodded, pointing at the line of code he’d referred to. She had a perfect cupid’s bow, and her teeth were rounded and had slight gaps in between them.

Jonathan’s mouth felt dry. He cleared his throat and said, “I think you’ll be fine. There are a couple places where a little restructuring could make the code run even faster, but honestly at that point it’s diminishing returns, you know?”

Emma’s gaze met his, and he was momentarily struck by the warmth in her brown eyes, despite the tired, purplish shadow that lay beneath each one. She yawned, and Jonathan almost looked away, but he didn’t, instead noticing the way her head tipped back, exposing the skin under her jaw, the way her tongue rested against her bottom teeth.

She closed her laptop and slid it into her backpack. Jonathan blinked, feeling like some charge in the air had just vanished.

“Thanks for the feedback, Jonathan. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out.”

He nodded, and said, “Anytime. You can always Slack me if you have questions about this kind of thing.”

She got up, and moved so she was standing directly in front of him. His knees were directly across from hers. she said, “I’ll let you know how interview grading goes. See you later, in lecture.”

“Sounds good,” He replied. She left the room, and for a few seconds, Jonathan stayed on the couch, not moving.

He couldn’t believe that he’d thought to himself that, if he’d just reached out, he could have slid his hands under her t-shirt and onto the soft curves of her waist, and pulled her down until she was sitting on his lap.

Uneasily, he looked around. Nobody was there. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if people could see his thoughts anyways.

It was going to be fine. It was just a fleeting thought, and, of course, Emma was beautiful. Anyone could see that. He was sure his mind wouldn’t betray him like that again.

He got up, made his espresso, and went back to his office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the next few weeks went by, Jonathan was starting to think that maybe he should request a different TA for the next semester. Emma was extremely helpful to him, always attentive to student’s questions in lecture, always completing tasks he asked of her on time. She was never late to a weekly meeting, and she was smart and funny to boot.

But. Ever since running into her that early morning in the undergraduate lounge, his thoughts had become more and more intrusive. Rationally, he knew that the more he tried not to think them, the more they would take over his mind, but he couldn’t help it. Some kind of floodgate had opened, and he was powerless to stop the contents of his imagination from bursting through.

During lecture, they bantered and conversed as usual in front of the class, and he was starting to feel like the student’s eyes were too much. Surely, every time he spoke to Emma, every time he walked out from behind the podium to stand in front of her seat, they could see that he was drawn to her like a magnet. Surely they could see that his eyes flickered to her lips, her hands, the delicate lines of her chest visible through her clothes. Surely they had noticed that he smiled every time she smiled, that he was inventing excuses to tease her and get her attention as he spoke.

Emma was a student, a good student. It was completely unfair to her that his wayward thoughts threatened the professionalism of their interactions.

But he couldn’t help it. When they had their weekly meetings, where it was just the two of them in his office behind a closed door for 30 whole minutes, he was overtaken by thoughts of what they could be doing instead of discussing curricular materials. He felt like he was gripping onto a mask of normalcy, struggling not to let even a hint of these imaginings show on his face when she was there.

But when she left, and the door to his office closed, he would lean back in his chair, and his mind’s eye would open, hungry for something he could never see. He had given up trying to restrain it.

He could see himself asking her how she was doing, how she was really doing. She would sigh and tell him that senior year was stressful, that she was struggling to figure out her next steps post undergrad. He would place his hands on hers, tell her that she had nothing to worry about, that she was so smart and capable that he was sure she would find her way. She would look into his eyes, the warm, melty brown color blooming in his vision, and she would incline her head towards his. He would lean in, breathe in the clean scent of her skin, brush his lips against her jaw, her neck, lace his fingers through the soft curls of her hair. He could see her breath quickening, her eyes closing, her fingers tightening their grip on his. He could hear the way she would try not to make a sound.

He could make her feel so good, he knew he could. He knew his hands could wrap around her waist, support the weight of her body if he held her close. He wondered what she had experienced in the past, if anyone else had touched and caressed and kissed and tasted her in the ways that he couldn’t stop imagining.

He also knew that none of this could or would happen. It was probably in their best interest that he found a new TA for the next semester. He dreaded having to tell Emma this, knowing that she couldn’t know the true reason for his request. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last day of the semester before winter break had arrived. All day, Jonathan had been helping to run the fall undergraduate showcase, where top students from various engineering disciplines displayed projects that they had worked on this year in class. Some highlights had been a web app that summarized terms and conditions, a working smartwatch prototype meant to help remind people to take medications, and a 3d printed fully articulating human hand with working motors that could theoretically be modified into a prosthetic limb.

He checked his phone. 9:00pm. All that was left to do was fold up the last few tables and chairs, put them to the side of the engineering lobby for the cleaning crew to put into storage, and then finally, he could go home for the night.

“Hey, is there anything else you need help with?” Emma’s voice brought his attention back to the tasks at hand.

“If you just wanna fold up those chairs over there and put them on that rack over there, that would be great.”

He watched her walk away. For a second, he braced his forehead with his fingertips, and suppressed a sigh.

He still hadn’t told Emma that he was going to be requesting a new TA for the upcoming semester. At this point, he was going to have to send her an email over break. Maybe it was better that way. Simple and quick. Impersonal. Professional.

Even now, he had to measure his actions around her. It was starting to become unbearable, being near her and being unable to give substance to the thoughts that had been plaguing him.

Another faculty member caught his eye and waved. “I’m gonna head out. Have a good break!”

He smiled tersely and waved back. His eyes surveyed the lobby, and he found that it had been tidied up satisfactorily.

“Emma.” He called her name. She turned to look at him. “I think we’re good on cleanup. You wanna come up to my office with me to grab your stuff?”

She nodded. “Sure. It’s getting late.”

Side by side, they walked down a long hallway, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. After climbing a stairwell and turning a corner, Jonathan rummaged in his pocket for a key, unlocked the door to his office, and flicked on a light switch.

He grabbed a couple notebooks off his desk and put them on a shelf, then looked over at Emma, who was blinking at the sudden onslaught of bright light. She pulled a jacket out of her bag and started putting it on.

“Do you have a way of getting home? It’s getting cold out there.”

Emma responded, “Yeah, the bus runs for another hour, so I should be good. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded, surveying his office for any other things that might need to be stored away during break.

“Jonathan?”

He paused. Emma stood, leaning on his desk, arms crossed. Her curly hair fell loose around her shoulders, slightly frizzy from rubbing against her jacket.

“Yes?”

Emma moistened her lips with her tongue, then swallowed. Jonathan tried not to look at the way her throat bobbed up and down.

“Thanks for having me as a TA. I had a lot of fun working with you this semester.”

She was staring into his eyes. She smiled at him, and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. Continuing on, she said, “Also, I appreciate you helping me out with looking for internships and stuff like that. And for giving me advice on projects. Seriously, you didn’t have to take the time to do all that. I really…I really felt like you were looking out for me.”

Against his will, Jonathan took a step forward, closing a good portion of the distance between them. She was now standing between him and the desk, neck craned slightly up to meet his gaze.

He chose his next words carefully. “You’re a good…person, Emma. You really helped me out a lot this semester. I’m thankful to have had you as my TA.”

Emma swallowed again. Her eyes hadn’t left his, not even for a second. She uncrossed her arms, and gripped the edge of the desk with her hands.

He added, “If you ever need help with anything else, Emma, you can always email me. Or Slack me. I’ll be here.”

She blinked up at him, and nodded her head. “I appreciate that, Jonathan. You’ve helped me out a lot too.” He saw that her knuckles had tightened on the desk.

His heart dropped. Oh no. He’d failed. Somehow she knew all the wildly inappropriate thoughts that had passed through his brain for the better part of the semester. He was finished.

But then, he saw something else. A pink flush had begun to creep up her neck. For a beat, he didn’t say anything. He felt like if he looked at her any longer he was going to go blind.

After a moment, he said, “Emma. Are you ok?”

She let go of the desk with one hand, and pressed it against her neck, trying and failing to cover up the redness that was now flushing into her cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah I’m fine. I’m just…I’m just tired.”

“You should probably go home, Emma. Get some rest. It’s been a long semester and a long day.” He couldn’t believe that he was taking a step closer to her, even as he said this. He didn’t know if he’d ever stood this close to her. He didn’t know what in the world was possessing him to act like this. Every rational fiber of his being was screaming at him to step away from her, to let her go.

Emma looked down at her shoes, then crossed one leg over the other, one hip jutting out as she shifted her weight. For an agonizing second, she didn’t say anything.

Jonathan’s heart was starting to race. She was going to report him. She was going to tell someone that he shouldn’t be a professor at this school any more.

Without looking at him, she mumbled. “The bus doesn’t get here for another 20 minutes. Maybe I could wait in here?”

No. She couldn’t wait in here. If she stayed in here, in his office, in this empty building where everyone else had gone home for break, his final thread of rationality and self control was going to snap.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, you can also probably just wait in the lobby. I mean, not that I need you to leave. Like I can wait with you. If you want. In the lobby. Or here. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” Christ, this was bad. He sounded nothing like the grown, adult professor that he had to be while he was on this campus.

She leveled his gaze with her gorgeous, endlessly alluring brown eyes. “I’ll just wait here.”

He stared at her. Her cheeks were fully flushed pink now, and he suddenly noticed that her breathing had become measured, as if she was struggling to exert control over it.

This wasn’t happening. This was definitely happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Slowly, slowly, he leaned towards her. He was easily almost a foot taller than she was, so he had to bend down quite a bit. He put his hands on the desk, one on each side of her. Without touching her at all, he moved his head until his mouth was a breath away from her jawbone.

Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. She inhaled, and he swore he could see her pulse jumping in her neck.

Into her ear, he said. “Emma.”

At the sound of his voice, she exhaled deeply. She said, in a voice lower than he’d ever heard her use. “Professor Holbrook.”

He hovered there, still holding himself back from fully closing the space between them. For a second, there was no sound in his office but their breathing.

Jonathan knew at that moment that it was over. He was absolutely powerless to stop whatever happened next. He’d spent months resisting, fighting himself off, just for it all to end like this.

Softly, he pressed his lips to Emma’s ear. She shivered, but made no motion to move away from him. Into the warmth of her skin he said slowly, “You should just call me Jonathan.”

She let go of the desk and placed her hand on his exposed forearm, onto the tattoo of a parakeet that she’d commented on all those months ago. He felt her fingers land on his skin with every single nerve that he had. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Emma. Are you alright?”

She turned to look at him, their noses inches apart. She nodded, fingers stroking over his arm softly, eyes searching his face.

“Good” He rasped. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of her face, bending her head slightly away from him to expose the flushed skin of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed once more, and she sighed softly. She placed her hand on top of his, lightly encouraging him to hold her. He bent his head down and kissed her right beneath the ear, firmly and slowly, savoring the way her breathing had become ragged and uncontrolled. As he pressed into her slightly with his tongue, fingers nestled in her curly hair, she softened, leaning into his touch fluidly. Jonathan’s mind had completely fogged over, and he was aware of nothing but the feeling of her skin, the heat now radiating off of her.

She moved to unzip her jacket, and he helped her shrug it off her shoulders, letting it land unceremoniously on the floor. She jumped up so she was sitting on the desk, and he knelt carefully in front of her. Her hands were resting on her thighs; he grabbed them and placed them onto his shoulders. They felt warm even through his shirt, and Jonathan was remembering the sheer number of times he’d imagined her perfectly painted nails dragging against his skin. The upper part of her chest was exposed by her sweater, and he leaned in and kissed his way down her sternum, breathing in the vibrations in her chest as she gasped. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and he had to stifle a groan. He nudged her knees apart with one elbow, and moved forward so she was bracing her inner thighs on either side of his torso. Placing a hand on each of her hips, right where her jeans met the curve of her narrow waist, Jonathan reverently pulled her body closer to his, relishing the feeling of her hips pressing up against him.

As he moved his mouth lower down her chest, she squeezed her legs tighter around him. Her breathing deepened, he could see the haphazard rise and fall of her shoulders. He wanted to feel more of her skin, more of her warmth. He slid his hands up under her sweater, fingers splaying against the smooth muscles of her back.

Emma moaned softly, and Jonathan stopped, resting the side of his face against her stomach.

“Jonathan.” He looked up at her face, and saw that her mouth was slightly open, her skin starting to dampen slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

“Yes, Emma?”

She started to say something, but then slowly moved her hands onto his forearms instead. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled his hands up higher, so that her sweater slid up against her body, exposing her navel and the lower part of her ribcage. Her skin was beautiful, rosy and smooth and soft to the touch.

Jonathan couldn’t hold back. He stood, gently pressing on her with his hands so she reclined onto his desk. She looked into his eyes as she laid back, searching his face. Her legs were still on either side of him as he bent over her, pressing slow, methodical kisses onto her stomach, her ribcage, where her bra concealed the lower curve of her small breasts.

Her hips lifted against his thighs, and tension pooled in his lower stomach. He felt himself hardening against the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt like this, so single mindedly focused on the task at hand.

He pulled her sweater up, over her head, and off her body. She was perfect, every bit as perfect as he’d imagined her to be. Her jeans hung loosely off her hips, her shoulders were sloped and elegant and curved perfectly into her neck, and he could see the peaks of small nipples nudging at the gray cotton fabric of her bra. One of them was intersected by a horizontal barbell. Jonathan felt a surge of heat course through him, upon finding out that his TA had had someone run a needle and metal jewelry through such a sensitive and hidden part of her body.

He grabbed her by the waist and moved her farther up onto the table. He brushed the sides of her ribcage with his thumbs, and he pressed his mouth to the upper curve of her breast. A small sound escaped her throat.

“Is this okay, Emma?”

She nodded soundlessly. He knew it was in fact not okay, that he was breaking every single rule about student-faculty relations he could think of. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care. Deftly, he pressed his tongue onto her nipple, wetting the thin fabric covering it. She jerked against him, and a moan left her lips. She traced her hands up to his head from his shoulders, fingers pulling slightly at his hair. The sensation shot through him and settled low into his hips, and he sucked in a breath. Without thinking, he surged forwards, pressing himself into her, and she responded by arching her back up off the desk. The thought that she could feel his length, that his stiffness felt as good to her as her softness did to him, made his pulse race.

Jonathan reached up to cup her small breast; it rested perfectly in his hand. He used the pad of his thumb to brush lightly over her nipple, and he felt it harden at his touch. The color was high in her cheeks now, and her face had an expression that he’d only ever seen deep in the recesses of his mind. He hooked his thumb under the elastic band of her bra and pulled it up, fingers pressing soft dents into her skin. She was beautiful, her nipples perfectly round and a warm shade of light pink, accented by the gold barbell she had chosen. Even here, she had a light dusting of freckles on her skin.

She tightened her grip on him, knees pressing into his sides urgently. He looked up at her, locking onto her brown eyes. Her lashes fluttered gently, and her eyes fell closed. Carefully, gently, he took her nipple into his mouth, softly licking the tip of it with the flat of his tongue. The hard metal jewelry clicked against his teeth, and he tugged at it ever so slightly.

Emma moaned, loudly, breath quickening. Encouraged by the sound, his hand softly stroked the bare skin of her other breast. Jonathan was coming undone, and he needed to feel more of her. His own desire was a white hot flash burning through him, filling him with need. He pulled her bra up over her head, and the sight of her naked torso spread all across his desk gave him pause. She really was perfect, and he couldn’t believe he was touching her like this, making her feel things she maybe hadn’t had the chance to feel before.

He continued for a few minutes, sucking gently on her nipple at first, then gradually harder. He relished the textural contrast between her velvety skin and the smooth, hard jewelry. He slid his hands under her back, tracing them up and down, feeling every contour and curve. At this point, she was no longer silent. Every sound that escaped her went straight through him, eating away at whatever shred of his restraint might have remained.

When her hips started to jerk up, pressing into him involuntarily, he moved his hands down to the waistband of her jeans. He asked, “Emma. Do you want me to take these off?”

She sat up, and his hands stilled. Gently, he grasped her shoulders, bending down so he matched her eye level.

He tried to slow his breathing as he waited for her to respond. After a beat she said, “I don’t know if we should.”

Immediately, he pulled back. “Of course, you’re right. Here, let me-”

She cut him off. “But also, it’s my senior year.”

Slightly dumbfounded, Jonathan just looked at her. A small, earnest smile was creeping its way onto her face.

Her gaze darted down to the zipper area of his pants, then back up to meet his eyes. Jonathan found himself feeling a bit exposed, which did nothing to remedy the situation that had caught her eye.

Emma spoke again. “I feel like…I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know you this semester, Jonathan. I think you’re a cool person. You’re really good at your job, you’re smart, you’ve been looking out for me. I guess, you know, whatever happens next, I still just want to keep having fun getting to know you.”

She was complimenting him. Genuinely complimenting him while she was sitting on his desk with no top on. His brain felt like it was going to explode.

After a pause, she took a breath and continued. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything. Like for real, nobody is going to find out about this. If you’d rather stop that’s ok too but to be honest, I’m having fun.” She let out a laugh. “Jonathan, you have to know, you’re the hot professor. I feel kinda dumb saying this, but everyone says it. You - you’re gorgeous. During our first meeting in this office I felt like I couldn’t even look at you because you’re so…you know. And now I’m back here again and-” She laughed again, and he found himself smiling too. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Jonathan was at a loss for words. Finally, he gathered his thoughts enough to say, “Thank you. For the compliments, I mean. I really appreciate everything you said. And Emma, you have to know too, you’re beautiful. Everything about you-” He stopped and leaned forwards, placing his hands on her waist. She looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“Do you remember that morning when I helped you with your optimization lab?” Her eyes widened, and she nodded. He continued, “After you left the room, I thought to myself-” He hesitated. Was it a good idea to tell her?

Her brown eyes were so lucid, and he decided he didn’t care if it was a good idea or not. He wanted her to know how much she turned him on.

Her inner thighs were pressing against him. He cupped a hand around the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her hair. Her breathing hitched. He said, “I thought to myself that I should have put my hands up your shirt and pulled you down onto my lap.”

While tugging slightly on her hair, he traced his other hand up until his it brushed over her pierced nipple. A small sound escaped her throat, and she shuddered. Back and forth, he delicately smoothed his thumb over the tight bud until a pink flush was blooming across her chest and neck. After pressing a kiss to her jaw, he said, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Every time we had lecture, every time we had a meeting, I was picturing you like this.” He took in the sight of her, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, the perfect line of her spine, the slight protruding curve of her exposed lower belly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up again.

She reached out a hand and grasped the front of his shirt. All she said was, “Take this off.”

And at that, the next several minutes were lost to a haze of flurried movement and agonizing sensation. His shirt disappeared, flung to some random spot on the floor. Her hands haphazardly explored his skin, and he was hyperaware of the way her nails dragged lightly against him. Her breasts pressed into him as he drew her close, and the warmth between her legs surrounded him deliciously. His pants were starting to feel like a lid screwed too tightly onto a jar.

He moved his hands to the top button of her jeans, and paused to look into her eyes. She nodded at him, chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm.

He unbuttoned and unzipped, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down. She rocked her hips so he could get them off, and then Emma was sitting on his desk in nothing but a pair of blue cotton panties.

She started to lie back on the desk, but he braced a hand against her back to stop her. “Sit. I want to see your face when I put my fingers inside of you.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, and a blush rose into her cheeks. Jonathan couldn’t believe how turned on he was. He wanted to wind Emma up until she was tight like a coiled spring.

He pressed the palm of his hand between her legs, closing his eyes as he felt the damp heat through the thin fabric.

For a second, he rested there, before saying, “Emma, if you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Immediately she shook her head.

“You want me to keep going?”

She nodded.

“Say yes.”

In a slightly choked voice, she said, “Yes.”

He pushed the fabric of her underwear to the side with his fingers. Her smooth folds were slick already. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a finger into her warm depths.

She moaned, and clutched at his arm. Encouraged, he slid his finger out almost all the way, then pressed it back in, repeating the motion methodically. As he did so, He watched Emma's eyebrows furrowing, her lips parting and wrapping around broken, uncontrolled sounds, her hips rocking forward to meet his thrusts.

When he felt her relax around him, he pressed another finger inside her. He lightly drew his thumb across her clit, and her muscles clenched.

“Ah! Jonathan-”

He bent forward to press kisses into her neck. “Yes?”

Her breathing was ragged. “Jonathan, you-you feel-”

He pressed the flat of his tongue onto her nipple, dragging wetness across her skin. He sucked on it before pulling away to say, “What? What do I feel like?”

Her hips rocked forwards, as if of their own accord. He flexed his fingers inside her, reaching for the spot in her lower belly that he knew would drive her crazy.

She gasped, and he felt her tighten around him, drawing him in. “Oh my god, Jonathan. What-? how did you-? nngh-”

He flexed his fingers again, marveling at how sensitive she was, how she responded so willingly to his touch. “Tell me how you feel, ” he said hoarsely.

“Your hand. I can’t-I feel like-ah!” Her sentence was cut short as he started drawing gentle, tight circles around her clit with his thumb. With a little more force than before, he thrust his fingers into her again.

“Emma? I didn’t quite catch that.” She opened her eyes to look at him, and he saw a glow in her dark eyes that would be seared into his brain for quite some time.

“You’re- you’re teasing me. You feel like-” She breathed in sharply as he sank his fingers into her once more.

He grinned, and said, “Well, if you won’t tell me what I feel like, I’ll tell you what you feel like.” He was in a rhythm now, steadily moving in and out of her, relishing the friction between the pads of his fingers against her walls. “You’re so, so warm. And wet, and I can feel how tight you are.” The only response he got was her breathing, the sound of her starting to lose control.

With his arm, he pulled her closer to the edge of the desk so he could sink his fingers into her even deeper.

“Agh! Ah, nngh-” Her voice was strained beyond the formation of clear words.

Gently, he pressed his thumb to her swollen clit. He felt her clench inside of him, and he knew she was close to coming undone.

Suddenly, Emma reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping the motion of his hand. After taking a moment to steady her breathing, she said, “Wait a second. Wait- I don’t-I don’t want to come yet.”

Jonathan, with his fingers still inside her, pressed a kiss directly onto her pierced nipple. “No?”

“Oh-Jonathan, hang on. Do you have condoms in your office?”

He looked at her. Matter of factly, he said, “Yeah, I do. In my bag.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, urgently. Her curls were starting to frizz up, and her skin shone under the fluorescent lights. She squeezed his wrist, and said, “Do you think-do you think we could use one?”

It was all Jonathan could do not to moan out loud as a wave of lust crashed into him. As if aware of the possibility of release, his dick became almost unbearably hard against the stiff zipper of his pants.

Gently, he withdrew his fingers from inside Emma’s body, watching as her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted at the sensation. He looked into her eyes and said, “Yes. Anything you want.”

She smiled, and for a moment that was all Jonathan could see. He reached for his bag under the desk, and rummaged around in the innermost pocket.

He pulled out a foil wrapped square, then said, “Do you want to do it? Or should I?”

Almost primly, Emma crossed her legs at the ankle. “I want you to do it.”

Jonathan’s head felt like it was full of electric current, waves of energy humming and building up in a dizzying way. A whole semester of restraint, and it was all coming down to this.

He unbuttoned the waistband of his pants, pulled down the zipper. The faint sound of the teeth separating was drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears. He pulled his pants down just past his hips.

His boxer briefs provided only scant separation between him and Emma now. He paused, and saw that Emma was looking directly at the outline of his dick against the tight fabric.

He stepped close to her, closing the space between them. Sometimes, he had lamented the fact that his desk was a bit too high, even for a tall man like himself.

But in this moment, when he saw how their hips aligned perfectly, he was glad he’d never asked to switch it out.

She looked up into his eyes, chin tilting up to reveal the satin skin of her neck. As he bent down to kiss her throat, he pulled her forwards so that her legs splayed on either side of him, and their hips pressed together tightly.

As soon as her wet, warm center met his cock, every coherent thought he may have had evaporated from his mind. Even through two layers of fabric, the feeling of her against him had him harder than he had been in a long, long time. Having her fully pressed against him, flush against his body, was better than anything he had imagined. His eyes closed, and he let out a groan.

Emma placed a hand on his chest, and used the other one to brace herself on the desk. Without warning, she rolled her hips forward.

Jonathan suppressed a moan. “Emma-you can’t-”

She rocked her hips into him again. “Why not?”

The friction increased the pressure in his lower stomach to a boiling point, and he was struggling to control his breathing.

He growled, low and deep in his throat and placed his hands on the soft curves of her pelvis right where the edge of her panties were. His thumbs pressed soft divots into her skin, and he said, “Do you want me to open the condom or not?”

She was leaning into him; his torso was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of the desk. Her skin was so soft and smooth against his, her curves felt exquisite under his hands.

“Open it, Jonathan. I’m not doing anything to stop you.” The huskiness in her voice was hot and velvety in his ears.

He picked the condom up off the desk, tore it open, and hastily discarded the wrapper. He pulled down the waistband of his underwear, finally freeing his erection from the close-fitting fabric. Carefully, he rolled the condom on, trying not to let the sensation of his own fingers push him closer to the edge.

When it was properly in place, he nestled himself back in between her legs. With one hand, he pushed her underwear to the side, dipping his fingers into her once more. She moaned out loud, and he said, “Are you ready?”

She leaned forwards into him, and said, “Yes. Do it.”

He couldn’t believe that Emma, his ever reliable and diligent TA, was now almost naked sitting on his desk, legs splayed apart, looking at him with an almost feral expression, ready to take him inside. He was never going to be able to look at her again without imagining this in agonizing detail.

He placed a hand at the base of his cock and slowly guided it towards her entrance. The head met her folds, and he pushed forwards into her carefully.

She was so, so warm, and wet, and soft and pliable all at once. He groaned and said, "Emma, you're unbelievable. I can't believe how tight you feel." He pressed into her halfway, and then withdrew.

Her face had an indescribable expression on it, she looked like she was atmospheres away from the reality of where she was.

“Do you want the whole thing?” Jonathan needed to hear her say it.

“Yes. All of it. Put the whole thing inside me.” She was almost panting as the words fell out of her, eyes half lidded in bliss.

Jonathan didn’t hold back, he couldn’t. He thrust himself into her, until he was buried inside all the way.

“Oh my god. Jonathan-”

He pulled out, and thrust into her again. Already, the pressure inside him was building to a dangerous level. Having her wrapped around him was a feeling more delectable than anything he could remember.

“Your voice sounds so pretty when you say my name, Emma.”

He placed his hands under her ass, so he could lift her off the desk slightly. The change in angle sent him in even deeper. Trying to maintain control, he entered her with a slow, methodical rhythm, making sure he was hitting the most tender spot rooted deep inside her, where he knew the pressure of his cock filling her would send shockwaves through her system.

With each thrust, he could feel her response deep within her body. Each gasp, each breath that escaped her went straight from his ears to the pool of heat coiling up low in his hips.

“Jonathan, this feels amazing. I can’t even-I feel like I’m on another planet.”

Despite everything, Jonathan laughed. He couldn’t string together a response, but he was charmed by her candidness.

The slickness inside her was destabilizing; it was taking everything Jonathan had to stay in control. He felt himself teetering on a precipice, but he knew Emma wasn’t quite there yet.

He stilled momentarily to gather himself, knowing that if he kept going he wasn’t going to be able to last. While buried inside her, he leaned down and spoke into her ear, lips brushing against her skin. “Will you come for me, Emma? Can you do that?”

She arched her back in response, tilting him deeper into her. She turned her head, nose brushing his cheek. Breathily, she said, “I-I want to. Yes.”

He put his hands on her lower back, hugging her close. She was rocking her hips into his every thrust, and he could feel how much he filled her up, how her innermost muscles caressed and squeezed him from all sides.

When Jonathan felt like he couldn’t possibly inch himself closer to the edge, her hands came up to clutch at his chest. With her head thrown back, she took in a sharp breath. Urgently, she said, “Jonathan, I’m gonna-I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Jonathan-nnngh. Oh!”

Feeling his own release building, he pressed into her insistently, feeling her warm walls surrounding him tightly with each thrust.

The weight of her body resting on his hips, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the uncontrolled sounds coming out of her mouth, her inner thighs squeezing him, it became too much all at once.

Months worth of tension, of sleepless nights and afternoons spent alone in his office, of listening to Emma’s bright laughter and looking at her soft smile burst forth as Jonathan came, hard. As his release rippled through him, he felt the muscles in her core clenching down on him forcefully, with abandon. Her body rolled and arched against him, and the pressure and warmth enveloping every inch of him shattered his inhibition. He groaned at the intensity of the uncontained raw energy that crackled through every nerve ending on his body.

Once all the waves had flowed away and calmed, he pulled out of her. At a loss for words, he just stared at her face as she stared at his.

Finally, after a protracted silence, she said, “That was crazy.”

Jonathan nodded. He felt like crazy was probably an understatement when it came to describing whatever the hell had just happened.

Gently, he grasped both of her hands in his. “Are you ok?”

She grinned at him. “Yeah. Yeah I’m great.” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest. “Thanks for being such a good professor. And thanks for…this.”

He nodded, unsure of exactly what to say. He reached behind her to trace small circles on her back with his fingers.

After he felt fully grounded in reality again, he stepped back. The fluorescent lights were harsh, draining his surroundings of color, and the breeze from the air conditioning in his office felt slightly grating against his skin. Gently, he said, “It’s getting late, Emma. You should probably get going.”

He picked up her jeans from where they had landed on the ground, and handed them to her.

Wordlessly, the two of them got dressed, covering up all the parts of themselves that had been so close only a few minutes before.

Once they were both put back together, Emma slung her backpack onto one shoulder and moved towards the door of his office. She hovered there for a second, and then said, “Have a good break, Jonathan. See you next semester?”

He nodded. “See you next semester.”

She smiled softly, one corner of her mouth curving up more than the other. As she gripped the door handle, Jonathan said, “Emma?”

She turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“Get home safe. “

For a second, she just looked at him. Then, quietly, she said, “I will.”

She walked into the dark hallway, and the door fell closed behind her.

Jonathan was alone in his office once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Message

To: [email protected] Cc Bcc

Subject: Next Semester

Emma,

Due to personal reasons, I have made the decision to choose a different person to TA for DATA1450 next semester. Please do not take this as an indication of any shortcomings regarding your character or performance. You were an excellent TA and a joy to interact with during lecture and meetings. I am more than happy to be a reference should you need a professional recommendation for other job opportunities on or off campus.

I wish you the best during your final semester. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to email or Slack me, and my office door is always open if you would like to meet in person.

Have a great rest of your break, a happy holiday season, and a happy new year.

Keep in touch,

Jonathan Holbrook, Ph.D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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vmaccarena · 3 months

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It occured to me that i started watching one piece over 10 years ago and at that point it already ran for 16 years. Back then they were at fish men island when i was finally up to date. I stopped for a while and had an on and off relationship with it for some more time. A year ago i picked it up again and started from the beginning. And now i am in wano kuni and at the point were i'm not spoilered for anything big anymore (like aces death... thanks again for that lisa). It feels weird. It feels like i am spoilering myself when i watch it. I watched the falshback with gold roger and oden recently and heard of joy boy and saw the tiny bit of laugh tale and it felt so much like something i shouldn't know. (And like something luffy would hate to see, i almost had a guilty consiousness, and maybe i would have liked to learn what it is in luffys pace. To expierience it as he does.). Because when i first watched, there was no such thing as laugh tale, no one knew anything about roger except he was some guy on a scaffold who started the great pirate age. Rayleigh wasn't a thing and it wasn't clear that road porneglyphs existed. We didn't know who ruffys dad was or that sabo was alive (i cried happy tears back then). Fuck, one didn't even know what the yonkos looked like or (in the beginning) what they were called. Don't even get me started on sanji! They made so many big steps forward in the last few arcs. And while i am sure it will be years till we know, what the one piece is, it feels unfathomably weird to get answers for all the questions asked to actually get puzzle pieces now. Something in me (16 year old me) still believes the ending of one piece is in the very distant future. So distant that it can't really be grasped (at least not by a 16 year old) and suddenly it feels much nearer than before and very unreal at the same time. One Piece always was a constant. Something i knew would last and now i'm faced with the possibility it will end. And that the big big mystery will be solved. That we will someday know what the one piece is. That it's slowly useful to make assumptions, what the one piece is (better assumptions than "its their friendship"). Its not as vague anymore it gets a form, and that feels very weird. I cant imagine how someone would feel who watched ever scince 1997. I am very curious how it will all fall into place but at the very same time i am sad, that it will end, that i will someday not expierience more of the joy and curiousoty it brings me, no more adventures, no more riddles, assumptions, hypothesis. Yeah i can watch it again but it will not be with the same novelty it has had the last 26 years.

#one piece #one piece discourse #one piece thoughts #one piece meta #wano kuni spoiler #mugiwara crew

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get-back-homeward · 1 year

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Imagine this

How Do You Sleep that

Have you considered the most interesting song on the Imagine album may be How?

George was right. The song deserves attention.

Tumblr search is zero help on this song because it only picks up How Do You Sleep. But has anyone ever written about it?

Given John’s “How? + Why?” response to Paul’s 12-page letter about dissolving the partnership, I think it’s worth looking at. That exchange is sometime in summer 1970.

Song Origins

The earliest version of How? is a home demo dated as late 1970. This demo only has the “we” part of the song:

How can we go forward When we don’t know which way we're facing? How can we go forward When we don’t know which way to turn? How can we be certain About something we’re not sure of? Oh, no, oh, no

In the final version, this part is the end of the song (the bolded words change slightly). This ending is a shift from the personal “I” used in the rest of the song. So he started with “we” in 1970 and then evolved it into more self-directed reflection over time.

The demo is very rough, he's still searching for the notes. But something about it made me think of Look At Me, which has a similar plaintive tone and features several existential questions to the listener (Who am I supposed to be? and Who are we?). Look at Me originates from India and has an earlier 1968 demo that captures a glimpse of John’s state of mind during this crucial time. The How? demo would be recorded around the same time John is revisiting Look At Me to record formally for the Plastic Ono Band album.

The added self-reflection verses continue the same format of existential questions, moving from feelings to love. It's a blatantly honest look at depression in the wake of a loss, which I think George would have noticed and in some sense seen himself in. It's unclear when these verses are added (John just says “last year” in 1971 for all the verses), but they are probably influenced by John's experience of undergoing Janov's primal scream therapy (April-September 1970?). Possibly the questions left unanswered at the end of those 6 months.

How can I have feeling when I don't know if it's a feeling?

How can I give love when I don't know what it is I'm giving?

All three verses include the idea of uncertainty (I don’t know), which could be its own essay on existentialism vs epistemology in the face of a destabilizing event. But for now, let’s focus on the emotional aspect. Here, two places ascribe blame to drive his uncertainty: his feelings have always been denied and love is something he never had. This seems to go a bit far, but remember depression is a liar and part of Janov's therapy was probably that John’s closest relationships had all been a lie.

John adds the middle eight during Imagine sessions. It balances the bleakness of depression with the will to live:

You know life can be long

And you got to be so strong

And the world is so tough

Sometimes I feel I've had enough

This middle eight repeats twice, and each time, the end fuses to the first word of the questioning verses, without the typical space of a few beats in between. This lack of space suggests a relationship, as if the questions are part of the fight to keep him going past the bleakness of feeling like giving up.

Its first recording is May 26, 1971, nine days after Ram is released. Take 31 and Take 40 (Raw Studio Mix) were released on the Ultimate release of the album but aren't too different from the final lyrics/melody wise.

Supposedly, another version of How? includes a question about home: “how can I go home when home is something I have never had” and it’s not clear which lines replace it. Perhaps “how can I give love when I don’t know what it is I’m giving?” Questions of home would be a result of Janov’s primal scream digging into his childhood and bringing forth old wounds. But in the absence of a physical home, it’s the people around you who become your home. This home line makes me think of that Get Back sessions moment, when John shares with Paul his excitement about getting Apple Studio functional and feeling like home. It's a picture of feelings being denied in action as Paul responds by changing the subject. For whatever reason, this home line gets cut by Take 31.

The placement of How? in the album tracklist is curious too, directly after the angry Paul-directed How Do You Sleep. Its title holds the same question but none of the anger. It’s like an echo of How Do You Sleep, informing the source of its anger and revealing what it masks: fear and indecision about the future.

Song Context

It’s interesting to place this song next to Ram, where the overwhelming theme is the exact opposite: grab life by the horns and move forward to find your own way. Ram sessions started in NYC in October 1970, around the same time as the How? demo. Each song, from Too Many People to Back Seat, reveals Paul’s mental exercise of extricating himself from his former life and moving on with his family in Scotland. Personally and professionally, Paul is building a new home away from John.

The final version of How? is produced more in the vein of The Long and Winding Road, the song at the nexus of the breakup. Its beginning is marked by the same distinct stop-start syncopated beat and the instrumentation builds across the song to make a bleak song more palatable. If Paul didn’t turn off the record the moment he heard John’s diss track, he would have almost certainly picked up How?’s link to TL&WR. That song being his own plaintive moment of fearing the future, considering life without the band that was his world. And the last straw when Spector remixed it without his approval.

In his April 1971 LIFE interview that precedes the Ram release, Paul shares a recent exchange between him and John. John recalls the infamous “bubble bursting” question, and Paul corrects him in the past tense: the bubble has already burst. This is one of several exchanges where Paul’s saying catch up, it’s done, let me go and John’s saying what does that even mean?!

Hearing Paul’s declaration of independence on Ram made John angry. He calls How Do You Sleep “an outburst” in response to Ram and not reflective of how he thinks of Paul all the time. But Ram also gave him a direction forward that McCartney did not. If John thought the album had messages to taunt him, he almost certainly heard the taunt in Monkberry Moon Delight:

Catch up! Cats and kittens Don’t get left behind

I don’t know about you, but hearing that taunt from my ex-partner/BFF/lover/whatever would certainly make me angry, hot enough to ignite my competitive streak and get to work.

It reminds me of the moment Fred Seaman recalls in 1980, when John hears Paul's Coming Up:

John told me that Paul was the only musician who could scare him into writing great songs, and vice versa.

Imagine is hardly my favorite John solo album. I'm not about to dismiss the terrible things John said about Paul or Ram or forget how the bad press buried the album for years. But I think in focusing on the anger, we can miss the simple fact that Ram inspiring John to write anything was actually the biggest compliment he could give. Sometimes, anger is the only fuel available to drive you forward, where anything is preferable to nothing. It’s not ideal or fair, and it’s up to you to pick up the mess of your storm later, but it’s something. Like a basic survival instinct kicking in in the midst of drowning. Any fight that pushing you back to the surface is preferable over laying down and dying.

In that way, I think John was being honest when he later admitted that How Do You Sleep was about himself. Not in the exact lines specific to Paul but in the action, to write (or accept), record, and release them. How? as an echo to this anger shows the before and after, how John used Paul as a punching bag in response. That action was all about John himself.

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sucrosette · 5 months

Text

★— ⋆｡˚ [Things Missed]

For Day 26 of Carry on Countdown 23, Angst @carryon-countdown

Basil's finally ready to talk about the accident and Simon's there to listen, of course he is, he's not about to walk away.

Rated T for themes, language, & trauma talk.

This is part four of the Nurse/Lawyer AU. Just one more to go - I hope you enjoy. 🖤 [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3]

⋆｡˚ BAZ

Some days, I really miss the hours spent feeling my fingers stretched over the neck of my violin, plucking swiftly over the strings. I miss the feeling of the bowstrings reverberating noise under my strokes, the effortful, emotive playing that pushed me to sweat with effort. I even miss sitting my chin over the chinrest and just holding position in anticipation of playing.

I can still play, beautifully even, but I’m not the soloist I once was. I might have been playing sonatas in music halls across all of Europe at one point. I was good enough, I was more than good enough. I can’t do that now.

I usually manage ten to fifteen minutes before my bow hand starts shaking and my neck’s screaming for relief. Oh, there are workarounds, sure. I’ve tried the extended neck braces that eliminate the need for the chin rest. I’ve used the mobility bows that have the wrist straps, removing the need for my grip entirely. It’s just not the same though.

I had fifteen years of playing before the accident happened. It was a lifetime of habits I had needed to unlearn and repackage and… it’s not that I couldn’t have gotten to my old skill level with enough time, enough practice, but… I started to hate playing. I don’t want to hate playing, but every time I’d fuck up a simple chord progression or hit a note wrong or fumble due to relearning, that feeling would surge up inside of me. My body still wanted to play the way it knew best, and I still wanted to let it, and every time that urge clashed with the need to relearn it would put me back a whole day, sometimes more.

It hit a point where even just thinking about practicing would make me nauseous and angry, so I just stopped. I don’t want to hate playing. I love my violin. I focused on my physical therapy instead. I went to therapy. I got to the point where I am now and I changed course.

I switched to law school.

I cried a week over the decision and I had to speedrun undergrad but overall I’m better for it. I don’t hate my grandfather’s violin every time I look at it. I don’t feel frustrated just existing in a room with it. I don’t get jealous of other violinists who play half as well as I do for having just the slightest mobility advantage over me.

I can hold my bow again, position my violin and play my heart out for a full ten minutes without dropping anything or shaking and botching my play. I might not be able to do some of the more complicated pieces I once did, but what I can play, I play perfectly, just the way I remember, just the way I like. For ten whole minutes, it’s like I’m no different than I ever was, and I find that beauty I make in music and let my violin sing for me. She’s my oldest friend. I can’t hate her.

When Simon first hears me play, it’s a bit of an accident. I don’t really play for people anymore, since I can’t play long and sometimes I have to conclude a piece early when I start to feel my body react, so of course it’s a bit of an accident. It’s just my sisters I play for when I play for people now. Otherwise, it’s just me. I play alone and let myself have my memories of what once was and I put her down to reminisce another day. We share a peaceful relationship, an old friendship, but it’s not something I feel most people particularly need to witness. I aim to play alone.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t know I still play, he does, I’ve told him. Besides, she’s seen the violin, she’s seen me rosin the bow and tune my instrument. She got me a custom rosin case for it for my birthday, the very first we’d spent together— Simon is more than aware that I still play.

it just feels intimate in a way I haven’t quite been ready to share. Fifty-fifty odds I’ll cry at the end, or even halfway through. I like Simon seeing me strong, confident, and maybe a little cocky. I’ve been vulnerable, of course, I met him freshly stabbed and all, but this is a different thing.

So it’s a bit of an accident. Simon's been stateside for a friend’s wedding— she’d been her best mate in school— and I’m not expecting him home that day, let alone these ten minutes of the day I’ve chosen to play. I could've gone to the wedding with him, but I thought maybe meeting someone the week of their wedding might be a bit presumptive of me, especially with our relationship being fairly recent. Besides, the caseload at work’s been busy and I’d’ve had to fly separately, Simon's invested in his tickets an era ago and I don’t particularly want to fly over the Atlantic alone. I’ve offered to take Penny and her husband-to-be on a cruise together at some later date and we can get to know each other then, when they’re not so busy with pre-wedding and during-wedding and post-wedding.

Simon tumbles through the door about two minutes after I’ve started but I don’t hear him. He’s still at the door when I finish. Thirteen minutes later. I can feel my hand aching a little but my neck’s doing alright, so I’ll take that as a good day. I blink over at Simon, realizing he’s really there as I carefully settle my violin back into her stand.

“You play beautifully,” Simon says as she closes the door, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I blink back the way ears in my eyes. It takes me a minute to find my words, but I shake my head to tell him that he hadn’t. I find my confidence and breath and ultimately find it’s not uncomfortable for me to have Simon seeing me play. That’s a relief. Unsurprising, ultimately, but no less a relief. “You’re early?”

“Ah, yeah,” Simon answers as she kicks off her shoes. I’m already moving to help with his bags while he explains, “Pen’s already on honeymoon and originally I’d wanted to stay over to see some sights but I just missed you so I checked to see if I could catch an earlier flight and here I am.” She does a silly little wave of her hands and it makes me impossibly bloody fond.

“You missed me that much?” There’s a touch of teasing there and Simon punches my arm for it, but he doesn’t use any strength to do it, and just sort of scrunches his nose in annoyance.

“Of bloody course I did, you prick. It’s been a whole week already…”

I hum as I follow Simon to our room, helping him unpack when we get there. I pause to nudge his side and when he turns my way I catch him in a kiss. “I missed you too.”

It’s an easy admission. “Of course you did,” Simon says it like it’s obvious.

it is obvious.

We work through unpacking him in relative silence, a companionable quiet that tells me both how tired he is and how happy he is just to be home. I’ll ask him all about everything after he’s gotten some sleep in him, reset properly from the jetlag over some food. I’m just as happy to have Simon home again too. I missed existing with her the last week.

“I’ll let you hear me play again,” I say apropos of nothing, except I can still hear those words in my head. You play beautifully.

I know I do. Or I knew I did.

The declaration stops Simon midway from tossing his dirty wash in our hamper, but only for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, whenever I play next.” It’ll be tomorrow. I play almost every day, so long as it’s not a snow day.

“I’d like that,” He answers with a soft smile, “I’d like it a lot.”

I love this about Simon. He’s just so bloody understanding. I don’t understand how he doesn’t press or complicate or assume anything. We just finish getting through his unpacking and collapse into our bed and cuddle close.

I think he’s fallen asleep already when his voice catches me off guard, but maybe I’d been the one closer to sleep. “Are you gonna tell me about it?”

“Not tonight,” I know exactly what he means without asking, “But soon, probably. After you tell me all about how the wedding went.”

Simon hums and snuggles in closer and I melt around him, letting myself relax with him, letting myself feel how much I missed him. I can feel Simon melting in my arms too. I’m too tired for anything else, he’s too tired for anything else, and it’s so bloody easy for us to fall asleep like that, tangled up in one another.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

He doesn’t tell me the next morning, not after all the talking I can manage on Pen’s ceremony and dress and everything. It’s a lazy morning. He called in to work from home (“No court days?” “No court days.”) and we slept in and stayed in bed hours longer and I still had three whole more days off work. I’m not in any rush to find out, I’m just happy I’ve gotten to hear him play now.

I ramble on and on about the States and everything that I’d missed about home and weird little language differences and all the things Pen had gone on about herself during our downtime. I think Baz might know her better than he thinks with how much I talk about her, but I’m not mad he didn’t come with me. I just missed him.

I don’t ask. I don’t need to ask. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

I’m happy to linger in lazy mornings like this forever, if he’ll be here with me for them.

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I keep thinking I’m going to tell her, and then I don’t. I keep thinking I should bring it up, but then I don’t. It’s just such a bloody happy day and I’m such a greedy, selfish sap. I want to keep it a happy day. We deserve more happy, lazy days.

I do play my violin for him, just like I’d said I would. I only just make it through about eight minutes today, but Simon smiles so beautifully for such a simple piece.

I’m going to tell him, I know it, just not today. Today I want to keep his smile just like it was when he woke up, refreshed and comfortable after a week out of our bed. I want to keep her just like this forever.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

It’s about two weeks later when Basil wakes up in a cold sweat next to me. It’s not the first time I’ve witnessed his night terrors, we’ve lived together far too long by now for me not to be at least a little familiar with them, but normally he goes through the motions quickly enough that I barely have time to comfort at all. This time must’ve been particularly visceral. I sit up beside him and he still hasn’t budged an inch, except to curl in on himself. I touch carefully, brushing my fingers through his thick, dark hair, brushing his bangs aside so they don’t stick to his sweat-slick skin and hum.

I hum whatever he’d played me last. Something by Bach, I think, but I’m not good at classical music. I am learning, a little, but I still can’t tell Beethoven from the Greatest Showman and apparently the latter is a musical, not a classical composition. I’m learning. Baz smiles whenever I get something right.

He unwinds enough to roll himself over and into my arms and I wrap him up like I’m a security blanket made just for him.

“Bloody nightmares…” His voice comes out in rasp, dry and angry, but I don’t push, I just hold him like that until he stops shaking, until his breathing settles out against my chest.

I glance at the clock. Twelve more hours till work. I can nap after this all settles if I need more sleep. I have time. “Think you can sleep again?” I ask it as gently as I can manage.

Baz shakes his head against my chest, but it’s alright, I just keep humming while he sinks deeper into my arms and the tangle of blankets around us. If there was less time, I’d even call out, but there’s plenty of time.

“I think I want to talk about it.”

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I’ve surprised him, I can tell. His mouth is doing that little ‘oh’ thing that she only does when she’s caught off guard. Maybe that’s fair, I haven’t talked about for long enough that maybe she was never truly expecting me to, but I have wanted to.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

He presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat and it brings me back to my senses enough to encourage him to keep going. “If you’re ready.”

Basil hums again and nods along, “I’m ready.”

I press a kiss to his temple and wait. I have time. I can always wait where Baz is concerned, but he doesn’t make me wait long. It spills out in chunks, but I fill in the blanks well enough. Trauma’s like that, I know, sometimes memories just don’t come back clean.

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I was twenty when it happened. It was winter break and I was driving back home for the holidays. The road had been slick from the storm but it was only a four hour drive, a little longer if I went easy, and I always go easy when I need to. So I’m headed home and thinking about what to get my sisters in the meanwhile and not at all worried about the process of getting there.

Of course, it was never me I had to worry about. A truck twice the size of my little Beetle comes hurtling down the opposite side of the road at a good twice my speed. It must’ve started hydroplaning at the exact right moment to cause him to swerve right into me.

There’s no time to react, no time to brake or swerve or anything at all.

There’s only the truck’s blinding headlights on a collision course straight for me.

I can still feel the hear the sound of the metal crunching together in front of me. I can still feel the pressure of the airbag going off against my face, against my hands. The way my arm had hit the center dash and turned blue almost immediately. The whiplash from my head flinging back so suddenly, the wrongness in my neck.

Simon’s petting through my hair as he listens to me, taking everything in, kissing my forehead again, and then pulling back enough to pull my hands up to kiss them too. She’s patient through it all and it’s not until the lull in my story that I realize I’ve been crying. Just a little. Just quietly while I go through it.

I lose myself in the realization for a moment, thoughts dissipating into nothing. I’m not sure where I was in the story, or where to pick up, it’s just all sort of a blur anyway. I let myself have my tears about and Simon, my sweet Simon, kisses my tears away and holds me closer through it.

“Is that what your nightmares are about?” Simon asks when my tears start to slow and I’ve worked myself further out of that ball of stress.

“No,” I answer, and it feels a bit silly, but also not at all. “My nightmares are… they’re about the first time I picked up my grandfather’s violin, after I’d supposedly healed enough to try again, and I dropped it.”

⋆｡˚ SIMON

Baz chokes when he confesses it, loses his voice halfway through the word dropped, but his mouth still forms the word it. My skill in lipreading fills in that blank too. “You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to, you know. It’s okay to be done talking.”

He hums low and shifts our hold so he’s more holding me now, wrapping his legs around mine and practically clinging. I don’t bother to resist. I don’t mind comforting him like this either. It’s plenty comfortable in Baz’s arms too.

“I don’t think there’s much else to say,” Baz breathes out when he finds his voice again, “If there is I can’t recall right now.”

I nuzzle his chest and tangle us up that much more thoroughly. “It’s alright, love… if you want to talk more later, I’m always here for you, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I love you.”

⋆｡˚ BAZ

Simon quiets in my arms after that and I can feel my exhaustion creeping up again. I press a kiss to her temple and let my thoughts drift away from my nightmares, from my spotty memories, from the little Volvo I had once loved so much. I suppose it saved my life that day, gave it’s own for me. If cars have souls, I hope it's thriving somewhere.

I let myself drift to thoughts of Simon, of our life. Of the time we’ve had together so far, of the time we’re going to have together. I think of his soft hair and softer marshmallow scent. I thought it was a perfume or cologne at first, but no. That’s just Simon, sugary sweet.

“Hey, Simon?”

She murmurs her own soft, unintelligible acknowledgment against my chest and I can tell from the weight of him that she’s drifting back off already.

“Thank you,” I say into the mess of her hair and she makes a happy little noise. Her own of course, anytime, always, without the mess of words. She makes me so bloody soft, so bloody comfortable. “I love you too.”

Simon’s little noise repeats itself and I can feel a smile crack my lips, just a little bit even after all the emotions thinking about the accident can give me.

“Rest well, love,” my words fall soft and Simon’s already gone, and I think I can manage the same. I think, probably, without dreaming terrible things all over again.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there's more of this to be posted #Bigender Nurse Simon Snow (He/She)#Lawyer Baz Pitch #soft snowbaz #emotional hurt/comfort #tw: car accident #alternating pov

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