#also i know for a fact that the guy studied latin for a long time and his uncle's a latin professor at the university

[crisalidaseason]

College au!Armin x gn!reader

Summary: Moments that led Armin, who promised to never open his heart for love again, to reconsider his own stong convictions when he met a certain someone.

Content warning: insecurities, previous heartbreak, failed previous relationship, fear of loving again, fluff, strangers to friends to pre-lovers, pining, falling in love, awkwardness, but also cute, Armin is anxious, Armin studies Psychology, everyone is college/university age, a little slow burn? (like they only hold hands here). Reader has a contextual nickname (Ev) because I can't stand the use of y/n (sorry), reader is latine coded but is really implicit, reader is not specified aside from the fact they are a history student.

Text abreviations and specifications: PCAS studies (Pre-colombian american societies). Ev is a nickname from a name that means 'flourish' 'grow' which I thought to be appropriate to the story.

Whoever decided that getting a university degree was essential for basic survival needed to be punched really hard. Armin sighed for the millionth time while the PCAS professor proceeded to read yet another slide.

"This guy is just fucking reading for the past 3 hours" he muttered under his breath.

"True. Isn't he supposed to be smart and teach something?" a voice said behind his seat.

Armin cursed internally, was he too loud?

"Honestly I think he's just as miserable as we are"  they said once again.

Armin chuckled a little, agreeing, and turned to face the voice. Big mistake. The person was really, really, nice looking. He stared at their features for a little too long, quickly turning back on his seat feeling a little embarrassed.  

The rest of the lecture progressed for about two hours, at an agonizing pace. Once the professor declared the class as finished, nobody stayed there for even a minute. Armin was already outside when he noticed the same person from before. He didn't know them at all, but that wasn't a surprise since Armin barely talked to people outside of his friend group. They were alone, sitting in one of the benches. A small and scary side of Armin wanted to go there and speak with the beautiful stranger.

_____

Armin caught himself hoping to see the stranger again throughout the week, and he was not happy about it. Armin felt the beginning of a crush and he was terrified of that. The last time he pursued something with a crush, he ended up on a relationship that left him very sad in the end. He did not need another failed romantic interaction, Armin would bury and drown that crush immediately.

"Would you mind if I sat next to you?" a voice startled him.

He was waiting for PCSA class to start, sitting at the very back of the seat rows in hopes to not encounter the pretty stranger again. He failed, they were right next to him.

"Um, no" he managed to say, stuttering.

They sat a chair away from Armin, which he appreciated. The small distance calmed his nerves a little bit.

"Can I ask you a question?" the stranger said.

Armin had to hold his tongue. They technically already asked him a question? He just nodded, not trusting his mouth not to embarrass him.

"What's your course? It's the first time I see you in a class full of history students"

"I'm studying psychology" his voice didn't fail him this time.

"Interesting" they said "what brings you to my humble course?"

Oh, so they were a history student. Strangely, Armin thought it fit them.

"Honestly, I just thought the name was cool and took the class"

"A pity that the professor is really boring though, makes a pretty bad first impression huh?" they said.

"I guess so, but the texts are good. Very difficult, but good"

"Oh, would you like some help with the texts? I kinda research on this, I can give you a hand"

Armin really wanted to say no, he really did. Why would he accept such an offer if he was already crushing this hard and didn't even know the stranger's name? He was such a loser, starting to fall for someone who spared him seconds of attention.

"That's nice of you, thanks"

"All you have to do is ask" they replied "Oh! You can call me Ev"

They offered their hand, which Armin took shakily.

"I'm Armin"

Soon the class started and Armin had to endure four hours of the professor reading endless slides. Occasionally Ev would make a few comments directed to Armin, and also explain a few confusing topics when he needed. He was still conflicted with their presence, but that was a problem for later.

___

Ev always sat next to Armin during the class  and with that came a few study sessions in the library. He said yes to all their invitations, contrary to his own advice of not engaging with the stranger anymore. He blamed it on his curious brain, always wanting to learn something new. He decided to only interact with Ev about study related stuff, but that soon proved to be impossible. They would always offer to drive Armin to his apartment, claiming that they were going the same way anyways.

"You like Paramore too?"

Ev once had asked Armin to pick a song to listen to while driving.

"Yes, since I was a teen" he replied.

"Same! I was obsessed. Have all the albums in vinyl and all"

"Really? That's so cool, I never owned a vinyl disc before"

"I'll send you a picture of them once I get home"

Both were texting. Mainly to schedule studying sessions, but soon they started to chat a little. Armin would give out random book recommendations or comment on a recent tv show that blew up. In return, Ev would share pictures of their field trips to museums and archives, even some random and cute pic of a stray cat. Armin soon found himself craving the growing connection, which scared him a lot.

"There's nothing wrong with opening up" Mikasa had told him when he confessed his growing crush "But you also don't need to jump into a relationship or anything, just enjoy this connection and go slow"

He appreciated his friend a lot, she was there for him when he cried after the sudden breakup with his ex. Mikasa was one of the only people that didn't expect him to just 'bounce back' from the heartbreak. He loved all of his friends, but most of them pretended not to notice how hurt he still was. They thought it was easy to forget someone you cherished and cared for intensely, which was Armin's biggest issue. He loved too hard.

___

"Ugh! I hated this test with all of my vital strength" Ev complained while leaving the lecture hall.

Armin was right behind them, feeling like a failure. What kind of professor asks for a six page discourse on multiple authors as a mid term? With only four hours to write it?

"He is boring, but evil" Armin said.

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna fail this class" they groaned "let's eat our frustration out, care for brunch? My treat"

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Armin reasoned.

"And?" they smiled, dragging Armin by the hand.

And with that, the 'dates-not-dates' started. They would often go out and explore some new restaurant or cafe. Ev knew a lot of indie places, all of them near the historical center. Armin found it sweet that a history student was always hanging out in historical places. He even visited an archeology museum during closed hours because of Ev's free-pass as an intern, which was an experience that Armin would never forget.

"Thank you for today" Armin said when they dropped him off at his apartment complex "It was one of the coolest museum experiences I've ever had"

Even if Ev was nothing but a passing crush or just another temporary person in his life, Armin couldn't deny both of them were building good memories.

"No big deal, Arlert. Whenever you want a historical tour, just give me a call" they smiled.

He smiled, closing the car door and watching it drive away. Mikasa was sitting on the couch when he entered the apartment, sending him a questioning look and a teasing smile.

"Don't say a word, Mika"

___

The evening was quiet. Him and Ev were eating in their car after a very long day of studying together for their final test in PCAS. His head was hurting after all those readings and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep forever.

"Can I tell you something?" Ev's voice was low.

Armin nodded.

"You're really cool"

At that he almost hit his head on the roof of the car with how fast he jolted. Ev started giggling a little.

"Please don't give yourself a concussion over a compliment, Arlert"

"Um, sorry, I just-" he sighed, trying to calm down "that was a little unexpected, that's all"

"Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" Ev said, face way more serious.

"You don't make me uncomfortable" he assured them "In fact it's quite the opposite"

Okay he lied a little bit, Ev did make him uncomfortable. Not on purpose though, Armin was always overthinking their interactions, and that made him uncomfortable. Ev didn't reply, but Armin noticed how they were not looking at him anymore.

"I really mean it" they finally said "you're very cool, Armin"

"So are you" he smiled at them.

The car fell silent again, but not as awkward as before. Armin couldn't help but feel like 'you're very cool' was not really what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell them how pretty they were, how their infinite rambling about random historical facts were adorable, about their cute quirks and mannerisms. Armin wanted to say more than he should, he was feeling things he shouldn't feel.

"So" Ev broke the silence "After almost four months of studying with you, I can say I'll miss you dying of boredom next to me during classes"

He laughed a little, it was surely a very boring class.

"I think I might take a few more classes in history, what do you suggest?"

"I think one of my favorite professors is going to teach History of Private Life. Armin, you're gonna love this! It's full of historical gossip and we can judge everyone during our study sessions!"

Ev was excitedly telling him about all the possibilities, giving him reasons to take that class (as if Armin could keep himself away from them at this point).

"Thank you again for the ride, Ev" he said once they parked near his home.

"You're always welcome"

Before Armin could open the door he felt them grasp the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Armin"

He nodded, encouraging them to speak.

"I..." they let go of his sleeve "nevermind, maybe another day"

"You're sure? I'm all ears"

"Yes, yes! It's not important enough to say now. I can wait" they said, seemingly upset.

He wanted to ask again, try to understand why they seemed to change moods so suddenly, but he let it go. Despite their four months as classmates, he didn't want to intrude on Ev's privacy. No matter how familiarly terrible that scenario was for him.

"Okay, Ev. We can talk about it when you feel more comfortable, okay?"

They nodded, still not looking at Armin but visibly less rigid. While the car drove away, Armin felt heavy and lost. He couldn't help but remember the last time he had a conversation like that, when his ex was preparing to break things up for weeks but kept giving up last minute. He knew this wasn't the same situation since him and Ev were not dating, but he felt the same anxiety as before. The anxiety that someone might leave you behind and close their chapter in your life suddenly.

Armin hated to admit that he shed some tears that night.

___

It was about 10 a.m. when a notification alerted Armin that he had a message, which he quickly looked into.

Ev: Aaaaarmeeeen

Ev: Armin

Ev: professor posted the grades!!!!!

You: Finally, it's almost the end of summer break

Ev: WAIT DONT LOOK YET

Ev: Lets look together pls, I can pick u up and we can open it together

Ev: And eat our happiness or depression together depending on results

You: Sure sure

Ev: on my way in 10, darling

He blushed hard at the endearment. They didn't do this often but Armin felt funny things when they called him 'darling' or 'handsome'. He shook his head and decided to change to more presentable clothes.

"Where are you going?" Eren said when he crossed the kitchen door. The other man was heating up some pizza from last evening.

"A friend invited me to go out"

Eren's stupid smirky face went even more stupid.

"You mean the one who constantly drives you around, spoils you with food and conveniently is crushing on you HARD?"

"You're fucking annoying most of the time, you know that?"

Eren laughed.

"And they are NOT crushing on me, Eren"

"Oh yes they are, I only saw the two of you together once and they had heart eyes and all, Arlert"

Armin ignored him and left the apartment once Ev announced they arrived.

"Have a nice date!" Eren yelled.

"Fuck you, Jaeger" Armin replied back.

He jumped into the familiar car, greeting Ev. They looked beautifull that day, he had to keep himself from staring at them for too long. Maybe two weeks off made him forget how used he was to seeing Ev regularly.

"Ready?" they said, taking their phone out.

Both of them were sitting in a small coffee shop, waiting for their orders to arrive. Armin pulled his phone out and logged into the uni's system, clicking on the PCAS subject and grades. He nodded to Ev, who silently counted to three.

"YESSS" they happily celebrated "I got an 8, which is honeslty more than I expected. You?"

"I passed too" Armin said.

"How much?"

He did not want to say. What if Ev got upset? He wanted them to be happy and not bummed that a pshycology major got a 9 on a subject he wasn't even good at!

"Not important, let's eat"

"Armeeeeeen"

"Food, Ev. Food!"

"Come ooon, I wanna see. You worked so hard, I want to know if my teachings were good"

Armin sighed, showing them the pdf with his report.

"A nine? Armin that's fucking amazing!!! I'm so proud of you"

They offered their hand for a high five, and Armin couldn't resist not giving one.

"I knew you would get a good grade, you're incredibly smart"

"Only because I had a good teacher"

They shared their meal of happiness, while trash talking the professor and planning for the next class they wanted to take together. Armin was incredibly happy that they would be able to see each other for six more months. He wanted to have as much time as he could by their side, for as long as Ev wanted him around.

"Do you wanna go for a walk? It's such a nice day" Armin offered, looking at how beautiful the park nearby was looking that day.

Ev nodded eagerly and both left the small coffee shop, crossing the street to reach the park. There were a few people around with their kids and pets, but not enough to crowd the place. Armin guided Ev to a quiet area where they could watch the dogs play in the distance.

"I like this" Ev commented "when we hang out outside of study hours"

"Yeah, me too" Armin replied "It's nice knowing you"

"It's nice knowing you too, even your sassy side"

He got all red again. It's not like he wants to be sassy, but it helps him cope with stress. He tried to ignore his flushed cheeks and ears, he did not need Ev teasing him for that.

"Hey Armin" they said after a few moments of silence "do you remember that night before the final? When I wanted to say something?"

He was not red from embarassment anymore, but his face started to feel hot again from the sheer anxiety that settled on his stomach. He hoped they were fast, if it was bad news.

"I just wanted to say that I really like you, and all the things we do together. I have to admit I was a little worried we would never see each other again"

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was scared that once we didn't share a class anymore we wouldn't have any reason to hang out"

He was also afraid of that, but knowing Ev was just as worried eased his mind. That could only mean they at least enjoyed Armin's presence the same way he enjoyed theirs.

"Hey, you're not getting rid of me. Who's going to help me get another 9 and also make me laugh with weird historical facts?"

Ev smiled and softly shoved him.

"You would never survive without me"

"Sure I wouldn't"

He looked at them softly, feeling less anxious and hopeful of their near future. Ev got closer to him, brushing their shoulders together and eventually their hands. Armin wanted to hold their hand so bad, but he waited for Ev to make a move to make sure he did not mistook things. He wanted to make sure he was not reading too much into Ev and end up making them uncomfortable.

"Armin, is it okay if I hold your hand?"

Armin's brain almost had a short circuit right there and then. They wanted to hold his hands, Ev wanted to hold Armin Arlert's hands! He nodded quickly, absolutely not trusting his words to even be coherent.

"You're so cute" they commented.

He felt their fingers lace on his own and both hands were sweaty, of course. Armin didn't care that much as long as he could feel their hand on his for a little longer.

#aot #attack on titan #armin arlert #eren jaeger #snk #mikasa ackerman #aot x reader #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x yn

[miercolaes]

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁   ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️(i apologize in advance)

alias / name : veronica, vero

birthday : june 12

zodiac sign : gemini

height : last time i checked 159cm / 5ft2 ???

hobbies : writing, drawing, visiting haunted places, watching movies, sfx makeup because i gave up on normal makeup (can't do an eyeliner without a tiktok filter...), video games

favorite color : purple, red, black

current book : interview with the vampire (i was supposed to look into interviews as a data collecting method but oh well...)

last song : the great war by taylor swift / frunzuliță, iarbă deasă by subcarpați (romanian song if any1's interested, here's the song and the translated lyrics if you're curious)

last film / show : miller's girl / family guy

inspiration : goodreads quotes on different topics, all addams canon material, this one wednesday addams playlist, edgar allan poe's work (got a complete tales and poems and i randomly open it and read for inspo), my own past experiences (be it information from uni or stuff i've experienced), witchcraft i grew up with, horror movies

story behind url : previously woednesdayaddams, after a while i found it too long so i switched to a shorter version. miercolaes meaning wednesday but in spanish and tbh it was easier to remember since spanish is a latin / romance language (fun fact in my language wednesday translates as miercuri, but that was already taken and didn't fit with the addams lore)

fun fact about me : the reason i'm currently studying marketing is because i know i'd be godmodding irl had i chose security studies (think cia but for another nation) or probation. i've seen enough movies to know how it'll end. like i wouldn't imagine being professional if i had the ta.te brothers in front of me. they also managed to get arrested again so there's that.

tagged by your friendly neighbourhood @freakarus ily s

tagging : the legend that is @havvkinsqueen , the gore queen i adore @peachwrites / @anthrcpophagi , the sexy gorgeous addams family member @silent-stripes , the hippie mom @pierprincess along with her @nancewheelr & @wildhecrt brand , the one who accepts my morbid child @swervdcity and their dead princess @stvrsold , my morbid twin @wickedslip and if you haven't done it already, you (in a joe goldberg kind of way)

#♱ vero stfu. #crossing fingers u won't unfollow me now that u know im a gemini #i dont have two faces im more like joker than i'd like to admit #if u get the reference ily

[mariaofdoranelle]

Driving Home, Whatever That Means

Rowaelin Month 2022 — Day 3: Travel/Vacation

Fun fact: this fic was literally the only use I had from my Latin classes in college. No, they still weren’t worth it.

Also, this is based on one of my favorite irl stories, it actually happened to my best friend! Sadly, his snatcher wasn’t a hot blonde.

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,3k

、ヽ｀、ヽ｀个o(･_･｡)｀ヽ、｀ヽ、

As much as Rowan enjoyed living in Terrasen, the weather could be hard to get used to.

The summer had barely begun, the weather wasn’t nearly as humid as Doranelle’s, so how in hell did the sky start to pour so much during the small amount of time Rowan did his groceries? He was sat on a sheltered bench right outside the supermarket, waiting for the rain to pass and relieved it didn’t start while he was on the street.

“That’s some major main character energy there. What the hell are you doing staring into the rain?”

Rowan recognized Aelin Galathynius’s teasing tone before turning to greet her. They weren’t friends, but she was Aedion’s cousin and friends with Lorcan’s girlfriend, so they often bumped into each other.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Aelin sat by his side on the bench. “It’s the beginning of the summer. The world is full of possibilities, but you don’t realize it until the rain stops your autopilot lifestyle.” A dramatic pause. “And then you remember her.” Rowan raised an eyebrow, prompting her. “The long lost love you left in Doranelle. Poor...” She tilted her head, frowning. “Rowana,—“

He cracked up. “Rowana? Is that the best you can do?”

Aelin gaped in mock outrage. “You should know many people appreciate my imagination. I used to be an internet sensation as a One Direction fanfiction writer.”

“You’re joking.”

“You wish.”

He shook his head in amusement. “And why does Orynth’s finest writer spend her days in an engineering lab?”

“Nope. Work with something you love and you’ll stop loving it in a few years. Wise words from my burned out dad.”

Rowan would inquire her about this, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“I thought you’d be in Orynth by now. Isn’t Aedion there already?”

She shook her head. “I’m still here, unfortunately. I’ll grab some cake and then I’m headed home.”

Just like that, he remembered Aelin lived a few blocks away from him. It was still raining too much to go home by foot, Rowan could put his pride aside for one day and ask her a favor.

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Is there any chance you can give me a ride? I’m not with my car.”

Aelin frowned. “Sure,” she said with the most unsure voice he had ever heard from her. Maybe Rowan should’ve requested an uber or something, but she didn’t give him time to reconsider his choices. “Do you have everything in your granny cart?”

He gave her plastic bags a pointed look. “Are you cart-shaming me, turtle murderer?”

“Very much so, yes.” She snorted. “Come on, Granny, it’s getting late.”

Looking up at the raging sky, Rowan asked the gods for a little patience. Aelin was doing him a favor, he could suck up her sass for half an hour or however long it took her to buy cake and then head home.

Aelin took the opposite side from their neighborhood and broke the silence after a few blocks.

“So. You’re not going to Doranelle this summer, I take it?”

“Nope. I’m escaping some family drama.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Do you want me to pretend I’m not curious?”

Rowan studied her carefully. People had very different reactions to this story. “My aunt Maeve was arrested.”

“Holy rutting Mala.” Aelin gaped, somewhere between shock and amusement. “What happened?”

“She was the head of a drug cartel.”

Aelin barked a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“My dad really wishes I was.” His smile started slow, but he soon started laughing along with her.

“And you guys had no idea?”

“Not a clue. She had a money laundering front business, apparently Maeve was pretty good at her job.”

They were laughing together, until the mood shifted and Aelin started asking about his life back in Doranelle. Rowan was mostly a private person, but it felt good to share with Aelin. He almost asked her out the first time they met, but gave up after Aedion threatened to castrate every guy in their group. Even Fenrys, who is unmistakably gay. Since he barely knew her, Rowan just decided Aelin wasn’t worth the trouble and moved on. But maybe they could be friends. Actually, he really wanted them to be friends now.

She took the highway, and Rowan figured the chocolate cake she was getting was in one of the fancy restaurants near the lake. His yogurt would probably go bad, but it was fine. He was having a great time, and had never visited Perranth’s famous mountain lake before.

“Do people in Doranelle know the Old Language?”

“No, it’s a dead language. Why?”

“Your tattoo.”

He knew exactly what she meant. The weird tattoo on his upper arm.

Debellare.

Rowan sighed. “I was sixteen and got drunk for the first time. My cousin knows the whole story and has pictures to prove, but I just remember waking up and having my girlfriend’s name tattooed.”

Aelin had trouble talking because she was too busy wheezing at his expense to say anything. With adorably flushed cheeks, she managed to ask, “What was her name?”

“Remelle.”

“And what happened after?”

“We had a huge fight and broke up. I covered her name with this, which means to eliminate. My parents got pissed and I’m probably grounded until today.”

Her shoulders were still shaking as she tried to recompose herself and focus on the road. The traitor. Rowan’s catastrophic story deserved a little more sympathy than this.

“You’re a brat,” he teased

“And you’re so dumb,” she chortled again. “God, this story made the trip worth it already.”

The trip? Something immediately dawned on him. They were pretty far from the city, it really looked like a trip. Where the hell they were going?

“Yeah. About that, where exactly is this chocolate cake?”

Aelin grimaced. “In Suria. I should’ve told you before, sorry.”

“Is Suria a patisserie?” It surely wasn’t Suria the city. It couldn’t be.

“In my defense, the buses to Orynth have so many stops along the way it takes almost as long to get there. Even with our detour.”

“Aelin.” he didn’t know what to think or say, so his mouth opened and closed a few times before continuing, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re the one who asked me for a ride.”

Rowan felt his chest tingle. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he carefully said, “You told me you were going home.”

“Yeah, home to Orynth.”

Orynth.

They were going to Orynth.

Rowan froze. Time slowed down, and his muscles went completely numb.

There was no way he was going to Orynth.

His weekly groceries would go bad.

He trusted Lorcan with a lot of things, but taking care of the plants wasn’t one of them.

He didn’t even have a spare underwear.

Rowan breathed in. And out. Inhaled. And exhaled. He swallowed. It would be fine.

Clearing her throat, Aelin tried to get his attention. “You okay?”

“My house won’t be,” he said while staring into the void.

She chuckled. “Come on, you don’t trust Lorcan to take care of it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So why do you two live together?”

Sighing, he answered, “He’s quiet. When he’s not breaking the dishes, at least.”

Aelin bit her lip. “I can leave you at a station in Suria—“

“That would be much apprecia—“

“Or I can take you to Orynth, give you Aedion’s clothes, and show you the city.”

An Ashryver suggesting the impulsive option. Shocking. “I’m not sure—“

“Come on, you’ve been living in Terrasen for years now. Have you ever left Perranth?”

Rowan’s limbs started loosening, and he turned to look at Aelin, who was eagerly waiting for him to answer her. Mulling it over, he knew she had a point. And they were already halfway there.

He sighed. “I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

Aelin winked at him and teased, “You don’t know half of my charm, Whitethorn.”

“Okay, then. If my house is in shreds when I get home, you’ll use your charm to make Lorcan fix it alone,” he added, knowing his roommate wasn’t Aelin’s biggest fan.

When Aelin started cheering his decision to go to Orynth with her, Rowan began to wonder what the hell had he gotten himself into.

TAG LIST:

@elentiyawhitethorn

@rowanaelinn

@leiawritesstories

@thegreyj

@autumnbabylon

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin

[supernaturalinguist]

sending this as an ask just so I don’t make you scroll past a super long post to see it but to answer your question: that guy is Fate from the game Death and Taxes (basically a game about being a grim reaper in an office)! he’s the player character’s boss and creator (and in most endings the game’s antagonist) and he gives them broad instructions on what profiles to mark for death. He’s a nerd with a pretty voice who chuckles at his own bad puns and loves his cat (he puts her in charge when he’s not around) and is sick of his job and wants to be a writer and is implied to have depression. I can’t fix him but I can love him enough to give him the motivation to fix himself.

What about you? What’s the deal with your guy? I’m not familiar with LA By Night but he looks interesting.

- superliminalselfships

@superliminalselfships

Hello!! Thank you for the ask, I’ve been meaning to answer it but executive dysfunction sucks for tasks even the tasks I’d want to do….

Fate sounds like such a neat character, I totally understand why you’d F/O him!! I too love nerds with nice voices who love cats and bad puns :) I guess I have to play the game now!

Ah, and my best favorite boy Jasper! How to describe him in a way that does him justice… He’s a vampire (kindred, as they’re called) from the VTM TTRPG live play series L.A By Night; a Nosferatu (yes they tend to look like Nosferatu from the movies—he is self described as “tall, pale, bald, gross-looking with black veins all over his body”, but I personally find him to be quite lovely. His actor/player is super cool too!)

Jasper can be snarky but he’s overall a polite lad, albeit with a tendency to snarl and make other monstrous noises and movements. He has a decent heart despite his rough past, treats the people he considers friends well, and has a penchant for self loathing expressed by taking high amounts of damage in place of other characters/ putting himself in horribly dangerous positions.

He lives in Los Angeles above a giant underground labyrinth which he spends much of his time studying—he’s a very cerebral vampire, he loves (like most of his Nosferatu brethren) to solve puzzles and crack codes, learning about the occult and he knows both Latin and Greek!)

I don’t want to spoil you in case you ever watch the show, of course. But please do know that I could literally talk about Jasper forever and never get tired. I have an actual literal spreadsheet I’m working on filled with fun facts about him.

Also needless to say I have a burning and consistent desire to give him a hundred million cuddles and kind words and kisses.

#🎭

[bacchilles]

some people in my roommate’s class were apparently making fun of this guy who’s doing a gladiator story for his final writing project because the guy mentioned how Roman slavery wasn’t based on race and they were all like “noooo it TOTALLY was he probably just watched I, Claudius one time and called it a day lmao i took an ancient history class once i know im right” and im just like . ben affleck smoking.jpg

#he's right??? the romans didnt have the same concept of race as we do today bc modern perception of race began in the ~1400s or so #(maybe a little later i cant remember exactly) #but racism as we know it didn't exist in the ancient mediterranean? it was more xenophobia than anything else #and by god if you want to criticize the romans (which is my favorite pastime) there are a BILLION other things you can call them out for #for one thing! SLAVERY! fucked up no matter if racism was part of it or not!! #the genocide! the war crimes! the oligarchy/monarchy! the horrific legends of how the city was founded! #but Rome was a fairly heterogeneous population. there were black/brown emperors! #they would enslave those they conquered and that often turned out to be people from SW Asia or North Africa but it also included N. Europe #jhrjhg maybe im throwing stones in a glass house but i hate when people apply modern systems/concepts to ancient history w/o nuance #also i know for a fact that the guy studied latin for a long time and his uncle's a latin professor at the university #so i feel like he probably knows what he's talking about to some degree

[beevean]

SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik​]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #amy rose #translation #long post #whew #this one was a doozy #but super interesting #thanks again latin for writing these long ass sonamy posts

[hotdemonsummer]

Obey Me! and Angelology and Demonology

 alternatively titled Lets Get Into Lucifer

This is yet another long, long post about the lore of Obey Me! from the perspective of historical and theological angelology, and demonology or the study of angels and demons respectively, because I think it’s neat. I also talk way too much. I’m scared to check the word count on this.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on anything, and certainly not on religion. I just like comparative theology. Also, spoilers for lesson 43/44.

What is an angel? And what, in turn, is a demon? It depends on who you ask. All religions that have angels have a general consensus that they are spiritual beings, intermediaries of some kind of higher power. Demons, on the other hand, are much more vague beyond general malevolence toward humanity. Any connection between the two is entirely dependent on the culture and religion in question. Some have angels but not demons, and many have vice versa.

There’s generally four kinds of spirits that are considered demons:

Dead people with extremely bad vibes (think mogwai, yuurei, and other revenants)

Neutral-to-malevolent energy, physical form optional (think djinni or yokai)

Cult subjects (including foreign gods and ancestor worship)

Corrupted angels (either fallen or Nephilim)

The word demon comes from the Greek δαίμων, or daimon, but the concept of a demon is much older than the Greeks. The original daimon had none of the malevolent, evil associations that we now think of. Instead, daimon just described a kind of powerful spiritual entity (for example, δαίμων is the term Euripides uses for the new god Dionysus in The Bacchae). What we think of as demons now didn’t exist in Greek culture, and the negative associations came when the Tanakh was translated from Hebrew to Greek, but even then shedim aren’t identical to the contemporary depiction of demons that we see in Obey Me!, which, like everything else in Western society, came about through the domination of Christianity.

Shedim, the precursor to the Christian demon, was more or less a term for false gods, a title for the various Levantine pagan gods (see: origin of Beelzebub, Belphegor, and pretty much every demon that starts with Bel- or Bal-). 

Obey Me! pretty much canonizes Type 2 and Type 4 demons, with characters like Diavolo, Barbatos, and Satan as Type 2 and the other brothers as Type 4. Historically, Beelzebub and Belphegor are Type 3 (Beelzebub and Belphegor being Levantine gods), Mammon being Type 2 (a general personification of Wealth, although Milton did write him as a Type 4 in Paradise Lost) and Asmodeus being somewhere in between Type 2 and 3 (being heavily derived from a Zoroastrian daeva of wrath). Lucifer is, historically, the only consistently Type 4 demon.

I don’t think I have to explain what a fallen angel is to any OM! fan. But I will. 

Let’s talk about these guys. We’re all familiar with Satan’s weird complex about Lucifer, and I’m sure we’re all equally familiar with how Satan and Lucifer are terms used interchangeably for whatever being is The Big Bad of Hell. However, they’re not synonymous.

Satan derives from the same Proto-Semitic root as shayatan, which... should be pretty obvious, but nonetheless has a pretty analogous role as a tempter of men in the Abrahamic religions. Beyond that “tempter of men” title, though, the actual details of what Satan is is incredibly varied, including whether or not “Satan” is a name or a title. In Christianity, the view of Satan as an extremely powerful and evil corrupter of man, wholly opposed to God, came around the Middle Ages, when witchcraft hysteria spread.

Lucifer, on the other hand, is simultaneously a figure originating in Christianity and much, much older than it. The term of course means “light-bringer”, and is heavily associated with the morning star, aka the planet Venus. To make a very long story short, many Mesopotamian, Levantine, and Mediterranean cultures saw the lowering of Venus toward the horizon at night and thought, “hey, thats a pretty neat image!” and created stories about heavenly beings falling toward the earth. Of course, they didn’t use the ‘term’ Lucifer, that’s Latin, and came from the Vulgate Bible.

The term Lucifer does not exclusively refer to The Evil Fallen Angel™ in Christian texts (some very sacred things like the Exsultet explicitly refer to Jesus as Lucifer), but it sure is the most popular interpretation. In works like Paradise Lost or the Divine Comedy, the general idea is that the angel Lucifer rebelled against God in some way and was cast out of Heaven, then becoming Satan, and thus the two are one and the same.

(inb4 some Quora-type chews me out for accuracy’s sake, the “lucifer” mentioned in Isaiah 14:12 refers not to any angel, but to a Babylonian king. The whole fallen angel thing, much like the beatitudes or Bethlehem or Christmas, is a fusion of pagan influences.)

In other words, Lucifer is always and has always been a fallen angel. Satan, on the other hand, doesn’t have those connections to angelhood, and the two figures have an undeniable connection despite their clear individual differences. Sound familiar?

The next question is then what kind of angel is Lucifer anyway? to which you might be thinking, wait, there are different kinds? Yes, holy shit, there are so many kinds of angels and very little consensus on what they are. In terms of Christian angelology (because again, Lucifer is a uniquely Christian/derivative Christian figure unless you exclude Leland’s Aradia which I don’t because lbr they were Italian anyways), most hierarchies are based on the work of this guy:

This man has the incredibly succinct name of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, and sometime in the 5th century he wrote a book called De Coelesti Hierarchia. It orders the *WTNV voice* hierarchy of angels into three levels called spheres, and each sphere has three sub-levels called choirs. Many, but not all, of the choirs are adopted from various Jewish angelic hierarchies. If you thought that it was just angels and then archangels were, like, the middle management version of angels then you are very wrong. I’m sorry that television lied.

You know who also lied? Tumblr dot com and any post that implies that the true form of angels is a big wheel with a bunch of eyes. That is, in fact, a descriptor for only one kind of angel: ophanim, or thrones. The depiction of angels runs the gamut from winged humanoids to multi-winged humanoids with multiple animal heads to burning snakes to vague heavenly mist.

Archangels and angels are the eighth and ninth lowest choirs of angels, respectively. Angels, or malakhim, are the default messengers of God and the choir from which guardian angels come from. Generally, if someone claims to have a message from God delivered to them, it will be an angel doing it. If it’s really important, it’ll be an archangel. Everyone else literally has more important things to do. No one’s getting visions from dominions.

Lucifer’s (the theological one) actual designation is kind of a mystery. Depending on the text, Lucifer has been described as a seraph (the highest), a cherub (the second highest), or an archangel (the eighth). According to Thomas Aquinas:

Lucifer, chief of the sinning angels, was probably the highest of all the angels. But there are some who think that Lucifer was highest only among the rebel angels.

Not very helpful, but hey. The question remains: what kind of angel is Lucifer, and this time I mean our Lucifer. 

We know that Michael, just like his namesake, is an archangel. We also know that (SPOILERS) Simeon, unlike his namesake, is an archangel as well (Simeon is a saint, not an angel.) Lucifer likely was at their level, if not higher.

However, Lucifer was also a six-winged angel, a depiction generally reserved for seraphim (and cherubim, but far less frequently).

Moreover, in terms of role, an angellic Lucifer fits well with that of the powers, the sixth choir. Powers are in charge of moving the heavenly bodies, and are depicted as powerful warriors dressed in beautiful armor. It's fitting for a being so closely tied to the morning star to be a power, after all.

So, with all that considered, what is Lucifer? 

Well, he’s a seraph (or saraph, technically). Why? Because Simeon is somehow a seraph and an archangel (I have already written too much to unpack that bullshit), and Mammon was a throne (remember those wheels with eyes?) and Beel was a cherub and therefore Lucifer had to be higher than both of them (interestingly big brother Mammon is in a lower choir than little brother Beel). This makes Michael kind of, well... weird, given the archangels’ low rank.

Some like to differentiate between archangel the eighth choir and Archangel, with a capital A, as a term for any high-ranking angel. While this is likely what Solmare is doing, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this has zero basis in any religious text whatsoever and is solely done for the convenience of not remembering anything besides angel and archangel. Which is like, fine, but I’m a pedantic jerk who I found claims to the contrary while researching and I felt the need to correct that.

Anyways, the more you know.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me theories #obey me demonology #obey me angelology #obey me lucifer #my theories #YEEHAW that was a lot. my god #anyways besties dont let this flop

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

[thebindingofpillo]

As promised, it’s Judas time. My favorite boy. I’ve loved him since I saw his little funny fez in the vanilla version, so this is probably gonna be very long and all over the place. I’m also ditching the four headcanons format, because i have a LOT to say about him and I can’t fit it into four little neat categories.

Okay, so. Judas is an asshole. Definetly was the kind of person to “well acshually” every single conversation, the type of guy you’d find ranting about how schewpid humanity is, and who berates you for being religious because “hurr durr you’re too old to have imaginary friends”. A real little shit. No wonder he didn’t have a single friend all throughout elementary and middle school (ugh, of course they don’t wanna be my friends, they can’t handle me, i’m too smart for them yada yada we all knew a guy like this). In high school he finally met Maggy and Isaac, who just moved from the country and actually tried to reach out to him. Isaac was the first to approach him because, well… he actually remembered Judas. From another lifetime. From several lifetimes in fact, and he knew already they were bound to meet eachother someway or another. Obviously Judas started his usual asshole spiel, but Maggy was ready to call him out on his bullshit. Something something enemies to friends, and the three became inseparable. Anyway yeah, Judas managed to grow out of his fedora-adjacent phase and become a somewhat okay individual. He’s not abrasive like he was in highschool, but still suffers from resting bitch face, and if you don’t know him well he’ll probably speak to you in a condescending tone while looking down on you. Literally. The guy is tall.

His interest in the occult started around his teenage years, both as a way to shock his grandmother by doing a “bad” thing right under her nose, and because it’s a really sophisticated matter, you wouldn’t get it. But really, he probably watched a horror movie with Maggy and got hooked up on the spooky stuff. From his humble beginnings on creepypasta wikis to actually browsing antique bookstores in search of the perfect grimoire. He may or may not have studied Latin at this point. This is also the time he found the Book of Belial. It wasn’t the first time in his many reincarnations, but he had never been so young while holding the book. I honestly don’t know exactly how he acquired the book. Maybe it really was in an antique bookstore, or at the back of the public library, or gathering dust on a display in a museum, waiting for him to fall into it’s trap. Maybe it was a gift, a parting one given by a friend never seen again, or an unusual birthday present given by a relative never seen before. Judas too, isn’t so sure. Did he buy it, did he steal it? Did he find it by pure chance? Maybe he always had it. Maybe the book has always had him. Anyway, his interest in the occult actually evolved into a love for anything ancient, which eventually got him his degree in Archaeology (maybe at the time of the story he’s working on his PhD? Would that be interesting? idk). His other great academic achievement was dating Maggy during the last year of highschool and moving in together during college.

Moving on, did I mention his grandma? It’s time to talk about his grandma. This part of his story actually got a bit shuffled around, because at first I imagined he grew up in the foster care (where he maybe met Isaac for the first time?), never getting adopted until one day he simply aged out of the system and was left to fend on his own. But I eventually scrapped it because it sounded a bit too cliché. What didn’t change is that his parents are both very dead. They perished in a car accident while he was still a baby, and he grew up with his grandmother, a… weird woman to say the least, and not in a good way. Extremely petty, selfish and self.centered and only warm when Judas was an agreeable young boy and let her do what she wanted. Judas’s grandma wasn’t really keen on caring for children (her own son, Judas’s father, had very few fond memories of her), so it’s really no wonder he turned out the way he did. When he was old enough, our boy just got out of the door and never came back. He’s still in touch with her (lest she thinks he died, and who would take his inheritance then?) but their encounters are always somewhat formal and tense.

To end on a funny note, this is his voice claim. No i will NOT take criticism

#this might not even be all but i'm too tired to elaborate further #if you want to know more just ask i'll answer in the morning #FUCK it's almost midnight #reincarnation AU (working title) #tboi judas

[therianterritory]

Wolf behavior nuanced by human behavior

Hello hello, I go through the jungle of the Therian Community pretty much daily. I didn't need more than a year to know that therians love to express and talk about the urges, behaviors, and instincts of their theriotype. Logical, of course, it's what the community is about, to talk to people who experience the same thing. But something I often notice is that therians tend to link almost anything to their therianthropy. Of course, therianthropy can influence a person's life greatly. But something important we tend to forget is the fact that humans are also still animals. Even though we have evolved far enough to let our intelligence dominate our instincts, we still unconsciously display instinctive behavior 24/7. If I'd be a fly on your wall and observe you for a little bit, I could point out several behaviorisms that you didn't even think about doing.

Upon questioning a theriotype and examining your therianthropic behavior, it's always important to divide the instinctive human behavior from the non-human animal. I'm not saying some behavior can't be both, in fact, I believe a lot of therianthropy can be influenced by human behavior and the other way around. I often notice myself doing some wolf-like things, and then think to myself if that is normal for a human being to do as well. I am also in no way trying to debunk therianthropy, of course, why would I?

I wanted to dedicate this post to nuancing some often talked about wolf behaviors by comparing them to similar human behaviors. Of course with every human instinct and behavior, it is important to rather compare it to the times when we were still living in tribes, because that's the time where instincts were still crucial to our survival. Because that's what most behaviors and instincts are about: survival.

1. Packs We'll start off easy. A lot of therians express their desire for finding a therian pack. I sometimes hear wolf therians saying it's because their "inner wolf" desperately tries to find some soulmates to be family with. But in reality, as most of you may know, humans are also seriously drawn to forming groups (even with a hierarchy system). This is because it is essential to someone's survival to stick with a group. It's that sense of "belonging" that people are actually after, and that's okay.

2. Being a "lone" wolf Opposite to the human urge to form groups, a lot of therians claim they don't want to be in a pack and that they're generally anti-social. They believe that the lone wolf stays alone and completely fine with this. First of all, a lone wolf is never alone by choice, because every lone wolf either seeks a mate to start a pack with or has walked away/was driven away from their pack to find rest and die. A wolf being alone and staying alone voluntarily goes entirely against their nature, as wolves are pack animals. Now to look at human behaviors, social capabilities really variate per person. Every human eventually has to distance themselves from groups to recharge that social battery. Some people have a very long-running one, and some have a very short-running one. Even tho it may seem to go against that group-forming instinct, it's still a very normal human thing to do.

3. Curling up I often hear wolf therians whine about the fact that their human body is incapable of curling up the way a wolf does when they sleep. I speak from experience that this can indeed be a struggle, as it seems incredibly comfortable. But even though a wolf naturally curls up when they sleep, humans actually also have a rooted urge to curl up or at least make themselves small when they sleep. This posture stems from the fetal posture we had when we were still in our mother's womb. It was scientifically proven that reenacting this position gives a sense of protection. 40% of people actually sleep in this position. [source]

4. The Weather & the seasons I've heard quite some therians mention that the weather and the changes of the season have a great effect on the amount and severity of their shifts. I have the same, and I am not denying that shifts get influenced by these factors. But it is important to note that humans, in fact, also get greatly influenced by weather and seasons. The greatest proof of this is Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) which is the occurrence of a person dealing with great mood swings and states of depression based on the time of the year. A lot of people feel more depressed during winter, for example. This also has to do with the amount of sunlight in comparison to summer. But factors like storms and snow also affect people's moods. It can make them excited and/or tensed.

5. Therian Territory ;) A lot of (wolf) therians such as myself have a big tendency to claim territory in a variety of ways. Wolves mark their territory by urinating everywhere. Although not every therian feels comfortable sharing their potential urges to urinate on trees like so, territorial urges are still expressed within the community. But have you ever wondered why people look for houses to live in? And why there is such a distinct border between what is your private property and the plain unclaimed sidewalk? Territory is linked to social status, for this reason, people often buy bigger houses when they earn more money than average, simply to claim space. In this article, there is some good evidence that human territoriality is, in fact, different from other animals.

6. Alphas This is actually the only point that I'd really like to debunk: what was once known as the wolf hierarchy. When wolves were being studied thoroughly, about their pack system, their behaviors, and body language, they were studied by putting a bunch of unrelated wild wolves in an enclosure. In order to survive, the alpha-beta-omega system formed, and this false theory was spread throughout the entire world. In reality, wolf packs are nothing more than families. The supposed "alphas" are simply the elders or parents of the pack. The betas are often the big sisters, and the omegas would be the pups.The funny part about this theory is that it was later discovered that apes, in fact, do have this hierarchy system... including humans. When humans form a group (not talking about families here), they will actually subconsciously create such a hierarchy system. There's often a leader (alpha), the people who follow that leader (beta), and the people who walk on the sideline, aren't taken as seriously or are even being a little neglected by the rest (omega). 7. Drawn to nature While most therians are particularly drawn to nature-like sceneries, more so than more people, humans in fact still generally feel more connected to nature than the city life. Living in cities is, in my opinion, more of a result of people staying together for better survival and being able to take a shorter distance to work. But naturally, humans have a deep connection with nature. In the world of biology, this is apparently called Biophilia (philia is a New Latin noun-combining form to describe a fondness or love for a specific subject). More about Biophilia can be found in this article.

In all honesty, a lot of therianthropic urges and behaviorism can have some type of nuance from our human nature. It does not make our Therianthropy any less valid (yes, I said the v-word :laugh: ). With this knowledge, I just hope that people are now able to make a better distinction between wolf and human behavior. So I hoped this helped a little, in case you're questioning an animal or researching some therianthropy roots.

Feel free to critique this piece as it was partially from my own memory from a couple of years of research, I'm not trying to play the all-knowing wolf here. I'd also love to know if you guys know more of these wolf behaviors that could be nuanced by human behavior! How many of these did you know about?

#therian #therianthropy #psychological therianthropy #wolf behavior #wolf nature #human behavior #human nature #therians #Wolftherian #therianterritory

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter One

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3, Tumblr Master Post

Chapter One

“Lightwood’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

“You know,” Izzy said, “that joke would land a lot better if you hadn’t turned green last week when I mentioned getting to do my first cadaver dissection.”

“First of all,” Jace said, abandoning his laptop in favor of flopping back onto his bed, “it’s creepy that you say ‘getting to’ instead of ‘having to.’ And second of all, no one wants to hear about how much fun you had slicing up dead bodies over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Max wanted to hear about it.”

“Max also can’t wait to get to middle school because he heard you get to use actual fire in science class,” Jace pointed out.

“Max is just into science like his big sister,” Izzy countered breezily. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Please,” Jace said with far more enthusiasm than the situation probably warranted. “I’m desperate enough for any distraction that will take me away from trying to memorize third declensions that I would love to discuss whatever family holiday drama is so colossal I’m hearing it from you instead of Alec. Is Robert planning to show up uninvited to Christmas dinner with his girlfriend again? Oh! Did Mom finally snap and kill him? Is that why Alec isn’t calling? Is he helping her hide the body?”

“Oh my god,” Izzy laughed. “Dad and Annamarie are spending the holidays in Provance with her family, and there are no bodies to be hidden. This is what you get for taking Latin instead of Spanish like a sane person.”

“This coming from a woman who’s studying both,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah, because a basic understanding of Latin and fluency in Spanish will both help me get into med school, and I need all the help I can get if I’m going to get into Grossman. Besides, I’d never imply anyone in this family is sane. If you studied more, you’d know that ‘Lightwood’ is just Latin for ‘totally fucking cracked.’”

“Please,” Jace snorted. “It’s not even a Latinate name. It’s Germanic. ‘Lightwood’ is Old English for ‘totally fucking cracked.’ Speaking of which, what’s the Christmas disaster?”

“It’s not a disaster exactly,” Izzy hedged, and Jace felt a sudden frisson of actual unease. Izzy normally had no problem speaking her mind. “It’s not a disaster at all, actually. It’s just. I invited someone.”

“Oh.” Jace relaxed. He didn’t know why Izzy was making such a big deal out of this. In the years since the divorce, Maryse had often encouraged her kids to invite any friends without a place to go to join them for holidays. Izzy’s own roommate had come for Thanksgiving last year. “That’s cool.”

“No,” Izzy said, like he was missing something obvious. “Jace, I invited someone. Someone I’m seeing. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Jace said again, this time with dawning comprehension. “That’s great, Iz. I’m happy for you. Wait, Mom’s not doing her overprotective, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-children thing again, is she? Is that why you called, you need me to run interference?”

“No, no,” Izzy reassured him, although her voice still held an underlying tension. “Mom’s been great, actually. They knew each other already, so that probably helps.” Jace heard a shaky inhale before Izzy continued. “You, um. You know her, too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Jace said with forced ease, wracking his brain for any clue as to what could have Izzy so freaked out. Whatever it was, Jace wasn’t going to add to her stress. As far as he knew, Isabelle had never even been serious enough about someone before to even use the term girlfriend or boyfriend, let alone bring them home for Christmas. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s Clary,” Izzy said in a rush. “I’m dating Clary.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Jace was glad he was already lying down.

“Clary?” he repeated. “M—” He just barely stopped himself from saying “my Clary.” Because she wasn’t, not anymore. Not for a long time. “Morgenstern?” It was a clumsy recovery, but it was the best he could manage. “You’re dating Clary Morgenstern?”

Jace and Clary had met at the beginning of Jace’s junior year of high school. Clary, a year younger, had just lost her mom, and the two initially bonded over the shared experience of having lost parents. But Clary was fierce and bold and so full of passion even in the depths of her grief that Jace really couldn’t help falling in love with her. They’d dated for nearly two years—practically forever in high school terms—and even though they’d both known they were growing apart by the time Jace had to choose between his first-choice college in Boston and staying in New York to go to NYU, Clary would always hold a special place in Jace’s heart as his first love.

“Yeah,” Izzy said on a heavy exhale. “For a while now. That—that’s why I called. I didn’t want it to be weird, you know? For us all to just show up and for it to be a surprise. But I guess I probably shouldn’t have done it over the phone, either. I just didn’t think—”

“Izzy,” Jace said, much more calmly than he felt. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“God, I should have told you sooner,” Izzy continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “I just knew it probably would be weird for you, so I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure—”

“But you are now,” Jace interrupted again. It wasn't really a question. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed. “I’m so sure.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Jace lied. “I mean, come on, my sister is dating someone who makes her happy and who I know will treat her right. What kind of idiot would I have to be to complain about that?”

“Really?” Izzy pressed. “Because I told Clary I wanted to talk to you before we finalized plans. So, if it is weird for you, or even if you just don’t want to be the only single person at the table on Christmas—”

“I won’t be,” Jace interrupted.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Izzy squealed so loud Jace had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Oh my god, Jace! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you just say you were bringing someone, too, you jackass? Do you know how worried I’ve been about telling you about me and Clary?”

Which wasn’t what he’d meant at all—he’d only meant that Maryse was single, too—but Jace couldn’t resist the excitement in Izzy’s voice, not after her earlier panic.

“If I’d known you were all freaked out, I would have said something sooner,” Jace improvised. “It’s kind of new, and I haven’t even had the chance to tell Mom yet.”

“Let me,” Izzy insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her to admit that she and Luke are an item for ages, and maybe knowing that we’re all happily attached will be the push she needs.”

“Hold up. Mom…and Clary’s stepdad?” Jace was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre stress nightmare brought on by impending finals.

“Yup,” Izzy confirmed, popping the “p.” “They’re not even subtle about how much time they’re spending together, but Mom keeps talking about how they’re ‘just old friends.’” Jace could practically hear the eye roll.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if I leave now, I can catch Mom closing up the bookshop and maybe finally get her to crack. Don’t worry about Christmas plans. I’ll take care of everything. Talk to you later!”

“Iz, wait,” Jace started, but he was interrupted by the telltale beep of the call ending.

Jace stared at his phone, wondering how, exactly, he’d managed to make such a disaster of things. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he decided, tossing his phone aside. He just had to get through finals, and then he could come up with some excuse for why his nonexistent girlfriend couldn’t make it for Christmas. An excuse that wouldn’t make Izzy suspicious. Or Clary. Or Alec. Or— Fuck. Not thinking about it.

He turned his attention back to his laptop only to realize after several minutes of staring blankly that he wasn’t prepared to think about Latin anymore, either. Fuck it. He was going to spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching stupid people doing stupid things on TV and thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Because Jace just couldn’t catch a break, he found both the couch and TV already in use. He wanted to be annoyed, especially since he knew this was at least the dozenth time this semester his roommate had watched Return of the Jedi. Part of him was annoyed. But another part of him was…not annoyed. And that was yet another thing Jace wasn’t going to think about.

Jace’s first impression of Simon Lewis, when he’d walked into History and Literature of Music their freshman year, had been that he was kind of hot, in a nerdy way. His second impression, when he actually talked to Simon a few days later, was that the guy was annoying as hell. Over the course of the year, as they somehow ended up hanging out with the same group of friends, it became a tolerable sort of annoying. So tolerable, in fact, that when Jace found himself desperate for a roommate the next summer when Raj bailed on him last-minute, he’d agreed to let Simon have the second room in the surprisingly affordable apartment he’d found.

Jace’s third impression of Simon came four days after they’d moved in together, when he happened to be walking down the hallway at the exact moment Simon stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, a stray droplet of water trailing down his surprisingly well-defined abs. In that moment, Jace must have lost his mind, because he had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to follow the path of that droplet with his tongue and, oh. Oh no. Jace had been wrong this entire time. Simon wasn’t just annoying. He wasn’t just nerd-hot. He was annoyingly hot.

And Jace was maybe just a little bit in trouble.

Because he’d seen the kinds of people Simon dated. Thoughtful. Driven. Well-adjusted. Unlike Jace in pretty much every way that mattered. Not that Jace dated, but he wasn’t the kind of person Simon hooked up with, either, he was pretty sure.

(Jace confessed his fourth impression of Simon to Maia several months later, after many, many shots of tequila. Maia laughed at him for a solid five minutes, but she also poured them another round and never mentioned it again after they sobered up because she was actually a pretty good friend despite how much she always seemed to enjoy Jace’s suffering.)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked around a mouthful of instant ramen. Jace refused to acknowledge that the way his cheeks puffed out when he ate was cute.

“Just.” Jace shook his head. “Holidays. Family stuff.”

“Your sister planning to make Christmas dinner again?” Simon asked.

“Worse,” Jace said, flopping onto the other end of their stained Goodwill couch. “She’s dating my ex.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, dude.” Simon poked at his noodles with a pair of well-used disposable chopsticks. “You still have feelings for your ex?”

“What? No, of course not. It was ages ago, and we were practically still kids. And the breakup was mutual.” He made a face. “But Izzy’s bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be a little awkward,” Simon conceded.

“It gets worse,” Jace admitted. “When she told me, I kind of panicked and said I was bringing someone home, too.”

Simon frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Jace told him. “Which is kind of the problem.”

“Wow. You really know how to make things difficult for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Very helpful.”

Simon shrugged, then said, as casual as if he were offering to toss Jace’s towels in with his to make a full load at the laundromat, “You could always take me home with you.”

Jace stared. “What?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in the city anyway,” Simon continued, “and it’s not like my family does Christmas. I think Mom and Becky can manage the traditional Chinese takeout and Fast and Furious marathon without me.”

“Your family watches The Fast and the Furious on Christmas?” It was the only part of that Jace was emotionally prepared to process.

“It used to be Die Hard, but Mom’s got a thing for Vin Diesel, so now we alternate years.”

Jace stared a moment longer, waiting for any of this to make sense. On the television, Boushh threatened Jabba with a thermal detonator.

“Right,” Jace said when it was clear the situation wasn’t going to make sense of itself. “Okay. Rewind to the part where I’m supposed to take you home with me for Christmas and, what, pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

He could picture it all too easily. Simon wielding his enthusiastic charm to keep Izzy out of the kitchen while Jace helped Maryse make dinner. Simon joining Alec in coaxing Jace toward the piano when it was time to sing carols. Simon flushed and smiling after a couple mugs of Magnus’s deceptively alcoholic eggnog. Simon’s hand in his because that’s just something boyfriends do.

It was a horrifyingly tempting prospect.

Jace pushed those thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest and directing all the scorn he felt at himself into the stare he leveled at Simon. “What’s that supposed to accomplish other than giving me a headache?”

“Hey,” Simon said, setting the dregs of his ramen down on their secondhand Ikea coffee table, “I’ll have you know that I make an excellent boyfriend.”

That wasn’t exactly news. The fact that Simon was friends with basically all of his exes said as much. But Jace wasn’t about to let on that he paid that much attention to Simon’s dating habits. Or to pass up such a good opening. “That why you’re single?”

“Not the one currently desperate for a holiday date here, pal,” Simon pointed out.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager to be my holiday date just a second ago,” Jace said, adding a wink just to be obnoxious.

“It was an offer, jackass. One which I now deeply regret.”

“Which you should,” Jace told him, turning to the TV and pretending to watch. “Now we can both forget this conversation ever happened, and I can go back to figuring out what I’m going to tell my family about why my nonexistent significant other can’t make it for Christmas this year.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, picking up his bowl and turning his own attention back to the movie.

Jace told himself he didn’t feel just the tiniest bit disappointed.

“The thing is,” Simon said several minutes later, as Boba Fett tumbled into the Sarlaac pit, “my cousin Rachel is getting married on Valentine’s Day. And my Bubbe Helen is still pretty cranky with me for breaking up with Maia.”

Jace frowned at him. “You and Maia dated for like a month and a half. Over a year ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Simon said, “Bubbe Helen really liked her, but I think maybe that’s because Maia’s the only person I’ve ever brought to a family function. So, I was thinking maybe if I brought someone else to Rachel’s wedding, she’d get the hint and drop the Maia thing. And then you suddenly needed someone to take home for Christmas, and I thought we could, you know, help each other out.”

It was a terrible idea, and Jace meant to say so. He really did. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “You want to introduce me to your grandmother?”

“I mean,” Simon said with a shrug, “she’d probably be happier if you were Jewish, but I honestly think she’d be happy to see me with anyone who’s not a total asshole. Ever since she found out Maia and I aren’t together anymore, she’s been acting like I’m going to end up a lonely old maid or something, which I totally don’t get, because A, I’m only twenty-one, and B, she doesn’t think it’s a problem that Becky’s single and Becky’s two years older than me.”

“Glad to know I meet the very minimal requirement of not being an asshole.”

“Not a total asshole,” Simon corrected with a teasing grin.

“You’re really making a compelling case for trying to convince our families that we’re a couple,” Jace said drily. But he was maybe just a little bit weak for Simon’s smile, so he added, “But you might as well tell me how exactly you think this would work. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Simon repeated. “Right. Well, we’d need to come up with a game plan, obviously. And rules. Rules that we actually follow, because that’s where things like this always fall apart, when someone ignores the rules.”

“Where things always fall apart,” Jace repeated. “Is this something you do often?”

“What? No! I just mean like in movies and stuff. Fake dating is practically its own genre, so we have a ton of examples for how not to do it, and…” Simon frowned as his voice trailed off. “And now that I’m saying this out loud, I’m realizing how dumb it sounds. You’re right. We should forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Or,” Jace said slowly, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself, “we could spend some time coming up with a plan and then decide if we think it will work.”

“Wait, really?” The slow grin spreading across Simon’s face did nothing to ease Jace’s sense of impending doom, but it did fill him with a soft warmth that made the doom easier to ignore.

“Why not?” Jace shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “I’m done with classes at noon tomorrow if you want to do it then.”

“I’ve got a break from then till three if you don’t mind meeting near campus,” Simon said. “Say, Java Jones at twelve-thirty?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed to the background of Jabba’s sail barge exploding. He hoped that was less metaphorical than it felt.

~~~

“I thought we were planning a couple of fake dates, not staging a major military operation,” Jace said as he surveyed the notebooks and stacks of paper strewn across the rickety cafe table in front of Simon.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, hastily shoving exactly one of the many notebooks into his backpack. “I was just reviewing notes for my econ final while I waited.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Jace asked, attempting to clear enough room on the table for his coffee and the banana muffin that was attempting to pass for lunch.

“It’s so necessary,” Simon told him, reaching over to steal a piece of Jace’s muffin. “I don’t want to end up like Melissa Joan Hart in My Fake Fiancé.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth. “Or Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy. Oh! Or even worse, Melissa Joan Hart in Holiday in Handcuffs.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon sighed heavily. “I’m saying we need clear, well-defined rules if this is going to work.”

“Is rule number one ‘don’t be Melissa Joan Hart’?” Jace asked, snatching his muffin away when Simon reached for it again and taking a pointed bite.

“No,” Simon said, with far more seriousness than Jace thought the situation warranted. “That’s rule number two. Rule number one,” he continued, opening a blue notebook to a fresh page, “is ‘absolutely no sex.’”

Jace choked on his muffin.

“If there’s one thing everyone seems to agree with, it’s that things always break down when that rule gets broken,” Simon continued as though Jace weren’t struggling to breathe around a mouthful of muffin and why Simon thought they even needed a rule for that.

Jace washed the remaining crumbs of muffin down with a generous swig of coffee, then leaned back in his chair with a deliberately cocky grin. “I mean, I know I’m damn near irresistible, but do you really think you need a rule to keep from jumping me?”

“Rule three,’’ Simon said, scribbling furiously in the notebook, “treat each other with the same respect we’d treat people we’re actually dating.”

“Hey, I would have the same question for someone I was actually dating.”

Simon looked up from the notebook. “That explains so much about your dating history.”

Jace flipped him off, and Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Nope, sorry, rule one. But,” he continued, serious once again, “we should have rules about what kind of physical affection we are comfortable with. Like, I know we don’t normally do hugs, but it would be weird if we never hugged in front of your family if we were dating, right? What about holding hands, is that too much? And what about kissing? I’m definitely cool with cheek kisses, but I don’t know—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted before he could get too worked up. Or make Jace think about more things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “You’re allowed to hug me. And hold my hand. Honestly, I’m sure I’d be fine with anything you’re comfortable doing in front of my family, so how about we just go with this: casual touches are fine and for anything else, I’ll follow your lead.”

The look Simon gave him was so searching that Jace almost worried for a second that Simon would be able to see right past his crossed arms and feigned nonchalance to the part of him that was less worried about showing physical affection than how much he wanted it, the part that avoided hugging Simon because he liked it.

“Okay,” Simon said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me if anything I do bothers you even a little bit.”

“You mean like singing Shake It Off at the top of your lungs in the shower?” Jace asked.

“That was one time!” Simon protested. “I was up all night studying and under the influence of too many energy drinks. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“No, you told me never to mention it again and I laughed at you.”

“See, this is why we need rules. You’re already breaking number three.”

“Yeah, because we’re not pretend-dating yet,” Jace said. “That one might be a little rough, but I’m sure I can manage with some practice.”

There was that searching look again, but then Simon nodded like Jace had said something particularly insightful. “You’re right, we should practice.”

“We—what?”

“If we’re going to convince people who actually know us that we’re dating, then we should practice first,” Simon said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Not just the rules we know are going to be hard, but all of it, so we can work out any kinks in the plan before showtime.”

And maybe it was reasonable, but it was one thing to put on a show for his family, for Simon’s family, for a few days at a time in places that might be familiar to each of them individually, but that weren’t theirs. It was entirely another thing to do it here, in the cafe they went to at least twice a week, or on campus where they’d first met and had to keep on attending classes for at least another year, or even worse in the apartment they shared, around their friends—

“I really should have thought of it earlier,” Simon continued, blissfully unaware of Jace’s inner turmoil. “My best friend back home, she’s an amazing liar. Like, seriously, she got away with everything when we were kids. But any time she needed me to back up her story, she’d make me practice with her like a hundred times until she knew I could convince her mom and stepdad, even after I got good enough that I didn’t have to practice to convince Mom. Man, those two could sniff out the tiniest discrepancy in any story. Like, if normal parent bullshit detection is a one, my mom’s is probably a solid three, but Fray’s parents? Eleven, easy.”

“I’m pretty sure no one I’m related to has supernatural bullshit detection,” Jace told him. “And it’s common knowledge I’m a better liar than you are, so if you can fool your mom without practice, so can I.”

“Maybe,” Simon conceded. “But a little bit of practice couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jace was pretty sure that it could hurt, actually, but he was also pretty sure he was the only one in danger of getting hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth consideration. Especially weighed against the hopeful enthusiasm in Simon’s expression.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We could start by pretending we’re on a date right now,” Simon suggested. “We’re already sharing a muffin. So, just treat me like you’d treat anyone you were on a date with.”

“My dates don’t usually involve this many notebooks,” Jace told him. “And if my date stole my muffin, the date would be over.”

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Simon said, gathering up the papers and notebooks. “You’d really ditch your date over a muffin?”

“Absolutely,” Jace insisted. “They’d have to be seriously good in bed to make up for it, and I’m pretty sure rule number one says you’ll never get muffin-stealing privileges.”

“If the biggest benefit to sleeping with you is getting to share your muffins, then I’m not the one missing out,” Simon told him.

“You selling your body for muffins now, Lightwood?” an amused voice interrupted. “I bet I know a few people who’d toss a bran muffin or two your way for a chance at that ass.”

“Which is why you’re not my pastry-pimp, Roberts,” Jace said, smirking at Maia as she helped herself to one of the table’s empty chairs. “I only trade this ass for top tier, gourmet muffins. If your muffins don’t have at least two Michelin stars, I’m not interested.”

“I give him a week until he’s working corners for Entenmann’s,” Simon told her. “He was just threatening to walk out on our date over a bite of mediocre banana nut.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Your— Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and throwing them both an apologetic smile that Jace was pretty sure wouldn’t be directed at him if he were sitting with anyone other than Simon. “I swear I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just thought you were studying or something. You guys have fun, and I’ll just—”

“It’s a practice date,” Jace interrupted, “not an actual date. And Simon’s a dirty muffin thief who won’t even put out, so I’m not sure it really even qualifies as any kind of date.”

Maia looked between the two of them, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a ‘practice date,’ and why are the two of you on one?”

“Jace needs a fake boyfriend to take home for Christmas, and I need a fake date for Rachel’s wedding,” Simon explained, snatching the last bit of Jace’s muffin without remorse. “And we thought we should practice dating before trying to convince our families that were actually, you know, together.”

“That’s a terrible idea, and I regret any part I played in the two of you becoming friends,” Maia said flatly.

“Yeah, that would probably worry me more if you didn’t say that like twice a week,” Simon told her.

“Oh god, Simon, what did you let Jace talk you into now?” another voice asked, and suddenly there were three more people crowding around their tiny table, because apparently all of their friends were at Java Jones today. Which, in retrospect, Jace should have expected, given how often they all hung out there.

“It was actually my idea,” Simon told Maureen, sliding his chair closer to Jace’s to make room for her, Bat, and Lily. “Jace is taking me home to meet his family over the holidays, and I’m taking him as my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence that was broken when Lily turned to Jace and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“That’s for abandoning me, jerk,” Lily told him. “Not that I can really blame you—either of you,” she added, giving both Jace and Simon an appreciative once over, “‘cause damn—but I thought we had an understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Now that you’ve gone over the dating Dark Side, who’s going to be my wingman? You’re probably going to start doing all kinds of relationship-y things and talking about feelings—” she said it like it was a dirty word “—and crap like that.”

“I am not going to talk about my feelings,” Jace said, at the same time that Simon said, “We’re not actually together. We’re just pretending.”

“They’re planning to try to convince their families they’re dating even though they’re not,” Maia explained. “Because they apparently think that’s not just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Lily said, sounding oddly disappointed.

“Fifty bucks,” Bat announced, “says that when this blows up in their faces, Jace is the first one to break down and call Maia in a panic.”

“Hey,” Jace protested.

“Oh, you’re on,” Maureen said, ignoring Jace entirely. “Sorry, Simon, but no one panics quite like you.”

“I’m in,” Lily said, “and I agree with Maureen that Simon will break first, but his call to Maia will be interrupted by Jace calling five minutes later.”

“Why am I the one getting all of the panicked calls?” Maia wanted to know.

“Because you’re the only person at this table who isn’t an asshole,” Simon told her, “but nothing’s going to go wrong, let alone panic-inducing levels of wrong, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Dude,” Jace said, “she’s an asshole to me.”

“You like it,” Maia and Simon said in unison, causing the rest of the table to collapse into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Maia said around her giggles several minutes later, “if you’re all betting, then count me in, too. I bet that these fools,��� she looked pointedly at Jace, then at Simon, “don’t call me when this whole thing goes to hell, but I somehow end up having to haul their asses out of trouble, anyway.”

“I rescind my assessment of you as not an asshole,” Simon told her.

“I’d think twice about calling the woman who’s going to haul your ass out of trouble an asshole if I were you,” Bat said.

“Back to this pretending to be together thing,” Lily said. “What exactly does that entail?”

“That’s actually what we were trying to figure out when you guys showed up,” Simon told her. “We started a list of rules, but we only made it to four so far.”

“Your list should definitely include making out,” Lily said decisively. “Having made out with both of you, I can say with confidence that you’re definitely missing out if you don’t. In fact, you should try it now so we can let you know if it looks authentic.”

“You just want to watch them make out,” Maureen said.

“Yes,” Lily told her. She didn’t add ‘duh,’ but it was implied. “I always want to make hot people make out. But in this case, I’m also being helpful.”

The ensuing argument over the line between helpful and self-serving was thankfully cut short by the opening guitar line of Blonde Redhead’s Barragan.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” Simon said, holding up his phone. “I’ve been playing voicemail tag with Becky all week.” He looked at Jace. “Talk more about this later?”

“Sure,” Jace told him.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Maia called after Simon as he headed away from the cafe’s crowd.

“You know,” Jace told her in a low voice, “you could always tell her hi yourself instead of always asking Simon to pass messages.”

Maia gave him an unimpressed look. “After everything I just heard, I’m pretty sure you’re the last person in this room I should be taking relationship advice from.”

“Bite me,” Jace told her, but he didn’t disagree.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

EZEKIEL ‘EZ’ REYES x READER ⨟ PROMPT

Anon #1 asked: Wait! You are taking requests!!! Can I please get 46 and 51 with Ez please! I can imagine them at a party or something and he pulls her up with a cute af grin, being all cuddly and sweet!!!

Anon #2 asked: Ezzzzzz with 87 and maybe he whimpers “fuck...” when you do it 👀👀

Anon #3 asked: I’m so sorry, this is the last I swear. 72 and 67 from the prompt list with the youngest Reyes tysm ily!!!!

Anon #4 asked: FUCK, the thought of Ezekiel Reyes telling me I’m a good girl 🥵🥵 I’m wet . I have the biggest praise kink, pls baby, tell me I’m doing so well ! Do you think you could do a little sum for me please 🥵🥺🥺🥺

Prompts:

46. “I wanna dance with you”

51. “You kill me every time you smile”.

72. “Club doesn’t go first”.

67. “You and me, forever”.

87. “Put on my kutte”.

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT

Word count: 2.3k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @xxrouxx

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“EZ it's okay, don' worry. I understand it”.

“I'm truly sorry, (Y/N). I swear to God”.

“Ezekiel. It's okay. Club goes first”.

“I promise we'll celebrate your birthday as soon as I'm back. I promise. I swear”.

“Hey, boy scout! We're leaving! Stop bitchin'”.

“Yeah! Give me a second!” He replies. “I have to leave you… I'm sorry”.

“Go, EZ. Call me when you're back”.

“I will”.

You can't lie. You're a little upset because he's not going to be in your birthday for first time in seven years. You met him at the jail in Stockton, when you were finishing your studies, working as an auxiliary nurse. You're best friends since then, and it's an special occasion. But at least, you have your other friends to celebrate with.

When they cover your eyes, inside the car, with a bandanna you know it's going to be a crazy night. You don't know anything about your birthday party, and you don't want to think about what they have been able to prepare. You just wait in silence to the car to stop. And when it does and Monique helps you to go out of it, you hear some murmurs claiming for silence. She guides you with both hands on your shoulders, until you're in the middle of the dark.

“Ok, wait! Don't take it off yet!” She says, listening how her steps go away from you. “Ok! NOW!”

You break in laugh, pulling down the bandanna, until you notice where you are.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The whole crew is in the front yard of the clubhouse, reunited with your friends from work and your housemates. Your eyes are filling with tears, watching EZ running towards you to lift you up on his arms. You hug him tightly, wrapping his waist with your legs.

“Fuck, you're so dumb! I thought you weren't gonna believe me”.

He's laughing, infecting you, while he covers your face with a lot of kisses all around.

“Happy birthday, enfermera”.

“You fucking idiot!” You say pouting and hitting one of his shoulders, when your feet are back on the ground.

“Eh! Don' need to be this aggressive, just because it's your birthday!”

“I hate you…”

“Hey, club doesn't go first”. He whispers right in your ear, holding you tightly. “Do you remember what I said once, ah?”

“You and me, forever”.

“That's right. And now… let's enjoy the night”.

So you do. There are a lot of meat that Felipe brought, latin music flooding the crowded yard, beers going from one side to another, your friends dancing with the Mayans. Bishop has ask you for a dance. That man is like your father since you put a foot in his club, and he's pretty good with salsa. But when the song changes to another more sensual, the president pushes you into EZ. He's sitting next to Angel and Gilly, watching you the whole time with that charming smile he's always wearing when you're together.

Your hips moving to the beat, letting yourself go without worries, with sensual and delicate moves. You know how much the skirt of your dress is provoking him, because of the obvious romantic and sexual tension between both since ever, always keeping a secure distance to not fuck up your friendship. But you have had more tequila than you can afford. He reclines on the chair, enjoying the show, while his brothers speak oblivious to the situation. Licking his lips, EZ chuckles supporting the beer over a thigh rubbing his chin while you come closer.

“I want you to dance with me”. You say offering a hand that he doesn't doubt to grab.

Leaving away his drink, EZ lets you guide him to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. His chest stuck on your back, moving your waist to the rhythm of the song, and your arms raised up, back to his nape. His breathing colliding against your neck, following every move so close you can hear his heartbeat. His scent filling your lungs, his lips caressing your skin. You don't even know which song is playing, because dancing with him is in the only thing you're focusing on.

Closing your eyes, you feel his hands going down slowly by your sides to reach the folds of the skirt, raising it some inches, dragging gently his fingers above your skin bristling it.

“Fuck… Stop playing with ma' mind”. He begs you leaving a soft kiss on your neck.

You just laugh tangling your hands with his, turning to face him, too close of his lips. Almost touching them.

“No”.

“I hate you”. He mutters placing his hands on your lower back, smirking so naturally that makes your legs tremble a little.

“You kill me every time you smile”.

“Really…? Then, erase it from my face”. He challenges you with a too sensual hoarsely tone.

You kiss him. No doubts doing it. His lips tastes so good, that almost dizzy you. You can feel the same necessity he has to happen, as you have. Many years enduring it. And it's finally happening. Your fingers caressing the back of his head slowly, contrary to how your mouth works against his. Your tongue finding the other so desperate you don't mind the shortness of air. You know that everybody is looking at you sideways, not wanting to interrupt the moment, and you don't even care.

“Fuck… now I have two birthday presents to give you”. EZ chuckles, touching his nose with yours in a dearly gesture.

“And what are you waitin' for, Ezekiel?”

The Mayan twists his head, biting his tongue with a naughty smile drawn on his lips. He has that look on his face he could use after killing someone and before adopting a puppy from the dog kennel. Now it also means he's going to show you how much he desires you. Holding your hand, he guides you to the clubhouse, under some claps and whistles from the guys. Of course they felt the tension, since ever, and they also are like five years old. Bad combination. They stop making noise when you cross the hall, right to the dorms.

You know pretty well that room. It isn't the first time you sleep there, after a long day at the hospital, a nap on a day off… Always with EZ. He closes the door when you two are already inside, pushing you with his body to the bed and his hands cupping your face in. He's on top of you, one of his legs among yours, on of yours between his rubbing the erection under his jeans. His tongue fighting yours desperate, while his calloused hands go below the white dress, dragging them on your thighs making you moan low. His fingers reach the waistband of your panties stretching it slightly, biting his lips with your attentive orbs over his.

“Joder, joder, joder…” He curses in spanish. “Fuck… stop me… Please, stop me”.

Yes, you think that could break your friendship, but it's the fear talking. Not reality.

“EZ, I want you. Since ever”. You sentence, leaning up to catch out his breath by kissing him, too hungry for his lips.

He doesn't need anything else to put down your panties, until finding the floor. His right hand ventures among your thighs and the heat that emanates from there, growling in your neck when he reaches your center.

“Shit, baby…” He sighs sliding a finger inside you, making you gasp low right on his ear. “Should be illegal be this wet…”

“And it's your fault”. You quickly highlight, biting his lobe.

EZ wants to enjoy it, to make it slowly for you. But he has wait for too long. Digging his finger among your folds, rough and deep, he rubs his hardness against your knee anxious for feeling some friction. And you're not going to keep containing yourself, using your natural tone of voice to moan, not caring a fuck if the crew and your friends hear you. You want to show him how bad you need him. A second finger gets curled inside you, exploring your wetness masterfully, while his mouth devours yours with the taste of tequila driving you crazy.

But he needs more. So you do.

Much to your regret, after some seconds, he pulls them away to take off your dress above your head, showing him your bare breasts. Ezekiel is fascinated, having you naked when he's fully dressed, under his mercy and his desires.

“You're so fuckin' beautiful, baby”. He growls before catching one of your nipples with his teeth, stretching it up some inches before sucking it gently.

You're squirming below his caresses, spreading your legs to accommodate him between them. Now you can feel how hard he is, thrusting you with the fabric of his jeans rubbing your clit so delicious you could cum like that. Your hands takes off the kutte leaving it by a side of the mattress, taking the advantage of doing the same with his shirt. Ezekiel is so hot, you can't deny that fact, starting to lose control. His long fingers undone his belt and his jeans, undressing himself as fast as you need it.

“Put on my kutte, baby. I wanna see you wearing it and riding me”. He whispers against your lips, biting them dearly, watching him sideways jerking himself off.

You don't say anything sitting up on the bed to do it. And you have to recognize that looks good on you. Eze rest his back against the wall, after throwing away the pillow to get comfortable, looking you while he continues stroking his cock. You can see the veins in his arms marking the toasted skin, licking your lips, being one of your weak points in life. His hands and his arms. Crawling on top of his lap, he plays with his glans among your folds, showing you the smile that makes you feel more wet.

“Fuck, baby… Look at you”. He soughs, while the tip of your tongue tours up his chin and mouth. “Take it all, my Mayan. It's all yours”.

That sounds so good, drowning your legs down, digging his dick inside you.

“Shit, Ezekiel! You're so big…”

“Do you like it, ah?”

“Yes… baby. Yes…”

“Ride that big cock, cariño. C'mon… Ride me”. He begs you, kissing your neck with short ones licking your skin.

Your hips start to bounce his hardness, discovering you can go deeper as much as you spread your legs. His hands nailed on your waist with both thumbs pressing your abdomen, keeping your eyes with his and parted lips. His erection hits your soul every time you jump by a frenetic and constant dance of pleasure, feeling his teeth biting your collarbone and his tongue drawing some bruises above it.

“Shit… just like that, mi vida… justamente así. Such a good girl...”

Ez's voice lost in what you make him feel is everything for you, claiming for more, begging for your warm pussy welcoming him delighted. He creates a road of bites, starting under your chin, sucking it slowly until he reaches your mouth. His tongue explores it finding yours in a filthy and dirty kiss, slapping your ass without expecting, thrice with part of his strength. Arching your anatomy and leaning your head back softly you let your heavy moans flood the dorm, before he turns you over the bed. With Ezekiel on top of you, he grabs your thighs to open your legs as much as you can handle it.

“You wan'me deeper, cariño?”

“And faster… Fuckin' kill me, Ez”.

“Can you keep your legs opened for me, baby girl, ah?”

“Yeah… I promise, daddy”. You nod, getting desperate because he's moving his body to slow.

One of his big callous hands grabs tightly your throat, surrounding your back with the free one. And he does it. He goes deeper. Deliciously deep, with his abdomen hitting your wetted folds once and again, harder than the last. You're almost out of air crying out his name and some spanish curses every time he pounds you, maintaining your gaze burning in lust and pleasure. He wants to kiss you more than anything in the world, but he also wants to see your face and all the gestures your draw in it unconsciously, because of his cock thrusting your g-spot.

Biting his lower lip, Ez nails his knees on the mattress without pulling his dick out of you, but raising your trembling legs to his shoulders before lie down on top of you again. This position is new for you, but after the first push you know it's going to be one of your favorites.

“Wan'me to make you cum, mi amor?”

“Please, daddy, please…”

He chuckles giving you a smooth kiss, tangling your hands on his forearms. The rhythm becomes speedy and intensive, feeling the tickles in your low belly as you start to cry out rolling your eyes in white, when the orgasm wraps your body under his grip. He keeps going with every pound, seeing how red is part of his chest and neck because of the effort, starting to growl when he finds your lips again in a needy kiss begging you to hold for him just a few more seconds. You could wait for EZ all your life.

“Can I… cum inside you?” He asks you as well as he can, somewhat exhausted, close to the edge.

“Fuck… to bring another Reyes?”

He can't help but break into laughs, stopping his moves, as you do. The laughters floods the room for a second, imagining how bad could be for the world, but how good could be for you two. Of course, you've never talked about it. But, having a family together? You're in. And Ez is totally in too.

“Let's set the world on fire, mi vida”. He chuckles, lowering your legs to his waist to pound you again.

His body digging into your legs with somekind of fury, pinching your ass in the meantime of his cock punches your pussy without nonstop. He was so close, he can't even expect his warm jizz completely filling you with a hoarse and throaty moan, drilling your ears.

“Shit, baby…”

He falls deadbeat on your chest, whilst your fingers caressing the back of his neck, getting a little wet because of the sweat your bodies are wrapped in. Slowly pulling himself out, inside of your legs, he kisses a little tired your lips.

There's no hall of shame when you come back to the crowded yard, after having a short shower together, sitting on EZ's chair by you on his lap. Angel brings you a beer with pursed lips in a smile, not needing to use any words to make you know how proud he feels of you finally being his sister-in-law. He cheers your drink with his, before sitting again on his own chair. Resting your left temple on Ezekiel's shoulder, you have a sip of yours getting comfy against his body. His hand touring your thighs gently, joining the talk between his friends like if nothing happened seconds ago, taking pleasure of having you so, so close.

And you can't help, seeing him smile, but grabbing his chin with two fingers to lean him down so you can kiss him again. You feel like an addict, and by the way he has to drag his hand on your skin, he is too.

“I'm… assuming you wanna be my girl”. He mutters caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Well, I need a Reyes to handle with a baby one”.

He chuckles shaking his head and closing both eyes for a while.

“Would you… really like it? The idea of having a baby with an ex-con, part of a motorbike cl—?”

“The idea of having a family with my intelligent, handsome, and super interesting bestfriend? Yes, Ezekiel. I would love it”.

“You forgot to say ‘best chef in the world’”.

“And best lover”.

“My ego es happy right now”.

“Good, that's one of my missions”.

“Te amo”. He whispers, hearing a loud ‘aw’ coming from Bishop, Tranq and Taza. The oldest with the most childish minds of all.

You laugh loud curling your legs above your boyfriend, hugging you tightly and filling your face with kisses.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader

[meichenxi]

Grimm’s Law and Verner’s Law: part 1 - Indo-European background

OR: how ‘cannabis’ and ‘hemp’ are actually cognates

tldr: sound change is cool and this great series of videos can explain it better than I can: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aal9VSPkf5s. this is going to be the first of a few posts on sound change in German and English. I originally wanted to explain the second sound shift, but quickly realised that it doesn’t make sense without any of the historical context, so please bear with me

What makes a language Germanic? Imagine for a moment that you’re an alien a la Matt Haig, newly arrived to Earth and presented with a sample of the world’s languages - or specifically, part of Eurasia’s. Some languages look very similar to each other; some very different. How would you go about building a hypothesis about which languages were related to each other, and which weren’t? How would you then test this hypothesis? And how, presented finally with data that shows your languages are related, would you explain how these changes came to happen in the first place? 

Before we go on to Germanic, though, let’s talk about Indo-European today. You guys probably all know that IE is a large language family that stretches from Icelandic to Hindi; Germanic is one of the sub-groupings of this wider IE family. Within the sub-family itself, there are divisions: German is more closely related to Dutch, Norwegian to Swedish, Icelandic to Faroese and so on. This seems all fairly obvious to us now. 

Way back when many centuries ago (not that many centuries, and certainly long after the Bible began), the idea of a language family spanning English to Russian to Farsi was a little less obvious. For much of the 17th century, people (esp a bishop dude called John Wilkins) sought to prove that English was related to Hebrew - this was an important endeavour at the time, because it would lend the language religious authority, especially in its translation of the Bible. Fast forwarding to the 18th century, a man named Sir Williams Jones who lived in Bengal realised - on account of his classical education and extensive contact with Indian languages - that there were much greater similarities between Latin, Greek and Sanskrit than anybody had previously realised. He wasn’t the first to think it, but he was one of the first to make such a definitive statement. The following quote is probably one of the most famous in historical linguistics, so I apologise for quoting it in full: ‘The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have spring from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celtick, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit, and the old Persian might be added to this family.’

He was wrong in a lot of ways - he excluded some languages that do belong in this family and erroneously included others. He also wasn’t the first to come up with this idea. This quote, more than anything, marks the beginning of people’s interest in the ‘common source’: how could such a thing ever be proven, if we didn’t have access to the language itself?  Part of the building ground for Indo-European historical linguistics was the desire to prove that linguistics was an empirical science much like any other, with laws that held universally and hypotheses that could be tested and demonstrably falsified. This rested on two principles both promoted by the Junggramatiker, or Neogrammarians, a Leipzig based group of scholars. Firstly, that sound change - the process by which sounds change, arise and disappear - was a highly regular process that held universally and obeyed certain rules. Secondly, that languages that exist today are structurally and in principle no different from languages that existed thousands of years ago - that is, we have no reason to assume that processes existed in the past that don’t exist today. This is called the uniformitarian principle. 

If both of these things are true, that means that it would be possible to not only determine how exactly these languages were related, but also reconstruct an earlier version of the language once spoken by all Indo-Europeans!! (I hope you agree that this is immensely cool.) 

Reconstructing these rules is important, because it allows us to better understand structural similarities between languages. There are some similarities which are surface deep: it’s easy to compare English cold and German kalt or warm and - well - warm, and say that they look alike. Pfad and path is a little harder, but when you compared Pfeffer and pepper it’s clear, ok, there’s a <pf> / <p> alteration going on there. Leaving the Germanic family behind, though, things get a little more tricky. 

How exactly is venue cognate with come? What about English quick and Latin vīvus? And how can sister and Hindi bahan possibly be cognates??

Some of the most meaningful observations are structural; they are not surface deep, and they’re not immediately available for study. This is because, quite simply, the time depth since Indo-European was spoken is vast; there have been extensive sound changes in all of the languages concerned. 

And that’s exactly what Grimm’s Law is. It’s a sound change that happened specifically in the Germanic branch of Indo-European, so it’s common to all Germanic languages, and nothing else. It’s one of those diagnostic criteria that an alien would use to determine that Norwegian and Dutch were related: it’s present, apart from where further sound change has obscured it, in every Germanic language - and it’s not present, apart from in borrowed words, in any non-Germanic language. That’s what we mean by diagnostic. 

Let’s have a look at some examples! We’ll explain it in more detail next time, but this might whet your appetite. Don’t worry if you can’t read the phonetic description; it’s the consonants that are important at the moment (don’t, please, ask me about vowels. just please don’t).

(nb: where I use an asterisk *, this means that this form is reconstructed, not actually attested: we don't have any records of IE. > just means ‘goes to’ or ‘becomes’ in the various daughter languages. Also <these> brackets are talking about spelling, and /these/ brackets are talking about phonemes, or actual sounds. Also, the little ‘ means aspiration - we’ll talk more about what that means next time)

*p > f (no later shift in German, though /f/ is sometimes spelled v):

Engl. brother, Germ. Bruder (cf. Lat. frāter, Skt. bhrā́tā)

Engl. full, Germ. voll (cf. Lat. plēnus, Skt. pūrṇás)

*t > *þ (Engl. th) > Germ. d

Engl. three, Germ. drei (cf. Lat. trēs, Gk. /trê:s/, Skt. tráyas) Engl. thin, Germ. dünn (cf. Lat. tenuis, Skt. tanús)

*ḱ, *k > h (no later shift in German):

Engl. hundred, Germ. hundert (cf. Lat. centum, Gk. /he-katón/, Skt.

śatám)

Engl. horn, Germ. Horn (cf. Lat. cornū)

*kw > *hw (Engl. wh) > Germ. w:

Engl. what, Germ. was (cf. Lat. adjective & relative quod, Skt. kád)

*d > *t (Engl. t) > Germ. z:

Engl. two, Germ. zwei (cf. Lat. duo, Gk. /dúo/, Skt. dvā́)

BRUH. ISN’T THIS COOL!! AND THERE ARE MORE!

You can see here already by looking at the German and English that both have sometimes subsequently undergone sound changes, like English */hw/ to /wh/ and then finally to /w/, which becomes German <w> or /v/ - these sometimes obscure things. And if you really want to find out why German is different to English, well, we’ve got quite a few sound changes to get through before we get there! 

Melissa, you might be saying, I know for a fact there’s something yucky and not-worky about Grimm’s Law. What about cases where it doesn’t seem to apply? What’s that? Also, I swear some Danish dude had the idea first but just didn’t publish...

Well. You’re not wrong. But this post is long enough already. Next time, we’ll go over what exactly it is, where exactly it manifests itself, and how it didn’t seem to work 100% of the time...and I suppose I still haven’t answered how ‘hemp’ and ‘cannabis’ are cognates...you’ll just have to stay tuned! 

Bis zum nächsten Mal! 

#german #english #linguistics #grimm's law #verner's law #indo-european #proto-indo-european #historical linguistics #this is for beginners but I hope it'll be interesting and useful to some people!! #we'll see how technical next time gets #langblr #lingblr #german langblr #learn english #learn german #germanic languages #norwegian #dutch #icelandic #sanskrit #greek #latin #I can't just tag all the ie languages RIPPPETH

[my-sherlock221b]

Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Wendigo

Wendigo

The long line of the MoTW series in Supernatural starts off with the Woman in White which is fairly well- known legend/ myth in most countries.  Then we get this one next which claims origin from the Native American mythology.

Here is a review of the Wendigo episode with thoughts from me and @soulmates-for-real​

I have always wondered why they were not so inclusive or better at being inclusive as a show. Yes, they did have many women and people of colour in important and strong roles, both positive and negative (though they could have done so much better!). But they steered clear from some of the huge mythology lores like that from Native Americans, Hindu, Latin American cultures. This may have been a wise political strategy to avoid conflict and so they stuck to the Judeo- Christian core but still managed a rather radical take on it!

Spoiler alert:

*God was the final villain?! Who would have guessed? And that the angels were dicks, relentlessly, and demons were in fact ex-humans.*

So back to Wendigo.

What a monster the Wendigo is!! In later seasons when we got only angels and demons and some vampires etc the other monsters were monsters in and of themselves. Like they were born that way—needing to eat human pituitary glands or whatever.

But Woman in White and Wendigo, and even Dead in the Water, or the Shapeshifter --the monster was created by circumstances. Betrayal and infidelity leading to murder suicides, extreme starvation leading to cannibalism and eternal hunger.

Far more terrifying than someone who is born a ghoul perhaps.

So here we are in Wendigo, at the forest/camp site with these fake, charming, rather useless camp rangers who carry M&Ms (nice touch and throwback to E.T. !), don’t wear shorts ( which anyway seems like a weird thing to wear when there is grass and stuff—why would you want to expose your legs?!), can’t see bear traps ( Seriously Dean?! ).

Sam is still restless and bristling at Jess’s death, as well as angry at Dad. All those years of separation do not seem to have given him any peace in his relationship with his father. Now to add massive insult to his already injured sense of self—he has lost his girlfriend in exactly the same way as his father lost his wife—making them even more identical.

So he is cranky and unwilling to give in to any of Dean’s suggestions. He denies his own nightmares, refuses good advice and food and is generally misanthropic. While Dean on the other hand seems to be enjoying this like a happy jolly road trip. The monster is almost like a secondary priority now.

What is most important, (and this becomes even more obvious in a re-watch post finale)—what is THE most important thing is that Sammy is riding shotgun, is in front of his eyes and safe.

Miserable and bitchy but safe.

That allows Dean to dial back a bit and bring into focus what has always been, for him, the really important part of their lives—saving people. This is always more important to him that hunting things. So, when he finds out about someone’s brother being lost and the coordinates match what his dad has left, well there is no choice really.

They have to find a way to save him.

If they find Dad there, well, good, but that is suddenly not a priority for him at all. He turned up at Sam’s doorstep, and as we know from the finale, waited there for HOURS since he was unsure of his welcome, then broke in at 3 am or something like an idiot….but anyway…..all that was because Dad had been away on a hunting trip and hadn’t been home in a few days…blah blah blah.

The first contact Dean makes with Sam who left home to go to college is to recruit him to help find Dad—the same guy who told Sam that if he went away to stay away.

And then suddenly now that Sam is with him, finding Dad is like meh. If we find him somewhere by the wayside while you and I hunt monsters Sammy, then yeah sure, great.

If not…well….we have stuff to do you and I…saving people, hunting things. The family business. 

And John Winchester….well, what can I possibly say about him without taking up pages in ranting?! Why did he ditch the first monster? Why was he in SUCH a hurry to leave that he left his journal behind??

My theory of course is that he had to run away from the Woman in White since he had been unfaithful to Mary ( yes yes I know it had been YEARS at that point, but hello, this man made his life a crusade for revenge and sacrificed his kids’ lives also to that darkness, so…yes, being with Adam’s mother was an infidelity and you can’t change my mind on that !).

So naturally John was afraid he would be killed.

But still….he left coordinates for the next hunt in the journal and just ran off?!

The other question is what the hell is happening in motels across USA? Guys like these can just check- in on fake credit cards, leave a room full of satanic and serial killer-y documents, sometimes dead bodies, lots of salt at the door and windows, and just disappear without checking out….

Though the police do seem quite alert and swift in action in the Pilot compared to some of the laidback and clueless ones we see later.

What is most interesting is to see the character of season 1 Dean emerge.

He sass, he boss, he flirt, he lie, he charm, he fight, he save.

In fact, the very first time I saw Supernatural, it seemed that Dean occupied so much of the narrative space that I barely noticed Sam except as a foil to and a brother to Dean.

Now in the re-watch what is fascinating in retrospect is to watch Sam slide into ‘the life’ without a hiccup. He reads the journal, he figures out it’s a wendigo, he gets the civilians to cooperate, he also fights and saves.

And that look he gives Dean in the car?

Well, those who missed the signs in Pilot and didn’t ship Wincest from day one, surely started doing it then!

https://www.geekgirlauthority.com/supernatural-rewatch-s01e02-wendigo/

This is also the first episode that gives a clear parallel to the Sam and Dean relationship through the B plot. When Haley says she MUST go to find her brother –Dean nods in instant understanding while Sam is pissed off at having to ‘babysit.’

We see this in many more episodes in the future, and what is fascinating is to see Sam gain insights into his brother with every such parallel. To recognize what being the big brother has meant to Dean and how much he has done and given and even suffered for that. We will discuss this in more detail in the next episode review! ( Dead in the Water)

The chemistry and ease, almost a fluid sense of flow between the two actors is unmistakable in this episode. Even as Sam is really being a bitch and Dean is being a jerk, there is a definite undercurrent of something holding them together. It may be all about revenge for Jess’s death and finding Dad for Sam, but he will still stick with Dean and want to protect him as fiercely as Dean wants to protect Sam.

.

Sheila O’Malley has given a detailed explanation for the acting styles of Jared and Jensen and what she said about Jared is spot on and brilliant. He does what she calls active listening.

It is amazing how once you realize that you notice it all the time.

The reason why Dean can manage such perfect comedic timing or non- verbal communication is because Sam is always ALWAYS tuned into him. Listening, watching, reacting, observing.

Once again, for those of you interested in the meta and more erudite and informed reviews that this one 😊 do read what Sheila O’Malley has written.

Here are some excerpts which will entice you!

“David Nutter, who directed the pilot, also directed episode 2, and there’s a new DP here, the phenomenally talented Serge Ladouceur, who is still shooting the show. If the DP for the pilot, Aaron Schneider, helped establish the dark mood and horror-movie feel of the series, then Ladouceur just helped deepen and strengthen that continuum. The look of the show has changed, by Season 9. I would say that it has a more glamorous look now, more colorful, while certainly still very dramatic (even melodramatic). Supernatural is (and has been) one of the best looking shows on television.”

“The ranger comes in to talk to them, and they pose as environmental studies majors at the university in Boulder. Sam says they are “working on a paper”, clearly improvising, and you can watch the glorious schtick of Jensen Ackles as he adjusts to the new information of who he is supposed to be pretending to be. God is in the details, people, and it’s the detailed scene work of both Ackles and Padalecki that keeps this show going. David Nutter referred to Jensen Ackles once as a “meticulous actor” in terms of his preparation for every scene, no matter how small, and it pays off. He knows what the fuck he is doing. So does Padalecki. I couldn’t give two shits about the demons. It’s that DYNAMIC that is so entertaining and watch-able.”

 .

And here are some thoughts on the episode from @soulmates-for-real, my partner in crime for the rewatch 😊

Except the fact that Sam is quite secretive about his nightmares but his body language is quite open and his expressions easy to read. On the contrary, I saw Dean posturing a lot with other people, pouting, flirting, making eyes...trying to be all nonchalant. But when it comes to Sam we see a different Dean - the more antsy and angsty Sam gets, the more intensely Dean reacts to him and you can see Dean's concern shining through. Leading to Sam coming to some kind of resolution and giving Dean 'that look' at the end! 

#spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn reviews #j2 #wincest #fandom

[emu-lumberjack]

Don’t answer the phone tired part 4

Time to plan some revenge, plus its time to find out how they met (Partly)

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Hello All I decided to write part 4 before work and edit after. the pig latin at the start just translate to “Nix on the identity talk” for those who don’t know piglatin. also I hope y’all like it I decided to stop it where I did for slight evilness. (Sorry not sorry.) 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Ixnay on the dentityiway alktay. I have another idea to tell them that.

Damian typed to Marinette as they walked into the restaurant. He felt his phone vibrate and looked to see Marinette's responding message

Chat, Ryuko, and Viperion have to be involved, and no one gets seriously maimed.  

Deal.

Lunch went smoothly, until of course Dick asked about how they met. Marinette took a moment then said “Damian and I made a bet that if Damian won in a video game we would go prank Lila if I won then they’d go have some fun with a water balloon fight to blow off steam.” Not super far off from the truth, just missing a few key facts.

“It was a bad day for both of us. Lila was being Lila, and we hadn’t played that fighting game yet. Needless to say she was a lot better than I expected.” Damian finished her tale.

“I guess I’ll have to play you sometimes, I’m currently undefeated at the manor.” Jason said through a mouthful of rice.

“I guess so.” She said. Anyone else would think of her tone of voice as soft but Damian knew that voice, it was the innocent voice she used when she wanted people to underestimate her. He looked forward to the prospect of watching Todd fail miserably. Marinette’s phone started going off, she looked at and answered. “Yeah Adrien.” Damian couldn’t make out what he said but it was enough to startle Marinette. “Crap I completely spaced. I was caught up at lunch, can you stall Madame Bustier for me? I swear I’ll be there soon.” she shoved her phone in her bag while leaping out of her seat. “Thank you guys lovely meeting you. Let me know how much I owe you for lunch later.” With that she was out the door.

“We’re not having her pay us back. Right?” Tim asked.

“Definitely not. It’s on me this time.” Dick responded. “Also Bruce asked all of us to check up on the Wayne enterprises building while we’re here. Let’s head over after we finish up here.” A chorus of agreement followed.

------------------------------------------

After the trip to the Paris office the four bats went back to Damians residence. Damian secluded himself in his room taking that over talking with his brothers, plus he had to finish his plan for tonight, he’d tell Marinette the rest of it after she got out of school. He’d been at it for a couple of hours when a knock at his bedroom door tore him away from his work.

“What.” he said curtly annoyed at being interrupted. Jason poked his head through the door, he looked tired.

“Nice to see your still alive demon spawn, we hadn’t seen you in a few hours. Anyway Dick went to the store, and Tim and I are gonna crash. Actually Tim’s already crashed on the couch and I’m about to follow. Wanted to let you know in case you needed something.”

“Yeah yeah I’ll wake you up if I do.”

“Yeah that was actually my warning. Wake us up and you will get a fist to the face, fancy ninja skills or not.” Jason held his fist up for emphasis, Damian just laughed.

“Sure Todd, if you can catch me you can hit me.”

“Wow that Marinette really has loosened you up, before I don’t even think you’d respond to me.” he paused for a second, “oh speaking of which did I mention she’s at the door?”

“You could lead with that!” Damian said, throwing on his sweatshirt. He scooped up his notebook and a pair of shoes. He shoved his notebook in his messenger bag and started hopping on one foot down the hall trying to put his shoe on and get to the door as fast as possible. That was until he lost his balance and planted face first into the rug, notebook landing like a tent on top of his head. He lifted it up slightly to see Marinette trying to stifle a laugh and failing, miserably. The Kwamii at her side no doubt doing the exact same.

“You’re welcome!” Jason called from Damians room.

“I’m gonna kill him.” A very red Damian muttered.

“Oh don’t do that just yet, we have to plan tonight don’t we. anyway he’ll get his due tomorrow when I play him.” She was still smiling as she offered a hand to Damian to help him up, he could forget sometimes how ruthless she could be behind the sweet smile, he liked it sometimes.

“Yeah you’re right, anyway ready to head out? Are we doing Andre’s?”

“Sure we can meet the others in the park. Also is your brother ok, because it looks like he’s about to fall off the couch.” Damian looked over to see Tim’s sleeping head practically touching the floor, with his feet still laying horizontal. Damian gave him five minutes before crashing onto the floor.

“He’ll be fine, lets go.” The two walked out of the residence hand in hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Damian asked, it was a couple hours after he and Marinette had left the apartment. The ice cream they got from Andre was long gone, and the sun was setting.

“I mean it sounds simple enough, my question is what you want me to do?” Luka said from the corner still strumming his guitar.

“If you could use your lyre for ominous music when we start, that would be perfect to freak Greyson out. He may not be religious but he still believes in ghosts. Also in case they ever catch on before we get to do the rest of it you can use second chance and we can do it again.”

“Sounds good, and I have just the song.” Luka may be a kind kid but he wasn’t above pranks on siblings, especially if it was for a friend.

“So when do we start?” Kagami was pretending to study while she talked to them over phone, her mother wouldn’t let her meet up with them.

“Same question over here!” Adrien was simultaneously stuck in his room so Marinette had him pulled up on videochat.

“After sundown, think you two can sneak out by then?” Damian responded.

“How bout ten that when my mom is asleep and I can sneak out even easier.”

Kagami offered.

“Sounds good to me if it is for everyone else.” A chorus of yeahs confirmed the ten time. “Perfect Kagami, Adrien see you then.” With that Damian and Marinette hung up their respective phones.

“I’ve gotta go get some homework done before then, so I’ll see the two of you at ten too.” Luka  got up and put his guitar in its case, which he then slung over his back. He grabbed his bike handles and started walking it out of the park.

“We’ll see you then Luka, oh say hi to your mom for me, and tell her I’ll have those pastries to her by next Tuesday!” Marinette called to him. He was already halfway out of the park so she had to shout a little louder.

“Will do!” he called back. Marinette and Damian waved bye as he disappeared around the corner.

“So Dames, what do you want to do now?” she turned to him.

“I don’t know but we’ve got a couple hours to kill, you have any ideas?”

“I have one.” She said slyly, he looked at her face to see mischief in her bluebell eyes and a smile on her lips.

------------------------------------------------------------

Game Over. Player 1 wins.

It was their 7th game and Marinette had wiped the deck with Damian every time. He got maybe two kills over all the games. The duo were killing time in Marinette’s room and decided to play some video games.

“Well that was a fun game, play again?” She said setting her controller down and stretching her arms up. Damian had gotten slightly more use to being so thoroughly crushed, so he only gaped for a minute rather than everyone else’s 15 minute long gaping session.

“Mari I love you, but I don’t think I can lose to you again.”

“Come on you might win the next one.” She said lightly.

“Mari don’t tease me it’s unbecoming of you.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not fun!” a buzz from her phone stopped her from saying another thing to annoy him.

Where are you guys, it’s already ten -Adrien

Sorry was beating the ice prince in video games. Be there soon. -Marinette

“You ready to blow off some steam, ten o’clock is upon us.” she gave a mock bow towards Damian sticking with her Ice Prince theme from the text.

“If you cut it with the royalty shtick I’ll even buy you some new fabric afterwards.” “Hmmmmm tempting but unlikely to happen.”

“I figured, but thought I’d try.” he held out an arm to her, “then are you ready to go mess with my brother's princess?”

“Let’s suit up.” She grabbed his hand, their excitement palpable.

“This will be fun.”

tag list: @ur-average-reader  @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @dast218 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @pawsitivelymiraculous @clumsy-owl-4178 @shippernaturalsanderspjoandscifi @purplesundaze @zotinha456 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @chocolateherringtacofan @abrx2002 

#maribat #damianette #damienette #damianxmarinette #dc x mlb #DCX miraculous ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #platonic adrienette #platonic lukanette #platonic kagamanette #Adrien Agreste #luka coffaine #kagami tsuguri

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

 The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

 He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

 It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

 Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

 Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

 He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

 As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

 “Are you okay?” He asked.

 She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

 “I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

 He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

 ****<S>**<S>****

 The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

 “Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

 Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

 “Latin?” He guessed.

 Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

 Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

 “Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

 She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

 Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

 Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

 God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

 He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

 He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

 As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

 He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes. 

 Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

 "Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

 "Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

 "Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

 "Buffy, I've already explained–"

 “No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

 There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

 The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

 “Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

 “Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

 “I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

 “What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

 “I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

 Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

 “It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

 “That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

 “I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

 Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

 “Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

 Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

 Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

 Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

 She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

 Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

 A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

 "What?" Wesley said, shocked.

 "Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

 “And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

 Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

 “I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

 When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

 They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

 Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

 “Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

 Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

 Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.  

 Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

 “I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

 Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

 "You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

 Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

 Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

 Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

 "I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

 Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

 There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

 She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

.

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

 “No Wes,” she said cutting him off.  “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

 “Fine,” He groaned.

 Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

 “How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

 Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

 There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

 “Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

 “Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

 Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

 “Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

 Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

 Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

 Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

 Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

 Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

 Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

 “Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

 “What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

 He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

 Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

 “You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

 “Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

 “Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

 Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

 “Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

 He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

 “No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

 Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

 Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

 Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

 “Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

 She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

 “Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

 “Of course.” Buffy said.

 “Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

 The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

 ****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot. 

 The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

 "I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

 "Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

 Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

 "Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

 "Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it. 

 Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

 Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

 She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

 "Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

 “We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

 It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

 “This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

 She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

 “Buffy?” He whispered.

 She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

 “Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

 Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

 “Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

 She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

 Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

 “When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

 Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

 Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

 “And Spike?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

 “Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

 “Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

 Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

 “The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

 Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

 “I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

 She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

 She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

 Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

 Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

 “Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

 She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

  “And the claim?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

 Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

 She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

 Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

 “Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

 She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

 Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

 “I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

 “I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

 A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

 Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

 His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

 She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

 “Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

 Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

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