#and since you know english and you know latin‚ you might as well take old english‚ right? that would be fun and interesting

[irate-iguana]

Help.

#you take a myth course or an introduction to classics course #you decide that you might as well take some ancient greek and latin classes to deepen your understanding. why not? #you realize that in order to properly understand these languages‚ you need to know a bit about the languages they were influenced by #maybe you start with middle egyptian and it spirals from there #and since you know english and you know latin‚ you might as well take old english‚ right? that would be fun and interesting #by this point you have decided that you’re gonna be the person who deciphers linear a. you take more language courses #classics #tagamemnon #original post #shitpost #anyway i’m on step 3. i gotta take some more languages to deepen my understanding of ancient greek. what language should i start with? #meme dump

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Plan

So the poll is still running, but I think I'm safe in saying there's sufficient interest, so I'm going ahead and typing up a "how we're going to do this" thing, which I will schedule to post after the poll ends properly. As of the time I'm writing this, over 500 people have voted for the "yes I want to draw things" option, and I had been expecting to get maybe a dozen, so we definitely have enough participants. Let's get started then:

Our Source

I had originally planned to translate an Old or Middle English bestiary, but haven't been able to find a good one -- the best option I was able to dig up only has thirteen critters, which I feel like isn't enough to really have fun with. I was debating the idea of translating a Latin one -- this would have been far more time-consuming since my Latin is terrible, but also I do need to practice it, so I figured it evens out -- when I found a solution that doesn't involve me spending hours and hours on translating.

It seems that when Aberdeen University created their digitized version of the famous Aberdeen Bestiary, they released it under a Creative Commons license. (Assuming I'm reading their copyright policy correctly; I'm not a lawyer.) It does not seem to specify whether the transcriptions and translations they attach to the scanned images are also covered by Creative Commons, but since all of those are already freely available online through their website, I can't imagine they would have a problem with me posting them here as long as I provide attribution (which I am hereby doing right here on this post) and am not using it for commercial purposes (which I am not).

The Aberdeen Bestiary is missing a few pages, but there exists a very similar manuscript, the Ashmole Bestiary (they're sometimes called "sister" manuscripts), which is not missing those pages. And I happen to have a translation of the Ashmole Bestiary in hardcopy on my bookshelf, so I can just use it to fill in the gaps. Edit: whoops, the one I have is the Bodley Bestiary. They are in the same bestiary "family", though, so it still works well enough. (I think that should qualify as "fair use", since I'm only taking excerpts and not using them commercially.)

The upside of using the Aberdeen Bestiary is that it means when I round up all the art of each critter, I can include their very nice illustrations alongside the reveal of what animal was being described.

The downside of using the Aberdeen Bestiary is that since it already is free online, people might be tempted to "cheat" by looking up the entries and finding out what animal they describe. For that, please see the next section...

Guessing the Animal

Guessing what animal is being described is not the point of the exercise. (Feel free to have theories and whatnot, but please keep them to yourself so as not to influence the artists.) If you see an entry and think, e.g., "oh that's describing a raccoon"*, and then you create a picture of a raccoon... well, you could have done a perfectly good raccoon at any point and didn't need this framework to do it. So just don't worry about what animal is meant, and do your best to draw (or paint or stitch or whatever else) based on the description! You're not getting ranked on accuracy and there are no prizes forthcoming, so... just have fun with it.

*Example chosen as something that will, for obvious reasons, definitely not be in a 13th-century European bestiary.

Edit after starting to type these things up: some of these are going to be super easy to guess, though, to the point where I don't know how possible it'll be to block out prior knowledge. Sorry about that.

General Procedure

I'm going to schedule a post every Monday (I'm thinking of queuing them for 6pm Eastern Time) with a new entry. It will be the translation of an entry from the Aberdeen Bestiary with all references to the animal's name replaced by a randomly-generated nonsense word. (Henceforth to be referred to as "nonsense-names". I'm Googling* each one before using them so I don't accidentally generate one that actually means something.) These posts will all be tagged maniculum bestiaryposting, so you can follow that tag if you want to make sure you see them.'

*Later Note: Did you know that if you search dozens of nonsense words within a short span of time, Google makes you prove you're not a robot? Repeatedly?

Anyone who wants to draw the critter being described should do so. (You are encouraged to describe your thought process re: why you've depicted it the way you have.) You can put it in its own post, or reblog the description with an image, or however you want to do it. Then tag your art with the nonsense-name I've given to the animal.This will let me and others find it. (You should probably employ copy/paste there to make sure the spelling is the same, since nonsense words are hard to spellcheck.)

A week after posting the bestiary entry, I'll go through that tag and round up all of the art contributed. Then I'll put the images in a big post (or series thereof, considering how many people might participate), along with an @ and a link to your original post.

If you want...

to not have your work included in the round-up post

to have only a link to your post included and not an image

to have me include a link to your website / other social media / etsy shop in addition to or instead of your tumblr

to have other information included alongside your work

anything else along those lines

... then just say so in your post and I will follow your instructions to the best of my ability.

I will also include, at the end of the round-up post, an image of the creature as depicted in the Aberdeen Bestiary and what it is actually called.

All posts I make on this will be collected at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting so that people can look at previous ones without scrolling through the tag.

Various Notes

I'm going to trim out any religious digressions in the original entries -- bestiary authors had a habit of adding stuff like "and the raccoon is symbolic of god in such-and-such fashion, which teaches us...", and I just don't think that's relevant here.

The entries will also be presented in a random order. This is because they're sorted into categories in the original text, so if I don't change the order we're going to get stuck with, e.g., a few months of All Birds All The Time.

You should all be aware that the animals described are not guaranteed to be, you know, real. There are several entries describing animals that straight up do not exist -- some of which are mythical creatures familiar to most people, others of which are extremely obscure.

Explanations of the animal's name within the entries will be redacted.

If other animals are mentioned within the entries, they will not get replaced with nonsense-names. Originally, I was going to make the switch globally, so that if, e.g., the entry for "raccoon" read "a raccoon is about the size of a possum", and the random generator had decided that a raccoon was a balzikhear and a possum was a flunggrish, the "raccoon" entry would now read "a balzikhear is about the size of a flunggrish". However, I decided that it will cause more problems than it solves to obscure any comparisons to other animals -- so the name-switch is now localized only to the specific entry. A possum is a flunggrish only in its own entry, and remains a possum everywhere else.

I was originally going to do one post for every single entry, but there are a lot of them and they vary wildly in length & quality. So I've cut it down to exactly 52 posts, meaning that if I queue them up for once a week, this will run for roughly a full year.

Most of that cutting-down mentioned above was done by combining a bunch of the really short entries into categories -- the last half-dozen posts in this series will be group entries. You can choose to make art of any of them that strike your fancy, or do a group portrait, or just ignore them --I dunno, I'm not a cop, do what you want.

I did also directly cut some, mostly domesticated animals because there's a somewhat different approach to them based on author and audience familiarity.

So yeah, that should cover everything.

#maniculum bestiaryposting

[church-history]

No, the Easter Season Isn’t Pagan

One of the most common arguments people make against Christianity is that several essential elements of our faith come from ancient pagan religions. For example, there are many books that contend that the entire story of Jesus is more or less plagiarized from earlier pagan stories, and many argue that our most important holidays, such as Christmas and Easter, are simply recycled pagan festivals.

Since it is the Easter season, you might encounter more of these claims than at other times of the year, so let’s take a look at some of them. In particular, let’s look at three of the most common ways that people try to argue that Easter is really just a recycled pagan holiday, and when we do that, we will see that they are little more than smoke and mirrors.

First, we have the argument based on the etymology of our English word “Easter.” Many people say that it comes from the name of the old Germanic goddess Eostre, which supposedly shows that it is just a recycled version of an ancient pagan festival celebrating her. Now, I don’t know enough about the history of the English language to assess the etymological claim here, but even if it is true, this argument still has a huge, gaping hole: the early Christians didn’t speak English.

In the earliest centuries of the Church, Christians spoke Aramaic, Greek, and Latin, and in those languages (as well as all of the Romance languages I am aware of), the word for “Easter” actually comes from the word for “Passover,” the Jewish feast that falls around this same time (and this is exactly what we should expect, since the death and resurrection of Jesus is our new Passover). To take just one example, the Greek word for “Easter” is pascha, which is the exact same word they use for “Passover.”

This shows that even if our English word “Easter” does come from the name of a pagan goddess, that is not the origin of the holiday itself. Christians were celebrating the resurrection of Jesus long before the advent of the English language, so the name “Easter” came about well after the feast was instituted. Consequently, as the names for the holiday in those older, more relevant languages shows, its origin lies elsewhere. The potential etymological link between our English name for it and the goddess Eostre is simply a linguistic curiosity with no relevance whatsoever to the origin of the holiday or the truth of the resurrection.

Pagan Traditions

Another common argument you will often hear is that many of our favorite Easter traditions come from paganism. For instance, people point out that bunnies and eggs, which have nothing to do with the story of Jesus, come from paganism, so once again, Easter is essentially a pagan holiday. But just like the first argument, the logic here just doesn’t hold up.

This argument confuses the substance of the holiday with the way we celebrate it. Sure, we may have borrowed some customs from paganism and incorporated them into our Easter celebrations, but that doesn’t mean that the holiday itself is essentially a pagan feast or that the resurrection never really happened. This has nothing to do with the origin of the feast itself. It simply means that somewhere along the line, some Christians saw some pagan celebrations that they liked, and they chose to incorporate them into their celebration of an already existing Christian holiday.

Paschal Plagiarism

Finally, we come to the only argument that has any real chance of being more than just smoke and mirrors. Many people claim that the whole idea of Jesus’ resurrection was simply plagiarized from stories about ancient pagan gods and goddesses, so it never really happened. For example, they often point to the stories of Osiris, Adonis, and Attis, who, according to these claims, died and rose just like Jesus. Now, if these claims are true, and if the Christian belief in the resurrection of Jesus is just a cheap knockoff of these pagan stories, then yes, this argument would be very strong, and our faith would be in serious trouble. But is that the case?

Not at all. There are a few problems here. First, even if all of these ancient pagan gods were said to have died and risen, that does not prove anything. The mere fact that there is a similarity here does not mean that there is any causal relationship between them. Instead, there is a much more likely background for the Christian belief in the resurrection of Jesus: the Jewish belief in the resurrection of all the dead.

Already in the time of Jesus, the Jews believed that at the end of what they called “this age” (basically what we would consider normal human history), the dead would rise and get their bodies back (Daniel 12:2; 2 Maccabees 7:9, 11, 14, 23), and the first Christians believed that Jesus’ resurrection was simply the beginning of that general resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:12-23, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-16). Now, since Christianity grew out of Judaism, this is a much more likely background for our belief in Jesus’ resurrection than any pagan stories about dying and rising gods.

Real Parallels?

Moreover, once we start looking a bit more deeply at the alleged pagan parallels to Jesus’ resurrection, the argument becomes even less convincing. These stories are actually not all that similar to the Christian story of Jesus’ resurrection, and the vast majority of them come to us from sources that are later than the rise of Christianity.

For example, the story of the Egyptian god Osiris ends with Osiris becoming the ruler of the underworld, which is very different from a real resurrection. On the other hand, the Greek god Adonis became connected to a resurrection only after the rise of Christianity, so even if his story presents a real parallel to Christian belief, the influence goes in the wrong direction for the argument to work properly. His story was almost certainly influenced by Christianity, not the other way around.

source: https://catholicexchange.com/no-the-easter-season-isnt-pagan/

#easter #church history #catholic #eostre #history #Christian

[hearts4robs]

Hiiii there!

Happy New Year ♡

Ooooh I have never done a match-up so I am really curious. I'm gonna go for DC because I only know this fandom and love those weirdos ♡

So I am a 27 years old bi non-binary person (they/them). I'd say I am pretty outgoing and very much talkative. I really like chit-chatting with strangers whom have dogs like at the train station. I am not much of a party person tho, I really like being home and reading stuff, listening to music or going for a nice walk with my dog while listening to my playlists. My favorite artists at the moment are AURORA, Laufey, Apshe, and Rain Paris. I have ADHD and a personality disorder which is why for now I am still under disability insurance but I am getting really well and I hope to finally be able to start my studies to become a librarian. I was very much a good student even for the few semesters I did at uni. I have a huge interest for literature and languages. I have studied latin, german, english, portuguese and arabic. Not fluent in many of them, but I do like taking the time to relearn stuff by myself from time to time. I am good at being self-taught, that's how I got my high school diploma since my health was a hindrance at the time haha. I am kinda a history nerd, love reading about religion in Ancient Greece especially in Attica and I love reading about the Witch Hunts in Europe and North America in the modern era. I do enjoy cosy "culture" and academia aesthetics. I am 5'6', dark brunette mid lenghth wavy hair (a wolf cut if you see what it is) with light brown eyes. I have huge fine golden glasses haha (already the librarian vibe). I am pretty chubby for now, eventhough I am losing weight due to feeling better health-wise. I love wearing button-down white shirts with vests or blazers or floral corsets and black turtlenecks haha.

Ideally, I'd love someone who is able to understand that I have some difficulties that others might not have, but who can be calm when it matters. I hate having huge arguments, if we need to argue I want to be able to talk it out. It's okay to be angry but I hate lashing out or being lashed at. A break to take some fresh air is okay if needed to have a civil conversation. I am not huge on receiving expensive/luxury gifts, it makes me awkward. I'd rather spend time with someone, cook with them or gift little things that are meaningful. I am huge on social activism. I do read a lot about different issues and it's important for me to listen to others and their experiences and try my best to do better with them and for them. I love my dog, she's a rescue and a peach. We lived a bit everywhere for a while because I was homeless around 20, but we managed and have a nice apartement now. I think I am pretty resilient as a person and I always strive do be kind and compassionate when possible because I know no one is born with all the answers and understandings of the world. I paint with watercolor from time to time, but I'd say my favorite hobby is reading and researching stuff because ADHD haha.

I don't like when people excuses stuff because of an illness. I can be an ass and it's okay to tell me and nobody should get a free-pass to be terrible to others. It happens to be shitty but you should strive to make it better if you couldn't avoid doing it at first.

I am a native french-speaker and half Portuguese. I am white European.

I can be a bit loud and outspoken but I always try to be mindful of the space I can take in a conversation with others because I don't want people to feel ignored. I can be adventurous, my 19 birthday was me going by train all alone with a backpack around the northern part of europe for a month. I would sleep at locals' place after talking to them on a specific website. It was great and fun and I saw so many museums ♡ I can be a bit of an airhead, and a tad much too sarcastic sometimes and I tend to switch conversations subjects often because I have links between them that makes sense to me but no one else.

My favortie tropes are friends to lovers, everything fluff, domestic, etc. There's beauty in the mundane ♡ I guess that when your mental health is a rollercoaster, you crave stability and calm easier haha ♡

I hope I gave you enough informations for your match-up.

Sorry, I am really a chatterbox haha ♡ Thank you and take care, dear ♡

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞

“What are you doing?”

“I, uh, think.. I might be building you a bookcase, can’t promise you anything though. IKEA isn’t very clear in their instructions.” Tim says, turning the instruction book upside down in hopes of the illustrations making sense.

A chuckle escapes you as you set down a mug of hot chocolate beside his organised work place on the middle of your living room floor.

“You think?” You ask, taking a seat beside him with a soft grunt, happily letting your dog snuggle up beside you.

“Yes, it’s very frustrating and for some reason, it’s all in French.” Tim says, trying to screw a screw into the proper place. “No, no, that’s not right..” he mutters.

“You do know I’m fluent in French, right?”

Tim slowly glances at you sideways before letting out a huff.

“I can handle it.” He reassures, chewing his lip in annoyance. “Go read your Shakespeare and I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Headcanons:

Tim loves watching you read. He loves how you can both be nerds together.

You don’t live together yet but he visits often enough for your neighbours to know which days of the week you’re free.

He’s so supportive and tries his best to be a stable support system. You started out as friends and he let you crash at his for as long as you needed when you had nowhere to go.

Your dog is no longer “your” dog. It’s “our” dog to Tim.

It took him the whole afternoon to build that bookcase for you.

You’re such a sweetheart, I loved making this!! <3

#pls pet your dog for me🙏 #I thought Tim SO fast #also #Tim falls asleep while you read #★ robins match up event! ★ #★ match up event! ★ #★ robins events ★ #tim drake x reader #tim drake #dc x reader #dc #soft #timothy drake #Tim Drake dc #red Robin #red robin dc

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

This will make more sense if you've read my take on adapting the Silmarillion plot to the Scholomance, but all you really need to know is that these are modern!magic! Elrond and Elros.

Elrond and Elros have spent the last four years frantically studying and getting in shape and trying to learn what they need to survive.

Elrond has learned that he has an affinity for healing spells. Elros's is a less common one; he makes structures stabler and harder to destroy. He's hoping to spin it into making portable objects more durable and less likely to turn on you, but that's tricky on alchemy track.

They have their packs - everything is in trashbags, but Maglor assures them that he went in with the same to save weight.

They have several mana crystals each, though not as many as some people bring. They will have to trade for more storage before graduation, if their parents don't send the Silmaril. (Maedhros is including this in the letter.)

They can both read tengwar and speak Feanor's conlang, along with English. Elrond can speak Latin, Spanish, Finnish, Greek, Swahili, and German.

Elros knows how to brew a wide variety of potions. He can make a paint that works as a tripwire ward for your door, and knows a recipe for one that bites but takes more mana. He knows a potion that enhances senses, and has some of it in an old disposable water bottle in his bag.

They give each other both buzzcuts two hours before induction, and shave their pubes as well for the weight. Maedhros has a number of useful alchemical reagents wrapped in wax paper, and they will get as many of those as can fit in their weight allowance, in packets down to ten grams for precision.

There is a kilogram of completely mundane protein powder in the top of Elrond's trashbag. It will help them keep up their strength even if they eat poorly, but they could easily do without it. There's also a spare outfit in the twins' current size, complete with shoes. It's all there in case Elwing arrives at the last minute to "actually do something for her sons' survival," as Caranthir put it.

They have enchanted rings that will let them communicate with the other in Morse code, a gift from Maglor. There are plenty of mals that kill you slowly, and they might be able to help each other. The rings only weigh a few ounces, and are so stubbornly paired that they'd be no use to a large enclave. They were commissioned from the Feanorians' grandfather, just for the twins, and Maedhros yelled at Maglor for wasting Mahtan's willingness to work with them on something so trivial.

They have a small number of healing bandages, and Elrond knows the spell to sing on existing cloth to make more even though he doesn't have the mana capacity yet. They have another roll with the spell worked on from when the fiber was first woven, that will heal anything short of amputation. Elrond knows spells for the fifty most common mundane diseases or injuries.

They have sharp knives for fending off mals. They have empty canteens, and water purifiers. They have larger clothes appropriate to spending the next four years indoors. They have caffeine pills and multivitamins. They have toothbrushes, and one comb, and all the other necessities.

Maglor hugs them, and after a moment so does Maedhros. Caranthir vacuums their shoes and has them climb on the scale one more time. Amrod nods at them, and says nothing, but then he rarely speaks. Amras shakes their hands.

They feel the pull, and expect to wake up in separate rooms and immediately head for the cafeteria.

They are completely unprepared to arrive instead facing each other on a muddy path.

Neither of them has ever heard of induction failing like this. If they had exceeded the weight, they'd just be stuck in the Feanorians' house.

Also, this is the first time they've been outdoors since they were nine years old, and their first time off the Feanorian's property since they arrived as six-year-olds.

(Elros and Elrond know to be polite. They arrived at the Feanorian compound, they weren't captured. They are being taught how to survive, not trained to be good pack mules. Their parents are in Manchester but they grew up elsewhere. If they want allies for graduation, they can't look desperate.)

(If Elwing sends them the Silmaril, they might be able to fight through without backup. But that's a big if.)

They have absolutely no idea how to find their way in the wilderness.

"While, we're on a path. Right or left?" Elros says

"Right looks like it leads uphill, let's try that and see if we can spot anything."

They can in fact spot something heading uphill: An actual castle.

And the castle appears to have spotted them, with people coming out on horses with swords?

"I hope we didn't crash someone's Ren Fair, that would make this even worse."

"How could this get worse?"

"People at a Ren Fair are having fun pretending to believe in magic. A mal eating your leg would be all part of the show, not a wild coyote."

"If it's all part of the show, so's fighting it off, and my brother healing my wounds with a shower of golden sparkles."

"None of my healing spells do sparkles."

"I can do the sparkles if it will let mundies believe you're fixing my leg."

"Deal."

By this point, the horses have reached Elrond and Elros.

Whatever Renaissance Fair they crashed on is apparently high budget and into fantasy, because the armor and swords are gleaming, and the riders all have pointed ears.

#silmaril saga of scholomance #silm #kidnap dads #silmarillion #my fic #spoilers: the castle is Amon Ereb

[blueskittlesart]

I need to come up with a last name for Link for a fic do you have any suggestions with all of your loz knowledge (other than Link Link. please no more Link Link)

zelda naming conventions r so difficult to replicate genuinely they make me insane in a bad way because it's like. vaguely old english/fantasy names but then an added layer of This Game Was Produced In Japan-ness makes them extra hard to replicate. it does also depend on the context you're going for tho, like if i was to write modern-au link i think giving him the last name Master/Masters would be funny as a master sword reference but if you're being canon-compliant a little more thought has to go into it. (also i assumed you meant botw link when i wrote this so i hope this is what you were going for LOL)

I think something that ends in "son" might be a safe choice since that's an established naming convention in botw already, and since he's the son of a royal guardsman, maybe something like Watson (comes from 'walter' meaning 'army ruler'). or you could also just take a first name with some meaning related to his role and stick it at the end. in general i think english/welsh/irish/french names fit the vibe the best assuming he's from hateno village, but I'm sure other origins would probably work just as well. my personal favorites for this method are Marcel (french, 'little warrior'), cadogan (welsh, 'honor in battle'), and Aleron (Latin, 'eagle' / french, 'knight'--i like that both meanings fit with this one). alternatively, in a lot of other games he was either the son/nephew of or apprenticed to a blacksmith, so "Smith" could also work (yes i know it's boring lol sorry), or maybe "Mason" (I know stonemason and blacksmiths are different but they occupy the same Fantasy Job Space in my mind)

#if i had to pick one i think i'd pick cadogan but that's just because i like how it sounds LMAO #asks

[anticonspiracist]

an ask from the larrie anon

[in reference to this ask and response]

Hi,

Thank you for answering my questions in a serious way. I would like to continue this dialogue for a bit, but I will stay on anon… feels more safe to me.

Due to the length of your ask, I’ve decided to publish it here in pieces to respond more coherently. There’s also a bit at the end that you asked me not to mention so I have edited that bit of your post and noted where the edit is.

A little background info, so you can understand who you’re talking to. I’m a 40 year old woman from the Netherlands. I’m quite fluent in English, but there might be some mistakes here and there, so don’t see those as a lack of intelligence. I’m a mom [edited] and I work in marketing. I have a bachelor’s degree in English literature with minors in sociology, psychology and journalism; I consider myself as intelligent, emphatic, and openminded, but I understand this might mean nothing to you as anyone could say that about themselves.

Some more background info about myself, so you can better understand where I come from: I’m a mid-30s, single, bisexual woman. My college degree is in political science and classical studies – Latin was my concentration. I’m currently enrolled in a graduate program in political psychology. My interest is in the conspiracy mindset and its role in American politics. I have read a couple of studies that investigated the conspiracy mindset overseas, including in Germany. From this limited dataset, it doesn’t appear that the conspiracy mindset in America differs greatly from those in other countries, but until there’s more robust investigation we can’t say that conclusively. Oh also, in my day job I teach emergent bilingual students. My students range from very little English to near-native speakers.

 I became a Larrie during one of the first lockdowns in my country (no conspiracist ideas about the pandemic btw😉 ) a lot of free time drove me to TikTok (which I’ve left since then)

During lockdown for me, I started watching a few different series on streaming platforms and turned to an old hobby, crocheting. Since March 2020 I’ve made like 10 blankets. Now I’ve moved onto quilting! Also now that highly effective N95s are widely available and I have the means to purchase them, I am active in local politics. 

 and I came across videos of Harry. I thought him funny. Knowing TikToks algorithm, I came across more and more Harry videos, which led to 1d, which led to Larry. And that’s basically how it started. I searched through all kinds of info, from larries and anti’s. I think it’s important to mention that ‘I don’t want to believe this is true.’ Although a lot of Larries describe this as the biggest love story on earth, to me it is a story of hardship and oppression of teenage boys. 

I understand that TikTok can be a disorienting experience due to the absence of a clock and that videos placed in front of you have no timestamp, so I’m going to take a moment to remind you that Louis will be 31 years old in December, and Harry will be 29 in February. They are not teenage boys. They’re millennials, just like you and I. 

I’d much rather they didn’t have to go through all that (although I do believe Harry and Louis love each other very much). From what I’ve gathered, I just believe that sadly they did have to endure all that.

Your writing later on directly contradicts this statement, that you’d rather they didn’t have to go through all of what you imagine. In fact, there is overwhelming evidence that they did not go through what larries claim they did and do suffer. Larries so easily dismiss all of this because it doesn’t make them feel good like the imagined oppression does. By viewing these men as needing your help, it gives you a purpose. During the initial lockdowns, so many people throughout the world turned to the comforting thought of a conspiracy theory which had all the answers. You aren’t alone in this phenomenon and it is a well-documented one. 

Now, I am not one of those “ooh, blue and green” larries. To me it’s about a combination of these things:

1. Do I believe the music industry is capable of doing this? Yes, absolutely. While the article added by your friend shows it has been possible for nsync to win against their label, that does not suffice for me to believe 1d would also be able to do so. For one, Nsync’s case was ten years before 1d even existed. Plenty of time for labels to adjust their contracts to prevent this from happening again. Secondly, there is so much evidence from ex-Xfactor contestants pointing to their contracts being unfair, harsh and just impossible to get out of (Rebecca Ferguson, just stated that contracts go on for 20 years for instance. Rebecca Fergusson, Cher Loyd, Jedward and others have all spoken up about the unfairness… are those people all to be ignored? Liam has talked about their treatment, Harry himself has recently talked about impropriety clauses and how it affected him. So yes, I believe something was very wrong during 1d and I think their label and management is to blame.

Louis and Harry have been out of One Direction for longer than the band existed, at this point. Like I mentioned previously, both of them have hired their own management teams. Both of them are in charge of their careers. Both of them are white multimillionaires. When Harry mentioned that clause, please don’t forget the context:

Styles said he often spent interviews terrified about saying the wrong thing until he stopped to question what abhorrent belief or bizarre opinion he was scared he'd accidentally reveal and realized he couldn't think of anything. He thought about how, when good things happened—say, a No. 1 album—he wouldn't feel happy, just relieved. And he thought about the cleanliness clauses in the contracts he used to sign, which would dictate that they would be null and void if he did anything supposedly unsavory, and about how terrified that used to make him. And about when he signed his solo contract and learned that the ability to make music would not be affected by personal transgressions, he burst into tears, a reaction he still seemed shocked by, retelling it to me now, years later. "I felt free," he explained. https://www.bhg.com/better-homes-and-garden-magazine/harry-styles/

The music industry is fucked! That’s not in dispute. But is it so fucked that Harry Styles at the age of 28 is still being treated the same as he was at age 16? By the same people? He’s not bound by the same contract, even. Regardless of what Rebecca Ferguson has said about her dealings with X-Factor, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are not in her shoes. Rebecca deserves people to care about her situation and want to help her because she has gone through it, not because they believe Harry and Louis are in the same situation today. They are demonstrably not.

2. Do I think Harry and Louis are queer? Well, I’m a Larrie… so obviously I think they are. I don’t know whether they are gay, bisexual or anything else on the queer spectrum, but that also doesn’t matter imo. Even if you take Larry out of the equation, I would still believe they are queer. For Harry, what convinced me are his slip-ups. During 1d interviews he would often answer with ‘they, a person who’ when asked about romantic interests, but he would sometimes slip up with ‘he’. Could that be deliberate? Sure, it just didn’t look deliberate to me and I trust my own judgement in that. For Louis, I see no real chemistry between him and the women he was with. I also see him sing a song like “Only the Brave” and it only makes sense to me if he were queer. The way he encourages fans bringing rainbow flags. Could he just be an ally or queerbaiting? I think he would be hugely overshooting the cause if that were the case. Every show he’s looking at a huge portion of his fandom not wondering if he’s gay, but actually believing he’s gay. I believe he is a kind man and would not play with fandom’s feelings that much, nor would he allow the feelings of his loved ones be hurt over and over again (and there would be things he could do to make me think otherwise).

What you didn’t address from my initial response was that if what you believe were to be true, your behavior as a larrie is harmful to Harry and Louis. Your open speculation about their sexualities is harmful. Would you do this to a friend? I had a student about five years ago who was openly gay in my classroom. He came to class one day heated. I asked him what was wrong and he said, “ugh, freshman.” He then related how he’d been walking down the hallway and heard these freshmen girls behind him wondering out loud if he was gay, clearly not intending him to hear, but he did. “I turned around and said, ‘Yes! But you could just ask me, not whisper behind my back!’” That is just what you do when you speculate about people’s sexualities, especially when they have told you in no uncertain terms that they don’t appreciate that speculation. You say you aren’t a “blue green” larrie, but you do prioritize the “signals” that larries claim these men send over the words they actually say. You claim to be able to tell “chemistry” by viewing photos of two people, but that is absurd. To condemn a relationship as false because you see only what you want to see in a limited selection of photographs (larries do not, as a rule, view all photos in a paparazzi series) is, frankly, absurd. As I mentioned before, Louis has said he’s straight. He has spoken often about his love for his girlfriend, and his love for his son. Until and unless he says something else, it is harmful to deny his words. Not because Louis is going to see your blog, but because you have other people viewing your blog and seeing how you ignore what he says, so why would you listen to them? As a teacher, it’s important for me to create a classroom space where students like the one I mentioned can feel safe coming out to me. Part of that is accepting whatever it is that they tell me about themselves. Their perception of their sexuality or gender identity can change drastically over the time period I know them, and if a student comes out to me as gay, it’s possible in two years they come out to me as trans. Ignoring their words is simply not acceptable. When you do that as a so-called fan, you are merely telling your followers that people’s words and truths don’t matter as much as how you feel about the matter. 

3. Do I think Larry have been/are together? Yes. I read your comment about being a teacher and having seen a lot of boys act this way. I have three younger brothers, have always had more guy-friends than girl-friends and, although I recognize there can be a certain playfulness/closeness between especially teens, I have never seen boys caress each other as tenderly as Louis and Harry have been seen doing in moments they didn’t think others would see. It’s the closeness of lovers to me, not of best friends. But,.. up to how you interpret things I guess. I tend to lean towards them being together since the beginning, because I’ve seen no evidence of things having changed.. but, I always try to leave room for the universe being a dick, so I’d say I’m about 90 percent sure they still are together now.

You haven’t seen boys caress each other like you think you’ve seen Harry and Louis do so? Cool. I have! So, what’s the truth?? Regardless, consider how much of the “evidence” that you’ve seen is in gifs, which are always divorced of context and in many cases, are slowed down and/or reversed. Plenty of people who were larries and who have decided that had erred recount feeling duped when they realized just how much of the evidence they’d been shown had been manipulated.

Furthermore, Louis has a long-time girlfriend and a six-year-old son and Harry has a long-term girlfriend and has spoken about how happy he is. That is evidence that what you believe to be true is actually not. You cannot just dismiss out of hand everything that these men say because it doesn’t fit with the conclusion you began with.

Feel free to ask me stuff by the way, happy to have my believes tested.

I am aware of confirmation bias and that is one of the reasons of me contacting you. To really discover the truth you have to consider the opposite as well. I do wonder however if you are aware of your own confirmation bias. You stated that you were already interested in conspiracy theories before entering fandom and the article that lured you in had the exact term ‘conspiracy’ to trigger you in it’s title. Is it possible you too only see things confirming your believes? Have you actually gone through all the information Larries provide? Have you tried seeing the other side as I am now?

I have, actually, gone through every bit of so-called evidence that larries have provided. Every scrap of it has been debunked. My first 20 days in fandom I had a larrie trying to recruit me. She was unsuccessful.

What you’ve named a confirmation bias in my regard is actually not that at all – it’s a bias toward reality, and what can be proven. You and other larries claim that somehow, Harry and Louis are contracted to do these things against their will, but have no evidence of that, cannot name who else is party to these contracts, and also cannot explain how, if Harry and Louis don’t want to be in this situation, they can’t just … breach the contract and wait to be sued by … whoever. It’s at this point in the conversation that the larrie without fail said I’m ignorant, homophobic, et cetera.

You say closeting doesn’t happen the way we think, with paid beards. How do you know though? It’s possible there are many other examples we just don’t know about. What specifically lead me to believe it is possible, is Louis Theroux’s doc “When Louis Theroux met… Max Clifford”. Specifically the part where Louis asks Max what he would do if someone were gay. The answer being that he would create a long relationship. Create… does not seem like he would ask a friend of the gay person to act as a beard to me. Max Clifford being closely connected to Simon Cowell and having worked with 1d in the beginning cements this for me. I absolutely think they would employ someone to beard. I don’t think Holivia is that way though. Harry and Olivia both gain from this arrangement in other ways.

How do I know? How do you know there are bearding contracts? What I do know is that every example that larries bring up of bearding does not coincide with their beliefs about how Harry and Louis are allegedly closeted. Larrie evidence for their existence is simply because you want it to exist because it explains why both of these men have women in their lives, look happy, and speak about them. Whatever you think is real doesn’t matter. You say it is happening with no evidence whatsoever except for your feelings. You have the burden of proof here, and you haven’t proven anything.

One last thing I want to address is your evidence of how closeted people in bands behaved. How they were mostly scared to come out and never told anyone even. I understand your point. I also understand how unfair it has been to Lance Bass. I personally never bring up Lance Bass, I try to look at situations as a part of a whole, but also separate from everything else. I think though that Harry and Louis’s situation differs from those others because there were two of them in the same band. Had it only been one of them, maybe they would’ve also stayed silent., but being a pair changes the dynamic. They were stronger as a pair, they were together so much and if the person you love is right in front of you.. you don’t just stay silent.

Cool. Louis had a girlfriend during X-Factor, Hannah, and then after Hannah began dating Eleanor. Louis is a serial monogamist. What you’re writing about is fan fiction. And I’ve got nothing against fic! I love fic. However, don’t conflate fictional stories on the internet with reality.

I don’t think I fit the mould of a conspiracy theorist, but which ct does? The way I see myself considering this situation is: I saw something wrong in 1d/Larry. I am very concerned for those men. I admire them a lot. Would it break my heart if it were not real, no. Do I think it is real, yes.

What you saw were TikTok videos about a band that broke up in December 2015 created by conspiracy theorists. When the pandemic began, I mentioned to @back-to-louis that we were going to see a surge in conspiracy theorists of all kinds due to the mass trauma being felt across the world. There was a surge of larries just like there was a surge of anti-vaxxers and QAnon believers. No one is naturally immune from falling down the rabbit hole, but some people are more susceptible to it than others. I was already extremely online prior to March 2020 and am able to suss out good sources from bad. I also had healthy hobbies to fill the extra time I found on my hands. Though I live alone, because so many of my friends were actually internet friends, I wasn’t missing out on in-person social activities like others were. And outside of these considerations, through being a teacher and informal research on the subject, I had already inoculated myself against conspiratorial thinking. I can recognize the hallmarks of a CT easily and I don’t fool myself into thinking that any of them are harmless.

Not sure if I covered everything, but I am out of time right now. Looking forward to having you and your friends dissect me 😉… 

You haven’t covered everything. You completely ignored the antisemitism present in your conspiratorial beliefs and have nothing to say about who could possibly be forcing all of this oppression on these white multimillionaires.

#ask #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #larrie anon #tiktok #conspiracy theory #all conspiracy theories are the same #all conspiracy theorists are the same

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 15

Summary: the Art Club has a new member, and Jim asks for Brady’s help.

OCs featured: Lysander Mercury @slytherindisaster, Bradford Pendleton IV @kc-and-co

Warnings: one lovesick teenage boy.

March 1896

The still relatively young Hogwarts Art Society was about to start its tenth meeting. It was a somewhat momentous occasion; not only did this meeting mark the fourth month of the society’s existence, but they were also welcoming their first female member.

“I was not aware that you had an interest in art, Ophelia,” said Lysander, frowning at the newcomer.

“I have many interests,” was Ophelia’s response.

“Ah. Do you prefer sketching or painting?”

“Yes.”

Lysander shared a look with Jim, and both boys quickly averted their eyes from Ophelia.

“Where is Brady, I wonder?” Jim thought out loud. “We are… That is to say, we were supposed to be practising with colour today.”

As if on cue, Bradford Pendleton the Fourth sauntered into the classroom that the society had commandeered for their meetings, a large leather sketchbook tucked under one arm.

“Dreadfully sorry, old chaps,” he said, before doing a quick double take at Ophelia and adding, “and lady.” He bowed his head to her as a greeting, and Ophelia immediately smiled and sat up poker straight in her seat. Brady took his own, still talking as did so, “I got caught up in a conversation, you know? That poor new girl, the French one-”

“Héloïse,” said Jim, without even meaning to say anything at all. The name echoed in his ears, like it had done for a few weeks previously, ever since he had learned of Matilda’s true identity.

“Yes, Héloïse Perrault, that is the one. She has been attempting to teach herself English. I did offer to give her lessons, but she was not too keen on that idea. Seems like she’s doing a far better job on her own than I’d have expected, generally speaking, but she had a few questions about some specifics. Didn’t think that she’d want to approach Nyberg, for obvious reasons, so I thought that I’d help her out,” Brady continued, levitating his open sketchbook onto an easel as he spoke. “Jolly nice girl, though perhaps a little too French, if you understand my meaning.”

Jim did not understand Brady’s meaning in the slightest, but then he did not speak any French, nor any other language besides his native English, for that matter. His mother had attempted to teach both him and Ethel Latin as children, but it had been a somewhat fruitless endeavour. Ethel may have been good at the subject if she had put any effort into her learning whatsoever, but Jim was nearly hopeless, in spite of his labours. He had been relieved when his mother had given up on the idea of teaching the twins Latin entirely, less than a year after first commencing the lessons. Now though, he was beginning to regret not having persevered with his second language. After all, it might have been useful. Brady’s ability to speak French was certainly proving useful to him, at least.

“It must be rather… well, lonely,” Jim mused, realising that no one had spoken for several moments. “For one to be unable to understand or communicate with those around them, that is.”

“Oh, yes. Jolly lonely, I’d wager,” agreed Brady. “But I’m certain that she will pick it all up soon enough. She seems like an intelligent sort of person.”

“But until then…”

“Now, don’t you fret, old chap. There’s plenty of us here that have had French tutoring during our youth, after all.”

“Would you be able to tutor me?” Jim asked, before he could stop himself. When Brady gave him a quizzical look, he cleared his throat. “That is… What I mean to say, rather, is that if more of us were to speak her language, it might be, uh… Well, there would be a more welcoming environment, would there not? And, well, they do… they do say that French is a, uh… a wonderful language to learn, and, um…”

“I would also like to learn to speak French,” said Ophelia, and Jim nearly passed out from the sheer relief he felt not to have the others’ eyes solely on him anymore. “Naturally, I also had many private tutors growing up, but sadly, my education was somewhat lacking where foreign languages are concerned.”

Brady appeared to consider the proposal for a moment, before once more pointing his wand at his barely touched art materials, and with a single flick of his wrist, packing them all away.

“Very well, chaps,” he said, placing his wand back into his pocket and making his way over to a blackboard at the front of the classroom. “Let’s all learn some French.”

#the beginning of a symphony #hogwarts legacy #the hexley legacy #jim hexley #ophelia burke #lysander mercury #bradford elijah pendleton iv

[crristinaa-level6]

Specialist Practice

Draft information for my book

Page Content 

Knowing the rule

Sentence structure 

Word order shift Emphasis 

More on altering word order 

Knowing the rule  (Conocer la regla)

Although computer-based translations for some languages may be effortless, there are significant challenges with Spanish-to-English translation and writing in Spanish. Despite the apparent relationship between these two languages, there exist numerous grammatical differences that demonstrate their actual lack of close relation. In contrast, Spanish is part of the Romance (Italic/Latin) language family consisting of Italian, Portuguese, French, Provencal Catalan and Romanian - yes even including Romanian!

On the other hand English belongs to the Germanic (Low German) language group comprising modern-day Low German Dutch Flemish Frisian Afrikaans; add High German to this mix and Yiddish comes into play as well. As such given knowledge about linguistic roots lying behind both Spanish ancestry and origins relating through time towards Old England's origins, one should hardly expect much similarity existing among them at all making it no wonder why sentence structures greatly differ across each tongue today.

Sentence Structure

To gain a clearer comprehension of how to organize a sentence in Spanish, let's analyse some practical illustrations showcasing the dissimilarities between the sentence structures used by both languages. Initially, we will scrutinize word positioning.

English: the student is intelligent 

The word order consisting of an article, subject noun, verb, and adjective (complement) is fairly uncomplicated in the English language.

Now, let's examine how you can express this in Spanish.

Spanish: es inteligente el estudiante 

Here, the order of words is verb followed by adjective, article and then subject noun.

Es inteligente el estudiante 

The word order identified in this sentence is adjective followed by verb, article and subject noun.

Interligente es el estudiante 

The observed order of words is adjective followed by verb, article and then subject noun.

While placing the verb at the beginning of a sentence typically signifies an inquiry or questioning, it is not always indicative of such in Spanish since it may alternatively denote a conclusion.

By employing additional words and lexical phrases to increase sentence complexity, the emphasis in a sentence can be shifted from one grammatical element to another. In Spanish, several different possible word orders may or may not convey a subtle variation in meaning.

Word order shifts the emphasis 

Another example of using word order to shift emphasis in a sentence when writing in Spanish will be examined.

English: Juan Jose sang a song for his mother 

The arrangement of words in this sentence follows the sequence of subject, verb, article, direct object and prepositional phrase.

Spanish: Juan Jose canto una cancion para su madre 

The word order remains consistent in both languages for this sentence. However, we can modify it when writing in Spanish as demonstrated by these instances. It is noteworthy that the placement of prepositional phrases varies significantly in Spanish.

Canto Juan Jose una cancion para su madre 

Juan jose canto para su madre una cancion

Para su madre canto juan jose una cancion 

Furthermore, there exist several other potentialities that can arise. This certainly explains why one might need clarification when attempting to write in both Spanish and English.

More altering word order

The order of words in the Spanish language can be changed to:

A change of meter and rhyme as in poetry 

Dramatic effect 

Altering the meter of the sentences or phrases as in a song 

Establishing other poetic effects 

Altering the emphasis of the sentence elements 

Taking into consideration these writing aspects in Spanish can aid your learning process by minimizing confusion and reducing errors. Learners of the Spanish language need to avoid thinking that its structure is solely based on English grammar principles. Instead, an open mind towards the immense possibilities offered through changes made to word order should be adopted. Additionally, several rules governing written expression in Spanish are applicable across related languages within this linguistic family; hence their acquisition proves valuable as a useful tool.

#will it blend #information #book #visual communication

[writingsbychlo]

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a  wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/reader smut #stiles stilinski teen wolf #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien

[horribletimemanagementskills]

So, language barrier AU

this is lowkey kinda outdated since TWST ENG came out, but I found this funny. Also I in no way am the creator of this AU, i don't know who made it but I'm a big fan-.

so take it as the Original JP version in the sense where in TWST Japanese is called Commonspeak (I think? I might've read too many fanfics-), and probably the most spoken language there, along with other languages (idk if they have other names as well) like Arabic(Scalding Sands) and French(Rook).

Basically all languages are spoken except English, which is considered a dead language like Latin, which is odd bc I'm pretty sure Latin is mentioned there or is hinted in TWST, like Idia is based off of Hades and ancient books mention so hypothetically-

anyways what I actually wanted to get into was:

what If a MC/Yuu that spoke English, whether first language or later learned, monolingual or can speak a few languages, tried to teach the first years English?

Like some people who learn English as a second language say its a bitch of a language to learn, with rule inconsistencies and pronunciations, English is my first language and I still don't understand some things-

It doesn't have to be first years only, teach them some grammar rules, imagine the chaos:

p-u-t and b-u-t pronunciation

weight and height

tell the difference between eight and ate pronunciation wise-

past participles, specifically the lie-lay-lain kinda stuff (I still don't get them if I loose the mark I loose the mark)

tear (like paper) and tear (crying)

Taught though thought through throughout thorough tough (this was copy and paste-)

random letters in a word that hold no significance in the pronunciation

two letters that are placed in a different way than they are pronounced , like Wednesday (dn and not nd, 1st grade spelling tests were 🤺🤺)

wait till they start speaking in better grammar than MC/Yuu can

Another more realistic scenario by my standards is that MC/Yuu gives up on teaching them and only teach them essentials, giving them the true meaning or twisting them you choose.

The main words taught would be curse words and no, yes, maybe, incompetent crow. If you twist the words' meanings the cast might still catch on bc like MC/Yuu gets visibly frustrated, and curse in English, I think they would realize sooner or later.

Also anything like cognates (words that are spelt and/or pronounced similar, I think cognates is for Spanish but you know what I mean) would be funny. Similarly words that look and sound similar, but mean completely different, this isn't only for Japanese but whatever other languages are indicated to exist there.

I feel the 1st years and Grim would learn it better than the rest, excluding Lilia, Malleus (both are old asf, might as well have read it) and maybe Crowley (probs a fae) and Idia (and to that extent Ortho they would have had access to it, and maybe some others as well).

And tbh this can go for any other language as well (besides Japanese-), minus the "knowing a language no one else knows" curse privilege, I doubt a lot of people would know Finnish, Norwegian, Korean, Creole/Patois of any language (for my Caribbean and African amigos), Chinese and probably some others as well.

French, I mean Rook probably already understands and to an extent Vil, Lilia and some others would as well, Japanese is the main language spoken there.

this is messy, Idk I just find this idea neat- add more give me brainrot if you want

#this is a mess #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twsited wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc #twst thoughts #twst first years #twst theory #what other tags- #Twst Read Please Read

[mischiefandspirits]

Internship

In a world where Bruce’s acquisition of his kids isn’t as legal, but is just as well-meaning, Jason receives a worrying video that leads Dick to follow in his father's footsteps.

This takes place about four and a half years after the events of Before the Red Hood

Click here for more of this AU

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

Pros and cons of punching Kenny Jameson in the face, Jason thought as he made his way to English class. Pro: I got three months free from jeers about my bastard brother and whore mom when I punched Michael Davis. Con: I also got suspended for two weeks and benched from patrol for a month when I punched him. Pro: Kenny’s bigger and older than Michael so that might earn me more cred and keep the snobs away even longer. Con: Missing school and patrol sucked.

Jason was still contemplating the issue when someone ran into him, their hand slipping into his pocket to drop something. He sighed internally because now he’d have to play dumb about not knowing that something was in his pocket. It was probably contraband. His assailant probably already had a friend talking to a teacher about how concerned they were so soon enough an adult would come by for a random search. It would be too soon for Jason to have noticed it so the teacher would find it and he’d get in trouble, giving the other kids a good laugh. The only problem for them was that Jason had grown up in Crime Alley. This kid was a lot better than some of the others who’d pulled the trick, but you didn’t live long in the Alley if you couldn’t notice even the slickest of fingers sliding into your clothes.

Of course, no one at Gotham Academy could know he grew up in the Alley. He was supposed to be Bruce Wayne’s son, born to some fling he’d had during a trip to France. This meant that he’d have to pretend not to notice until the kid was gone and he could use a little Bat magic to make the contraband disappear.

At least he could get angry about the kid running into him.

He took a deep breath and looked down, bristling for a fight. Then he looked down even further to stare blankly at the absolutely tiny middle-schooler staring nervously up at him. The kid was almost a head shorter than Jason, who himself was small for his age, and nearly as thin as Jason had been when his dad had first found him. They were Latine with neatly gelled, pitch-black hair and stormy gray-blue eyes. Honestly, the kid was so small Jason worried they’d somehow managed to sneak out of the elementary school building.

“S-sorry, Mr. Jean-Wayne. Sorry,” they stuttered out.

Shit, there was no way this ball of nerves was screwing with him. Which meant he was going to have to track down whoever had forced the kid into it and punch them in the face.

The old man was going to be ticked when he got back to town to find out Jason had gotten suspended again.

“It’s fine, kid. Just be more careful next time. You okay?”

They nodded, then raced off in the direction they’d been heading before.

Jason watched them go with a frown and casually slipped his hands into his jacket pockets to find out what the kid had snuck him. Instead of drugs or a weapon, though, he found a thumb drive. Curious, he slipped it into a hidden pocket in his jacket sleeve. Then when he got to his classroom without being accosted, he plugged it into a slim black gadget in his messenger bag while pretending to look for his homework.

The gadget, which Dick named the bat-mimic, was technically a portable charger, but if the power button was pressed in a certain order then it would copy everything off a device that was plugged into it onto a cordoned-off portion of the Batwave servers. The bat-mimic could also then delete everything off the device if another code was punched in, which Jason did in case the drive had porn, bomb blueprints, something else on it that would get him in trouble.

Since the bat-mimic sent an alert through Batwave when it was used, he was expecting a call so he slipped into a staircase as soon as he got out of class. Right on time, Barbara’s face lit up his phone.

He stuck his earbuds in and answered the call. “Hey -”

“Where did you get all this?”

“What?” Jason said, surprised by her serious tone.

“You’re supposed to be at school. Where did you get all this?”

“Some kid gave it to me on a thumb drive.” Crap, did the drive actually have bomb blueprints on it? Wait, “I actually am at school, for the record. So don’t go telling Dad I ditched like last time.”

“You did ditch last time.”

“Yeah, but only History. And only because my teacher’s racist so there’s no point being in there. You didn’t have to snitch. Dick didn’t say anything.”

“He’s the one who help-Nevermind. You said a kid gave you all this?”

All? “Yeah, little stickman. Figured an older kid must have bribed or hassled them into trying to get me in trouble. Why?”

His phone's text tone sounded and Barbara asked, “Is this him?”

He looked at the picture she’d sent him to see what appeared to be the kid’s school photo. “Yep. Why? What was on the drive?”

“Documents and spreadsheets that act as evidence that Jack and Janet Drake have been laundering money and smuggling for the Court of Owls.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s nothing that could solidly prove anything, especially not that the Court exists, and most of the real info is in the Court’s code, which we know will be thrown out if anything went to trial, but I know the signs.”

“Why the fuck would a kid have that stuff, let alone give it to me?”

He got another message. “He’s Timothy Drake, the Drakes’ son. And I don’t know why he’d give it to you specifically, but I know why he reached out.”

She’d sent him a video this time. It opened up looking into a tree at a bird. The camera zoomed in and out on the bird before slowly panning around a garden lit by either early morning or late evening light. It stopped on a fountain where the focus shifted back and forth between it and the ivy wall behind it.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” a voice called and the camera turned to show a lithe Latina woman and a squat White man who Jason recognized as Janet and Jack Drake.

Janet was closer to the camera and it focused on her as Timothy’s voice said, “I’m testing out my new camera. I took some pictures of the sunrise and now I’m -”

“That’s nice, dear,” Janet said dismissively. “You’re father and I need to talk to you about something. Do you remember the very important meeting we told you about?”

“Of course. It’s why you had to come back early from Kaznia.”

“That’s right. As it is, the meeting went off without a hitch. We’ve managed to secure a deal that will be very profitable for both Drake Industries and our family, which is where you come in.”

The view dropped and the Drakes fell out of view. “Me?”

“Yes. The group we’re dealing with has… an internship program, of sorts. We’ve discussed how intelligent you are and they believe you could be a welcome addition to the program with some training.”

“You-Wh-what kind of program? What would I be doing?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be much different than what you do in your little gymnastics and karate classes.”

“Mixed martial arts,” Timothy corrected, voice breathless, and Jason started to get a bad feeling.

“Yes, yes, those. As I was saying, this is a big opportunity for us. The group usually doesn’t take applications like this, but your father and I made quite the case for you.”

“You asked them to t-let me in?” he said, something broken in his voice and Jason slammed his hand against the wall.

“Yes. I told you, it’s quite the opportunity. If you make it through their tests, you will solidify our family’s place within the group. You want to help the family, don’t you?”

“I-I do, but -”

“Of course you do,” Jack spoke up for the first time. “After all we’ve done for you, it’s the least you can do. Isn’t that right, sport?”

“Yes, but maybe there’s another way I could be useful. I could -”

“Timothy,” Janet tutted. “Your father and I agreed that this is for the best.”

“But -”

“That’s enough,” Jack snapped, cheerful voice going hard. “I won’t have any more backtalk, got it?”

“Yessir,” Timothy said quickly.

“Good. This is an important deal and I won’t have your poor manors ruining it.”

Timothy’s hands briefly came into view as he fidgeted with the camera, but dropped away almost immediately. In a quiet voice, he said, “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

A clap sounded as Janet said, “Now that that’s settled, you need to head up to your room and get ready. Mrs. Gryason is going to be picking you up directly after school so I want you looking your absolute best.”

“Mrs. Grayson?”

“Yes, you remember her from Samantha Vanaver’s party last spring? She runs recruitment for the program. She and her husband will pick you up from school and take you to the program’s facility.”

“T-today?”

“No time like the present,” Jack joked.

“So hurry up. Best foot forward, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The view shifted as Timothy turned to walk away and his hand appeared onscreen again just before the video ended.

Jason wanted to throw his phone, preferably at Janet Drake’s face. How could she sound so calm and disinterested while talking about…

“Please tell me they weren’t talking about what I think they were talking about?”

“It adds up. We already know Mary's in charge of finding new kids to turn into Talons,” Barbara said with an anger laced voice. “The Drakes are also new money. They’d need something big if they wanted actual places amongst the Court.”

“Something big like selling their kid to psychopaths to be turned into an undead assassin,” Jason muttered in Miagani. “So you think the drive was the kid’s way of getting help?”

“He certainly seems to know more than Janet and Jack think he does. Maybe he overheard them talking about the Court or found something in their files.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. Or probably couldn’t see him, you never knew with Barbara. “And then, what? You think he went through his parents’ stuff to get all those files?”

“He might have already had them if he knew enough about the Court to be afraid. I’d say he quickly filled up the drive with the files and this video then left it with you as an in case of my disappearance type thing. He must know -- or at least hope -- that Bruce isn’t part of the Court.”

“Well fuck that. We can’t just let the talons get him.”

“I know, but there’s a lot here, and even if there’s something I overlooked, it would take too long for the police to go through it all and gather enough to have reasonable cause to take custody of him. If they even could, knowing the Court."

Jason growled and ran his fingers through his hair. There had to be something they could do. They couldn’t just leave that shrimp to the same fate his dad had saved Dick from.

His dad.

“Hey, Barbie, what’s Dickie doing right now?”

“… Why?”

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

“Are you going to eat that or not?”

Tim blinked and looked up at Zoanne, an older girl he usually ended up sitting next to for lunch due to a lack of other options. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at your food for twenty minutes,” she said, not looking up from her book. “I’ll take your pudding if you’re not going to eat it.”

Tim looked back down at his food, then passed her the pudding.

He felt nauseous and shaky so he was sure anything he ate was just going to come right back up. He wished he’d just gone straight to Wayne Manor that morning after his parents had broken the news. He hadn’t wanted to risk leading someone to Batman if he was being watched, though. He had thought slipping the drive to Nicolas Jacques “Jay” Jean-Wayne (aka Red Hood) was a good idea, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. What if Jacques just tossed the drive? What if he waited until he got home to look at it? What if he thought it was just a trap and ignored it? What if the files weren’t enough to convince Batman that Tim’s parents were part of the Court of Owls so he thought Tim really was just being sent to an internship?

Tim pushed his tray away and put his head down on the table.

Zoanne took his juice.

He stayed like that through the rest of lunch hour, contemplating if he’d be able to sneak out of the school. He’d gotten good at sneaking over his years of following the Bats and Nightwing, but sneaking out of an empty mansion and across rooftops was a lot harder than sneaking out of a populated school with security at every exit.

A chime signaled the end of lunch and Tim groaned.

Zoanne gathered her things and headed back inside, giving his back a quick pat as she went.

After a minute, he reluctantly peeled himself off the table and stood. He put on his backpack, then reached for his tray.

An arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him up onto someone’s shoulder. Tim tried to squirm away until he heard someone shout, “Holy shit, that’s Nightwing!”

Tim turned to look at his captor. He saw dark gray pouches, the black-armored back of a suit, the suit’s cobalt shoulders, and a familiar head of brown-black hair. Nightwing (aka Dixon “Dick” Wayne) turned to smile at him.

“What is he doing here?”

“Who’s that he’s got?”

“I got a call saying you needed a rescue,” Nightwing said, ignoring the whispers coming from around the courtyard, and Tim nodded.

“Does that mean Batman’s here?”

“Where’s security!?”

“Brace yourself,” Nightwing whispered as he pulled out a grappling gun.

“Stay where you are!” a guard shouted as he ran into the courtyard, but Nightwing and Tim were already taking to the air.

A wave of relief crashing over him, Tim bit down a laugh and relaxed into Nightwing’s grip as the young man raced across Gotham Academy’s roof and grappled onto a nearby building. It worked. Red Hood had gotten his message and now he would be safe. He wouldn’t be turned into… turned into a…

A sound slipped out of him that was a hysterical mix of a giggle and a sob and Tim covered his mouth, pressing his face into Nightwing’s back.

Despite his efforts, the vigilante must have heard him. He slowed to a stop and set Tim down on top of an air conditioning unit. “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. You’re okay. I won’t hu-”

Tim threw his arms around Nightwing’s neck. “Thank you!”

The vigilante quickly hugged him back, and Dick’s hug was just as good as he remembered.

“I wasn’t sure if Jason would get my message in time,” he sniffed.

“Yeah, Jean-Wayne was worried about the message and sent it to his father, who -” Nightwing pulled away with a frown. “Wait, what did you say?”

Rubbing his eyes, Tim went back through his words. The blood left in his face in a rush. “I-I said I wasn’t sure if Jacques would get my message in time.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he squeaked, trying to shuffle backward despite the arms still wrapped around him.

“Kid.” Nightwing let go of him, only to grab his shoulders. “Hey, Timothy, it’s okay.”

“Tim.”

“Tim,” Nightwing agreed. “Can you take a deep breath for me, Tim?”

He nodded and forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Good. Now, can you tell me why you called him Jason instead of Jacques?”

Tim bit his lip then leaned his forehead against Nightwing’s chest. “I know.”

“Know?”

“That Jacques is Jason. Red Hood. And you’re Dick Wayne.” Tim glanced up at the vigilante then looked back down. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’m not mad. Just worried. Who told you this?”

“No one,” Tim said quickly, looking up. “I swear. No one told me and I haven’t told anyone. I’ve been super careful, especially after finding out who my par-my parents are working with.”

Nightwing met his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Okay, Tim. I believe you. I still need to know how you know if no one told you, though.”

Tim nodded. “I doubt you remember, but five years ago you rescued me when Two-Face took over GNHM while my class was on a field trip. One of the guys grabbed me when you and Batman showed up and you got me away from him. Then, a month later, we were both at an event for Gotham Academy that got attacked by Mr. Freeze. Batman and Nightwing showed up, but it wasn’t you. He was slightly thinner and shorter and his skin was lighter and his hair was just black instead of brown-black plus they didn’t move like you so I thought about it and I realized someone else must have been pretending to be Nightwing and the only reason that would happen was if you were already at the event as a civilian and Batman wanted to cover it up so I considered everyone who was at the party and narrowed it down to people around the right age with similar body types and skin tones since hair and eyes could be faked then I looked up everyone that was left to see if there was any other times they were in the same place as Nightwing and I found that footage of when Penguin kidnapped Dixon Wayne right after he first appeared in public and I realized Nightwing looked weird in that too because he looked too close to how you had looked the last time you’d been seen with the Titans which had been almost a year earlier so then I realized that if you were Nightwing then Mr. Wayne would have to be Batman so I started comparing him and -” he cut off with a blush as the sounds of sirens cutting through the air made him realize he’d been rambling. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll get to the point. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Nightwing said, his voice soft, and he rubbed Tim’s arms. “I wanted to know, remember, and the more details you can give us the better. You’re more than welcome to infodump.”

Infodump? Tim wondered.

The vigilante glanced towards the school. “Though maybe we should take this somewhere a little more private.”

Tim nodded and Nightwing piggy-backed him across two more roofs then down into an alley where the Batmobile was hidden.

#dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #red hood #red robin #fanfiction #witness protection: vigilante style #batnapping au

[gringolet]

INTRO TO ARTHURIANA MASTERPOST

under the cut for absurd length

HOW TO GET STARTED WITH ARTHURIANA

The Arthuriana fandom is very broad and there's no one piece of media, which can be confusing for people just getting into it! There’s no right way to engage with arthuriana, and no minimum level of knowledge or reading you need to attain to qualify. 

The basis of the Arthurian Legend is a body of hundreds of texts written across the medieval and early Renaissance period in dozens of languages and cultural traditions. Which can seem pretty overwhelming, but there are a lot of modern vernacular translations-- you absolutely don’t have to learn old French or anything. I’ll go more in depth on where to get started with texts further down.

You also don’t have to read texts at all. As I said, there is no minimum basis-- if you prefer to engage with modern adaptations, or want to engage with medieval arthuriana outside of reading texts, that's also cool! 

In terms of modern adaptations there is a wealth of choices, which I am very much not an expert in lol, so I’m afraid I can’t give much in the way of reccs. Books I have heard good things about are, Exiled from Camelot, Idylls of the Queen, The Buried Giant, the Squire's Tale series, and Gawain by Gwen Rowley (warning that this one is apparently erotica? Good for him). I trust @princesslibs  for modern book reccomendations. and if you speak French Kaamelott is purportedly a very good tv show. Frankly no modern adaptation will ever be better than Spamalot to me, but that's just my personal take. 

If you are curious about engaging with texts but (understandably) don’t want to read a ton of dense medieval literature, one really cool resource is Norris J Lacy's New Arthurian Encyclopedia, which you can pick up at most used bookstores for under ten bucks. It’s a very thorough easy to look through reference of characters stories and texts. I know a lot of people like the Nightbringer wiki, though I personally am wary of it because it basically never cites sources. It’s a good quick reference though and a lot of people like it, I’d just take it with a grain of salt. Sparknotes also has a lot of summaries of the major texts like Le Morte D’Arthur and the romances of Chrétien De Troyes. You are not a fake fan for doing this I promise. And of course you’re always welcome to send me an ask <3 

Finally, getting started with texts. Quick glossary of terms:

--Verse Romance

    A verse (poem) story which can vary a great deal in length. These deal with the adventures of individual knights, usually Gawain, and tend to have a great deal of magical elements and the stereotypical monster slaying, questing, damosel rescuing knight adventures.

--Prose Novel or Romance

    A non poetic narrative, more like a modern novel, more likely to deal with the fall of Arthur, sword in the stone, Mordred, fall of Camelot sort of affair. They are usually quite long. Most famous of these are Le Morte D’Arthur and the French Vulgate, but there are a slew of late medieval Prose novels floating around. Eluding Rey.

--Pseudohistory

    I’m gonna b real these are boring I think. These are, as the name suggests, written as accurate depictions of history.  They very much are not, but they claim to be. Most famous of these is Jeffrey of Monmouth, Mr Jeff Mouth himself, and his History of the Kings of Britain, which I haven’t read because it bores me. You can if you want. It’s in Latin. Whatever. These tend to be some of the earliest texts, and include the “lives of saints” stories. Life of Gildas is the only funny one.

--Ballads

    These are only arguably texts, as most of them were written after the time of the “canon” being composed. But I like them. These are songs telling stories, recorded by people like Francis Child and Thomas Percy. They are very short and fun and include stories like The Boy and the Mantle, Kempion, and King Arthur and the King of Cornwall.

--Lai

    A specific type of French verse poem, usually quite short. The most famous collection of lais are those of Marie le France, including things like Bisclavret and Lanval. 

--Traditions

    Since Arthuriana was written all over, there are different literary traditions across time and space. The French tradition is one of the most famous, including works like the vulgate, Chretien and a lot of verse romances. The English tradition is one of the most influential on modern adaptations, including the Morte D’Arthur and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. There are also Welsh, German, Dutch, Hebrew, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Tagalog, Greek, Belarussian, Scottish, Irish, Breton, and probably even more. There’s a lot. It’s very cool and sexy.

A note that there is also a big tradition of Victorian revival Arthuriana. I wrote a starter guide to that here, it’s all very fun and like, aesthetic. 

Alright, now, which texts do you start with?

If you’re a little intimidated by long texts or medieval lit, starting with short verse romances in modern translation is a great place to start. These include Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which is very good and gay and well known, Lancelot and the Hart With The White Foot, which is very good and gay and underappreciated, or Lanval, which is homophobic but funny. 

If you want to start with what is considered the oldest King Arthur Story, Culwch and Olwen is short and fun!

If you want to read about the grail quest, you can start where it started with Story of the Grail or Percival, then the four continuations, Essenbachs Parzival, the vulgate version of the Grail quest which you can buy paperback for like 5 bucks (I can also scan my copy for you just shoot me an ask <3)

If you want to read about the fall of camelot, I have the Vulgate death of Arthur section scanned here. There’s also the Alliterative and Stanzaic mortes, which are in middle English. I have scanned Simon Armitage's Alliterative Morte translation here. I’m working on my own translation of the Stanzaic but it’s not done lol. If you want the first third or so DM me lol. King Artus is very short and readable and it’s a Jewish text which is really cool.

If you want to read about Lancelot, Chrétien de Troyes Lancelot is his first text. He also has a whole long vulgate section, the first part is scanned here by val <3, and there's Lanzelet,  Sebile is in it so it’s probably very good. He’s also basically the main character of Le Morte D’Arthur which I might as well talk about here uhm. It’s long and fun in places and boring in others but it does have like the version most modern adaptations take from and tells the whole story of Arthur and Camelot from beginning to end. The Keith Baines version scanned by val is the most readable but it is an abridgement I believe. people who like le morte usually read this version so its probably the best choice lol

If you want to read about Gawain, good news! He’s in basically everything. Even texts that aren’t supposed to be about Gawain are doomed to become The Gawain Show Featuring The Protagonist Of This Text As A Sidekick. Which is so funny of him. The Roman Van Walewein is very funny and long and Gawain™. I also recommend, L’atre Perilous, Diu Krone, Sir Gawain and the Turk, and I could go on but for brevity's sake let's start there. 

If you want to read about Tristan, go shoot an ask to Valentine @lanzelet on tumblr because Tristan scares me. 

Thank you to rey @gawain-in-green for helping me find links and put this together! They are also a super great resource for stuff and very cool and nice <3 They have a tag on their blog for full text resources so deffo look at that if you want more scans and links, and an info tag and tons of cool shit that is way better organized than my blog lol

Okay finishing this off, if you want content warnings for any texts, feel free to shoot an ask! I know medieval lit can be A Lot and there aren’t a lot of good warning systems, so if I’ve read it or know someone who has I can give you warnings if you want to read something but are understandably wary . <3

In terms of tagging, Arthuriana and Arthurian Legend are the main ones on tumblr. Arthurian Mythology is also used but tbh shouldn’t be. On Ao3, we’re trying to get our own Arthurian Literature tag but <3 its a whole thing. Anyway the tag is Arthurian Mythology, but I’ll b real, it’s kind of flooded with stuff that doesn’t really belong there, because even though it’s a fandom tag other people unknowingly tag stuff as Arthurian Mythology when it’s like, a knight au. Which is not their fault bc it’s confusing but, ah, alas. ANyhow, feel free to drop in my inbox anytime with questions, suggestions, reccs, etc!

Okay godspeed!! Have fun reading, watching, browsing, etc! 

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian literature #arthurian mythology #:/

[gh0stfacesho3]

Transfer of Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Gender Non-Specific Reader

Word Count: +3.5k 

Warning: Fluff, mild angst. Professor x Student (College Au, all characters are +18), language, mention of abuse, mention of alcohol. 

Summary: As a Professor in the states, you were used to transfer students. You weren’t exactly ready for this new transfer student who is the son of the owner of Mike Sneakers (we don’t do free sponsors here ) 

   You were especially used to transfer students because you had a doctorate in linguistics. Being this, you knew a plethora of languages, from English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, Greek, Latin, and a few native languages. You were always fascinated by languages and how people came up with these mixes of characters and words to make beautiful phrases. Since you were a kid you started to learn other languages. You had a French neighbor in your old hometown which is where you picked it up at age 7. Then, when you were 10, your family took a trip to Mexico which is when you became interested by Spanish. You fully understood the language by age 11 due to your prior knowledge of French. Then this process just continued where you would just learn languages mainly for fun. This lead to you being a linguistics professor who also taught second languages and would take in quite a few transfer kids. This lead to the journey of Jeon Jungkook and it was definitely a wild one. 

   You walked into your office at about 9:00 and placed your laptop onto the desk. You straighten up your outfit before settling in and getting to work. As you looked through your emails, you noticed an email that was about another transfer student. You kind of glanced over it, but didn’t pay too much mind to it, assuming it was just another kid from out of country. As 10:00 started to roll around, your students walked in. Some smiled, others chugged some unhealthy energy drink, some even chatted with you before finding their seats. As everyone found their seats, you looked out to see a new student. 

“You, new kid, come up front and do that cringe introduction.” You chuckle, emitting a chuckle from a few kids. He tilts his head in confusion, probably because he doesn’t speak English. Due to your gesture though, he assumes you want him to introduce himself. 

“You don’t already know who I am?” He whispered loud enough for you to hear in his first language. 

“Actually, no, I don’t.” You responded quickly as you clasped your hands before beckoning him to the front again. He was a little shocked that you spoke Korean so well, being he had no prior information on you. You were used to kids who thought they were all that but something about this kid who was ‘dressed to impress’ rubbed you the wrong way. He walks down to the front and rolls his eyes at you. 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook...23. Korean” He said in English the best he could. You smiled and introduced yourself. 

“I’m Professor Y/L/N, find your seat now.” You responded before turning to the large chalk board and continuing your lesson. After the two hour lecture, you dismissed class. Jungkook was asleep in the back, which made you walk up to him and nudge him. 

“Its lunch time, go eat.” You say as he wakes up. He shrugged off your hand before collecting his things. 

“Filthy commoner.” He mumbled as he shoved past you. You would’ve been insulted if it were true, but it wasn’t. You collect your things and head out to your favorite cafe. Being it was a Tuesday, that class was the only one you had for the day so you treated yourself to some coffee. You notice a bit of commotion outside, but you try to ignore it and sneak inside. 

“Y/N Y/L/N!! IS IT TRUE YOU’RE TEACHING JEON JUNGKOOK?!” 

“Y/N?!?!”

“DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT JUNGKOOK?” 

You were confused by all the bombarding questions so you ran into the café and shut the door along with someone else. You turned to see the brat himself, Jeon Jungkook. 

“What mess have you fuckin brought me into?” You huffed as your back pressed against the door. 

“I didn’t do anything! I just went for a walk and got lost!” He huffed back at you. 

“Why are you so popular?” You asked as you held your hand on your forehead. 

“Ugh, you’re a horrible teacher if you can’t read a simple email. I’m the son of the owner of Mike tennis shoe company.” He responded. You rolled your eyes as stood up and walked in line, happy to see police shows up to wrangle up paparazzi. 

“What? Don’t care about my father’s company?” He mumbled. You go to order your drink and the barista looks confused. You realized you just ordered in Korean. You apologized before trying again. After you pay, Jungkook walks up and tried to get a drink. 

“C-coffee?” He basically asked, leaving the barista to ask a series of question. Jungkook looks over to you for help, making you chuckle. 

“Why should I help? You called me a shitty teacher.” You faked being offended which made Jungkook embarrassed. 

“I’ll pay for you.” He said, making you more than willing to help him. Being you already bought your drink, he just handed you a 20 like it was nothing. 

“That's way to much money Jungkook.” You said as you grabbed your coffee and went to hand him the money back. 

“It’s nothing to me and my father always says to help the less fortunate.” He said before drinking his coffee, which intern made you laugh. 

“You’re a brat but you’re a cool kid.” You say as you sit down and he follows. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he does the same back. 

“Who said you could sit with me?” Making him tilt his head. 

“Who said you got here first?” Jungkook barked back at you. You held your hands up in defense. 

“You’re going to have to get used to me being I will probably be your living translator...also whos your host family?” You waited for his response as you took a sip of your coffee. 

“I-...I’m not sure.”

“You didn’t check your email?” You teased like he did you which seemed to piss him off. 

“I can’t fuckin read English!” Which made you shocked. How could a school send this kid an email in a language he doesn’t know. You hold your hand out for his phone which he reluctantly gives to you. You mumble out the email before getting to the important part. 

“Your father has entrusted Professor Y/N with your care being they have the most experience with transfer students.” You were used to hosting kids but you thought someone of such class would be with, well you didn’t know, maybe someone the kid knew? 

“With you?” He almost sounded disgusted. You were actually upset that you didn’t read that email but you had a rough weekend. 

You sighed, “Look kid-”

“I’m not a kid!” He fussed. He was right. He said he was 23 and so were you. (Seems young for being a professor right, you’re just pretty smart and graduated early) 

“Okay, sorry. But look, you either live with me for the what, 3 months you’re gonna be here? Or ask your daddy for money to live in a hotel for 3 months.” You teased, making him sigh. 

“I’m not talking to him...that's why he sent me here.” Jungkook looked down at his now empty iced coffee. 

You stood up and patted his shoulder. “Then suck it up buttercup. Lets go get your shit and move you in.” 

“Want me to call an Uver?” The boy asked. (again, no free sponsors in this house).

“Nope. My car isn’t too far from here.” You smiled as you walked closer to the college campus. You turned before getting to campus and walked up to the car park. 

He pointed to an abandoned car that has been there for years, “Is that yours?” he teased. 

You smiled as you pulled out your key fob, clicking the unlock button to see a black lambo unlock. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and stared in awe. 

“Come on pretty boy, not scared are you?” You smiled as you hopped in. He scurried into the car with a wide smile. 

“Here I was thinking you were some poor teacher.” 

“I’m a professor first of all, second” you start the engine with a loud purr, “I have my perks.”  You smirked. 

Its been about a month since Jungkook has been moved in. One day y’all were sitting at the table, awkwardly eating dinner like you guys did every night when he got a phone call. You have never seen him smile since the first time he got in the car and besides that, he’s been a pain in your ass more than anything. Good thing is, he’s actually learned quite a bit of English and can order his food in public. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him fussing. 

“No Dad! Please you can’t make me stay here! I am studying and doing my work! This isn’t fair!” He argued, pacing back in forth before heading to his room which was a guest room. “YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP ME IN AMERICA BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO TAKE CARE OF ME. MY PROFESSOR ISN’T MY BABY SITTER, THEY HAVE THEIR OWN LIFE WHICH IS BETTER WITHOUT ME!....you were only right about one thing dad... I’m a bother to everyone around me.” Jungkook finished before in went quiet. You didn’t know what to say. He knew he was being difficult because he wanted to be. He wants you to be upset and kick him out so he can go home. He wants to be out of you hair. You walked to his room and knocked, and saw something you never saw you see. Tears. 

“W-what?!” He sniffled as he turned around and rubbed his eyes. You just walked up to him and turned him around, pulling him into a hug. He was reluctant at first before he finally gave in. 

“You’re a brat yes, but you’re not a bother. And if you’d stop distancing yourself, we might be able to make this extended time more enjoyable.” Was the only thing you could say. 

“I’m sorry I’m so mean to you...I just thought if maybe,”

“Maybe if I got annoyed enough I’d kick you out so you could go home?” He nodded to your question. 

“Welp, I’m a tough cookie to crack.” You smiled as you pulled away. 

“God we are the same age but you talk like a 80 year old.” He laughed as he wiped his face again. 

The two of you then go and talk about him and his life back at home. He explains how his grades are slipping and that is why he is forced to stay here longer. How he doesn’t like going to college because it’s not what he wants to do in life. Jungkook explained that he wanted to be a singer and even showed you a few songs he has covered and composed. They were really good in actuality. You agreed with him if he can get English down pat and pick his grades up, you’d help him peruse his career. 

-

It’s now been 3 months and Jungkook is basically speaking fluent English. He is also passing all your classes and is starting to open up to you a lot more. It was Spring break so you decided to go out with a few friends to get a drink. You invited Jungkook but he said he wanted to finish a paper he got an extension on so you just went out on your own. You and all your friends were dancing in the club and downing drinks like fish. You may have gotten a little too drunk being it was your first night out by yourself. Jungkook recently started to get more friends so you had some free time, but you haven’t gone out since he got here which is why you let yourself get as drunk as you did. It was towards the end of the night and the bouncer would not let you out with your keys due to how drunk you were. 

“Move you b-big bo-ouf...” You stumbled as you tried to squeeze past him. He grabbed your arm and pushed you back. You huffed before pulling out your phone and smashing keys in and calling whoever popped up. 

“Professor? Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, concerned as to why you called him after not responding to his text asking when you’d be home. 

“I-im dr-drunk and this fuckin cunt won’t let me out.” You whined as you still tried to squeeze past him. “Don’t-...Don’t fuckin touch me.”

“Look, I’ll get an Uver and come pick you up.” Jungkook said as he got his things and hung up on you. 

You looked at your silent phone with an angry expression,”...bitch” 

Jungkook came walking in and saw you sitting on the floor poking the bouncers leg. 

“Can you get this parasite off of me?” The large man asked looking down at me. 

Jungkook stoops down and helps you up. You stumble toward him before you turned to look at the bouncer and stick your tongue out. You also flipped him off before Jungkook grabbed your hand and brought you to the Uver. You sat by the window and he did the same. You two finally got to your house and he helped bring you up. You tore your arm away from him as you stumbled up the stairs. 

“I’m not a fuckin baby.” You grumbled as you immediately fell on the stairs. The male huffed as he helped you up. 

“Get OFF of ME Jackson!” You pushed him away as tears filled your eyes. “I’m not your fuckin victim anymore!” 

“Y/n?” Jungkook put his hands up and came to you slowly, “Its just me...Jungkook.” You finally started to calm down as you slowly tried to climb the stairs to your home. Jungkook helped you up and brought you to the couch. Jungkook grabbed a wet cloth and wiped the palms of your hand that were scrapped up. He then wiped your eyes and petted your head. 

After Jungkook helped you that night, there was this awkward air again. He felt like walking on eggshells around you. Who was Jackson and why did you say you weren’t his victim. Jungkook asked his classmates around campus and even a few teachers as best he could. He finally found a teacher who was willing to give him a small amount of information. 

“Now, I’m not going to say a lot because it isn’t my story to tell, but Jackson is Y/n’s ex....and let’s say he won’t be getting boyfriend of the year award.” Dr. Nick explained. Jungkook had enough information to make a firm decision. He was going to show you what a man should treat others like. He wasn’t your boyfriend or even considered you that much of a friend, but he felt guilty for living with you almost rent free (even though the school payed for his stay). 

Jungkook went to the store after he was done with classes and picked up a lot of food to make you dinner as payment for all the times you made him dinner. He bought you your favorite candy, or so he assumed because he’d always find the wrappers in the trash. He even bought you a gift card to the coffee shop you love and headed home. Being it was a Friday, he knew you would be home a little later. The more Jungkook thought about it, the more he realized he knew a lot more about you than he thought. Jungkook started to think about all the little things you did for him. How certain foods would pop up more after he mentioned them. How you would cook different meals just for his liking and make sure he had a decent environment to study in. How you would stay up late and call of work a few times just to help him study. Jungkook smiled as he started to mentally prepare himself for cooking. He also hoped he wouldn’t burn your house down because he had very little cooking experience. 

Jungkook starts cooking a dish he often enjoyed back at home: Spicy Ramen with rice cakes and kimbap. The button down shirt he wore to school was now slightly disheveled and stained. He rolled his sleeve up as he looked at the time-- 5 more minutes. Or so he thought when he heard your keys jingle at the door. He mildly panicked before setting up the food at the table and cleaning up quickly. He ran to the door as you finally started to open it and he stopped you.

“Huh?” You asked looking at his slightly sweaty face. “Jungkook if you’re having sex-” 

“AH No no no!! But I have to ask for you to stand out here for 5 more minutes...trust me.” You don’t know why but you did trust him, and so you stood there for 5 whole minutes. You thought about all the possibilities you could walk into: A girl or a guy running out half naked, your house destroyed, drugs...etc.  Jungkook came back looking a lot more put together and opened the door. You were hit with a mix of smells and were shocked. 

“J-jungkook, did you ? You didn’t- no you can’t cook can you?” You asked as you walked in and admired the kitchen. 

“I noticed you’ve been working more and I felt bad for staying here, even longer than expected... So I wanted to show you that I can be a proper man and treat another human being with respect.” 

“I don’t care the reason as long as it taste good...and it looks amazing Jeon.” You quickly wash your hands and sit down ready to eat. Jungkook sat closer to you which you didn’t think much about being the ramen was in a big shared pot. You start digging in but you try to avoid the kimbap. You didn’t know if it had seafood and you didn’t want to take a chance. Jungkook picked up a piece and brought it up to your mouth. 

“Made without seafood.” He smiled before you opened your mouth and took a bite. You smiled as you continued to eat. Jungkook ate as well before making the perfect bite. You even noticed it and tried to follow what he did, but before you could, he offered it to you. You were about to take in the food before you paused. 

“Where is all this coming from?” You asked before taking the bite You smiled and almost forgot you asked a question until he cleared his throat. 

“Well, like I said I felt bad for staying here and being a brat...I also wanted to give you a taste of my culture since you’ve welcomed me into yours.” He explained with a small blush and a smile. 

“Yeah I get that, but what's with that stuff?” You asked pointing to the flower bouquet lined with your favorite candies and snacks. 

“Oh...well the same reason.” He smiled. You were suspicious but you decided to finish eating. You heart was really warmed but he wasn’t that much of a brat. Yeah it was inconvenient on occasion, but he’s helped you a lot. He helps with chores and keeps his area clean, he is good company since you’re always alone, and well...he’s a pretty boy to keep around. Not to mention he saved you from that club when you were piss ass drunk. The two of y’all were cleaning up and things were going good...until Jungkook said the forbidden name. 

“Y/n...who is Jackson?” You almost drop the plate you were cleaning. 

“I fuckin knew you were up to something...Did you go through my room?! My fucking personal life?!” You started to fuss but by the look on his face, he didn’t. 

“When you were drunk, you called me Jackson and said ‘I’m not your victim anymore’...” He paused, looking down before looking back at you, “he hurt you didn’t he?” 

You stared at the wall, looking for the right words to say. “Yeah...he did. And I’m sorry I did that that night...but I’m not a baby. I don’t need your sympathy or your fuckin pandering.” You huffed as you started to leave the kitchen but he grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m not doing this to make up for him,...Nothing I can do can heal those scars. But I’m doing it to make up for me and my actions. And its my way of showing-....” Jungkook trailed off. 

“Showing what?” You said looking down at his hand holding your wrist. 

“It’s how I show affection to people I care about.” Jungkook said the words without really thinking. You were taken aback and pulled away from him. 

“Jungkook...I-” You started before he cut you off. 

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not the first kid to say this am I? And you tell them all the same thing. ‘We can’t be together because I risk losing my job’ and all that...I know.” He said looking down at his feet. You were shocked he even had feelings for you. He was completely wrong because since Jackson, you kept these walls up and didn’t let anyone like you. You normally noticed when people would catch feelings and immediately turn them away...but this was different. You hadn’t realized he liked you because you were to busy pushing yourself away from him. You noticed you liked his presence more which is why you stayed later at work, to push yourself away. 

“Jungkook, that’s not it. I actually really care about you too. But there is the case with work that I don’t know if I can get passed...but I do appreciate this. And I appreciate you so much, but after Jackson...” You trailed off. 

“You don’t know if you’re ready and I understand that...but out of all the people I’ve met, your the one person I wouldn’t mind waiting for.” Jungkook admitted. He didn’t realize how strong he felt about you until he was in this moment. You also didn’t realize how strong you felt until you realized you moved closer to him. You always had your guard up around people, but you realized you were more venerable with Jungkook than with anyone else. You peered up at him to see his eyes were red from holding back his tears. 

You chuckled softly, “You’re such a baby.” You teased making him laugh before nudging you. 

“Yeah well this baby just cooked your dinner so whose baby now?” He retorted. 

“There’s that smile...”You mumbled, smiling as you two just stood there looking at each other. Jungkook’s eyes darted down to your lips before saying fuck it. He leaned in and held your cheeks in his hand. You felt this weird tension finally dissipate. You leaned in closer and placed your hands on top of his. 

“If you think about it, I graduate this year in a few months...so if we wait it out, you won’t have to worry about your job.” Jungkook reasoned as he pulled away. 

“That is true...even if you weren’t, I can always find another job.” You smiled, kissing him again. 

A/n: Sorry if this is a little rough, but I have been on a hiatus for about a year now. Writing is something I love doing but I’ve been so busy with school and have had so little motivation. I really wrote this whole thing within 2 days and I’m proud of myself. If you really liked it, hit that like and share button! If this gets enough love, I might open request again. 

#bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x gender neutral reader #fluff #angst #bangtan #bt21 #self insert #bts x reader #bts x male reader #bts x female reader #bts x gender neutral reader

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Daenerys and Jon | Venus and Mars

Venus, the goddess of: Love. Fertility. Prosperity. Victory. Desire. Beauty.

Epithets: The Mother. The Victorious. The Freedwoman. The Lucky. The Purifier. The Changer of Hearts.

Venusian deities include: Aphrodite, Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, Astoreth, Asherah

In ancient Babylonia, Venus was known as the ‘divine lady’ and the ‘illumination of heaven’. As the evening star, Venus appears after sunset in the night sky, disappearing for several days before re-emerging as a morning star on the sun's opposite side. The unique path of Venus through the sky has given rise to many prominent myths spanning cultures throughout history. The morning aspect of Venus was designated ‘Lucifer’* by the ancient Romans, literally translating to 'Light-Bringer', a figure presented in poetry as the herald of dawn. Venus has associations with sweet-smelling flowers such as roses and myrtle. The circle-and-cross symbol for Venus, like the Ankh, may represent life or sexual reproduction, and denotes the female sex.

*While the latin word for morning star, Lucifer, has since been applied to the allegorical fall of Satan, it's important to note that another allegorical Venusian figure, Jesus Christ, is also referred to as ‘the bright morning star’ and ‘tu verus mundi lucifer’, or, ‘the true light-bringer of the world’.

Mars, the god of: War. Spring. Virility. Valor. Fertility. Agriculture.

Epithets: The Father. The Protector. The Avenger. The Venerable. The Healer. The Peacekeeper.

Martian deities include: Ares, Nergal, Laran, Maris, Lenus, Mangala

In ancient Mesopotamia, Mars was seen as a ‘star of judgment’ and the ‘fate of the dead’. In Roman art and literature, the wolf appears as a sacred animal or symbol of Mars. In one depiction of Mars on the Altar of Peace, he can be seen alongside a wolf, holding a spear wreathed with a garland of laurel, symbolizing peace gained through martial victory. Often, Mars is depicted as nude, representing his fearlessness in battle. Similar to Venus, Mars takes a notable retrograde path through the night sky—appearing to move backward and further east each night before continuing west. The symbol of Mars depicts a sword and shield, used to denote the male sex, as well as the element of iron.

(Venus and Mars by Geraldine Arata)

While Venus represents the watery female essence, and her male counterpart, Mars, represents the fiery male essence, attributes of both deities can be found in Daenerys and Jon alike—from the warlike aspects of Mars to the path Venus takes through the sky and its association with ‘lightbringing’.

The journey that Daenerys takes seems to correspond with the planet's movements through the heavens:

“To go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east. To go forward you must go back and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

Venus rises first in the summer sky as the evening star, plunging into the darkness during winter to rise again on the sun’s opposite side as the morning star to herald the sun.

Jon is, likewise, experiencing the path of the planet Venus in an allegorical sense—descending to the underworld only to rise again through resurrection.

Similarly, when it comes to Azor Ahai, we see Daenerys filling the prophecy literally:

“When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.”

In Jon's case, he fits the prophecy figuratively:

After his first two swords shatter (Rhaenys and Aegon), Azor Ahai (Rhaegar) plunges his sword (phallus) into a willing (consenting) Nissa Nissa (Lyanna), whose cries of anguish and ecstasy crack the moon (her womb). Her blood, soul, strength, and courage went into the steel (her baby), and thereafter, Lightbringer (Jon) was never cold to the touch, but warm as Nissa Nissa (his mother) had been warm.

Jon even describes himself as a sword:

     I am the sword in the darkness

And while it is still mere speculation that his true name is also Aegon Targaryen in the books (though there are arguments to be made), bearing such a name would give him further association to Mars and his shield:

Aegis is a device carried by Athena and Zeus, depicted as an animal skin or shield

Targe means shield in late Old English

Aryan borrowed from the Sanskrit word ā́rya/ari- meaning attached, faithful, devoted kinsman

     The shield that guards the realms of men

As for Daenerys, her name might literally translate to ‘light lady’ or ‘lady of light’:

Dae (alternate spelling of 'day’), of American origin, means ‘light and hope’

Nerys means ‘lady’ in Old Welsh

     I am the light that brings the dawn

According to director Alan Taylor, George R.R. Martin confirmed during the filming of season one of Game of Thrones, that:

“It really is all about Dany and Jon.”

But just as both characters encompass the role of Lightbringer, Daenerys and Jon, together, represent the complementary opposites of Venus and Mars: Love and war. Water (ice) and fire. Female and male.​

Born of Venus (Aphrodite) and Mars (Ares):

Concordia (Harmonia), who represents social, marital, and political agreement.

Twins Formido (Deimos) and Pavor (Phobos), who represent dread in the midst of battle and the personification of the fear brought by war, respectively.

Cupid (Eros), who represents desire, love, attraction and affection.

Thus, the union of Venus and Mars:

Inspires fear and dread in battle

Creates ideal social concord

Begets love

A Dream of Spring

“People know an ending—but not the ending.” —George R.R. Martin

Spring marks the end of winter. It is associated with renewal, rebirth, rejuvenation, regrowth, and resurrection. March, the month in which spring arrives in the Northern Hemisphere, was named for the Roman god Mars, the god of Spring. The second month of spring, April, or Aphrilis, was sacred to the goddess Venus—its name perhaps derrived from equivalent Greek goddess Aphrodite.

Venus, as the ‘light-bringer’ appears most brightly in the December sky, signalling a phase of rebirth, where winter comes to an end, or spring. To the ancient Greeks, the planet Venus was known as Phosphorus, or ‘bringer of light’. The morning star also went by another name, Heosphorus, meaning ‘dawn-bringer’.

Dawn is described as:

"The first appearance of daylight in the morning; daybreak; sunrise”

However, dawn has another definition that might suggest further positive connotations:

“The beginning or rise of anything; advent: the dawn of civilization"

Art commissioned by @dragonanddirewolf​​

“It was only when a great warrior arose with his blazing sword Lightbringer that the darkness was put to rout, and light and love returned once more to the world.“

#jonerys #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #asoiaf theories #jonerys meta #jonerys fanart #jon x daenerys #my theories #inspiration taken from: #kat henry #lucifer means lightbringer

[heroes-of-olympus-next-gen]

Next Chapter

This fic might be one of my favourite pieces of writing. (I say that a LOT, ik but cope with me).It's the day Nico and Will drop Bianca in her dorm in Harvard.

Bianca stared at her childhood room. Yes, that was what she was calling it from that point forward. Her new room would be a small dorm in Harvard that she would share with a girl named Alisson Thompson, a pre-med student. The summer went by so fast that she didn’t even realise that their time was running out. None of them did. Everything after graduation was a blur.

“Are you packed?” Nico asked her, standing behind her. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought that Bianca was moving to another state four hours away from them. He was always sure that Bianca was meant for great things, but letting her go was tough.

“Hm?” She was too distracted to pay attention to what was happening around her. She was leaving her home. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“Have you packed everything?” He repeated.

“Yes, I’m ready.” She said. She had managed to fit all the stuff she would take with her in three suitcases, a couple boxes, a backpack, and her violin case. “Dad is putting my stuff in the car right now.”

Nico never had his parents drive him to university. It was one of the moments that he cherished the most as a parent. He remembered the Harvard onesie Kayla had bought to Bianca when she was born. And now she was actually going there. “We’re very proud of you. We would have been proud of you in whatever school you would go to, but you got into your dream school.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Bianca confessed. “Any part of it.” The two of them hugged.

“That’s all you. All I did was read you the Iliad when you were a baby.” Nico joked. The first few months after Bianca was born and couldn’t sleep at night except if they reading to her all night. Nico had taken a more literary perspective and read Bianca classic Literature in English, Italian, Latin, and Ancient Greek.

She started laughing. “I am going to miss you. Is it too late to ditch Harvard and go to New Athens University?” Of course, she didn’t mean it, but a tiny part inside of her wanted to stay in her bedroom and never move out of her childhood house.

“I think so. You’ll have to go to poor old Harvard now. How about we go downstairs.” Nico told her and left the room.

Bianca picked up Albus from underneath her bed. He had understood that Bianca was going to leave which made him a little mellow as well. He was Bianca’s dog since she was 2-years-old. Another person she had to say goodbye to. She took him in her arms, closed both the light and the door behind her.

As soon as Albus saw the backyard, Bianca left him free to run. Charlie was waiting for her. “Hey.” She kissed him, not caring that her whole family was a room away from them. She didn’t know when or if she was going to see Charlie before Thanksgiving, and three months was a long time to be away from him. She was going to take advantage of every moment she had with him. When they stopped kissing she sighed. “I am going to miss you.” Their fingers intertwined.

“Me too. But it’s just a two hours’ drive from Yale. If you ever need anything I’ll come by.” Charlie told her.

“My roommate is going to be thrilled.” Bianca kissed him again.

“High PDA alert,” Zoe said as she walked inside. She was moving to MIT the next week, which meant that she would be a whole week away from Bianca. Still, better than a whole semester. “Sorry, wrong timing. Continue kissing.”

“Shut up and hug me. I’m trying really hard not to start crying.”

Zoe hugged her. “We’ll have movie nights every Friday. I’ll sneak in your dorms.”

“What would I do without the two of you?” Bianca put her hands around Charlie’s neck. “I love you.” She whispered to her boyfriend.

“I love you more.” Charlie smiled.

“Go, I don’t want you to see me leave. It will be like when Meredith watched Cristina leave. And I don’t need that kind of emotion” Bianca told them.

“Call me whenever you want.” Charlie kissed her on the cheek.

Zoe gave her a final hug. “See you next week, partner.”

Bianca stepped outside. The car was loaded up with her stuff. “We’re ready whenever you’re,” Will told her.

Jasmine hugged her sister. “I’m going to miss you.”

Bianca held her tight. “You can take anything from my stuff, and we can pretend that you never touched everything. You’re the master of the house now that I’ll be gone.” She whispered in her ear. “Come here. We aren’t that uncool.” She motioned to Ryder.

“It’s not going to be the same without you around.” He confessed. He was the tallest of the three.

“Aww, you’re going to miss me.”

“I never said something like that.” Ryder declared.

“I’m ready to go,” Bianca said and let go of her siblings.

“We’ll see you tonight,” Will told them as the three of them got in the car. The drive to Boston was 4 hours long which gave them the chance to also do a pit stop at Starbucks before leaving the state.

They spent most of the day unpacking Bianca’s stuff. Her roommate would come the next day which would give Bianca enough time to fix her mess. From their messages, Alisson sounded like a very nice person, and they had a lot of stuff in common. Before Will and Nico left they took Bianca out to eat dinner together.

“That’s it,” Bianca said as they drove her back to the campus. She had left her car in New York on purpose so that she could find a good excuse to go back home for a weekend.

“Whatever and whenever you need anything call us,” Nico told her.

Bianca hugged them both. “Thank you for everything.” She knew that if she started crying saying goodbye would be even harder.

“Thanks for being the most amazing daughter we could have asked for.”

“Bye,” Bianca said softly. They kissed her goodbye and then left.

As soon as they drove away from Harvard they both started crying. Under no circumstances they would have let Bianca see them crying on the day that they would leave her at school.

Bianca went to the common room where she met some of the people who were staying with her. She talked a lot with Izzie Montgomery, an economics major with an unhealthy obsession with romanticism era literature. Sometime after 12 she went back to her room and facetimed both Colin, Zoe and Charlie.

She put on her favourite sweater and reached to her backpack for her book. She got under the covers and opened the first page of the Iliad. It must have been the millionth time that she read that book. The binding was barely keeping the pages together. But it was a little piece that reminded her of home. She held the book close to her chest and maybe a few tears were shed. She finally closed the lights and fell asleep.

The next chapter of her life had just begun.

#bianca solace di angelo #solangelo babies #nico di angelo #nico di angelo fanfic #heroes of olympus next gen #nico di angelo headcanon #pjo next gen #solangelo family #solangelo textpost #solangelo oneshot #solangelo fanfic #solangelo headcanon #will solace fanfiction #will solace fanfic #will solace headcanon #solangelo #will solace #toa headcanons #hoo headcanon #pjo headcanon #he deserves it #hoo #charlie jackson #percy jackson headcannons #pjo #percabeth #percababies #solangelo children #toa #percy jackson