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writefightandflightclub · 2 months

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"ride or die is so special to me" ch.6 edition!!!

(Sorry this is so late work was just way busier than normal this past week!!)

Okay so right off the bat, "Santiago watches you go. Feels the violence of you being snatched from his side like a wound" why would you do that to us??? Probably bc it's beautifully written and a perfect start to this chapter but STILL. I felt personally ATTACKED by this opening. Also the callback to ch.3 which says "Santiago is a wound you could never close" 😭 babe you know I am rooting for these two but they keep hurting me AND EACH OTHER.

Is all the boys except Tom showing up foreshadowing Tom's fate in the movie?? 👀 also I like the detail that Benny is the one to follow her while Will is sort of the guard/the wall keeping the two of them apart while Frankie goes with Santi. Without having to talk about it, the squad falls into roles, you can feel their history as a team in the way they moved into, and through, this conflict. Hoping our girl and Benny don't do anything stupid (I can't remember which chapter it is so maybe I hallucinated it or something, but wasn't there a comment at some point about Benny having a soft spot for her or along those lines? I'd like to believe neither of them would be so stupid and short-sighted though).

The IRONY of Santi's fear of hurting her being the exact thing that ends up hurting her? BIG OUCH. Another ginormous ouch was this "Until Santiago feels only jitters through his weak legs. Until he feels a pit open up inside and swallow him. Until he can carry himself no further away from you. Until he realises that no matter how far he walks he cannot run from himself" LIKE THAT LAST LINE IS SO HAUNTINGLY POIGNANT!!!

Now for what might just be my favourite aspect of this chapter: Frankie being an absolute KING. "Don't talk just walk" is something I have to tell myself when I'm upset, and Frankie telling Santi that was so great!! "Don’t patronise her by thinking you know better" THANK YOU THIS IS KING SHIT FRANKIE KEEP IT UP BABY. Kudos to you balancing how messed up their military history and trauma has made each of them from Santi's perspective and how moving on is worth it from Frankie's - it makes the conflict believable and layered and interesting. The way Frankie is uniquely equipped to get through to Santiago and get him to admit what he is afraid of, what underlies all these tensions, was GORGEOUSLY explored.

However that ending??? NOOOO SANTIAGO NOOOOOO YOU LITERALLY JUST WENT THROUGH THIS WITH FRANKIE DO NOT FALL INTO THAT MENTAL TRAP AGAIN!!! I want him to do copious amounts of therapy!!!!

Can't believe how you just come up with all this stuff and write it so well? This chapter really went straight to my heart like this is the kind of shit I want injected directly into my veins it is so good!!!

Special to me anon!!! 😀🧡 Heyyyy!

Ooh thank you for this delicious commentary. And PLEASE never apologise for bestowing such a wonderful gift upon me. I would wait years. 😁

Btw, I hope that work isn’t being too unkind to you. You got this! 🧡

Okay. So. First of all I love it that you noticed that callback, with the wound imagery etc. ☺️🧡

And ooh, well we’ll have to wait and see if Tom’s absence is foreshadowing anything in this tale 👀 … but that’s such a stellar observation! Oh and I’m so pleased the way they all reacted gave hints at how they work as a unit. That it’s well-trodden. I wanted all of the relationships to feel plausible and unique but also that sense of them as a team to be present. The fact they can *mobilise*. I feel they would have roles and patterns without needing to speak about it and I did feel this is how it would go down. Oh my gosh, thank you for remembering that detail about Benny too! I did indeed suggest he has a soft spot for reader, and so I think it’s apt he’s the one to follow 🥹

And the ouches? Oof. I know, I know. Santiago really doesn’t want to hurt her. He honestly would rather suffer himself than do that. And yet… somehow they are BOTH hurting. But, he’s an expert at creating / worsening problems for himself (no shade, he’s got a lot to work through in that pretty head of his and breaking cycles is not easy). I feel like this whole scene with Frankie was so vital actually.

Also. Yes. Frankie = king. 👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑 No notes. 😁 I’m so pleased the conflict there was believable, and that their different perspectives / beliefs came through. I think one reason why it’s so hard for Santi is that when he tugs on the reader thread to try and unravel it, it’s tied on to this big ball of all his other traumas: military, grief, and more, and so it feels far too big. I do feel like Frankie is “uniquely equipped” it get through to him - love that phrasing. Sometimes when people are in it or too close to it they just need someone else to help them shift their angle of view. Even a small nudge. Frankie knows them BOTH so well and loves them, and I feel like even with everything he has going on himself he’s just slightly less jaded. He’s looking ahead to his new baby, wanting to get back on track, you know? Also, importantly, he’s TIRED. Like. Just sort it out, man.

And ahhhh the ending!!!!!!! 😱😱😱😱 I think this goes back to patterns being hard to break. I think it’s clear this one isn’t going to be solved by any one *single* moment or epiphany. That, *if* they can make it work, it’s gonna take some work. Let’s see! 🤭

Once again thank you for indulging me and letting me ramble about this story! I’m so grateful! 🧡🧡🧡

#special to me anon is special to me #ride or die series #santiago pope garcia x reader #Oscar Isaac

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bonesandthebees · 7 months

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Anyway, let me throw out some more things I liked about this chapter of Glass. I did 1 already so

2. Wilbur getting the tattoo, in general everything about it. But also the way it’s balanced against the present to make us wonder if he actually got it, and if so, where? Also, the constant fear of where or not it would get found.

3. Wilbur’s ‘escape’ is very well thought out and set up. Jumping out of a car is something they can do and have video evidence off without putting anyone in danger and it’s just plausible enough to work.

4. SCHLATT 10/10 I hate his ass. I hope Wilbur gets to give him a piece of his mind before they kill him off. “My Pythia” can I hit him? Can I please? There was no need to come for our throats like this. Not to mention him being generally more concerned about how to find the Deathlings than happy that his Pythia is back. Like he clearly does not give a shit (because he never listened anyway). But now he does realise the Deathlings are a threat (unlike at the ball) and he wants them gone.

5. That one priest(ess?) the tension of Wilbur needing to get to his room as fast as possible + not wanting to get checked out because then the tattoo will be found. The dehuminasation. What the hell! “I shall pray for the Vessel” you did not have to slap me in the face like that. I literally sat there staring at my screen for a full 30 seconds. What the fuck.

6. I love Wilbur immediately going to find the most normal, comfortable clothes he can find. He’s been introduced to nice sweaters and he’s never letting go. More importantly: he leaves the blindfold he had and cashes in on a bunch of other blindfolds. I’m sure there’s a methaphore in there somewhere. He leaves the blindfold that gave him and Tommy away, the one he took of to curse Tommy. The one that’s been with him all this time. And he grabs a bunch of new ones. He’s starting over. But more importantly. He’s going to stay with the Deathlings, that’s his plan. He’s still scared of the curse. Still believes in it. But he’s taking those blindfolds with him and leaving every other part of the Pythia behind.

7. Again we’ll thought out plan. Hide stuff in the shoes. It’s believable. And one is to let Tubbo hack in. The other is to help cause a distraction. And of course Tommy comes straight for Wilbur. Of course he comes and gets him himself. That’s literally his only priority. Get Wilbur back safely. And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the Wholesome Uber conversation and calling each other brothers is setting us up for heartbreak. Those boys are getting traumatised.

Speaking of which 8. The brother’s conversation in the flashback. I almost forgot about that one (I’m doing this all from the top of my head, so you can tell how much my writing lives in there rent free). They did actually claim each other as brothers. Oh I’m gonna have to reread that scene now.

And then there’s 9. The tattoo, Tommy’s one in this case. Which is more consequences kinda. Or lack thereof. Is a physical remind that Wilbur tried to kill Tommy. It shows how far they’ve grown. It’s permanent and can never be undone. It’s forgiving things that shouldn’t be forgiven because that’s how Tommy is (which now that I think about it, is also why he doesn’t get that Jack’s still mad at him, because Too y would probably have forgiven him if it was the other way around even though he shouldn’t).

That concludes my ramble. I kinda hope we get a Wilbur-Schlatt conversation. Wilbur screaming that his name is Wilbur at someone. And if Eret betrays them because they don’t want to let go of the advantage of having a Pythia (looking at [redacted] with the steel chair) I will scream. Same with Niki or Jack trying to kill Tommy as revenge. I will scream. I will stop reading to come scream at you Bee. I swear I will. Anyway, have fun laughing at me when you read this, I’ll go try and be productive now.

-🌲

yesss that was one of the reasons I really wanted to do the past/present flipping because I wanted to open up the question in the readers minds of 'did he actually get the tattoo?' so we can get that buildup to the moment when it happens for real

lol thank you ngl I knew the deathlings were going to fake an escape with wilbur but I didn't actually decide what that fake escape was going to be until i literally wrote that chapter and I was like yeah ok this makes sense

I have so much fun writing glass!schlatt he's such a bastard. the "my pythia" line was soooo bone chilling

the priest (I decided all acolytes of clara are just called priests regardless of gender, idk why) interaction was one i barely had planned and I really love how it turned out. she genuinely means well but she's so embedded in the pythian institution that she doesn't really how fucked up what she's saying is. and up until recently, wilbur didn't realize that either. now that he's grown to understand how fucked all that stuff is it hurts so much worse to hear things like that.

wilbur never even liked the super fancy clothes to begin with but now that he's been introduced to comfy sweaters and jeans and sweatpants he never wants to go back. and yeah for one thing I wanted him to finally replace that old worn out blindfold he's been wearing for months on end, but also him grabbing several does show his intent. he's not planning on coming back to the palace. he wants to stay with the deathlings and has already made that choice. he leaves behind the more opulent blindfold. the one that he was wearing at the ball, dressed up with all the frills and glamour of the pythian institution, and replaces it with a simpler one. it's still not exactly reflective of who he is, but it's closer.

very glad the whole hiding stuff in his shoes bit was believable i was trying sooo hard to make the whole thing feel like a realistic plan that could work and wasn't just a "don't think about it too hard" kind of thing.

of course tommy was going to be the one to get him. who else would it be? it's always been tommy. he's the one who got wilbur out of the palace the first time, and he's going to get him out of the palace again. so glad you enjoyed the uber conversation :) definitely nothing bad will happen from here :))

they claimed each other as brothers finally!! wilbur finally has family for the first time in his whole life <3

yuppp I knew from the start tommy was going to get a tattoo of wilbur's murder attempt. even though it's been forgiven, even though it shouldn't have been forgiven so easily, it can't be forgotten. it's there forever inked on tommy's skin. a reminder of who wilbur used to be. a reminder of what his desperate devotion to clara drove him to.

:) I think you're going to like the next chapter spruce

#ask #spruce anon #glass ch 26

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inlocusmads · 2 years

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Quintessential Thorne-Rose

Two crime-solving fools get drunk, make irresponsible decisions, crack all the wrong jokes and talk about things that don't make sense in the slightest.

Featuring: Trystan Thorne, Nora Rose from Crimes of Passion

Word Count: 1.2k | No Warnings/General

Based on this prompt: "Objection!" “Objection? You cannot scream objection in a private argument."

A/N: Dedicated to the lovely @aallotarenunelma, who sent me the above prompt, saying it reminded them of Nora and Trystan and I just had to write it down! Thank you so much, dear friend!

>> Listen To You Never Can Tell by Chuck Berry for the ultimate experience.

“You know? I’ve just realised a fascinating thing.”

“Enlightening. What is it?”

“If there were no murders, no cheating spouses, no despicable people in the world — I am out of a job.”

Trystan took a sip of his mysterious green beverage before setting it down. His vision was blurry, but he blamed it on exhaustion rather than the feverish alcohol consumption. Nora wasn’t doing so great either, but she seemed to have had the best time of her life. After several minutes of discourse on the stupid engineering behind steel cabinets, the sharing of several shower thoughts and children’s books she’d read growing up, it was almost as if she had finally found an outlet to unload her brain onto.

That outlet being Trystan’s poor ears. But fortunately, he was just as tipsy as her. Even worse, actually.

“Truth or Dare.”

“Hmm?” Nora hummed. “You want to play? Never knew you wanted to. Didn’t we play that -- friendly game with those wonderful people with the -- Morrigan masks? Oh they were simply fantastic. Especially that -- erm-- author fellow. And the -- woman in the pinstripe suit. Lovely people.”

“I might have -- a bit of a celebrity crush -- is that what you call them these days, I think that’s exactly what you call them -- on Freddie Mercury. And he’s dead! How on earth do you have a -- certain likeness- ishhhh towards dead people?”

“Freddie Mercury isn’t dead. He’s an urban legend. Doesn’t exist. You know, sort of like the Abominable Snowman or-- er-- those Nokia phones, for instance.” Nora speculated out loud. “My turn. I liked those Barbie things. Still do. They have this sense of humour to them.”

“That’s not very much of an appalling Truth.”

Nora sipped a bit of her drink. “Well, what’s the Truth?”

“You might not be--” Trystan guessed, completely changing the rules of the game halfway through their conversation. “You might not actually be -- human.”

“So I’m not human. That narrows down my identity considerably to archangels and dragons.”

“Those are the -- three groups of people then? Humans, archangels and dragons?”

“It is plausible. Where does fire come from? Dragons. What about the rain? The sun? The universe? Archangels. Mix them up with human innovation, like cars, cities, clothes, books, plastic--”

“I’ve never thought about --”

“-- bridges, hospitals, detective agencies, murders, buildings, furniture, planes, bicycles--”

“-- it like that.”

“-- mobile phones, music, Walkmans, Barbies, ABBA, steel, wood, iron and --”

“Queen.” Trystan prompted.

“Queen, yes.” Nora agreed.

There was a pause where they looked at each other, paused once more to exchange a smile. Nora slouched over the coffee table with the drinks on, as Trystan leaned forward as well.

“We should do something. With all this -- time.” Nora poured herself another drink. “You said so yourself. If I’m not human, nothing kills me. And what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger. Just me, myself and I. Stand a little taller, doesn’t mean I’m lonely and--”

“If nothing kills you, you should walk into a pit of fire and come out unscathed.”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you a fighter.. Fighter. Fighter pilots!”

“I’ve always wanted to be one! Just--” Trystan grabbed onto some invisible joysticks in the air and tried flying quite literally, an “air”plane. Nora let out a little huff, before it escalated into polite chuckling and subsequently a full-blown uproarious laughter.

“Wasn’t he a fighter pilot?” Trystan offered. “He always knew how to dodge things. Like as if he were some master pilot aboard a Spitfire, putting down German --air-floating-things during World War 2. That would be plausible, but unfortunately he’s quite young. Not dead yet. Unlike Freddie Mercury, who’s deader than the next dead man to walk through that door.” - he pointed at the entryway.

“Who?” Nora asked.

“That man. That -- blacksmith man we chased around. What’s his name? Tim? Timothy? Timson? Tomson? Thomas?”

“Oh-- we should do that!”

“Blacksmithing? Fighter-pilot’ing?”

“Solving crimes. We’ve never done that before.”

“Of course not. I’m me. And you’re you.”

“You can’t sell yourself short. You’ve got your--- things--” Nora rotated her wrist about, “A good life. A good brain. All good things. That’s all you need anyway to live. Fifty more years of good brains, good things and then, you die. It’s practical.”

“Death. Don’t talk to me about death.”

“Bit grim?”

“Bit grim, yeah.”

“So -- sunshine. What do you like about sunshine?”

“Very -- sunshiney.” he broke into fits of laughter. “Hold on-- objection!”

“Objection? You cannot scream objection in a private argument. It’s bad behaviour.”

“Are we arguing?” Trystan asked, genuinely perplexed.

“No, but you mentioned-- something odd about death--” Nora poured herself another drink from the mysterious bottle marked “X”, like in those old 80s cartoons. “And that must mean we’re arguing. In battle. In history, they’ve got those things, right? Old monarchs. They have those rituals where -- if you do something, sign anything or scream something, you’re automatically at war with each other. A state of emergency, panic and all that.”

“No-- no. I meant something else. Objection. The word. It has all the vowels in it. O, I, E.”

“That can’t be right.” Nora grabbed a piece of paper and a handy pencil she had on the ready. In bright bold, yet squiggly handwriting, she wrote the letters: OAEBJUECKTION on it. She gazed at her own handiwork, marvelled and in a deep state of disbelief at the same time.

“My God, you are right.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Trystan took a victory sip of his mysterious green drink, draining the entire flute empty. “Now-- you were saying something about objecting and war and -- it is all a big old blur. Why don’t we go out and solve crimes?”

“It’s -- 2 --” Nora squinted at the clock. “Not sure if it is morning or evening.”

“Evening, definitely.” Trystan pointed, hazily at the window where everything had gone pitch dark.

“Great idea. Where do we go?” Nora pocketed her notepad and her pencil.

“Imagination. Best thing ever to exist.” Trystan blurted. “There must be -- something or the other going on. New York never sleeps, that’s for sure.”

“That’s Las Vegas.”

“Do you think we should have those -- names? I mean, you have wonderful names like Las Vegas and New York. Nobody’s ever thought of naming ourselves, as people.”

Nora considered it. “You’re a Thorne.”

“Yes I am.”

“And I’m a Rose.”

“Thorne-Rose. Done!” Trystan clapped his hands, victoriously.

“No! My name goes first! It's the law-- well, somewhere in the law. Modern feminism, logic, scientific reasons. You know, the thing. Things. The point is, my name goes first and that's set in stone. It's Rose-Thorne.”

“Really? T comes before R in the alphabetical order.”

“No, it goes P, Q, R, S, T. Not P, Q, T, S, R.”

“Another shower thought--” Trystan placed two fingers against the sides of his head, as if he was somehow telepathically communicating, or deducing something. “There’s no reason for the English letters to be in any order. There’s no reason for A to be before B, simply for the same reasons as to why the planets needn't--- to be ordered in a specific sequence.”

The two grabbed onto the sides of their chairs, slowly getting to their feet. Their heads hurt, as if two monkeys with cymbals each were creating a massive ruckus inside their skulls. And yet, they pressed on, like the impeccable fools they were.

“Crime-solving?”

“Crime-solving.”

A/N: Nora's a fan of ABBA. Trystan's a fan of Queen. And they're both raging bisexual idiots in Mads' Literary Universe/in my headcanon.

Thank you so much for reading! Even more thanks to Aallotar for the prompt!

This scene was also inspired by Sherlock, especially that Stag-Night episode (The Sign of Three) where Sherly and John get drunk, play Guess Who? and solve crimes like the absolute maniacs they are.

Q: Can you spot the Lucifer reference?

Tag List:

Perma: @ofmischiefandmedicine @quixoticdreamer16 Crimes : @aallotarenunelma

Sidenote, I've kind of sort of lost all my tag lists after my, shall we say, "reboot", so if you really wish to be tagged for pure garbage like this, do drop a comment or send me an ask or in whatever way you see fit. Just let me know!

#trystan thorne x nora rose #crimes of passion choices #trystan thorne #nora rose #w:inlocusmads

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 year

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Jordan’s deal

Literally no one asked for this, but I don’t care.

Ursula is a menace to society and loves her personal soap opera, the Hook family drama (TM). She doesn’t even mind that Uma got dragged in anymore.

And Jordan? Why, Jordan is a blogger, a reporter. She can give Ursula all the gossip she wants. It’s a match that was meant to be, really, and gods know why Jordan disagrees.

[PoV of very grumpy Jordan]

It’s midnight and Jordan’s phone is ringing. Which is weird, since she is pretty sure she put it on silent mode, well, pretty much just as she got the phone and then never turned that back on. Like, ever.

She groans and extends her arm in the vague direction of the annoying device. It doesn't stop ringing.

Bloody thing.

She mutters a string of slurry curses at it, which, weirdly enough, don’t make it shut up either. Instead, the song – wait, is that an instrumental version of Poor, Unfortunate Souls?!

…Of course it is. Of fucking course it is.

And of course it starts playing even louder.

And in hindsight, Jordan really shouldn’t have given the infamous sea witch her contact when they finalised their deal. But in Jordan’s defence, she really didn’t think Ursula knew how to use a phone.

Realising that the phone won’t shut up on its own, Jordan climbs out of her warm and comfy bed and picks up the call.

„Yeah?“ she greets unenthusiastically.

„Well, get on with it, girl!“ the sea witch’s voice does not sound like it’s coming from the phone reproductor at all. Jordan refuses to acknowledge that.

„Get on with what?“ she asks, trying to get her brain back online and running. She decides that Ursula owes her a coffee for this.

„Well, what do you think? What do I pay you for?“

„You do not pay me. You asked me for extra coverage of your daughter and, as you put it, the Hook family drama in Auradon, in exchange for advertising my channel in your restaurant.“

Which, admittedly, worked out quite well. Jordan’s subscription base receives quite steady growth due to this arrangement, whether it is because Ursula is very persuasive or because she thinks that holding her customers at knife point is fun, well, that’s not Jordan’s problem.

(Ursula disagrees. She thinks it’s fun to call at any time to share her tactics with Jordan. She was especially amused at poisoning the food of some annoying scallywags and withholding the antidote until after they subscribe. Jordan decided that this is also not her problem and deleted the record of the call from her phone. You know, plausible deniability.)

„Figures,“ the sea witch shrugs, „Now, what did I hear about my daughter and the Hook boy?“

„You need to wait and see in the morning like everybody else. It’s literally midnight.“

„Oh, I know it is midnight, dear – I have the Unhappy Hour around here, so you better hurry up!“

Jordan sights. There is no winning this one, is it.

She really needs to figure out how to block possibly magic phone calls. At least for the nights. Or forever.

„I’m waiting–“ Ursula singsongs and Jordan bites her tongue, as insulting a greek goddess is never a good idea. That much even she knows.

„You really need to stop calling Harry the Hook boy,“ she says instead.

„And why would I ever do that?“ Ursula has the freaking audacity to sound genuinely surprised, „It’s easy to remember and true. I have to use extra adjectives for the girls, would you believe that?“

„… You could use their names?“ suggests Jordan weakly.

„…Nah. Now, the Hook boy and my daughter?“

Okay, sure. This works. Jordan mentally pents up the price of this call of another coffee and a shot of rum.

„Really though, you might need to find another nickname soon,“ she says, and, yeah, her brain hasn't really caught up to her mouth yet, „Because he proposed to Uma and offered to take her name.“

„Well, what did she say?“

Suddenly, Jordan can hear a commotion through the phone, raised voices of drunk sailors admonishing each other to „shut the fuck up for once in your life“ and „Quiet or I’ll kill you right now!“

(All three Hooks and Uma are way more creative with their death threats, by the way.)

„Did you put me on speaker?“ Jordan asks in disbelief.

„Well, duh. I have a betting pool over them running. Now, what did she say? What about the ring? Did anyone die? Was there any ritual sacrifice?“

Jordan wisely decides not to comment on the sea witch’s priorities in general and the ritual sacrifice part in particular. She doesn’t want to know more.

Though, actually…

„…Wouldn’t you know it if there were a ritual sacrifice?“

„Obviously not. It would be dedicated to my daughter, wouldn’t it now?“ Ursula responds in „well, duh,“ tone and Jordan decides that she is done with the questions.

„Actually, could you do me a favour, dear?“ Ursula asks, as if she just remembered something.

„I certainly could not do you a favour, thank you for asking!“ replies Jordan with her best fake cheer voice. She shouldn’t be forced to do this in the middle of the night.

Ursula laughs and offers to help her film an exclusive tour through the port of the Isle of the Lost. Or through the back alleys of Atlantica, her choice.

That is way better.

„Well, now we are talking,“ replies Jordan, „What would you like me to do?“

„Convince the youngest Hook that ritual sacrifices are fun and awesome wedding entertainment and make it seem like it was her idea all along.“

„…Sounds fair.“ Hopefully, there will be no human sacrifice needed. But Jordan is deleting this call too, just in case.

„And by the youngest Hook you mean CJ?“ she asks, just to be sure.

„Yeah, that one.“

„Okay.“ Jordan prepares to hang up, but then she remembers one important detail – in her defence, it’s midnight, and it’s not like they knew.

„Little problem.“

„…Yeah?“ prompts the sea witch as the restaurant behind her actually stills.

„You do know that they have been legally married since they were like sixteen, right?“

…And the regulars erupt in awful noise again. Jordan’s head hurts.

„I’m just saying because apparently, they didn’t know that. But I found the paperwork, so… Well, anyway, you’ll see more in the morning. Bye!“

And Jordan hangs up before Ursula can react.

Hopefully she will get some more sleep now – especially if she leaves her phone outside of her lamp. That way, she can’t hear it ringing. Hopefully.

#disney descendants #descendants fanfiction #yes this is what I am doing with my life #jordan descendants #ursula the sea witch #ursula descendants #mentioned:#uma descendants #harry hook #cj hook

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selormohene · 11 months

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day 8 (tuesday, july 11th 2023)

Had a pretty good day today. Looking forward to the days to come. I do think that I’m getting less stuck in my head lately and thinking about external things more, untangling the knots in my mind.

Been thinking about brain mitochondria and brain energy. Also been thinking more generally about the fact that the brain is an organ, and in many ways akin to a muscle, insofar as it has a job which involves a certain amount of exertion, periodic stress and reconsolidation makes it better at that job, the efficiency and productivity of that exertion can be influenced by keeping it healthy in various other ways (like taking your vitamins and fixing your sleep/circadian rhythm and overall health, judicious use of caffeine, etc). I think a lot of people who don’t realise how much you can do to keep yourself smart (and make yourself smarter, even) — who think you’re just born with what you’re born with and that’s it — don’t think of the brain as an organ or as a muscle, at least not nearly to the extent that they should. The utility of cognitive scaffolding is also important here: the extent to which reading a lot (and reading the right things), training yourself in canons of logic and more generally useful and widely applicable cognitive frameworks (philosophy, evolutionary theory, various sorts of applied math, various social-scientific models, etc.), engaging in cross-domain thinking, alternating between divergent and convergent thinking, synthesising a wide range of information and looking for connections that wouldn’t be obvious to others, having the right interlocutors, etc. can help a lot. Also mindset, not limiting yourself to what seems plausible or feasible. TS Eliot, as quoted by Bernard Williams: “Of course one can ‘go too far’ and except in directions in which we can go too far there is no interest in going at all; and only those who. will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”

Been thinking more about writing as well. Literally my ideal life would be some combination of reading, writing and doing math while making a comfortable income. Need to make that happen. I think I’ve identified some canonical authors and works, and I’m getting better at gaining the required self-consciousness to identify exactly what it is I like about them, how they pull it off, and how I might incorporate elements of what they do into my own work. I especially like that I find aesthetic inspiration in things which aren’t quite literature, special songs, memories, experiences, and even the sensibilities of other people. Like Alexander Grothendieck, for instance. I should, and intend to, lock myself in a room (metaphorically speaking) for a week or two and devote myself intensely to intense and sustained focus on these aesthetic exemplars until I have internalised them to a hitherto unfathomable degree.

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 3 years

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Bad Day

Characters: Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley - all platonic

Warnings: Just some alcoholic drinks.

Summary: You had done something truly awful and Aziraphale and Crowley are determined to find out what.

The base of the bottle came down on the table hard. You had forgotten what number it was but it didn’t bother you as you reached out for the next one. Uncorking the top, you tipped your head back and let the liquid burn down your throat like a divine fire.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on in here?”

You cringed at the voice and looked to where it came from only to see Aziraphale’s face in shock upon discovering the copious empty bottles of alcohol on the floor of his bookshop. Crowley was with him too only, the demon was more excited as if he had walked into an open bar.

“Now, this is more like it.” He chuckled and walked inside the room. Spotting an unopened bottle by your side, he strut his way over and reached across when you snatched it up before his fingers could wrap around the neck.

“No.” You frowned, holding the bottle close. “I’m not sharing! Get your own, demon!”

Astonished with the behaviour, Crowley scowled and stood back up.

“What’s wrong with you?” He looked at the angel. “What’s wrong with them? They normally like sharing.”

Aziraphale, although initially a bit mad at the state of his beloved bookshop, seemed to have deduced why his friend was being difficult. Taking pity, he let out a gentle sigh and tilted his head.

“I believe they’re upset, Crowley.” The angel explained. He crossed the room and wheeled over another chair to take a seat.

Scoffing, Crowley slumped himself onto the small couch. “Upset? Why are they upset? I’m the one who was denied a decent drink.”

“Oh, hush now.” Aziraphale dismissed. He turned his full attention to where you continued guzzling the numbing liquid. “Y/n, I’d like to help you. Can you tell me why you’re drinking… like this?”

You tossed the now-empty bottle away and quickly put its replacement to your mouth. “I did it.”

It was a cryptic answer that worried the onlooking pair. Crowley leaned forward slightly.

“Oh, wow. The angel finally snapped.” He commented. Aziraphale caught onto what Crowley was implying but refused to believe it as the truth.

Dismissing the demon entirely, he put a hand over his friends. “What did you do?”

You heard the question and sniffed.

“I broke the nose of the Sphinx.” You replied and grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist. “But I swear, I never meant to! I was flying so fast that I didn’t see - it was just a small bump and… and it dropped.”

“Oh, thank the Heavens!” Aziraphale sighed in relief as he visibly relaxed at the news.

Crowley squinted at the angel. “Thank the Heavens? They literally caused historical and cultural damage for the human race.”

But, as usual, he was ignored as Aziraphale carried on. “But, you know Y/n, it was only the nose.” The angel reminded gently. “I don’t quite understand why its made you so upset.”

There were other, more pressing, things to be drinking over.

Frowning at your friend, you lowered the bottle and exhaled dramatically.

“Because when I ran away, I flew into the Tower of Pisa … now it’s leaning!”

“Oh…” Aziraphale realised.

Crowley chuckled at the confession, “Two monuments in under an hour. You do know how to fly, right?” He wondered, enjoying your misery.

The white-haired angel flashed him a warning glance and Crowley, albeit reluctantly, altered his statement. “Alright! Maybe it wasn’t the flying but just a boring bad day.”

A bad day seemed more plausible and you looked at the pair with a rekindled hope.

“Do you really think it was a bad day?”

With a graceful smile and radiating warmth, Aziraphale nodded. “I’m positive that that’s all it was.”

Setting the bottle of alcohol down, you closed your eyes and focused on the angelic magic. Taking in a deep breath, you calmed the emotions and felt more at ease.

Crowley took his chance and seized the unopened bottle from the table to steal himself something good to drink.

“Now that you’re feeling more like yourself, we really need to talk about your coping mechanisms.” He noted.

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #good omens imagine #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #crowley imagine #crawley x reader #crawley imagine #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale imagine #ineffable husbands

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baejl · 2 years

Text

dancing fools

ateez 9th member au

moon helps san with his insecurities

WARNINGS: this is set earlier on their debut, so that’s why they’re a bit strange to each other. as we almost never talk about moon and san’s relation, I thought it’d be a fun way to show how they got close and how it turned into the beautiful friendship we have. hope you like it!

masterlist ☾ requests are open feedback is always important to me!

Getting in the dance room, Moon was welcomed by Pirate King, ATEEZ's debut song, and San rehearsing his part alone. As their debut was getting closer, they had this week off to focus more on themselves and get mentally ready for the radical change their lives would go through.

Maybe, just like her, San didn't have anywhere else to go to relax.

Everything was still new to Moon, even though it has been over two months since the news of her debut. The fact that in less than one year she's finally going to be able to call herself an 'idol' scared and made her excited at the same time.

Moon didn't even realise she stood by the door, watching San giving his everything on the dance break. Not until he noticed her presence and completely stopped dancing.

"Oh!" he said, with his arm still on the step pose. "Y-You're here."

"Good morning!" Moon beamed at him, walking to the leather couch to place her backpack there. "Do you mind if I join you? I'm literally going to freak out if I stay five more minutes alone at the dorm."

Moon walked closer to San and started stretching her arms. Pirate King had a tough and energetic choreography. There wasn't a single day she danced that she wasn't physically exhausted.

"Actually," San cleared his throat. "I was about to leave."

Before he even ended his answer, he turned his back to Moon and started to gather his stuff around the room.

"What?" Moon questioned, frowning, still staring at his back. "Why?!"

San took some time to answer her.

"I'm… hungry." he simply said but still didn't face her.

Moon puffed and kept her stretching routine.

"You know we've been living together, right? There's no need to lie to me." she told him, now stretching her legs.

She said it in such a genuine way that it made San stop moving before touching the doorknob.

"I'm not lying to you, Moon." he finally faced her, still not looking her in the eyes. His cheeks were red, and he tried to focus on everything but Moon. "I'm just hungry."

Moon sighed and got up, rubbing her hands to get the dirt off her hand.

"Okay, oppa." she kindly said, placing her hands on her hips. "Let's pretend I believe that you would still leave if I hadn't got here."

San opened his mouth, trying to get a plausible argument to answer her, but he knew there wasn't anything he could say to deny the truth.

"See? I knew it!" Moon said, shrugging. "It's okay, oppa. Have a good meal."

"No, that's not it." San denied, waving his hand, getting closer to Moon. The girl looked at him and arched her eyebrow at him. "I don't like to rehearse my part whenever there's someone else around."

Now, the shocked one was Moon - that stopped whatever she was doing to look at him with an unbelieving face.

"You're kidding, right?" Moon asked. Not having an answer, she asked again. "Right?"

San puffed and placed his bag on the floor, sighing. At that point, Moon could even say he was fighting back his tears, and she started feeling a bit guilty.

"I hate it that I'm not as good as you and the other members. I'm always a walking last-place medal." he said with a sad smile. "I don't even know if people are going to like me."

Moon pouted.

For the little she could tell about San, Moon knew he used to demand a lot of himself, especially when it came to dancing, but she honestly thought he was just a bit too perfectionist. Knowing that all of that insecurity was probably the result of many people telling him that made her heart break.

Being a trainee isn't an easy thing. Being told you're not good enough face to face isn't something you dream of or like. And unfortunately, the mentors and teachers see trainees as some type of robot, ready to be programmed, and not humans with feelings. And, Moon knew better than anyone how the other trainees could use that in their favour.

"Oh…" Moon tried to think about what to say next. "I'm so, so sorry if I was too indelicate. I didn't want to make you feel bad."

"Don't pity me, Moon." San said, rolling his eyes and scoffing. "The last thing I need is someone telling me things that aren't true."

"Then why do you listen to whoever says you're not good enough?" Moon snapped back. "Because, I'm sorry, oppa, but you can't expect me to believe you really think this about yourself."

"How not to think when everyone tells you the same thing?" he asked with a trembling voice. "I'm not good enough, Moon. I know it, and it's okay. I just really want you to keep this whole situation a secret. I don't need the boys lying to me too."

"I'm not pitying you." Moon said, after some long seconds in silence. "But I'm trying to help you. It's not okay to let people, especially the ones who aren't happy for you, tell you who you are. You're not bad, oppa, and you're certainly not ugly at all."

San blushed even more if that was possible.

"And, if it makes you a bit more comfortable, you're not the only one who's insecure." she bumped their shoulders.

He giggled and shook his head.

"You're definitely not the one. You always look so fierce and strong."

"You're right, I look, but I'm not." Moon joked, and San finally smiled. "Let's say I can just fake a bit better than the others."

The boy sighed, trying to decide on what to do.

If he gets out and does not face this obstacle, he doesn't know if he'd ever get this opportunity again, and Moon was so empathic with him.

But, the thought of just going back to the dorm and hiding seemed so tempting.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to dance a bit." Moon announced, heading to put on a song to warm up.

"Okay. I'm staying." San said with a small smile. "But, please, don't tell the boys about my… thing. Not even Wooyoung knows about it."

Moon zipped her mouth shut and pretended to throw the key away. They laughed at her childish action, and Moon took San, dragging him to the middle of the room.

"Now, let's dance insecurity away!"

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calllamander · 3 years

Note

Okay I'm ready I've made up my mind , here's a little backstory no one wants to hear: my sister just got engaged and I cried for about half an hour because I was so freakin happy for her sooo I'm in such a lovely mood , maybe you can pick that up and write a little engagement thingy ? :) idc if it's drabble hcs or else , whatever works best for you sweetie 😊 also you can pick the character ...... but we both know who works always for us lmao

Thank you so muuuch and take all the time you need ! 💖

ahhhh! this is so sweet! nonnie congrats to your sister!! when I got this ask I literally started smiling so wide in my online class that everyone was really confused 😂 I hope this is alright...and plausible haha I’ve never been proposed to (hurry up Tooru smh) - sorry for the wait, this is my piece de résistance and I wanted it to be as good as it could be ❣️

Hq boys proposing

KUROO smiled at you from the passenger seat, your hand in his as usual as you drove, Tokyo fading into the patchwork fields of country. “tetsu...” you ask, laughing as the wind tangled you’re hair, “where are we going?” it seemed almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask because he suddenly looked nervous, very nervous, the kind of nervous where he accidentally blurts out chemistry pick up lines on the first date (it’s a miracle he got a second one). he looked over, emboldened by your easy enthusiasm. “do you remember when we were still in high school, and you used to call me and just say ‘get me out of here?’ ” his voice is low and serious, and impossibly gentle with emotion. you nod, and your smile gets sadder at the memory, the memory of you. “well,” he stops the car and opens up his door, hurrying round to do the same for yours, composing his thoughts as you start the walk, down the path off the road, along the river, and he feels a flush of pride as recognition illuminates your face. it’s a perfect evening, the sky is watercolour pink and orange, and the water reflects it perfectly. “we found this place by chance” he continued speaking faster from nerves, “and when we walked down this- this exact path, i knew that this was different from anything else. my whole life I have had a good life, and I had been with good people and yet I‘d just felt...” he paused, and looked you right int he eyes, before sighing out: “restless.” your mouth opens slightly and you whisper his name. “And you know when I’m with you I just feel still” he continues, starting to blink back tears. “and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything y/n l/n, and” he got down on one knee: in front of the setting sun, and the river refracting the light. and he did look still. he looked radiant and relaxed and so so happy. and you covered your face with your hands but stopped yourself because you didn’t want to miss any of this. “and this is my moms ring” he said, “and i wish she could’ve met you but I know she would have“ his voice cracked and he looked away for a split second, swallowing hard, “would have loved you almost as much as I do.” he grinned in spite of himself and you smiled too, even through your tears. “so,” he laughed, “after all this, I guess ill just....” he laughed again, messing his hair up agitatedly, “will you marry me?”

“yes!” you laugh and run towards him, “a thousand times yes!”

OIKAWA looked himself over once more in the mirror, he’d tried hard to look like he’s trying but also casual which makes him feel kind of stupid but that paradox of appearances and feelings is just how he’s wired. casual. not I’ve-been-planning-this-for-forever-and-if-it-goes-badly-i-don’t-have-the-faintest-idea-what-I’d-do. that’s not what he wants. it needs to be a total surprise. the rings already in his breast pocket, right above his heart. the ring feels like happiness. “princess?” he spins and offers you his arm, “ready?” And when he’s sees you he blushes down neck like when its genuine, because you look beautiful in that dress, and he might be getting a little bit choked up, and ducking down to hide it. because...because it’s you, because he’s actually doing this. with you. actually. finally. “lets go then” you laugh and he laughs back with a determination usually reserved for the court. because this is everything. the drive is a short one and the night air is cold against your cheek, the streetlights make oikawa’s hair a coppery halo round his head and the wind fluffs it up in a way he gets frustrated about but you could stare at all day. “i love you ” you sigh, looking over at your boyfriend, and he blushes and stutters and tries to focus on the road. “I love you too darling” and he gives you the gentlest smile that he‘s ever shared with anyone “te amo, mi alma.” he parks and takes your hand. the observatory is empty: long closed, and your heels clack on the tiled floor. the stairs are steep, but the two of you are young and you‘re boundless because that’s what love does to people. in no time at all you step out, into the round room that forms the top floor, and gasp. there’s candles set in the corners and there’s flowers and there’s your boyfriend looking utterly ethereal, his white shirt a buttery yellow in the candle light. and you feel your heart just ache with how much you love him. he presses a button, and, as the roof starts to open up like a flower, he takes a deep breath. “when I was younger every time I felt lonely I used to think about space” sliver by sliver the roof was opening up, and you could see a glass dome, snatches of stars, pinpricks of light. torus voice was gentle, and fragile, and proud and horrifically insecure and somehow everything because it was him. “theres more out there“ He glanceable up at the sky unfolding, “than we can ever comprehend...I liked it. I liked that it was infinite. i liked that I belonged to something that was chaotic and orderly and empty and full” he swallowed hard. “and then there was you. and you were the best person I had ever met. and I thought that maybe I would have to be something else for you, because i’ve felt like that my whole life. but you - you just...made me feel like I belonged. and I didn’t need the night sky anymore because this,” the roof finally opened all the way and for one perfect moment it was just you, tooru and the universe: the heaviness of him, and the lightness too. “this is infinite.” he dropped down on one knee. “y/n l/n I love you with everything in the solar system and I will until every last star is blown out, and a thousand years more. and this isn’t horrifically corny so I’m going to just ask: will you marry me?” You let out a sob

“yes”

SAKUSA leant into your touch the way he never had for anyone else. like a warmth he never knew was missing, a tiny puzzle piece in his soul. your hand was running through his hair, occasionally creeping down to rub his back. he blushes, because irritatingly he can’t stop himself (but does he wean them to?). you‘re off guard now, relaxed, eyes closed, breathing in the night air from the roof of your apartment block. his face is in your neck and it’s all very peaceful (so peaceful it makes his heart hurt). he takes a deep breath (its now or never). “...hey y/n?” you hum, opening your eyes to show you’re listening. he struggles to think of what to say. “i love you” he settles on. you kiss his hair, “I love you too omi.” you say it like it’s obvious and he shakes his head, sitting up a little more so he can look at you. “no, I mean...I- I didn‘t know what love was. and I didn’t realise how badly I wanted it, until I met you. and I just” he exhales, momentarily turning his head up to stare into the sky. “I want to spend forever with you. that. that’s what I want. and I don’t have a ring, or a dramatic plan and maybe that’s what you would have wanted-” he’s looking down now, he knows, getting nervous, and he forces himself to get back on track. “but” He realises he should be kneeling and goes to do so in front of you. “I would be the happiest man alive if you would marry me.” and there, on a camp bed that he dragged onto the roof and covered with bedding just because you mentioned you liked the night, under the cloudy 11 o clock sky with the love of your life. you said yes.

@anonanonymousanon

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td-scenarios · 3 years

Text

How they react to you talking to someone they don’t like

this one may not be my best, but I hope y’all don’t mind! i dont think im good at writing anger too much,,,, <3

You already know he wouldn’t say anything about it. Unless they’re like extremely dangerous and he wants you to know, but other than that he’ll just try to act as calm as possible

Definitely won’t make too big of a deal of it afterwards either, will probably just lightly bring it up

“Uh yeah, Y/N, I’m not too sure about them. Are you sure you want to keep in contact?” Very careful with his words

But if this person is a douche you best believe that he’ll be all on it giving them a taste of their medicine in 10 seconds flat

Yes, never forget how he bonded with Geoff and Duncan in Island over bullying Harold since he kept having his clothes lie around. He doesn’t tolerate immodesty and you best believe he’ll step up when needed.

Gwen

Isn’t having any of this shit.

You wouldn’t even be caught dead talking to anyone she dislikes because she does vent to you about those who get on her nerves at any chance.

If you forget and start walking towards someone she doesn’t like to go say hi or something, she’ll just grab your hand and lead you away, not wanting to deal with whoever’s bullshit

She doesn’t like HAVING to interact with people she can’t tolerate and if she has deemed them irredeemable then that’s that.

Owen

Not even a plausible scenario.

Not at all.

This boy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body

Even if he slightly dislikes someone, you better fucking believe he’s still going to keep talking to them to see if he can find more likeable traits within

Maybe he’ll voice some discomfort like “Are you okay with talking to them? They give me the heebie jeebies.” But not much more than that.

Will definitely still talk to whoever is giving him the heebie jeebies

He is just so sweet and nice y’all he would never

Lindsay

She wouldn’t technically not like somebody, I just don’t think she’d enjoy their vibes

“Haha yeah, that’s cool. Anyways, Y/N you wanna go somewhere that isn’t near [insert literally any annoying person ever] like at all? No reason!” All sweet as if she didn’t just insult them by saying that

You’d listen to her because she may not be bright sometimes, but after her whole Heather thing, she had gotten better at telling if someone was a walking red flag

Before saying anything about the person, she’d probably be glaring or just be so fake throughout the entire exchange

Is pretty much tired of people and their bullshit because of how she gets treated sometimes, might become more forward as time goes on

Shawn

“Yeah, I’d rather you not talk to this person. Ever. Like, forever ever.”

He doesn’t leave places much unless it’s to “gather supplies” or something of that sort, so you’ll tell him about the exchange after it happens

Thus begins the longest speech about safety like oh my God

“-And that’s why you shouldn’t be near them. I can’t lose you now!”

The exchange will definitely end in you comforting him because the domino effect his mind created because of this situation got too intense.

He’s a pretty attentive guy anyways so you tell him that you’ll try to keep interactions with this person short if you ever bump into them again.

That calms him down a bit and you both go on, business as usual

Anne Maria

Looks up from her compact mirror to see you in a conversation with the person of her annoyance, mirror immediately snaps shut. Shit’s goin down.

“Oh you just had to show your greasy, no-good, breakin’ out face, around here, huh? Not on my watch, nuh-uh. Go on, get, I don’t want to see you evah talkin’ to my partner again, got it?!” Her volume just continuously rising

After the person is gone, you immediately round up on her, wondering what that was all about.

“What was what all about?” She takes a second before realising. “Oh that? You just don’t need snakes like that in your life, babe. Trust me I’m doin’ you a favor.”

She’ll put her arm around your shoulder and leads you guys away, you still just trying to process it.

Eventually you’ll just shrug it off because if the fight doesn’t have anything to do with her appearance, Anne Maria usually has a good reason to be getting angry.

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

#Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales x reader

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 3 years

Text

Honestly, controversial opinion, but Crowley arguably does move pretty fast, if you look at it from a celestial perspective.

“But they were friends for 6000 years!” No they weren't.

I mean, headcanons can vary, but if we're going purely by the text then they don't appear to have met up at all in the 1000 years between Eden and Noah's Ark (Crowley has to ask about the aftermath of the Flaming Sword Incident) and it's not clear how many times they encountered each other in the 3000 years between that and the crucifixion.

They don't go out for lunch together (that we see) until eight years after that. Once again, I've seen lots of excellent headcanons and fics about how they might have spent that intervening time together, but from a strictly canon perspective, Crowley and Aziraphale being basically just friendly colleagues for the first 4000 years of their relationship is a totally valid interpretation.

And then, of course, Crowley probably has to leave (he's “just popped in for a quick temptation”, remember) and the next time we see them is 500 years later. Which is a super long time for a human— and I'm not going to argue that they didn't meet up at all in the intervening time, since at this point I don't think it's implied one way or another— but for an angel or a demon?

They've both been on Earth for well over 4000 years by this point. How long is 500 years relative to them? Fifty years? Fifteen? Five?

Anyway, it's at this point— 500 years after what was quite possibly their first lunch together— that Crowley turns to Aziraphale and is like “hey? Want to commit literal treason?”

And make no mistake, that is what he is asking. These two are enemy agents, and Crowley is asking to exchange information about the secret plans of their respective sides. This would require Aziraphale to

a) trust Crowley not to take advantage of this information for the benefit of Evil

b) consciously choose not to take advantage himself of the information Crowley gives him, for the benefit of Good

c) accept (even just a little bit) the idea that the activities he's just spend the past >4000 years on don't make any difference at all in the grand scheme of things, and Heaven doesn't really give a shit about him.

… And he does it. He rejects the idea initially, but just over a thousand years later we see them together at the Globe, and the Arrangement is not only established, but clearly has been so for some time.

Long enough for Crowley to decide it's time to bend the rules. Not only are they arranging secret meetings and tactically keeping out of each other's way, but they've already done the 'taking care of each other's blessings and temptations' trick “dozens of times”. Aziraphale is still nervous and shocked when Crowley suggests it, so he's probably used to only doing it as a last resort in emergencies, but he knows exactly what Crowley is suggesting the moment he comments on what a shame it is that they both have to go to Edinburgh. This is not a new thing.

Aziraphale at this point still believes that angels and demons are fundamentally different. For all he knew, the first time he performed a temptation he would fall instantly and the first time Crowley performed a blessing he would… explode, or something. But still, at some point during the last thousand years, Crowley persuaded him to do it.

And then, just over 200 years after that (and how long even is that? It's ~4% of the time they've spent on Earth so far) Crowley asks for holy water, Aziraphale thinks he's going to kill himself, freaks out about how much he cares and brings out the Heaven Party Line to cover up his real feelings. Crowley takes it as a personal insult and they fall out for a century— according to the script, Aziraphale is convinced that they're not friends anymore.

100 years after that, and Crowley's back again, and he's just saved Aziraphale from discorporation (… by threatening him with worse discorporation, but still) and thought to rescue his books. Aziraphale has his big moment of 'this demon is the only being who truly cares about me, and I truly care about him' and then literally like 20 years later (which would be what on the celestial timescale? Two weeks?) Crowley's after the holy water again, and Aziraphale has to choose between letting his friend almost certainly die through inaction, or making him slightly less likely to die right away but ensuring that if/when he does die later down the line, it will be All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

He chooses option 2 and in the process has to admit— maybe not out loud, but definitely through implication— that the initial refusal to hand it over was never about Heaven, because Aziraphale couldn't give a toss about what Heaven thinks compared to what will ensure the safety of one incredibly irritating demon. Probably crossing his fingers that he's not going to Fall the whole way through, because that is a bloody extreme thing to admit given the circumstances.

And Crowley's response? “Cool, so we're now going to go off together and start hanging out like normal people who don't have the threat of each other's horrific destruction hanging over their heads every minute of the day? We're going to drive off in my car and just be openly BFFs forever now?” No Crowley.

In the past just under 2000 years you've gone from work aquaintances (which was already illegal! Literally every conversation you two have ever had could have resulted in your deaths!), to treason buddies, to Aziraphale fully admitting to himself that his loyalty to you is more than his loyalty to Heaven. That his loyalty to Heaven does not in fact play into it when it comes to your safety. Even though he's an angel, and that sort of thinking is exactly the kind of thing you Fall for.

And like less than thirty seconds after you've both come to that realisation, you're turning round and asking him to give up all plausible deniability and attempts at secrecy and just start openly hanging out together where Heaven and Hell could just stumble upon you at any time.

Like yeah he turns you down, what with finding out you're about to risk killing yourself, and handing you a suicide pill, and finally admitting his ultimate betrayal of Heaven in his heart, this has been a rough past few hours for Aziraphale. He's probably not ready to be making those kinds of decisions.

But he says he's willing to give it a try. Not yet— give him a minute Crowley— but he's willingly acknowledging that there is a Next Step to this relationship and he wants to get there.

And then the next time we see the two of them, in 30-40 years time, Aziraphale has made the step. They're going to the Ritz together and getting wasted in the shop afterwards. They seem to have done this before. Crowley now wants to form an allegiance and deliberately work to circumvent the Great Plan that Aziraphale believes was set out 6000 years ago by God Herself, and it literally takes an afternoon for Crowley to talk him into it.

Like, I see a lot of posts about the holy water scene where people are blaming Aziraphale or joking about how Crowley couldn't possibly go any slower than he is already. And yeah, from a human perspective, they're barely moving. But from the perspective of millennia old beings whose existence predates the Earth itself? And for whom literally every step in their relationship was utterly revolutionary and completely unprecedented?

To Aziraphale, it probably felt a lot faster.

#good omens #suicide mention #long post #good omens headcanons #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #If You Give A Demon An Oyster #then he'll want some wine to go with it #and then he'll want you to drink it with him #and then he'll probably ask you to commit treason…#to be clear #i'm not saying that crowley is necessarily going *too fast* here #just that aziraphale's not going too slow #given the circumstances #the situatuon is not as clear cut as it first seems

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amarriageoftrueminds · 3 years

Note

Fave stucky fics?

Easy Work for Easy Pay

(to me this is the perfect fic, my most re-read, really satisfying -- office chemistry! killer plot twists! spot-on characterisation! apart from like 1 line and some truly awful music choices I wouldn’t change a word.)

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series

(my most-reread series; post-WS AU fluffy screamingly hilariously funny and moving comedy in which Bucky is following Steve around DC while Steve is, he hopes, following him around).

The Sweetest Spark

(kind of a sugar-daddy!Steve/student!Bucky AU except not because it's just that people think Bucky's a gold-digger when he ain't... one of those fics that makes me stare into space mentally writing fanfic of the fanfic, if that makes sense.)

Lemon Meringue Lies

(obviously I’m a sucker for cook!Bucky, and slowburn with a side of mutual pining and friends-to-lovers, who isn’t? Steve being made to realise how much he takes Bucky for granted is also, in this case, literally chef’s kiss.)

These Streets series

scalding hot, NYPD BeatCop!Steve / reforming!hood Bucky (Bottom!Steve !! But they also switch???) Not to be read in public.

Misdemeanor

(shrunkyclunks comedy; cop Bucky accidentally pulls over Cap Steve and has to ask for his license... which Steve never bothered to get)

In the Deed the Glory series

(former high school sweethearts become rival football players in college’ AU) is bizarrely compelling, really really gripping; part has an appearance from a fanon Isaiah Bradley, obviously pre-FATWS which makes Pt 4 in particular, er, awkward.

Carbs and Conversations

(modern Hockey au! Bucky is still an assassin but in the sport-sense.)

War, Children

(shrinkyclinks, it's that rarest of things a skinny!Steve modern AU I can actually stand -- and god the modern Vet!Bucky/homeless!Steve hurt/comfort… One for a rainy, melancholy day… it'll stay with you.)

Love Stories for Tedious People

(is an interesting Doctor!Steve/PTSD!Soldier Bucky AU with a realistic feel and a rare plausible not-annoying past Sam/Steve; has lines of dialogue that haunt.)

Life of the Party

(BAMF childrens’-entertainer!Bucky mistakes Steve for a fellow superhero impersonator; LOL funny.)

All The Angels and The Saints

(examines the effect on stucky of Steve’s politics/religion; has lines of dialogue from Bucky that just really stuck with me.)

20th Century Limited

(I think of this as the ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ AU. Steve and Bucky can hear/communicate with each other when they’re ‘on ice’. Extra points for Bucky and Hulk being immediate Bros.)

Dishonor series

(comedy in which they meet during the Battle of Manhattan, and Steve has the most Awesome case of foot-in-mouth syndrome imaginable, I mean, talk about meetuglies, truly it’s a miracle he and BAMF Sergeant Bucky ever get past the enemies stage.)

My Working Week and My Sunday Rest

(holy shit this fic, dat slowburn! talk about shivers down the spine! exactly articulated bottom!Steve in a way I’d never really been able to put into words.)

Golden Age of Illustration

(An AU based on the real life of J. C. Leyendecker, where Bucky is sent home before the train mission, gets back into art, becomes an add illustrator and Steve is his model/muse. Illustrations included!)

The Fool In the Mirror

(Bucky is support omega to alpha Steve; hits every note I want in a fic).

The World's at Stake

(soulmate mark au shrunkyclunks, angst with a happy ending because they both think their marks mean they’ll never meet)

Pull Apart the Dark

(Steve is transformed into a toddler who will only let Bucky look after him; trouble is, Bucky is still recovering from being TWS and everyone else is freaked out.)

bucky barnes: tsa employee extraordinaire

(shrunkyclunks semi-comedy; mad costumed comic-book villains keep coming through Bucky’s airport on the way to attack Captain America.)

Here's a Conspiracy

(pre-war and post-war shrinkyclinks au. This fic. This fic Destroyed me.)

And It Won't Be Too Much

(swoony romantic modern au with iirc marine Cap Steve and event-planner Bucky who’s cheeky to Col. Philips; this fic is the reason a certain Haley Reinhardt version of a song is in my stucky playlists.)

The Match Game

(modern au Steve’s a hit-it-and-quit-it type who decides he wants more with new-to-his-building Bucky ... who only wants a friend-with-benefits situation.)

The Boy With The Thorn In His Side

(“Holy shit,” says Steve. “I’ve been knocked out twice by the same guy.” BAMF!Bucky shrunkyclunks Bucky is a lamb in this one.)

Lucky Seven

(shrunkyclunks more BAMF!Bucky !!! as the hot Russian mechanic who works on Steve’s bike but has a Dark Past, he is again a lamb.)

Put You on Something New

(modern au frat bro Steve and football star Bucky hnnng the straight boy ending up sucking dick kink I didn’t know I had, oof!)

Through The Looking Glass

(Bucky is transported to a mirror universe where there’s a Steve who carries a sword and is... not quite right. This epic fic ripped my guts out and stomped on them; I mean, literal tears, streaming down my face. Thank god the ending has a goosebumps-style pick-your-own version or I might’ve Actually died.)

Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap

(Steve and Bucky are accidentally body swapped and get stuck babysitting the infuriating Peter Parker on a roadtrip to go sort it out. Had me weak with laughter and I have never identified more with Bucky’s Extreme Rage.)

#hey nonny #toAyourQ #stucky #fic rec #stucky fic rec #lotsa variety there! enjoy!#yet each man queues the thing he loves #dat's me

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

final sleigh drabble #4

❛ it’s New Year’s Eve…❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here

kim seokjin x reader smut; ass eating (f receiving) 3,558 words

“Seokjin, where are we going?” You demanded, voice low as you followed him up the stairs.

He ignored your question. “Quick, hurry! It’s nearly midnight.” Taking your hand he pulled you into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Only then did he give you an explanation. “I want to kiss you.”

Was he stupid? Jungkook and Mina were here. If they found out nothing would be right. The situation was... complicated to say the least. Co-workers, rivals, supposed to hate one another’s guts. Jungkook would have a field day. He was already suspicious, immediately asking why you’d shown up at Seokjin’s New Year’s Eve party.

“Her best friend is hooking up with mine, I had to invite her by default,” Seokjin had explained expertly.

“Do I look happy about it?” You’d shot, playing your part well.

You’d never admit it out loud, but it was sort of exciting pretending to still hate Seokjin. (Not that you’d truly hated him before – that was a horrible word.) He still annoyed the hell out of you regardless of the sex, so... But yeah, Jungkook really had no clue. No clue that last night Seokjin had made you cum four times in a row. No clue that Seokjin had been fucking you so good, the best you’d ever had, for pretty much the last fortnight. It was amusing.

But not when he was unintentionally putting his foot in it.

“This is priceless,” he’d hollered. “Like a fucking sitcom. You know, five years from now, maybe sooner, you two will end up falling in love and getting married. I call it now.”

Seokjin had turned red immediately. You caught it but didn’t say anything, too busy feeling awkward yourself. Thankfully, Jungkook didn’t notice, too busy getting chewed out by his tomato faced friend. “Shut the fuck up, Kook. You’re drunk already.”

Seokjin was playing a dangerous game right now. Less than five minutes before the new year. “They’re going to notice we’ve disappeared,” you worried, feeling him reach for your hands.

“Already sorted it, babe.” He reassured you, letting go of one hand to slide his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, unlocking it to pull a chain of messages up. You read them quickly, not quite believing your eyes.

(11:48pm) Seokjin: You never guess what (11:48pm) JK: what? (11:49pm) Seokjin: Guess who’s throwing their guts up in my bathroom? (11:49pm) JK: WHO (11:50pm) Seokjin: I said guess (11:51pm) Seokjin: Nvm it’s Y/N (11:51pm) JK: what 😂 (11:51pm) JK: how come (11:52pm) Seokjin: She’s blaming Yoongi’s kebabs but I think she’s just had too much to drink (11:52pm) JK: photo or its not happening (11:52pm) Seokjin: I’m not taking a photo, do you want death? (11:53pm) JK: fair (11:53pm) Seokjin: Yeah so I’m probably going to miss the countdown (11:53pm) JK: aww what.. get her friend 😅 (11:53pm) JK: oh no wait i can see her making out with yoongi against the fridge (11:54pm) Seokjin: It’s no big deal. I’ll celebrate later (11:54pm) Seokjin: Happy New Year, JK! (11:54pm) JK: happy new year brother 😘

“Seokjin, you told him I’m being sick?!” You exclaimed.

“Relax,” he breezed. “It’s the only plausible reason we’d both disappear. I’m helping out a frenemy in need. Besides, it’s payback for the cake.”

You stared up at him, quite honestly speechless. “I think looking like an idiot for not being able to handle my drink is much worse than forgetting to order a damn cake!”

“But babe, you can’t handle your drink.” He said gently, placing a patronising hand on your shoulder. “You forgot our first kiss.”

“Listen here–”

“10, 9, 8...”

“Seokjin, don’t interrupt me,” you told him, hearing the whole of the party downstairs begin to countdown too.

“7, 6, 5, 4...” He was so annoying. But maybe he had a point. Nobody was going to realise you were both gone, too busy celebrating the new year in…

“3, 2, 1!”

The press of his mouth was soft as he leaned into kiss your lips, successfully distracting you. You even wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him harder as you heard a bunch of fireworks start to go off around his neighbourhood. Downstairs you could hear lots of cheering.

“Happy New Year, baby,” he smiled as he pulled away. Your felt a surge of warmth throughout your body. You weren’t even that drunk, which hang on a minute – how was Jungkook supposed to believe you were wasted and throwing your guts up in Seokjin’s bathroom?!

You told yourself to chill out. Jungkook had fallen for it, and now you were free to kiss Seokjin as much as you wanted for a few minutes. Pressing your lips into his once, you grinned. “Happy New Year.” Who’d have thought it? Seeing the new year in with him... Not you, that was for sure.

Seokjin wound his arms around your middle, giving your ass a squeeze. “Now, let’s see it in as we mean to go on.”

“Huh?” He couldn’t mean—

“With my face between your ass!”

“What?” You exclaimed. “No, Seokjin! We don’t have time for sex.”

“I sorted it, remember.” He was holding your hands again, yanking you over to his bed. You tried your best to root yourself to the floor but he was too strong. You were soon on your back, caged under his body, tongue down his throat.

“Y/N.” He breathed against your jaw, lips sticky. “Let me eat you out so good you cry.”

You took a shaky breath. You couldn’t say no to him, it was impossible. Not when he could get you wet with the lamest of lines. “Bit sadistic, but okay.”

His face literally was between your ass in no time. On all fours, your skirt bunched up around your waist, underwear thrown to the floor somewhere.

“Spread your legs a little more for me.” He was murmuring but it was still a command and you listened, lowering your back in the process so he could hit your clit better with his tongue.

Amongst the pleasure, you kept thinking of how dumb this was. Yes, his door was locked, and yes, nobody had probably realised you’d gone, too busy partying downstairs, but fuck, this was so, so stupid... Why did neither of you have any self-control?!

“Ha-Have you ever had someone go down on your ass before?”

“What?” You jerked up at his question, the surprise taking over, your ass hitting him in the face.

“Woah, calm down.” He chuckled, steadying you with gentle hands. “You nearly knocked me out.”

“Sorry,” you all but squeaked. Thoughts of downstairs were no more. What was he talking about and where had it come from?

“Well, have you?” He pressed.

You told yourself to take a breath, and then replied. “No.”

You could feel Seokjin’s breath puffing against your wetness, making you squirm. “Is it something you’d like to try maybe?”

What the hell. You felt like you were getting interviewed. “I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it.” That was a lie actually. Your ex had begged you to do it on more than one occasion, you’d just never relented.

Seokjin sounded a little impatient when he spoke next. “Can you think about it now, please?”

“You want to eat my ass?” What a dumb question. It was obvious he did.

“Yes, very much so,” he practically lamented, fingers running along your slit to rub at your clit.

“Ooooohhh,” you huffed, unable to stop yourself from arching into him. You felt his lips press against one ass cheek, kissing it softly.

“It’s just staring at me.” His voice was small. He stroked you harder. “Always staring at me and I want–I want to make you feel good.”

“Okay.”

You had never made a decision so fast in all your life. You’d even surprised yourself. You’d definitely surprised him.

“Okay?” He repeated, as if he hadn’t quite heard you properly.

“Yes, okay.” You were wet and horny and now desperate for an orgasm. He could go down on whatever he wanted. “I trust you. If you say it’ll feel good then I believe you.”

You sensed him pause behind you, as if he was contemplating something, or maybe he was still in shock at how easy you’d given into him. You squeaked out when he spanked you out of the blue, jutting forward as he told you, “You’ll love it. Trust me.”

He was confident, you’d give him that. Had he done it before? Probably. No man was this sure of himself without knowing for sure he could back it up. Seokjin liked to talk shit, but it was all true. Always true. He was no liar.

He kissed your ass cheek again, opening his mouth to pass his tongue over the flesh like it was about to kiss him back, all while rubbing you expertly, fingers quietly squelching around your clit. His mouth moved closer and closer to his destination... Your heart beat loudly in your chest, the anticipation rushing loudly inside your ears.

“Oh.” The first little niggle of his tongue got you tensing up, sensation new and confusing as he found his way between your ass.

“Relax for me,” he whispered, pulling back to give one of your thighs a reassuring rub. You listened easily, softening under his touch, and he used the moment to stop all movement around your clit, grabbing your ass instead to spread it a little.

“Good girl.” Fuck. He definitely felt your asshole clench at his praise, moaning as he traced it with the tip of his tongue. How embarrassing.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on the newfound pleasure, holding back any noises that wanted to slip out. Confident that you were comfortable, Seokjin’s movements got bolder, tongue flattening against the hole, tip flicking back and forth.

With both hands on either side of your ass he pulled back briefly to ask you a question. “Does it feel good?”

The sudden swipe of his tongue had you moaning out. “Yes–Ngh.” It was new, your body extra sensitive and you didn’t know how to react.

“Told you.” His breath was hot against your skin, tongue eager once again to pleasure you. Humming in enjoyment, his fingers squeezed into the meat of your ass. “Your ass is a gift from God.”

You attempted to scoff but it sounded choked up and desperate. “Dramatic, much–Ohhh.” Your body dropped slightly at the sudden spike in pleasure, his tongue nudging it’s way inside you a little. The intrusion was wet and warm and had your thighs trembling. He dug further, wriggling his tongue a little and you buckled once more, burying your face into the covers. “Seokjin, fuck. Fuck.”

He moaned in response, unable to use words seeing as he was otherwise preoccupied. The vibrations shot up your body, the blood rushing to your head. You didn’t think you could experience a better pleasure.

You were wrong.

Once you felt his middle finger push into your vagina a gasp escaped your throat. His other hand reached forward to play with your clit. The sudden onslaught turned you dizzy.

Seokjin dislodged from you with a lewd flick of his tongue, his lips kissing the hole once before he spoke, voice thick and urgent. “You love it.” He slipped a second finger inside of you, pressing against your walls as you moaned. Words were useless. And they wouldn’t come anyway.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Lowering his mouth once more, he continued where he left off, grunting when he found he couldn’t quite do it how he wanted now that his hands were preoccupied. “Shit, I don’t have enough hands.” He cursed on cue.

Body getting more and more desperate for an orgasm, you raised your ass, outstretching your knees wider in a bid to spread your ass. It felt crude and somewhat embarrassing, but you couldn’t find yourself caring that much right now. Not when he was making you feel so good. Not when Seokjin sounded like he was this closing to combusting down to your eagerness.

“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered, tongue flicking against your hole easily this time. “You love me eating your ass, Y/N.” You felt your cheeks burn, your voice breaking as a noise racked through you. “Y/N,” he pressed. “Tell me how much you love it.”

He was getting good at this. Pulling words you didn’t have the confidence to say out loud. He brought something out of you. A confidence that had always been too shy to reveal itself. To voice itself. This was a perfect example right now. Your ex had spent years trying to have you like this and here was Seokjin victorious after only two weeks.

“Seokjin, I love it,” you gasped, hearing him hum enthusiastically as he flicked the tip of his tongue rapidly against you, his cheek pressed flat to your ass. “I love it so much.”

“I love it too, baby.” He agreed.

“H-how can you multitask so well?” You asked with a struggle, the roll of his fingertips against your clit making you sensitive.

Tongue flat to your asshole, he pressed forward, moving his head up and down, soaking you, pleasuring you. He pulled away suddenly, you clenched at nothingness. “An incessant need to pleasure you, that’s how.”

No matter how many times you heard him say something to that effect, you loved it all the same. It did wonders for your self-confidence, and this time was no different, moaning loudly, ass rocking back into him, desperate for more.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice was so low it rumbled. “I love making you feel good. Love making you cum.” You jumped at the sudden sensation of his tongue again, the tip pushing inside you slightly with a few wiggles. The fingers inside of your vagina continued to thrust and press around. Your knees wobbled, whimpers escaping your throat. You were close.

Tongue pulling out once more, he removed his fingers from your clit, stroking the right side of your ass instead, smearing it with your arousal. “You don’t need that.” His tongue went back to flicking against your hole. “This is enough.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. The thought of coming around his fingers as he ate your ass was almost enough to send you over the edge. Seokjin could tell. He already knew your body so well. It was pretty unbelievable. “You gonna cum?” He asked, placing a kiss against your hole, before poking his tongue out, moving it side to side.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, body bucking with the amount of pleasure travelling through it. He held you up, wrapping his free arm around your middle, holding you to him. To his tongue. He was out of breath, panting and grunting due to not only effort but his own horniness too. He continued fingering you, trying his best with the angle he had. It was enough. Definitely enough.

“Ohmygoddfdngh,” you exclaimed, words and moans blurring into one as you felt the initial hit of your orgasm. Body immediately taut, you buried your face into the covers, cries muffled as the waves of pleasure crashed throughout your body.

Seokjin’s fingers eased, pulling out of you halfway, but he continued to eat your ass, tongue gentle, but still just as desperate as he let you inch away, careful not to overdo it as your sensitivity grew to its maximum.

Still holding you, he finally stopped, placing a wet kiss to your left ass cheek. His lips were so soft. “Shush, shush. Keep it down,” he calmed, stroking your back.

Had you really been that loud? You couldn’t hear yourself, blood still rushing through your ears, heart pounding against your ribcage. You lifted your head, arms and legs shaky but you held yourself as steady as you could manage. (Although you knew if Seokjin let you go you’d immediately face plant.)

He chuckled. “Baby, we’ll get caught and then you’d have to explain why you were eagerly on all fours for me letting me eat your ass.”

You were so fucked the idea didn’t even seem that mortifying. “Okay, okay,” you babbled, pushing back into him. “Just please continue!”

“Always begging...” He murmured smugly.

You didn’t even know what you were begging for. His dick? His tongue again? You were so turned on you couldn’t think straight.

He yanked you up with the arm around your waist, moving your hair behind your back to kiss your neck. You felt his erection before he said anything. Rock solid against your back. “You’ve got me so fucking hard. I need to fuck you immediately.” His voice wavered, showing just how turned on he was as well. He couldn’t even keep calm.

You found yourself on your hands and knees again as he pushed you forward, moving in closer to spank your bare ass. You yelped, raising up higher in desperateness. “This fucking ass,” he practically moaned. “You’re asking for it.”

“God, Seokjin,” you breathed, feeling lightheaded.

“Do you want my cock?” He demanded. You nodded, moaning. That wasn’t enough. “Tell me with words, baby.”

“Yesss,” you whined, impatient now. “I want your cock. Give it to me!”

With a growl, you heard him begin to unzip his jeans, and then there was a knock at the door. You both froze, unsure what to do.

“Seokjin? Y/N?”

It was Jungkook. Of course it was.

“Y-yeah?” Seokjin called, stammering as you both rushed into action. You pulled your dress down, flipping to sit on your ass. Seokjin stood from the bed, his dick tenting his boxer shorts, sticking out from his undone jeans.

Jungkook tried the doorknob. Your heart stilled even though you knew he couldn’t get in. “Why’s the door locked?” He asked, sounding confused.

“Uhh,” Seokjin looked at you, eyes wide as he tried to think of an explanation. “Uh. Y/N’s still chucking up like crazy so I locked it for some privacy.” His voice shook. He definitely sounded turned on. Idiot. And what the fuck? You were still being sick?!

“Oh.” There was silence. “Was it really those kebabs? I ate quite a lot earlier. I’m worried.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay as quiet as possible. At least Jungkook was oblivious. He hadn’t heard anything, thank god. Like how you’d been begging for Seokjin’s cock not seconds before he’d turned up at the door.

“Nah, I’m sure she’s just drunk,” Seokjin assured. You threw daggers his way.

“Do you want me to take over?” Jungkook suggested. “Look out for her? You’re missing the party.” Christ, what were you, a baby? “I saw Ana and Yoongi making their way upstairs, so.”

Oh my god, you hadn’t! Anyone could have walked upstairs and heard you both. You’d let pleasure get in the way of your rationality. It was all Seokjin’s fault!

“No, it’s fine,” Seokjin replied, relaxed now as he sat back on the bed. His boxers were still tented. How was he hard at a time like this?! “I feel semi-responsible anyway. I kept encouraging her to do more jelly shots.”

Jungkook sniggered. “She’s going to kill you when she sobers up, man.”

“If she remembers–Ow-ouch!” Yes, you had just reached over and pinched his penis. He wasn’t getting away with talking shit about you, no matter how amazing the orgasm he’d just given you had been.

“What’s up?” Jungkook questioned, sounding concerned.

“I stubbed my fucking toe against the bed.”

“Lame,” he scoffed.

With the silence that followed you stared at Seokjin, mouthing silently and miming with your hands as you told him to get rid of his friend. You’d have the whole party up here in a minute, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Jin?” Jungkook prompted.

Seokjin flew up, rushing to the bathroom to flush the toilet. He shouted out. “Damn, toilet’s flushing, I guess she’s done for the time being. Better go and check on her!”

“Okay.”

“I promise once she passes out I’ll come down!”

Your mouth flew open at the nerve of it. You were going to get your revenge. Asshole.

“Yeah, okay,” Jungkook replied, tapping the door to say goodbye. “Good luck.”

You both waited in excruciating silence as he left, making sure a whole minute had passed so there was no risk of getting heard.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” You seethed, pointing at Seokjin accusingly. “All this just so you can eat some ass.”

“Eat your ass,” he corrected, unbothered by your aggressiveness. “And actually, that was a spur of the moment kinda thing. I didn’t plan it.”

You didn’t believe him. Not for one second. Watching as he rounded the bed, you narrowed your eyes. “What are you doing?”

He was reaching for the top drawer of his nightstand. “Grabbing a condom.”

“Nuh uh. No way,” you shook your head, folding your arms. “You’re not getting your dick wet now.” He was dumb, and how was he still hard??

“What do you mean?” He asked, affronted.

“Just get downstairs to your party.” You sighed. “It’s time for me to ‘pass out’.”

By the look on his face he immediately knew how he’d fucked up. It was pretty comical. You had one final demand for him as he stood there in shock. “Give me the TV remote on your way out.”

Ahh, revenge was definitely sweet.

#seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh #final sleigh:drabbles

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hayleysayshay · 3 years

Text

On Wu’s backstory:

Wu is a character many people find annoying, but I enjoy. His backstory is vague at best. Here is what we know.

Wu is the grand nephew of Hou-Ting. He is the only heir to the throne.

At some point he moved to Republic City. Commentary implies that he was there doing a degree

At some point Mako was made his bodyguard. Commentary implies that Mako was his bodyguard for the three years.

The canon status of all commentary is debatable. As far as I see it, the show is true canon, the only reason we take the commentary as canon is because nothing contradicts it, but it is particularly substantial.

So, let’s analyse this backstory. This is all my personal opinion and headcanon and based upon what I find interesting and what fits Wu’s character as we see it in Book 4.

Was there a Royal Family massacre and is Wu traumatised?

We don’t see any other family members than Hou-Ting in Book 3. In Book 4, we are introduced to Wu, and only Wu. He is the heir to the throne.

At the end of book 3, Ba Sing Se falls to a the angry citizens of Ba Sing Se. We do see them enter the palace. They are seen looting and burning.

So, did this mob murder the rest of the Royal Family? Wu is the only heir. He is the grand nephew. This implies both his parents and grandparents are dead. What happened to them? They all must have died fairly young if Wu is the heir as a twenty something in Book 4.

I believe this is the basis of the ‘royal family massacre’ argument. Wu is too young to be the only heir to the throne. And the mob were angry. Therefore, the heirs above Wu were killed.

Now to be clear: the real reason Wu is a young heir is because Bryke wanted someone young for Mako to bounce off of. He’s around the same age as Mako but has a completely different life to him. Wu is not serious whereas Mako is. Wu is flippant and Mako is serious. Wu is extroverted and Mako is introverted. Wu is rich, Mako is not. This contrast is more fun if they’re the same age.

I say this because I think it’s clear that Wu was created with no clear trauma in mind. Wu does not act especially scared, or traumatised by the past. He is cautious and scared of hearing of Hou-Ting’s death, but acts in a comedic manner (fake strangling sounds) but then resumes a proper mourning action (may she rest in piece). Wu acts fairly silly throughout the series, enjoys the attention from fans, and even towards the end he creates a plan that he hopes will gain him attention from Korra. Wu is breezy and flippant and shallow, only really maturing towards the end and appears to be genuinely committed to dismantling the monarchy.

The trauma seen in fan works is a result of fan expansions, and personally I don’t really see it having a strong basis in the show. Wu is never really shown to be scared, or withdrawn at any points. Wu is never shown to be angry at the local populace who killed his family, as although Wu is shallow he never treats anyone badly. So is he masking? That’s totally up to your interpretation. Wu could be burying all his negative emotions and is acting out to hide his trauma. This is perfectly plausible. Personally, the lack of anger is what slightly damns this interpretation for me, I’m sure he’d show something.

Also I don’t think Wu not being fully prepared to take the throne is unreasonable— it makes sense if he was going to finish his education before starting public duties and gaining more political experience. And he could have made public experiences but still be fairly shallow. It’s implied that the Dai Li have a great degree of power so Wu not taking things that seriously or having a lot of experience is perfectly reasonable: it’s not needed for him to do so. So no, I don’t think Wu being the primary heir to the throne has to be sudden and unexpected because Wu isn’t very well prepared or serious.

How Old is Wu?

If you take the idea that he was in Republic City doing a degree when Hou-Ting was murdered, he could have been eighteen at the time, and twenty-one by the time of Book 4. He could be older. He could have started the degree at a younger age however, so he could even be nineteen at the start of Book 4.

If you ignore the idea that Wu was in Republic City prior to Book 3, and only came to Republic City to be safe after the Queen’s death, he could he even younger, potentially around eighteen in Book 4 if you HC him as young, but he could also still be older than Mako. Basically nothing confirmed, but I think it does depend on how seriously you take the commentary about the degree.

Have Wu and Mako worked together for three years?

This is going to be my strongest opinion, but I don’t think their relationship makes much sense if they’ve known eachother for three years.

I feel like this was meant to explain what Mako was doing for three years, but Mako doing his job as a detective was enough. So I don’t think it was needed.

In the episode where Wu’s coronation is ruined, Wu has a breakdown. Mako asks why he even wants to be King. He apologises, and Wu says that ‘no-one ever spoke to him like that’.

No-one has ever spoken to Wu like, even Mako. For three years? I don’t buy it. Mako is professional but he does talk back to Wu. Mako doesn’t think Wu is deserving of power just because he was born into it. I can’t believe Mako would his tongue on Wu for three years.

Also, I think Wu and Mako have a nice arc over Book 4. They get to know each-other more deeply. Mako sees the more mature side of Wu. I just don’t get the impression that they really knew each other that well beforehand, and I think you’d learn more about each other if you were together 24/7 for three years.

Obviously a lot of fan works expand on this and make the whole three years together thing make sense (by making them fuck usually and then having ensuing drama), but my critique is that I often think this over explains Wu’s character and ignores the very real shallowness Wu does show in early Book 4 by making It doesn’t meant I don’t love these fics, but I just don’t really ever reconcile them with the version of Wu we see in the show.

What I headcanon.

Again, this is literally just headcanon, and the events have no real confirmation in canon, it’s just what I think is both interesting and what I think matches with Wu’s characterisation in the show, whilst also giving him a backstory and more depth.

Wu’s grandparent and heir to the throne had one child, who became Wu’s father. This grandparent and heir dies. This grandparent dies young.

Wu’s parent’s were married. It was a political arrangement as Wu’s mother was from a rich family. Their marriage is strained. They have one child, Wu and don’t really talk to eachother much. Wu’s Dad dies young from partying too hard. Wu is left the only heir.

Wu’s mother remarries a wealthy baron or something. Because of not doing widowhood properly she is not welcome at the palace and moves away from Ba Sing Se. She and Wu have a strained relationship, since she never really wanted Wu in the first place. They sometimes exchange letters. (This could be swapped for his father and his mother was the heir but honestly I just wanted a strained relationship with a maternal figure. She got her happy ending but not with Wu).

Wu and Queen Hou-Ting have a very strained relationship as Hou Ting considers him weak, and despises animals which Wu loves.

Wu ends up with no real close familial relationship and is used to never really caring about anything. He is very isolated and is mostly raised by Dai-Li appointed carers.

At twenty ish Wu decides he wants out and asks to study in Republic City. The Queen is against this but Wu is insistent and she sees it as an excuse to get him out of her hair.

Wu moved to Republic City. After the fall of the walls, the Dai Li are in disarray as much of the leadership flees the city. Wu was previously appointed Dai Li bodyguards but Republic City officials replace them with city appointed bodyguards instead to maintain order. Unsure of how to proceed with Wu, Raiko and the other leaders agree that Wu shall complete his degree whilst Kuvira restores order. Wu is rarely included in meetings that decide the Earth Kingdom’s policy because they don’t like him and everyone just accepts he will be a King supported by his advisors and won’t rule himself.

Wu is of course horrified but he has a lack of personal stake in the death of his great aunt other than the realisation that he is now under a lot of pressure, which Wu mostly just ignores.

Wu completed his degree. After this, he begins to move into the public sphere and begins to make public appearances. Instead of a rotating team of bodyguards he requests a personal one, Mako, because he saw him a newspaper and thought he was hot really cool. This happens around six months before Republic City.

Mako treats Wu as a job, but the events of Book 4 eventually push them to become better friends and get to know eachother. Wu matures What happens next is either comics canon or my own ideas.

This is complete headcanon and I expect some people disagree! Hope it makes sense.

#wuko #Prince wu #mako #legend of korra #tlok #lok #avatar

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