#*gets down my little soapbox* I’m fine now

[justmystyles]

Did you see the videos of Harry at the airport in Barcelona (I think?)? I hate people pushing and yelling for his attention ugh. But I got an idea for a fic. Plus size reader happens to be at the airport at the wrong time and gets pushed because of these people,Harry sees that and just goes into protective mode, they get to know each other and fluff at the end? Or his gf getting pushed and falling down and protective Harry

Anyways sorry if all of this doesn't make sense. English isn't my first language 🙈 but I love your style of writing and got this idea and just had to share it with you

The Battle in Barcelona

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: thank you so much for this ask, my friend! it absolutely made sense, and i appreicate you thinking of me to write this.

i absolutely did see the videos. totally heartbreaking. as much as i'll miss him, our boy needs a break, and i'm so happy that he's got that coming up soon. he's so kind and generous to his fans, and i know a lot of us get that and appreciate him for it, but there are also people who just use it as an opportunity to take even more and it just makes me so angry. anyways, i'm going to get off my soapbox and let you read what i came up with now. i hope you like it! 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As your car traveled the streets of Barcelona, your head rested on Harry’s shoulder, your fingers intertwined. You could tell by his soft breaths that he was drifting off to sleep, so you kept silent, just enjoying being next to him. 

Love on Tour would be coming to an end in just over a week, and his multi-year hectic schedule was starting to catch up with him. He was moving a little slower, his eyes puffy and worn from lack of sleep, and he was spending more of his free time in the hotel as opposed to exploring the cities he was visiting. You knew that he had loved every second of the past few years, but he was definitely ready to slow down for a while. 

As you approached the airport, you heard the driver let out a whistle of surprise. You lifted your head to take a look out the front windshield. There was a large crowd of people on the sidewalk waiting for Harry. 

You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand gently and kissing him on the cheek. “Baby, I’m so sorry, time to wake up and turn it on.” 

You brushed a stray curl across his forehead as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled softly at you before taking a look out the window. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Harry loved his fans, and he would take any opportunity to greet them and thank them for their support, but he could already tell that this crowd would be difficult. 

As your car approached, you disconnected your hand from Harry’s and slid to the opposite side of the backseat. He gave you an apologetic smile, you shrugged in reply. Because of Harry’s desire to keep his personal life private, you knew that he would want his distance in front of this many people, you understood and were fine with it. 

You respected Harry’s wishes, but moments like this made it hard, you knew he was tired and that the walk into the airport was going to be a struggle for him, and you wanted nothing more than to be by his side and hold his hand through it. 

“I’ll get out on this side and walk around. I’ll meet you inside.” You tell him. 

He reaches over, brushing his index finger against the back of your hand. “You sure you’ll be alright?” 

“Of course,” you assure him. “I’m a big girl, I can hold my own.” You pat your stomach with a smile. 

“Y/N.” Harry says in a warning tone. He loves your sense of humor, except when you turn it on yourself in a self deprecating manor. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “How about this then? I’ve held my own in my fair share of mosh pits, I can throw them bows with the best of ‘em.” He chuckles softly, a genuine grin growing on his face. “There he is. Now hold onto that for just a couple of minutes, and I’ll see you on the other side.” 

“I love you so much,” he says softly. 

“I love you too, always.” You say with a wink as the car comes to a stop. 

Before security can get Harry’s door open, you slip out the other side. You walk around the back of the car and watch as his door opens. He is immediately swarmed by people yelling and shoving photos and markers in his face. His security and the local police are doing their best to push them off, but they are relentless. Even Harry is pleading with them to back away, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Despite the rush of the crowd, Harry still takes the time to greet a fan in a wheelchair, signing an album for him and chatting for a brief moment. As you watch on, your worry morphs into awe of this amazing, selfless man. 

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t realize that one of the officers assigned to crowd control has corralled you into the crowd of onlookers. As Harry finishes with the fan and pushes through the rest of the people, you snap back to the present and begin moving through the crowd yourself. 

As you reach the end of the mob, you’re held back by one of the officers. “No, I’m with them.” You insist, stepping forward only to be shoved back a little harder than needed, with a stern ‘no’ from the officer. 

You watch as Harry turns the corner, your mind racing. You know they won’t leave without you, Harry will notice you’re not there and send security, or someone else from the entourage to retrieve you. But the worry starts to sink in as you find yourself being engulfed back into the masses. 

You fight your way back to the front of the crowd, stopped in front of the same officer that stopped you before. You keep your eyes locked on the corner Harry had turned. Before long, you see him rushing back out of the airport, his eyes moving frantically, no doubt trying to find you. 

“Harry!” You shout, hoping to catch his attention as your voice gets drowned out by the cries and yells from everyone else. 

His eyes lock on yours, his expression panicked as he rushes back toward the crowd. As the fans and autograph-seekers reach for him, he grabs the officer holding you back on the shoulder tugging roughly. “She’s with me,” he shouts aggressively, grabbing your hand and rushing back into the airport. 

He’s practically running, his hand gripping yours tighter than he ever had, afraid of losing you again. As soon as you both turn the corner, and find yourselves away from prying eyes, Harry stops and turns, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you into him, kissing the top of your head. “I’m so sorry, angel. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine Harry, promise.” You assure him, rubbing his back softly. “You didn’t have to come back for me, you could have just sent one of the guys.” 

“Absolutely not.” He said in a clipped tone. “You’re my girl, it is my job to protect you and keep you safe. I’ve already failed at that once tonight.” You heard his voice waiver, followed by a barely audible sniffle. He was definitely crying.

You pulled away, looking up at his misty eyes just as a single tear broke free and rolled down his cheek. “Harry,” you said softly, placing your hands on his cheeks, wiping away the rogue drop with your thumb. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

He places his hands over yours, which are still rested on his face. He pulls them off and brings them to his lips. You see a swarm of emotions in his eyes; sad, tired, apologetic. Your heart is breaking for him. 

“Come here,” you lead him over to a nearby seating area, guiding him down into a chair. “Talk to me Harry, what’s going on.” 

He stays silent for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. He lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “If something had happened to you out there, it would have been my fault.” 

“Hey,” you furrow your brow. “First of all, nothing happened to me, so there’s no point in sitting here worrying about it, especially with everything you’ve got going on. Second of all, it one hundred percent would not have been your fault.” 

“It’s just…” Harry pauses. “I appreciate my fans, I do…”

“Harry,” you stop him. “Those weren’t your fans. Sure, there were a couple of them there, but they were easy to spot because they were being respectful of you and your space. The rest of them were just paps and autograph sellers. They were there to make money, they didn’t give a shit about you, they were on the clock.”  

Harry nods in understanding. His tormented gaze slowly begins to soften. “How are you so good at this?” You give him a questioning look. “I brought you into all of this, the crazy mobs, the gossip, everything, and you haven’t let it get to you at all.”

“Because I love you,” you shrugged. “If that’s the stuff I have to put up with to be with you, then I’ll put up with it with a smile on my face, because the reward of getting to be by your side is worth it.” 

Harry surged forward, crashing his lips against yours, unable to express in words just how much your words mean to him. He pulls away, cupping your cheek tenderly. “I can’t wait until next week. I won’t have to worry about shows, you and I are going to disappear from the world, and I’m going to be able to thank you properly for being the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“By sleeping for a week straight?” You arch a brow. “Because that’s what you’re going to need more than anything.” 

“As long as you’re sleeping next to me.”

“No place I’d rather be.” You smirk.

He pulls you in for another kiss, this one cut short when you hear them call Harry to board the plane. He stands first, offering his hand to you. You take it happily and he leads you out to the tarmac. 

You and Harry settle in side by side. You let out a small laugh as you wait for the plane to take off. 

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks you. 

“Nothing,” you chuckle again. “I was just thinking, I survived the great Break Stuff wall of death of 2017, but almost got taken out by a couple of Harry Styles groupies. I think being with you is making me go soft.” 

“Funny,” he huffs a laugh. “You have quite the opposite effect on me.” He looks at you with an arched brow and a smug smirk. You slap his chest playfully, your face going bright red at his comment. 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blur #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles fic

[southstand]

Rahul what are our top priorities this transfer window? Players out as well as players in? 🎤

sooooo sorry for getting around to this ask so late laura but this is an excellent question and it’s time for me to get on my metaphorical soapbox!

so we’ve been quite quick and ruthless with outgoings so far which i’m taking as a good sign because one of levy’s greatest weaknesses is hanging onto players for too long in order to find a club that matches our original price/valuation for them. this can also be a strength and certainly is one of the reasons we upgraded from being stuck in that ‘selling club’ category but sometimes we’ve just got to cut our losses and move on.

as for players still here that i think are going or have to go: gil, emerson, regui, spence, ndombele, possibly gio and hoj. the first four i think are as good as gone—sorry to all the bryan lovers but unfortunately he just hasn’t found the heights with us that we wanted; eme is the goat and i actually wouldn’t mind him staying with us for the pure vibes and to keep us firmly winning the no look pass league; regui it’s over sorry; spence was another who never quite reached that level with us for various reasons. ndombele… yeah we need to just run his contract down and cut our losses. that one stings because on his day he’s an unplayable footballer but he just never really wants to be on his day.

as for gio and hoj… torn on these two. i wouldn’t mind keeping gio around in the sense that i wouldn’t necessarily be disappointed if he wasn’t sold this summer but unfortunately he’s made of swiss cheese. he’s a great player and frequently shows up for argentina and has also looked bright for us in his few apps this season but he’s just not consistent enough. i’d rather have someone like bergvall take over his role (potentially, he might play deeper) or scout another player to be a maddison understudy so that we can provide him some proper competition. as for hojbjerg… he is a good player. he’s very professional and he has the quality to hit a pass from deep that’s lacking in the squad but this system is just not for him i think. he’s exposed in his role and i don’t think he deals with it well.

as for incomings, well. for me order of business would be at least one more reinforcement in attack, be it at striker or on the wing; a 6 for the midfield despite the lack of proper realistic options on the market right now and fb depth/competition. would be very nice to have a lcb backup too. i think people are exaggerating a little with our striker need or options, a lot of the players we’ve linked to imo are not better than richy. the priority on that would be more depth in case of injuries. a 6 to compete and rotate with biss (who was honestly imo fine in our last few games) would be veeeery nice especially if said 6 can hit a long pass and switch the game up a bit. and fb depth is very much needed! especially at rb since we’ve seen micky can play lb well in a pinch. but our 2 fullbacks are pretty young and it would be healthy for them to deal with competition in order to not grow complacent.

as for specific players, honestly i’m not necessarily picky. i have miles more faith in our scouting system now than i did a few windows back so i know that even if we don’t get our number one target, we’ll have a couple more lined up behind the scenes that will turn out to be excellent (vic over raya, micky over tapsoba, etc.). i have to say so far our striker links don’t necessarily excite me but that’s just because i don’t think there’s a realistic 9 in the market we could go for who’s better than richy as said! also we have veliz too. probably our number one problem is that we need more homegrown players because of uefa rules, it’ll be interesting to see how we circumvent that. a lot of incoming players are either younger than the registration age or are homegrown in some comps i think (e.g. pape)? i’ll talk more on specific players i think would be good for us post euros once we start getting some solid links!! but those 3 areas are places we need to reinforce in if we want to be competitive this year imo 🤍

(bonus thought: send the youngsters out on loan! the ones who are ready are jamie donley, alfie dorrington, will lankshear, and perhaps even tyrese hall. will needs to learn to adapt in leagues where his physicality isn’t better than the centrebacks defending him. jamie’s too good for pl2 level and needs a championship loan to start properly playing men’s football. alfie is just coming back from injury so we might wait on him but again he keeps that back line composed and is very romero-like in the way he dictates play imo, would be interesting to see him do it a couple levels higher. tyrese just progressed to starting for the u21s regularly so maybe we wait a half year before sending him out on loan? imo he has proper potential to play the biss role in the midfield and he gets involved in attacking play a lot more too. would rly wish for us to prioritise academy development in this window too considering we have a proper crop of talent!)

#as for current links i like eze; bit torn on gallagher #hiroki ito is a new one that’s popped up that i quite like i feel he’d be a good understudy to micky #we’ve got good bones as a squad; we just can’t let the poch golden era thing happen again where we don’t have quality off the bench #rahul answers #steeple-sinderby

[bcofl0ve]

I continued following Linds through the drama, not because I agree that Kaia and Austin are fake (I think they are very much in a real happy relationship) but because she had a point when she said after the Celine event last year Kaia was suddenly shoved down our throats by majority of Austin fans and even if you choose to avoid posting photos of them or cropping her out, most shippers will tend to jump on you for doing so when you don’t mean it in a malicious way. I’m here for Austin, not his relationship whether it’s with Kaia or anyone else and I just don’t care for seeing her/them. That said I had to unfollow because she has began to have a vicious attitude towards you and other people on your group. I have never seen you or your anons calling her “bitch” or any of the other insults she lets be publicized on her blog. I commend you for not stooping to her level. It’s bullying and it’s disgusting and I just wanted to come here and say I hope you do not let it get to you and continue to be who you are. I can be someone who doesn’t want to be shown Kaia but still send you well wishes and not attack you or anyone else, like I hope I won’t be attacked for having my choices/opinions on not interacting with his relationship.

thank you. you do you, and hey objectively i don’t disagree that people as a whole seemed to come around to kaia a lot more in december. as someone who was kinda in the minority like, late oct-december of really liking her i was *thrilled* bc it think it was a net positive fans of austin came around to liking his girlfriend as opposed to well, not liking her. though i don’t think it was the celine show, ppl very much bitched about that LOL i remember it. i think it was the cabo trip, though that it dec 30th when those photos dropped so who knows.

and like- atp i am very much a fan of kaia on her own. i went to see bottoms for kaia gerber kaia gerber, not austin’s girlfriend kaia. i watch book club for *her*, i became interested in the fashion industry because of *her*. and it’s totally fine that not everyone is me! i have dear fandom buddies who are moreso in your boat and we get along just fine bc we simply talk about other things 99% of the time. contrary to the belief of some, it is possible to disagree with folks without completely hating their guts and turning your blog into a gossip blog for them.

and i *do* get very harsh anons about other people in the fandom sometimes. but even if they’re about ppl i dislike i don’t post them. you have a *choice* to post or not post anons. it’s unfortunate when people choose to enable their followers being viscous and mean because they’re incapable of hitting the little delete button.

i’ll get off my soapbox now LOL. but genuinely- thank you. this message made me smile and esp after last night i think i needed it 😅

#gossip time with mollie

[strangestcase]

Im going to be honest I do clown a lot on the glass scientists for making jekyll and hyde twinks and whatnot but as someone who used to really like this comic ummm what’s up with all the (gestures vaguely towards Hyde) ableism involved here.

you as a singlet can’t slap DID/OSDD symptoms into Mr. Hyde (a character that has historically AND FAMOUSLY been used as THE evil alter trope, even if he wasn’t written as such originally) and call it a day, no matter how accurate or respectful you are. Specially if you’re somewhat accurate, showing you either know what you’re doing or you know shit and it’s all a ”happy coincidence”. It’s contributing to the stereotype of DID alters -particularly protectors and persecutors- being violent evil monsters… precisely because Mr. Hyde IS a monster. even if you portray him as being in the side of good and just hurting Jekyll since he “embodies his self hatred”. Which is you know. Kind of portraying him as a persecutor? (Not to mention he LITERALLY GOES TO HEADSPACE, navigates Jekyll’s memories as if they werent his, despite the narration implying the “”””split”””” happened with the experiment, and encounters a character that is coded to be a persecutor as well… and they spend the first six chapters or so in CO-CON)

that’s just the first seven chapters btw, I think very recently (I don’t read it anymore) Hyde “fronted” without transforming. Literally possessing Jekyll.

like Jesus Christ.

It would be just as harmful was grabbing, idk, a werewolf, making the wolf form a DID/OSDD alter in all but name, fixing up some of the narration to whip out the “it’s just dissociative depersonalization” excuse and calling it a day. That’s exactly what TGS does. Dumb example I know but doing that shit to a werewolf would be bad because even if the wolf is good, you’re likening symptoms of a trauma disorder that causes shifting to being a literal shapeshifting monster which, unless you’re plural yourself and reclaiming such a stereotype, is… questionable at best.

now you’re applying that same ^ method to one of the horror character systems get most compared to and ummmm. (:

so yeah, long story short, don’t portray Hyde as the evil alter trope (for the twentieth time…) because it is harmful.

I’m a singlet so I know I am missing stuff here- if any plurals want to say anything about this matter they’re very much welcome to! I’m just voicing my opinion that going “what if the evil character systems get constantly compared to as an excuse to justify being ableist, was, indeed a system?” is not only taking away the most interesting elements of the character but also perpetuating a rather dangerous vision of systemhood, and unless you’re reclaiming it OR being EXTREMELY TACTFUL and normal about it (which TGS. Doesn’t do, since Hyde 1) is a classic monster of early science fiction 2) does so much weird glittery mind bullshit in that comic he could be replaced with a fantasy demon at this point and the plot would remain the same) you just… Shouldnt try.

And again: he’s not even a system in the original book. I do see a lot of other J&H fans clown too on how unoriginal or boring or too-conventionally attractive or too similar to Jekyll Hyde’s design is but very few do actually go ”hey, he’s literally getting written as a fantasy flavored magical evil split personality…”

okay now for the petty cherry on top: that adaptation set back the reading comprehension of the fandom like 1000000 years and if I ever have to read another fucking “split personality” joke about Jekyll and Hyde I’m straight up snapping

#doc talks #jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #tgs critical #gothic fiction #gothic literature #long post #ableism #*gets down my little soapbox* I’m fine now

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

#bnha 325 #midoriya izuku #u.a. clown mob #class 1-a #aizawa shouta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

[leiawritesstories]

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

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

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair. 

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job. 

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth. 

As if she knew anything her staff actually did. 

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together. 

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation. 

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself. 

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order. 

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English. 

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

~

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple. 

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved. 

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure. 

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved. 

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve. 

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind. 

“You broke both of your hearts” 

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart. 

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

~

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice. 

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds. 

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city. 

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner. 

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed. 

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction. 

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth. 

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love.  We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. 

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages. 

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan. 

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof. 

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech. 

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying. 

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan. 

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow. 

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything. 

She was worthy of him. 

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified. 

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

~

Present day. 

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked. 

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch. 

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.” 

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

~

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

~

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

[qqueenofhades]

pel!ivan and fedyor went through a lot of ups and some downs from the end of pel and 2021 but they also celebrated 10 years together 🥳 i hope fedyor shoved cake into ivan’s face and also you know, im sure they were mushy like the saps they are

Ivan was supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago – actually, at this point, more like twenty – but the clients are still fucking talking, and if they keep it up much longer, he’s going to add it to the bill for “initial consultation.” Drew has a man-bun and unbearably hip black glasses, and works as a developer for some start-up app that he’s tried to convince Ivan to download at least twelve times. (What does the app actually do? Don’t know don’t care.) Mia is thin, blonde, waifish, smells like essential oils, and has been flitting around with her smartphone the entire time, getting in Ivan’s way as she snaps perfectly filtered pictures of the “developmental process” and posts them nonstop on Instagram. They both have a lot of opinions on how they want the energy of the space to feel, and a preapproved list of ethically sourced suppliers. They have paid some ludicrous price for this converted loft in Prospect Heights and chose the location for its proximity to the best farmer’s markets and hippie coffeehouses. Did Ivan die? Is this hell?

Somewhat ostentatiously, he looks at his watch. “Okay,” he announces. “I think that wraps up. You have work number, so – ”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Drew has recently read one (1) book on home design and thinks he’s an expert, so Ivan is forced to suffer his idiotic opinions about the kind of tile they want to use on the kitchen backsplash. Somehow, he manages not to roll his eyes directly out of his head, for which he should be commended. Ivan has discovered that the secret of successfully dealing with people, especially clients, is to smile and nod at everything they say, while mercilessly mocking them in your head. Amazing, the things you learn as a small-business owner in Brooklyn in the year of our lord 2021. Especially when it comes to renovating overpriced tiny gentrified apartments for insufferable techno-douchebags and their vapid influencer girlfriends. And people think Ivan might want to live like this more often? No fucking thank you.

Finally (it’s another ten minutes after that, this is definitely going on the bill), they more or less wrap up, except for the fact that Mia then wants a picture with the three of them. “It’s just so important to us that we’re supporting the immigrant community,” she explains earnestly. “After all, being open, tolerant, learning from our neighbors, people who are different from us, that’s what life is all about. We just love that you’re foreign. The energy feels so right, you know?”

Ivan wonders whether to inform her that he has lived in this country for eight years and been a full citizen (passport and voting rights and everything) for three, then decides that this would venture into sharing-personal-information territory and he is having none of it. His English has improved to the point where he can handle almost all business transactions by himself, but feigning incomprehension can sometimes get him out of them when they turn really stupid. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option here, and so he diligently leans into the frame, smiling half an inch, while Mia snaps a picture of “us and our adorable Russian contractor!!” Ivan informs her of the correct flag emoji to add to the filter, decides that he’s going to add an extra fifty bucks just for that, and finally, finally, makes his escape.

It’s rush hour, and the Q is crammed as Ivan heads into midtown. So much for social distancing and not getting too close to anyone, which is the only thing from the pandemic that he wouldn’t mind keeping. Only about half the crowd is wearing masks, including him, and so he gets off at Times Square, dodges the latest lunatic standing on a soapbox and shouting about how it is all a hoax, and walks several blocks uptown, just to get some space. He finally reaches the restaurant, where he has to flash his vaccination card to get inside (Ivan, who remains Russian to the marrow of his bones, is a little irked that he couldn’t get Sputnik here and had to settle for Pfizer) and climbs up to the open-air rooftop terrace. It is only when he spots his husband, waiting at a table that overlooks the glittering evening lights of the city, when Ivan pulls off his mask and allows himself to properly smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “They are the worst.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Fedyor musters a smile in return, though his eyes look permanently tired these days and Ivan would bet that he’s been scrolling through more depressing emails on his phone. Technically Fedyor is on a two-month sabbatical from work, but he can’t stop himself, and Ivan has had to pry it from his fingers on a number of occasions. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Ivan nods stoutly, they are furnished with the drinks and appetizers list, and when the waiter asks if there’s any special occasion tonight, tell him that they are celebrating their ten-year anniversary, albeit somewhat late. This was supposed to happen last spring, but obviously, nobody in New York was going out to a restaurant in the early months of 2020, and Ivan himself had barely gotten home from the hospital and still could be knocked over in a strong breeze. They’re celebrating a lot of things tonight, in other words, even if it’s now been eleven years, not ten, since the day Ivan marched into a Red Square coffee shop and engaged in – well, Fedyor has made sure to inform him that the first date didn’t go nearly as well as Ivan always thought it did. But it worked, didn’t it? Here they are, wedding bands on their fingers, a couple of successful American urban professionals who have built a nice life for themselves and are, if anything, even more madly in love than they were when this whole nutty adventure together first began. So really, if you ask Ivan Sakharov Kaminsky, it went just fine after all.

The waiter congratulates them, gives them two drinks for the price of one, and they both relax and start to talk, fully at ease in the way they only are in each other’s company. Ivan does his Mia impression in an extremely convincing falsetto (after all, [NAME REDACTED] has practice at this) and Fedyor almost dies laughing. They hold hands on the table – no need to hold them under the table – and gaze into each other’s eyes all they want, order dinner and dessert, and take a long time about it. They raise several toasts to this, to them, to ten years, may there be many more. Ivan pays the bill, his treat, and they walk slowly back to Times Square, hand-in-hand, Fedyor’s head nestled on Ivan’s shoulder. It’s New York. Nobody cares.

They ride the Q home, in all its smelly, secondhand glory, taking an hour to bang out to Brighton Beach and descending the elevated stairs into the familiar down-at-heel comfort of their Russian-American neighborhood, neon Cyrillic signs glowing in windows and somebody shouting about how if Sergei ever shows his face here again, she is going to cut his dick off. Ivan and Fedyor look at each other and snort, resisting the urge to shout up and ask what exactly Sergei did, and walk a few more minutes to their building. They climb up three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlock the door and the deadbolt, and step inside.

The instant they are home, Rasputin shoots out of nowhere, yowling as if he has been neglected for months, and curls himself around Ivan’s ankles (he is still liable to give Fedyor evil looks when he feels that this interloper has been stealing his human too often). Ivan sighs, trudges to the kitchen, points out to Rasputin that his food bowl is still half full, gets a wounded look in return, and adds an extra scoopful. Once the cat is happily snarfing down, Fedyor pulls Ivan by the hand, into the dim living room with its blowing curtains. “Come here, my love,” he says. “Hold me.”

Ivan does as ordered, because it’s his favorite thing in the world: cuddling Fedyor close, nothing but the two of them in all of time and space, swaying slowly in the blue hour with fingers and arms and hearts entwined. Ivan kisses Fedyor’s temple, and Fedyor nestles even closer, melted into his embrace. “I love you, Vanya,” he mumbles against Ivan’s collarbone. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Fedya.” Ivan leans down and kisses him properly, sweet and slow and lingering, as they continue to waltz in stately time to a music that nobody except the two of them can hear. “I’m still not always sure why you married me, but I am very glad you did.”

#heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #ivan x fedyor #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #(in repayment for the pain i have inflicted on you with the lighthouse au) #(ahem)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

People complaining about 'queer baiting' when they ought to be more concerned about the amount of fetishisation that occurs when people ship two men lol

Hey Nonny,

I’m gonna assume you’re not trying to be a dick, and are coming from a good place, though you taking the time out to put this ask in a weird serif font is leaving me wondering if you’re trying to stand on a soapbox, but I’m going to ignore that for now, and I ask anyone replying to this post to please also grant that same respect. I only wish to educate, learn, and interact, after all. 

I get what you’re trying to say re: queerbaiting, I really do. And fetishization is a problem, I agree. 

Let’s tackle the queerbaiting first.

Let it be known to you that a large majority of the people calling “queerbaiting” are queer people and academics. I know the false stigma that “fandom is full of stupid little girls” still exists and is something that, quite frankly, this ask is implying and therefore helping to perpetuate. It’s not. Honestly, with this take you have here, you’re disregarding and invalidating the feelings of millions of other queer people who genuinely feel when something is queerbaiting because it’s something they have experienced over and over and OVER again and media just “LOL OOPS SORRY WON’T DO IT AGAIN”. 

Disney is a perfect example of this. How many “first LGBT characters” has Disney had now? At least one a year for the past decade.

Listen, the people who initially called it out years ago for Sherlock were older folks who have lived decades of media constantly teasing gay relationships and then not following through with it at the end... literally “baiting” queer people to watch their shows because more people = more money.

Anyway, Gattiss confirmed he used homoerotic subtext to bait people, so I don’t know what else to say on this matter. That link also has some additional articles and sources that came out regarding the queerbaiting aspect of Sherlock, and they’re all good reads, so I do recommend checking them out.

Some other interesting reads, if only so you can gain some empathy for the others who DO see it as queerbaiting:

Gender and Queer Fan Labour on Tumblr: The Case of BBC’s Sherlock (Webarchive link, so give it a few to load)

The Elephant in the Room: Authorship, Queerbaiting and Sherlock

Queerbaiting in Sherlock 

PODCAST: Queerbaiting in Sherlock

From Queer Reading to Queerbaiting - DiVA Portal

And as I’ve mentioned in past posts, I personally believe Sherlock IS queerrbaiting WITHOUT a confirmation in S5. They had the chance to stop it in S3, and instead they ramped it up. And yes, if you only watch Sherlock and omit S3 and TAB completely, I can see the queerbaiting argument null and void. But instead they made the episode that John was supposed to be getting married the gayest episode in the whole series, next to TAB. So I dunno, my friend.

Now, I shall discuss the very thin line of fetishization vs shipping.

I am not a professional AND I am a fairly recently-realized member of the LGBT community, so I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you what’s what. 

There’s a really interesting Tumblr post by LGBT+ Weekly about this very thing that I think offers a “both sides” approach: Shipping and queer fetishization. And this interesting and on-point post here: About Fandom, Slash, and Fetishizing Gay Men.

From here, I can only offer my opinion, not fact, and I am open to being educated. 

Yes, absolutely some people fetishize LGBT relationships. I’m NOT going to say there aren’t. But a majority of people ship ANY ship because it helps them understand themselves. It’s just that simple, and to tell someone that them shipping characters is bad / no good / fetishization can be harmful to them and make them fear “being gay”. Shipping characters is a way of disconnecting themselves from, well, themselves, and it’s a “safe place” to “come out” or discover themselves.

To me, you’re breaking down fetishization as “I like reading about two people fucking” and nothing beyond that, and not taking into account that many people like a pairing because of chemistry, or because someone sees themselves in a character and are exploring their own sexuality through it. If that’s the case, then I guess all M/F ships are are fetishizations? Why is it only M/M that people decry “fetishization”, when F/F is apparently not (clarification: it totally can also be)? So, is me liking Johnlock any different than my Zutara ship? Why? 

Plus, the reason so many people ship M/M ships is because there’s just SO MANY MALE CHARACTERS ON ANY GIVEN SHOW. 

I get what you’re trying to say, Nonny, I really do. And I know the definition of fetish. But AGAIN, these are characters, not real people, and you’re disregarding other aspects of shipping. Not everyone reads smut to get off. And even if they did, why is that so bad for some people? Personally, I read it because I enjoy reading stories about my favourite characters enjoying being together. I enjoy the dynamic, the possibilities, the chemistry and the love. That it’s never too late to find your person. That two broken souls can help heal each other.

Anyway, TL;DR of all this is: 

YOUR experience is NOT someone else’s experience. 

You didn’t see Sherlock as queerbaiting? Fine, but please understand there’s a reason so many other people DO and it’s not just fandom saying it. The general audience also has said it’s queerbaiting.

You see shipping as fetishization? Okay, and that’s fine. Your definition of fetishization means fictional people having sex, I guess. Maybe I’m just genuinely naïve, but... isn’t that kind of... TERF-y or homophobic? I mean... many people use same-sex shipping and assorted headcanons to help them understand themselves and their sexuality. And why is M/F shipping NOT fetishization, given the broad definition you’re implying by your ask? And I don’t want to get too deep into asexuality, but read up on aegosexuality. Are you then saying aces are fetishists too? Seems like aces can’t enjoy anything, I guess.

They’re fictional characters. Not real people.

Look, I’m stupid and naïve, I get that. And if I have the wrong take here, I’m genuinely interested in hearing your respectful thoughts, along with other people’s. Just, please respect and understand that everyone is not YOU. It’s rather selfish to think that your experiences are everyone else’s, if I’m being honest.

I’m not asking for you to “see my side of things”, just to have a bit of empathy, is all. It can go a long way in a world where just being who you are can get you killed. Fandom and shipping is an escape for a lot of people, because reality is a cruel son of a bitch.

All this said, Nonny, I just want you to be safe and healthy. If discussions of shipping and queerbaiting bother you, please black list the tags, get out of fandom, and please take care of yourself.

#steph replies #queerbaiting #queerbaiting vs fetishization #chatting with nonnies #my thoughts #Anonymous #help steph learn things #sexuality

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol. 

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them. 

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period. 

And it was time that John B accepted that, too. 

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed. 

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained. 

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst. 

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels. 

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys. 

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks. 

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it. 

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?” 

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly. 

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned. 

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!” 

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.” 

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves. 

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board. 

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed. 

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering. 

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini. 

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed. 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water. 

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water. 

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed. 

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five. 

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

Masterlist

#outer banks #pogue #netflix #outer banks fanfiction #john b x reader #john b x sister!reader #john b x twin!sister reader #john b x twin!reader #john b routledge #john b #jj maybank #kiara x reader #kiara carrera #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #fanfiction #please don't flop because this is my baby #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #obx rewrite #outer banks rewrite #obx series

[pantherxrogers]

Like a Pillow - Fezco x Reader (18+ ONLY)

TW: Sexual content, dirty talk, mention of masturbation, dry humping

Summary: Reader is a virgin, but she still wants to feel good. Two words: dry humping. 

A/N: Sooooo, I decided to take another stab at writing smut. I kinda had some fun with this one because it took a different direction than I originally planned on. I’m pretty satisfied with the way this turned out. ALSO, I will write a Part 3 for Don’t Worry About Me, but I don't know where to take it right now. In the meantime, enjoy this piece! Please comment/reblog/like/SEND REQUESTS! 

MY SOAPBOX: If you’re sexually active, BE SAFE! Make smart decisions and take care of yourself. If you aren’t, do you! Never let anyone pressure you into anything that you aren’t comfortable with. It’s your body, and you need to protect it. If you’re choosing to wait, WAIT! It’s okay to put yourself first.

Feeling you pull away from the heated kiss, Fezco stared at you in admiration. Your soft curls framed your face, lipgloss shimmered against your full lips, and brown skin glowed underneath the warm lighting of your bedroom. He thought you were breathtakingly beautiful. Breaking out of the trance, he noticed a tremble in your lip.

“You good, baby girl?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask you about something.” 

He could just barely make out a faint tint of red beneath the brown of your cheeks. 

“Remember that talk we had last week about doing something but not going all the way?”

He swallowed and felt his pants grow tighter. Nodding his head, he was fearful of what his voice might sound like if he answered you.

“Well, I was thinking and I kind of want to try something tonight,” Nerves getting the best of you, the words rushed out of your mouth. 

“Anything ya want, ya got it,” He leaned back against your headboard, sweeping his eyes over your body. 

The suggestiveness of his words made your heart race. But, they comforted you. You were happy to be with someone who was so respectful of your boundaries.

 At 19, you knew you lacked experience, but Fezco never made you feel bad about it. He supported and respected your decision to wait. This gave you confidence.

“Well, normally when I’m in the mood, I use my pillow to help me out. So, I was thinking we could just, ya know...” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t make you finish the sentence. It sounded so high school. 

“Ya gotta tell me what ya want, mamas,” he answered you with a smirk. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you started to feel small underneath his gaze. Even if you couldn’t admit it to yourself right now, his confidence was a turn-on. 

He leaned into your ear, and you felt his beard graze against your skin. His voice dropped to a whisper. 

“What happened? You was just teasing me telling me how you make yourself cum and now you all silent,” he nibbled on your lobe and continued.

“How ‘bout you try rubbing against me like your pillow, hmm?” he placed kisses down your neck and waited for your answer.

He almost laughed at how quickly you nodded your head.

“Use ya’ words, baby,” he hummed against your soft skin.

“Yes, Fez, please baby. Stop teasing me,” you let out a moan as you leaned into his affection. He eased his tongue into your mouth and felt your heartbeat pick up.

His hands drifted down to grab your butt through the thin pajama pants you had worn. Since the early days in your relationship, he realized that this turned you on. He always loved the little whine you let out.

He continued placing kisses down your neck and heard you let out an airy moan right into his ear. The sound made his pants significantly tighter.

He pulled your body onto his lap, so you’d be straddling him. He continued kissing you, when he felt you roughly grind down on his manhood. He tilted his head back and reveled in the feeling. 

He was so used to finishing himself off in the bathroom after your make out sessions, that his body reacted quickly.

“It’s alright if I take your pants off?” He looked you in your eyes and waited for an answer. You nodded quickly and kept grinding down onto him. It was a new sensation, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hol’ on, baby. I gotta get your pants off. It’ll feel real good after that, I promise.” He chuckled as he heard you whine when he stopped your movements to help you with your pants. 

He took off his own pants, too. He noticed the smile on your face as you looked down at his lap. Through the thin material of his boxers, you could see the outline of his hard member.

Feeling bold, you sat right on top of it, prompting you to let out a loud moan that Fezco had heard before. He grabbed your hips and roughly ground his hips against your own. He could feel your warmth through the black lace panties. He was hard.

You started to suckle on his neck and left a small hickey. You ran your tongue over it, leaving behind a soft kiss. He groaned and pride swelled in your chest. The sound made you even wetter, and you were sure that Fezco could feel it through both of your undergarments. 

“Mmm, does that feel good, baby?” you whispered into your boyfriend’s ear.

He quickly nodded his head, and you took a mental picture of the pleasure-filled look on his face. 

“I bet it does. You’re so hard right now, it’s going to make me cum soon.”

Fezco let out a heavy breath at your words. He didn’t think you would be one for dirty talk, so this side of you was a pleasant surprise. Two could play at that game. 

“I bet I am. Ya’ dripping through them panties, baby,” his words made you grind down harder, feeling a familiar coil in your stomach. 

Fezco firmly grabbed your hips and roughly grinded against you. Your head tilted back as you chased your orgasm.

“Ya’ getting close, baby. C’mon let go for me.” Your whines were out of control now. You brought your hands up to toy with your nipples through your thin tank top. 

Fezco angled his hips upwards to simulate your bundle of nerves. 

“I’m going to cum!” you wailed out as the sensation became too much. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, and Fezco continued guiding your hips to help you ride it out.

Whimpering as you came down from your high, you nestled your head into Fezco’s neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

A lazy smile spread across your face, enjoying the glow of your orgasm. 

The hands softly caressing your back pulled you out of your trance. You lifted your head, so your lips were next to your boyfriend’s ear.

“How about I help you finish, baby?” you whispered as you toyed with the waistband of his boxers.

Fezco was defiintely ready for more of your surprises.

#fezco euphoria #fezco x reader #fezco fanfic #fezco smut #fezco imagine #euphoria fanfic #euphoria imagine #Black Girl Reader #fez imagine #fez one shot #fez fanfic #𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics

[musings-from-mars]

part 4 por favor? Maybe Ruby starts noticing the "tension" between Cinder and Blake and starts setting them up?

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 4

They arrived at the outdoor gallery, and Ruby was already zipping around here and there, thinking out loud about angles and framing, all while gushing about the art on display, choosing her favorites. “This is so cool!” She said to Blake and Cinder.

“It’s a lovely installation,” Cinder agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up. “Don’t you think so, Blake?”

It was a pretty magnificent showcase. Crude marble pillars of varying heights and widths stood in a seemingly random arrangement, each with art pieces hung on the sides. The pieces of 3D art stood in spaces between pillars. While there were two equally tall pillars that served as the “entrance” to the exhibition, it was open air and seemingly boundless, as the pillars became fewer and farther between the further from the center you moved.

At the very center of the gallery was a massive metal sculpture of what looked like a suit of armor, but it was matte black, and the plates of armor were spaced out from one another so it was easy to see right through the gaps. It stood on a concrete cube labeled “SOAPBOX” with “various artists” engraved underneath. The artists were making a point, and Blake’s mind raced trying to decipher what it might be.

But then Ruby started talking to Cinder, and that broke Blake’s focus immediately.

“The suit is faceless, and the armor having such obvious gaps indicates that the suit is vulnerable,” Cinder explained to Ruby as she looked up at the sculpture, which Ruby craning her neck to do the same. “Yet it stands on a soapbox, elevated and arrogant, despite the flaws in its defenses. I think it makes a point about the illusions of authority and strength of those in power, and the general populace’s compliance despite the obvious flaws that everyone can see if they look close enough.”

“Woah, that’s so cool…” Ruby murmured with wonder.

Blake didn’t want to feel as annoyed as she did, because Cinder’s take on it was pretty much exactly how Blake viewed the piece, but dammit, she wanted to impress Ruby too! She tried to come up with something original to say, but she didn’t want to sound desperate. Cinder was too smooth and eloquent.

“I imagine it took a long time to fashion the metal and assemble it, probably took several weeks, even for a team of artists,” Cinder pondered.

“If you were to get into contact with the artists, you might know for sure,” Blake remarked, not intending to sound so combative, but it was said. “There’s more to this than what the viewer can interpret. Anyone can come around here and write an article about what they think it all means in a day, but we’re putting together something bigger. We need testimonies from the artists, opinions of other creatives…”

Cinder had turned from the sculpture and was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here? You’re the networking specialist, after all.”

“It’s your project too, you know,” Blake said, stepping closer to her, then sort of regretting doing that now that she was close enough to smell her perfume. “I’m not doing all the interviews while you sit back and write down your opinions. You’ve got to pull your weight.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of weight. I haven’t even shown you the drafts I have yet,” Cinder countered, and for some reason thought it appropriate to smile at Blake. She looked down her nose a bit at her, making Blake resent Cinder’s slight height advantage. “After all, isn’t it only fair that I handle the majority of the writing, you acquire the testimonies, and Ruby handles the accompanying media? Let’s all do what we’re good at here, huh?”

Blake hated it when she made a good point. She wanted to counter-argue but she knew that would be counterproductive. “So I’m going have to handle all of the interviews? That will take up so much of my work time, you really will be on the hook for pretty much all of the writing.”

“Like I said, it’s what we’re good at,” Cinder repeated and shrugged. She leaned her weight on one leg in that sexy way that kind of pissed Blake off. “You think so, Ruby?”

Ruby had been silent the whole time, pressing her lips together as she stood by during the intense exchange. When she heard her name spoken, she snapped out of it a bit and blinked. “Oh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Uhm, Robyn wanted us to allocate, right?”

“Right,” Cinder agreed and nodded. “That was easy, we’ve already allocated. Wonderful job, team.”

If Blake gritted her teeth any harder she’d have to book a dentist appointment. Thankfully, Cinder took that moment to turn away from her and walk over to one of the gallery’s pillars, swaying her hips like an annoying exotic bird.

I hate you I hate you I haaaaate you—

“Ruby, I think if you got one of these pillars in the foreground with the sculpture in the background, that could maybe be a candidate for cover,” Cinder said.

Ruby hurried over to look at what she meant, leaving Blake standing next to Soapbox, shoulders slumped forward and her face burning hot.

Was getting cover worth it? Was getting to work with Ruby worth how insufferable and annoying aloof Cinder was? Blake was seriously considering it, but then she watched as Ruby giggled at something Cinder said, and she knew then that she had to stick with this, for whatever other reasons, but mostly to make sure Ruby and Cinder didn’t become a thing.

Was that shitty of her? Maybe. But the thought of that happening made her blood boil.

~~~

“How about I take you both for a drink?”

The offer felt like it came out of nowhere. The three of them were waiting on a bench not far from the gallery. Night had fallen, and while they had gotten plenty of photos and Blake had gotten the chance to take some notes about the various artists, it wasn’t that late. Blake was about to hail a rideshare because she just wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way home, but (while she kind of hated that she did), Blake considered Cinder’s offer.

“That sounds like fun, sure!” Ruby said. She sat between Blake and Cinder, tapping away at her laptop as she backed up the photos of the day. Even as time went on, she hadn’t lost any energy, which Blake was impressed by. She certainly couldn’t say the same for herself she was fresh out of college.

“Lovely,” Cinder said with a smile.

Well, if Ruby was going with Cinder, Blake was definitely going, too. “Sure. I could use a drink. But I’m not staying out late, nor should any of us. We’ve got more work to do tomorrow.”

Cinder nodded knowingly. “Just a little excursion. We’ll save the proper night out for Friday.” Blake couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “I know I nice little bar near here. It’s the quaint type, for hipsters like us.”

Blake chuckled a bit at that. “Great, I love craft beer,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve never had anything other than hard seltzer,” Ruby admitted with a shy chuckle. “Do they have that?”

“I’m sure they do, hun,” Cinder assured her with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand up.

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck bashfully as she shut her laptop, having finished saving her images. “Not to be a stereotypical gay or anything.”

Blake snorted a laugh, then blushed at the fact she’d snorted. “What, do gays like hard seltzer?”

“I guess?” Ruby shrugged, still blushing.

“I’m more of a red wine lesbian myself, we all have our tastes,” Cinder told her, her voice dripping with a flirtatious lull, as if she were already a glass deep.

Blake chewed on the inside of her mouth. She figured “whatever sounds good at the time bisexual” wouldn’t sound as sexy as red wine lesbian. Then again, she’d never had a hard seltzer. “I’ll get whatever you get, Ruby. I’m curious.”

Ruby giggled, her cheeks rosy and dimpled when she grinned. “Oh no, now I really hope you like it or else I’ll seem like I have bad taste.”

Blake smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, hun, I think I’ll like it just fine.” She felt proud of herself for slipping a “hun” in there like Cinder had. The combination of Ruby blushing and Cinder shooting her a glare of recognition was a satisfying confidence boost.

Ruby tapped her feet on the concrete a few times, like she was letting out a sudden excess of energy, and she hopped off the bench. “We should go! The night’s not getting any younger, right?”

Cinder stood with her, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. “We should. I’ll lead the way.”

Blake sighed as she followed, the group beginning to follow Cinder’s lead away from the park. She hoped she’d seen the end of Cinder’s funny business, but she knew that was a hope in futility. She had to be planning something, right?

The best Blake could think to do was be there to see what it was.

#freelance love triangle au #pawling petals #rwby #ruby rose #blake belladonna #cinder fall #drabble

[nerdstrings]

hello, you can ignore this if you want but I'm almost seventeen and haven't had my first kiss or serious relationship yet. I have a friend who recently had her first kiss and another friend who's already engaged and I feel like I'm missing out and kind of lonely. Any advice?

Hello! Oh, I remember feeling this way. (That doesn't automatically mean I have objectively good advice to give, but I can offer my take.)

I'll lay the groundwork by telling you I'm asexual (but didn't know it until my mid-twenties), demi-romantic (didn’t know until my 30s) and had my first dating experience without knowing really why I was doing it during my awkward mid-teens. There's more story after that which isn't super relevant here but has given me opportunities to get to know myself and put some context behind those teen-years feelings.

Feeling lonely that way is totally normal. Feeling like you’re missing out is, too. I felt them. The benefit of time and distance has helped me understand that those things I felt weren’t entirely internally driven. There is a lot of social expectation around romantic (and/or sexual) relationships and your participation in them. For me, the feeling I remember voicing as “I want a boyfriend” was, at its core, a desire for companionship and a freakin’ hug. Teenage-me was in serious need of a cuddle, but really nothing beyond that. I didn’t have any basis for comparison between what I, a demi-romantic asexual, was feeling and what the rest of the world seemed to be feeling all the time. So, yes, it’s normal to feel your own empty space as a lack, especially when in close proximity to friends whose spaces are currently occupied – but that doesn’t necessarily mean you need that occupation too.

I am always going to harp on the idea of examining yourself and thinking critically about what it is you really want, because my life experiences have taken twists and turns that hinged on exactly that. Others may have different experiences that point to a different focus; this one is mine, so that’s where my soapbox sits. I’m still working on it in my mid-thirties, trying to really stay present in my own self-awareness and not get passively swept along the path that just seems like the way everyone’s supposed to go. Turns out it’s hard to retrain your thought processes after spending decades just assuming things about yourself; who knew.

(As far as where your friends are, I will take a second to say that, presuming your friends are around your age, seventeen is really young for getting engaged. Your brain doesn’t even arrive at its final stage of development until age 25. Very, very few people have any solid-with-staying-power idea of who they are as a teenager, or what they want long-term. I wouldn’t encourage putting a lot of self-comparison stock in what this friend is doing. [It could very well be the right choice for them! I don’t know them, and it’s totally possible that their relationship will age with strength and beauty. I just believe it to be statistically unlikely.])

My advice boils down to: ask yourself if you truly want a romantic and/or physical relationship. If yes, that’s fine and normal! If no, that’s also fine and normal! If you’re finding it hard to suss out, I might usher you gently toward the no side for now. When there’s not an active internal drive, external forces tend to push us toward what we think the default is, and there isn’t a default you should be aligning to.

Whether or not you end up seeking a kiss or a serious relationship, there are indeed people out there who will feel good to be around, who will like you and be a positive force in your life. You might not meet them for a little while, but I promise they exist.

Take care, young padawan. I trust you’ll do just fine.

#ask #anonymous #Lee chats #op

[writeiolite]

Hello!!!! I love your writing sm esp the werewolf au! AAAAAA uhhhhh if you dont mind wld u do headcanons of being aobajohsai n nekoma’s managers?? 🥺 just kinda them being protective of the manager,,, and just,, fluffy!!!! If u dont mind ofc!!! Thank you for writing they really been keeping me sane during quarantine ❤️

AW omg thank you so muchhhh im rly happy my writing can help ppl out even a little c: i’m glad u liked SOS too!!! ^^

this is long im so sorry but i rly love it hehe

who: gn!reader, aoba johsai, nekoma

what: fluff, humor

plot: reader as aoba johsai+nekoma manager :D

wc: 1,004

{ hq sfw taglist — tell me if you want to be added or taken off: @yamxgucci }

aoba johsai

tbh they need a manager but also dont???

the whole team knows they can rely on oikawa and their coach is rly good too but having extra brain power does help 

ur there to help the coach strategize when oikawa isn’t doing it

the three of u work together n honestly ur rly efficient together

kindaichi probably has a crush on u bc of that

always wants ur attention but he won’t try hard for it u know

meanwhile u will try hard for kyotani’s attention

not bc of romantic feelings but this plan u just came up with? chef’s kiss! kyotani cmere 

u have to ask iwaizumi for help with kyotani sometimes but honestly he’s always helping u without u realizing or asking since the team rly looks up to him anyway

will offer u advice on how certain events go if oikawa or the coach havent already

will probably say oikawa was wrong abt something right in front of oikawa’s face

will probably make fun of oikawa

“y/n-chan he’s being mean again”

u will ignore them both honestly hkbkgfjg you have stuff to do

like get kunimi on track but also get yahaba to stop teasing him

yahaba thinks ur cute but rest assured he will never make a move

partially bc he knows kindaichi has a crush on u and partially bc he knows u won’t entertain his advances hhhh

u are carrying the entire industry on ur back wow how do u feel??

things with aoba johsai are actually rly easy when everyone is together talking abt game plans or going on trips 

they all listen well and respect u a lot 

u don’t know it but iwaizumi speaks highly of u when the team is all laying down to go to sleep if they’re out of town

so does oikawa and even yahaba tbh

the whole team genuinely rly appreciates having u around 

matsukawa and hanamaki especially bc they like to make u laugh n smile

when appropriate ofc — they’re v thoughtful and respectful to ur soapbox times n won’t distract u

hanamaki will bring u food if u show up to practice early or stay late

he and watari will be the ones to compliment ur efforts consistently

watari thinks u work too hard sometimes but later he realizes it’s bc u care abt the team so much and honestly that makes his heart hurt

he rly admires u for that and didn’t think anyone who wasn’t an officially teammate would care so much

expect to get gifts/treats from the team a lot. they’ll all pitch in to buy u smth, pay for ur food, or take u out as thanks

ur rly valuable on their team n they definitely make it known

nekoma

kenma is frl the brains of nekoma so im sry u are not strategizing

“y/n u rly don’t have to help out with game strategies yknow”

“ik kenma but i feel useless otherwise”

bro bad move — they will never make u feel useless again like

u have to stop kuroo from being too rambunctious sometimes

lev is literally doing smth he shouldn’t be if u look away for -4 seconds

yaku is there to help u reel them in but honestly he’s glad ur there so he can slack off a little

esp bc ur more patient with lev so i promise u it’s like

“y/n it’s ur turn to get lev now”

“…. i am? always?? getting lev???”

*shared custody noises*

team trips rly be like “ 4, 5, 6… where is kai”

“y/n u literally skipped counting me”

“oh hhahahahahahhh my b”

“it’s fine” ugh hes just so nice n knows the rest of the team is already a hassle

kai and yaku are truly the first ones to help u out w/o making a big deal out of it

kuroo-,,..,.. well

he’ll help u out but he’s gonna put the spotlight on u and on whatever the issue is

“oi u guys are gonna make y/n fill all these water bottles alone? what kind of team is this?!!!?!???!!!”

will proudly grin at u after and pat ur back like “u can count on me dw”

shibayama is ur baby u have to accept this

he doesnt get to do much in games so he can get discouraged. which is why it’s great that ur around to give him smth to do or cheer him up

sometimes if u don’t notice then tamahiko or kenma will point it out to u

inuoka will be ur moral support while ur the whole team’s moral support

no matter what kuroo says, inuoka is ur biggest shooter

they will probably jokingly compete for 1st place in ur heart n will occasionally compete on who can help u out the most

yaku will call them idiots bc honestly are they helping or making it worse we donut know

“8, 9… ok that’s everyone!”

“y/n you didn’t count fukunaga.”

“oh thanks kenma. my b sorry fukunaga”

unbothered king. is used to it honestly. u already have a lot to deal with bro

“y/n did you count me?”

“yamamoto i literally counted you twice.”

“third time’s the charm, right?”

inuoka, biggest y/n defender, jumps on the scene to stop any sort of affection between u and yamamoto

a big “HAHAHA yamamoto ur SO funny when u pretend u have a chance with y/n” is enough to stop him dfhkgkfsjgh im so sorry 

highkey he practiced that line too (ty tanaka) oghkfkg inuoka pls let him have one (1) chance

tbh u may not have everything organized and together but at least it’s an organized mess

family is family n things wouldn’t be the same without you

aka yaku would go insane n shibayama would b sad so pls stay their manager forever

#haikyuu headcanons #nekoma headcanons #aoba johsai headcanons #haikyuu hc #nekoma hc #aoba johsai hc #seijoh hc #seijoh headcanons #seijou hc #seijou headcanons #haikyuu!! #HQ!! #haikyuu #nekoma #seijoh #seijou #aoba johsai #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario

[blackbutterfliescal]

With Eyes To Hear

A Michael Clifford One Shot

Pairing: Barista!Michael Clifford x Deaf!Reader

Word count: 3.4K

Rating: Fluff

Requested by: N/A

Content: second person POV, gender neutral reader insert, Deaf!reader (uses sign language & lip reading primarily), first date, singular mention of smoking

A/N: The Deaf community is very near and dear to my heart. I’ve been taking ASL classes for just over 2 years but I’m not Deaf/HoH. I will not claim to be a voice for this community but if you are Deaf/HoH, I welcome any thoughts you want to share with me. If you want to read a really sweet Luke fic by someone who is hearing impaired, check out Can You Hear Me? and Valentine by Frankie. 💕 Also!! big big shout-out to my bby Adri for making this pretty moodboard for me 😇😘

✨ Masterlist ✨

Get added to my taglist here 🌺

AO3 Link

Feedback is always appreciated! 😊

———

This afternoon was proving to be the longest in recorded history. At least that’s what it felt like to Michael. The cafe had been dead since he got there after lunch and it was nearing closing time. He felt like he could count this shift’s customers on one hand. Rainy days were always slow, but today seemed never ending.

Michael could hear the rain falling outside the door, which Calum left propped open for one last smoke break. As he moved around the pastry case to sweep the small seating area, Michael glanced out the windows to see that any hint of daylight was gone. The street lights had flickered on outside the cafe and reflected brightly off the rain-slick pavement.

He resumed his sweeping, determined to leave on time today. He broke out of his cleaning trance at the jingle of the bell above the front door. He did his best to plaster on a smile, knowing he had less than ten minutes until close.

“Oh, sorry we’re-” He stopped short.

Heavy boots hit the floor repeatedly in an effort to knock the water off on the welcome mat. The door slammed shut behind you and, though you didn’t seem to notice him, Michael winced slightly at the sound. You shrugged the oversized rain jacket off your shoulders and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

So much for leaving on time tonight,he thought.

He made his way to the register as you approached. You gave him a small smile and wave and he couldn’t help the tired grin on his face. “Sorry,” you mouthed, eyebrows furrowed. You really wouldn’t be out for coffee so late if you weren’t desperate. And you were trying hard not to track the rain all over his clean floor.

“What can I get you?” he asked. The exhaustion was evident on his face.

“Do you have a pen and paper?” you signed.

“Ummmm…” Michael dug in the pockets of his apron quickly for the notepad and pencil he usually kept. He handed them over to you in a hurry and you let out a giggle at his frantic actions. Michael’s stomach picked up with butterflies and his face cracked into a smile at the sound. You slid the notepad back across the counter with your order and your name scrawled at the bottom. When he looked up to meet your face, you gave him a timid smile.

He read out your name as he leaned down to grab a to-go cup and started to make your coffee “I used to go to have a babysitter with the same name. They were so strict! I remember this one time….” He trailed off as he turned to the machine behind him. Michael always rambled when he got nervous. And he was always nervous around people he thought were cute. When he faced toward you again, you noticed his lips moving and waved your hand to get his attention.

“I’m deaf. I can’t hear you. But I’m pretty good at reading lips! Just face me when you talk.” You kept the polite smile on your face as his cheeks flushed red. This wasn’t new territory for you by any means and you had become an expert at navigating situations like this, unfortunately.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking.” he sighed and looked at his feet.

You waved again to draw his gaze back to you. “It’s fine! Just remember to look at me when you speak.” Michael smiled at you sheepishly with a small nod. “Okay.” He wasn’t familiar with the signs you were using, but he could piece together what you needed from him.

He quickly finished the order and placed the coffee on the counter, telling you not to worry about paying for it. Besides, he’d already counted the money drawer and didn’t want to have to do it again for a single coffee. You held his gaze with a toothy grin for a few beats before pointing at the door awkwardly.

“I’m...going to go. Thank you very much! I’ll see you around,” you signed.

You pulled the raincoat on again and wrapped your hands around the warm coffee before disappearing into the rain, letting the door slam behind you.

Michael stared at the door long after you’d gone. It wasn’t until Calum came back in to do some last minute clean-up that he snapped out of it.

———

That night when Michael got home, he sat in his usual spot at the computer. His phone buzzed on the table next to him, lighting up briefly to show a text from Calum.

Are you joining the game or not, man? We’re getting our asses kicked.

Michael had been at this for hours and could probably use a break to play. After a moment of thought, he shot back a quick reply.

Not tonight.I’ve got something else going on.

He sat his phone face down, causing him to miss Calum’s cheeky response, and glanced at the clock at the bottom of his computer screen. He’d been researching for hours. He decided to watch one more video before calling it a night. A yawn that stretched across his face as he clicked play on yet another video titled Deaf Culture 101.

———

It had been almost a week and Michael was still hoping to see you come back into the cafe. He’d been working on signs for anything he thought might be helpful but practicing your name was his favorite. He made Calum quiz him every day when the mid-afternoon lull hit. Calum completely understood where his friend was coming from but sometimes Michael got on a soapbox about inaccessibility for hours and that always made Calum roll his eyes, regretting his decision to be helpful.

When you appeared in the cafe that morning, Calum threw a wink at Michael and watched as a nervous blush crept across his face and neck. Calum gave him a small thumbs up and made sure to stay out of his way as you got closer to the front of the line.

“Good morning!” He spelled your name out at an agonizingly slow pace. “How….are you…..today?”

A wide smile took over your face and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed that you didn’t get his name last time you came in. You quickly found the name tag pinned to his apron and let out a sigh of relief before replying politely. You did your best to use signs you thought he might recognize and give him time to register them.

It took a lot of concentration for him to remember the right signs now that you were here and you could tell that he was panicking and clearly flustered. He remembered your order and your smile reached your eyes at his thoughtfulness.

“And one of these!” you said, leaning forward to point at your favorite treat in the pastry case for clarity. When you looked up from the baked goods, you met Michael’s light eyes. He must be the sweetest thing in here, you thought while holding his gaze. Your eyes went wide with shock at your own mind, causing you to glance around the rest of the shop before realizing the two of you were holding up the line.You quickly shuffled to the cash register where Michael rang up your breakfast.

As he gathered the change in his hand, you motioned for him to keep it and he slid it into the tip jar. “Thank you!” he signed with a smile. His nervous brain got ahead of him and he couldn’t come up with the right signs before he blurted out, “I wanted to ask if you’d want to hang out this weekend? I’m available Sunday afternoon?” You smiled again, reading the question on his lips. “Sure! That sounds great! Do you want to text me and make plans?” you asked, looking around for a pen and paper to write down your cell number.

Shock and excitement ran across his features as he picked up your coffee cup from the counter. He scribbled his phone number on the cardboard protector and handed it to you. Michael always felt so awkward making small talk and a new language made him even more nervous. He genuinely couldn’t believe you had agreed to a date with him. You gave him a small wave as you pivoted toward the door, giving him another smile over your shoulder before making it outside.

Michael was stuck in the same place with a goofy grin on his face until the next customer made their way to the register. Calum clapped his hand across his friend's shoulders to pull him back to reality but he didn’t come down from cloud nine for the rest of the day.

———

The two of you exchanged constant messages until Sunday rolled around. Your conversations were effortless and, most of the time, about nothing. You’d discussed every favorite you could think of, the strangest orders he’d taken each day, the interesting people you saw on your commutes, and he’d even snapped you hilariously edited candids of Calum. Poor guy had no idea his friend was turning him into a pirate or a pilot or a heavy metal rockstar.

You’d gotten a slow start to your morning as you made breakfast and sat down to watch the news until it switched to local programming around eleven o’clock. As you were getting ready for your afternoon with Michael, you realized the two of you had never decided what you were doing. He did ask you to hang out after all, so you hoped he had something in mind. When you messaged him to ask, you felt the tiniest bit guilty nixing a couple of his ideas immediately. Movies just weren’t practical since captioning devices were notoriously bad and, though a nice restaurant sounded lovely, the lighting was almost always too dim to read lips. He was throwing ideas around pretty quickly, so you thought it a little odd when he disappeared for a few minutes after a couple of rejected ideas. You knew he wouldn’t just leave you hanging, so you sat your phone down and continued your routine, deciding that if you didn’t hear from him by the time you were done, you would pitch a few plans of your own. After about ten minutes of silence, just as you picked it up to propose a place to go, your phone buzzed and lit up with Michael's name at the top of the screen.

I have a plan but it’s a surprise. I’ll send you the address but promise me you won’t look it up! Oh, and wear sunscreen 😎

You can’t help the amused smile that took over your face as you promised not to ruin his surprise. You wondered what in the world you’ve gotten yourself into but knew you’d have a good time with Michael no matter what.

After another half hour, Michael texted you that he’s ready when you are. He sent you the address and you couldn’t help trying to piece it together. You were somewhat familiar with the part of town where you were meeting, but not enough to figure out what he had planned. You let him know that you were on your way, sunscreen and sunglasses in tow.

After a short drive across town, you pulled into a fairly empty parking lot. Panic started to creep into your stomach until you spotted Michael standing outside his car at the other end, waving happily with a big grin on his face. As you parked, he came to the side of your door to help you out. He was always so sweet and thoughtful that it caused a permanent blush on your cheeks.

“Hi! How are you? I’m excited to see you again,” he signed, much improved from the last time you’d seen him. The smile on your face always seemed to accompany the warm blush when you were with Michael. “Me too!” you said as you looked around to see where he’d brought you. Your brows furrowed as you turned back to meet his gaze, “What are we doing here?” Determined to keep it a surprise, he told you that you would just have to be patient and wait. 

Patience is a virtue but not one you were known to possess, so you quickly pulled the things you needed out of your car and locked it up. Michael took your hand and led you down the sidewalk. You knew you were near the banks and you could smell the water but you still were at a loss for what you were doing.

The two of you strolled hand-in-hand for a few blocks, content with the silence between you. You had only known each other for a short time, but it made you happy to see that he had so quickly become comfortable with you. He wasn’t the same nervous, rambling man you first met, though you will admit you found him charming either way. When it came to navigating the hearing world, you were almost always outside of conversations and it made you feel warm that Michael didn’t see the need for mindless jabber. He was waiting until he could properly sign with you and that meant more than you could let him know. Instead, as you made your way wherever, you both watched the sparse tourists out and about the area for the afternoon. 

As you came upon a small path toward the banks, he motioned to the side to let you know that’s where you were headed. After a few more steps, you cleared the last row of buildings and saw the pier stretched out in front of you. Of course it was the pier and you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize sooner! You stopped for a second to take it in. It had been a while since you had gone to the pier because it was always a draw for visitors and you tended to avoid the large crowds. You took in the rows of carnival games and fried food stands outfitted in flashing lights before seeing a pair of tourists flying from one end to the other on a giant zipline. Your eyes went wide with shock and you shot a quick, worried glance at Michael. He began to laugh before he replied, “don’t worry - we’re just here for games and food!” He barely finished signing to reassure you before he wrapped your hand in his again and he took off, pulling you toward a pair of whack-a-mole seats.

The light crowd that afternoon meant that you could walk up to any stand without a wait to play and you were convinced Michael wanted to play every game there. When you were both beat out at whack-a-mole by the ten-year old next to you, you decided buzzer games probably weren’t your strong suit. The two of you raced between game stands in a never-ending fit of laughter. Some games had you competing against each other and the playful trash-talk amused the game attendants. Then, just as quickly as you’d started your banter, you’d find a single player game and become each other’s biggest cheerleader.

After losing at the cat rack, tin can alley, and the balloon bust, Michael wanted to try his hand at a game of chance, since clearly precision was not for him. His pace between games had slowed down considerably since you’d arrived and he was determined to win something to take home. He just hadn’t found much luck. The two of you wandered down the wooden platform with your fingers lazily entwined until you found the ring toss booth. You dropped his hand and signed excitedly to him that you’d find another game to try.

When he came very close to winning on several rings from the first bucket, Michael decided to give it a second go. The two of you tossed one red ring after another, almost making it many times but always watching them bounce off to the side. You picked up the last two rings in the bucket and handed one to Michael. His eyes met yours and you both nodded before turning back toward the game. He used his free hand to count down from three and you both sent the rings sailing through the air. You watched intently as they bounced around the bottle tops before Michael’s landed squarely around the golden glass bottle in the center.

He threw his arms up in the arm in victory as you looked at him with surprise and celebration on your face. His arms came down around your shoulders in a quick hug before the game attendant came over to help him claim a prize. Without hesitation, he turned to you and asked “Which one do you want?” You glanced up at the options and pointed out a small stuffed animal hanging right above you. As if on instinct, you hugged it to your chest when the attendant handed it over and thanked them and Michael. Smile on your face, stuffed animal in one hand, and Michael in the other hand, you couldn’t have been happier as you wandered between stalls.

The smell of something sweet caught your attention as you looked around to find the source. Michael must have read your mind because he began guiding you in the direction of the food stand without warning. To your surprise, the person inside the booth knew enough sign language to take your order without needing a pen and paper. Michael beamed from ear to ear watching your happiness as you were able to order treats for both of you. He only caught every second or third word, but he could see the elated smile on your face. Michael had needed to step in at most of the games throughout the afternoon, so you felt very excited to find someone who spoke your language.

Once you’d retrieved your treats and thanked the worker again, you began to walk back toward the parking lot leisurely. Just as you finished your snacks and were about to approach the end of the pier, you spotted a small photo booth kiosk. You grabbed Michael’s hand and tugged him off in that direction without much of a choice.The two of you piled onto the narrow seat and closed the curtain before you fed money into the machine. You selected a decorative frame with the date in the corner and the onscreen countdown began.

For the first pose, you held up the prize Michael won you with a toothy grin and he threw up a thumbs up, earning a laugh from you. You both pulled a funny face in the next pose and when it popped up on screen, you noticed that Michael had the tiniest bit of food stuck on the outside corner of his lips. You turned toward him and reached your hand up to rest on his cheek as your thumb swiped away the residue. Michael let out a small gasp as his face turned to you. The camera flash for the third picture caught you off guard and caused you to pull away as heat flushed over your cheeks. Before his confidence faltered, Michael cupped your face and brought his lips to meet yours. Your eyes fluttered closed briefly before he pulled away and looked into your eyes. You could read the hesitance in his expression until you placed a peck on his lips to tell him that it was okay. His mouth stretched into a wide smile and you felt your cheeks burn even hotter as you pulled back and glanced timidly at the stuffed animal in your lap.

Michael reached for the copies of the printed film strip at the bottom of the machine and flushed as he realized the last picture was of your kiss. He handed you a copy as he signed “cute” with a smile before opening the curtain and stepping out of the kiosk. You carried the photo strip in the same hand as your ring toss prize so you could hold Michael’s hand in the other. As you made your way back down the sidewalk to your parked cars, you leaned your head against his shoulder. He placed a sweet kiss to the top of your head with a smile, earning a contented hum from you before you fell back into silence for the next few blocks. You had known you would have a good afternoon with Michael, but it had exceeded all expectations.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @kingcals @youngblood199456 @bookercth @atlcalm @another-lonely-heart @ashtonsos @castaway-cashton @itsjen223 @softbabiestan​

#can you tell that I hate writing dialogue??? #anyway happy soft!michael tuesday #michael clifford #michael x reader #michael one shot #michael fluff #my writing

[carriagelamp]

September Book Roundup, back-to-school edition aka The Season Of Red apparently?

Here is a selection of the books I’ve read this month. Summer is over, so the little bit of brain power I had managed to scrape together is quickly disintegrating, so enjoying the hodge podge of stories.

Binti

This was probably my favourite book that I read this month. It’s a novella I first heard about hear on tumblr and went to find a copy in my library. I have since bought the collected trilogy so I can read book two and three at my leisure because it was honestly just that friggin cool. This is exactly my flavour of scifi and I tend to be very very picky about the scifi I consume. It’s about a girl named Binti, a member of the Himba people (a real group of indigenous people from Namibia). They are a people well known for their mathematical and technical prowess, but due to their strong connection to their homeland and the earth they choose not to travel through space like so many other humans do. However, when Binti secures a position at Oomza University, the greatest university in the galaxy, she chooses to go against her family’s wishes and traditions in order to set out into space to attend. Everything is ruined though when her spaceship is attacked by a hostile alien race and everyone is killed but Binti, who must rely on all her intellect and abilities if she wants any chance at survival.

A seriously cool book with great world building – it really successfully introduces readers not only to the fictional scifi world and races of the novel but also to the culture and traditions of the Himba people. It’s a quick read, and feels like a cross between Dead Space and Tamora Pierce. Would totally recommend a read.

Fake Blood

A Canadian graphic novel. It was a goofy cute read. It’s about an awkward group of friends in middle school, and one boy with a crush on one of the girls in his class. Knowing her love for vampire stories, AJ decides, like any self-respecting middle schooler, to try to pretend he’s a vampire. Naturally nothing goes right and some things go wrong in unexpected ways. It’s funny and cute. Nothing amazing but it was a cozy evening read.

The Last Book On The Left

I’ve been listening to this podcast a lot since my friend recommended it to me and finally decided to read their book. For those that don’t know, The Last Podcast On The Left is a immaculately researched comedy podcast that’s hosted by Ben Kissel, Marcus Parks, and Henry Zebrowski, and explores the darker realms of human nature. Ghosts, paranormal, aliens, cults, and of course serial killers. In this book they collected several of their biggest name serial killer series, did some renewed research, and put together a book that is both informative, irreverent, gross, and very funny, complete with some really amazing illustrations by Tom Neely. A very cool read (and listen, if you decide to check out the podcast instead), I really love how they tell these stories without idolizing or romanticizing the people they talk about. Their humour always makes sure you know exactly how much of a pathetic loser these people are. Fantastic true crime, from someone who has never really felt the need to read about true crime before.

Midnight Sun

I won’t harp on this one, everyone is already going to firmly have their opinions here. I grew up on Twilight, I was reading them as they came out, and I still love them. Were they dumb? Oh my god yes. Did they have problems? Sure, they came out in 2005 it was part and parcel. Were they also a really fun for a thirteen year old to read? Absolutely, I don’t regret it. Sometimes teenage girls should just to get like things without being mocked.

Anyway, I am off my soapbox now (can you tell this is still a raw spot for me?) I unironically loved this book! Getting to see Edward’s perspective was really cool, and since he can read minds it essentially let you get the perspective of everyone else around him too. The Cullens family is a great set of characters so it was really cool to see more of them, and I was very impressed by how Stephenie Meyers took a YA romance she wrote in 2005 and was able to make it feel updated and more appropriate for a 2020 audience even though she couldn’t actually change any of the events themselves. So fans of Twilight, don’t be ashamed, go read Midnight Sun and have the shameless fun you deserve. Is there anymore appropriate book for the bizarre ass year that was 2020 than a return to this goofy nonsense?

The Paperbag Princess

(and Up, Up, Down, and Robert Munsch in general)

I’m back in schools so I’m back to reading children’s book! And honestly, and of you that don’t occasionally sit down and read a kids book out loud don’t know what you’re missing. Anyway, Robert Munsch is a Canadian author, and one of my all-time favourite children’s authors. It surprised me to learn he isn’t as well known in the States apparently? I don’t know if that’s changed or not, but he is a Canadian staple for a good reason, his books have ridiculous premises, are specifically written to be fun to read out loud, and have beautiful, involved, and hilarious illustrations. The Paperbag Princess is one of my absolute favourites, and as a kid it was one of the first stories I had ever read where a princess is the one saving the prince… and then telling the prince to piss off when it turns out he’s a jerk. Up, Up, Down is another favourite I reread this month, because it’s just hilarious funny and makes a fantastic read aloud with kids. Some other Robert Munsch I reread this month include: Mmm, Cookies, More Pies, Ribbon Rescue, Just One Goal, and Andrew’s Loose Tooth. You just cannot go wrong, for kids or adults.

Pit Pony

Another Canadian staple while I was growing up. If you’re a young adult know who went through the Canadian elementary school system, you probably had your entire heart ripped out and stepped on by this chapter book. It’s a historical fiction that looks at the economic hardship, debt slavery, child labour, and animal abuse that was tied to coal mining in the Maritimes. Finding a copy was harder than I would have expected give how pervasive it was a decade or so back, but reading it again was a pure shot of nostalgia.

Seeking Refuge

A graphic novel written by a German-born Canadian about a Jewish girl who flees Nazi-occupied Austria by way of Kindertransport to become a child refuge in England. It follows her as she is moved from host family to host family as the war continues to pick up and gradually makes it’s way to the United Kingdom as well. It’s very poignant and the pencil-sketch illustrations are an interesting change to a lot of the graphic novels that are out right now. This story is still aimed at a younger audience, so it never gets too brutal but it still is a hard hitting story, especially with everything else going on right now.

Silver Spoon #9/10

I know I’ve talked about these books before, but my library got some more since I last read them, so I’m continuing my way through the series. It’s about a teenaged boy who, after having a breakdown from the pressure he was feeling to study and succeeded, decided not to attend an academic, urban high school, but rather to apply for an agricultural high school so he could live in the dorms, far away from his parents. The series just gets more and more heartwarming as it continues. It’s all about failure and overcoming and how worth can be measured in different ways, and about family and understanding each other and coming together… but also about the realities of farming which aren’t always very nice, especially when it comes to finances and survival. It’s written by the mangaka behind Fullmetal Alchemist but I’ll be honest… I think I like this series more. It is honestly one of my all time favourite manga series, it just has so much heart.

Ruby Finds A Worry

aka Ruby’s Worry apparently? I can’t figure out why this has more than one title. I actually read it in French not English, so for me it was Le Souci de Calie. Regardless, this was a nice little picture book for talking about worries and anxieties with children… especially with the amount of Covid stress a lot of kids are dealing with. It explains in a really nice way how talking about anxieties are often the best way to make them more manageable, and how pretending nothing is wrong can just let it grow bigger and bigger. A good explanation for kids and possible a good reminder for adults.

War of the Realms: Journey Into Mystery

I read this because the Mcelroy family wrote it so I figured Hey! Why not give it a go! And I’m glad I did. Their brand of humour was all over it, and it made the story a delight to read. I don’t follow all of Marvel’s weirdness, so I didn’t actually know most of the characters (Miles and Kate were actually the only two I was familiar with) but they do a great job of introducing the characters and making them all feel distinct and interesting. I absolutely adore the Dog of Gods (God of Dogs) who is a very very good boy. And Miles is absolutely always a delight so you can’t really lose. It’s a single book that I think is a part of a larger plotline that I have zero interest in. This book is a fine one to read though if you don’t mind jumping into the middle of the action and just getting swept along for the ride. Also Mcelroys!

Witcher Omnibus

Bleh. Absolutely not worth it. All the misogyny and Dumb Bullshit that I hate in the original books and from video games in general. Honestly, Witcher III did way better by its characters than most of these short stories. The only one worth reading in it is Curse Of Crows – that one was actually really enjoyable, probably because it was about Ciri and had an actual fucking woman on the writing team. (Seriously guys what were you thinking with Fox Children that’s literally just a story from Season of Storms but done worse. Fuck off.) If you like The Witcher, go read Curse of Crows and skip every other story in this book.

Billy Stuart: Les Zintrépides #1

Another French (Quebecois) book I read, though I believe you can get it in English as well (Billy Stuart and the Zintrepids). It’s a chapter book / graphic novel hybrid, and was honestly a fairly fun little read. It’s in a similar vein to Geronimo Stilton but done much better in my opinion. The humour was funnier, the characters felt less like caricatures, and while it still used stylized fonts it was also less intrusive and eye-strainy than the Stilton books. Also when the story suddenly pivots into the main adventure and mystery of the series? Fantastic. Was not expecting a hell-beast to appear part way through the story. Very interested in reading more.

Over all, it was cute and funny, and I can see it being a good next step when children have read their fill of the Stilton series and want something similar but possibly a bit more involved and coherent.

#chatter #book review #book reviews #midnight sun #twilight #stephenie meyer #last book on the left #last podcast on the left #lpotl #binti #robert munsch #paperbag princess #marvel #war of the realms #journey into mystery #mcelroys #mbmbam #silver spoon #fma #the witcher #billy stuart #zintrepids #geronimo stilton #spiderman #canadian literature #canlit #cancon #manga #graphic novels #comics