#i get the appeal but i do not have any strong desires to interact with him in any way

[pankomako]

genuinely curious how many people share this sentiment

i ask because personally im demiromantic/demisexual and i'll think someone looks attractive but generally not feel any desire to date or sleep with them. im wondering if this is a common thing or if others think differently? please tell me your experience with this!

#polls #tumblr polls #i saw a poll asking if people are attracted to jerma but im honestly like #im not attractED to him in any way. i dont even particularly want to be his friend. but i do think he is attractive. yk. good-looking #i get the appeal but i do not have any strong desires to interact with him in any way #meanwhile with vinny im like yeah i also find him attractive but i would like to be friends with him based on common interests + his vibe #like damn he DO be kinda pretty. i would like to talk to him about alternative rock and music making

[buttercream-princess]

Playing The Game

Summary: Y/K and Dean have been secretly enjoying a friends-with-benefits arrangement for some time now, relishing in the pleasure and excitement that it brings. But when Dean unexpectedly reveals his feelings about someone else while under the influence, Y/K is left reeling and wondering where their relationship truly stands. Y/K must decipher between her newfound emotions and unspoken desires what she really wants: lust or love?

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Whole lotta’ ANGST, little bit of fluff, swearing, sexual objectification kink, SMUTTY AF, unprotected sex, quickie, public sex, unholy dirty talk, NSFW, interactive

DISCLAIMER: Every original Harry Potter characters in this story is 21+. My Hogwarts stories are always and only written as a university universe with grown ass characters.

Notes: This one has been sitting in the drafts for awhile. I’m thinking of turning it into a 5 part series because I’m too attached to this Dean at this point (Just like Y/K lol) - he’s so cheeky, I love it!

*Gifs and images were not created by and do not belong to me. All rights go to owners and creators!!

(Not edited | proof-read)

_______________________

You sleepily reach for your phone underneath your pillows and sit up against the bed frame. 

You check your notifications; still no text from Dean.

Tired and irritated, you let out a groan of frustration and slump back underneath your covers. All you could think was how much you missed him, it was an unfamiliar feeling borderlining on uncomfortable. You never ached for a response from him, since you always had access to him. You were each other's person, but that now seemed called off. It felt almost unfair how easily he was going on with life without you.

It was a long night of tossing and turning, you were unable to get any sleep. Once the birds began their routine songs at dawn, you knew there was no point in trying to get some shut eye, class begins in a few hours.

You couldn’t even think about studying today, you were bitter and strung up. It was all his fault. If he just reached out to you, that would’ve put your racing thoughts at bay. At this point, even an emoji text would’ve been fine. But no, he was radio silent.

Your argument aside, Dean ghosting you was so out of character for him. Dean always made sure to check in with you, you guys were basically joined at the hip. You and Dean have been good friends since your first week at Hogwarts University. You took up the Magical Fine Arts class as an elective in the 1st year. It was Dean who asked you to be his model for the end of year project, to which you agreed to and along the way, you found yourself spending more time with him than you were studying. Dean was funny, charming and adventurous, just your kind of fun. It seemed he had a strong liking for you too because over time, the two of you were inseparable; wherever you saw him, you were always by his side and vice versa. 

But over the last summer, your relationship with him developed into something more physical. It started platonic and friendly but as the semesters passed, your body couldn’t deny his sex appeal anymore. One night at your studio dorm after 2 and a half bottles of red wine, you were both wasted and bonding over your love of muggle music since the both of you were half-blood. That night you went from bestfriends to lovers in private and there was no looking back.

You both agreed to keep it under wraps in consideration of not rocking the boat that was your friend group with Blaise, Lee and Alicia. The odds of awkwardly tinting the group dynamic with your situationship was too much to take a chance on. So for the sake of secrecy, all emotions and entanglements was off the table. It kept your friendship balanced. It was simple and you liked it that way. 

As for Dean in the bedroom, he’s incredibly cocky and is well aware of the power he has over you. Although you’ve never casually talked about your attraction to him, he remembers every moan and moment of begging that left your mouth while he turned you out. He always finds a way to remind you just how needy you are for his dick. Most late nights you’d get a text from him, saying, “Can’t sleep. Come over.” and you already knew what time it was the second you got the notification.

Hooking up with him had become a weekly - almost daily ritual so you didn’t usually approach Dean for sex but by now it had been close to three weeks since your last conversation with him and you were almost feral for his face between your legs. He would never go this long without asking you to come over, it was so unlike him. 

There was once a whole month where you couldn’t get off eachother. You’d get a quickie in before and between classes, in any private room you could find in the castle. The astronomy tower, the room of requirement, the House Elves restroom. Even in Filch’s office once, which you left in absolute shambles, even staining his desk with dry cum - from the both of you. It was hysterical when he reported the scene in the great hall during dinner. You and Dean forced back fits of giggles with mouths full of food, knowing it was you two who defiled his office while everyone else in the hall was completely oblivious. Sneaking around with him had its benefits, one of them being you had a massive secret that only you and Dean shared, as if it was an inside joke that only you and your favorite person knew the origin of. You could call it special. Sure, hiding the truth sometimes felt like a burden but most times it felt electrifying.

While Dean was AWOL, something fierce was brewing in you this morning. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you were edging on desperation. You were fine with not hearing from him the first couple of days, you figured he was just busy. But once you saw him actively going out his way to dodge you, that was all your mind needed to start jumping to conclusions. 

Why was he ghosting you? Did he not wanna hook up anymore?  And if so, why? 

You blankly stare at your phone while your mind wanders off and pictures all kinds of scenarios for his weird behavior.

You recall the last time the two of you spoke, a late night from a few weeks ago….

________________________________________________________

3 Weeks Ago…

Everyone had just sat the OWLS exams and it was finally done with. This year's OWLS was making up for 40% for your final grade of the semester, the stakes were high. It even ripped Granger a new one. And if Miss Know It All is anxious about a test, you should be terrified. Which of course, everyone was.

Yet somehow you came out the other side of the exam alive, along with your friends, and what better way to celebrate the end of a stressful and anxiety producing test than to get absolutely wasted? 

That’s exactly what you and your friends did. Lee and Alicia went off to Hogsmeade bar to celebrate, but you, Dean and Blaise was too tired from a long day of studying to make the trek to town so the three of you shared a bottle of Don Julio in the Griffindor dorm kitchenette. The night was still young and you spent it vibing to music, taking shots and swapping scandalous stories that were only for your friends group ears. It was always good times when you linked with Thomas and Zabini, the three of you were the bestest of bestfriends. You all just naturally clicked with each other and could yarn for hours, which was something worth looking forward to in your day. The night was going good and your stomach was in pain from how much the boys made you laugh, but along the way, the three of you landed on a subject that would change the trajectory of your relationship with Dean…for the better and worse.

“Can we please talk about Fred and Angela? I’ma be all the way real, Fred is punching hardddd man.” Dean exclaims.

Blaise lets out an annoyed moan and perks up from the bench, throwing his hands in the air.

“Finally somebody fucking said it!”

You smirk and raise your glass. Angela Johnson is an etheric goddess walking amongst mere wizards and witches. And Fred is…well, he’s Fred Weasley. Nuff’ said.

“Right?! I’ll bloody drink to that.” You throw back the rest of your mug only to have a few drops hit your tongue. Time for a top up. You scoot off the kitchen top and walk to the fridge, getting some soda to mix with your tequila.

“Look, I love Fred. He’s my best mates brother, Maker bless Ron - the little shit. But how Fred even got a chance with Angie? That’s surely one of Hogwarts greatest mysteries and this school’s packing loads of them cunts.” Dean voices.

You chuckle while fixing yourself a drink, listening in on the boys being messy.

“I’m saying, like? He don’t even know what to do with that, he can’t handle all that.” Blaise says, reeking of jealousy. It was hilarious, you couldn’t hold back the giggles.

“No Weasley can handle a baddie, let alone a black goddess like Angela.” You chime in.

“Exactly. He needs to go for someone like Luna or Pansey, someone in his lane! No offense to them but that’s more Fred’s avenue. Not Angelina Johnson for Merlin's sake!”

You gasp, followed by a chortle. The gossiping behaviour between these two grown ass men was worse than you thought.

“Oh my god Blaise! I know you did not just say that! Not too much on Luna now, that’s my girl. I love that little weirdo.” You insert, jokingly death staring down Zabini. He stares back at you with knitted brows, challenging you. After a few seconds, he blinks and child-like laughter echoes throughout the kitchen from the three of you, laughing at the silly game.

Then Dean loudly clears his throat. 

“No but listen, on the topic of Angie…I mean, shiettt, put me in coach. I can handle that.” Dean lowly blurts amongst the laughing. 

Silence falls in the room, especially from you. You go mute, processing what he just said.

Blaise snorts.

“I mean you know what I mean? She need someone equipped for the job.” 

Blaise daps Dean up in agreement. Both the boys cackle.

Your eyes unintentionally squint and you clench your grip on the bottle of liquor, completely thrown off guard by Dean’s comment. He sure knew how to get a raise out of you. You could hear he was joking, but still, your body reacted on its own accord, knotting up your stomach. You loudly puff out a sigh and plop the bottle back on the bench with a bang. 

“Fuck, that was loud. My bad.” You stifly apologize. 

“You’re alright.” Dean replies.

“You were saying?” You ask, then clear your throat.

Of course you didn’t want him to. But a sabotaging part of you wanted to see how far he’d take it. 

“Look, Angela’s a ten outta ten. Peng as fuck, her body is crazy, and she’s got great banter. I’m first in line when she drops the dead weight that Fred is.”

Wow. He’s playing with fire. You couldn’t believe he’d froth over Angela like that right in front of you. It stinged to say the least.

The two boys cheer glasses and talk more about their thoughts on the couple.

You stir your drink, quietly wheezing to yourself hysterically. Nothing about what Dean said was funny to you, you just couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of him gawking over Angela whilst you were in the room, drunk or not. 

Dean glances over to you with the utmost cheeky smirk, cocking up a brow. He was doing it on purpose and it was some kind of emotional torture he wanted to commit to you.

Why was he doing it? What is he getting out of this shit? you thought.

A smug look was locked on his face as he listened to Blaise carry on, but his gaze was focused on you. He watched you closely, seeing if he’d you’d give him any reaction at all, all while stifling back chuckles. Your silent rage of envy was amusing to him it seemed.

As Dean's eyes lingers on you, you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and anger. You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. You remind yourself that this is just Dean being his usual flirtatious self and that he probably didn't mean anything by it. But it still hurts and there was no refusing that.

You take a long sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tension in the air. Soon the boys stop talking and you can feel Blaise and Dean's eyes on you, waiting for a response. But you don't give them the satisfaction. Instead, you change the subject.

"Talking about the Twins, did you guys hear about the prank that the twins pulled on Filch last week? Filch went off his head, it was hilarious!"

Blaise and Dean both laugh, relieved that the tension has been broken. They eagerly listen as you recount the details of the prank, and soon enough, everyone is laughing and joking again.

The rest of the night you barely spoke. You chuckled here and there, showing face in front of Blaise. But you were distracted, lost in intrusive thoughts. You couldn’t shake off Dean’s opinions about Angela. You were salty as fuck, so by the time it hit 2AM, you bowed out. 

“As much as I’d love to stay up with you guys, I need to sleep. OWLS kicked my ass. I will see you wonderful people tomorrow.” You slide off the bench and grab the Tequila.

“Yeah shit, it’s almost 3. I’ll head too.” Dean checks his phone and stands up.

“Fair. But first, cuddle before bedtime.” Blaise drunkenly pulls you into a tight hug and pecks the top of your head. Blaise is the biggest softy, you had no idea how he was sorted into Slytherin.

“Okayyy mummy. Night Blaisey. Love ya” You tease, squeezing your arms around him.

“Night bub. Love you too.”

You pull away and head for the dorm hallway. The two boys hang back and say their goodbyes. You soon hear Dean catch up behind you, following you to the dorms. It was a quiet stroll to the rooms. There were many things you wanted to say but your pride had a tight muzzle on your mouth.

Dean breaks the silence, “He’s a good one, that Blaise.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Love him.”

The rest of the way to your room was silent. You pass the corridor to the men’s dorm but he stays on your route, following you to the women's dorms.

You scoff. 

If he thinks he’s getting some tonight, he’s got you all the way fucked up. You don’t mention him following you though, you figured you’d pop off at him in the room. And boy, was he in for a storm.

Dean laughs, catching your attitude. But he doesn’t say a word because he knew you wouldn't turn him away, you never do. Usual overconfident Dean behavior.

You were steaming all the way up to your door. Your blood wasn’t boiling, it was burning. You were contemplating blowing your cool and letting him have it right now and here out in the hallway. You couldn’t understand in the moment why he had you so vexed over banter but you didn’t care, you were hurting and he needed to know. But instead of blowing up on him, you decided silence was the best treatment to handle Thomas. 

You huff back the emotions that were flooding to the surface, your face was heating up with rage - tears were sure to follow soon. You just needed to get inside your room before you let it all out. 

You take your keys out of your jeans pocket to unlock the door and place the key to the hole but it doesn't budge. Your hands were shaking and you were on the verge of crying out of pure frustration. You already had a mountain of unexplainable feelings that was rocking your shit, this stupid key was just the cherry on top. Pursing your lips together, you swallow back the rogue wave emotions on your heart while staying faced to the door. You couldn’t let Dean see just how miserable you were over something so minor and stupid.

He closes in behind you. The warmth of his breath tickles your skin as he bends down and leans his chin in the crook of your neck. 

“Give it here you goose.” He chuckles.

Taking the keys out of your hands, he unlocks and opens the door on the first try. You grumble cuss words under your breath. Even when helping you, you couldn’t stand him. Not right now, everything he did irked your soul. 

You step into the apartment and head straight to your kitchen cabinet. There was a heavy weight of feelings on your chest and drinking it away was the only option. Yes, you were already drunk, but definitely not drunk enough to forget how crossed up he has you.

You slam open the kitchen cupboard door, grabbing the biggest cup you own and quickly fill it up with the Tequila in your other hand. Dean closes the door behind him and walks over to you.

“Woah there, fairy. I think the only thing you need to be drinking right now is water.”

He grabs the bottle and glass out of your hand, chucks the alcohol in your cup down the kitchen sink and fills it with water from the sink.

“Oh, so now you know what I need?”

He turns his head to you, furrowed in brows and squints his eyes. He studies your face, the way he looks at you makes you feel exposed. He knew what you were poking at, he could read every subliminal between your words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to wake up with a hangover in the morning.”

A soft friendly smile forms on his lips, which only riles you up more. Can he not read the fucking room? 

“Yeah well, maybe I like waking up with hangovers.”

He snorts and turns off the tap, walking back over to you with the glass of water.

“Maybe you do. Looks like I’m learning something new about you everyday, beautiful. Drink this.”

You place your hand on your hip and stare back at him blank in the face. You weren't doing anything he wanted you to do.

“No, you drink it. And choke for all I care.”

You turn on your heels and head to the bathroom with the bottle of Don Julio still in your hand. He chortles, amused.

“Only if you’re the one doing the choking, baby.” 

You grunt at his chirpy attitude, absolutely done with how witty he is. Usually you like it, he always says the right things to make you swoon over him, but now it was just ammo to get under your skin.

You turn on the showers, letting it run hot to steam up the room. As you undressed, you couldn’t help but feel stupid for letting Dean get to you. You take a gulp from the bottle.

With every clothing piece you took off, memories of him kissing that part of your body flooded your mind, accompanied by visuals of him doing that to Angela. It was tormenting. You take another sip from the bottle.

You step under the streaming water, letting it wash over your face. Finally, the tears fall. It felt good. You knew you were crying over something so silly but you didn’t want to compartmentalise, the only way you were getting through this was by letting yourself have a sook and feel everything, something you never did when it came to Dean. Feeling anything emotional towards Dean was something you put off limits from the beginning of your situationship with him, it kept your feelings safe in case things got ugly between you two. But now you were feeling the burn of setting that rule in the first place.

As you stood under the hot water, you let your mind wander. You thought about everything that had led up to this moment. You thought about how you and Thomas had started off as friends, and how things had escalated so quickly. You thought about the passion and the intensity that you had shared, and how it had felt like nothing could ever come between the two of you.

But now, as you stood there alone, you realized that things were different. You couldn't ignore the fact that Thomas had been with other people and could be hooking up with other girls right at this moment, and that he might not have been as committed to you as you had thought, even if it was just friends with benefits. You couldn't ignore the feeling of betrayal that had been gnawing at your heart since you had found out how he felt about Angela.

When you began hooking up with Dean, you had no idea it would cause so much pent up frustration and desire in your body. Sex would help release this energy from the system, but there was an emotional side to things that had you questioning everything. Surely after some time, you began to ask yourself:

“Do I have feelings for Dean?”

Just hearing those words in your thoughts made you angry.

“Fuck!” You yell, “What is wrong with you?!” you ask yourself in frustration.

How could you let it get this far? How could you let Dean work his natural love potion on you? You thought you were better than this. Better than all the other girls who fell for his stupid addictive charm.

Three knocks tap on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, concern in his voice.

“Yes.” You sniffle.

You see him in the reflection of the bathroom glass, taking off his clothes and shoes, all he was left in was a singlet and boxers. He walks towards you and opens the shower door and leans his arm up against the shower frame. You face towards the shower head, not giving him any form of attention.

“The waters getting out.” You protest.

“I don’t care. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm.”

He pulls his singlet over his head, tossing it aside and kicks off his briefs, stepping into the shower and closing the door.

Tears were still streaming from your eyes, you stood underneath the flush of the water. You didn’t want to let him see you in tears. A few painful minutes go by and you hesitate to tell him off. Although you were mad with him, you loved sharing showers with him, it was one of the few intimate things that you did with him that wasn’t sex.

You sniffle and clear your croaky throat, it was a dead giveaway.

Dean steps closer under the water, saying a wandless spell to the soap, which placed a dollop of cleanser in his hands. He places both hands on your shoulders, lathering up and covering every inch of your body with the suds.

Dean dials down the water temperature and makes it a sweet warm stream and sways you by your waist from under the water. 

He was smooth, even in instances like this. He didn’t need to use spells or charms, he just intuitively had a way with you that always got to your core. He observes you, adjusts his approach and works his magic on you. 

“Y’know,” He pulls the hair in front of your face behind your neck and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, “You’re allowed to tell me when I fuck up.”

“Huh?”

“I know I said something that made you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by his admission. He was usually so confident and self-assured, it was refreshing to see him vulnerable like this.

“I just don’t know what to say,” you admit, feeling ashamed of your own emotions.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he reassures you, “We both can just be silent for all I care. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, always.”

He leans in and kisses you gently on the lips, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. For a moment, you allow yourself to be held, to feel safe in his arms. But then reality hits you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small shower space.

“No, you’re not here for me. That’s not what it felt like when we were with Blaise,” you accuse him, the anger rising up in your voice, “You just want to keep me around for when you’re bored or lonely. You don’t actually care about me.” you exclaim, accidentally revealing your resentment.

Dean looks hurt by your words, but he doesn’t back down.

His hand slides up from your thighs to your waist.

“I knew something was wrong. You don’t have to act with me. Just tell me what I did.” He calmly says.

His touch goes over your stomach, just above your nether regions, but he doesn’t go further, Dean knew to be gentle with you in the moment.

“Forget it. I’m just trying to shower.” You say, pulling away from his grasp, retreating back to icing him out

He goes to speak but he pauses, you could see on his face that he was calculating his next words. Lost in his thoughts, he says a spell to the body wash again and goes over his body.

You lean against the shower wall, arms crossed, bottle still in hand and looking up to the ceiling. Tears still falling from your eyes disguised as droplets of shower water.

Dean grabs the bottle from your hold and pulls you into the water with him, tilting your head up to his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday and I know you weren't either, so there’s no point in either of us playing dumb. I’m sorry– please believe me.”

You clench your jaw.

“About what?”

“What I said about Angela. It was stupid. I only said it to get a rise out of you.”

Is this shit a game to him? Your emotions just a ploy for him. And for what? Just so he can feel better about himself? You wanted to hear an apology from him but you didn’t expect it to come with the harsh reality of the situation.

“You’re right, it was stupid. I don’t care though.” You lie through gritted teeth, “What does it matter? You were only speaking your truth.”

“That’s the thing. I wasn't. I was saying all that shit just to get a reaction outta’ you and it was beyond wrong to do that. You don’t deserve that.”

You meet his eyes, he looks completely sincere and open but you quickly look away, feeling a small sob build at the bottom of your throat. The liquor had taken over your emotions and was ready to let it all pour out.

“Why Dean? What's the point?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought if I said that, you would’ve said something, anything. Maybe I just wanted to hear you claim m—”

“No, Dean. You didn’t hear me. What’s the point of us?”

He stares into both of your eyes, trying to figure you out. Under his gaze, usually you would melt but right now, all you felt was a sense of grief. 

“Right…oh, righttt.” He sternly responds.

He loosens his grip on you and tilts his head, squinting his eyes and licks his bottom lip, a grim smile forms on his lips as he starts to sarcastically laugh. 

“Oh. Message received.”

He leans down and places his lips on your forehead, chuckling against your skin while giving you a kiss then exiting the shower, taking no time to dry himself with the towel from the rack. 

“When you’re done with whatever this is, let me know.”

You stand there, feeling a mix of confusion, anger, and desire all at once. You can hear the sound of the bathroom door closing as Dean leaves, and you're left alone in the shower, still processing everything that just happened.

You take a deep breath and turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the rack. You take one last chug of tequila before placing it on the sink. As you dry yourself off, you can't help but feel disappointment. You didn’t know what you wanted. You were torn between giving him the cold shoulder, letting him feel your anger or to give in, let him right his wrongs and lay up in his arms where you wanted to be. 

You swipe your hand across the foggy mirror above the bathroom sink and look back at your reflection, red eyes and puffy eyelids from crying. You knew what the reasonable thing to do was but somewhere deep down, you knew this was an internal issue. You longed to be consistently chosen, whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was an inner turmoil that you had and Dean just happened to be the person who you wanted to act on it. It was unfair to him to put him in such a position without him knowing, but you wanted him to just know what you wanted and to provide it instantly. It was selfish of you but you couldn't help it.

The bitter truth stands - he’s wasn’t your boyfriend, you weren’t in a relationship with him and he wasn’t officially yours. How could you possibly ask him to do boyfriend things without actually being your man. Which posed the next question:

“Do I want to be Dean’s girlfriend?”

You wince again at the intimate ideas flooding in. But the wonder stayed with you this time, replaying back memories in your mind of Dean’s beautiful smile before he laces you with kisses all over your face. You wanted that, all the time. You wanted him all the time.

You finish drying off and walk to the bedroom, still lost in your thoughts. As you approach the bedroom door you see Dean sitting on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up as you enter the room, and his expression softens. "Hey," he says, patting the seat next to him. "Come sit."

You hesitate for a moment before taking a seat next to him. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close, and you feel a sudden rush of warmth.

"I'm sorry for how I acted in the shower. Actually I’m sorry for everything," he says, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to upset you, I was acting out of line this whole night. I just wanted to make things right."

You turn to look at him, and his eyes meet yours. You can see the honesty in his stare, and you feel yourself start to soften. Just as you open your mouth to apologize, he speaks.

“And look, if you don’t want to be around me right now, I understand. I’ll leave-”

He goes to stand up but you pull him by the hem of his shirt. By now you were more wasted than you anticipated and didn't want to be alone with your intrusive thoughts.

“No. Stay.” You slur out.

Relieved, he sits back down and looks at you in silence for a few moments, a flicker in his eyes.

“God, look at you. You’re so cute.” 

He squeezes your cheeks between his hands once before getting up from your bed and walking towards your drawers, opening them and shuffling clothes around. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pyjamas. It’s time you go to bed, you.”

You giggle burp. You didn’t want to go to sleep, you still wanted to talk about your feelings to him. But for some reason you found it endearing he wanted to put you to bed without sex being in the context.

Dean picks out a set of comfy clothes and walks back over to you.

“Up.” He orders you. Your towel drops to your feet and he fits your shirt over your head then continues to dress you in your clothes.

“Somni Modus (Bedtime mode).” Dean says a wandless spell which dims the lighting, lights the candles, puffs your pillows and pulls back your covers. You crawl to your side of the bed and Dean joins you on the other side, pulling the covers over you.

He leans on a pillow and props himself up on an elbow, facing you, watching your dizzy drunk self get comfortable in bed, cuddling a small pillow. He smiles, looking at you in awe. You roll over and feel the urge to pour your heart out to him, 

“I probably wouldn’t say this to you when I’m sober but I think I-”

He cuts you off.

"Darling, you’re way too intoxicated right now. I promise we can talk more when you’re in the right state of mind. Just come and find me, and I’ll listen, okay? But for now, you need some rest.”

You pout, slightly saddened. There were still some things you wanted to get off your chest. But you don’t argue with him, your eyelids was feeling heavy and the room was spinning the more you tried to stay awake.

Dean tucks you in and kisses your forehead, then heads towards the door.

As he's about to leave, you reach out and grab his hand. "Please don't go," you say, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pauses, then smiles softly and sits back down next to you, pulling you into a soft embrace. "I won't go anywhere," he says, stroking your hair, "I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep."

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

As you drift off to sleep, you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay with him after all.

______________________

Currently…

That was the last you heard from Dean. Your memories of the night had a few blanks, considering how much you drank, though you definitely remember how you felt. You spent many days, wracking your brain over why the night panned out like that and why he would promise to listen to you if he was just gonna ignore you in the first place. 

You decided when you fully woke up, that was it. No more using your voluptas wand (Pleasure wand) and pretending it was Dean. You needed an explanation, a good fuck and to be on talking terms again and he was the only person who could give it to you. You flicked open his school schedule on your phone, which he had previously sent you so you would know his free periods for quickies or some head in the Elf janitor closet. You two were just that ravenous for each other.

You scrolled to his classes for the day and saw that he had a morning quidditch game against Slytherin. Dean had to be already up at the field, stretching and preparing for the match, he was an early bird. 

You stand up from your bed and commit to your decision. You take a brisk shower and dress for the occasion - not showing too much so it shows you mean business but leaving out a little skin for a subtle hint of slutty to show him what he's been missing. Perfect.

It was a cold lengthy walk down to the Quidditch field. No one was awake except for the winter birds, owls and the sun kissing the sky with orange hues. As you neared closer to the male Quidditch changing tent, you went over in your mind exactly what you were going to say to him.

“So, no text? No. That’s lame. Okay, so when were you gonna tell me we weren’t doing this anymore. Ew! that too mushy for 5AM in the morning ,Y/K.” You thought to yourself.

Every sentence that came to conception only made you sound needy and that you wanted him more than you were willing to let him know. But you missed him badly, and you wanted him again for crying out loud! it was the truth. Him finding this out was a risk you were gonna have to take.

You stop out the front of the tent opening and release a big heavy sigh.

“Here goes nothing.”

You lift up the material of the tents doors and see the man of the hour. Butterflies swarm your insides. This had to be the first time you’ve ever felt anxious around him.

“Dean?”

He pauses his stretching and turns around. His beautiful cinnamon brown eyes travel from your legs, up to your eyes. He starts walking over to you with rush in his step.

“Right, so I don’t what’s happening between us but I–”

“Well, look who decided to come around.” He finally speaks.

Dean grabs your face into the palm of his hands and pulls you into a haste kiss. His tongue took no time finding yours. The tense from your body drops as you find yourself seeping into his pull, right where you want to be.

The feel of lips and touch felt like feeding an addiction you’ve been weaned off for eons and you’re getting a much needed hit again. But you still had questions. You pull from his kiss and ask away.

“First of all, why didn’t you hit me up? And ignoring me?”

“I was waiting.”

“For?”

“For when you’d make the first move.”

Your mouth opens wide as it forms into a smirk. From the sounds of it, he wanted to be chased by you. So the man has emotional needs and wants besides getting a load off. Who knew? 

“Dean Thomas playing the waiting game? Seriously?”

“Oh shut up. I missed you.” he gives you another deep kiss then comes up, “That’s the last time I’m waiting for you to make the call. You almost drove me mad, woman.” his hands slides underneath your skirt and palms your ass cheek in his hand.

You press your body up against his, feeling his member already bricked up. And just like that, gasoline was thrown into the fiery tension between you two like it never left and it felt like pure electricity.

“Please tell me you didn’t jerk off. I want you at your best.”

“Like I said, I was waiting for you. Nothing can satisfy me the way you do.” He says, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

You moan in response, feeling the heat rising between your legs. You pull him closer, your hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“We’re gonna need to have a serious talk but I need this first.” You breathe out as your hand slips down to his 9 inch member over his shorts while his hands explore your body.

“Of course. We can talk things over. Do me a favor first, pretty girl? bend over.” He takes your hand, spinning you around and positions you over the stacked bat trunk. You oblige to his request and bend over the case, exposing all of your sex to him.

Dean wastes no time, pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, revealing your wetness. He smirks at the sight, knowing he's the only one who can make you this soaked. He takes a moment to appreciate the view before teasingly running a finger over your folds, making you gasp.

“Please, Dean. Don't tease me. It’s been too long, I can’t wait anymore” You moan out, your body trembling with need.

He chuckles and slides a finger inside of you, pumping it slowly. He adds another finger, hitting all the right spots. He was pumping your pleasure button to new highs, making you buck back against his long strong fingers. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body starts to shake.

“Dean baby, I'm gonna cum.” You whimper out, unable to hold on any longer, and just before you feel the eruption of bliss, he pulls out.

He places a kiss on the back of your neck, “Wait for me baby. I know you miss it.”

And just like that, Dean’s Gryffindor jersey shorts and briefs drop to his ankles, you feel his member hot and hard rubbing against your ass cheeks. He takes his time and slides the tip down between your cheeks, against your asshole, to your hungry flesh. He pushes in slowly and immediately you feel the evidence of his absence. His size hurt like hell but it hurt so good, it already sent you over the edge into climax.

“You kept it nice and tight for me baby, hmmm?”

He dips in deeper, filling you up wholly, hitting your pleasure spot at the back of your pussy, driving you wild. You were gushing all over his dick yet as he pulls back, you feel the friction of your walls wrapped around him like a fitted glove, as if your pussy was designed just for him to fuck in.

He holds the hem of his shirt through his gritted teeth so it didn’t block the view. He wanted to see every motion of your needy cunt taking him whole. He paces himself while adjusting his tip at your entrance again. The tension and anticipation between the two of you was thick and vicious. Both of you knew what was about to go down, once he starts stroking, it’s game over for your precious walls. 

Leaning down to you, he grabs a heap of your hair and twirls it in a fist, pulling your head back so his cheek was gashing against yours while he busts his first thrust into you, making your body jerk in intense euphoria. He goes again and again, until he picks up a rhythm. Your bodies rub together in heated unison, stimulating your senses to the nastiest levels possible, as he shoves kisses to your mouth, sucking on your tongue and leaving sloppy kisses on your cheeks and ear, thirsting for your affection. With every stroke, you’re sent into an oblivion of pure ecstasy.

Muffled grunts and mumbles of pleasure was all you could hear. It was killing Dean not to talk his shit. He’s a vocal lover, he knew all the right things to say that would brings out the animalistic freak in you. But in this tent, soft moans and whispers was all he could give you.

You rock your core back against his length, making him damn near lose all control and grip your hips with a tight hook as if he was cautiously trying to steady you. Throwing it back on him was a dangerous game, the control you had over him in the moment was unbearable. He desperately slows down his rhythm, nears your ear and mutters through his breath, “Oh, so you wanna play like that, huh?”

A devilish smile grows on your lips and you catch your breath in the quick spell he’s giving your walls. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cluelessly respond.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

He pants on top of you, nestling his face in your hair, taking in your scent and licking up the droplets of sweat on your back.

“Two can play that game, sweetheart.” He mumbles into your skin.

 A half smile forms on his lips as he slams back into you. He chuckles as you begin to lose it under him again, the sight of your unraveling was pure entertainment for him. He was well aware of just how good he puts it on you.

He stands up and spreads your cheeks apart while observing the view.

“I love seeing your pretty pussy take this dick. Why’s that pussy so good, hmm?” He grunts out.

Dean halts and draws back so only the tip is in.

“I said, why is that pussy so good?” he squeezes your face between his hand and turns your head to him, making you look up at him in the eyes as he rams in and out of you, leaving you silently gasping for air. Rolls of the orgasms he gave you just moments ago were still coming over you.

“I think I need to fuck you before every match.” 

He picks his pace back up, filling you entirely. Bending down, his lips swipe across yours, teasing your desperate mouth.

“I bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you? Tearing that pussy up every game.”

You look back to find his eyes piercing into yours as he strokes you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you: under him, stretched and slutted out. He was driving you insane.

You moan in response, feeling his wood flesh you out like there was no tomorrow. The idea of being fucked by him every match was both exhilarating and dangerous. You knew it would be hard to resist him before every match, knowing he had pent up aggression for the quidditch field. It was intimidating how easily he dominated you like this. But right now, all you could think about was how good it made you feel, being his little cum bucket.

“Yes,” you gasp out, “I want you to fuck me every game.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You always spread your legs for me like a good fucking whore, no matter the time or place.”

His features soften and his eyebrows furrow in. He closes his eyes and crashes lips to yours, groaning in your mouth. His strokes deepened inside you to the back of your walls, he wouldn’t dare to pull back a single inch, he wanted to feel all your tightness around him. You clench your pussy lips as he rests balls deep inside you, the pleasure mixing in the pain of his shaft hitting your cervix sent you over once more. You bend further across the trunk, trying to process all the sensations he was giving you, shying from his stroke.

Dean pulls you back, burrying his cock deeper than he was before. You whimper through another nut with teary eyes and slippery sweat all over your body. There wasn’t any words you could fathom that could explain the bliss he was fucking into you. 

“Don’t run, baby. Be a good girl, take it.” he whispers, watching your face go through levels of rapture.

He pauses and strokes one more time, steadying himself before giving you another row of toe curling plows. Retracting out and immediately ramming right back in. He continuously rips into you, not giving you a single moment to gather yourself. 

“Take it. Take all this fucking dick. I missed this pussy too much. I missed you so much baby!” 

His voice cracks into a deep tone, moaning out all his nasty thoughts to you, “You feel so good, you always do. My pretty little whore.”

And just like that, hearing him talk nasty to you sparks the freak in you to life. You start fucking him back, applying all the pressure to his cock.

“Yes baby. I’m a fucking whore. I’m your whore.” You screech out.

You were gone, completely lost in the heat of passion. Dean bought out filthy taboo in you that you didn’t even know had a place in your desires.

“Use me like a fucking toy. I’m just an object for your cum. Nut inside me.”

“Oh fuckkkk.”

His cum shoots against the back of your core. As much as he tried, he couldn’t hold back the roaring moan that left his mouth. You felt his load fill you to the brim as it oozed outside your slit and down the back of your thighs.

“Damn girl, what the…fuck. I haven’t nut that good in a minute…” He weakly pants, his body going limp against yours.

You tiredly chuckle, too exhausted to try to speak, basking in all the high sensations still running through your body.

He doesn’t pull out, he smiles and moves the strands of hair that were slicked against your face behind your ear.

“So that’s what you like? Being my toy?” He inquisitively mumbles between huffs, leaving soft pecks against your bare skin.

You freeze in embarrassment, wanting to hide from his grasp and gaze.

“Oh my g- I don’t even know why I said that. I say stupid shit when we fuck.”

“Well hold on now, who said it was stupid?”

You cover your face in embarrassment with your hand. Sure, the thought of him using you like a fleshlight is enough to make you cum from the thought alone but you couldn’t admit that to him, that was sensitive information for only you, your toys and your spank bank to know. Plus, it would only make him more arrogant knowing how much power play gets you off.

“If you’d allow it, I think you’d make a perfect beautiful tight toy for me.” He caresses your thigh,  soothing over the indented marks of his fingers from digging into your skin.

He brings your hands from your face as he hardens inside you, already ready to make a slut out of you again.

You gasp and look at him with widened eyes. “Already?” 

“Baby, you actually feel like heaven…can you blame me?” He tilts his head and smiles that cocky all knowing smile.

“You’re such a slut.” you laugh off.

“That makes two of us, sweetheart.”

He gives you a kiss accompanied by slow strokes. You coo from the soreness of your walls being worn out but you ached for another round, his sex was a pleasurable craving you would never get enough of.

From a far distance, you can hear a crowd of people chatting and laughing. 

“Fuck. Shit. What time is it?” Dean abruptly tugs his full length out of you, pulling up his shorts.

“I’m not sure? I lost track of time ages ago.” You frantically look around you and over the trunk for your underwear.

Dean helps you look around and remembers he put it in the pocket of his shorts when he was undressing you.

“I think you’ll be needing this.” 

He gets down on his knees and helps you put the panties back on, wiping his cum away from your thighs with a gym towel from the equipment basket. He slows his pace when he draws his touch up to your hips. You raise your brows, wondering why he stops rushing.

“Dean?”

He lays a kiss on you clit against the fabric and looks up at you with bright eyes and a smirk, caressing the back of your thigh.

“You free after the game? I have a feeling I’ll be needing to use my toy.”

“What? You ask now with people right outside? You know you can just text me after the game.”

He stands up and pulls you by your waist into him.

“I could, but I wanna hear you say it.”

He bites down on his bottom lips, waiting for the magic words. You antsily look at the exit of the tent, ready for players to start rolling in at any moment.

“Dean! They’re right outside.”

He raises his brows, not budging to let go of you. Either he didn’t give a fuck that anyone knew you were fucking or he was just that naturally bold and stubborn. You were sure it was the latter. Either way, you couldn’t resist his charm.

“Yes, I have a free period after your game to fuck.” You submit, coyly smiling and rolling your eyes.

Satisfied, he presses his lips against yours. “Good girl.”

“Okay, now I’m leaving.” you say against his kiss and step away to head for the exit.

“Yeah, get of here ya’ weirdo! Why are you in the male changing tents anyways? Pervert!” He exclaims loud enough for even the people outside to hear.

You halt and turn back at him in disbelief, breaking into laughter.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”

“You love it.” He chuckles and gives your ass a quick slap.

You scoff. Before you could give a proper reply, the male cohort of the quidditch team enter into the tent.

“Morning Dean…and Y/K?” Ron approaches.

“Left my phone in the common room last night. Good thing Y/K is like totally obsessed with me and knew I had a game this morning.” Dean jokes, mimicking an American valley girl accent, “She came and dropped it off for me first thing.” he shoots you a wink as he makes the sneaky innuendo.

The balls on this guy. Unbelievable. You had to admit, it was fucking sexy though.

“Well that’s the last time I do that. I’ll just let the house elves take it to lost and found next time.”

He laughs. “That’s fair. Thanks anyways bro.”

Bro. Oh he’s really selling it, this guy needs an academy. You’re aware he’s only showing face but for crying out loud, it’s too soon, his cum is still warm inside you. No matter the fuss though, it’s him who’s gonna be moaning baby when you ride the brakes off him later.

You look once over at Ron then shoot Dean a thin lipped smile.

“Don’t mention it, bruv. Just focus on winning, we don’t need any more house points to Slytherin. Knock em’ dead.” 

His brow cocks up as he squints, catching all the shade you’re throwing his way. It was written all over his face, he didn’t like that. 

“Cheers.” Ron exclaims with a big grin.

You turn on your heels and make for the exit. The way you keep up antics to hide your affair in front of others was Oscar worthy at this point. Although it kept things on the hush-hush, it was exhausting. But my oh my, did Dean hate it. He was a poor example for a fuck buddy. He talked a good game but at the heart of it all, he was sensitive, needed reassurance from time to time and to be claimed out loud. If you knew what it would take for him to stop ignoring you, you would’ve acted on that weeks ago. At least that was the one thing you had over him, you knew Dean Thomas’s secret longing to be wanted and loved. 

As selfish as it was, now that you knew his little secret, you now have the upper hand over this situationship. He’s not the only king of hearts anymore; you’re right besides him, sitting pretty on the throne for the queen.

As you leave, you raise your skirt higher, leaving a little cheek out and sway your hips as you exit, giving Dean a cheeky tease. Just enough to make him stiff in his shorts and sexually frustrated. You glance back and see Dean adjusting and tucking away his wood. Laughter erupts from you as you walk out the tent, it was actually hilarious how easy you make him fold.

You were sure you’re gonna catch some heat for it later.

But now after this morning, you realized you like how vexed he gets from your stunts of the need for attention.

Well, solely because it makes him fuck you harder.

#Alfred Enoch fanfiction #Alfie Enoch fanfiction #Dean Thomas fanfiction #Dean Thomas smut #Alfred Enoch smut #Hogwarts fanfiction #black reader smut #hogwarts x black reader #black fem reader #Dean thomas x reader #alfred enoch x reader #alfie enoch x reader #dean thomas imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #black reader fanfiction

[ani-dirty-imagines]

Hi there!, if it hasn’t been requested already but Uzui nsfw alphabet?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes gn!reader and explicit sexual content

a/n: thank you for requesting!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

His voice is raspier during the afterglow and it can actually makes you want to go again 👀

He loves to see your face so, he’ll tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss the side of your face. He’ll call you beautiful and praise you for being so good. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he loves his arms since they are strong enough to keep you up once you become limp from being fucked too hard. 

For you, he really likes your ass. He slaps it often but no matter how much he does it it still gets you all flustered. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

A healthy man. Cums a fucking lot and loves it when you smear the cum all over his dick. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Doesn’t really have any. He’s sure to be comfortable with his sexual desires with you and he hopes that you can also be honest about yours sooner or later. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

A whole fucking lot. He traps Rengoku, Sanemi or Giyuu in his discussions of how experienced he is. This is all for gags though because when you’re together he’s the most patient man. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Having you on his lap so he can control how much you can move your hips. 

He’s also a fan of missionary or having you in a mating press because he loves seeing your face. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Not really. He does nibble on your ear or nuzzles your face to get you to giggle, especially when he sees that you’re nervous. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Pretty clean trail but gets a little bushy when he gets busy. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

You better believe you’ll ache when you’re done. However, he is actually romantic and always makes sure to press a kiss on your face or neck. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t do it often because he has you. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Dressing you up. He likes buying lingerie for you and then have you make a show for him before getting on his lap and I think you know what happens next <333 

If you’re willing, he’d like to record your sessions. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Doesn’t mind any place as long as you’re okay with it. If you’re really needy he’d fuck you on a park bench at night. The thought of making you feel good and having others see the show appeals to him. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He actually wants to see what you’re into. He’s motivated to do it because he’s excited to know what you’d ask of him next. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t want you to bleed or anything. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It goes either way. He loves giving you oral and fuck is he good at it. 

He also likes to receive and loves to see how enthusiastic you are about it. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast but still so fucking sensual. The way he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into the back of your neck tells you how much he wants you. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Only when you’re really really needy. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Oh, he’s willing to take risks. Public sex isn’t something he’d shy away from. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Look at this guy, you know he can fuck the living hell out of you. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s got toys you never thought you’d see.

His favourites are nipple clamps and vibrators because they’re compact and he can use them on you even if you’re outside. 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He loves making you ride his thigh and he stops bouncing his leg when you start begging. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

The way he whispers his teasing remarks of how needy you are is a great contrast to how loud he groans when he’s getting close. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Doesn’t actually mind you topping. He wants to know what you’ll do to get him begging the same way you do when he’s fucking you. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Around 7-8 inches when erect and really thick. Thiccc

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s kind of like Kyojuro where he yearns for you more than he yearns to have sex with you. He’ll rarely deny though. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep about an hour or two after you’re done. This is only when he’s next to you though because your presence is comforting to him. 

#demon slayer #demon slayer smut #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer headcanons #kny smut #kny imagines #kny headcanons #kny hashira #uzui tengen #uzui tengen x reader #uzui smut #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #anime #anime smut #anime imagines #mio #smut alphabet #demon slayer smut alphabet #uzui smut alphabet #hashira x reader

[ben-talks-art]

Why I love Kumoko!

"My aim was to bust right through the wall and escape outside!

I call this strategy Operation: Get Out of the Barrier’s Evil Range (Operation: GOOBER for short)!"

There was a period of time a few years ago where I was just obsessed with "I'm a Spider, so what?"

Back then the only thing I was familiar with was the manga, which I already liked a lot, but when the anime got announced it sparked a desire to look up the rest of the media associated with the series.

I just adored the manga, the anime, the webnovel, and the official novel. I would make posts on reddit analyzing the main character, analyzing her rival, analyzing my top 10 favorite episodes of the show, I tried making my own novel inspired by some of the themes and ideas of the story, made a small pixel art 2D fangame, and of course, drew tons of FanArt.

Something about this silly schizophrenic spider girl just really brought me a lot of joy and really inspired me to get very productive.

I don't think Kumoko is the deepest or most complex of characters, but she is one of those that just carry a lot of different elements that really appeal to me.

For starters, I actually really liked the idea of a spider protagonist. I didn't think I would but they get really creative with giving her interesting powers related to her appearance like homing web attacks, bombs of poison, scythe hands, the ability to create surfaces to stick to anywhere, and many more.

Not only that, I love that she actually fights like a spider, constantly laying down traps before her fights and doing preparations to make sure she has all the advantages against her opponents. Her victories never feel like Deus Ex Machinas, you see how she plans things beforehand and teaches the value of strategy and observation.

Then, there is also the fact that her situation is very interesting. Most Isekai stories have the main lead be reborn as some invincible god that never faces any struggle throughout the entire story. But Kumoko? She starts off as the weakest monster at the deepest level of a labyrinth and spends months alone in there just trying to get out alive.

She's another character who has a great relationship with misery and tragedy because no matter how strong she gets, her challenges never get any easier. Even in later parts of the novel she still has situations where she just barely gets out alive of a fight because she just keeps attracting stronger and stronger enemies. Every time she wins a battle it always feels earned due to her wits.

And while on the topic of tragedy, the way she handles her struggles is very reminiscent of Spider-Man and Percy Jackson, always trying to crack jokes and breaking the fourth wall despite being constantly on the verge of dying or getting mutilated.

And some of her jokes are so freaking funny. They play around with the idea that the longer she stays in the labyrinth, the crazier she gets. After all, she has access to basically no form of light, no contact with other intelligent beings, and is constantly getting nearly killed or injured. To top it all off, she gets a power that allows her to make copies of her mind, so she's constantly talking to herself, and driving herself even crazier, causing her to stop caring about consequences and just doing anything that feels convenient to her situation, like say, blowing up a gate that was keeping all the monsters locked just so she could pass and calling it an "Oopsie!"

I think Kumoko might actually be one of the funniest insane characters I've seen. She reminds me a lot of Deadpool. Constantly mixing humor, tragedy, and coolness.

She has great designs, very unique powers, very interesting strategies, and overall, she is just incredibly charming. I love seeing her talking, cracking jokes, interacting with other characters, and sometimes just ignoring them because she is an antisocial mess.

There isn't really much about her that I don't like. To me she's just one of those perfect characters. Tons of things to like, very little to hate.

Love Kumoko!

Favorite character list>>

#kumoko #kumo desu ga nani ka #so i'm a spider so what

[kitelineonline]

Ride The Wind: Soaring Into Adventure With Wing Surfing

Think of the wind and the waves as a symphony, a dance between you and the elements, an exhilarating thrill as you soar above the ocean. I want to introduce you to wing surfing, the most popular water activity among thrill-seekers. Get ready to dive deeply into its thrilling world!

Let Your Independent Spirit Free

If you're the type who's constantly looking for something new and exciting to do, wing surfing is your chance to do just that. This exciting activity fuses the precision of wave riding with the adrenaline rush of wind sports. 

You can surf the wind like a real free spirit with a little wing and a surfboard. Whether you're a seasoned surfer searching for a new challenge or a beginner ready to jump into the action, the sport will take you on an adventure you'll always remember.

Envision yourself standing on a surfboard with a bright wing flapping in the breeze as you prepare to take off. The feeling of being swept by the wind across the lake is unparalleled. It's a dance of equilibrium and mastery, a unison of you, the wing, and the elements. 

One of the best things about wing surfing is how adaptable it is. It's a way to get out into the open air and discover new places. You'll feel an unrivaled sensation of freedom as you glide across the water's surface, propelled entirely by the force of the wind.

Learning Ease with Natural Recreation 

Are you afraid it'll be too hard to master wing surfing? Don't worry! The sport's low entry barrier is one of its many appealing features. Whether you're an old hand at water sports or have never touched a paddle, you'll pick it up quickly. 

The lightweight wing and steady surfboard required for the sport make it accessible to people of varying ability levels. You'll be soaring like a pro in no time with little instruction and practice. When you go wing surfing, the outdoors is your playground. 

Envision yourself gliding over a calm lake as the sun rises, catching waves as the sun sets over the ocean, or simply riding the wind on a quiet day. More than just a recreational activity, it offers a powerful connection to nature. 

It provides boundless opportunities for discovery, whether you're drawn to placid seas or want the excitement of challenging circumstances. Every fearless traveler may find an ideal location, from peaceful lakes and rivers to long seashore stretches with crashing waves. 

Surfing through wings inspires exploration and calls you to the world's most beautiful seas. When you go surfing, you're not simply riding solo; you're joining a tight-knit group of people who share your enthusiasm for the sport. 

The community is known for its strong friendship and willingness to help one another in any way possible. You'll find a feeling of community with other riders, whether it's through face-to-face interactions on the beach or virtual interactions through the internet.

Conclusion

Wing surfing is an exciting response to the world's constant desire to challenge ourselves and seek new experiences. It has won adventurers' hearts worldwide because it combines wind-powered exhilaration, nature's beauty, and a devoted group's fellowship. 

If you're ready to grab your wing, climb on a surfboard, and let the wind transport you to new heights of adventure, then now is the moment to do it. Are you prepared to heed the call of the waves and the wind? Kiteline is your go-to stop to buy your essentials. 

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3P5MVUh

#Wing Surfing

[maisiebraeminrdyr1601]

Week 6

After finishing your research, you should, ideally, have a clear knowledge of the problem or problems you're attempting to solve.

Although you should have entered your research with an open mind, you might have made some assumptions.

Did the evidence support your presumptions? Or did you come across another intriguing discovery?

By nOW, you ought to have some candidate HMW questions.

Example:

• Clubware conducted research for a brand-new app we are creating for gym patrons.

Ten user tests and interviews were conducted.

The user testing provided some particular solutions to navigation and interaction problems, but the interviews also provided crucial information that will alter future designs.

Assumption: Gym members do a combination of weights and group fitness.

Incorrect: While about a third do a combination the majority of participants we talked to do weights only. * need to back this up by quantitative research to see if our sample was representative.

I Implication: The content in our app is very much

geared to group fitness, booking classes, using the timetable, for our app to appeal to all gym users we need different content and potentially customisable.

As a result, HMW

User, task, and goal components

HMW provides gym patrons with convenient access to pertinent information to support their fitness goals?

Specify your challenge.

Use these enquiries to help you narrow down your difficulty.

1. Has your problem statement a solution built in?

Do you have much room for creative thought given what you just said?

2. Is your query illuminating and motivating?

You ought to be eager to start!

3. Have you honed in on a specific audience?

Are you able to identify your target audience's needs and concerns? There are too many problems to solve at once.

4. Have you decided which stage of the journey you will create for?

When might the answer to your problem exist?

Your timeline getting shorter can assist you find contextual needs.

5. In order to make your query enticing and juicy, did you draw on any insights or inspiration?

Your team can be more creative by adding some texture about what is motivating your audience's requirements.

explaining design choices

In the UX/UI process, research, review, ideation, and materialisation are all crucial steps.

The ability to visualise and communicate both the process and the results is crucial.

Rich insights and in-depth research will have little influence if they remain confined to your head or laptop.

Working hard is crucial, but so is having the capacity to explain complicated information, share your method with others, and inspire people with your discoveries.

Rationale 

...the motives or purposes behind a specific set of beliefs or behaviours:

Every design choice should have a strong justification supported by your study.

This will lessen the likelihood of our work containing assumptions or personal bias.

Additionally, it will guarantee that you can reassure stakeholders that you can support your choices with evidence.

The significance of story 

Humans have an innate desire to react to stories.

Our ability to retain information in the short term is restricted. We recall a lot more information when it is presented to us in the form of a story.

Stories aid in our comprehension of:

Humans naturally strive to organise and make sense of their surroundings. It is much simpler for us to understand the meaning when facts, numbers, and data are presented in a narrative setting.

Narrative strategies

Make it pertinent by keeping your audience in mind as you write your story. What matters to them? Which dialect do they speak?

Use suspense, drama, humour, and sympathetic characters to captivate your audience by taking inspiration from movies, television, and books. Why should we care about what's at stake? Don't, however, go too far. Make sure the truth is what you're accentuating rather than letting your story twist it.

Have a strong opening and conclusion; this will help to ensure that your audience pays attention and remembers.

[boozye]

Sorry, I tried to keep this concise and ended up with a dissertation draft. I just have so many thoughts on what Asmo’s character is and what it could be.

- Lust as a sin isn’t inherently carnal. It’s more along the veins of greed. While greed tends to be a selfish desire (that can often harm others in the process), lust is an intense desire. Lust works as a deep craving for something, it isn’t limited to s**, it can be power, fame, and even knowledge. It’s desire to an unhealthy degree, the harm often falling on oneself in the pursuit of that craving.

Do I think Asmo’s definition of beauty is just a strong mix of what is seen as undeniably desirable across the Devildom, and the latest trends to stay relevant/well liked among the largest group of people possible?

…

Yesn’t.

-From what I’ve seen, Asmo’s lust, lies in attention. He does everything in his power to be desirable. I meant what I said by him wanting to attract the “largest group possible”. Aesthetic wise is easy enough, find the patterns in beauty and stick to them; Asmo’s even admitted to getting cosmetic surgery before to make himself more appealing. (It was a nose job, I’ll come back to add the card/lesson when I find it again.) But he’s molded his personality as well. Happy, bubbly, social, charismatic- and that’s without his eye hypnosis. People are drawn to those personality traits, wanting to surround themselves with joy and pretty things. On the note of his innuendos and heavily suggestive speech- he wasn’t like that when we first met him. At best he was flirty with Mc when they showed interest in his sin, but other than that he was just like a really preppy friend until Mc started spending more time with him/post pact. If he was grossly pushy/flirty to everyone he met all the time, he wouldn’t have as big of a following because that behavior from strangers, no matter how gorgeous they are, is creepy.

Being a lord earns him high favor from other elites, being an active presence on social media on top of the latest trends expands his reach past the social circles of RAD, elites, and even his party circles- allowing for people that may otherwise never interact with him to feel special and included- keeping the likes, follows, and shares coming in abundance, no matter what Asmo does.

1/2

FUCKIN' THANK YOU, this is exactly what I needed! A nice explanation of a different point of view. Most, if not all, of this checks out for me. I like this perspective and it definitely helps me see him in a better light.

I guess I still feel like at any moment the game is gonna pull an "actually MC is your typical pale skinned, long straight haired, dainty girl in a skirt" and it never feels closer to that as when someone mentions MC's appearance, which Asmo does a lot of. He skirts so closely to actually mentioning a specific appearance, my guard just stays up, going "oh boy, here it comes". Yet, it hasn't happened so far, at least that I've seen. He mentions a couple things during a sleepover at the castle at some point but, I distinctly remember them being things like, the shape of MC's nails, or the size of their ears. So yeah, I should work on lowering my guard about that so I can enjoy him more, because I definitely see a lot to love about him and it pains me that I struggle with it. He's such a loveable guy!

[capricores]

✨ the signs and work (careers, needs in workplace, work-mindset, etc)

♡ check your sun, mars, ascendant, midheaven and sixth house signs. keep in mind your entire chart, especially planets in the sixth/tenth house can hugely change the expression of this. sagittarius mars + midheavens tend to hate routine, but if you have a taurus sun/moon, you’re likely to prefer routine and be more comfortable with it. the aspects to these planets and your midheaven/ascendant can entirely change things too. this is a general post. 

i also recommend checking the position of your midheaven ruler and the sign/house it is in (ruler of the midheaven is simply the planet that rules the signs of your midheaven: sun=leo, moon=cancer, mercury=gemini/virgo, venus=libra/taurus, mars=aries/scorpio, jupiter=sagittarius/pisces, saturn=capricorn/aquarius, neptune=pisces, uranus=aquarius, pluto=scorpio). so if you have a gemini midheaven, look to what sign your mercury is in and read for that as well.

reasons for choosing these placements: sixth house represents routine, habits and service; it will more-so highlight how you feel about and approach day-to-day work and serving others. midheaven is your ideal career and ambitions in the workplace; it’s also your image while at work. ascendant + sun both blend together to create one’s general temperament and personality; as well as outlook on life. these two placements highlight hobbies, desires, wants; and therefore influence career needs and work habits. mars is your drive, ambition, energy, etc; therefore showing up in the workplace strongly.

bite-sized version (see the read more for full sign explanations)

aries: careers that allow independence and decision-making. careers in the outdoors. high-energy, physical careers; careers that allow them to use their hands. entrepreneurship is ideal as they like to have complete control over their projects and schedules. jobs with competitive factors will be most motivating to them. they do really well in high-stress careers that require fast-action. sales, any sort of business ventures, management, directing, athletics, construction, welding, etc.

taurus: careers that offer consistency, stability and security. careers that allow for independence. entrepreneurship; taureans aren’t good at taking orders. anything involving the environment, animals, or children. coffee shops, bakeries, childcare, environmental activism, tree nursery staff, animal rescue, etc. taurus placements hold high levels of creativity and are very good at curating styles that appeal to wide varieties: therefore design (fashion, interior - even food/graphic design) based careers are ideal.

gemini: intellectual stimulation, flexibility and frequent change are absolute requirements in gemini careers. without frequent mental stimulation, gemini placements get anxious and want to quit. it’s hard for them to stick to jobs that don’t offer lots of change, variety and difficulties. engineering, computer programming, math-based careers, etc. geminis are excellent communicators are thrive in careers involving writing, public speaking, sales, etc. the environment and people gemini works with are as important as the job itself for them. gemini needs to do multiple things at once; careers involving multi-tasking are essential. routine, predictable careers are the enemy.

cancer: cancers need stability and control in their career. they’re very nostalgic and can often be seen carrying on family businesses or pursuing careers influenced by their families. research & history based careers are great for cancers (historian, librarian, scientific research, detective, etc). cancers do well connecting with others; careers that allow genuine interaction are great (psychologist, social worker, human resources, etc). careers that allow them control. the environment of a cancer’s work space is extremely important: they usually do best working at home. careers relating to food. careers connecting to childcare.

leo: careers need to allow them recognition and praise; attention via career is important (social media, tv personalities, etc). careers that allow a creative outlet with high-energy; but still offer stability and consistency. competitive environments are best for leo. working with children, athletic coaching, fashion, sales, marketing, and so forth are all great paths. management positions or running their own business is ideal for leos who don’t take well to criticism or direction. leos love being social and enjoy careers that give them a social outlet. analytical careers pair surprisingly well with leo; i’ve noticed they’re often drawn to and successful with paths relating to computer science & engineering.

virgo: similar to gemini, careers that are fast-paced and challenging are essential. mental stimulation is an absolute must, and the most important factor for a virgo. careers revolving around healing, health and nutrition fit well with virgo. working with animals and the environment. analytical, logic-forward careers that requirement complex solutions and quick thinking. careers involving communication, especially written, are ideal. virgos are excellent with small details and do well with careers that focus on these. writing, computer programming, chemistry, engineering, teaching, vet tech, dietician, doctor, surgeon, etc.

libra: careers heavily connected to aesthetics: libras require beauty in every aspect of life, especially career (fashion, interior & graphic design; any art-related field; music, etc). careers loaded with social interactions, libras get drained and bored in a career that’s isolating and lonely. ilbras are charming and do well in positions like sales that utilize this charm for personal gain. careers that require a strong sense of justice and morals (law, judge, detective, managerial positions, etc).

scorpio: competitive, target based careers that give them power. behind-the-scenes careers that give them recognition but still allows their privacy. creative -heavy careers such as writing, art, fashion. careers connecting to the occult (ie: astrology/divination). careers that allow them to utilize their unmatchable investigation skills (detective, lawyer, scientist, etc). careers that give them flexibility, yet stability; the only change they want to experience at work is self-controlled. scorpios prefer to work alone than in groups; careers of solitude or ones that allow them to control others are best.

sagittarius: careers that allow them to channel their natural educator & humanitarian role (teacher, philosopher, lawyer, philanthropist, etc). careers that allow them to travel as part of their job (pilot, travel guide, trip planner, translator, etc). careers with huge amount of flexibility, frequent change; careers that give them independence and allow for constant growth, learning and expansion. they never want to be fully “comfortable”. athletic, physical careers; careers in the outdoors (ie: athletic coach, sports teams, etc). 

capricorn: careers that allow for complete autonomy and control. entrepreneurship was made for capricorns. careers that promise stability, security, and a laid-out climb to the top. careers heavily based in logic & analyzing; finance-based careers are also ideal. financial analysis, architecture, CFO positions, etc. working with animals and being connected to the earth are beneficial. management positions are ideal, although capricorns tend to do everything themselves regardless of who’s working for them. careers that involve a lot of careful planning and thinking ahead; routine.

aquarius: careers involving music and/or art (nearly every aqua placement i meet is talented in + passionate about some artistic outlet, channelling these interests into careers is beneficial). careers involving technology, science, and lots of analyzing/logic. computer science, engineering, mathematician, data analyst, etc. careers that give them longer periods of isolation with healthy amounts of socialization in between; they require a good balance. careers that give them independence, yet structure; careers that change on their own terms only. 

pisces: careers with complete flexibility: routines, heavy structure and similar are the enemy. careers that allow a channel for healing and/or spirituality (divination, astrology, nutrition, psychology, etc). careers relating to philosophy, humanitarianism, teaching; much like sagittarius - anything that allows frequent growth and expansion. careers heavy with travel and new experiences. careers that allow a creative outlet are best for pisces (design, photography, filmography, music), they also do well in social based careers such as being influencers or tv stars. avoid careers with rough environments as they’re the sign most likely to absorb negative energies.

♡ mutable signs (pisces, sagittarius, gemini, virgo):

these signs have busy minds. they always need to be moving, and require constant mental stimulation. work without mental stimulation will quite literally drive them up the wall. if their work traps them into non-challenging (gemini/virgo) or routine (pisces/sagittarius) environments, they’ll not only want to quit, but likely be negatively impacted in terms of energy and mental health. if you have strong mutable placements, it’s important for you to find a flexible and stimulating career; a career with a lot of socializing is often preferable as well. they require lots of encouragement and praise in their work to stay committed and on-track.

the ideal careers for mutable signs are ones that allow for stimulation and change (virgo is more comfortable with routine, gemini is *okay* with routine; but both requirement frequent challenges in the workplace to stay satisfied, they need to be “solving” things). mutable signs don’t mind working behind the scenes, or under the direction of someone else, so long as they’re in an exciting environment that allows them to fully utilize their wit, creativity and quick problem solving skills. 

it’s very important for mutable signs to become friends with those in their workplace (especially pisces and gemini placement individuals). because of their constant need for mental (and also social) stimulation, it’s vital for them to be able to form friendships (not necessarily deep/close friendships, but at least surface level) in the workplace and have a frequent social outlet while working. mutable signs are also extremely susceptible to their environment and those around them (as are the water signs), so a toxic workplace will have a significantly harsher impact on their well-being than other signs would experience. their mental and physical health can both be immensely affected when they’re in toxic environments around toxic people (of course this is true for anyone, but mutables are drained by this on a whole other level). mutable signs can easily love a job they would normally hate, if the environment is positive and fun for them; and vice versa.

✧ sagittarius and pisces: no matter how much these two signs love their job, they will still hate their job. pisces and sagittarians tend to hate work. this isn’t because they’re lazy, or incapable of putting in hard work; because they’re more than capable, and do it frequently. but to them, work, especially routine work (nine to fives, forty hours a week, etc), limit them. pisces and sagittarius share jupiter as their ruler; jupiter is all about expansion, growth and freedom. these signs hate being boxed in and tied down. they require living lives that allow for frequent growth. namely, pisces and sagittarius love to always be learning and bettering themselves, especially spiritually and philosophically. if they’re stuck in a career that limits their expansion; or lacks “abundance” when it comes to choices and growth, they’ll be extremely unsatisfied.

pisces and sagittarians are free spirits, and these placements (especially in the personal planets and as ascendant) love physical change; aka traveling. a job that allows them to travel, especially to other countries/long distances, will be ideal and fulfilling for them. creative outlets, educational paths, or any career relating to spirituality, philosophy or similar will be best for them. pisces do really well in careers related to healing and helping; sagittarians do really well in careers related to teaching. sagittarians, being fire signs, also require careers that keep them relatively physically active.

some suggested careers (pisces, sagittarius): travel-related (flight attendant, trip planner, etc), translation/interpretation, photography, arts, astrology, divination, food (chef, front of house, etc), teaching, medicine (namely naturopaths, nutrition, etc), motivational / public speaking, philanthropy 

✧ geminis and virgos: being mercury-ruled, these two signs need intellectual stimulation more than anyone else. they do not do well in monotonous or “easy/simple” jobs. although these two signs might not be as bothered by routine as their fellow mutable signs, they instead require a constantly challenging and stimulating environment. fast-paced, high-stress careers where they’re able to problem-solve and think on their feet are best for these two signs. although they have to be careful of overly stressful jobs and burning themselves out, due to their tendencies of overthinking, nervousness and how easily stressed they can get. it’s best for them to work in challenging environments, with kind and encouraging management, as to avoid any possible burnout or anxiety in the workplace.

again, thanks to their mercury influence, these signs have a way with words. anyone with strong gemini or virgo placements is bound to be great when it comes to writing and/or speaking. being an author is something those with either of these placements would really excel at. also, working in sales (mainly with gemini, virgo shyness and hermit habits may put them off of this career lol) is something gemini & virgo THRIVE in. they’re very good at speaking to others and swaying their opinions, so closing deals with people is a very easy and satisfying thing for them to do.

some suggested careers (gemini, virgo): computer science/technology fields, detective work, writing, research-based fields, nutrition/dietetics (virgo), sales (gemini), something with a lot of public speaking (but this likely freaks them out and makes them nervous- they are amazing at it though), event planning

some mutable careers (all/mixed): teaching, international relations, politics (sagittarius and gemini), music (pisces especially), comedy (gemini and sagittarius), marketing & sales, law, medical fields (virgo and pisces), travel & tourism, librarians/working in bookstores

♡ cardinal signs (aries, cancer, libra, capricorn):

these signs thrive most placed in roles of leadership and entrepreneurship. directing others and having control over their own actions and projects is most satisfying for these individuals. cancers and libras don’t mind working under the control of others, capricorn and aries do not do well in situations controlled or directed by others. however, capricorns and aries can handle working under others as long as they have a means for doing so (ie: they have some power over others at the same time, they’re awaiting a promotion, etc).

these signs are ambitious, initiators, and go-getters. they are the ones with the big ideas and the detailed plans of how things will go. they enjoy motivating others and seeing others succeed, so they make for wonderful managers. managerial positions are great for these signs, since they can struggle a bit with following through/staying on task, having a role where they create the ideas/tasks and have someone else finish it is more ideal.

✧ aries and capricorn: these signs, far more than other cardinals, really do better working alone or in positions of power. entrepreneurship is more ideal for these two than probably any other sign. additionally, both aries and capricorn are very connected to the physical realm. aries does really well in physically-active careers (manual labor, athletics, etc), and they also really love the outdoors. capricorn, being so connected to the earth, also loves any sort of outdoors/earth-connected career. jobs that allow them to be outside in nature, or directly working with nature, will do them both great.

these two signs are very good at managing and directing, however their styles can be a little harsh. they also tend to have the attitude where they’d rather do everything themselves so that it’s done “right”. because of this, it’s best for them to work independently at their own business, or to have someone working as a buffer of communication between them and employees when it comes to instructing and critiquing. they do, however, do very well as trainers, since they’re very to-the-point and enjoy allowing others to shadow them/vice versa. being trainers allows them to let out their overly picky/specific side for the better.

these two especially thrive in any career that allows them to showcase their straight-forward and analytical natures. fields such as law, are so amazing for both of these signs. aries loves the challenge of a field like law, and probably enjoys the ability to “argue” for work. capricorn’s interest will be held by the analytical, research based aspects of law, as well as the ability to “argue” for work. both signs enjoy being right, competitiveness, and independence, so fields similar to law are perfect. 

both signs can also handle high-stress and high-pressure environments with ease, quite possibly more than any other signs. they also need frequent challenge and competitiveness in careers, so any sort of job that hits these requirements would be best. if they don’t feel as if they’re climbing a ladder, or achieving a visible, measurable level of success (ie: hitting/exceeding targets), they won’t feel fulfilled.

some suggested careers (aries, capricorn): entrepreneurship, instructing/coaching (athletics, etc), athletics (aries), project managers/management in general, conservationists, lawyers, food service, finance/accounting, any analytical/logic-based careers (capricorn), architecture, computer programming, sales (aries; they have the energy + charisma for this), marketing, real estate (aries), physical therapy, chiropractor, personal trainer (aries)

✧ cancer and libra: one important thing to mention for these two signs is they require a comfortable, positive work sign; almost to the extent that mutable signs do. their work environments have to be comfort zones, much like their homes, or they’ll struggle a lot in their career despite how much they enjoy the job itself. the people they work with and space they work in are extremely important to them. if they work from home, it’s vital they have a comfortable, well-decorated home office in order to be fully productive and in their “zones”.

these two signs have a very unique way of managing. they’re very good at getting people to do things, without realizing they’ve been influenced to do something. both of these signs can get along with nearly anyone, and have very warm, nurturing natures; which makes them highly successful in roles ranging from management to sales and anything of the likes. their social skills are impressive, as are their problem-solving skills, which makes them well-suited for fields like human resources, law (mainly libra), psychology, social work, etc. both do well in customer service and marketing because of their people skills.

the difference between these two lies in their public preferences. libra is a very public sign, and also the sign of justice. journalist, social media influencer/tv personality, publicist, judge/lawyer, and fashion design are some potential careers that align well with libra’s needs for recognition and admiration. on the other hand, cancer much prefers a more private life, although still enjoys (genuine) interaction with others. due to their nurturing personalities and creativity, cancers thrive in careers relating to medicine, food, design (especially interior, architecture, etc - anything related to the home as cancer is the sign connected with the *home*), and so forth.

these two signs are also highly creative and thrive in roles that allow for this expression. libra specifically thrives in fields like fashion or graphic design, cancer thrives in fields like interior design or baking/cooking. 

some suggested careers (cancer, libra): law (libra), fashion (libra), interior design, graphic design (libra), childcare (cancer), psychology, social work, medicine (cancer), chef/baker/similar (cancer), real estate, sales & marketing (libra), journalist (libra), publicist (libra), architect (cancer), customer service, social media (influencer, marketing, etc), acting, game design/development (cancers especially - they seem to be so good with video games)

some cardinal careers (all/mixed): entrepreneurship, design, development & research, finance/accounting, architecture, lawyers, judges, detectives (especially libra & cancer), real estate, sales & marketing, management, human resources (cancer/libra)

♡ fixed signs (taurus, leo, scorpio, aquarius):

these signs do best in positions of total autonomy. working under the discretion of others is not ideal for these individuals. with creative minds and a need for independence and power; these individuals also tend to do best in fields relating to art, or creation of some sort. aquarius and taurus can handle working under others without much power, but leo and scorpio do not do well when given directions (they can handle it, but they don’t like it). it’s against fixed sign nature to follow orders. however, fixed signs do generally enjoy routine, so they won’t mind working under someone if it provides them consistency and stability. they might even skip on desired promotions, new/better job opportunities and more due to their fears/dislike of change (especially taurus).

fixed signs have this unmatchable resilience when it comes to work. these are the people that will easily put in 70+ hours a week with minimal complaints. they’re excellent at following through with things and sticking to their jobs/tasks, even when they hate them. fixed signs are also the only modality that’s consistent and excellent with following through. these signs have a bit of trouble getting started, though, and often need a push and help to get things going. 

leo and taurus need stability and consistency in their career, whatever it may end up being. these two do not do well with change; and don’t usually like jobs that require them to frequently adapt or start new routines. aquarius and scorpio on the other hand, thrive within change; and are more than used to adapting to sudden, significant changes. these two, however, still prefer a more stable routine; as they tend to fear/dislike change that is not self-inflicted. the biggest things for fixed signs are stable, consistent careers. they also need careers that allow them power and individualism. aquarius and leo specifically need careers that allow them to “show off” or get recognition, preferably from a larger audience.

scorpios & leos thrive with incentives and praise, so careers that offer bonus pays, targets, and promotions with set goals will motivate them a lot more in work. any sort of competitive work will get those two signs going. aquarians however are more indifferent to these things, they tend to be more detached with the material benefits of work. taureans usually dislike these types of careers, they want work with consistency: consistent pay, consistent hours, etc.

✧ leo and aquarius: these signs require attention and recognition for their work more than anyone. they’ll do behind the scenes work if they need to, but generally they enjoy being the center of other’s attentions (aquarius won’t admit this though). these two signs have very unique ideas, and are bustling with creativity. more than anything, they need a career that allows creative expression and individuality. they don’t do well being boxed in and restricted in their endeavors. most of all, these two need careers that are challenging, consistent yet flexible, and allow both social and creative outlets. 

aquarius is the sign relating to technology, so of course they will naturally thrive in technology-related careers. aquarians have busy minds and the patience to work out complex problems; so a career in computer programming, or something similar, would do them well. graphic design and architecture are two other careers that come to mind. engineering (but something more like music engineering, that allows them that creative outlet) is another great choice. aquarians are also humanitarians at heart, so charity-related careers, or careers of similar nature (ie: social worker) would be great for them. careers with a lot of either problem-solving/complex issues, humanitarian causes, or music/art are best for aquarians.

leos are natural born entertainers and story-tellers. they also can fit well into many social environments, and are so naturally charming it’s easy for them to get on anyone’s good side. because of this, any social-heavy career is great for them (motivational speaking, writing, acting, sales, marketing, etc). leos also have big hearts and tend to love children and/or animals, so i always recommend childcare or animal care to these types of leos. at the end of the day, despite leo’s need to be independent/not heavily controlled at work, they do love that social interaction that can come with working. leos are also bursting with creativity, and tend to have affinities with art, so any art-field is a great career selection for them. as a fire sign, leos also thrive in physically-active careers (athletics, manual labor, etc) that keep them up and moving.

some suggested careers (leo, aquarius): music (especially aqua), fashion-related fields; especially design, ANY sort of artistic field (design, painting, acting, etc), childcare (leo), marketing, sales, engineering, charitable organizations (aquarius), computer programming/science (aquarius), writing (leo), social media (marketing, management, influencer)

✧ scorpio and taurus: these signs don’t mind being behind the scenes, so long as they still have significant power in their work environment and control over themselves. overall, they’d typically rather work for themselves than someone else, they truly hate answering to others and generally don’t like being disturbed/overly social at work (it drains them, and they usually find it annoying/disrupts their work flow). i suggest more independent-work type of careers for these signs, or careers that allow them to instruct others on what to do, not the other way around.

both signs are very intense and investigative, and once they start something they have a laser-like focus that will help them see through a project to the end. scorpios specifically need careers that allow THEM flexibility and the ability to enact change when they see fit. taureans, however, need careers with minimal change, including self-inflicted. taurus requires stability and consistency more than any other sign in the zodiac, especially at work. 

taureans have a very nurturing energy, including at work, and they have a natural connection to the earth/environment. because of this, i always see taureans fitting so well into careers involving the environment (think anything from environmental law to conservationist to florist, etc). personally, both taurus and scorpio i can see running adorable little flower shops, crystal shops or cafes and it would be too perfect for them. these two signs are usually bookworms too so i feel like working in a bookstore would be so perfect for them both. scorpios really do need that power and slight competition in work. they need to be challenged more than any of the other fixed signs, or they will get extremely bored. i often find scorpios thrive most in unfamiliar environments, so sudden switches in work may be a comforting thing for them.

some suggested careers (scorpio, taurus): investigator/detective (scorpio), research-based fields (scorpio), interior design, fashion, food-related field (taurus), childcare (taurus), architecture, divination + astrology (scorpio), office jobs (taurus - but more a WFH environment), work from home jobs in general (they don’t like leaving the house), working with animals/rescuing, environmental law (taurus), law (scorpio), environmental activism (taurus), conservationist (taurus), librarian/bookstore jobs

some ideal fixed careers (all/mixed): tattoo artist (this career always comes to mind with scorpio/taurus especially), design, any sort of arts-related career, managerial roles, entrepreneurship, athletic instructor/similar (leo & taurus), farming (taurus & leo), florist/anything working with plants (taurus & scorpio), childcare (leo & taurus), competitive environments (leo & scorpio)

#astrology #midheaven #sun #mars #sixth house #ascendant #mine #long post #decided to try to finish all the half-done posts in my drafts before starting new ones lol #this is like half a year old i rly just. never finished #m:lp #career #anyway i quite like this post but its not perfect im sorry!! my brain is still a little ~ #the mutable one i 1000% love but i feel like i could've wrote the fixed and cardinal better but #i've worked on this post too long im done lmao #ALSO i feel like i know 8.5 careers im sorry i repeated so many #pay more attention to my paragraph rambles than the careers maybe 😭 #idk how i feel abt this post anymore i've been editing and rewriting it for the past 48 hrs and im sleep deprived and over it lmao #i wrote the i quite like this post tag when i only had the mutable one written i take that back partially <3

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Drifting

I had so much fun writing up the introduction to this request! You’ll probably see why in just a minute too...but, fun fact, the lovely Khaos, the newest addition to the blog, helped me out with this request when I found myself a little stuck!

Khaos added a helpful amount of amazing to the ending scene, so be sure to thank them for their amazing input! Oh, and make sure ya let us know what you think, okay?

I would also like to add that I know it’s been quiet here on the blog and I’m sorry for that but personally, I’ve had some...curveballs thrown at me health wise so you probably won’t see a lot from me. So, yeah.

Navigation 

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 Tamaki slowly peeked up above the ocean’s surface, keeping as quiet as possible to remain unnoticed while he allowed his eyes to land upon the object of his curiosities and affections; swallowing thickly when he realised that you had shown up at exactly sunset yet again, just like always.

 And, as always, you were alone. You had no companions that could prevent him from stealing you away to his secret cave and no one to help you if he decided to keep you to himself. An idea that appealed to him more with each of your visits to the beach.

 What interested Tamaki most, however, was the fact that with each of your visits, you made sure to only come by the secluded beach at sunset; when everyone else had gone home for the day. Tourists seemed to believe all the local’s stories of monsters beneath the water’s surface, waiting for the sun to go down so that their attacks could go unnoticed until it was too late.

 Of course, it was all nonsense. Tamaki was the only merperson to occupy this particular beach and he had been for quite a few years now; any and all monsters were long gone, migrated to places that weren’t so aware of the dangers that lurked beneath the depths.

 But it was also because of the late hour that you came to the beach, that Tamaki couldn’t approach you. He was all too aware of how a human woman might react to a random man approaching them in the water when the sun was beginning to set, shadows casting over the sky and melting the beautiful orange hues into an inky blackness.

 So, instead, Tamaki had to be satisfied with watching you from afar. Appreciating your beauty and daydreaming about all the different possibilities of meeting you; how he could befriend you and get closer, all while knowing it would be an impossibility.

 .

 ~  ~  ~

 .

 Tamaki stared at you with wide, saucer-like eyes, his mouth hanging open while you swam towards him slowly; your body remaining below the water’s surface, hiding the fact that you were without your bikini top.

 The very same bikini top that he held in his hands, a scrap of clothing that he had been inspecting out of confusion given that it was nearly midnight and he had thought that you had left the beach hours ago like you normally would.

 “…I think that’s mine” Your softly uttered words startled him, making him jolt and sink down further into the water while he released the bikini top; allowing it to float up to the surface, harmlessly bobbing up and down with the waves between the both of you.

 “Sorry, I uh, didn’t realise that someone else was here” He muttered out a pathetic excuse for an apology, trying his best not to let his tentacles move into your line of sight; desperate to at least seem normal, even if it wouldn’t be a lasting impression.

  Tamaki gulped nervously as he watched you reach for the floating bikini top, averting his gaze when you shuffled around to put the piece of clothing back on; the hurried movements of your fingers catching his attention with how the water splashed from the clumsy actions. The silence beginning to feel awkward while Tamaki tried his best not to look at you before you were ready, not wanting to come off as a pervert. Not to you.

 “It’s okay, I didn’t realise anyone else was here either. Not this late at night anyways and certainly not with the way everyone goes on about the monsters that are waiting for sunset so they can eat you” You rolled your eyes as the words left your lips, briefly giving Tamaki a once over before nodding your head to yourself; making Tamaki wonder if you were giving him the benefit of the doubt despite how strange it was for him to be here at this time, more so considering that he had technically been holding onto your bikini top.

 Then again, it would make sense for you to assume that he had thought it was a piece of seaweed; because honestly, that’s exactly what Tamaki had first thought when he picked it up.

 It wasn’t uncommon for people to investigate strange and/or suspicious objects that were found floating in the ocean, only to cast them away as quickly as they had been found. Tamaki had seen humans do so more times than he could count and luckily for him, he had had the brains to immediately release the skimpy piece of clothing; a guilty man would have tried to hide it, or simply kept held of it. Not Tamaki though, he had dropped it, allowed you to take it back and even averted his gaze so that you could have some form of privacy while fixing your top; even if it hadn’t been a great deal of privacy. There was only so much he could offer given the circumstances after all.

 However, even with these facts in mind, Tamaki could easily see that you were still on guard and he was happy to see such a thing. It reassured him that you didn’t trust random strangers in the water just because they had been polite enough to look away while you were topless.

 “Still, I am sorry…about your top, I mean. If I had of known what it was…” Tamaki trailed off as his face flushed with embarrassment, the tips of his pointed ears beginning to turn a similar shade of scarlet while he dipped further into the gentle waves of the night’s warm ocean waters; only stopping when his nose was beneath the salty waters.

 “It’s fine, okay? No harm, no foul” You hummed out the words in a soft voice, swimming around to face the embarrassed merman; all the while being completely unaware of what he truly was.

 “So…what brings you out so late?” Your question made Tamaki’s body go stiff, anxiety rushing through his system while his brain scrambled to think of something, anything to say in response to such an innocently asked question; anything but the truth, that is.

 There was no way known that Tamaki could tell you the truth behind his daily visits to this beach, especially when he could live happily and stealthily beneath the ocean waves for the rest of his life if it weren’t for your presence on this beach.

 Tamaki wanted to slap himself. Here he was, minding his own business in the ocean when the opportunity that he would have killed for, landed in his lap. The chance to speak with you, instead of just stare at you from afar and yet here he was, completely and utterly unable to get a single word out; instead, the fears of what could happen filled his mind.

 The terrifying what ifs of you hating him if he opened his mouth and said the wrong thing tormenting him into a nervous silence. Tamaki’s only relief from the situation, was that he would have the memories of having gotten close to you without making you scream and panic; though that also meant that no one would notice if he were to steal you away in that moment, if he took you to a place that no one would ever hope to find.

 But that was something that he couldn’t do and definitely something that Tamaki shouldn’t think about, unless he wanted to fuel the desires that he so often pushed aside. You would surely hate him if he were to do even half of the things that he had thought about.

 “Well, I guess I’ll see you around…” You mumbled out the farewell awkwardly, turning away from Tamaki in order to swim back towards the shore, no longer able to enjoy the solitude of an empty beach.

 “Uh, wait!” Tamaki called out to you again, finally able to find his voice once more as he reached out for you, his hand closing around your arm. Sealing his choice of interaction with you when you turned to face him. He should have let you leave.

 “Your…um, your strap, it’s loose…” He barely managed to mumble out the words without humiliating himself, averting his gaze when he found himself unable to meet your eyes; not needing the added kick of self-loathing on top of his nervousness.

 “You’ll lose your top again if you don’t fix it…”

 .

 “Oh. Well, do you mind?”

 .

 Tamaki gulped nervously as you turned your back to him once more, allowing him to reach for the loose strings belonging to your bikini top; needing to untie the knot that you had created in a rush minutes ago. If Tamaki were telling the truth, the knot probably would have held, but at the same time, he wouldn’t get another chance to let his skin brush against your own.

 Now, he was in heaven, making sure to tie a strong knot while at the same time, being sure that it wasn’t so tight that you wouldn’t be able to undo it yourself later on.

 “There…all done” He mumbled out the words under his breath when he was finished tying the knot, his fingers lingering on your skin for a brief moment, wanting more; though you pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

 Leaving Tamaki to breathe a sigh of release, all while silently cursing both himself and all of his pent-up desires. More so when you spun around to smile at him, the radiance you gave off nearly blinding his mopey self.

 “You’re beautiful…!” Tamaki blurted out the words before he could stop himself, quickly slapping his hands over his mouth with his eyes going wide in a mix of shock and horror. Mortified that he had said something like that without realising.

 Your eyes went wide, the smile fading from your lips and making Tamaki wish that he had legs so that he could kick himself. Unaware that you weren’t upset, but rather the opposite, never having been so earnestly complimented before; it brought an unfamiliar warmth to your cheeks and to your heart.

 “Um…thanks…” Tamaki watched you as you swam closer to him, torn between escaping to the ocean’s depths and closing the gap between the two of you; desperate for both, yet knowing better than to actually reach for the object of his desires.

 With his mind struggling to choose between the two options, Tamaki froze in place at the worst time; allowing you to move closer until he felt your warm toes brush over his wriggling tentacles, fear filling him when you jolted back in surprise. Your eyes scanning the dark waters for seaweed.

 “What’s…wrong?” Tamaki mentally slapped himself for asking while he watched you lower your head closer to the water’s surface, still searching for seaweed that he knew you wouldn’t find. He was just thankful that it was so late in the night, making it nearly impossible for you to see anything below the surface; you weren’t like him, you didn’t have eyes unaffected by the dark.

 .

 “Well, it’s just…I thought that something touched my leg…”

 .

 Tamaki moved his tentacles as far away from you as he could, praying that the darkness would be enough to push aside your curiosity, but apparently, it was too late; your hands closed around two of his now squirming tentacles as he tried to pull them free of your hold.

 “Y-You…you’re a…” You breathed out in amazement, eyes wide as you stared at him and though it wasn’t in fear, Tamaki couldn’t take it. He wriggled his tentacles free of your grip and dove deep into the water; fearing what you would do now that you knew what he was.

 .

 “Wait!”

 .

 Tamaki ignored the muffled cry for him to stop, determined not to lose the strength it took to leave you behind instead of dragging you into the depths with him.

 Before Tamaki could get too far away however, he felt your hands close around his tentacles for the second time, causing him to freeze on the spot; heart thundering in his chest. He was already struggling to keep himself contained after having his tentacles grabbed the first time, but now it was too much; his tentacles were sensitive after all.

 Tamaki turned around in the water to look at you with a hunger that he had been pushing aside for far too long; using every last ounce of willpower he had left not to grab you and take you with him to his cave.

 The two of you remained submerged for a moment longer, staring at each other through the impossibly dark ocean water of the night. Tamaki knew you couldn’t see him, but your hold on his tentacles was enough to give you a direction to look at and like this, he had the rare opportunity to take in your breathtaking appearance; enjoying it as much as possible before wrapping some of his tentacles around your body and swimming for the surface.

 You were a human, which meant that you needed oxygen. A fact that he had nearly forgotten for a moment there, but either way; Tamaki wasn’t going to let you die. Not now, not when he could prevent it.

 “I’m not…I’m not gonna—” Tamaki motioned you to stop speaking as you tried to cough at the words, a suggestion that you decided to follow given that it was hard to regain your breath and speak at the same time. Given that Tamaki was no longer trying to swim away and that his tentacles were still wrapped around your body, keeping you afloat so that you didn’t have to put any effort into swimming yourself; you figured that you had time to catch your breath.

 “I was trying to say that I’m not going to turn you in. I was just…surprised, I guess” You rubbed at your neck as you explained yourself, your words making Tamaki’s stress melt away while thoughts of adoration towards you filled his mind.

 It was mind blowing to him that a human that had just discovered his secret wasn’t about to go running off telling everyone that merpeople existed and it certainly made him love you more than he already did.

 “Though, I am a little confused. I’ve heard those stories for years, listening to them as a little girl…how going out into the water at night is a terrible idea because monsters from the ocean will drag you beneath the water and steal you away” Tamaki grimaced as you giggled at the thought, clearly having no idea how close you had come to such a fate; even if the end result would have been different. Tamaki wouldn’t have hurt you, or eaten you alive like the old monsters of the ocean would have; no, he would have done so many different things to you. Things that would surely have you slap him if he dared to say them aloud to you.

 “Well, you know…don’t believe everything you hear I guess…” He managed to get a light-hearted chuckle out as he spoke, deciding that for the moment it would be better to keep you entrapped in his tentacles; mostly so that you couldn’t grab a hold of them again and push him into his instincts more than you already have.

 “I guess so, but I don’t know…you don’t seem so bad. Maybe having you steal me away wouldn’t be so terrible” Tamaki’s features twisted into unfiltered surprise at your giggled words, blood rushing through his ears and completely blocking out whatever it was that you were currently continuing on with.

 It seemed you managed to notice the faraway look in his eyes while his mind worked overtime to process your joke. Going as far as to reach out with your hand to brush your fingertips against his cheek, ripping him from his thoughts and dragging him back to reality; your eyes locking with his heated gaze the moment his attention was back on the present you instead of his fantasy version.

 “…You would let me steal you away?” He pulled your body closer to his with his tentacles as he spoke, the slippery limbs tightening their hold on you ever-so-slightly while you gulped nervously; unable to look away from the merman in front of you.

 “…I…yes, I guess so” You spoke softly, unsure words tasting foreign to your tongue but unregrettable all the same. There was a certain air of importance surrounding the spoken words and now you found yourself slowly beginning to sink into the water with a smiling Tamaki.

 It was amazing, how his eyes had lit up with joy at your uttered words. Though it made you think vaguely of the old fae stories, where your word was a binding contract and if that were to be held in the same regard with mer-people, then it seemed like you had agreed to a new way of life.

 .

 “You won’t regret it, I promise. I’ve got the perfect place in mind for you, you’ll be safe with me…I won’t let anyone steal you away…”

#tamaki amajiki #suneater #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #suneater x reader #bnha x reader #reader x tamaki #reader x amajiki #reader x suneater #mermaid au #merman!tamaki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #requests #cheeky kitsune #sfw #fluff #fluffy

[peach-astrology]

Neptune in the houses.

Neptune in the first house:

1)Charisma even with the wrong facial features,which blooms especially brightly in the photo.This is the position of the planet had Marilyn Monroe.

2)Falling in love with an unattainable object – a movie actor,a singer,an inaccessible beauty,for example,the one in the mirror:)

3)They have a certain taste that they design on clothing and the interior of the house.I often meet such people with blue or green eyes.

4)They are very friendly and compassionate.They can be the people to talk to and cry to.

5)With bad aspects,a person may have mental illness.

Neptune in the second house:

1)They are prone to reckless spending,they can spend their entire salary on a certain thing that they literally "fell in love"with.

2)With a strong position of the planet and the absence of negative aspects,the native can really achieve success and earn good money in art,chemistry and medicine.

3)Big money can come to them in an unusual or unexpected way.And also mysteriously disappear...

4)When Neptune is affected,people can feel a lot of guilt,even where they were not at fault.

5)I really recommend keeping a money-book.This way your money will be under your guidance.There is no other way to work out this position of the planet.

Neptune in the third house:

1)It is most convenient for such people to learn through pictures and examples from life.They may not count well in their minds,for example.(But you still need to look at Mercury)

2)They can be good writers,bloggers,or singers.

3)Because of problems in the parent family,such a person often lives with one of the relatives.

4)When the planet is hit,a person can be absent-minded,do poorly in school,be very shy and have bad relationships with siblings.

5)With a strong Neptune,a person can be a good teacher(he feels other people when talking)

Neptune in the fourth house:

1)A person has problems with one of the parents who may have liked alcohol or illegal substances.Or he died early.Often,such people may still have a parent who is ill with something,who needed a lot of care.

2)Their parents may have been of different nationalities.Their house often had guests.

3)With bad aspects,a person could run away from home or leave it at an early age.

4)They relax through privacy.During this time,you can draw,meditate,or watch a movie.

5)This position of Neptune is good for social workers who are able to realize their talents for the common good,preferably within a large organization that will give them a lot of clients,colleagues and suitable motivation for their work.

Neptune in the fifth house:

1)Low self-esteem or,conversely,skillful psychological manipulation of others.

2)If the position of the planet is not worked out,a person can turn his head from the beloved.He can idealize his image,add too much romance.

3)By nature,human is a very gentle,kind and merciful person.He has charisma and sex appeal.

4)They could be very troubled children.

5)Pregnant women with this situation should be VERY careful to monitor their health.

Neptune in the sixth house:

1)They may have unusual allergies or just a large number.

2)Their health can directly depend on the cleanliness of the house and their food.

3)They should not rely on others.Not everyone works honestly and correctly.Also PLEASE respect yourself and don't help everyone.

4)The best solution for a native is to work from home or to reach the level of a manager yourself,when you don't have to spend time on routine duties.And in order to build a successful business relationship,it is important to give up the use of alcohol and psychotropic drugs,because such a person gets used to them instantly.

5)With a weak Mars in the natal chart,there is idleness and a desire to frequently change the place of residence.

Neptune in the seventh house:

1)With a harmonious Neptune in the 7th house,the native radiates the energy of love and subconsciously waits for acceptance and sympathy when getting married,moving to a new job and entering a University.

2)When the planet is affected,idealistic expectations turn into broken dreams:it is difficult to join the team,do not accept it as it is,you have to sacrifice your interests.

3)Their partner may suffer from some kind of mental disorder and the person will help to cure it.

4)Such people need to learn to read their feelings and be able to make final decisions.

5)When choosing a job,a person should carefully study the personality of the manager,so as not to experience emotional abuse.

Neptune in the eighth house:

1)You have a very active imagination and a powerful imagination.You may have an interest in the supernatural,psychic phenomena,or the occult.You may have strange fantasies,vague fears of ghosts and death,so it is best not to engage in such things until you are firmly on your feet in the material world.

2)Prone to seeing strange dreams and nightmares.Often suffers from insomnia,may end up in a dream or under anesthesia.

3)Must keep track of the family's finances,their partner may have spent too much money.

4)Their relatives have occult abilities(maybe a human too).

5)Neptune is the most passive planet and sexually it leads to deep and Platonic love.Sex and bodily pleasures are not in the first place for him,the main thing is emotions and tenderness.

Neptune in the ninth house:

1)The karmic task is not to allow yourself to become a "stranger among your own",forgetting about the roots and national traditions,maintaining a balance between the desire for reform and respect for history.

2)He is actively interested in educational programs and social reforms.He likes to study and shows the ability to learn foreign languages,and strives to help people deprived of their freedom.

3)The defeat of the planet creates a danger of ignoring professional training and determines difficulties in communicating with relatives of a partner.

4)Very often such people are very demanding in love.

5)The advice is to deal with your thoughts and ideas.You can't combine incompatible things.Spend more time meditating and being alone to make important decisions.

Neptune in the tenth house:

1)Their work must be creative for career growth.

2)The weak position of the planet provokes intrigues and intrigues of colleagues and strained relations with the boss,and in a strong position,the sharpened intuition of the native will help to get away with it.

3)If their work is normal,they can modify it.For example,such a teacher can teach in an unusual way,and simply differ from others.

4)In a good position a person can give good advice.

5)Your father was a unique person, different from other people, or unpredictable in dealing with you. Perhaps his views were unstable or he was too headstrong, but in any case, he created his own unique life. You may have been separated from it, either literally or figuratively. By interacting with it, you have learned the need to stand firmly on your own two feet, not depend on anyone, and this imprint has formed one of the basic attitudes to life that you will follow as an adult.

Neptune in the eleventh house: 

1)In love,an incorrigible romantic.

2)When Neptune is stricken,it has unreliable friends.They should choose their environment carefully even at work.

3)Even the owner of Neptune in the 11th house often has low self-esteem,is shy to show their talents,hides in the shadow of others.Having a fine mental organization,it is vital for him to learn to punch his way with his elbows,so as not to be trampled by the crowd.

4)You can read people's feelings,but you can't distinguish between friend and foe.Paradox.

5)You are the friendliest of all houses!

Neptune in the twelfth house:

1)Such people often hide their feelings and attachments.

2)Like the sixth house you need to value yourself and your time and not help everyone.

3)There are a lot of talents not only in creativity,but also in other areas of life.

4)They literally feel the money,intuition saves them from bad deals.

5)They like not to respond to messages for a long time,not because of resentment,but simply because they are resting or sleeping ahaha.

#astrology #astrologynotes #astrology observations #neptune #astrology community #zodiacsign #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #zodiac #horoscope #natal chart

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 4

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

* 

“But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

Before I get into seasons six and seven, it’s worth asking: why would the show do all of this? Why would it spend all of this time developing a supporting villain and joke id character? Why would it give him a romantic arc? I see people say that the writers only gave Spike these storylines because he was popular or they wanted to keep him around, but even that being the case, there was no need to give him the specific arc that they did. It’s more than possible to read meaning into the story that they chose from the array of possible options. 

Here is the thing about the id. It’s not actually something separate from you. It’s not a ravenous monster you can blame your weaknesses on while remaining pure and dignified. The id is part of you. The immediate and enduring appeal of Spike is, I suspect, strongly influenced by the fact that the things the id wants are so very human and sympathetic. His foibles and mistakes are often painfully familiar, even exaggerated through vampirism as they are. In fact, it’s precisely because Spike is allowed to show a full range of reactions to love, because the writing is under less pressure for him to do the “right” or dignified thing, that he can at times be compelling in ways other characters can’t. If Spike just did nasty things, his appeal wouldn’t be much more complicated than the appeal of Angelus, who people tend to like as a villain or storyline rather than as a relatable character. But Spike doesn’t want to dismember nuns or construct elaborate murder tableaux. He wants familiar things like love, identity and meaning, even if the ways he goes about getting them can reflect people’s worst impulses. 

Which brings us to Buffy, and Buffy’s story about growing up. Buffy is Buffy’s show, which means that every writing choice tends to revolve around her arc in one way or another. And this goes for Spike’s storyline even more than most. In the final three seasons of the show, the writing finally engages with how inextricable the id--and all of its impulsive, inarticulate romantic desires--really is from a person’s self. So instead of keeping Spike at a comfortable distance, both Buffy and the writing begin to take him seriously. They begin to invite him in.

Starting in season five, it’s telling how frequently Buffy herself projects on Spike, rather than just the writing setting them up as mirrors. She tells him that he’s the “only one strong enough” to protect her family, and later assigns Dawn specifically to his protection. In “Spiral” she describes him as “the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn.” This is a very intimate role that she otherwise only assigns to herself (and which is not really based on pure practicality, considering that she’ll later describe Willow as her “big gun”--yet never gives Willow the task of protecting Dawn). She tells him that he cannot love, which is the thing she fears most about herself. Her protests that Spike is a vampire, and thus cannot express or want human things like love, mirror her lamentations that as the Slayer, she cannot have a normal life.

From the Gilliland Gothic double essay:

More than any of her other lovers, Buffy and Spike overlap one another so often that at times their character arcs become nearly indistinguishable. With Angel, Buffy traveled a parallel path in attempting to master self-control. With Riley, her journey ultimately took her in the opposite direction. With Spike, Buffy’s journey is most closely shadowed, in that her interactions with him in many ways can be seen as metaphors for her feelings about herself.

So now Spike is multiple things. On the one hand, he’s the soulless id he’s been since season two. His vampiric behavior represents a morally uninhibited way of reacting to romantic frustrations, among other things. But on the other hand, his vampirism now also marks him as like Buffy, not merely her opposite.* Nor is he only her mirror in the realm of romantic love. The part of him that is a vampire is the part of him that is supernatural (ie, Romantically larger-than-life), that sets him apart from regular people, and dictates how he can and cannot behave. Just like Buffy’s slayerness. His vampirism is what makes him capable of protecting Dawn, while also making him (supposedly, according to Buffy) incapable of human feeling--again, just like Buffy’s slayerness. Instead of Buffy’s Slayer side being aligned with Angelus, who was an unmitigated evil, it becomes aligned with Spike, who is something more complicated. 

*(Though it must be noted that this was a process that began in season four, with the show aligning Spike with the Scoobies by making him a victim of the Initiative. Spike being supernatural suddenly marks him as non-normative, just like the Scoobies, in contrast to the institutional conformity that the Initiative represents. The evolution towards treating the Romantic supernatural as something positive and associated with identity plays a key role in transitioning the show to the more complicated attitudes of the last three seasons.)

This shift in the show’s attitudes towards the id affects how Spike is used. In “Blood Ties” for example, Spike assists Dawn in breaking into the Magic Shop and in “Forever” he helps Dawn resurrect her and Buffy’s mother. In both cases, Spike could be read as embodying impulsive behavior that Buffy is supposed to be better than. Yet both cases specifically involve Spike helping Dawn, who is repeatedly portrayed as Buffy’s human side. As Buffy says in “The Gift”: “[Dawn]’s more than [my sister]. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. [...] Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I--”. In other words, Buffy’s id becomes closely tied to her humanity, even going so far as to become its safeguard. “Blood Ties” ends with Buffy affirming her connection to Dawn, which Spike’s rule-breaking directly enabled, and “Forever” ends with Buffy acknowledging how desperately she wants her mother back too, and becoming closer to Dawn as a result. (Compare to “Lovers Walk”, where Buffy acknowledging her id results in her breaking away from Angel, not drawing closer to anyone). Or in “Intervention”, Spike building the Buffybot directly parallels Buffy’s own anxieties about what she thinks she should be. She thinks she’s losing her ability to love, and that effusive fakery is her only recourse (as she said in “I Was Made to Love You”: “Maybe I could change. [...] I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes. I mean men like that right? The joke laughing at?”), a fear that even has some merit, given that her friends cannot tell her and the bot apart. Instead of Buffy and Spike having separate arcs in the episode, Spike learning the difference between real and fake dovetails with Buffy’s own relationship to her realness and fakeness. It turns out that neither of them want a bot version of Buffy. They want real emotion, things like sacrifice and heartfelt gratitude. If even Buffy’s id would let itself be killed for Dawn, then maybe she has nothing to fear from herself. Maybe there is some beauty in the emotional part of her nature that she thinks she must repress.

In other words, part of the writing (and Buffy) fully engaging with romanticism and the id, means engaging with the ways they can be bad and good. There’s this weird thing that happens with Spike as soon as he falls in love with Buffy, where suddenly his actions are more uncomfortable, and to many, off-putting, because their object is Buffy (instead of another vampire like Harmony or Drusilla, who either enjoy the same vampiric things he does, or the audience might be inclined to see as a moral nonentity regardless). His comic id quality becomes somewhat darker and more serious, almost like the way Angel’s early season two darkness becomes more serious after he loses his soul. But at the same time, Spike’s actions are also more intriguing, sympathetic, and even noble...because their object is Buffy. It makes no sense that a soulless vampire should not only fall in love with the Slayer, but genuinely attempt to transform himself into someone worthy of her love. And yet that’s exactly what Buffy inspires him to do. By loving Buffy Spike’s dual nature, and the dual nature of his romanticism, is thrown into relief: it’s something that can be selfish and creepy, yes, but also something that hints at the idea that real romanticism does exist. Something worth feeling romantically about does exist. Thus the writing can at once criticize, say, the way the chivalric mindset conflates love and suffering, while also suggesting that there are kinds of love it’s worth being transformed by. (Meanwhile, Spike’s fumbling bewilderment over how to love Buffy, and what the rules of loving people correctly even are, creates a human middle ground between monstrousness and heroism). By leaning into the way that Buffy and Spike have been used as mirrors for three seasons, and introducing the mythology-bending idea of Spike being in love with Buffy, the writing is able to fully engage with this complicated, contradictory nature of love and romance.

All of which is to say. Spike becomes a potential love interest, and is given a convoluted inner conflict between monstrousness, humanity and heroism, in precisely the season in which Buffy begins to reckon with her own inner conflict between her darker impulses, her human reality, and her supernatural role. It’s no coincidence that season five opens with Dracula, an icon of romantic vampire mythology, tempting Buffy with darkness and promising her insight into her nature. Or that a vampire kidnaps Dawn--again, her human half--in the next episode. Or that the season’s antagonist is a super-strong blonde woman who wants to destroy Dawn instead of protect her. Or that she says goodbye to Riley, the boyfriend who embodied her hopes for a more normative way of being (notice how Riley is progressively destabilized by everything non-normative about Buffy’s life, and provokes those anxieties Buffy expresses in “I Was Made to Love You”). Over and over in season five, Buffy fears that her Slayer half is cold, destructive, and otherwise dangerous. That these Romantic things like gods and vampires have it in for Buffy’s vulnerable humanity. Yet Buffy’s vampire id simultaneously gives lie to these fears by proving itself capable of heroism and genuine human feeling.

In other words, Spike becomes a potential love interest in a season that treats the Romantic--ie the grand and mythical--as something more than just an attractive lie to be disabused of. Rather, the question that season five seems to posit to me, and which will not be fully answered until the end of season seven, is this: once you do clear away the attractive lies, once you accept the hard realities, once you’ve seen the darkest underbellies, what are the things that are left that are truly grand and beautiful? What are the stories that are really worth telling, and the heroes that are really worth having?

And the show asks and answers these questions on both a very personal level, and a more meta, systemic level. On the personal level, Buffy and Spike are forced to confront their illusions not just about the world, but about themselves. They are made to ask themselves what constitutes a heroic role or a demonic weakness, versus basic, unromantic humanity. And on the meta level, the show asks questions about our expectations for how both love stories and chosen hero stories are supposed to go.

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

#romanticism series #gen #s5 #buffy #spike #riley #btvs

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 3 (6-15): “That wasn’t supposed to happen” | Reconciling with Tim | Autistic!Damian

Note: at this point, this is just "Damian cries and Dick hugs him" week. Someone send help. I love these two so much.

Warnings: angst and tears and Damian being a ball of separation anxiety.

---

The smell of sea salt mixed with the pollution of Gotham's coast is almost close to nauseating. If Damian hadn't already been feeling anxious and sick to his stomach, he would definitely be now.

And the thing is, he doesn't even know why.

It's been this way all night. It started before tonight, even. He's convinced himself it's probably something he had for lunch, but even a child would know that's a weak grasping of straws. No one ever gets sick from the food made in the Wayne Manor, not when Alfred is there to cook it.

But he tells himself it's because of that anyways. He feels sick to his stomach because the lettuce in his sandwich must have been old. Not for any other reason. And certainly not because his father has been off-world for the past month and Richard is once again holding the mantle of Batman while he's away.

"What do you say about heading home early?" Richard asks from where he stands besides Damian. The word home grates on Damians nerves for reasons that he... cannot bring himself to comprehend.

Damian nods his head, not saying anything. It's been a quiet night in Gotham anyways. His nerves feel fried from the constant anxiety pressing in his chest and he's sure the moment he gets to his bed he'll pass out.

Or at least stare blankly at the ceiling until he does.

The ride back to the manor is silent between Damian and Richard. Almost a month ago, it used to be loud with banter whenever he and Richard had a minute to themselves. They'd get back at the manor and Alfred would be there to pester them into taking care of themselves. Cassandra and Duke would enter and leave as they wished with the occasional appearances of Timothy and Jason. The only time they had to themselves was inside the batmobile, as there's not much private banter you can have while defending the streets either.

But it's silent now. Damian's chest and stomach hurts and no words seem to want to come to his throat, but he's not usually the one to start the conversations anyways. Something is keeping Richard silent as well. The thought that, for whatever reason, Richard doesn't want to talk to him makes his anxiety spike just the same as the thought of conversation.

It feels like the second they pull into the cave Damian's jumping out of the car and stalking towards the changing rooms. Alfred let's him stride past, lifting an eyebrow as he does, but he doesn't stop him. Alfred simply walks over towards Richard and offers him a cup of tea from the metal tray he's been holding.

Damian can hear the low rumble of words beginning to be exchanged between the two, but he's already too far away to make sense of them. He doesn't care to listen anyways. He just wants to get dressed and go to bed without anyone talking to him.

Without anyone asking him what's wrong. They must notice something is wrong, right? What would he say if they do ask? No. No one knows anything is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.

He dresses into a clean pair of pajamas that feel fresh from the dryer and heads straight towards the exit of the batcave, not sparing Richard or Alfred a glance as he does so.

Everything is okay. He ate something bad for lunch.

That's all.

He manages to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. Cassandra and Duke must be busy tonight, and he can't think of any reason why Timothy and Jason would be here at this hour of night. It's not surprising he didn't run into anyone. Why does he almost wish he had?

He shakes his head and closes the door behind him. Whatever is making him feel this way, it will go away if he rests. He's sure of it.

Wordlessly and single-mindedly, he removes the decorative pillows from his bed and pulls down the sheets. In a few practiced and fluid movements, he's under the covers and glaring at the ceiling, his stomach clenching.

There's glow in the dark stars above him, made of plastic and held to the ceiling with fun-tak. His eyes drift to a bigger glowing figure, it's circular and there's swirling patterns that mimic the global storm of Jupiter's surface. Another has two rings, like the planet in Treasure Planet.

Richard put them up the second month after Damian first came here. Damian had expressed... desires... to study and learn how kids who weren't raised in the League of Assassins lived. Glow in the dark stars was something Richard very much enjoyed getting off of Amazon that night, saying they were all the craze when he was younger. Every friend he visited had them in their bedrooms. His own childhood bedroom still has some old and dim ones hanging on the ceiling from when he convinced his father to get him some.

He didn't understand the appeal of them then. Nor does he now. Perhaps it's something to do with children in Gotham never seeing the actual stars because of the light pollution. All he knows is that in the desert he grew up in... these fake green plastic decorations do not compare to the galaxy he used to see as if the only thing separating him from the universe was a single pane of glass.

He turns away from the fake stars, closing his eyes, before they open again to glare now at his bookshelf, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and Cheese Viking figurines. There's a collectable coin there too, one Richard accidentally won way back when he decided to buy a mystery box from some website. It turned out to be pretty rare. He gave it to Damian and Damian got curious enough to look up the game.

It's his favorite game now. Because Richard found him a random gold coin.

Richard. His stomach clenches. Why won't it stop hurting? He has no reason to be this anxious.

No reason at all.

There's a soft knock on his door. Damian shifts so he's holding himself up on his elbows, watching as the door opens to reveal none other than Richard. His hair looks damp from a shower, which makes Damian wonder how long he's been glaring at random things in his room. He's dressed in an old Gotham Knight's tee-shirt with mustard stains around the right breast. Damian went to a game with him when he was wearing that shirt. He accidentally got shoved into Richard in the crowd, looking for their seats, when Richard was holding a hotdog. It got all over him, but the mustard is the only thing that persisted multiple rounds in the washer.

"Dami? You up?" Richard asks. Damian reaches over and turns on the dim lamp by his bedside.

Richard's eyes settle on him, and he smiles. It looks strained though.

That festering, lingering anxiety spikes.

"What is it?" He asks.

Richard walks into the room, then sits down on the side of Damian's bed. Damian bends his knees to allow room for him. He brings his pillow in front of his body and hugs it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question shocks Damian, as he didn't mean to ask it. It seems to startle Richard as well, because he goes stock still and looks at Damian with wide eyes.

It shocks them both, but it must be the reason if a bad lunch isn't.

Then, Richard breaks into soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was about to ask the same thing, actually," he says, once the laughter dies down.

Damian frowns. Has Richard done anything wrong?

No. The answer is immediate. Richard hasn't done a single thing wrong. He's been nothing but his usual annoying and loud and pushy and kind and loving self since his father left and he came to keep the suit warm.

It almost feels like the beginning all over again. Waking up in the morning and smelling sweetened mocha instead of straight black coffee. Sketching in the afternoons by the fireplace in the family room and being interrupted by Richard barging in with a portable speaker, blasting the newest trending pop song. Going to bed with a goodnight hug. Bandaids snuck into Alfred's first aid supply that have cartoon and Disney characters designs. He's wearing a Frozen 2 bandaid now, on his knee.

If his father hadn't left with the rest of the Justice League, the band-aid would be a normal tan color and the day would be close to silent and alone.

It's feeling normal again, he realizes with horror. Because whatever mood Richard brings into the manor isn't normal. Normal is Bruce Wayne silently checking up on him throughout the day and calmly helping him with homework and giving tips on sketching techniques. Normal is leaning against the strong shoulder of his father as he tests those tips while his father reads a book, the only sounds to interrupt them being the ticking clock on the wall and the crackling of the fire.

Normal is... Normal isn't...

It's not this. He likes the time he spends with his father. He enjoys the wordless love and reassuring squeezes to his shoulder.

Normal isn't the loudness and silliness of Richard's affection.

And just like that, he finally knows what's wrong.

It feels the same as it used to be. Back when they thought his father was dead. Back when Richard seemed to be the only trusted adult in his life, and the daily interactions he had with him almost promised to be infinite.

And then they found out his father was still alive, just stuck in time. With the help of Timothy and others... They managed to bring him back.

And.

And.

And Richard left.

And Damian was left.

And.

And that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He hasn't allowed himself to think about much. It was something neither of them had acknowledged or mentioned. Richard once said he considered adopting Damian if his father was dead. Damian didn't stop himself from taking comfort in that.

And it feels like history is repeating itself. His father is away. Richard is Batman.

However, now Damian knows that the second his father returns, Richard will be packing his bags and leaving. This isn't normal. He can't get used to this again. He loves his father. But Richard...

It hurt enough the first time, watching him go.

And it will happen all over again. He'll get comfortable with Richard and his daily hugs and laughter, and then he'll be gone.

Separation anxiety. He has separation anxiety.

"Oh buddy," Richard coos, wrapping his arms around Damian and bringing him to his lap to hold him better.

He's crying. Tears are running down his face and it's stupid, because he knows that when Richard leaves again, it won't be like he'll never see him again.

But he's crying, and it hurts. Hurts more than if he had eaten something bad. He clutches to the pillow between them and let's the tears fall.

"Tell me what's wrong," Richard soothes, probably the only person in the entire universe to not freak out when he cries. Probably the only person in the entire universe Damian would allow himself to cry like this to. "What can I do to help?"

"It's stupid," Damian says, through it's through a hiccupping sob, which makes it sound very not stupid to someone like Richard. He sniffs and rubs his eyes on the pillow, forcing his breathing to go normal and to stop crying. "It's nothing. Father will come back, and- and you'll go back to Blüdhaven, and everything will be normal again."

Richard stills, then sighs. "So it's about that," he says softly. Of course he immediately knows what Damian means. He tightens his hold on Damian. "You know when your dad comes back, nothing will change between us, right? Even if we're on the opposite side of the world."

"I don't want to be on the opposite side of the world," Damian snaps, shoving himself away from Richard and glaring. "I want- I don't-" he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

Dick is silent, then he shifts closer and wraps his arm around Damian's shoulder gently. "I know. I don't either. But... it's just the way things have to be. You know this. Just like you know that... that if you ever really want to, I can clean out my guest room."

Damian shakes his head, his feelings feeling so all over the place and raw. "I just- when father came back, I didn't expect you to just leave. I don't want to choose. I-"

"I know," Richard whispers. "I know. I love Bruce. He's my dad too. But, you know us. If I move back in, we'll be at each other's throats. I'm a grown man now, Dami. I have to be on my own. He's... Protective. He still sees me as seventeen years old. And he's your father. You should be with him."

Damian sniffs. He doesn't nod. He doesn't shake his head. Agree nor disagree.

Simply understands.

It's just the way things are.

He stays silent as Richard continues. "And you know that I'll always be there for you, if you need me. I'll drop everything for you. Just say the word. I'll be running, even if I'm on the other side of the world."

Now Damian nods. Let's the cotton of his pillowcase soak up his silent tears.

He doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't feel so awful anymore either. He supposes that's the best it will get in this situation.

So he just sits there until his head begins to dip with exhaustion and Richard pulls him in so he's laying against his shoulder. His eyelids droop, and they stay there, together, like they used to.

It's scary to allow himself to become attached to things, but he can never help himself with Richard.

The best that he can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of it.

Richard will be gone when father comes home, but for now he's here, and he's warm, and he's solid.

Damian falls asleep, and Richard doesn't leave that night.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #jin writes #fanfiction #dc comics

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That���s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

[leportraitducadavre]

On Itachi, his fandom, and moral standpoints

Once again I come back with a meta, unsurprisingly, of Naruto’s manga and, more specifically, about a character in particular, Uchiha Itachi, his fandom and what it entails and represents. My decision to make him the primary focus of this meta is just to bring light (open the door for more in depth debates) of a deeper, much more complicated problem that Itachi represents, but undoubtedly surpasses him and the Naruto manga as a whole.

Be warned, my take on Itachi’s fandom does not contemplate those fans who merely enjoy him but do not negate important parts of his character, if that’s your particular case, then be assured that I did not have you in my mind when writing this. This is about, let’s say, the hardcore fandom he possesses, that justifies (and to some extent, celebrates) his implications in the UCM and blindfold loyalty to Konoha and its system.

How can I even begin to introduce Itachi’s character? What he was supposed to be and what he surprisingly became? How to start to explain his fenomenon? Itachi was not supposed to be good, from his introduction he was a manipulative, dark character that tortured physically and mentally Sasuke and was a threat to Naruto’s (the protagonist) life. At no point during the first part of the manga were we able to see glimpses of a “good” Itachi that the narrative later on tried to establish, and yet, there were three (conected) factors of imperative importance to understand the raise of his character from the first part of the manga to the other. 

The first one was, let’s call it, his intrinsecal persona's appeal (and everything it encompases).

Itachi’s not the first cryptic male character that gets favored by a large part of the fandom for that mere trait (look at any shönen or show and see how many characters whose sole trait is to be mysterious becomes the fandom’s favorite), added to the fact that he’s powerful enough to subdue men who’s status of geniuses are often highlighted in the manga (Orochimaru and Kakashi), and his... physical charm, you have a powerful combo to make readers incline more and more on his favor. Itachi had sparked their interest. 

There are boxes to fill to attract the public interest to a character, and Itachi filled in all of them. 

The Power-Mystery-Beauty triangle is not an unknown formula (Christian Gray, Edward Cullen, to name characters from mainstream, from other manga there is Light, now surprisingly, Dabi) and in every fiction work it has appeared, it worked to lure the (female) public towards it.

But is that enough? For some, yes, for most, Itachi represents something that they desired profoundly, and that’s entirely attached to Sasuke’s character.

Even back in the first part of the manga, Sasuke’s character was received mixedly, there were people who saw his personality as too abrasive (similar to Itachi’s but because Sasuke was supposed to be with the nice guys, this aspect of him clashed rather harshly with his position on the narrative) and considered him a mere emo who believed himself to be better than Naruto and Sakura (he was, but he also acknowledged this fact, which make some readers disapprove of him even more). 

Itachi challenged that “so-called” superiority, additionally downgrading and humiliating him in a way readers felt he, to some extent, deserved. The dislike of part of the fandom of Sasuke’s character found a way of purchase inside the manga. Naruto wasn’t strong enough (and eventually cared too much) to subdue Sasuke, Sakura was too in awe with him to “stand up against him”, Kakashi saw his greatness and taught him powerful jutsus while paying zero attention to his other students. Until Itachi, no other character seemed to put Sasuke “in his place”, because even the villains of each arc seemed particularly obsessed with Sasuke and Sasuke only, elevating even more his importance and status and sidelining Naruto and (of course), Sakura, who were left with mere participations in what seemed a Sasuke-focused plot. Up at this point, Sasuke was far more important than the actual protagonist of the manga but Itachi, who was actually Sasuke’s goal, who was actually the person Sasuke aspired to surpass, abused him, manipulated him and -more importantly- seemed more focused on getting Naruto -hence, retribution: the only person Sasuke seemed to care about didn’t seem care about him at all.

Itachi’s coolness, strength and mature handsomeness (that Sasuke did not present until Shippuden, but Itachi was literally introduced with), plus the dislike of Sasuke’s character and the belief that he needed to be rectified, the reason of which will be brought up next, appealed the teenage fandom in a way strong enough to catapult him inside the popularity polls just right after his presentation. 

The Self-inserts inside Itachi’s fandom

As I introduced, a large part of the fandom back in the first part already, and in Shippuden particularly, had a deep dislike of Sasuke’s character and wanted him to suffer -to be beaten, to be “owned”, Itachi’s character fulfilled that wish, which takes me to the second factor. 

You can’t explain this point in particular without adding the “self-insert” and “reader-insert” notions that often gets attached to Itachi (Sakura, Naruto and Hinata) fans, 

“Self-insertion is a practice by authors of writing themselves into their own stories, either explicitly or in thinly-disguised form; in a fannish context this most often means fan writers writing themselves into their favorite source material so that they can interact with canon or its characters” (X)

Whilst

“Reader-Insert is a type of fanfiction, almost always written in 2nd person Point of View; the protagonist is always the reader, and is usually paired with one of the canon characters. "Reader-insert" typically has a hyphen hyphen, but is also known as Canon X Reader (sometimes CanonXReader).” (X)

In this particular case, many readers had succumbed to something slightly in between. The manga doesn’t belong to them, so the only one in position to literally self-insert is Kishimoto (canonically), so they are left with the option of attaching themselves personally to a pre-existed character with whom they feel somewhat represented. If not, then at least they attach emotionally to a character because it represents what they desire (this can be more observed in the shipping part of the fandom). Meaning, they use a canon established character that is not literally the reader, but who clearly represents them or represents what they want in their significant (romantical) other. 

Sakura was the only female lead who had a crush on the cool guy, readers (particular female ones) didn’t need much to feel a connection with her (during the first part, Kishimoto didn’t even give them much to do so, but they still attached to her with the prospect of what she might become), while Naruto was the dead last, it appealed to those who also felt that they weren’t popular or were mistreated by their peers.

But what the self-inserts of Sakura or even Naruto had to do with the increasing love for Itachi? 

To explain this in a way that can be understandable: Sakura fans who believed Sasuke disrespected her when not acknowledging her feelings or when downgrading her skills often turned their attention to the man of similar physique and strength to fulfill their fantasies of reciprocation -because canonically, Itachi had neither rejected, nor downgraded her character. In the same fashion, Naruto fans who believe Sasuke is egotistical by not caring for/acknowledging Naruto in the same manner he does (hence, not deserving him), tend to also indulge in the same type of behavior previously mentioned. 

Later on, when the narrative introduces the idea that Itachi stands alongside Konoha (Naruto and Sakura), thus, against Sasuke (from an idealistic standpoint), this particular practice deepens, grows. They feel validated on their idea that Itachi will treat  their favorite character (them) better, while at the same time punishing Sasuke for rejecting them.

There are not many cases of Itachi self-inserts, I’m not denying their existence however because he did fulfilled a wish many readers had (against Sasuke), but Itachi’s self-insert part of the fandom seems to be more in terms of female character fans that desire their favorite kunoichi to be loved/desired/respected? by a powerful, handsome, mysterious character. 

Sasuke’s importance in the narrative (and character growth)

Sasuke escaping Konoha to get to Orochimaru, train, and become strong enough to defeat Itachi and avenge his clan won’t hold up for the four hundred or so chapters Naruto Shippuden lasts. After Itachi’s defeat at his hands, Sasuke had no reason not to return to Konoha, more importantly, he had no reason to fight Naruto as it was the intention and ultimate and most important clash in the manga since the introduction of their rivalry. 

Sasuke’s growth as a character (that I spoke more detailed in this post) was tied to the introduction of a deeper, more important problem: Konoha’s involvement in the UCM. It wasn’t new in Naruto to present the dichotomy and harsh truths of the shinobi system (Hyuga clan, Haku, Jinchurikis), and the intervention of Konoha’s government in the massacre of the Uchiha clan provided the narrative with a reason to have both Sasuke and Naruto fighting in different sides of the battlefield, but also presented a deeper problem: Itachi couldn’t be bad.

He couldn’t stand in the “bad” side of the field because both, that would put Naruto (the hero) in the same morally bad position, and Itachi's fandom (which was massive), was eager for redemption, they demanded it, and Naruto is not a manga that doesn’t get influenced by what its purchasers want. In consequence, they needed to justify Itachi’s actions. We can talk about how abysmally bad they did it, we can talk about how much better this problem could have been sorted out, but that is not the core of this post. 

Kishimoto loved Sasuke, I have said this before, despite the fandom wishes, he stood his ground when it came to Sasuke and his revolutionary position until the very end. Maintaining that ideal as just, put Naruto (hence, Itachi) in the wrong. But because the narrative needed Naruto to be good and in the right, he ended up justifying genocide by justifying Itachi.

Consequently, and with the appeal he earned with his introduction and the Sasuke-hate (self-inserts), Itachi became a favorite character amongst favorite characters despite being a plot holes with legs. Readers eagerly consumed whatever panel proved that Itachi was not the bad guy he was previously believed to be. (proved or at least didn’t show, Itachi still commited genocide, but we don’t get to see such attrocities so its easier to forget he slaughtered innocent people, children amongst them). Readers who liked him were desperate for the narrative’s validation.

Core of the issue

Which brings me to the core of the post and in retrospection, I have already presented it: moral standpoints. This is not new, I’m not introducing any new idea, and this is hardly something that happens solely in the Naruto’s (and most specifically Itachi’s) fandom. Liking or not a character is tied to so many subjective variables that it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what makes a character desirable or despicable despite solid traits being commonly shared on particular troups. And yet, liking or not a character became a moral standpoint for which people judged each other on a personal level. It has happened since always, but the internet did nothing but make more accessible and public this type of clashes. Therefore, Redemption Arcs became the most precious gem inside fictional works and Naruto fell for it, and fell hard. 

It’s almost mandatory to have the narrative’s validation in order to enjoy a character freely and Naruto provided it to Itachi’s fandom. His actions were justified by the manga and the most important (and beloved) characters stood by his side, even those who were victims of him forgave his actions because there was someone (with less appeal and more morally questionable actions under his belt) to blame further. Having the narrative’s moral validation is more important than actually being in the right. 

Itachi was manipulated by the Will of Fire who he learned from Hiruzen who was passed to him by Tobirama who created it because he was raised during the Warring States Period, so his apprehension to the Uchiha was justified. It’s a train of justifications that ultimately holds no one responsible for the genocide of an entire clan/race which then becomes something bound to happen. So to save face, they use an escape goat: Danzo and the Curse of Hatred. They put the blame of the massacre to a single character and the actual victims because, well, they were genetically prone to disaster and killing them was the only way to ensure (temporary) peace.

Liking a character doesn’t automatically mean condoning its actions but because that subjective appeal became more and more the reflection of the reader’s ideals (for some reason I’m not here to trace), those two actions merged, which translated consequently into demanding the narrative’s validation of our tastes. There’s no denial of the pleasing sensation that comes with having the plot’s endorsement for liking a complex/morally gray or even dark character, but that approval turned to be the most important/valuable requirement, which, in turn, made readers justificate (supported by the narrative) despicable actions, such as genocide. 

Let’s go back to the second bullet point, self- inserts, as to discern more in depth their reasons to look for a justification on Itachi’s character: Itachi (an Uchiha that was not affected by the Curse, as his peers were) who the narrative proclaims wanted his brother’s safety and happiness above all things, stands morally with Konoha (hence, the readers’ favorite character). Therefore, justifying his actions is justifying Sakura and Naruto’s actions against Sasuke (manipulation is alright because Itachi did it, trying to kill Sasuke because he didn’t want to bend to their will is alright because Itachi did it), it gives them reasons to believe that they are on the right side of the battlefield, it gives them moral superiority. They’re in the right, they are good people, Sasuke was too deep in his hatred to either see it or correspond their feelings and that’s why he needs to be saved, and who more appropriate to do so than the two characters that were mocked by him during the first part of the manga? Even in the end, Itachi still gives them the retribution they still feel deserve and that Sasuke -still- didn’t give. 

#naruto #naruto meta #anti itachi uchiha #anti itachi #anti sakura #anti sakura haruno #anti sakura fandom #anti naruto uzumaki #anti naruto #anti naruto fandom #anti itachi fandom #sasuke uchiha #sasuke #pro sasuke #anti konoha #anti shinobi system #this will probably be edited

[qlala]

Hi here's my money for that Barry and Len "guilt versus shame" essay. Thanks! 💰💰💰💰💰 (I drew the dollar signs on the bags myself. I'm crafty)

Anon when I said essay, I meant essay. But alright. Here you go. for you and your hand-drawn dollar signs. Come, take this journey with me. (A journey of character analysis for fun—please, no one take this as reliable psychology.)

As I said, I consider the main conflict between Barry and Leonard not one of good versus evil, but of guilt versus shame. Specifically, the difference between them is that Barry is a character motivated by guilt, while Len is motivated by shame.

(And to get this out of the way - I’m not talking about sexuality, but how Barry and Len relate to the world and other people. I don’t think Len is the least bit ashamed of his sexuality; Wentworth Miller has always said that Len is someone who knows exactly who he is, and I think that’s true).

A more accurate way of talking might be to say that guilt-driven characters are motivated by love, while shame-driven characters are motivated by respect.

I’m going to start with Barry, because guilt-motivated characters tend to be much more straight-forward than shame-driven characters. Barry grew up (with some bumps along the way) in supportive, loving homes. His parents, and later Joe, always treated him with love, which allows Barry to love himself and other people.

Treating children with love is the most basic respect their guardians can afford them, and they’ll always have that basic core of respect to fall back on in the face of outside adversity. (Barry is remarkably hard to ruffle with insults—antagonists always have to target the people he loves, because he just… does not rise to the bait when it’s just his own pride on the line.)

This kind of early exposure to love and respect are fundamental to being able to feel guilt about harming others later in life. Barry was raised to respect and love other people (in the general, “love your fellow man” sense), so he would feel guilty if he hurt someone innocent. The core sense of self-respect and self-love that Barry developed in childhood means Barry’s sense of self can always take the hit when he feels guilty about hurting other people.

Guilt makes us feel, temporarily, unloveable. But because Barry was raised to feel fundamentally deserving of love, he can afford to feel briefly unloveable when he hurts other people—it just means he needs to make amends, and then he’ll be worthy of that love again.

That’s why Barry’s a guilt-driven (or love-driven) character: when he interacts with the world, the thing he’s most afraid of losing is love. He’s never been put in a position where he feels like what he’s missing is respect.

And that’s where he and Len differ. Len’s not guilt- or love-driven; he’s shame-driven.

Len appears to feel zero guilt for hurting innocent people, at least when we first meet him in season 1. And the reason for that is Lewis. As I mentioned, love is a prerequisite for guilt. And unlike Barry, Len wasn’t brought up in a loving home. I highly doubt that Lewis’s love for Len was ever freely given, even before he became physically abusive. And if it was, that sense of self was absolutely ripped away from Len when that abuse started.

As I mentioned, treating children with love is the most basic respect their guardians can give them. By withholding that love, Lewis taught Len that he was inherently worthy of neither love nor respect. Raised in that environment, where violence was the way Len saw power exerted over others, the natural response was for Len to seek out respect, not love. He had nothing to gain from loving others—and therefore, from feeling guilt—because he’d already been taught he could survive without love. What he couldn’t survive without was respect, because disrespect meant becoming the object of violence—first from his father, and later, from the criminal justice system.

(Prison is a conversation for another day, but suffice to say, the dehumanizing treatment incarcerated people face parallels that childhood lack of love, robs them of the self-respect and self-love they need to have healthy relationships with other people, and increases the likelihood that they’ll commit violent crimes, not reduces it).

So Len did whatever it took to survive, and survival meant accumulating respect. There’s an obvious cure to this obsession with respect, of course: 1) love, and 2) safety.

Now, as eager as I am to jump into how Barry helped Len break the cycle of violence, Barry’s not the source of love I want to talk about here. Barry comes in later; when I talk about the love that saved Leonard, I’m talking about Lisa.

Because, listen—I’m as exhausted as you are by the trope of “female loved one is male character’s humanity,” especially where, like in some of the Flash comics, it means killing off Lisa to make Leonard a more ruthless (and, I guess the the theory goes, interesting?) villain. But Lisa isn’t just some crack in Len’s armor; she fundamentally changed Len’s life when she was born.

Len was already somewhere between thirteen and sixteen by the time Lisa was born; for the sake of convenience, let’s put him around 15. (For some more detailed meta about the Sniblings' ages, check out this excellent post by @coldtomyflash). If Len was five when Lewis went to prison, and ten when Lewis came out a much more violent man (see: everything I said about prison earlier), that means Len experienced several years of incredibly traumatic treatment before Lisa was born.

He and Mick were in juvie together at least once when Len was still young enough to be “the smallest kid in there,” and Len was nearly killed. Mick saved him, yes, but the experience had to further numb Len to guilt and reinforce that violence and respect were the only real paths to survival.

And then, Lisa. Len clearly, canonically loves Lisa from the moment she’s born. We know nothing about either of their mothers (and it is pretty likely, given the 15-year age gap between them, that they have different mothers), but they’re clearly both out of the picture—Lisa says Len raised her. Len raised her! Fifteen years old, three years away from being free and clear of Lewis’s house forever, and Len stays to raise her.

Lisa is absolutely the one person keeping Len from sliding fully head-first into the path carved for him by Lewis and reinforced by the prison system. He is still primarily shame- and respect-driven—we see him kill people without any guilt, hell, he tries to derail a train with children on board in season one just to see what Barry will do.

But Lisa taught Len that he’s deserving of love and capable of loving others, and because of that, Len cannot, will not respect Lewis for his violence he rains on them both.It leaves open a door in his mind: Lisa doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, which could mean, if he could ever afford to consider it, that he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, either.

It’s why Barry is so unbelievably smug at the end of “Family of Rogues.” He’s figured it out; he wouldn’t put it in terms like guilt and shame, but he’s cracked it all the same. He always knew Len was like him, was someone who had been forced into violence by his circumstances, and now he has proof. Barry is remarkably unconcerned that Len shot Lewis; he’s briefly surprised, sure, but by the end of the episode he’s visiting Len in Iron Heights and goading him about the good in him.

And that’s where Barry comes in. He’s the crucial second ingredient to that cure for shame—he’s the safety.

He blazes into Len’s life and praises him for things no one else ever praised him for: for his morals, for his mercy, for the way he loves Lisa. He gives him an acceptable out to stop killing (he appeals to his vanity, says he’s good enough at what he does that he doesn’t need to hurt innocents, and they both know it’s an excuse), and he makes it clear that he respects not Len’s capacity for violence, but his desire to escape the need for it.

He also offers Len protection to start making that transition. Len knows, even if neither of them say it, that Barry would drop everything to help him if he called. When Len’s reluctant do-gooding puts him in harm’s way, like with King Shark in ARGUS, Barry does drop everything. He gives up a tool that could save Iris’s life to save Len’s instead. This is not me hating on westallen at all—Barry’s sense of obligation to Len is just that strong. He knows he’s put Len on slippery ground by helping extract him from the safety net he’d built himself out of violence.

And that’s Barry’s guilt drive in action—because yeah, he loves Len. He cares about him, and he respects him, and that’s love to Barry. He just wants to give Len the chance to love people that way, too. And in the end, Len, despite all his misgivings, ends up letting him.

#and then he. and then he d. he di- #i'm going to go stare into the ocean #leonard snart #barry allen #coldflash #to an extent. and that extent is that i think they should kiss on the mouth #lisa snart #the sniblings #abuse mention tw // #meta #i might get into how barry's childhood tracks a little closer to len's than i gave him credit for in this post but like #another post for another day

[uponrightful]

So, I love possessive, jealous Crosshair 🥵 Tell me about this scene (please?):

“Trouble doesn’t suit you, doll.” He murmured lowly, soft voice contrasting the slight pressure over her pulse point and the swell of her hip. Crosshair was all-consuming and Dutch was weak to do anything but try to stay silent under his pressing weight and commanding presence at her back.

Also, I’d love to know what Echo was thinking once Cross went to the fresher after Dutch.

You’re the best! 😘

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

*send one in here anytime!*

My oh my! 😍 What spicy scene we have here. I'll start with what's going on with Crosshair first, then I'll come back for Echo and the rest of the Batch. haha

***

Crosshair is fuming with rage during his conversation with Echo: It's that kind of bodily energy you get after watching a action-movie, where your whole body feels tired, but it's twitching with adrenaline that can't be spent or released. That kind of feeling you can't get rid of no matter what you do to ignore it, or work through it. Your mind feels like it working so fast that it's in slow-motion, overanalyzing the smallest details until your grinding your teeth because there's nothing else that helps relieve the pressure.

But the second he enters the refresher all of that energy snaps from anger and fear for Duchess, into dead calm. His inner voice stops screaming and evens out in tone and his hands stop shaking. His breathing slows and the second Cross sees her standing there, it's like he's been meditating deeply for hours. This kind of concentration is only present in Crosshair one other time... And you guessed it. When he's shooting.

Note: This is the epitome of Crosshair's ability to manage impulse-control in unfamiliar -and stressful- situations. Key-word here being "unfamiliar." I firmly believe that Cross is painfully terrible at monitoring and expressing his emotions. He has so many of them all the time that from a young age he had to learn how to turn them off in a moments notice, simply so he could survive. Think about it... How can a sniper worry about his brothers dying right before his eyes and still make clean shots? Not even Crosshair can do that. So the second he's certain Dutch is safe -by visually proving her health- that well-trained nature takes over to protect him like it always does.

Crosshair -at this point- isn't sure what he wants. He needs to touch her though, remind himself that she's tangible and within reach. Not that he isn't aware of his effect on her, but this moment isn't about sexual appeal or attraction. This is desperation, and Crosshair knows that; He's just banking on the hope that she'll let him, because she's always done so. He feels safe with Duchess, and even though this feels/looks sexy, Crosshair feels completely vulnerable right now.

Note: I will say it now; Once and for all. I have never subscribed to the idea that Crosshair is a typical Dominant/BDSM/Sadisim kind of guy. And the distinction is all to do with motivation. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he acts the way he does, and how that manifests itself. So when I planned this scene, I wanted to focus on just how strong his desire to have security is. Not prowess, or control. It's all to do with the desperate need he has to prove how he feels about her. That kind of vulnerability just comes easier to him physically than it does emotionally. Duchess gives him a sense of stability -in and out of the sexual sense- that makes his characterization insanely complex and difficult to balance.

The moment he finds his words, it's a compulsory need to cover his own jealousy. Crosshair is undoubtedly unhappy knowing she went out with Regs... but what's really bothering him is how easy it is to feel so strongly for Duchess. Every time he speaks, it's intentionally driving attention towards someone else, and away from his own desire to be the focus of her attention. Cross uses his fear of her being unsafe to mask the jealousy that constantly compares himself to the others who can give her attention more freely than he can personally. Duchess sees his calm nature as patience and precision, but it's really Crosshair planning out what he's going to say because he knows one wrong move will reveal just how desperate he is to have her acceptance of him.

Note: I've never struggled to balance possessiveness and love like I have with Crosshair. He's so intense that if I'm not careful, he comes off like a walking red-flag. Word choice is essential when getting Cross' character and reactions right. Whether it be the way he talks to her, or the way he naturally falls into a protector role. That's why when I'm writing for him, it takes double the time it does to write anything else. Every movement, every word he says, needs to be written like he says it in the moment. That's the only way to show his softness... because the love that he gives is best felt in person. You can't describe Crosshair's love with words easily.

Now for sweet, sweet, Echo.

Let me preface this by saying: Echo is his brother's keeper. There is a relationship there that goes far deeper than the ones Crosshair holds for his other brothers. It happened slowly, but it wasn't until the two of them were too far into it that either recognized what had happened. Their personalities are something that wouldn't really mix on first glance, but for some reason or another, they just get each other. It's natural, and they gravitate towards each other.

That being said, Duchess and Echo are their own kind of dynamic. I see them as the "platonic-soulmate" kind. She has an intensity that Echo marvels at, and Dutch knows she could take any problem to him and he would do anything to help her. They both see something in the other that they wish they still had, or could develop. It's probably the purest friendship Duchess has ever had, and Echo can't help but harken back to Fives when he sees her attitude -in future chapters.

Note: From the first moment I created Duchess, I just knew in my heart she was meant to be something special to Echo. To me, it was only right that Crosshair's doll would feel strongly connected to Echo as well. Add in their common feeling of loss for brothers, and that just made their relationship that much stronger. She's such a force, and the ARC trooper can't help but find a enamorment with people who have such a strong will and fiery personality. (See Fives)

The moment Echo sees Crosshair, he's already preparing to do anything necessary to protect Duchess from incurring another possible hit to her bruised emotions. Echo trusts Crosshair, but he's highly attentive to Cross and how raw his emotions are. Their interaction is based in Echo's desire to save the couple from losing the chance to do things the right way. Intuition and experience guide Echo through the whole conversation; He really is flying by the seat of his blacks here... But he's so well-versed in reading Crosshair that none of the other Batcher's even think about offering to be the first one Crosshair faces when he comes in the bunk hall. Echo has unmatched faith in Cross, and this was something both of them knew would happen.

Note: Writing this scene was challenging for a number of reasons. For one, neither Echo or Crosshair really talk a whole lot. They say what they need to, and that's the end of it. So I spent days watching Echo and Crosshair's interactions. Trying to figure out what I could based off the -very little- examples I was given. In that, I found that the two of them hardly ever stand next to each other, but they're constantly sharing glances and looking at each other. Echo and Crosshair have silent conversations all. the. time.

Had Echo not allowed Crosshair to go and see Duchess, their sexy scene would have never happened. (And I played around with that idea very seriously...) Ultimately, Echo's intuition was the deciding factor. That conversation, and Crosshair's attempt at honesty was the reason Echo felt confident in letting him speak to her. And although Echo could sense Crosshair's patience running thin, he'd already told the rest of the Batch to be prepared for any fight. Echo wouldn't put it past Cross to stun him, but a gut-feeling kept him from mentally preparing to do the same thing.

Additionally, it was Echo who made everyone leave the bunk hall. The second Crosshair and himself reached an agreement, Echo was the first to step away. His next move was to shove the rest of the Batch out the doors and give Duchess and Crosshair the privacy needed to work through their shit. And although he expected it to end in sex, the desire to keep their business between them alone was Echo's main motivation to empty the bunk room. Neither Crosshair or Duchess really trust the Batch at this moment -in Echo's mind at least- and risking their privacy wasn't something the ARC would stand for. In the back of his mind though, Echo was terrified that Crosshair would fuck her and leave it at that. He's seen the sniper at his best and his worst, and although his best is wonderful, his worst can be miserable to endure. Echo was praying that Crosshair wouldn't be too harsh -physically and mentally- on Duchess.

When Hunter finally decided enough time had passed, Echo was on edge to see just where the two of them would be. The image of them sleeping in separate bunks: Crosshair pretending to sleep -like always- and Duchess laying quietly and pretending like nothing happened shook Echo to his core. But the second he saw her bunk in a disarray, and her not in it, Echo couldn't help but fucking grin. He was proud of his brother for doing the right thing. For doing something for himself, and not worrying about how it would make him look for once. Add in the way Crosshair reprimanded Tech, and how deathly serious he looked with her sleeping peacefully against him...?

That was the moment Echo knew for certain that Crosshair was never coming back from this. He saw a visible change in his brother, in the way his attitude changed. The way Crosshair wasn't worried about himself, or attempting to hide behind sneers and sarcastic comments. Echo noticed how attuned he was to her in that moment, putting her comfort above all else. For a man who pretended to not care about anything, Crosshair did a terrible job of hiding his true personality when Duchess was curled up into him. And Echo couldn't be happier, knowing that his trust in Crosshair hadn't been for nothing. Not only was his brother experiencing love in a way that all of them desired, but Duchess was never going to live with the question of whether or not someone truly cared for her.

***

I hope this was what you were looking for in-terms of answers 😅. I had a great time writing this for you, and I hope you'll feel comfortable doing this again whenever you feel like it! I love sharing the behind-the-scenes stuff with you! It makes the cuts and editing feel a little less sad knowing I might be able to share some of it with you anyways!

#uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites #coriolis effect #Crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch #commentary track #saltywintersoldat