#I'm thinking back to how old I was when this was first coming out

[endelineinwonderland]

Let The Light In: Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Words: 2K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, fluff, suggestive scenes.

A/N: WAR IS OVER!!!! Also, it's finals week and I didn't get off work 'till 11 so this really wasn't supposed to happen but here we are I guess! Gonna have to edit this in the morning cause there's no way in hell I'm going to bed after 6 (apologies, but too many sleep-related sacrifices have already been made tonight.) Also, I might be moving to fast but the angst was getting to me as much as y'all so we can save the heart to heart for later, let them fuck it out first.

To love Paige, you have to truly understand her, and you do, as well as you know the back of your hand. Paige often acts impulsively, leaving you to think things through for her, and the last time you neglected this responsibility, she stopped talking to you for a year. You were never going to make that mistake again, and as a result, everything had meticulously planned everything down to the smallest detail.

As you laid in bed next to her, you had been decided it would be in your best interest, and more importantly in Paige’s best interest, to stay away from her. You had run through a million different scenarios, lived out each and every possible outcome in your mind, and this was the only one that made sense long-term, at least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, the timing had worked out perfectly. Paige always got hyper-focused before game days, so your absence hadn’t been noticed. You just had to get through that morning, pretending to be asleep when she had pressed kisses to your cheeks to ‘wake’ you, feigning enthusiasm as she rummaged through your fridge for the ingredients to make the lemon pancakes she "missed so much," and suppressing your tears when you hugged her goodbye, knowing it would be the last time you’d let yourself have her like this. You waved at her with a forced grin as she drove off, and you hadn’t spoken to her since.

When you had to face her again, you had a plan. You had accounted for her coming up to you during halftime; you’d be pleasant, more professional than normal, but not in any noticeable ways. You would just be laying the groundwork for your plan: to slowly drift away.

Paige would never know you had intentionally left her, and the memory of you would be something she could look back upon fondly, an old almost-love-story from her college days.

You hadn’t, however, planned at all for a massive upset, one that would leave Paige practically storming off the court when the fourth-quarter buzzer finally signaled the end of the disastrous game. And you definitely hadn’t planned to receive a call from Ice right after you’d finally wrapped up your work for the night and just tucked yourself into bed. In all honesty, you hadn’t accounted at all for the effect Paige had on you, and your resistance is only so strong.

“Hey, sorry to bother you so late, but is Paige with you?” Ice's voice crackled through the phone, sounding unusually tense. “No, she’s not with me. Why?” The girl on the other end of the line spoke in frantic, hushed tones to someone in the background before finally responding to you, “She hasn’t returned to the dorms since after the presser, we just got back from dinner and we thought she was here, but she’s left her phone in her room and her car is gone. When we realized this we just assumed she'd gone to you.”

Your heart sank. Paige had a tendency to disappear a bit when she didn’t want people to know how she was feeling, but she’d never physically left, normally just opting to shrink in on herself, her smile becoming a little less bright, and her voice piping up fewer and fewer times until she was completely silent, as she would typically remain for the rest of the night, adamantly denying that anything was wrong.

In a knee-jerk reaction, you check her location, silently thanking God for how out of it you had been the days after Paige’s injury, more specifically, that your mutual distress had made you forget to stop sharing your locations. The thanks quickly turned to quiet curses, however, when you see her location displayed atop an outline of her dorm room on the map and Ice’s voice echoed in your mind, “She’s left her phone.” But, before you could close the app, the location of an AirTag speeding rapidly down highway 95 caught your eye. When the two of you had left her car a few nights ago after ice cream, you’d forgotten one of your camera bags, one that had a tag in it.

In the blink of an eye, any former resolve to stay away from the blonde was completely obliterated. You’d never gotten to your car faster.

You couldn't believe you were doing this. After meticulously planning every detail to ensure a seamless, unnoticed exit from Paige's life, you now find yourself racing down the highway at breakneck speeds, chasing a signal from a damn camera bag. You kept your eyes glued to the road, your heart impossibly pounding faster with each mile you covered.

The AirTag's location pinged consistently, a tiny beacon guiding you to her. Your inability to act even vaguely nonchalant about the girl was becoming distressing; any and all thoughts of self-preservation flew out the window as you passed another exit sign. If she were a lighthouse, you’d intentionally steer yourself to crash onto her shores, if just for the sake of being near her.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, the familiar landscape of a lookout point came into view. You exhaled a shaky breath, memories flooding back of the night Paige had brought you here, when you had fallen asleep in her car and woken up hours later—still in her car—just to give her so much shit about it, dumping all your feelings into the vehicle until there was no room left for hers.

You try to stop your racing thoughts as you pull up next to the blonde’s familiar black car, this isn't about you, this is about Paige. An eerie cloak of silence smothering you immediately as you shut off your engine.

There she was, sitting on the hood, her figure silhouetted against the dusky sky. She looked so small, so fragile, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the thought of leaving her alone like this, of sticking to your plan despite everything, seemed unbearable, and even worse, it felt familiar.

You climb out of your car and approach her slowly. Paige didn’t look up, but you know she is aware of your presence. You stop a few feet away, the cool night air wrapping around you both as you struggle to decide what to do.

“Paige,” you call softly.

She turns her head slightly, her eyes meet yours, the complete and utter relief evident in her expression almost making you stumble back. “What are you doing here?” she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. “Ice called me. Said you were missing,” you explain, taking a tentative step closer. “I realized my bag is still in your trunk, so I followed the location tag.” She nods, turning her attention back to the scene in front of her as a sob racks her body, seemingly out of nowhere.

You hurry to her side, standing in front of her, tucking yourself between her long legs hanging off the car hood. “Love, don’t cry,” the term of endearment passing through your lips before you could think to stop it. She wraps herself around you, ankles locked around your hips, and upper body slouched completely into yours. “I let everyone down tonight.” Her voice came through muffled, her head tucked into your shoulder.

Acting on instinct, your hands move to run through her hair, playing gently with the ends before moving to run across her back in a desperate attempt to be comforting with something other than your words, which always seemed to fail you.

“I’m sorry for running away, I realized when I got here that I should probably have stayed with someone, that I needed to be with you, but I left my phone at home, and it’s a long drive back.” Paige catches you off guard.

‘I needed to be with you.’

‘I needed to be with you.’

‘She needs to be with you.’

Finally, after probably a million mental repetitions, it finally clicked: she needs you. Just because she didn’t always want you, doesn’t mean she hasn’t always needed you. Maybe even in the same way you desperately need her. You feel incredibly stupid, all along, has it really been that damn simple? Definitely not you decide, but right now the girl you love, 'the girl who loves you', is hurting and that's enough to make you push anything aside. That conversation can happen later, right now you're going to be there for Paige. You're going to prove to yourself that it's okay for you to be with her.

You lean down to press a tentative kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I’m always so proud of you, P, you know that?” Another whimper leaves her throat as you begin to speak. “I’ve watched you win a million games and lose a few too, but when I look at you, I always feel the exact same, so proud of everything you’ve done that after some games I’ve had to go sit alone in my office because it felt like my heart was going to give out if I stayed near you.” Her grip tightens around you, “I really love you.” The pang that normally hits your chest at these words felt duller than normal as you respond, “I love you too.”

“Tonight was bad.” She breaks the silence after a while. “It wasn’t great, no, but I know you, and I know you won’t tolerate it happening again.” You reply, your hand still running in soothing circles across her back. “I just got so stressed I have no idea why, and the whole team took the hit, it’s not fair.” Her voice is tight; she is close to tears again as you pull yourself back to look at her.

“Baby, what’s going on, why were you stressed?” A small shrug and diverted gaze are all you get in response. “You looked tired, have you been sleeping alright?” Her breath stutters, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’ve just accepted that now that I can sleep next to you again, I’m not going to fare so well on my own.” She replies before leaning down to press the softest kiss possible against your parted lips, testing the waters.

Once again, she catches you off guard with the reminder of just how mutual your longing has been this whole time. “We can drive home, you can stay with me.” You reply when your lips finally leave hers, god you'd missed that feeling more than Paige will ever know, and you love letting yourself feel it. She gives you a small shake of her head. “I’m too tired to drive all the way back, I booked a motel room for the night when I realized.”

Being completely unable to resist an opportunity to stay close to her seemed to be the theme of the night you decide as you reply, “Okay, baby then let’s go there. I can take care of you there.”

The motel was a nondescript, low-slung building off the highway, its neon sign flickering in the night as you pulled into the parking lot behind Paige’s car.

Once in the room, you turned on a dim bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the basic furnishings. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, waiting to speak until you took a seat beside her, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. Her voice is hesitant, “I know I said I was tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you want to do instead, love?” She turns to face you before replying, “I want to not think about that stupid fucking game.”

Your gaze turns to the ancient TV sitting on the dresser beside you. “We could watch something?” You suggest, despite being not entirely convinced the thing was even functional. Her eyes practically roll back into her head, hands moving to cup your cheeks as she mutters, “I want to be distracted, not have a distraction.”

‘Oh.’

Her lips were on yours in an instant. Whatever it is about Paige and kissing you until you couldn’t breathe the second she got you alone in a hotel room would need to be studied further you decide as she moves to push you against the mattress, sinking her body weight onto you. Even if right now this is fueled entirely by her need to forget the night she's had, you’ll take it.

She breaks the kiss. “Is this okay?” ‘She has to be kidding’ you think, some might think the two of you were moving too fast but you know that this has been building up for months if not years. “Paige, this is more than okay.” She grins before tilting your chin up to capture your lips once again.

Her mouth quickly ends up moving down to your neck, planting soft kisses down the base of it before nipping at the skin of your collarbone, most definitely leaving a mark. Your head is spinning; you want her more than anything. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer to you before using her new center of gravity to your advantage, flipping the two of you so you are now resting above her.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your new arrangement, hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her, and her lips parted slightly as she looked up at you, anticipating your next move.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at her, her body spread out beneath you. The sight alone is enough to make your mind race with thoughts that can only be described as downright filthy, and with one particularly vivid image of her chest heaving beneath you, you can't stop yourself. “How many baskets did you get tonight, baby?”

Her face twists into something you didn’t recognize, annoyance perhaps? Distress? “You know I only got four, why’d you feel the need to bring that up right now?” She murmurs, her voice sounding almost ashamed despite how shamelessly her hips were rutting up against yours, begging for more friction.

Unable to resist the urge to feel her you lean down to press a sweet kiss against her pouting lips before pulling back to smile down at her again.

“I bet I can make four feel like a lot.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #paige bueckers angst #fanfic #angst #wbb #Paige Bueckers x reader smut #paige bueckers smut

[wordsvomit101]

I would put him as a "sad old man" on my contact list if I were MC.

Sometimes I gotta be a bit petty for MC cause they don't do it for themself. Credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend on X: https://x.com/shyanimeboi/status/1795183592961655077/video/4

Warnings: Sexual content, complicated brainstorming about guilt and legacy.

Of course, you would say that- No but honestly, I would be pissed as hell if he said that to me directly, cause sir your brother lowkey put MC's parent on the news, made their friend see his ancestor temporarily, and then almost put them in the casket as well. It's a miracle that they do not blindly hate everything relating to angels at this point. (Although I'm glad that you at least find closure from it you dismal oldster ╮(─_─)╭)

It's a little heartwarming that he shows that he still loves his brothers a lot, given how he said: "traces that Gabriel is alive and well". It got me thinking about how it could very likely mean that he believes at some point in the future, either the other kings kill his brothers or Lucifer will have to choose between Hell (repentance) and his love for them when put in a corner he cannot back out, and with him being the Sin of Pride, I don't think he would either.

Also, if he is happy just by seeing the brand alone then his brothers either avoid attacking Paradise Lost personally or he didn't face them directly after he told off Michael more than 100 years ago and he did say that he "can no longer meet to ask how he is doing".

This first option seems like something Solomon would say. As his descendant, how MC presents themself in the daily chats and some of their options are probably the closest we get to see how Solomon would act when he was still around. An example would be how they question the goofy 3 rules policy in Paradise Lost that was set by the nobles, I will admit, I didn't think of that either. I was affected by the devoted behaviors of the nobles from both the event and the beginning of the prologue, in turn, I put Lucifer on an unreachable pedestal and I love that MC boldly questioned it and presented their opinions and rationale that bring Lucifer closer to the player and shows more air-headed sides to the nobles. They bring new perspectives and challenge the assumptions albeit in a small but significant way. I love it, I hope they do it more in the future.

He also finally said it, the holy words of every prideful bastard I know on media, "How dare you", it took 4 chats but we finally got here.

How he process his brothers' wrongdoings and his own? Very understandable and something, in my opinion, most victims would rather want to get from their offenders' family members, acceptance and acknowledgment of the issues and the damage that was done, and a genuine effort to do the right things. Familial love is very complicated, and it is… difficult to hate and condemn someone you come to love first naturally in your life. I think Lucifer, besides God (but also not really), first loves his brothers, probably the first angel to do so for their kind, and by reading the Seraphs’ comics it clearly shows how they either don’t care or hate each other guts yet still capable of loving Lucifer. He raised them, he's both their brother and their second parental figure, and he show them love outside of their devotion to God.

And how he addresses them in the chat, he calls each one of them a "child", he was being very quietly affectionate by focuses on their well-being when he saw the brand on MC. He also only does this with them and Gamigin, so it is clear how he sees them from a caretaker standpoint (the allegation of him being born in his 30s and raising his brothers is not so far-fetched now, honestly, he is the true dilf here, not God). He knows his brothers ruining other people's lives but when they turn around and love and treat him so dearly that it can feel like what they have done to others is an illusion.

When that illusion doesn't cloud his judgment and beliefs anymore? It will hurt and it can feel like his perception of his brothers are lie. It can be easy to deny the first time but since it happens again and again he has to accept the change and it ain't gonna feel great to realize how he is not the bystander here and directly or indirectly enable his brothers' atrocities (maybe join them in it too at some point, but this is just my thoughts). It gonna rewire how he views a lot of things and it gonna run back from the beginning to the current time, and with how long Lucifer lived? That's rough buddy.

Now, humans are insignificant in these guys' eyes and a single death is nothing to them in the vast universe, yes, but like Lucifer said, God made humans and with how he said it after that, humanity is a part of God's legacy. Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human to many, something to be carved on their graves and will at the end of their time, it also helps people who live beyond them to remember and let their spirits or unconscious presence remain on the world. So despite humanity in the grand scheme of things, humans are still the work of God. By referring to God as "Our Father," besides asserting his connection, he also indirectly extends that connection to humans. It suggests a shared lineage and inherent value in all of God's creations.

If I interpret what Lucifer said correctly, then the duty of the Seraphim has always been to protect and care for all beings created by God, ensuring the preservation of His legacy. This duty encompasses all creations, whether great or small, beautiful or flawed. To destroy these creations and leave only themselves as His legacy would be a betrayal of their responsibility. A legacy, regardless of its nature, is not to be forcefully erased. Those who seek to erase it tarnish the very legacy they are meant to safeguard and were entrusted to honor.

So if they can't even accept all of God's legacy, no wonder why they can easily go hunt down every single child of one (1) man they are jealous of. Perhaps this is my speculation on what they did with Solomon, who seemed resigned to being forgotten by the devils in chapter 5. They sought to erase his entire bloodline, his descendants, and his legacy, ultimately aiming to make him extinct from the world (like how poachers do it toward endangered animals). For someone like Solomon, this, in my opinion, could be the most terrible fate for him. I honestly wouldn't put it past God's plan to make MC a part of this war for Solomon.

This option is more like the canon MC than the Solomon option from before. They felt more personal here in their anger.

The desensitization for guilt and emotional detachment is strong in this. Lucifer acknowledges the gravity and permanence of the sins he and his brothers have committed and accepts that he must coexist with his guilt and remorse, but how he goes around with it is mostly for himself. Lucifer mentions that he "voluntarily fell to Hell", a form of self-punishment despite his brothers' protests (but also calling Hell the starting point of sadness is wild cause honestly? Not that wrong, I can't see truly happy devils, and if there is, their development happened off-screen).

Lucifer’s remark that the MC is "not that meaningful enough yet" is his emotional detachment from others. His focus remains on his own internal experiences rather than on the perspectives or forgiveness of others. This detachment suggests that his pursuit of guilt is inward-focused, rather than being about seeking forgiveness or redemption through the eyes of others. Selfish and very prideful, very fitting for the Sin of Pride. The idea that Lucifer is almost addicted to the feeling of guilt points to a self-destructive aspect of his personality. It indicates that he may be using guilt as a way to continually punish himself or a way to keep feeling alive through suffering.

Now this leads to my next point:

Lucifer's search for guilt and remorse indicates a need for intense emotional experiences. Witnessing someone cry, especially if he has caused the tears, could provide a powerful emotional release or catharsis for him. This could momentarily alleviate his own feelings of guilt by transferring some of that emotional burden onto others.

Control. By inducing tears in others, he might be exerting a form of control that he lacks in his own life. This dynamic could satisfy a deep-seated need to reclaim some semblance of power over emotional outcomes.

Witnessing tears might serve as a mirror to his own inner turmoil. It externalizes the pain and suffering he feels internally, allowing him to confront it more tangibly. This externalization can create a twisted sense of connection or empathy, aligning with his need to constantly grapple with guilt.

Lucifer's enjoyment of seeing others cry could be intertwined with his own cycle of punishment and redemption. Inflicting emotional pain might be a way for him to project his self-loathing and need for atonement onto others. It creates a scenario where he can experience the aftermath of guilt without direct self-harm.

Causing others to cry could validate Lucifer's sense of guilt and reinforce his belief that he is deserving of punishment. This validation can be perversely satisfying, as it confirms his self-perception as someone who commits unforgivable sins.

Tears are often a sign of vulnerability. Seeing someone in a state of emotional rawness might create a sense of intimacy that Lucifer finds alluring. This intimacy could particularly appeal to someone who feels isolated by guilt and sins.

#what in hell is bad #whb #wordsvomit notes #whb lucifer #whb solomon #I'm done #I'm too tired after writing this #If it all wrong then cool

[blorbocedes]

let me take you guys on a journey. one that will help you understand how annoyingly obsessive and hung up my brain can get......

so here is where our wild goose chase starts. I was going through a 2012 f1 blog's nico tag. it's actually pretty rare for early 2010s blogs to have comprehensive tagging systems so whenever I find one I try to go thru it all. and I come across this v cute nico image (cropped for posterity. payoff will be worth it promise)

here we have a picture, from 2012, and in classic 2012 fashion there is meme text on it. OP of the original pic deactivated. so I want to find the version without the meme text. pretty easy, just reverse google search right?

WRONG!

google reverse search is functionally dead and defunct and absolutely dogshit.

ok back to square one. I'm trying to sus out from whatever information I have.

the other meme watermark of f1humour.tumblr.com? deactivated.

okay 37 notes. maybe I can do something with this.

tumblr kind of breaks (?) with very old posts. so even if someone tagged it, I can't see it. ok but 14 people liked it!

of the 14 accounts only 7 actually show, including mine. so what I do is I go through 6 of those blogs, and their public archives because those accounts are all inactive for several YEARS now. and I check their blogs for April 2012.

no luck.

back to the drawing board.

the meme has a MOTORSPORT.COM watermark.

here's all the information I have: this was posted on April 24th, 2012, which means that's my upper limit on the date this could be taken. Nico got in Mercedes in 2010. So from anywhere between 2010-2012 motorsport images couldve taken this pic.

so, because I was born with excessive intelligence, I think hmmm... let me search the archives of Motorsport Images dot com. surely that is where Motorsport dot com would keep their Images.

two years of a racing driver's pictures means thousands of pictures. okay. let's start from April 2012. unfortch for keen eyed listening, April 2012 was also the Chinese Grand Prix aka Nico's first f1 win.

why is that relevant? because it means every photographer and their MOTHER took a picture of nico for his first win. over 900+ images.

while I am exhibiting extremely unemployed levels of behavior here, I don't actually have the time and brain capacity to sift through 900 images.

I go back to the original tumblr post. this time I go to the empty reblogs. there's lots!

but because there's no tags it can't help me. still I go through every one of them because you can see the blog I found the pic from @the-fastest-waffle is listed in the other reblogs even though they clearly had tags!

and I find my silver lining. from @fuckyeahf1drivers's tags

just this simple. #bahrain #lol

if this picture is from bahrain 2012 it changes everything, as in it narrows my search a shit tonne.

375 images. This means 1-15 pages and I know the exact picture I'm looking for. I feel like I'm SO close. I can't give up now. gambler mentality 💎

so I guess what. I go through all 15 goddamn pages. and I DONT FIND IT!!!!!!!!! SCREEEEEECH

now I've lost hope. if it's not from bahrain 2012 then it can be from anywhere from 2010-2012 taken by motorsport.com which is just too big a search. there isn't anything I can narrow it down with. my search is futile.

but I have one tiny little thought bugging my mind. how come motorsport images don't have the motorsport.com watermark... so I consult a fellow archivist @vegasgrandprix on the matter.

WE AS A SOCIETY NEED TO ADDRESS WHY MOTORSPORT.COM AND MOTORSPORT IMAGES.COM HAVE THE SAME FONT

finally. finally

I go on motorsport.com

which is actually kind of not super user friendly interface finding their pics if you have excessive intelligence like I do. I go into this knowing if the bahrain 2012 long shot is actually NOT when that picture is from, I'm fucked.

I filter and say a prayer.

and lo and behold.

salvation.

one person's singular tag of 'bahrain 2012 lol' led me down this spiral, where if it wasn't for that bit of information this would be lost forever because finding the version of the pic without the meme text is otherwise near impossible. google reverse search is no help, and f1 drivers simply get photographed way too much. reblogs + tags with context literally are a holy grail. this is what I imagine archaeologists feel like. so if you ever want someone 12 years after you've posted something to go down finding out, tag your posts accordingly (assuming tumblr survives the next decade)

so why did I do it? why did I spend hours of my life on this? cause it's fun. it's like a mystery and it itches at my skin. many times I'm not successful which is why the times I am feels so rewarding because it feels almost like detective work, finding and refinding something, overturning evidence. and I have a brain that just functions Like This.

and now for the fruit of my labour, if you guys still want to see. the picture I spent hours to find the original version of. sitting proudly at the time of posting at 9 notes 😌😌 here's what goes behind actually finding and archiving 2010s retired f1 drivers online. click below!

👇👇👇

👆👆👆

#welcome to my dark twisted evil mind #if you read the whole thing... I hope u shared this journey with me. kiss! #the effort behind a stupid shitpost lol. this is what nobody sees #nico rosberg

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // epilogue

summary: a few years later...

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

here it is :) the epilogue :)

(i'm crying, could you tell??) i figured it was time to post this now that we've officially entered the overlapping requiem/michigan cherry era. tbh i was just afraid to let these two go bc i love them so much.

thank you all again SO so much for all the love on this fic. it has truly meant everything to me that so many people came on this actual JOURNEY with me, i never intended this to be so long but here we are.

anyway, stick around for requiem!! and i hope you loved this if you made it this far!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You were all dressed up in one of your finest gowns, attending the gala that preceded the presidential election.

Coriolanus was running, of course, and you were so incredibly proud. He's worked toward this for years, and you had been there every step of the way since the tenth annual Hunger Games, all those years ago. It felt like a distant memory- albeit one that still haunted you regularly.

You were a whole new person. A Capitol citizen most of the year, and you were happy most of the time. You and Coryo had always gone home in the summers, though, to spend your days surrounded by friends and family under the District Twelve sun. You always looked forward to it, but three months never felt like quite enough time. You missed your old life, but that's all it could be now.

While some Capitol elite was talking your ear off about the upcoming games, that's all you can think about. Well, how after the election that your boyfriend would most certainly win, those summers of peace would be a thing of the past. It was hard to think about, which is why you focussed on how you could work around it. Perhaps you would make smaller visits throughout the year- although Coryo was prepping you for the endless tasks that would even be put onto you as the First Lady of Panem. Once he wins the election, he would propose- and it would be followed by the wedding of the century. You didn't know if you dreaded it or if the pressure of it all just scared you beyond what excitement could repair.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted and you hum in response, bringing the champagne glass to your lips, acting like you were paying attention the whole time.

"Yes?" You respond as you lower your glass. "My apologies, I just spaced out for a moment there. It's a big day, after all..." You chuckle to recover, tilting your head slightly at them.

"I was just asking if you had any input in the arena for the next Games, if you could give us any hints." The man asks, seemingly impatient with you getting distracted.

"Oh," You reply, smile fading softly. "No, I- I really try to stay out of all of that." You laugh nervously, gripping tighter onto the glass as you take another sip, relieved when you feel someone's hand on your arm.

"Y/N, come sit. Coriolanus's speech is about to start, he got me to save you a seat at my table." Sejanus says, linking his arm with yours.

You politely excuse yourself from the conversation and allow him to pull you away. "Many thanks." You whisper to him, chuckling slightly as you glance back over your shoulder at the older man you were speaking to. "Some people are so tone-deaf, aren't they?"

"Most definitely." He sighs, shaking his head as he guides you toward his table at the front of the banquet hall, close to the stage. "Apparently that will never change."

Sejanus Plinth was your saving grace all these years, that, however, had never changed. You didn't see him as much anymore, with you being locked up in your office in the Snow penthouse focused on writing book after book until you were burnt out. His role as a doctor in and out of the Districts certainly didn't help either, but you knew he was partial to working back home in Twelve so he could spend more time with Lucy Gray. You were glad he was much more fulfilled in his adult life than you were; you always knew he would do well and you were proud. You had to take moments every so often to remind yourself that when you first met him and Coryo, you had been sad that you wouldn't get to see the men they would become but you had wondered. Now, you had your answers.

"Is that not the truth." You scoff under your breath, smiling and giving a quick wave to a few familiar faces as you pass. You had become somewhat of a people-pleasing expert, the same way Coriolanus had.

You sit down at the table at the front of the room just as the lights slightly dim, and the spotlight hits the stage. You gently cross one leg over the other, careful not to wrinkle your dress and clap in just the perfect polite way you had learned how to over the years, smiling as you see Coryo walk up onto the stage.

He waves, and people whistle and clap, and the smile on his face seems a little more genuine than it normally is during these speeches. Of course, though, this is his final address before he no doubt gets voted in as president, and you know that he is excited.

"Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight..." He says, in a subtle cue to get people to quiet down so he could speak, a drink still in his hand that he delicately hovers above the podium next to him. "This has been such an incredible opportunity for both of us running, and I must say, it's been fun." He tips the glass toward the other table at the front, and your eyes follow the movement to the other candidate, your friend and former classmate, Hilarius Heavensbee. They've never gotten along, and you know Hilarius wants nothing to do with this job. Not really. It makes you sad, a little bit, that his family would push him this far when he had confided in you in his freshman year that it wasn't what he wanted.

The man just gives Coryo a polite but nervous smile, taking another sip out of his own champagne glass. From where you were, you could see his hand trembling. You knew he would have to go next, and Coriolanus Snow was always a tough act to follow.

"Now, I am very happy about this turnout, because I have two important announcements to make." He continues, and whispers fill the room. You look over at Sejanus, a slight look of shock on your face. You didn't know he had anything special to announce, and he always kept you in the loop on everything. Sejanus just shrugs, looking back up at Coryo again. It must not actually be a big deal- it was probably just thanking some more people who have donated to his campaign.

"Firstly," He clears his throat, taking a step to the side as the screen behind him lights up. "For just a moment, see me as your head game maker and forget all about me running for president. Or don't, actually, maybe keep that in mind, but at the back of your mind." He chuckles, the little joke making the audience laugh. He was much more personable now than he once was, you smile a little as you remember helping him write his earlier speeches in a way that would make him more likable. "With the help of my fellow candidate and personal good friend, we are trying something new when it comes to The Hunger Games."

When he speaks, your heart drops and you sit up a little straighter- feeling all eyes on you as you just focus on him. For the first time, he looks down at you and gives you a small smile, the slightest nod in an effort to reassure you that it wasn't as scary as it sounded. You swallow and just keep your smile on as best as you can, ignoring all the stares.

"So, we all love The Games. They're exciting, the stakes are high, and I know every year we all pick our favourite tributes to root for and it's hard to watch them fall but, god, do I know better than anyone how good it feels when they win." Your cheeks burn intensely as Coryo sends a smile and a wink your way, and the screen behind him flashes to a picture of the two of you, taken after your shared university graduation just a couple of years ago. You were both smiling, but he was looking at you as he held you tight around your waist, and you looked into the camera and held up a three-finger salute. People are laughing and awe-ing at the photo of the two of you, and you laugh nervously, looking over at Sejanus with slightly panicked eyes.

You would be absolutely fine with this if he had just run it by you before, and you knew that whether you liked it or not, the Games were an integral part of who you were now, and always would be- but you certainly didn't want your name on anything to do with these new changes they're making. But, he wouldn't be talking about you at all if he knew you would hate it. You had to remind yourself of that.

"So, you all know my beautiful Y/N, of course, we're all big fans of hers here," Coryo says, gesturing to where you were sitting and you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head at him in a way that would appear teasing to everyone else while he waits for everyone to finish clapping for you. "Don't get embarrassed already, darling, I've got a bit more to say about you so just sit tight, okay? Nothing bad, I promise." He says to you, looking into your eyes even as he stands up on the stage, everyone's laughter echoing in the background.

"So, I have known Y/N and her outstanding mind for years now. The Games are what brought us together when we were both just kids, but you all already know that story so I'll spare you the details. The bottom line is, I am so proud of the woman she has become. She's written two books that will soon become three, she graduated in the top three percent of our class with only a District education to build on, and she is the single most well-spoken, well-mannered, beautiful, and caring woman I have ever met. Truly, she has changed my entire outlook on life." He says, talking more so to the audience than to you, knowing that you're so embarrassed by this. And he would be correct. "It has truly been a privilege to know her, and to love her."

"But that was a long journey for us both, and a seemingly endless uphill battle for her recovery, despite her strength. The Games can be scary, let's be totally honest. It's life or death, and winning will change you, but Y/N came out the other side and wanted to make a difference for her family and that inspired me. And she continues to inspire me every day." Coryo says, pausing to take a sip of his champagne again. "So, all of this is to say, I'd like to thank her for all her support through my education, this campaign, and through the life we're building together. She inspired this idea in me and with the help of my fellow game makers as well as the Plinth family..." You look over at Sejanus as he continues, suddenly realizing he must have known about what was happening. He keeps a small smile on his lips as he watches, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"This," Coryo says, turning to look up at the screen while a picture comes up of a small cul-de-sac of beautiful homes. "Is just the beginning of the Victor's Rehabilitation Initiative."

You tilt your head, a shocked and confused smile on your face as you take in the photo and try to decipher what he's talking about.

"So, recently, Y/N has been more open with everyone about the struggles that came with being crowned a victor in our Games. Yes, they get to walk away with their lives, but what if winning meant something more? What if it meant security for them and their families, so they're not returning to their Districts with no sense of what to do next? That, everyone, is what this program is for. To help the strongest of them find a purpose again, and to encourage the bravest of Panem's children to get back on their feet after such an impressive feat as winning the Games."

You have to very consciously force your jaw to stay shut when you realize what he is saying, clapping along with everyone else while your smile relaxes into something more genuine. You knew that he wanted to abolish the Games altogether, and you knew that no matter who won the election, they wouldn't proceed for much longer. This was the first step in that direction, and you were flooded with emotions. Pride, excitement, relief.

"For ten years, until the beginning of the mentorship program, our victors were cast aside. Never to be heard from again after their win, I, for one, became curious as to what happened to them after the Games as soon as I met Y/N, and I have heard that question from many of you as well since we were all given the pleasure of getting to know her." Coryo's smile is one of pride and excitement, sparing a glance at you as he allows the audience to have their responses. So far, all seemingly positive despite the present undertones of him caring about the people in the Districts. He was a smooth talker, he knew exactly how to command a space and get people to believe what he wanted. And he was using it for good. "I mean, how many other victors have something extraordinary, just like her, that won't be utilized or nurtured? We never knew."

"From now on," He continues, the crowd quieting down. "Our victors will be given homes in what we've decided to call Victor's Villages in each of the Twelve Districts. They'll have ensured security for themselves and their families, and a generous sum of prize money to help them with whatever they need. Whether that's medical attention, both physical and emotional, or, if they so choose, when they reach the appropriate age, they could apply at our university to further their education. Though, between you and I, admittance is not guaranteed." He winks at the end and it's accompanied by laughter, which you try and go along with, but you're too close to tears to even process fully what was going on. This was a huge step in the right direction, even if like he said, acceptance was not guaranteed. "What I mean, is that it will be up to them. They can live their lives to the fullest, just like our gem, Y/N."

He looks at you again, and you can really only see his blurry form through your tears until someone is handing you a handkerchief to dry your eyes while people clap and cheer over the idea.

This was something you couldn't have imagined years ago. This was everything you've wanted since the Games- to make a difference, for people to care. And it was happening right before your eyes. Thanks to him. Thanks to you.

"And with that," Coryo says after a few moments, waiting for the crowd to quiet down after taking in your reaction. "We can move on to my second announcement, which is my formal withdrawal from the presidential campaign."

Gasps fill the room and your smile disappears, a hand coming up to your mouth as you look up at him, shocked and confused with the announcement that blindsided even you.

"Are you happy here?" You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the evening as you walk from your parent's house back to your own in the Victor's Village.

"I couldn't be happier." Coryo replies through a soft sigh, swinging your hand gently as it's clasped between you.

"Are you sure?" You say again, feeling a little uncertain despite weeks of his endless reassurance that this was, in fact, what he wanted.

To him, this scenario was perfect. He could keep his job as head gamemaker, planning to only return to the Capitol for a few months or so every year for the Games. He knew that wouldn't last much longer, though, not with Hilarius Heavensbee in office. Coryo gives it a few years and a few major "accidental" mistakes on his part for the viewership of the annual event to die out and open the door for the president to call them off, just like he had always wanted to.

And every day Coryo would wake up to see you in your happy place, the only place you'd ever felt truly at home. He was more than happy to give it all up for the greatest sake of seeing you smile.

"Of course." He smiles, never growing tired of telling you the same thing over and over again if it meant he could ease your mind.

The moonlight bounces off his in a way that makes you think it could be glowing if you didn't know any better.

"I told you that I would be. Years ago. You remember?"

"Of course I remember."

He lets out a breathy laugh at your reply, shaking his head. "That was a foolish question. I don't think you've ever forgotten a single word anyone has ever spoken to you."

"Sure I have." You say, tilting your head as you look up at him, trying to catch the same moonlight reflect in the blue of his eyes as you walk down the path. "I just don't forget... the important bits."

"I will try my best to take care of you while you're here."

"My honest, best advice? Figure out a way to escape."

"I can't have killed them all for nothing."

"You are not a beast."

"Please, don't walk away again."

"I survived because I had to learn to love you."

"Like in your books?" His voice interrupts the swirling of speech from years past, and you shrug.

"Not exactly... it feels different. Because I can hear it, still." You explain, voice dropping into something more quiet as the remnants of your fear eats away at the back of your mind, the cold night breeze imprinting your skin.

"God, the way your mind works, love." He says, and as you look up at him to be met with an expression of pride that always changes everything. "You amaze me every day."

You stay quiet, cheeks getting hot as you look back down at the path.

"Are you happy?" Coryo asks after a moment, eyes never daring to leave your profile as you walk next to him, hardly more than a silhouette in the dark. But certainly more than a ghost, now.

"I am." You reply, the smile creeping back onto your lips. "Such hours are beautiful to live, but hard to describe..."

He hums softly in response. That was a yes, but also a no in the most you fashion possible. His heart remains heavy in his chest knowing that there is nothing more he can do for you to help you heal besides be present. "Is there anything more I can do?" He asks anyway, hoping that maybe you would come up with something.

You shake your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile laced with reassurance.

"Well, then..." He sighs, rather dramatically. "I did have an idea, you know, something that might make you happy. Even just for this one beautiful hour."

You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand a bit. "If that was you asking me if we could-"

"I would like to marry you." He says, for the first time ever, not feeling guilty about interrupting you.

You stop in your tracks, and he stops with you instantly as if he were waiting for it, his hold on your hand not faltering for a second.

"I... you-"

"Darling," He starts, stepping in front of you now, blocking out the moon but hardly putting a dent in the presence of the stars over his shoulders, their soft light reflecting off his blonde curls. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you."

Your shock and confusion begins to wear off as he speaks the familiar words, and you laugh softly. "In your own words, Coryo."

He tilts his head at you, clearly not having expected that kind of response. He expected a lot of things. He planned for everything that could go wrong, he prepared for rejection, for tears, panic, even, but he did not expect that. "I, uh..." He chuckles nervously, giving his head a quick shake to get himself back on track.

He had read that play just for you. Just for this- because he knew how much you loved it, and he remembered the joy it brought you. The smile on your face when you told him about it that day at the lake had never left his mind.

"If you ask me in your own words, I shall say yes." You assure him, hands gripping tighter onto his despite your surprisingly calm demeanor.

"I thought you would like that... You know, knowing you..."

He's quick to defend himself, and your eyes almost sparkle as you look up into his own. "We should have learned by now that our story is our own, yes?" You ask. "We are not Beatrice and Benedick, or Laurie and Amy, or even Romeo and Juliet, just like I used to think we were supposed to be when my days were numbered. I thought I wanted one of those stories to be mine at least once before I died, but I was wrong." You say, taking in the embarrassed flush of his cheeks even in the dim lighting. "You are you, and I am me. No matter what you say I will be happy to marry you, so long as you ask me yourself, and not as someone else."

"Alright then." He gives you a curt nod, a smile on his face as he lowers himself in front of you, careless of the dirt that would no doubt cake into the knee of his pants. "You're everything to me, Y/N/N. My world... my heart, my soul. I didn't know what love was until I met you. I've spent the entirety of my adult life learning to love you, and I never intend to stop. Not even for a moment, so please, let me marry you, love."

"A Coryo indeed." You say softly, recalling the first day you had met him- when you only knew him as Coriolanus, and how far you both had come since then. The growing smile on your lips twitches and you nod, holding his hand a little tighter and attempting to pull Coryo back to his feet. "Of course I will. Nothing would make me happier."

He stands again and very quickly his arms are around you, holding you just as tight as they always had.

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#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction #thg tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg fanfic #thg series #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #coryo x you #coryo #coryo fluff

[gyjo-enthusiast]

special case. ch.3

retired!nanami x younger!sorcerer!reader

summary: during field training, each student is assigned one semi-grade 1 or higher ranked sorcerer. after the last student is left without a mentor, her professor pairs her up with his old, retired grumpy friend.

reader is in their 20s (attending college), afab!reader, fem pronouns

tags: fluff, eventual smut, colleagues with benefits (is that a thing?), age gap (reader in early 20s, nanami in mid 30s), virgin reader

previous chapter: special case. ch.2 | next chapter: to be finished

jujutsu kaisen masterlist | masterlist

chapter summary: after taking up the offer to spend a whole week at your mentor's place, you pack your things and talk through dinner together.

proofread: yes

word count: 2883 (9m)

song rec:

"are you sure it's not going to bother you?" you look at your shoes, sheating both weapons. after nanami's proposal to spend a week at his place, you tensed up, naturally.

"goodness gracious," his hand flew up to his temples, indicating irritation, "i gave you the option, of course it's not going to be a problem." turning his back to you, the blonde started walking away.

"of course if you do not want to, you don't have to," he said, mindful of how this could seem to others. "but i doubt that your classmates are all going back to dorms every single day."

"you think so?" you pondered for a while, coming to a conclusion of staying with your mentor. "okay, but i'll still have to get some spare clothes."

"go ahead and get them. i will text you my address, if anything happens, just let me know," you exchanged numbers before parting ways.

a few minutes later, your phone dinged with a notification of nanami's text consisting of his address and a question: "do you have any allergies? i'm going to make dinner." your face was redder than the sweetest strawberry reading that. wanting to keep cool, you texted back a simple "no allergies, but i don't like raw tomatoes. thank you so much:)"

thankfully you were left on read, you don't think you'd be able to handle a friendly conversation with your mentor. your very handsome mentor at that. your very handsome mentor who was preparing dinner for you two.

you couldn't hide the little smile that took shape on your lips, speeding up slightly. you wanted to be done with those obnoxious stairs to school and unwind after a long day.

as if nanami knew exactly what was going on, almost nobody was staying at the school dorms. quickly, you shuffled your feet towards the second to last door on the floor, unlocking and shutting the piece of old wood behind you.

you picked up your favourite backpack and started filling it up with clothes. checking the things off of your mental checklist: pjs, underwear, comfy clothes, spare uniform, your favourite plushie and more boring stuff like toothpaste and toothbrush.

you were practically sprinting out of your room, when your phone dinged again. this time, it was a notification from your class group chat. as if it was a sign from god himself, you realised you need your charger. you silently thanked yuuji for sending so many unnecessary selfies and finally closed the door. locking it twice, you briskly left the vicinity of your school and tried to find nanami's address on a map.

before you knew it, you descended the school stairs and went into the town without ever finding where his house is located, so you decided to focus on your surroundings for a bit to find out where you even are.

"to my left is a.." looking left, you saw an old bus station, which you tried to locate on the map. "a bus station.."

where the hell is it?!

"okay to my right is a theater, that should be easier to find," you hopelessly scrolled on your phone to find out where you are and where nanami's house is. "it should be easier to find, right?" you started to panic when you couldn't find anything around you on the map.

you were as lost as on your first day in tokyo, maybe even more. you knew you should text your mentor to let him know, but how could you? this is more embarrassing than not being able to exorcise a low-level grade curse.

realising that this is pointless, you gave in and started to look for nanami's number in your contacts.

but of course, as if he was telepathic, he called you before you could even dial his number.

"y/n? are you okay?" he said overly harsh, as if he was afraid something might have happened.

you sighed and eventually answered, "yes, sir. i'm.. i'm lost." you expected a scolding but it never came.

"lost? as in you already got your things but can't find the address? or you never went back to dorms?" nanami softened his tone, relieved that it's nothing serious.

"i can't find the address. i'm sorry," you apologised, guilty for being so troublesome.

"it's okay, just describe where you are, yeah?" he sounded entirely different now, like a concerned friend more than a mentor.

"um, well i can see an old bus station, it looks like it's not being used anymore, there's not a name of the station anywhere. there's also a theater on the opposite side," you paused for a second before finishing your thought, "it's like a crossroad if that makes sense? also i can't see anybody."

"y/n," nanami called out to you flatly, "don't go anywhere, alright?" you heard shuffling on the other side of the phone. "i think i know where you are so just wait there."

"can you not just tell me in which direction to go, sir?" you asked timidly, not wanting to be a burden.

"it's okay, the streets there are complicated to navigate through so this is easier. i'll be there in a minute." and with that, he ended the call and you were left in the empty streets, waiting.

a few minutes went by and you saw the first person to pass through here. as he made his way towards you and you could see him more clearly, you knew that without mistake, it was nanami.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or even more stressed, because he had to come for you like for a kindergartener. you slowly approached him and sheepishly smiled.

"i'm sorry sir, i'm still not used to tokyo," you excused yourself, as if it was good enough to make him come all the way here.

"don't worry about it, for now, let's go eat dinner. i'll tell you about this place later," he put a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that it was not a big deal.

as you made your way through the streets, you suddenly understood nanami about the complicated layout of the town. if he was to just navigate you, it would do more harm than good.

it was really just a few minutes until you were at nanami's place. he unlocked the door to his apartment and led you to his bedroom.

"since i don't have a spare room, you can sleep here if you don't mind," he gestured towards his king-sized bed. your worried gaze fell upon him as he explained, "i will sleep on the couch, don't worry."

"no, i can't do that," you instantly protested, not wanting to compromise his comfort. "i'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in your bed," you beamed at him, leaving for the living room.

"it's okay y/n, there's plenty of room on the couch for me to sleep on, if that's what you're worried about," he ignored your statement and stood infront of you. "i've fallen asleep there many times."

"but this is just rude of me, first i can't find your address and then i take your bed?" you sadden a bit, backing away from nanami.

"don't forget that i was the one who suggested this," he crosses his arms and looks down at your small form. "sleeping on the couch is my responsibility as well. at least for this week."

he was taking this very seriously, you wanted to argue once more. you looked up at him, ready to take the couch for yourself, but you stopped yourself. it's not as if his stern gaze alone put you in your place. no, he looked completely different when he wasn't working.

hair slightly falling into his face, forearms exposed (courtesy of his rolled up sleeves), the first two buttons of his shirt undone and glasses discarded. his eyes watched you as you observed him, waiting to see if you'll still protest or not.

after a while, you surrenderred and went to his bedroom. "whatever, but don't complain if your back hurts tomorrow. don't forget that i wanted you on the bed!"

"what?" nanami looks at you, confused.

"w-what?" you repeat after him, confused as well. with a sigh, he softly closes your door and leans against the wall.

"change into something more comfortable and come eat. i hope you're not going to run around in your uniform all day," the blonde then walks away to give you some sort of privacy.

you have to admit, you weren't the best with wording, at least he understood that. you hope. it's amazing how he can brush past that situation and go eat. at the same table with you nonetheless.

you were blushing like crazy just remembering the situation, but what makes matters worse was your choice of clothing. it was particularly hot during this time, so you decided to pack just some shorts that were laying around and a shirt that may be too small for you. that shirt was practically a crop-top now.

looking at your new outfit, you seriously thought that maybe being in your school uniform was better after all. you tried to shove all the inappropriate thoughts away as you awkwardly waddled towards the dining area, careful not to show any more skin than necessary.

nanami was still turned towards the counter, and you hoped he could stay like that while you ate and also went back to his bedroom.

"have you ever been to korea? or had korean food?" he suddenly asked, making you jump in your seat.

"no.." you simply answered before elaborating, "but i'd like to try it one day, why?"

"then i'm sorry you have to try it with me first. i made bibimbap for dinner," he explains, head half-tilted towards your direction. "it's not as authentic, but i like it," turning to you, he brings out a bunch of small bowls with vegetables, mushrooms and some sort of sauce, "and it doesn't contain any tomatoes."

"no it's okay! i'm sorry to be of any trouble regarding food," you apologise, smiling as he remembers you don't like tomatoes. "you didn't have to make something so big though."

"don't worry, if you weren't here, i would simply eat the rest tomorrow," he plainly stated, bringing two more huge bowls filled with food.

"wow, it smells great," you noted quietly.

"thank you," he smiled softly, explaining the dish, "it's basically a rice bowl with vegetables and meat on top. i didn't want to bother with the eggs so there aren't any, but usually you do them sunny side up. in the small bowls you serve kimchi and gochujang sauce, as well as more vegetables."

"that's amazing, it looks easy to make as well," you look at all the food on the table, "except cutting the vegetables." you laugh quietly, still mesmerised.

"it looks easy, but you have to manage a few things at once. i can give you the recipe if you want to try it out sometime," nanami suggests, making your eyes light up.

"really? i'd like that very much!" you smile at him, a gesture which he returns.

"of course. now let's eat before the rice gets cold," the man in front of you picks up his chopsticks and you mirror his action.

you both eat in silence, enjoying the foreign dish, before a thought pops into your mind. it's that crossroad, where there wasn't a soul to be seen. it seemed like nanami knew about it and you couldn't help but be curious about it.

swallowing your bite, you anxiously asked, "sir?" getting his attention, you continued. "can you tell me about the place where i got lost?"

nanami thickly swallowed before answering. "it's an abandoned part of town, mainly because people who go there disappear and don't come back," he raised an eyebrow at you, "i think you can imagine why that is."

"cursed spirits?" you meekly ask.

"an unseen amount, yes. the jujutsu sorcerers can't regulate them properly. it seems to be a huge area that attracts them," he explains, looking irritated.

"that's horrible, even more so that they can't find out why it's happening," you ponder about it for a while, but let it go eventually. still, it's going to be stuck in your head.

finishing your food, you stood up to help with the dishes before you were stopped.

"it's alright, y/n. i'll do the dishes, you should rest," nanami sounds out from behind you, collecting the small bowls.

"you should be the one resting, sir. i should do it, you're the one who made such an amazing meal after all," you try to protest again, however this time, nanami just doesn't have the strenght to put up with it.

"then you wash them and i will dry them and put them away, is that fine?" he sighed.

"okay then, but only because i don't know where to put them once i'm done!"

as you start to wash the dirty dishes, nanami stands right beside you. that's when it dawns upon you that you still only have your short tee and shorts on. embarrassed, you fixate your eyes onto the sink and try to forget about your poor choice of clothing.

your mentor of course noticed your outfit but tried to be professional about it. whenever you would finish up washing a dish and hand it over, nanami's fingers would brush over yours in the slightest. it was driving you crazy and you soon started to shiver, even though your hands were under the warm water and your ears were red hot.

"y/n?" the aforementioned man spoke up to you, "are you cold?"

oh, this was a nightmare. "no i'm okay!" you straightened up, trying to keep as still as possible but your body was not taking orders from you anymore.

"you're shivering, is the water cold?" he looked over to you as you nervously smiled. "why are you wearing shorts if you're cold? and such a short shirt," it felt almost as if he was scolding you.

"it's okay, sir, i'm not cold, it's just a shirt that was lying around, i was packing up so quickly i didn't realise," you tried to laugh it off but before you opened your eyes, the man disappeared. shortly after he came back with one of his own shirts and set it down on the other side of the counter.

"it's okay, you can have this one for the time being," he patted your back, took a small bowl and started drying it. not wanting this to be more embarrassing than it already was, you let out a small "thank you" before finishing up the dishes.

heading towards the bathroom to shower and change the godforsaken shirt, he called for you one more time.

"do you want to watch the tv before you go to sleep? i don't have one in my bedroom."

"if you wouldn't mind, then yes," you quickly showered and went back to the living room.

"just put on anything you'd like, i'm going to take a shower," you heard nanami's voice from around the corner before hearing the door close.

"thank you, sir!" you shouted back at him and went to find the remote, stealing nanami's blanket before he comes back.

turning on the tv and finding netflix, you had no idea what to watch. you felt like nothing was interesting and whatever was, you already saw six times. seeing a new crime tv show, you put it on only to be fast asleep after half an episode.

nanami took his time, letting you watch whatever you were watching, but before long he couldn't endure the scorching heat of the shower and came out. finally changing into his casual clothes, he heard gunshots and arguments on the tv. sighing, he made his way to the living room, only to find you sleeping on the couch, remote still in hand.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, not believing the situation. nevertheless, he slowly approached the couch and tried waking you up. to no avail.

"y/n, hey wake up," he shook with you slightly, whispering so you wouldn't be in too much of a shock once you wake up. "y/n!" he whisper-shouted at you a few times, which was obviously also not doing anything.

"i can't believe this kid," he whispered to himself, wrapping you in his blanket more. he then picked you up bridal style and slowly made his way to his bedroom, trying not to stumble.

finally setting you down on his bed, he was prepared to take the other blanket from the bed and leave, when a small hand tugged at his sleeve.

"y/n?" he whispered, not sure whether you were awake by now or not.

when you didn't respond, he decided you were sleeping, so he should go too. that's when your hand tugged at his sleeve again, and he noticed small tears rolling down your cheeks.

his heart skipped a beat at that, but he decided that this wasn't right, and ultimately swiped your tears with his thumb and left. without a blanket at that.

he couldn't believe you slept through all of that. maybe a new student was just what he needed in life.

got a bit of a writer's block but we're so back. i think i might just rewatch jjk for this man(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

#nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #Spotify

[spotaus]

Everyone say hello to DreamEater AU's very own Dream! (And Fresh!) Otherwise known as Tulpa!

This AU is technically a Dream × Fresh ship story, but honestly it could be taken as Platonic because I view them both as aroace kings 👌. (This is alao Extremely self-indulgent lmao-) I'm gonna put more under the cut + close-ups but what is important is:

Dream is badly injured by Dust and ends up in a random AU after a messy retreat from battle. Fresh stumbles across him in need of a new host and attempts to take over Dream. Dream isn't a normal monster though, and he fights the hostile take-over. His soul doesn't decay like a normal monster's when Fresh feeds, so they end up coming to an agreement to share the body while Dream heals.

SO!!!

The DreamEater au comes from an idea I had years ago. Dream is injured, and it leaves him badly paralyzed while he recovers. In the old concept Fresh just nursed him back to health. In the DreamEater AU, Fresh is actively using Dream's unique vessel to his own advantage. It's like finding a body that fits him like a glove, and so he's content to just keep it. Until, of course, Dream becomes conscious again.

Fresh successfully takes Dream's body for a week or so before Dream is lucid again as a soul, and he tries to reason with Fresh to give him back control. He explains what happened and why he needs to get back. Fresh explains that he's going to keep being a parasite and no way he's giving up the perfect body. It's a long back and forth before Fresh relents and let's Dream take control again, only for him to collapse. Dream can't feel anything from his neck down due to where he'd been injured.

Fresh takes over again, and Dream just kinda lingers along with Fresh, staying in the passenger's seat of the body. He is stressed and worried but knows now that it'll take ages for him to heal anyways. By letting Fresh roam he can see the state of the multiverse at least.

And as things go on, the balance keeps tipping. Farther and farther in Night's direction. It's palpable. Then one night Fresh talks with Dream. It's small-talk, but it turns out he thinks Dream's soul will keep going forever if he can be around happy people. Dream explains that without him to do guardian work there are less abd less of those positive people to feed him so Fresh can keep going.

So, Fresh agrees to help Dream return to his duty, but only minimally since he's extremely injured.

Dream returns most of his wardrobe, and Fresh controls his body while Dream directs him and takes over control of his skull. Any weird actions are chalked up to recovering from his injury. Blue and Ink are thrilled to see him again. All is well for a bit, and though Fresh holds Dream back sometimes, he ends up actually being really good for Dream's mental health by not letting him overwork or stress about things he doesn't need to. Dream teaches Fresh how to use a bow, how to fight with a staff, etc. They become... friends? At least while they help eachother. Having Fresh tag along doesn't hurt Dream at all, and Fresh loves his free buffet of Dream.

Blue is the first one to notice Fresh, but he's not actively hurting Dream so he says nothing.

It's hinted when m, during a fight with NM's gang, someone curses and It's censored. Everyone is on edge because many of them don't like Fresh, and the bttle dispurses quickly afterwards.

It's revealed on a day that Dream is ambushed on an errand and Fresh takes forceful control so he can Fresh-Poof out of the way. Dream's Soul is shown in the other eyelight that's normally dark, and Fresh takes full control just to skate around the gang, teasing and evading them. Dream wasn't happy, but he was grateful after the fact. Everyone knew after that, and Dream started to agree that without it being a secret, Fresh could change up the wardrobe.

Eventually Dream heals almost fully. At that point, Fresh tries not to get involved with NM's conflicts. He also swaps in and out of control with Dream seamlessly throughout an average day. They become actual friends, talking over eachother and playfully swapping control. And eventually that becomes an agreed partnership. Ink doesn't approve of having Fresh around all the time, but he's Dream's closest companion besides Blue, so he stays.

Point is, they care a lot about eachother, even when they started out so tense. They keep eachother safe for selfish reasons, and for their bond.

#utmv #utmv sans #utmv oc #my art #spot!drawn #utmv au #Dreameater au #fresh x Dream #dream x fresh #sanscest #Tulpa #<- That's the nickname people use when they dunno which one is present. they both respond to it #Dream likes wearing Fresh's oversized bright clothes #dream sans #fresh sans #sans au #finally finished them! #I love 'em lol

[taesanluv3r]

chronicles of an overly in-love woonhak.

kim woonhak x reader

entirely in woonhak's pov (he's just yapping to himself the whole time), this is so dumb n stupid but i think it's silly cute idk 😓 cuss words!! lowercase intended, pls excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors <3 enjoy :3

wc: 1,401

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"relax woonhak, it's not that hard"

all i needed to do was make a move. seriously, how hard could it be? i mean it was easy to help riwoo make a move on the girl he liked, so why would it be hard for me to make a move on someone myself?

but of course, the difference was that riwoo was hitting on someone random from his dance class while i, little pathetic old kim woonhak, just had to have a crush on the ever-so untouchable, and insanely stunning…

yn fucking ln.

i mean she's like- way way way out of my league, right? the other day i confided in taesan, i always talk to him when i feel lost...well only when i'm lost in the thoughts of her. that's only cause she's rather close to him, they're like siblings who aren't related at all- i think it's pretty sweet. otherwise, i wouldn't ever confide in that menace.

but he knows her very well, and he knows me very well, it's the perfect combination. anyways, i told him about my feelings for her, how she absolutely drove me insane. i mean who wouldn't go insane? she's just so effortlessly...her, in a good way, of course. god nothing bad about her would ever come out of my mouth...she's just perfect.

okay maybe I'm lying, she can be a little stubborn and bitchy sometimes...but that's just another thing I can go on and on and on talking about. i'm always talking about her.

taesan laughed at me, he told me i was oblivious and delusional if i couldn't see that she felt the exact same way. i mean can you believe that? she feels the same?! about me?! about kim woonhak?!

i don't believe it for a second...okay, i lied again. the statement did fuel my stomach up with butterflies and make my head spin and cheeks flush and all that…jazz.

and then he said one thing, the one thing that's making me think about everything all over again.

"if you love her so much, make a move!"

and so now here i am, sitting in bed at one o' clock in the morning. only eight hours until i have to go to school. which means that i only have eight hours to construct the most perfect plan to finally make my move. i mean how hard could it be? it's just like chess! not that i'm good at chess, i actually kinda suck at it…

"ugh cut it out woonhak, you're wasting your time!"

she probably doesn't even like me back. maybe she's just as nice as she is to me with everyone else. and surely that drawing she made me was just a friendly gift! and of course the poems she sent me were probably drafts for someone else…though she did send one with my name in it once…

wait.

wait a fucking minute.

SHE PROBABLY DOES LIKE ME BACK?!

OKAY, okay calm down woonhak. no need to get your hopes up too unecessarily high…

this does give me confidence though, just keep thinking positively and make your move at school FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!

"i got this!"

maybe i lied a little to my reflection in the mirror whilst getting ready for school this morning. cause she was right there when i arrived, alone and ready for me to go tell her I love her, but fear got the best of me…as per usual.

so now i'm here, in fucking science class having to listen to professor lee rant about whatever problem he had with lamarck's theory as opposed to darwin's. interesting one though, i know yn has a real interest in the theory of evolution and just about everything else biology related- maybe not plant biology, she didn't look too happy when we were told we're gonna study plant science next week.

just as i started thinking about her all over again, a piece of paper struck my head from behind. it landed in between my back and my chair, not very comfortable. i turned to reach for it, checking out whoever threw it at me as i did so.

yn ln shoots her unique smile at me, her lips tilting crookedly. she never smiled with her teeth because she doesn't quite like how it looks. i strongly disagree, i think it's adorable when her uneven fangs show, it's just another peculiar thing i get to love about her.

i stare too long, too long that she has to raise her eyebrows to remind me of the paper i was supposed to retrieve from behind me and read. my cheeks were probably redder than the ripest of strawberries- ironically, her favourite fruit.

the page was off-white, a cute rilakkuma print bordering the lined-sheet…classic yn ln and her cutesy stationary. i couldn't help but smile as i opened it to find her neat, yet absurdly tiny handwriting.

i admired it for a second, not quite reading the actual note just yet, but once i did…

the ink was pink, one of the gel-pens she usually used to write her overly pretty notes for literature. and the words she scribbled on the page were simple. well, as simple as such a complex and interesting girl like her could ever get.

"hi woonhak, i like you. like a lot. see you under the bleachers at lunch. :) <3 ★"

not even a question. if it weren't for the doodles of hearts, smiley faces, and stars all over the note i would've deemed it a threat.

another lie. i should stop lying. she could tell me to throw myself off a cliff or threaten me with a knife and i'd still be flustered and in love.

the lunch bell came a lot sooner than i calculated. perhaps my brain had been overstimulated by the test i had just finished, or maybe time is just that unpredictable when you're anxious.

i desperately needed to piss- another lie that i told myself to postpone the possible embarrassment i might encounter with my crush under the bleachers today. fuck. why am i so nervous?

i decided it's best to just YOLO and speed over to her usual spot under the bleachers. what's the worst that could happen? you know...besides her revealing it was all a prank and then totally making fun of me!!!!!!! ha ha...ha...

i'm cooked.

she was already there, a slight worry on her face as if she had been waiting and wondering where i had been. i was about to mutter an apology for being late, saying i needed to go to the bathroom and such but she didn't let me talk.

"i know you like me, woonhak"

at this point i was shitting sweat.

"um-"

i was interrupted.

"you took too long to say anything and frankly, i got impatient. cause i like you too- like- a lot. lol"

lol, she ended every serious sentence with that abbreviation to lighten the mood- cute.

all i could do was chuckle in relief.

"can we kiss now?"

she asks, her words coming out a little stale and hasty, but sweet. in a way that made my heart break and melt into bits and pieces. who am i kidding though, she does anything and i'll melt into bits and pieces.

"yeah-"

her lips halted my chatter. she tastes like an odd mixture of banana milk and…honey garlic fried chicken- but it tasted kind of good...?

remind me to ask her where she got her lunch from cause...damn.

the kiss lasted longer than i would've earlier expected, her hands were in my hair and mine held her waist. i had to bend down a little, she's not that short but she's definitely not tall. not as tall as me, that is.

alas we seperated. she giggled softly and i can see a faint pink tint brushed against her cheeks as she caught her breath. then she looked up at me, with the most precious set of eyes. it didn't last long as her complexion changed completely in a matter of seconds before these words left her mouth:

"ask me out, loser"

and that's just the push i needed.

"yn ln, be my girlfriend and take me to whatever place you got the fried chicken your lips tasted like!"

she giggled again- i swear a braincell of mine disappears every time she so much as smiled- stepping forward to hug me, which i happily accepted by the way…she smells good. she smells like a...fresh...teddy bear? yeah.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i can't believe you actually like me back" i blurted out, watching as she stuck a chicken wing into her mouth. the sauce got on her face and i helped her wipe it off like the gentleman that i am.

"and i can't believe you confided in taesan, of all people!" her words were muffled as she chewed.

"whatever babe, now why don't you eat first and talk later"

she almost chokes as she stares at me with this bewildered look on her face. how could a person be so adorable? like? this???? this cutie??? SHES my girlfriend???!!!???

she speaks with half a drumstick in her mouth and her eyes were opened wide.

"DID YOU JUST CALL ME BABE?!"

lol.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

LMAOOO idek wht i was going for in this one 😭 i pulled this straight out of my drafts tbh </3 reblogs n feedbacks r vv appreciated!! love u tysm for reading. love, kona.

#kona's work ♡ #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #woonhak #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor woonhak #bnd x reader #bnd woonhak #kim woonhak

[libraford]

My Abuela didn't know who Marsha P Johnson was and very politely asked me on the meme I reblogged on faceboon who the pretty lady was. I was then able to explain to my almost 90 year old grandmother who this woman was and then some random guy who I think is friends with my Abuela went on a rant on how 'We', the gays, didn't need to ram Pride down his throat.

Like bro, I'm a bisexual, queer gender LGBT+ activist in my community. All I do on my Facebook is be a vocal fuck. You came into my house and complain? Blocked.

My poor Abuela apologized on his behalf. Nah Abuela, you don't apologize on behalf of stupid. You're good.

The 'ramming it down everyone's throat' phrase is so old and tired that wakes up with a backache in the morning.

When I first worked at parks, they put me in a car with a loudmouth. I make no secrets about my sexuality, but unless you get me talking about it the most people see is that I have a rainbow bag and I talk about my girlfriend.

The loudmouth brought Pride up first. He saw the bag and he started talking about Pride and how 'it used to be just a fun party but now its all political.'

I chose not to correct him.

And 'he's not homophobic- his sister is a lesbian.'

I chose not to say anything.

And 'he doesn't mind anyone being gay, but why does everyone gotta know?'

And so I told him:

"The reason that I come out to people on first meeting, and the reason why I make it known, and the reason I'm unapologetic about it- is because I have been fired before for my sexuality. And I would rather say it out loud and have people know and they can be quick about their decision rather than have to keep it a secret and risk losing a good job when they eventually find out."

And he got real quiet.

And then back in the breakroom he told everyone that I was 'ramming it down his throat.'

And I think about the language usage. It evokes sexual violence. That's what it is to them, I think. 'I can't look at a rainbow flag without thinking about sex.'

Well.

That's its own problem.

[heavenlymorals]

Why are you always trying to paint Arthur as a misogynist? When he clearly isn't??? I like your posts by why do you hyper fixate on stuff like that?

Hello anon and thanks for the ask.

Well, quite simply, I "paint" Arthur as someone who actively believes in and enforces gender roles because he does so in the game. It's a part of his writing and his character. The canon Arthur is NOTHING like how the fandom here on Tumblr portrays him as. That's also a reason why I started making these posts because I honestly hate when fanon becomes the accepted truth of characters and not the actual canon. It happens all the time.

I'm a very pragmatic person and this will show in my posts. I don't care about what characters COULD be and I focus more on what they ACTUALLY are. That's why my retrospective posts are usually looked at through a psychological, sociological, cultural, feminist, and/or literary point of view. I look at characters and learn things about them through their actions and words, as well as the time period that they are a part of. I do not care at all about making characters seem morally better, especially when it comes to historical attitudes because those historical attitudes aren't as historical as we make them out to be.

They still affect us every single day and only recently have we started pushing back- that's also not mentioning cultures where these attitudes are STILL encouraged, which then changes the way people think. Understanding historical attitudes allows us to understand not only our own cultures better, but people as well and why they do the things they do.

Now let's talk about Arthur. Arthur is a man born in 1863. Women couldn't even get a credit card by themselves without a man till 1974. To put it quite simply, he lived in a time era where women had almost 0 rights and those women who did succeed in life usually had some sort of male support. People supported this system, both male and female. Did you know that when the suffrage movement began, most American women didn't give a fuck because they believed that was men's duties, not their own? Point is is that even if Arthur is a lot more lenient regarding this stuff, he still actively believes in it because of how pungent it was in the society he lived in.

The first mission we have with the female gang members is heading to Valentine. The first thing he says to them is whether Miss Grimshaw could spare them from their domestic chores, already showing that in the gang, the girls' main duty is the domestic work and that Arthur supports this. Later in that mission, when he chases down Jimmy Brooks, he puts Uncle in charge of bringing them back home, even though he is an old ass man and they are three young, healthy, and capable women. In one mission, you got two examples of Arthur being an active encourager of gender roles.

And then there is Sadie- when she expresses her frustration over the work she has to do, he tries to shut her down. When she gets her pants, he mocks her: "You get a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" When she asks Dutch when she can go robbing with them, both him and Dutch laugh her off. When they bust John out of prison, he does it with her cuz literally no one else would help him and when they escape on the boat, he gets visibly annoyed that she doesn't take his hand. There are even more examples of things like this when he antagonizes her, but that's just the main game.

And there is the antagonizations of women performers. "Women shouldn't be doing this." "Go make someone some supper." "Go back to the kitchen." "This ain't ladylike." I'm sorry, but these need no explanations. His antagonize lines are just as canon as his greet lines and the fact that he says stuff like that shows that he believes in gender roles. It's an active part of his belief system.

There are so many more examples of this and the majority of them are subtle but I come from a culture that still treats its women like the 1800s treated theirs so when I ever pick up on these things, it's cuz I've lived it before.

And my final point- this is a historical game. Rockstar made sure to be as accurate as they can in regards to the time period- so characters not only react to historical attitudes but they are a part of it as well. Same goes for Arthur. He's a historical character with a historical background and historical attitudes- and that comes with the good, like chivalry, and the bad, sexism. You shouldn't play a game like RDR if you're expecting characters to feel modern in their thought processes.

Thank you and have a great day.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #answered #historical attitudes

[ruben-the-cowboy]

I love when quote generator is accurate here’s a few that I got:

Sean: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products!

Sean: *sprays hairspray in his mouth*

Sean: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good.

—————

Dutch: If there are no questions, we'll move on to the next chapter.

Arthur: I have a question.

Dutch: Certainly, Arthur. What is it?

Arthur: What's the point of human existence?

Dutch: I meant any questions about the subject at hand.

Arthur : Oh.

Arthur: Frankly, l'd like to have the issue resolved before I expend any more energy on this

—————-

Dutch, to Hosea: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it's not going to be me.

—————-

Dutch: If you really want to get back at a man, scare him with a pregnancy test. I've got a whole box of old positives at my house.

Micah: You're an American treasure.

—————-

Arthur: I'm going to get myself some soup.

Hosea : Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot.

Arthur: Pfft, I won't burn myself.

*30 seconds later*

Arthur, entering the room: I burned myself

—————-

Pearson: Tommorrow's garbage day.

Sadie: I can't believe they made a whole day dedicated to you.

—————-

Arthur: Oh, they left the bowl out?

Arthur: It says, "Take two pieces of candy."

John: Nobody around though...

*John grabs the entire bowl and runs off with it*

Arthur : NO -

—————-

Dutch : Are pigeons drones?

Hosea: What? No, I'm trying to sleep.

Dutch: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES!

Hosea: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

————-

Charles : Are you ready to commit?

Arthur: Like, a crime or a relationship?

————-

Dutch: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Hosea: Aren't you forgetting something?

Dutch : Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Hosea's forehead before running out.*

Hosea: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you??

————-

Arthur : I'm trash.

Charles : As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7:00 work for you?

Arthur :

Arthur : You smooth motherfucker. And yes, it does.

————-

Javier walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: John, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

John, sipping coffee happily: I love you too

————-

*Sadie comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Abigail's bedroom.*

Abigail: Babe, are you.. coming to bed?

Sadie: No thank you, I'm sure you're lovely but I have a girlfriend.

Sadie: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*

Abigail: ….

————-

John : This date is boring!

Javier: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

John: Then why did you invite me?

Javier: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Javier I'll do whatever I want!”

————-

Sadie : Talk dirty to me, baby~

Abigail: The dishes.

Sadie : Wh-

Abigail: They've been there for 4 days and it's your turn to wash them. You still haven't cleaned them and I have asked you to do it several times.

————-

Thank you.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #sean macguire #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #micah bell #simon pearson #charles smith #sadie adler #abigail roberts #john marston #javier escuella #dutch x hosea #charles x arthur #sadie x abigail #javier x john #vandermatthews #charthur #sadiegail #jovier

[otomiyaa]

Kaiju Experiment

Kafka & Reno

A/N: Second to last story I crafted during my trip. Ha ha, ha...

Summary: Reno and Kafka are suddenly curious about something. Are Kaiju ticklish? (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.1K

Everyone had already left the dining hall for their training. Kafka huffed, breathing out as he counted.

"O-one huhundred... One h-hundred one... One hundred t-two....." So harsh, Mina. He couldn't let go of the habit and accidentally called her by her first name again during lunch. Seriously? Two hundred push-ups?

To his embarrassment, the others had stayed behind until the count of fifty at least. They then were all ordered to leave, which luckily gave him the privacy to finish his punishment.

No one would even bother checking on him, but he knew that he couldn't disappoint Mina, not even behind her back. He was going to finish up to two hundred push-ups as she ordered him to.

"Senpai! You're still not done?"

Eep! Kafka wheezed like an old man and looked up tiredly to see Reno enter again.

"W-why a-are you hehere," Kafka asked, continuing his push-ups with every bit of strength he had. Which wasn't very much, to be honest.

"I came to tell you we're assigned to the same team for our next training. Hm... No one's here now. Should you keep going?"

Kafka nodded. "O-otherwise M-Mina will..." He continued to do the push-ups, and Reno snickered.

"One hundred six.... One hundred seven....."

"Senpai, you'll never make it to two hundred. I think she was just messing with you."

"N-not Mina...." Kafka's arms were starting to give in. He was shaking.

"Senpai, come on. They're more likely to scold you if you come late for the training."

"One... hundred.... t-t-t-ten," Kafka whined when he finally reached that number. Yes! Ninety more to go, he was definitely going to -

"WAHAHAHA!" Kafka was surprised by his own sudden cackles, caused by a very ticklish sensation under his arms. Reno!!!

"Heehee. Are you ticklish, senpai?"

Wait, how dare he- NO! "Ihihihichikahahawa! Nohoho I'm- gahahah!" Kafka shook his head hysterically and tried his best to continue. But Reno continued the tickles and eventually his arms gave in.

"Nohoho! Okahay I'll cohohome!" Kafka giggled like a school kid, curling up and kicking his legs as Reno continued to tickle him.

"Hehe. Good. Let's go," Reno said, helping him up. Then as they were still holding hands, Reno suddenly halted.

......

"W-what?" Kafka asked, still out of breath.

"Senpai. Are Kaiju ticklish?"

"Huh? How should I know?"

They both stared at each other, the thought sinking in slowly.

"Oh. You really want to know?" Kafka finally asked when Reno continued to stare.

"I actually want to. You?""

Kafka hesitated. "Me too...."

They were still holding hands because Reno helped him up, but now those same hands were shaking each other's in a firm handshake.

"We'll find out. After training, okay?"

"Okay."

It was going to be a useless Kaiju experiment, Kafka knew that. But he was now curious too. Would he still be ticklish in his Kaiju form? And what would this mean for other Kaiju, did they actually have such a weakness? If skin was too hard to get penetrated with bullets and swords, could it be subjected to tickles?

He needed answers. It took them a while to find the right moment. Training, lecturing, eating, bathing, but eventually they managed to sneak out together and found an abandoned spot near the base.

There, Kafka transformed in the dark of the night.

"So cool that you have it under control now," Reno said, applauding humbly. Kafka nodded proudly. Reno was so tiny now.

"Right?" Kafka giggled. He then spread his arms.

"Okay. Tickle me."

"GROSS!" Reno barked.

"Huh? That's why we are here, isn't it?"

"Well yes but don't say it like that!"

Reno very nervously approached him, his fingers wiggling. "Well then, here goes." He first wiggled his fingers under Kafka's spread arms, right where he had tickled him earlier.

Kafka felt no difference. He immediately sucked in a lot of air, but was quick to explode in a hysterical giggle fit as he wrapped his arms around himself and kneeled down.

"HAhahaha okay thahahat s-still ticklehehes!"

Reno kneeled down by his side. "Then what about here?" he asked, tickling his sides and ribs with fierce clawing moves. Kafka squealed and squirmed pathetically.

"YEHehes tihihickles! Bwahahah!"

Reno looked amused. "Here too?" He poked his tummy. Kafka screeched like a woman.

"Interesting. Your pain tolerance is impressive, so how is this form so sensitive to this?" Reno experimented with softer tickles, and somehow that felt even worse. Just the mere scribbling against his Kaiju skin, Kafka felt more ticklish than ever.

"I don't think it proves anything. You might just be too ticklish," Reno observed, scribbling all ten fingers against Kafka's tummy and making him howl.

He couldn't imagine tickling Kaiju like this. Yes, it was a silly experiment.

"But stihihill! Wahahah!" He had a hard time controlling his reflexes too. He didn't want to hurt him.

"OKAhahay okay ehehenough plehehease! Ichikahahawaaa!"

"What was that?" Reno lowered his hands, his fingers brushing against Kafka's apparently very sensitive Kaiju hips.

"HEEEHEE! PLEHEhease! Nohoho! Stohohop!"

He must've looked hilarious; a huge Kaiju giggling and begging for Reno to stop tickling him. Smiling, Reno sat back and watched Kafka catch his breath.

"Sorry, I got carried away. You will forgive me right?" he asked with a gentle smile. Kafka nodded.

"S-sure. I wanted it too. Besides, I'd crush you if I tickled you back now," he said, and he winked. Together they sat in silence until Kafka recovered from the tickle attack, and he managed to gasp for air.

"That was interesting. This body shouldn't be this sensitive. I wonder if all Kaiju are this ticklish, or it's just me," he said. Reno nodded.

"I doubt we can ever find out, but. I liked the experiment," he said. Kafka nodded, grinning.

"Me too." Reno was staring at the night sky and didn't notice him transforming back into his human form.

Kafka watched him in this peaceful state for a moment, smiling fondly. It was the perfect calm before the storm moment.

"Ichikawa."

Reno looked at him. "Hmm?"

Kafka raised his hands, holding them out like two big tickle claws. "Payback time."

"Huh WHA-?! You said- WAHahahah! Hohohold on- hehehey! Noooo!" Reno wailed as Kafka pinned him down and tickled him playfully. Looked like he was actually quite ticklish too!

"I said I wouldn't tickle you in my Kaiju form. But I'm actually pretty good at tickle fights~" Kafka sang proudly, bringing out some fun and sweet laughter that he never heard.

"HEeeheheheee! Sehehenpai plehehease hehehe! F-fohohorgihihive mehehe!" Sweet friendly Reno, even apologizing for something Kafka quite voluntarily subjected himself to. Well yeah, Reno did lose a bit of control there earlier.

"What was that?" Kafka said teasingly, and he continued to tickle.

"Forgive meeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

And just like that, their sweet laughter continued to brighten the dark and gloomy night. It wasn't a very useful experiment, but Kafka definitely thought it brought him even closer to Reno, and for that reason alone, he was enjoying himself immensely!

#unpopular fandom here I think? #except in Japan. there its huge lol #kaiju no. 8 #tickling #tickle fic #kafka #reno #kafka hibino #reno ichikawa #otomiya!writes

[marzipanandminutiae]

Re: age preferences in shared housing.

I'm in my mid-30's in a VHCOL city and have lived with anywhere from 2-7 roommates for my entire adult life. At this point in my life, I would prefer not to live with someone in their early 20's. It has nothing to do with age-gap discourse and everything to do with the fact that I am old, cranky, and tired.

I was not a good friend in my early 20's, and there was a lot of learning and growing that I would do over the next 15 years to make me a better person today. I have no problem having a coworker or friend who is in that life stage, but it is another thing entirely to have it follow you home. (I recognize that bad roommates come in all ages--I am talking about the specific learning experiences that come with living on your own for the first time, like the 23-year-old who did not understand that the city in fact WILL shut off your water if you buy weed with the money your roommates give you to pay the utilities.)

That being said, we don't list a specific age preference in our posting. We are far more likely to describe the current makeup of the house as "quiet, clean professionals in our early-to-late 30's, prefer dinner parties to house parties" and let people self-select out.

We had a very nice 22 year old guy interview a few years ago, and on paper he would have been a good fit (quiet, clean, stable job). However, he brought his mother to the roommate interview, and all of us kind of balked at that. We were not interested in living with his mother and had concerns about how he would handle conflict/communication without bringing his parents into it.

I would consider interviewing another candidate in their early 20's again, but not without reservations.

(Please do not read this as combative--we are typically on the same page about most things. I just wanted to offer another perspective from someone in a similar housing situation.)

I appreciate your perspective! And I think we're on the same page about this, too.

The key here, IMO, is what you said a few paragraphs up- it's not really about age, but behavior. Someone on their early 20s is statistically more likely to be in their Partying and Irresponsibility Phase, but it's not a guarantee. My worst problem housemate was 35 (expected everyone to cater to intrusive needs they had not expressed in the initial housemate interview and walk on eggshells around them; fell back on their trauma as an excuse when we politely tried to have open conversations about the issues at hand, as a house where everyone's wellbeing was taken into account). And I've lived with some extremely conscientious 22-year-olds. A few more tidy than I am, in fact.

Also, what I've seen more of is twentysomethings who don't want to live with anyone older, not the other way around. Which I'm struggling to interpret in any manner besides the discourse-adjacent Anyone Over 25 Having Contact With Anyone Under 25 Is Creepy. I guess they might be trying to be considerate if THEY want to party, but like I said, these groups are mostly more on the hipster queer student side.

#ask #greatpoetryfun #housing #long post #housemates

[afro-hispwriter]

Hearts on Fire

Tom Glynn- Carney x reader, Ewan Mitchell x reader, Glytchell x reader(eventually... maybe)

Summary- falling for either of your co-stars was NOT on your bucket list 

Warnings- single mom!reader, both boys are single, mentions of past pregnancy

wc-1.1k

A/n- I don't know exactly how sets work but I'm pretty sure actors all meet each other way before the first day, so everyone knows the baby already 

-

It was like yesterday that you were still auditioning for the role at 9 months pregnant. Now it was the first day on set and you had nobody to take care of your six-month-old son. Your cousin could only stay with you for so long and you were no way in hell leaving your baby with a stranger. 

There was a bus that would pick up cast members but you weren't sure how they would feel about you bringing your baby on the bus and then to set. 

But a call wouldn't hurt. And it didn't. Your assistant made sure something would be there. The set managers were more than happy to accommodate you as long as you brought everything needed. 

You got a text from Olivia that they were close by you instantly gathered up your things and put the playpen outside, along with the baby bag.

"Okay Miles, you're coming with mommy to work today." You picked up the chubby baby put him in the travel car seat and walked outside just as the bus pulled up. You waved and shut your door and locked it. You bent down grabbed the playpen strap and swung it over your shoulder, it clashed against your backpack making you stumble. You grabbed the bag strap and started hauling it all towards the bus.

The bus doors slid open and your co-star Ewan Mitchell came running out. 

"Let me help you out there."

"No Ewan I got it." You smiled at him but he shook his head. He grabbed the playpen and baby bag from your arms and gestured for you to go first. 

"Thank you." You sighed and walked up the steps of the bus. Everyone greeted you and moved their stuff so you could set Miles down. Ewan came in behind you and handed you the baby bag.

"I'm going to take this to the back." He says and takes the playpen. 

"Thank you again." You say. 

"Don't mention it," Ewan says and walks to the back then back up to the front to sit directly behind you. Miles' car seat was secure and you took your seat right next to him. 

The next stop was Tom. He stepped on the bus and his eyes instantly matched with you. 

"Hey, Y/n." He sat down next to you in the other set of chairs. His eyes dashed over to the little have stretching. "You brought your baby!?" Tom instantly cooed and tried to get a look. And just at the same time, Miles started getting fussy. The kind that he wanted to be held. 

"Okay okay." You cooed and started unbuckling him. You pocked him down and tried to sit him down on your lap but he planted his tiny feet on your thigh to stay up. "Oh, we want to stand today." He looked around the bus as it was completely new to him. 

"Hi there." Tom waved at the baby with a big smile on his face. "I don't think you remember me but I do remember you." Miles giggled as if he understood. "You were so much tinier." 

"Now he's a big boy." You say and tickle his sides making the baby squirm and giggle. Then he stopped as his little eyes caught onto Olivia. His tiny mouth was open in awe. 

"Uh oh, I think someone's got his first crush," Tom says and you look at Miles who was staring intently at Olivia. 

"You think she's pretty huh, I know she is." You say in a tiny baby voice.

"Oh, that is adorable," Olivia says with a smile which triggers Miles to smile as well. He sat down abruptly, digging his knees into your stomach making you huff then stood up with force to look at Olivia again. As if he was playing peek-a-boo. 

The whole ride Miles had everyone smiling and laughing. You were only 15 minutes away when Miles suddenly leaned over to reach for Tom. It was like something clicked to Tom and he instantly reached out but then hesitated and looked up at you for reassurance.

You were going to be working with these people for who knows how long. You had to trust them. 

You nodded and passed over Miles to Tom. He gladly accepted it with no issue. He sat in the man's lap contently while Tom kept a secure hold on him.

Once you deemed he was okay you let yourself relax as much as you could.

 Ewan tapped your shoulder and you turned around. 

“How old is he now?” He asks looking at Miles. 

“6 months.” He nodded then looked at you.

“You look absolutely amazing by the way.” He says. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had a baby 6 months ago.” 

Your face heated up and you broke out in a big smile. 

“That is very kind of you Ewan, I appreciate it.” He gave a satisfied smile and grabbed his phone.

“Can I get your number? I have pretty much everyone but yours.” 

“Yeah!” You grabbed his phone and typed in the number and handed it back to him. The bus pulled into the lot and parked. Everyone stood up grabbed their stuff and got off the bus just leaving you with Ewan, Tom, and Miles.

“I can take it from you, thank you.” You tell them but they don’t budge. 

“We’ve got you, don’t worry. I can carry Miles.”

Tom says and stands up, bouncing Miles slightly. 

“I can carry the other stuff. You worry about yourself for a bit.” Ewan says and grabs the baby bag and walks to the back to grab the playpen.

“Guys I’ve been doing this for months, please let me carry my stuff.” You pleaded but they didn’t budge. Tom waited for you to start walking and Ewan waited in the middle of the aisle. 

“We know you’re doing this, but you’re basically by yourself Y/n, let us help. We’re going to be around each other for a long time. I'm sure everyone in there is going to want to help you as well.”  

You didn’t know what to feel. Your chest tightened but your belly fluttered at his words. Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. The boys worried you were about to cry but you just nodded.

“Okay.” 

-

A/n-  this was more of an intro but, more to come!

@callsignwidow

#ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #ewan mitchell x reader #tom glynn carney x reader #glytchell

[tzigone]

Bruce's general path in headcanon reboot

Any long running character has gone through multiple personalities and relationship dynamics. Some I like, some I don't. But for my headcanon reboot, I'm mapping out a general path for Bruce. Pick bits and pieces out of canon and put them into something that works for me.

So, two big point that are so different in the early days and the later days are Bruce's wealth level and Bruce's emotional health.

So, for this story, we start with Bruce as rich, but not a billionaire and as an emotionally healthy superhero. These will both change as the story progresses.

Okay, I'm starting with Bruce becoming Batman as a 24 year old. He's studied and trained (and no one ever thought he was dead) and he's ready to get started on improving Gotham. His Uncle Philip Kane and Great Uncle Silas Wayne and some second cousins live in Gotham, while his Aunt Agatha is an out-of-town relative. Silas is the one running Wayne Enterprises at the time (though maybe not still doing the day-to-day) and owns 50% of Wayne Enterprises. Agatha (Thomas's sister) owns 25% and Bruce 25%. Agatha and Bruce have little to nothing to do with the business.

The Bruce we know then is social and generally pretty happy. Also a determined crimefighter. Superman's already on the scene and others heroes follow. Bruce does, like in the golden age, think of this as a phase in his life and something he'll retire from once he's accomplished his goals.

Gotham is certainly a city with crime and corruption, but it's not a cursed-from-birth-can-never-get-better kind of place. But well, while not nearly all the cops are on the take, there's enough of them that he can't leave that poor orphaned acrobat unprotected. He becomes Dick's guardian, and he trains the boy and lets him do the things he wished he could have done when his own parents were killed.

We'll see the early villains introduced now. While I'm spreading the golden age villains out a bit more than the compressed time of comics allowed for, the Joker and Catwoman still come at about the same time.

Things continue along that line for a while. Dick begins taking cases alone (Star-Spangled-Comics-like). Dick's in the phase of life where he's developing his own way of doing things, but he always defers to Bruce when they work together. They still have a healthy dynamic and Bruce is proud of him and seeing that he can trust Dick to handle things on his own.

Bruce joins the JL. He's worked with some of them before and he and Clark are friends. They are a good team dynamic and mutual respect, though that's to say no one ever irritates another.

I haven't really worked out Talia. I'd like to use the dislike Dick had of her, but originally that was when he was a college student, but if we look at Damian's age, Dick'd be younger when Bruce and Talia met, and I'm not sure how I'm going to work that out because the dynamic doesn't work the same with a 14 year old Dick and grown Talia.

He and Selina have had their banter in the past, but she was a criminal and he a hero and nothing every really happened. She goes straight and he thinks they'll not be seeing each other again.

Then Silas dies. His own children were, like Thomas and Agatha, never interested in running the business. Bruce feels like he needs to step in and get involved in the company and show some oversight, since no one else is. He's deliberately exposing Dick to the business side of things, hoping Dick will want to take over after college and he'll be able to devote his full time to heroing again.

We'll see Dick (16) join the OG Teen Titans and Barbara become a hero around this time. As with the original story, Dick's more welcoming of Barbara as a hero than Bruce is. This is when we first start to see his desire to be in control of everything, though it's much toned down back in this day and he accepts her quickly enough. He does not train her - she was already and adult and already trained. She works with the two of them sometimes, but mostly alone.

Bruce is getting more and more involved with the company, but beginning to resent the pull it has on his time. Actually, as the 10th anniversary of him donning the cowl approaches, he's starting to feel dissatisfied with his life. He thought he'd have accomplished his goals and be retired and married by now. But there's so much left to do. It seems to him that Gotham has barely improved at all. That's completely false, but he didn't set any actual benchmarks back when he started and now he feels like he's not meeting them. He'll hire Lucius and sort of start off-loading a bit of his Wayne Enterprises load on to him (and getting more eager for the idea of Dick taking over after graduation - Dick's leaving for Hudson). He will date Silver, but that'll fall apart.

Dick becomes much more independent at University. He gets used to doing things his own way. And he starts working with Barbara some. And now it's not just the TT, but his partner he expects to treat him as a equal. He's capable of the schoolwork, but doesn't prioritize it. He and Bruce are both leaning into putting more time in the hero biz right now, and less into other things. And he decides to leave University and spend his time on heroism. This is problematic for Bruce for two reasons. First Dick was supposed to take up the slack so he could do that. But more than that, it really bothers him that Dick doesn't finish college. He considers that a baseline accomplishment for his kid. He's not living up to his potential, etc. Dick knows how much of sacrifice this could be for others and feels fortunate he has a trust fund that enables him to do this and he resents Bruce trying to control his decisions like he's still a kid and that Bruce is doing partially so that Bruce can spend his time doing what Dick wants to do with his time. Since Dick isn't going to be taking over the company, Bruce hands the day-to-day over Lucius, though he maintains overall oversight.

So, this is the beginning of some of their issues that will become more significant over time. Also, Bruce is getting more determined, more driven, more focused, more demanding and more controlling in general. As I said, he feels like he's gotta step it up to save Gotham. We'll seem him start to pull away from his JL buddies, too. He starts to see them as insufficiently focused. And while he's always been confident in his own decision-making, he's getting more into the mindset that his way is the only way.

Dick joins the NTT, and he and Bruce have quite a strained dynamic at the time. Selina become a vigilante and she and Bruce interact more, but it doesn't go anywhere. Though they continue to interact and lust and care.

Then Bruce meets Jason. He does love him and value him, but he's much harder on him than he was on Dick at that age. He doesn't give him leeway to do anything but obey when in costume. Out of costume, he's a pretty good dad. But he's spending less time out of costume than he used to.

Jason's death really messed him up even more. He's pulls away even more from the relationships he had, he doesn't want to form new ones. He's angry and taking it out crooks sometimes. He's barely ever out of the costume. His relationship with Dick continues to get rockier.

After Tim becomes Robin Bruce very deliberately doesn't cast himself as a father (of course, Tim has one). Tim would open up with an emotional discussion with Dick or Alfred long before he would with Bruce. But Tim and Bruce have a good working relationship. Tim looks up to Bruce as almost infallible at first (which isn't really healthy) and he obeys completely, which is something Bruce values.

For a while, Tim is a good bridge for Dick and Bruce. But eventually, after working on his own for a while, and working with others, Tim starts to have his own ideas to believe Bruce is wrong sometimes (see the late 90s and early 2000s when Bruce was awful, though he won't be nearly so bad here) and Bruce isolates himself more. Grandmother Kane dies and he inherits a fortune from her.

Then Damian comes along, and Jason is back and Bruce is terrible at relating to both of them and handles all of it poorly and then is lost in time (or similar).

This experience and the alone-ness and forced time away from being Batman give him too much time to think about his own thoughts, think about his own life and his successes and mistakes and what he wants.

But unlike canon, he decides what he wants is to prioritize the people and relationships in his life more. When he gets back, he starts off working on what's important (but still totally dons the cowl and saves the day, too). He works very hard to build a relationship with Damian (and Dick has made tremendous progress with him) and to repair his relationship with Jason (and Tim had done quite well with him) and to do better about treating Dick, Steph, Barbara, Cass, Clark, and so many others better than he did. And treating the adults like equals instead of thinking he should be the boss of them. And he decides to finally take real shot with Selina instead of back-burnering or being too afraid/pessimistic to try. It does work out. In time, they'll be married and he'll have a good dynamic with family and his old friends will be his friends again.

He'll eventually inherit Aunt Agatha's portion of WE (and a fortune from Uncle Philip) and he'll eventually retire the cape and cowl when he knows he's too old to keep doing the job effectively. But he will know he did good, and he will have faith in the younger generations that they have to and will continue to do so.

#Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Selina Kyle #Clark Kent #Batman #Robin #Nightwing #Catwoman

[sweetmage]

Happy Friday! How do you feel about a bit of Purple Mage M!Hawke/Anders/Justice and some "Reopening an Old Wound," either literally or metaphorically?

Hiii! Thank you so much for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one <3 Justice is more of an influence on Anders' thoughts/opinions than a direct presence in this (save for a few mentions) but I think it fits the prompt otherwise! Also, it totally got away from me, I couldn't resist falling into love confession territory 😆💖Thank you again!

@dadrunkwriting -- Rating: M Word Count: 5325 Characters: Anders, Hawke, Sebastian (mentioned) Trigger/Content Warnings: Brief canon typical mention of past abuse and sexual assault (with regards to the Circle), Sebastian critical (in the context of the story and Anders' feelings/opinions) Tags: Supportive Mage Hawke, past trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, banter and teasing, love confessions, innuendos, suggestive flirting, making out, insecurities, reassurance, crying, venting session, bed sharing, spending the night, falling in love.

Summary: After an insensitive confrontation from Sebastian rubbed him raw and a trip to the Hanged Man and Blooming Rose failed to soothe the hurt, Anders began to wander the streets and accidentally found himself on Hawke's doorstep...

Based on this Sebastian & Anders banter (imgur link)

Anders must have been the first man alive to ever leave a whorehouse unsatisfied. Even there he hadn't found respite from his troubled thoughts, only disappointment, discomfort, and a considerably lighter coin purse.

Though the arrogant prick had up and left hours ago, Anders could still feel his words like a dagger in his gut, lodged so tight even drink and fair company couldn't dull the ache.

He hated Sebastian, that spoiled princeling with a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass he could surely taste the metal. He was everything wrong with the Chantry personified; a zealot who hid his privilege beneath a veneer of piety and poverty while turning his eyes from the rot beneath his feet.

Of course he couldn't understand Anders' anger or grasp the depths of despair mages lived in every day, the fear that had been the cornerstone of his—every mage's—existence from the moment he'd first manifested magic.

The fact that that sanctimonious bastard dared even ask if something happened there, as though the reality all around him didn't speak for itself—it made him want to spit.

At this rate, he should have returned home but he'd lost track of the hours, drunk and aimless as he wandered through the city streets. He hadn't realized which turns he'd taken, how many steps he'd climbed until he found himself standing on a familiar doorstep, fingers hesitating at the knocker.

It was late, well past the hour he should be troubling Hawke, but when he tried to turn and go he found his body refusing to listen. Instead, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the knocker and knocked softly, regretting the action as soon as the sound echoed through the silence.

Retreating with a step back and another to follow, he was already turning to go when the door swung open and Hawke stood there, sleep-tousled and in a half-tied robe that hung loosely off the shoulder.

Anders' tongue seemed to swell and lodge itself at the back of his throat and his further attempts at escape landed him sprawled unceremoniously against the pavement at the bottom of the steps.

"What in the—" Hawke's hands were suddenly upon him, rolling him over onto his back and hauling him to his feet, his strong arms steadying him. "Anders?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Anders muttered, the words spilling from his lips without conscious thought as he brushed the dirt from his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm going."

Hawke's hand caught his wrist and held him back. "Anders. Come inside."

"No, I shouldn't. I need to get back. I just, I didn't know where else to go. But I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm fine." He tugged at his wrist and was surprised when Hawke held firm.

"You show up at my doorstep at Maker-knows-what hour, falling all over yourself and trying to run off into the night and I'm supposed to believe you're fine?"

Anders' gaze fell to the hand around his wrist, unable to meet Hawke's eyes. Against his better judgment, he said nothing, the silence stretching on long enough that Hawke sighed and dragged him into the house.

He didn't have the will or energy to fight it, following without a word of protest or resistance, allowing himself to be led through the quiet manor up to Hawke's bedroom.

"You didn't drop by to borrow a cup of sugar," Hawke noted, gesturing for him to have a seat at the desk or on the bed. Anders chose the desk. "Why are you here?"

Anders thought long and hard about the question only to come to an unsatisfactory answer. "I don't know."

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said Justice disapproved."

Anders shrugged, picking up the closest thing to him—a letter opener—and flipping it between his fingers, spinning it round and round, back and forth, his eyes glued to the movement of the blade. "I guess he's out for the night." It was meant to be a joke but he didn't have it in him and it slipped right over Hawke's head.

"Huh... So what happened? Trouble at the clinic?"

"No. I haven't been back today," he answered, shaking his head.

"After your little spat with Seb, you mean?" He asked the question in a casual, offhand way as though it wasn't a big deal, just a little squabble among travelmates.

Anders didn't answer, but the mention of Sebastian's name made his knuckles whiten around the blade’s grip.

"I should have said something," Hawke admitted, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. "I didn't expect it to get so ugly."

"It's not your job to fight my battles for me." He looked up at him for a moment, then quickly turned away.

"I don't get paid to do a lot of things," Hawke replied. "Never stopped me before. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You'd face his wrath, listen to him prattle on just for the warmth and fuzziness of it all?" His lip quirked slightly, momentarily diverted from his woes as he regarded his friend dubiously.

"Everyone needs a hobby." He pushed himself off the wall to join Anders by the desk, settling himself on the edge and looking down upon him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," he said, not entirely truthfully. It would be all too easy to let it spill forth—his worries and fears and frustrations—but it felt selfish. It was easier to turn his sights to the plight of others, to bear the pain of the downtrodden in place of his own and forget that he, too, could hurt.

"So you came here just to brood at my desk and play with my things?"

“Apparently," he murmured. Returning the opener to its proper place, Anders instead ran his hands idly along the smooth edge of the desk. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I didn't have some grand plan in mind. I didn't mean to come here."

"And yet, here you are. If you didn't want to see me, there's a few other people in Kirkwall you could have dropped in on. Washed up Orlesian chevaliers. Carta dwarves. That crazy guy who hangs out under the stairs. You picked me. What does that say about you, I wonder?"

"That I have poor taste and a penchant for trouble?" Anders guessed.

"I was going more for 'he needs someone who cares' but that's a close second."

Smiling ruefully, Anders shook his head, his hair slipping from behind his ear. Hawke reached over to brush it aside, tucking the loose locks gently back where they belonged. Quietly, Anders turned to look at him, eyes tracing his friend's features in the dim candlelight as his hand lingered at his jaw a moment too long.

"I'm awake now and my ears are all yours so why not talk? It might make you feel better."

It might... It just seemed so unnecessary when there were far greater concerns in Kirkwall to address. Yet he found himself regretting that last drink, the one that now had the words resting heavy on the tip of his tongue, begging for freedom.

"Anders?"

"He asked me if something happened to me in the Circle. If I was angry about it. The very fact that he could even ask that..." He scoffed and turned away. "The nerve of it..."

"Did something happen to you?" Hawke asked, his tone soft and low. Somehow on his lips—a mage, a friend—it sounded less prying than when Sebastian had asked it.

"Something happens to a lot of us. That's how things are in a Circle. They take your life from you, tell you what to think and how to behave. They force mages into isolation, separate them from everything and everyone they've ever loved and they're told it's for their own safety, that they're only helping. Then they do a lot worse than that, they have all these pretty words to dress that up, to make them believe that what they're going through is just a natural consequence of being born who they are." He felt Justice stirring at the thought and tried to quash his emotions before they could spark something bigger.

"I didn't ask about the other mages, though. I asked about you."

An odd feeling rose within him—like a spotlight had been trained upon him, the only man in a dark room. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Yes. No. Sort of. It doesn't matter."

Hawke seemed dissatisfied with his answer, his lips pursed and head cocked slightly to one side. "It doesn't sound like you were very ‘fortunate’," he remarked of Anders' early statements, the words he'd used to dismiss Sebastian's questions.

'It's not about being beaten or raped by a templar— that does happen, but I've been fortunate.'

His own words played over in his mind, a barrier he'd erected between himself and the truth. That it kept Sebastian out as well was just a bonus. He'd spent so long building his defenses, fortifying himself in the way required to stand for others, but Hawke's steady, caring gaze was chipping away at them.

"I was fortunate to escape," he conceded, his words halting and reluctant. "Most don't. They still face that threat every day."

"So that's what happened to you? Raped and beaten? And everything else you were on about?"

He had met few people less tactful than Hawke, but something about the way he put aside his mask of charm and humor and just said the things others danced around was oddly comforting. He was trying and that was more than many had done for Anders.

"I don't really want to talk about this," he answered quietly, not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Anders felt the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes and the heat rising in his face and hated both. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying and failing to keep his voice even. "It was a long time ago."

"Maybe. It doesn't make it hurt any less, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. I haven't told anyone except for Justice. He... saw it. When he joined with me. Everything that happened over decades in a split second. But then we couldn't speak to each other anymore. So the only one that knows now is..." He looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers as though they weren't his own. "I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything..."

Without preamble, Hawke lowered himself from the desk and placed his hands upon Anders' shoulders and pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward but sincere embrace.

Anders stiffened in surprise, uncertain how to react at first. After a moment, though, he gave in, leaning into Hawke and letting his arms circle his waist, hands fisting at the back of his robes as his emotions began to spill forth, a quiet sob wracking his body before he could stifle it.

Hawke's hand cradled the back of his head, his fingers slipping into his hair. He graciously said nothing, simply holding Anders as the dam broke and his years of pain and suffering found release.

He had never wished to distract from the bigger picture, to center himself in a fight that was not his alone, but he knew that Hawke saw the root of what he was fighting for. Was it so wrong, then, to let him see a glimpse of the man beneath the cause?

Anders didn't know, but it felt good to be seen, to be understood.

"Feel better?" Hawke asked, breaking the silence between them when Anders finally pulled back.

He was embarrassed at his outburst, at the damp patch of tears upon Hawke's shoulder, but there was no mocking in his friend's eyes, no judgment or disgust, just simple compassion. "A bit. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I mean, not my actual pleasure, obviously. I didn't enjoy watching you cry, I just—you know what? Nevermind." He cleared his throat, straightening his house robe and looking away.

Anders smiled, a small, fleeting thing, and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his coat. "You're a good friend, Hawke. I'm not sure what I've done to— I mean, you're just... you're a good man."

"Be still, my beating heart," Hawke muttered, putting a hand to his chest as though overwhelmed by the flattery. And perhaps he was, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink and a sheepish smile upon his lips. "Don't go getting all sentimental on me or I'll be the next one to wind up in tears."

"Well if you need a shoulder..."

"Those do look pretty soft," Hawke teased, gesturing to the plumage that adorned Anders' coat. "I'm going to have to take you up on that sometime."

"Anytime," Anders said, chuckling lightly.

"So, would you prefer the bed or the floor?"

The question left him feeling off-kilter, unsure whether Hawke was making a joke or asking legitimately. He hesitated a moment, considering, then realized it was probably a bit silly to think too hard about it if he was being genuine.

"I think the cots in my clinic are just fine, thank you."

"Seriously, Anders? Still trying to scamper off? After all that? We've hugged and everything!"

"And that means you think I should share your bed now?"

"I never mentioned anything about sharing," Hawke replied, his brows arching.

"A-ah..." Anders felt the heat rise in his cheeks, his heart picking up a notch. "I suppose you didn't." Standing quickly, he tried not to seem too hasty as he turned for the door. "Still, it's late and I'm sobering up so—"

Hawke's hand closed around his wrist, stopping him again. "Stay."

"What?"

"Here. Tonight. With me. Stay."

It was hard not to notice how close Hawke was, standing a scant inch from him, the scent of him filling his senses. His eyes fell to his lips and then he tore his gaze away, his face hot, pulse racing.

He knew he shouldn't get any closer, but the night had already gotten away from him and his thoughts were still hazy, clouded with alcohol and emotion.

"It's a long walk, the sun will be up before you get back to Darktown and you've had quite a bit to drink. It's better you stay here. And... I'd miss you, if you left."

Anders looked at Hawke, at his kind, earnest expression and could not find it in himself to say no. "You do so much for me. I don't know how to thank you."

"Try getting a solid eight to ten hours of sleep for once and we'll call it even," he replied, only half-teasing.

"Ten? I haven't even slept for more than six since..." He sighed, not even knowing how long he'd been undersleeping to allow for more work time. But if that was all Hawke was asking then it was hardly an unreasonable request. "Alright."

"Good." Releasing his wrist, Hawke took a step back, removing himself from Anders' personal space. "Do you need anything? Food? Water?"

"No, I'll be alright. Sleep does sound nice. I'll just go hang up my coat and—"

"Ah. Right. You need something to sleep in. Hold tight a moment." He strode across the room and rifled through his wardrobe, returning a few moments later with a loose house robe. "It's probably a bit too big but it's better than nothing. There's a basin in the corner if you want to wash up. Or you can use the tub downstairs, it's big enough for a family. Not that you need that, unless you have an interesting story to tell. Not that it's any of my business if you do." He held the robe out to him and Anders took it, amused at his rambling. He seemed almost... nervous? Or perhaps the hour was getting to him.

"I'll make do with the basin, thanks," he said, reluctant to dally any longer than necessary lest he lose his nerve and get the urge to flee again.

"Of course." Hawke smiled, gesturing vaguely towards the washbasin and turning away for Anders' privacy.

He dipped behind the divider and stripped down to his smalls, performing a quick, perfunctory wash before redressing in the robe Hawke had provided. To say they were too large would be a vast understatement, his slender frame was all but swallowed up by the oversized garment. He flushed, tugging self-consciously at the hem as he emerged.

As expected, Hawke wore an amused grin the moment his eyes fell upon him, just barely withholding a snicker at his expense.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," Anders grumbled, though he couldn't help but return the smile, his amusement proved infectious.

"Oh, I'm going to, don't even worry," he said, his laughter bubbling over. "Maker, I ought to feed you come morning, you could use a few good meals. You're practically swimming in that robe."

As though even a few meals would fill him out this much. "I eat fine, Hawke," he grumbled in retort. But, for all his eye-rolling, he was somewhat endeared by the sentiment behind Hawke's teasing. It was an oddly domestic scene and Anders was loathe to admit a part of him was enjoying it.

"Sure you do. And I'm the king of Ferelden. Now come on, bed's over here." Hawke moved from his spot beside the desk to pull back the bedcovers and gestured for Anders to climb in. "So... what you said before, the thing about us sharing...?" As soon as the words fled his lips he looked mortified, as though he hadn't meant to actually ask them.

"Hawke..." Anders stared at him, brow quirked and a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "I wasn't serious about that. I just thought that's what you were saying—"

Hawke looked stricken and pale, a nervous sheen forming upon his brow. "Right. No, I know. I just... Forget it. Nevermind. Just... you can have the bed." Backing away he began to retreat towards the door. "I'll take the chaise."

"Hawke, wait." Anders laid a hand upon his shoulder before he could think better of it and, after a deep breath he exhaled with a chuckle. "Point taken, I see how you feel when I'm trying to make a break for it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— It wasn't that I was trying to run from you, it's just— Maker's balls, can I form a single coherent sentence?" He ran a hand down over his weary features. "Look, you're very tired and very vulnerable and a little drunk so I shouldn't have said anything. I was being an ass. And after what you told me tonight... I don't want to be another person you have to be afraid of."

Anders was silent for a moment, his hand still upon Hawke's shoulder while he mulled his words. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't reel in the scowl that darkened his features even when Hawke's expression shifted in response. He let his hand drop, though not his gaze. "What? Now that I've poured out my heart, you think I'm just going to fall apart on you? Don't make me regret opening up to you. I don't want to be treated differently because of it. I can't stand that."

Where Anders had expected more pity and floundering, he instead found relief in Hawke's expression, followed by a soft smile. "Thank the bloody Maker. You have no idea how terrible I am at the whole 'walking on eggshells' song and dance." He let out a deep, tension-breaking sigh.

"You've made that clear." His lips twitched into a brief, wry smile before returning Hawke's honesty with a bit of his own. "I appreciate you trying. Really. It’s meant the world to me to still have you here at my side after everything. I've never had a friend like you before. Maker knows what I'd do without you." He was thankful he was sobering because the more he spoke, the closer he found himself to a confession he'd rather not make.

"Probably have a lot fewer people trying to kill you," Hawke mused.

"Or a lot more. Or I'd already be ashes in the pyre. Either way, I'm glad I have you with me." He managed a half-smile, shrugging the robe further up his shoulder though it was a losing battle. "But enough of that. It's late and someone was telling me I need a solid ten hours of sleep." Stepping around Hawke, he climbed into the bed and slid beneath the covers. The sheets were sinfully comfortable—unlike anything he'd known in his clinic, the circle, or even the Keep—and his weary body was already melting into the mattress, eager for rest. A shame, then, that his mind was set to racing again as Hawke climbed in beside him.

"I assume this is back on the table then?" He asked, settling in so close Anders could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the subtle floral of his hair as it fell and fanned half off of his pillow and half onto Anders'.

He'd forgotten the question entirely the moment it reached his ears. "Sorry?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Sorry?" Hawke echoed, lids lowered groggily or perhaps even sultry as he watched Anders over the short space between them. "Are you cold? You're shaking something fierce."

Was he? He hadn't noticed, his whole body had gone stiff at Hawke's closeness and he hadn't been able to feel much of anything else since. But Hawke's fingers upon his arm were proof enough that it wasn't just a flight of fancy, that he hadn't imagined that Hawke was looking at him in such a way. "Oh," he murmured, drawing his limbs inward and willing his heart to calm. "Yes. A bit."

And it was only then that he noticed Hawke's arm moving across his pillow. His fingers were slow and steady, deliberate as they inched towards the back of his neck until Anders, unable to help himself, moved in towards the contact. He rested his cheek against Hawke's upper arm, face pressed into his shoulder as Hawke's fingers continued up and threaded into his hair, combing lightly through the loose locks. He lay still as a stone, wondering if Hawke was feeling every heavy thud of his heart, when he'd realize what he was doing and who it was he was with and recoil, but the moments ticked by and he did no such thing.

"Hawke?" He lifted his head from his arm to meet his eyes, only to find himself drowning in those warm pools of amber, the breath caught in his lungs. Anders' lips parted and the words fell forth before he could stop them: "You don't know what you're doing, what you're risking." They were the same words he'd told himself time and again, ones he'd used to distance himself from others, from temptation. Yet, there in the quiet intimacy of Hawke's bed, they sounded hollow and false. "You deserve better than the ruin I will bring you."

"Why did you come here tonight?" Hawke asked him softly. "To me. Why didn't you go to Varric? Isabela? Why didn't you go home?"

The words did not come easy, filtered through a thousand lies he wished to tell. In the end, however, he could not. Not to him. "I only feel like myself when I'm with you. Like I'm alive and can face anything. Like anything matters. Like I matter." He felt more exposed now than he had in Hawke's robe, his heart laid bare before him. Dangerous confessions they were, and yet, they tasted sweet on his tongue. "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't mean to come here. But that's worse, like my heart knew what my head couldn't."

"You speak to me like that then expect me to let you go?"

"You should," he whispered. "I can't give you what you deserve—"

"Then give me what I want," he countered, though Anders did not know which he spoke of—a night, a future—and feared asking for clarification lest it all be dashed to bits. "No... what you want. It's your call," he murmured, fingers slipping from his hair and across Anders' cheek as he withdrew his hand.

What he wanted... dare he even put words to it? A simple touch, the taste of Hawke's lips upon his own, to hear his name whispered in the dark as the morning came. These things were selfish, and yet... perhaps there was nothing so wrong with that now and again. Was it wrong to want another shoulder to share the weight of the world with? He'd been fighting alone for so long...

His body moved before he'd made any conscious decision, his eyes locked upon Hawke's mouth. He thought he saw Hawke swallow, but there was no resistance when he moved forward, no flinch of surprise. His fingers splayed across Hawke's jaw, holding him there as their lips came together in the briefest, softest contact. "Andraste, help us both... I love you, Hawke," he murmured, voice hoarse with longing. "I have not slept soundly a night since I met you because I know you'll await me in my dreams and nothing can sate the ache in me when I wake without you there."

Hawke stayed silent long enough for Anders to start counting the seconds, wondering if perhaps he'd misstepped, but he didn't need to worry long. "It felt nice. Kissing you. I liked that," Hawke said finally. A blush crept over his cheeks, just visible in the lowlight. "Kiss me more? Please?" he added, his thumb brushing the stubble along Anders' jaw. "If you're sure it's not wrong."

It was a question that deserved an answer but all he could think was 'finally', his body closing the remaining distance between them with fervent abandon. His lips sought Hawke's and were greeted with no opposition, Hawke's fingers tangling back into his hair to draw him deeper. Hawke's lips parted beneath his and Anders tasted him, tongue slipping inside and exploring him for the first time. He tasted like sunlight and summer and everything he'd been missing in life. He couldn't help the soft, breathy sighs he spilled into Hawke's lips, his fingers clutching desperately at his robe, afraid if he let go he'd wake again like always.

"Maker, Anders..." Hawke's breath shuddered over the name, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I don't know how to love you right, but I love you. I love you so much," he whispered between frantic kisses, the words Anders longed for so badly falling from those precious lips.

Hawke wanted him, loved him... Anders wanted to sob for joy, his heart filled to burst from those words. "You love me... I could ask no more of you." He was shaking again, he realized, but it was alright. Hawke seemed receptive to every trembling touch, every whimper and sigh, every unspoken request to hold Anders closer and never let him go.

Anders was all but ready to have him here and now when Hawke began to slow the pace back to something tame, drawing him back with a few pecks at his lips. Then, he released him completely and settled back onto the pillow, a faint sheen of sweat upon his brow.

"Sorry," Hawke said, his breath coming in soft pants. "We should... slow down."

Anders let out a faint sigh of his own, a flicker of disappointment igniting inside him, but he tried not to let it show. "Sorry..."

"What are you sorry for?" Hawke asked with a soft laugh, a flush rising on his cheeks as his eyes ran over Anders' face and lips, looking at him in such a way it sent his heart racing once again. "I just thought: Why disappoint you now when I could disappoint you twice as much later? And for twice as long."

"You want to later? With me?"

"Disappoint you and forever change how you look at me?" Hawke asked, a smile touching his lips. "I'd be a complete idiot to pass up that opportunity."

"I didn't mean—I mean, I'd only be let down if you weren't serious," Anders admitted, glancing away from him for a moment. "I don't want to play with your heart, but I hope you won't play with mine either. Maybe it's best you sleep on it. Before you cast your life aside, put yourself in the Chantry's sights..." He was reluctant to bring reality back into a moment so blissful, but he needed Hawke to understand. "No one has done for mages what you have done, few understand our plight like you. So you know what it's like for people like us, the risks you'd be taking for loving me. It's dangerous when you have something you are afraid to lose. They can use that against you. If the Templars hurt you for this, for me, I'd—"

"Hard to argue with that logic," Hawke cut in, waving him into silence. "In that case, I suppose I'd better tell Mother to find a new place. And I'll leave Marian near the road in a crate marked 'for free'... assuming I can find one her size. And Dog is probably smart enough to make his own way, he already loves to eat rubbish so I'm sure he'll manage."

"Excuse me?" Anders asked, blinking owlishly.

"Wouldn't want the Templars coming for anyone I love so it's best I put them out first, right?" He gave him a light, knowing smile that belied his deadpan delivery.

Heat crept to his cheeks and realization struck, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through him. "Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."

"Praise the Maker, you're catching on." He cupped Anders' jaw, running a thumb lightly across his lip. "Let them try to take you from me."

He shivered at the promise, the protective gleam in Hawke's eye. "You really mean that." It wasn't a question, he could read the conviction in his face. "Thank you."

"Will you sleep now?" He asked, shifting closer to him to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, his beard scratching pleasantly at the tender skin. "It's less awkward if we both go instead of me snoring in the middle of you pouring your heart out."

"Yes, love." It felt nice upon his tongue, natural and right as though it had always been waiting there.

"Mmm, that sounds nice." Hawke pressed a chaste peck to the corner of his jaw and he could feel his smile there. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight," he said softly back, wrapping his arms around his love. He listened as Hawke's breathing slowed and steadied as he fell to slumber. He almost didn't want to join him, he wanted to bask in this moment forever.

The day's troubles felt worlds away and the ones yet to come no longer loomed so large. Even the thought of that smug prick was more an afterthought than an outrage in Hawke's arms. What did that arrogant prince know anyway? He surely lay alone in the Chantry cots wrapped safely in his ignorance, willfully unaware of the world and its cruelties. To live such a lie and remain on a high horse seemed a pathetic existence, one Anders did not envy despite all he had to witness and endure. Though he—Justice—had his reservations, Anders knew this was no distraction. Hawke had proven himself worthy and then some, risked and suffered for the rights of all mages; Sebastian would continue to grope around in the darkness he chose while the brightest light in Kirkwall had his lips to Anders' neck. He felt vindicated. And tired...

He let his eyes fall shut, Hawke's warmth and scent enveloping him. If he was still dreaming, he hoped he could stay like this just a little longer.

#anders #hawke #handers #m!handers #dragon age 2 #da2 #sebastian critical #chantry critical #dadwc #jun fics

[tyetknot]

I thought you were joking when you said that the Farrar's books were outdated but holy shittt, even for 1970s wicca/witchcraft those guys were like full gender heterosexual white magic ye harm none thing, I was also seeing their interview were christian kids interview them, and boy it is hard to watch, but on to my question kskk, do you know if they changed later down?,like Janet seems to be okay sometimes,I can't find anything of them on their "controversial views" except their later polyamorous relationship (wich come to think of it I would love to hear their gender rationale on that), and also, how do you personally (if you do so) reconcile this type of author?, like there is no doubt that they are important in craft history, but now they kinda do more harm than good.

Hi Anon! I'm sorry if you've been waiting for a bit, you know how Tumblr is.

So one thing it's important to remember is: back in the 1970s and 80s a religion where women run the show was very progressive. Feminism got bolted onto Wicca pretty quickly once it hit the American West Coast and Starhawk wrote The Spiral Dance. Things like worshipping a goddess who didn't need a man around to tell her what to do were really unusual for the time. All this hippie-dippy shit like being naked in your rituals and such was far out, man, not like those totally square and boring Christians.

The problem is that, like many older people who were once cool and progressive, they just kind of stopped where they were in the 70s and 80s and didn't really......well, progress past that point. This leads to things like statements like that one in A Witches' Bible where they think that actually gay people are perfectly OK in ritual (this was a bit of a controversial point at the time) as long as they act like their biological gender, which is hilarious to us in 2024 because they obviously conflate being gay with being trans in some bizarre fashion. This was progressive for the time. It comes across as incredibly ignorant today. And of course, if their ideas did change, well, the book is already out there, people are reading it, and you can't go back in time and change something that's already been published. You can add notes or amendments to further editions, but I don't believe they ever did that, and Stewart Farrar died in the early aughts.

I find the polyamory thing to be pretty cringe, NGL, because I am a judgmental and suspicious piece of shit and think that an awful lot of the time polyamory is a tool used to make younger women sexually available to older men - good Lord, the age difference between Stewart and Janet - and that's very distasteful.

In my opinion the Farrars are probably the stodgiest and most conservatively-written books you'll find from that time period, and they're a good example of what coven-based Alexandrian Wicca looked like at that time, but there were a lot of more relaxed writers out there at the time and LOTS more a few years later. My primary complaint with A Witches' Bible is rather specifically that asinine Oak King / Holly King thing which they made up entirely and then ineptly shoehorned into the Wheel of the Year, where it just doesn't fucking work, and then everyone else just kind of went with it. No! It sucks and is bad, don't do it!

Do I think they do more harm than good? No, I don't. I think that anyone fairly new to Wicca shouldn't read this book first thing out the gate because it sets a lot of very unrealistic expectations, and because it's pretty old - Eight Sabbats for Witches was published in 1981, which makes it a few years older than me, and The Witches' Way in 1984, which makes it a year younger than me, and TBH there's much newer and fresher material being published every year. I would much sooner recommend someone like Thorn Mooney to new person interested in traditional Wicca.

#Wicca #Witchcraft #Pagan #Traditional Wicca #Alexandrian Wicca #Janet and Stewart Farrar #The Farrars