#sometimes we need a reminder that English isn’t the only language

[annabelinlove]

No Games (pt.2)

Pairing: Wolfstar x reader (Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Reader)

Summary: The aftermath of the attack

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, past description on violence, non sexual nudity, language, English isn’t my first language, no use of Y/n, Peter doesn’t exist

Readers note: You wanted part 2, so here it is! I’m sorry for the rushed ending but i have another thing planned and i really wanted to post this on. Lmk if you like it. Read part 1, if you haven’t already and checkout my masterlist. Every kind word is appreciated. Enjoy!

Pt. 1

Masterlist

You’ve spent the whole week at the infirmary and not even for a second were you alone. You had no idea how they did it, but your friends and boyfriends kept your company even thought you were sure they had classes they ought to attend. Whenever you tried to bring it up, they just shushed you and told you it was dealt with. You didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and weren’t even sure if it really was dealt with, but you were glad for the company so you decided to let it go. Regulus himself sent you a card telling you he hoped you’ll recover soon but you were yet to talk to him. You brought it up carefully when you were alone with Sirius, you knew his family was a sensitive topic for him.

“Have you talked to Regulus?” You asked, looking at your beautiful boyfriend who was working on his Herbology essay, his legs on your bed. He looked up from his work and smiled gently.

“Yeah, we met yesterday at the Tower, talked the whole night. That reminds me, he wishes you the best but said he’ll talk to you when you’re out of here, if you’re still up for it.”

He didn’t tell you the details of their conversation, but the small smile present on fis handsome face told you everything you needed to know, so you didn’t bring it up again. You’ve received many get well soon cards, some of them from students you didn’t even know at it warmed your heart. Even Marlene and Mary came to visit you. The whole day you spent with your friends and Madam Pomfrey and at the night, you always shared the bed with your boyfriends, who left in the morning to go to classes but still came back after few hours and this cycle repeated itself for the whole time you were in the hospital wing. It made you forget about the main reason you were even here and considering all odds, you were quite happy in your bubble. When Sunday came, Poppy told you that you were free to go but take it easy, which meant no quidditch and pranks, and to come back Monday evening for her to check you up again. Most of your wounds were healed and the bruises were barely visible, but still, some of them took longer to heal. One wound in particular, the one on your side, was pretty nasty and sometimes still bled a bit. It was sure to say you were glad to finally leave the infirmary.

“You’re ready, pet?” Asked Sirius as he took your bad, with all the cards and sweets that people sent you in his hands, and watched Remus, who was tying up your shoes. You told him you were perfectly fine to do it yourself, but he just waved his hand and kneeled in front of you. Why would you when I can? was his only response.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You smiled at him and hopped off the bed, taking Remus’s hand as all three of you left the hospital wing. But as soon as you walked down the corridor to your common room, the reality hit you and you stopped to take a deep breath. What if it happens again? What if they pick on someone else? What would happen if Regulus hadn’t come? I’d probably die. The boys must have noticed your sudden panic and stopped as well. Siris stood in front of you and put his hands on your cheeks to make you look up at him. His gaze was soft and full of love.

“I know it’s scary right now, but nothing like that is ever gonna happen again, do you trust me? Do you trust us to protect you?” He asked softly, not breaking eye contact so you knew he was serious. Remus squeezed your hand, to reassure you in your own way. Your timid nod didn’t seem to please them.

“Words, angel. Do you trust us to protect you?” Remus prodded and your eyes shifted to his honey ones.

“I do, with my life.” You responded verbally now, which seemed to please them, as you all continued walking to the portrait, one boy at either of your side. Once in the common room, all of your friends were already there a big barel welcome back hung from the chandelier and you genuinely smiled as they all gave you a big and long hug.

“Now, now, don’t smother our girl.” Remus protectively pulled you to sit on his lap as he sat on the couch and buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. “She must be used to it, dating the two of you.” James stuck his tongue out at him playfully and they started to bicker. You felt like you were finally home. With your friends all around you, in the middle of the loves of your life, both of them touching you at all times, you were happy. This is where I belong, you thought. The rest of the day was spent talking, laughing and playing wizarding chess or exploding snap.

“Alright, its time for dinner kids, lets go.” Lily decided, standing up and ordering everybody around like the mum of the group. Your whole body seemed to freeze at that. The thought of leaving you little bubble of happiness to go to the Great Hall was more then unsettling for you.

“Go without us, we’ll just hang in here. Would you mind bringing us something?” Remus spoke up, obviously noticing your sudden anxious state. You both loved and hated how they could read you and knew you like the back of their hands. Nothing would get past them. James nodded before running after Marlene, probably to discuss the upcoming quidditch match. Lily sent you an understanding smile before waving at you and leaving the common room.

“Thanks, I’m just not ready to face them, yet.” You uttered, feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to us. Anything to make you feel the most comfortable, always.” Sirius was quick to argue and attacked your face with small, wet kisses. You laughed as you tried to get away from him. However, during your wiggling around, you accidentally pushed on your sore side and a sharp pain ran through your body. You let out a groan and the boy stopped quickly and distanced himself from you.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry if I hurt you, darling.” He was quick to speak, looking you up and down to spot any wound reopening and bleeding. You placed your hand on his cheek and smiled.

“It’s okay, just my stupid side. You didn’t do anything, I must have moved wrong or something. It’s fine.” You tried to assure him, but he still looked worried. Remus decided to step in and stood up, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Why don’t we go back to our dorm, hm? You could take a warm bath and relax as we wait for James to bring us something to eat. Then we can cuddle, how does that sound, my loves?” The idea of hot bath has already calmed you and you were quick to take his hand and get up. “Sounds like heaven.” You gave him a kiss and you all went to your dorm.

Well, it was their dorm, but you spent all of your time there anyway. You had your things there and to be honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you slept with the girls in your own dorm. James didn’t mind and claimed he was happy to have someone who’d help him deal with the two idiots. Once inside, Remus drew you a warm bath and even added some bubbles for you. It was nothing like the prefect bathroom, where you sometimes sneaked in with you boyfriends, but at that moment, it was perfect. You slowly undressed, with Sirius helping you, and softly kissing every new scar and unhealed bruise. You daren’t look into the mirror, terrified what you’d see, but right then and there, you felt loved, bare in front of your boys who stared at you with nothing but love in their eyes. Sirius helped you into the bathtub and you let out a content sigh when you sank into the hot water. Remus kissed your forehead and took Sirius’s hand, as they went to leave you alone.

“Stay.” You whispered, giving them your best puppy eyes, that Sirius taught you. Without another word, they both sat next to your bathtub, and you were finally able to relax, feeling every single muscle loosening after what felt like ages. You were all silent as Remus laid his hands on the edge of the tub and rested his hands on top of them, Sirius resting his head on his shoulder. You had no idea how much time has passed, all of you just enjoying the quiet time together, but it was interrupted by James, who poked his head inside the bathroom.

“Y’all good?” At the disturbance, Sirius quickly threw a bottle of shampoo on his head.

“Oi! Get out and stop ogling my naked girlfriend!” He shouted at his friend who put up his hands in surrender. James couldn’t have seen anything, as you were covered in bubbles but your boyfriend’s protectiveness mage you laugh a little.

“It ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.” He joked before quickly shutting the door as Sirius got up with the intention to punch him. You laughed at that, remembering the few times when you walked out of the bathroom naked, thinking you were alone in the dorm, with James sitting on his bed or him walking into the bathroom when you were showering. Not to mention that all of your friends went skinny dipping into the Black Lake.

“I’m kidding, sorry! Just wanted to know if you’re okay since you’ve been silent for the whole 20 minutes I’ve been here.” He said behind the closed door. At that, Remus put his hand into the bath which has gotten cold already. “Alright, let’s get you out, the water is freezing and you need to eat something.”

Sirius washed your hair as Remus went to get some clothes for you as well as a new bandage and some ointment. After drying you up, he carefully rubbed in on the wounds and bruises as well as some pink scars. You mustered up the courage to look at yourself in the mirror and sucked in a breath. You looked much worse than you thought. Even after almost a full week of being at the infirmary, unhealed scratches could be seen all over your body, numerous of bruises and scars, some bigger then other, keeping them company. Your cheeks were hollowed, and you had dark circles under your eyes. You also looked thinner. Sirius quickly stepped in front of you when he saw the disgusted look you gave yourself in the mirror.

“Hey,” he said as he put some hair behind your ear, “you’re beautiful.”

The smile you gave him was genuine and you stopped thinking about it as he kissed you passionately. They dressed you in some sweatpants and shirt, none of which were yours. When you emerged from the bathroom, you realized that James has already prepared the food on Sirius’s bed, which was the biggest of them all, thanks to a single spell, since the three of you slept on it every single night. You settled comfortably on the bed, under the covers with the boys around you and contently started eating.

“Thank you, Jamie.” You thanked him with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were, but it was really no surprise since Poppy fed you mostly soups from various of herbs to help you heal.

“Anytime, sunshine.” He winked at you and started a calm conversation. Mostly between the boys, since you were too busy eating. After dinner, Sirius sat behind you and without a word started to braid your still wet hair. It was your routine, doing each others hair, sometimes Remus’ as well, if he had them long enough. When he was done, you all bid good night to James and laid on the bed.

“Would you read to us Moony?” Sirius asked sweetly, pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you in any way. Remus pulled out his book, The Lord of the Rings, and his calm voice filled the silence. You nuzzled yourself closer to him and quickly fell asleep, his voice fading away in the background.

You were running away from someone, you didn’t know who, but knew they were dangerous. You were in some dark place, when someone pushed you to the ground.

“This is what you fucking deserve, filthy bitch!” The unknown person spat at you as he hit you, pain erupting immediately all over your face. You were suddenly on the floor and someone was kicking you over and over again. Your hands tied so you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself. You screamed for help but an evil laugh was the only thing heard. “Shh, we’re just playing.” And another blow, now into your head. You felt like you were under water and running out of air, not being able to breathe.

“Hey, hey, wake up. It’s okay.”

Unknown hands shook you, but you saw only silhouettes, and green flashes of lights. Suddenly, you had a wand at your neck. You tried to pull away, but couldn’t. The wand suddenly slashed your throat.

“C’mon, wake up darling.”

You sat up quickly in your bed, gasping for breath as your hands flew to your throat. You’re safe, your in your dorm with your boys. It was only a dream. You were shaking like a leaf, only now just realizing that someone was talking to you.

“Breath for me, angel. It’s okay, we’re here. You’re here, you’re in our dorm, with me and Moony, you’re safe. Just keep on breathing for me, please.” You concentrated on Sirius’ words, slowly calming your breath.

“I’m gonna touch you, is that okay, my darling?” Remus said in his soft tone, you weren’t able to speak so you tried to nod, but it wasn’t enough for the boys.

“Please, use your words. I know it’s hard, but try, pet.” You croaked a yes, which seemed to satisfy him and he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle, yet firm embrace. Sirius handed you a glass of water you didn’t even see him get it. You gulped the water like your life depended on it.

“It was just a bad dream, my love. You’re okay.” You were able to calm down, but was still shaking lightly in Remus’ arms.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He whispered as he kept on rubbing small circles on your back. You took a deep breath, trying to remember the dream but it was all hazy.

“I-I was in some dark room or something and someone kept on hurting me. And then-then..” you were interrupted by your own sobs but tried to pull it together to finish “then a wand slashed my throat and I couldn’t breathe.” You cried into his shoulder. Sirius took your hand in is and placed it where your heart is.

“Do you feel that?” He patiently waited for you to nod before continuing, “that’s your heart and it’s beating. It means you’re alive and breathing, my love. It was just a nightmare. Take a deep breath, because you can, baby. It’s okay.”

You felt your heartbeat and started to slow down your breathing, the shaking stopped as did the tears. You pulled out of Remus’ hug and looked at them sheepishly.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You just now noticed the darkness of the room and heard James’ loud snores. You swore he would sleep through an earthquake.

“You have nothing to apologize for, angel. We knew the nightmares would come sooner or later.” Remus soothed your worry but his words confused you and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Well, at the infirmary, Poppy gave you a sleeping draught every night so you could sleep peacefully, but you didn’t take any tonight. I was just kinda counting on it. It makes sense after what happened.” You froze at his words, you didn’t even think about that.

“Oh, I’ll go and get it tomorrow then.” You sighed, fatigued overtaking of your body.

“No, pet. I know its hard and the nightmares are terrible. Trust me, I know, but you can’t take it for such a long time, it could really mess you up.” Sirius looked at you apologetic, feeling bad for crushing your vision for peaceful sleep.

Your whole face fell down and you looked close to tears again. “But I don’t wanna have a nightmare every night.” You uttered, looking at your hands, picking at your nails.

“And you won’t! Me and Pads will do everything in our power to help you with them, just not through medications, okay?” Remus was quick to reassure you, taking your hand in his so you would stop picking at your nails before they started to bleed. You were too tired to fight with them, so you sighed a small yes and let them lay you on the bed again, squeezed in between them.

“Moony’s gonna read to us again, until you fall asleep, okay?” Sirius said and kissed your nose, but you were quick to protest. “No, I don’t want to keep you up for no reason, you shouldn’t stay away just because I can’t sleep.”

Remus gave you almost a bored look but still looked at you lovingly. “Hey, none of that, darling. Anything to help you. Plus, I ended at quite an interesting chapter, so I’m curious what’s gonna happen next.” And with that, he picked up the book and started to read, just like few hours ago. And just like few hours ago, you feel asleep.

The next time you woke up, it was by Sirius who was leaving wet kisses all over your face. “Wakey, wakey. We need to get ready for classes.” He whispered but still continued to kiss your face. It was Remus, who ushered both of you to the bathroom to clean up (and redress your wounds, of course) and soon enough, you were on your way to the Great Hall for breakfast with your friends.

Everybody was chatting with you the whole time, to help you ease your nervousness, and you were immensely grateful for them all. You stopped in front of the huge door to the Hall, but before you could start to think too much about things, Remus took your hand and Sirius screamed your name to gain your attention.

“Look, look! This is how to make someone your peasant.” And before you, or anyone really, processed his words, he jumped on James’ back, held tight with one hand, the other high in the air as he started screaming loudly. “Go, my slave. Take me to my fine breakfast and DO NOT DROP ME!”

James wasn’t even complaining, pretty used to his theatrics and he ran straight to their places, making a huge scene with Sirius. All of them laughed at their silliness and before you knew it, you were sat at the table, with your back to the Slytherins, and started to eat. All of your friends were distracting you with jokes and you were smiling the whole time. Sirius was still ordering James around and he did everything the long haired boy asked.

“Pass me the juice.”

“Of course, my lord. Is there anything else I could aide you with? Your wish is my command.”

After breakfast, Remus took your backpack and you walked hand in hand to your class. Sirius was, of course, riding on James’ back to the class.You were thankful that you shared Charms, your first class, with your boyfriends, as well as Lily. The worst part was, that the Slytherins were taking Charms as well. Sirius got off James’ back before the classroom and looked you deep in the eyes.

“Listen, and listen to me closely, pet. Me and Remmy are gonna be with you the whole time. There’s not gonna be a second when one of us isn’t close to you, okay? It’s gonna be okay, you’ll be fine and we’ll be always by your side.” He reassured you and you smiled at his thoughtfulness to calm you down. You took a deep breath and Remus squeezed your hand in support. You nodded that you were ready and you entered the classroom. You didn’t look around, your gaze set on your desk. Sirius and Remus were on both your sides, squashing you in between them.

Remus still hasn’t let go of your hand as you squeezed it tightly when you felt the hairs on your neck rising. Snape and Mulicber were here. You didn’t dare to move a muscle, your body in a trance, too scared to even breathe. Both of your boys noticed and they tried to talk to you and joked around to make you smile, but you weren’t able to concentrate on them. You didn’t even notice when the class started, nor did you registered that it has finished. You could feel their eyes on you, the whole time. You knew that Snape was staring at the back of your head, his eyes sending daggers your way, but you were too afraid to look back. To look at him, them.

Sirius had to nudge you that the class was over and you had to go to the other one. You felt like you were sleepwalking as they took your things and led you out of the classroom. But you froze in your tracks as you heard the cold laugh behind you. You knew it was Mulciber.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you at school and not the graveyard.” He snickered but before you could do as much as blink, you heard a loud bang from behind you. You turned ground quickly, waiting for some king of danger coming your way, but were met with Sirius pinning him to the wall, his wand at his neck and hand holding his chest so he couldn’t move.

You saw as Snape took out his wand, but Remus casted a quick Expelliarmus and his wand flew out of his hand and his reach. He was stood protectively in front of you, his wand aimed at Snape as Sirius hold Mulciber. You didn’t even know how any of that happened, if was all too quick.

“Say another word to her, I dare you. Let’s see who will be buried six feet under.” Sirius seethed, his voice low and dangerous. You’ve never heard him use this tone.

“You’ve got bodyguards now, heh?” Snivellus snickered at you but not moving an inch. Before any of you could say or do anything, Lily appeared out of thin air and hit him square in the face. Snape fell to the ground, holding his bleeding nose and looking up at her in surprise.

“If you ever come close to her, I will hurt you. And I fucking mean it, Severus. I don’t know what happened to you but it gives you no right to act like an asshole. You are nothing but a fucking scam and dirt. Don’t come close to her or any of us, never again.” She told him, her voice cold and face blank of any emotions. You have never heard Lily use so many swear words in your life, let alone in one sentence.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mulciber trying to get out of Sirius’ gasp and Remus was ready to send some hex his way, but you stopped him as you laid your slightly shaking hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” You said quietly but strongly. He stopped and looked at you, his wand still aiming at his enemy.

“Don’t be like them. Let them go, karma will get them soon and better then us.” I said loudly, for all of them to hear me. Remus’ gaze softened but his wand still raised high.

You could hear Sirius growl, not moving an inch, so you walked up to him and took his hand with his wand an out it down. He looked unsure, but wasn’t fighting your touch. You looked deep inside Mulciber’s eyes and when he open his mouth to say something, you spat at him. You could hear Lily gasp, but you didn’t care as you turned around and walked away with your head held high.Remus, Lily and Sirius quickly caught up with you, your raven boyfriends taking your waist and spinning you in the air.

“That’s my fucking girl! You shoved them who has the power!” He hollered, and you laughed. When he set you down, both he and Remus hugged you tightly and you felt the weight lifting off your shoulders.

“That was brilliant, my sweet girl. I’m so so proud of you.” Remus beamed with pride, kissing the top of your head. “I could never do it without you. Thank you, for everything.” You squeezed their arms and quickly went to hug Lily as well.

“That must have been hard for you, I know you two used to be close.” You whispered into her ears. She sighed and let you go, looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, used to. Before he turned out to be such a prick. But I won’t hesitate to protect you from him, or anyone else, no matter what.” She gave you a kind and sincere smile and you knew she meant it.

As you walked down the corridor, with Sirius and Remus nonstop praising you, you felt lighter. You knew it wasn’t the end. The wounds were yet to be healed, the physical ones as well as emotional ones, and the war was far from the end, but you knew you could do it.

With your boyfriends and friends by your side, you were unstoppable.

——————-

Tag list: @quackitysdrugdealer @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @oweninadaydream @noodlesareokah @wings-of-tranquility @oweninadaydream @leafpagesingfan

#marauders era #harry potter #marauders fluff #marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x you #the marauders #fluff #marauders x reader #Wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x you #angst #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x sirius x reader #angst to fluff #wolfstar angst #hurt to comfort #poly!marauders #poly!marauders fluff

[aestherians]

Defining Paratypes - Once and For All

Word count: ~1450 Estimated reading time: 10-12 minutes

1. Introduction

Language is a funny thing, huh?

In June 2018 I erroneously coined the word “cameotype” — English is my 2nd language and I’ve picked up a lot of words by just noting in which contexts they’re used and then never looking them up in the dictionary. Usually this works, sometimes it doesn’t. I thought a cameo meant an addition, something secondary, or something along those lines. When people discussed cameo-shifts, I knew they were discussing brief, temporary shifts, but it was only after coming up with this word that I realized what “cameo” actually means: A minor role.

That’s absolutely not the meaning I was going for when I made up the word “cameotype,” and I backtracked as soon as I realized my mistake. But I still needed a word to cover that concept I’d originally intended for “cameotype” to cover — to quote my original post: “You know those characters, animals, and so on that make you feel all shifty but aren’t technically kintypes or [hearttypes], yet are still important enough to your therian/’kin experience that you feel like mentioning them somehow?”

In March 2019 I finally shared a follow-up post where I suggested a few alternatives: Paratype (from para-/beside), fratertype/fratype (from frater-/sibling), and sintype (from sin-/together), all of which better describe the concept I was going for. My Anglophonic readers helpfully pointed out that the latter two words sound weird in English, and “paratype” ended up being the most popular word.

And then I never made another follow-up post.

2. An Ill-Defined Definition

I’m not sure why I never wrote a concise definition but in hindsight I’m glad I didn’t. It allowed for 4 years of input and discussion of the term and its scope. Originally, I wanted it to be very broad, covering “anything that doesn’t fit neatly into the established [alterhuman] categories but is still important to your nonhuman identity,” and I thank the gods that that didn’t become the go-to definition. It’s too poorly defined to be useful, and the broadness I was going for is already covered by synpath and vaguetype.

It did, however, end up with a not-much-better definition in Kiera’s Alterhuman Dictionary: “A character, animal, or mythical creature that is not a kin/therio/fictotype or a hearttype, but somehow feels important to your established identity. Some examples of how it may manifest include: inducing shifts of one or more of your established ‘types, showing up as a cameo shift that somehow feels related to your established ‘type, or feeling similar to a hearttype because they remind you of your kintype in some significant way.”

I never got around to asking Kiera to change that definition.

3. Covering all bases

Like I said, I’m glad I ended up waiting so long to write this essay, even if it wasn’t intentional. It allowed me to see a lot of perspectives that I wouldn’t even have considered on my own.

First of all, how do you know if something’s a paratype or something else? After all, it’s possible to have two kintypes that are extremely similar, like two species from the same genus, or two characters who fit the same archetype. If they feel obviously connected, how do you determine if one of them is a paratype or something else? The annoying answer is that you don’t — not really. Alterhumanity isn’t a hard science, we can’t run calculations to determine which identity facets fit into which categories. All our jargon should be opt-in, not something you feel forced to use because you fit a dictionary definition. If your kintype is a labradoodle and you later learn that goldendoodles exist, and you feel like you’re a goldendoodle concurrently with your labradoodle kintype, you can choose to call the goldendoodle a paratype, a kintype, both, or neither. “Paratype” is an opt-in category (no one is forced to use it) and it’s not an exclusive category (if something’s a paratype that doesn’t mean it can’t simultaneously be another kind of ‘type too).

The only requirement for something to be a paratype is that it has an associated identity. It doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s always an offshoot of something else. I was a bit wishy-washy about this at first since I was more attached to the “it feels like a hearttype/kintype/something else, but it’s not” part of the concept than the “it feels that way because it’s connected to your preestablished identity” part. But no, no matter how a paratype presents itself, or what the experience of it is, it’s defined by its origin: If your paratype-like feelings don’t exist because of another identity facet, it’s not a paratype.

Paratypes are not defined by their origins in the same way that some folks try to define kintypes - whether a paratype is psychological, spiritual, or something else is irrelevant. A paratype can be a quirk of the brain just as well as it can be a past life. As long as the paratype/your connection to the paratype is an offshoot/extension of a preestablished identity, it counts.

The example I’ve used most often to get the idea across is that I am a bison, and because I’m a bison it’s only natural that I feel a connection to domestic bulls. This connection does feel like a hearttype. Unrelated, I am also unicornhearted. The difference comes down to whether I can separate my otherhearted feelings from other parts of my identity. If I can (like with unicorns), I call it a hearttype. If I can’t (like with bulls) it’s a paratype. It’s definitely splitting hairs, but the distinction is valuable to me.

I did get a question once, asking if a paratype had to be an offshoot of an alterhuman identity, or if it could be connected to a gender identity or a disability. I had not considered that possibility, but I gave it a tentative yes. Especially in light of Mord’s “Alterhumanity is Queer” essay, queerness and alterhumanity is not something I want to split hairs about. If you feel connected to dogs because of your gender, or cats because of your disability, and you want to refer to those connections as paratypes, I’m not gonna stop you. More power to you!

It's also worth noting that throughout this essay I have been using animals as examples, but “paratype” is by no means limited to therianthropic/animalhearted identities. Plantfolk, fictionfolk, objectkin, conceptkin, and factualkin can all use it if they want, and the term can be used for any identity category, from kintypes and hearttypes to headmates and past lives to constels and linktypes. It can even be used for paratypes - in theory, a paratype can have a paratype can have a paratype, ad infinitum. Personally, I’m spiderhearted and as a result I feel strongly connected to other arachnids, including ticks, and as I feel connected to ticks, I feel connected to other ectoparasites, like mosquitoes and lice.

A paratype can have any kind of connection to your preestablished ‘type. I use the bison <-> bull example often because it’s an easy way to explain the concept, but other examples may include a lion therian whose paratype is gazelles, a reptile with a sun paratype, a rabbit with a hawk paratype, a robot with a glitch paratype, a mushroom with a tree paratype, a werewolf with a silver paratype, and I could go on. Even something like a lost love from another life or an entire universe could be categorized as a paratype if you wish to do so.

You can also get noemata from a paratype, or only have one specific version of a species/object/character be your paratype. A paratype can be as vague as it can be specific - it can be every single type of dragon ever, or it can be a specific interpretation of a specific dragon species from a specific book. Essentially, you can have any kind of alterhuman experience be classified as a “paratype” as long as it meets the “offshoot/extension of a preestablished identity” criterion - which led to the excellent essay “How a hearttype gave birth to a parallel life of a paratype - a view on the connection between spiritual and psychological roots for otherkinity” which I implore you to read - but not before you’ve finished the final section:

4. A definition - finally!

paratype, plural paratypes (noun) From para- (prefix): beside, alongside, related to; and type (noun): a particular kind, class, or group

1. (biology) a specimen of a type series other than the holotype 2. (biology) the environmental component of a phenotype 3. (alterhuman community slang) an identity facet that only exists in relation to a preestablished identity

#paratype #otherkin #otherkind #therian #therianthropy #otherhearted #alterhuman #plurality #otherlink #nonhuman

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 21/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 3377

A/N: This is part 21 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, the tumult of emotions swirling within you threatened to overwhelm you. Jay's presence in your life had brought moments of joy and comfort, but now faced with the prospect of intimacy, you found yourself grappling with feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

Your mind wandered back to Ben, his absence palpable yet his memory hauntingly present. Could you truly move forward with someone else, knowing the lingering shadow of Ben hung over you?

The sound of Jay's voice outside the bathroom door broke through your reverie, a reminder of the present moment and the person waiting on the other side. Part of you longed to confide in him, to share the inner turmoil consuming you, but another part hesitated, fearing his reaction and the potential fallout of your honesty.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?". His tone was gentle, laced with concern. "You seem… off. Is there something you want to talk about?".

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Jay's genuine concern only served to amplify the turmoil within you. How could you explain the maelstrom of emotions churning inside your chest without delving into the depths of your past?

"I'm… I'm fine", you replied, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just… dealing with some things".

There was a moment of silence before Jay spoke again, his tone softer now, filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you".

His words tugged at something deep within you, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

"I know", you murmured. "I just… need some time to sort things out".

You stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes red.

"C´mere", he whispered.

Feeling Jay’s arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, you let out a shaky breath, momentarily finding solace in his warmth. But his next words shattered the fragile calm that had settled over you.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling”, Jay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held you close. “It’s like… I’m all in, you know? But sometimes it feels like you’re… not as committed to this as I am. I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like you don't really want the whole thing”.

His words hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface of your relationship. You swallowed hard, the guilt of withholding your true feelings threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice tinged with regret. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s just… complicated”.

Jay pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours for answers. “Complicated how?”, he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes urged you to be honest.

“There’s… someone else”, you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Was someone else, I… I don´t know. It´s someone from my… past, I guess. And I… I’m still trying to figure out what that means for me… for us”.

Jay’s expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “I see”, he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “I guess I always knew there was something more”.

You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea for understanding. “It’s not that I don’t care about you”, you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s just… complicated”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your confession hanging heavily between you.

Feeling Jay’s gaze fixed on you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share a glimpse of the tangled web that had ensnared your heart.

“We had… a connection, a deep one. But things didn’t end well”.

Jay listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And now”, you whispered, the words barely “now I’m here, with you. But… but part of me still feels tied to him, to what we had”.

Jay looked down at you, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of compassion and uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're ready for a new relationship?", he asked. "I mean, if part of you still feels tied to him… it's okay to take more time to figure things out".

Your heart ached at his words, the truth of his question hitting you with a force you hadn't anticipated. Were you truly ready to move on, to fully commit to a new relationship?

You shrugged, unable to meet Jay's gaze as a pang of guilt washed over you. "I don't know", you admitted. "I want to be, but… it's hard".

A flicker of hurt crossed Jay's features at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly as he struggled to mask his disappointment. "I understand", he said quietly, though the pain in his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. "I just… I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you… for us".

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to ease the ache you had caused. "I'm sorry", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you".

Jay enveloped you again in a gentle embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of your own indecision. "It's okay", he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "We'll figure it out together, okay?".

And as you clung to him, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on you.

With everything swirling in your mind, you felt as though you were losing yourself in the chaos. The person you once knew, the one who had made promises and believed in love, seemed like a distant memory now.

After letting yourself in with Ben, you were pretending to be someone you weren't. And now, with Jay, you had thrown yourself into a new relationship, hoping to find solace in his kindness and affection. But in the process, you were hurting him, and the realization cut you to the core.

As Jay held you close, offering comfort and understanding despite the turmoil within you, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at your insides. How could you continue to deceive him, to pretend that everything was fine when you were barely holding yourself together?

More tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in Jay's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging within you. "I don't know who I am anymore", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. "It's okay", he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We'll figure it out together. Just… be honest with me, okay? That's all I ask".

You nodded against his chest.

Jay held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently brushed his hand over your back, soothing the ache that had settled deep within you.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "When was the last time you visited your mom, or your family? Or at least met with some friends?".

His question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the isolation that had gradually encroached upon your life in recent weeks. You thought back, trying to recall the last time you had reached out to anyone outside of your interactions with Jay, but the memory eluded you.

"I… I don't know", you admitted. "It's been a while. I've been so caught up in everything… I guess I lost track of time".

Jay's embrace tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loneliness that had crept into your life unnoticed. "Maybe… maybe it's time to reach out to them. They care about you, you know?".

Again you nodded against his chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

Jay pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Come on", he said softly, his voice tender as he gently pulled away from your embrace. "Let's go back to the living room".

As you settled back onto the couch, Jay wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close as if to reassure himself of your presence. His touch was gentle, yet persistent, as he continued to brush his hand over your arm in a comforting gesture.

With each stroke, a sense of calm washed over you, the weight of your worries momentarily lifted by Jay's unwavering affection. Just like it has been for the last few weeks.

As you nestled into his embrace, Jay let out a soft sigh, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I think… I think you need to figure out your feelings", he murmured, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't want to push you into anything, but… I really like you. And… and I do not want to lose you. Whether as a girlfriend or just a friend".

His admission hung in the air, a vulnerable confession of his own desires and fears. You turned to look at him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze as he continued.

"So maybe… maybe we can take it slow", Jay suggested, his voice tentative yet hopeful. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can just… see where things go".

His words resonated within you, a gentle reminder that healing and growth often came with time and patience. You nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over you as you leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For understanding".

Jay smiled softly, his fingers kept tracing soothing circles on your arm. "Always", he replied. "I'm here for you, no matter what".

In the days that followed, Jay and you spent countless hours talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on a deeper level. His presence became a source of comfort and stability, grounding you in the midst of uncertainty.

With each conversation, you felt pieces of yourself falling back into place, like a puzzle slowly being reassembled. Jay's patience and understanding gave you the space to explore your feelings and rediscover the person you once were.

One day, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and belonging, you suggested visiting the team again. Jay readily agreed, eager to meet the people who had played such a significant role in your life.

After introducing Jay to the others, everyone told you about the latest events, gave you an update on Homelander, and told you what it was like in the executive suite at Vought. Despite the distance and time apart, the bond you shared with them remained as strong as ever.

As the evening stretched on, you found yourselves gathered at a cozy bar with Hughie, Annie and Jay. Annie told you about her temporary leading position at vought.

You listened with admiration as she described the challenges and triumphs of her new role, marveling at her resilience and determination. Despite the pressures she faced, Annie seemed to thrive in the leadership position.

Meanwhile, Jay struck up a conversation with Hughie, the two of them quickly hitting it off. They exchanged stories and shared laughs, bonding over their mutual interests and experiences. You watched with a smile as Jay's easygoing charm drew Hughie out of his shell, the two of them becoming fast friends.

After a while, Annie led you to the bar to get some new drinks, the lively chatter of Hughie and Jay faded into the background, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you waited for the bartender to take your order, Annie leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"So, what's the deal with you and Jay?", she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have to say, I really like him. You've definitely hit a good one".

You smiled weakly, grateful for Annie's support but unable to shake the weight of your own uncertainty. "He's great", you admitted, your voice tinged with hesitation. "But… I'm still trying to figure things out".

Annie nodded in understanding, her expression sympathetic. "I get it", she said softly. "But just know that Jay really cares about you. And if anyone can help you through whatever you're going through, it's him".

You sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know", you murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I just wish things weren't so… complicated".

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“You need to forget about Ben”, she insisted, her tone firm. “He’s not worth your time or your heartache. You have someone amazing right in front of you, someone who genuinely cares about you”.

You nodded, knowing deep down that Annie was right. But as much as you wanted to let go, the pull of your feelings for Ben remained stubbornly strong.

“I know”, you replied softly, your voice filled with resignation. “But it’s not that easy. Ben… he made me feel things no one else ever could, or ever will”.

Annie rolled her eyes, her disdain for Ben evident in the way her lips curled into a frown. “Yeah, well, he was also a huge dick most of the time”, she muttered under her breath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her bluntness. “That’s true”, you admitted with a rueful smile. “But despite everything, there was still something about him…”.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. “But you deserve someone who treats you right”.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I know Ben wasn't always ideal", you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "But he… he literally risked his life for me so many times… We, he, was special. We had something special".

"If there was really something special, he wouldn't have just left", she said bluntly, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

The truth in Annie's words cut deep, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You knew she was right, that Ben's departure had left a gaping hole in your heart that seemed impossible to fill. But despite the pain, a part of you couldn't let go of the memories, the moments of connection and intimacy that had once brought you so much joy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond."But… it's not that simple…".

Annie reached out to you, her touch gentle as she wiped away your tears. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, that's all".

As you walked back to the table with Annie by your side, you couldn't shake the weight of her words echoing in your mind. With a heavy heart, you stole a glance at her, a silent plea for comfort and understanding.

"He didn't even say goodbye", you mumbled, the bitterness of the truth lingering on your tongue.

"He's just an asshole", she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But he… had his reasons", you replied quietly, thinking about russia, though even you weren't entirely convinced by your own words.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she linked her arm with yours. "Maybe", she conceded, her voice softening. "But that doesn't excuse the way he treated you. You deserve better than that".

In the apartment, Butcher, MM and Frenchie sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Frenchie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t like lying to (y/n)”, he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with guilt.

Butcher let out a frustrated groan, his frustration palpable in the air. “If (y/n) knew we had captured Soldier Boy, she’d be on the next flight to free him”, he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness.

MM glanced between his companions, his expression grave. “We can’t risk it”, he said firmly, his voice a quiet reminder of the stakes at hand.

Frenchie let out a frustrated grunt, his unease bubbling to the surface. "If that ever comes out, (y/n) will hate us all", he muttered.

Butcher's jaw tightened at the thought, his frustration boiling over into anger. "She won't find out", he snapped, his tone harsh and uncompromising. "No one is spilling the beans, understand?".

MM nodded in agreement, his expression solemn as he met Butcher's steely gaze. "We'll keep our mouths shut", he affirmed. "He wasn't good for her, Frenchie. He just used her".

But Frenchie shook his head adamantly, his brow furrowed with disagreement. "I don't think so", he interjected, his voice firm with conviction. "I think he really did love her".

Butcher scoffed at Frenchie's assertion, his skepticism evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. "Love? That's a load of rubbish", he retorted, his tone dismissive. "He's a bloody supe, Frenchie. They don't know the first thing about love".

Frenchie bristled at Butcher's words. "Clearly you didn't see the way he looked at her", he countered. "There was something real there, I'm telling you".

MM glanced between Butcher and Frenchie, a troubled expression crossing his features. "Maybe", he conceded reluctantly. "But even if he did love her, it doesn't change the fact that he's a liability now. We can't afford to have him jeopardize us".

Turning back towards Annie, you couldn't shake the nagging question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. "But don't you think it's strange he didn't even say goodbye?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, we were kinda friends, right?".

Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "Friends?", she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "You're for real, (y/n)?".

You flushed slightly, taken aback by Annie's reaction. "Well, maybe not friends exactly," you admitted sheepishly. "But we… we had something".

Until now, you hadn't told anyone how much had actually happened between you and Ben, even if everyone could already guess.

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she shook her head. "I don't know what you had with Ben", she replied, her tone softer now. "But whatever it was, it's over now. You deserve better than someone who would just up and leave without a word".

Despite your best efforts to move forward, being back with the team brought a flood of emotions rushing back, intensifying the ache of missing Ben. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper his name, every familiar face a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared.

You found yourself lost in memories, replaying moments spent with Ben in your mind like a broken record. His absence felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of your reality, a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

And as you navigated through the days, the longing for Ben weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the most joyous moments. Despite the passage of time, the pain of his absence remained raw and unyielding.

And as you struggled to reconcile the past with the present, you couldn't shake the feeling that despite your best efforts, you were still trapped in a cycle of longing and loss.

———————————

A/N: I hope this chapter makes you feel a little better :D There's still so much planned guys, just wait. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher

[riahlynn101]

Just wanted to say how much i appreciate your art and works. You write really, really well, and I’m no expert on that, but yes I can surely say this even as an amateur. You’re able to characterize the ones you write just in point, it’s as if you know them in real life, as if they were your friends or something. Please, keep doing what you do, I’m pretty sure there are a plenty of other people that enjoy your writing as much as I do. It’s so rewarding when I go to bed after a hard day and have one of your one-shots to read, it’s like I’m in another reality. Sorry if that sounds weird, I’m afraid I might sound a little crazy but I really like to encourage people, especially when it’s art related. Your art does touch people! And forgive me for any grammar mistakes, as English isn’t my first language

By the way, if that’s possible and if you would want to, would you ever do an schmelly one-shot about an “only one bed” prompt? It’s my favorite, I’d really like to see how they’d act. I know you don’t write smut, and I don’t want it either, so as long as you’re comfortable writing it, I’d really appreciate it 🥹

(AWWW <33 THANK YOU :D!! I really do appreciate that. I know I say it in a lot of my author’s notes, but I am really, truly grateful for all your guys’ support!!)

Sometimes I worry that my writing is trash. The plot makes no sense, or there are too many grammar mistakes, or the characters are…well….not in character. So, hearing that you like my writing makes me super happy :))

And it’s super kind of you to support/lift up artists and writers. There are too many people in this world that like to tear others down, so kudos to you for continuing to be kind and supportive <33

(And just as a little extra note: I think your English might be better than mine, and I say that as a native English-speaker. I mean that positively :D!! And I 100% guarantee that you write/speak English better than I could write/speak in your language, so take pride in that :))!!)

As for your request……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Word count: 1,417

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping, implied childhood trauma - but both of those things aren't the focal point of the story.

Summary: What do you get when you add a snowstorm, a (nearly) booked out hotel, and Mike and Vanessa needing a room?

Answer - a hotel room with only one bed!

--

Snow as far as the eye can see. It comes down in clusters and catches on the wind, blanketing the ground in white. This isn’t abnormal for this time of year, and usually Mike and his sister waited for the first snowstorm with great anticipation. Her because it means Christmas is right around the corner. And Mike because it reminds him of Christmas’ past. 

This year, however, he’s stuck driving in it. A last-minute trip a few hours away and a surprise blizzard don’t really mix. Maybe if he would have checked the weather channel one more time this could have been avoided.

“We should stop for tonight,” Vanessa says, always the voice of reason (for the most part). “I think I saw a sign for a hotel just up the road.”

Mike squints his eyes, leaning forward. He’s going ten under the speed limit, and that’s the only reason his pile-of-junk car hasn’t slid into the ditch. “Okay, I think I see it.”

Somehow, they make it in one piece into the motel’s tiny parking lot. It’s crowded, and it takes him a solid five minutes to find a spot. Apparently they aren’t the first people to need a room for the night. 

“Do you think they have any rooms available?” Mike asks, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of bearing the cold is already making him chilly. 

Always optimistic, Vanessa smiles. “I’m positive they can squeeze us in somewhere.”

-x-x-x-

“You two are in luck,” the receptionist-the stereotypical midwestern soccer mom-says, looking at her computer screen, “we have one room left.”

Both of them sigh in relief. The idea of trekking back out into the cold was daunting,  and the idea of finding a different hotel is downright scary. 

“We’ll take it,” Vanessa pipes up. 

“Okey-dokey then. I just need you to sign here and date there.” 

As Vanessa signs the logbook, the receptionist passes over a key for the room. “Are you two married?” She asks, conversationally. Though, Mike knows growing up around these types, that she’s just being nosy. 

Vanessa shakes her head. “Oh, uh…no. Just friends.” 

The woman laughs. “That’s what they all say.”

Face turning red, Vanessa scurries away from the desk, keys clutched in her hand. Mike follows behind her, not trusting himself to not glare at the woman. 

They step into the elevator. “You okay?” He asks. 

Vanessa’s face is still red, but she seems otherwise calm. But he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t at least try. She clears her throat, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I’m fine.”

The elevator doors open.

“So, what’s our room number?” 

Vanessa holds the key up. “Uh….says 204. And judging by the positioning of the light, the direction of the wind, and my knowledge of the polar vortex it’s down the hallway to the right.”

He stands there, dumbstruck. “Wow, you actually know our room number from all that?”

She stares at him for a solid minute, not saying anything. “Yep. I definitely didn’t listen to the lady downstairs, and didn’t read the sign right in front of our faces.”

Mike turns slightly, and sure enough there’s a sign directing people to their rooms on the wall. 200-220 to the right and 221-241 to the left.

“Huh,” he says. “Well, I never said I had good reading comprehension skills.”

Vanessa smiles at that, but quickly turns away. “C’mon, I’m really tired.”

Thankfully, the rest of the trip to their room is uneventful. The hotel is eerily quiet, which is weird given that it’s full tonight. But with their luck, the minute they try to get some sleep, everyone and their mother will be causing a ruckus. 

“This is it,” Vanessa says, indicating to a number plate on one of the doors. 

Mike sighs. “Thank god. It’s been a long day.”

The room is pleasantly warm and smells of mothballs. It’s kind of small, not that they were expecting much. A bathroom that lacks a shower or bath, a closet that’s full of cleaning supplies, and a TV stand that lacks an actual television. 

But the thing that gives them pause is none of those things. Instead, it’s the bed in the center of the room. The single bed. 

Single as in only one. 

They stand there in complete silence. Standing and staring. And then, staring some more. 

“Well…” Mike starts, “I can…take the floor.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No, the floor’s probably filthy. I’ll take the chair over there, and you take the bed.”

He scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, you paid for this room. So, you get to sleep in the bed.”

“But….you drove us all the way to Utah and back, so really I owe you.”

They face each other.

“But the reason we went to Utah was for me, so really I owe you.” Mike hates the idea of sleeping in the chair or the floor for that matter, his back has enough problems without adding to them. But he also has the advantage of being imbued with an unholy amount of stubbornness. 

Unfortunately, his opponent is Vanessa. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” she says, throwing her hands up. “So, if you don’t, then I guess it’ll just go to waste.”

“I guess so,” he shoots back. 

Vanessa rounds the bed, presumably to go sleep in the chair. (Another thing that there’s only one of.)

“What if…” he pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. Vanessa looks at him. “What if we shared the bed?”

“Share the bed?”

“Like I sleep on this side.” He points to the side closest to him. “And you sleep on that side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Vanessa asks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off her concern. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mike shrugs. “I mean as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be fine.” And he would be. A lot of his discomfort comes from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure, he’s slept in a lot of different places, but never this far from home. After Garrett was taken, he grew to fear being away from his parents (and later Abby) for long periods of time.

“Okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers. She looks up at Mike expectantly. “Well?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to call the house. The babysitter is probably expecting me back soon, and Abby will be upset if I don’t say goodnight.”

She nods, snuggling deeper into the covers. 

-x-x-x-

Mike slinks back into the room. Thankfully, both the babysitter and Abby understood his predicament. Abby told him goodnight - which was sweet. And then, she started teasing Mike about his apparent “crush” (like he’s in middle school or something), to which he hung up.

He loves his little sister, but sometimes she drives him up a wall.

He slips into the bed, curling up. The blankets are scratchy and the pillows are lumpy, but Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-asleep by the time his head hit the bed.

Next to him, Vanessa giggles. 

“What?” He mutters, eyelids drooping. 

“Nothing. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Yeah….goodnight to….” Before he can finish his thought, Mike is fast asleep. And not long after, Vanessa follows suit. 

For the first time in a long time, their dreams are pleasant. 

-x-x-x-

Mike is used to waking up with someone hanging off him. It’s a natural part of being a big brother. First with Garrett-who he shared a room with-and then with Abby, who always preferred his company, even before mom died and dad left. 

What he’s not used to is the other person being taller than him, and having their chin rest on his head. 

He panics, jerking backwards. Sadly, the bed's not big enough for the amount of panicking his sleep-addled brain is doing, and Mike very nearly tumbles to the floor. At the last possible second, a pair of arms save him, pulling him back. 

Vanessa looks at him. He turns on his side, staring at her. 

Without another word, they go right back to snuggling. Sure, it might be awkward in the morning, but that would be the future-them’s problem. 

They fall asleep, curled up right next to each other. If their fingers wind up intertwined, or they end up snuggling in their sleep, well then, that’s no one else’s business but theirs.

#mike x vanessa #schmelly #fnaf au #fnaf fanfic #request fulfilled #requests open #Thank you so much for your patience <3 #cross posted on ao3 #mike schmidt #vanessa shelly #one bed trope #fnaf fic

[ymsliwy]

The Ghost Of You

Shinichiro x fem!reader

Summary: Reader visits shin´s grave.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of death

Notes: english is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar!!

I miss your touch some nights when I'm hollow

It´s been five years, and y/n had moved from town, trying to forget her live, that was haunted by her past with him. It wasn’t that she wanted to forget him. But it was hard to breath when everything reminded her of the love she had lost. Today was his birthday and she found herself back in the streets where he was racing on his bike with his friends. She remembered him taking her with him one night, when most of the people were sound asleep.

And if you can't be next to me. Your memory is ecstasy.

“Lets go”, he had said, standing there under her window. “I´ll buy you a milkshake”. She could see how tired he was. That day he had no time to meet her because he was to busy working at his bike shop. But he still came even at this late hour, and he looked up at her with his big dark eyes expectantly, how could she say no. So y/n came down, he gave her his helmet. She refused to take it saying he should wear it but he just smiled at her saying she shouldn’t worry, that the angels are on his side, that he cant die. Before she could complain he had kissed her and used her dazed state to slip the helmet on her head. She complained but he didn’t care, he took her hands and put them around his belly and looked back at her saying she should hold him tight. That night she felt like life would be eternal the moment seemed endless and it felt like time would stay still. She felt the cold wind on her body and the heat radiating from him. They were driving hours that night, and she hoped that this moment would never end.

I need more time, but time can't be borrowed

But it ended and so did their story. Shin died a week after. And she was left alone. That day when she received the horrific message a part of her died, and with that did her future. She knew she would never love someone as much and deep as she had loved him, she knew that she would never be that happy again. She felt like someone had buried her with him. Because that’s how she felt, six feet away from living her live.  

I'd leave it all behind if I could follow

Five years later and she still felt disconnected, time didn’t make it better, it just adjusts you to the pain. You learn to live with the hole in your chest, that’s the only thing time does when you lose what you love.

Since the love that you left is all that I get. I want you to know that

Today is his birthday, or was, but she doesn’t like talking about him in past tense, for her he is still by her side or rather inside her mind. Y/n walked down the familiar streets that ones held so many of her dreams, and stopped at a shop to buy cigarettes. She didn’t smoke, those were for him. After that she visited his grave. Pale grey stone with his initials on it and his bones buried six feet under. She sat herself in front of his grave. “Hey shin, its been a while, wasn’t it”. she smiled sadly. Look what I got you. She lit the cigarette and coughed when the smoke hit her lungs. She laid the cigarette down on his grave. “Happy birthday” she whispered. A tear slipped her eye. “You smoked all the time shin, and I hated that you did it, I hated the smell of it. but when I smell it now, I only smell you, its funny isn’t it how everything is linked with you, I sometimes even light a cigarette just to pretend that you are standing next to me. Its been five years now, but it never really felt like you left. I can still feel you. People are telling me to move on, you know. To let you go. But you know shin, I don’t want that. I mean they are somehow right, I guess. Thinking of you does make me sad but when I remember you, when I remember us, I am happy, I am happy that I had you. and I am sure that we will meet again. until then I have to be with the ghost of you.”

If I can't be close to you. I'll settle for the ghost of you

The cigarette went out and y/n´s face was full with tears but she was smiling. Smiling about the memories of him.

She laid the pack of cigarettes on his grave and went, promising to return next year. And so, she went not aware of his ghost following her every step.

 I miss you more than life

#shinichiro x reader #shinichiro #tokyo revengers #shinichiro sano #angst #shin x reader

[leschanceux]

☕✨ memes from the tea room: variety version ✨☕ feel free to change pronouns where necessary!

maybe it’s my stripper name

glad to know we have a balanced team but what the fuck guys

oh my goodness, martha stewart, eat your heart out

YOU CAN DO IT. TAKE BACK CONTROL. CONFRONT THE STORM WITH ANGER, SQUEEZE LEMON IN ZEUS EYES IF YOU HAVE TO

she did a variant of it for me but this one grabbed me by the throat, licked my face, & told me it owned me

for the record. you know who else has a huge height difference? a lion and a honey badger. know who wins?

hydrate or die straight

I WILL NO LONGER PUBLICLY SHAME YOU

WHERE DID YOU COME FROM

we-haw

... i'vehad too much sugar today i'm putting myself in timeout

Wiki said I’m dangerously cheesy

Any language that forces me to math can go fuck itself

sometimes you just have to celebrate the rollercoaster that is intimacy

The Himbo Has Done a Stupid alert

Yeah no my mini wine advent calendar serving isn’t going to be enough for this

2.5 raccoons worth of pleasure and pain

I don't get the reference but I appreciate an animal with a blunt force object

that I've recently been ravaged by a stronger than usual hurricane season and am two seconds away from inhaling bath salts

we do love needy bastards in this house

shoutout to my fbi agent for seeing my google results of 'what does sleep paralysis feel like' and 'what does it feel like to be strangled' it was for the sprint

it's not my fault i have a midas curse and everything i touch turns to angst

“american horse pirates”

log in & fight me, I'll win

I however use fuck like I’m seasoning chicken so I had to get creative

I’m not feeling full angst today. Only partial. No wait, I just burnt my tongue. We’re in full angst mode.

Did I just compare [ name ] to a mostly feral dog yes I did. And I have no regrets because I'm right.

i got the good bath salts  NOT THE ONES THAT WILL GET YOU HIGH THO

those hips don't lie but they sure do clickety-clack

oh my god they were tombmates

this conundrum is brought to you by Duolingo

Of course shit went sideways and I fucked up a perfectly good OC. Look at her, she's probably got trauma now

I stared into the abyss and [ name ]'s open tabs stared back

I'd love to go to space, bean me up scotty

SEND ME TO MARS

I FOUND A FULL SIZED UNICORN SKELETON

wow I thought I seriously fucked up in that sentence

English: it's great except it's not

Sometimes you just gotta let the battery die. Remind it who's boss

sorry I've been screaming about chow mein for the last 15 min, lemme get my shit together

BITCH WHERE'S MY BELLS

Colonel Mustard is that you? Why are you carrying a pipe?

My mom asked me if I reflected on my year and how I can do better and I think fighting god is on the path of better

my mom says i can fight god if your mom says you can

'you pompous udon' sounds like an insult from Gordon Ramsey

english is a bastard language that assaults other languages in dark alleys and rifles through their pockets for spare participles

Perish with me, it's what friends do

I don't need you to sow a field of fucks; I need you to snag one, put it in your basket, & give it out when appropriate

that delete button will not save you

i have a parasocial relationship w fictional characters, i know everything about them i was there at birth, i named them

#rp meme #rpcdev #( aka; things that made me lose my shit )

[that-one-kid-who-died]

I kinda wrote something and need some feedback though a disclaimer there are quite a few Pinterest quote I built in there so it’s not 100% mine. Also English isn’t my first language so excuse spelling mistakes.

A message from Mother Earth:

Why are you crying? My child whatever has happened it will pass. It hurts now. I know it does. People will try to help and sometimes it will work sometimes it won’t. Some tell you to look forward some will tell you to pray to some god. Don’t be too mad at them if they don’t understand. They’re trying their best. So are you. The grief doesn’t go away, it doesn’t shrink. It stays, and we grow. We will think “Curse the pain!”. With gentle tears some pray so let the world retake them. Rage. Rage against the dying of the light. You are loved if even just by me. You body is a great instrument that makes you able to feel, think , live. And there will come storms that will try to destroy those abilities. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through. How you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure wether the storm is over. But one thing is certain, when you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person you walked in as. That’s what the storms are all about. It is not what happens in you life but what you make of it. There will be things that are out of your control and it is your choice how to react to them and bend the outcome. Stop trying to make yourself indestructible. Like any soft creature it is in your nature to break, and like any soft creature it is in your nature to heal. Don’t be afraid to change trough it. We are meant to change. It’s not always painless. But it’s never without a reason. When you let go of what you are, you become what you might be. Remember, Honesty without kindness is brutality, kindness without honesty is manipulation. You will learn how to tell them apart. Learn how to prioritize protecting your wild heart, not your fragile body. Your soul is free. It will never not be. Your body is temporary, your soul is not. It will learn with every life. You are not your current life you are a learning living soul. Your body is just a tool. Your greatest tool but even the greatest tools once loose their ability to function. All energy it uses to live is only borrowed and one day we will all have to return it. The energy even distributed. If you give yours or will be given to those who need it. For we will be reborn into our next life and use what we learned in the last one. Try to imagine it. What it will be like to go to sleep in one shell and never wake up. Now try to imagine what it will be like, to wake up in another one never having gone to sleep. You didn’t come into this world. You came out of it like a wave of the ocean. You are not a stranger here. You belong in this world. Learn to remind yourself of that. When you can do that, help others to do that too. Keep in mind love will not save them. But it will hold their hand while they save themselves. Just like you did. Trust me when I say that one day it’s going to hit you, that you woke up happy. That you’re smiling for some reason. Your hands aren’t shaking anymore. One day you will remember what it was like to be you and you will be glad you fought. You will be glad you kept going. Remember me as your sacred mother. I told the stars about you. The winds Carries my poems for you. The moon knows your secrets. The woods whisper stories about you and the rain comes down just to see you. The clouds travel for you. The grass comes to soften the ground you walk on. We are everything. And let me tell you that whatever you’re going through. Let the time pass. That’s the cure. Survive the days. Float through the life like a ghost. Cry and wail. Feel. Until you will scratch you way back Up through the months. One day you will find yourself sitting somewhere in the sun. You will lean your head back close your eyes and you will realize that you’re okay.

#poetry #writing #stories

[charliepipedesigner]

Experimenting with Spread Layouts - ISTD Project

Now that I have discovered my subject matter and the conceptional intentions I am going to answer in relation to the ISTD brief, now I am exploring the content that is going to be written in my final piece. 

Here for instance, I have taken inspiration from Stormzy’s performance during the 2020 Live Brits Awards. After Burna Boy’s solo rendition of “Anybody,” a projection of a message about racism and inequality gave a poignant reminder of the societal issue that takes place across the world. The message said “A lot of time they tell us ‘Black people, we too loud.’ Know what I’m sayin’? We need to turn it down a little bit. We seem too arrogant. We a little too much for them to handle. Black is beautiful man.” The final song “Rainfall” brought a calmness to the energetic set that had taken place between the beginning and the end of the performance. 

I consider this message from the live performance relevant to the narrative of my concept about the spaces between dialects and accents because sometimes people who associate with MLE (Multicultural London English) are often portrayed by the mainstream media as a representative of the negative societal issues that take places. It’s also a spoken language in the UK that isn’t familiar with people who are from an older generation, since MLE was only initiated over 30 years ago. In regards to the quote I have selected, it plays with the dialects and accents idea; how they are spoken by a certain group of people in London, the connection it has with public influencers such as Stormzy, and how the message can be manipulated to give a celebratory tone of the cultural influence of grime/rap music. 

In response to that point, I have experimented with different layouts on a spread to make the text readable but interactive with the reader. Firstly I crossed out the words ‘it down’ to imply the message that the community of multicultural people should turn up the vocals to celebrate the culture of music. The ‘spaces between’ aspect come from the idea of bridging the gap between the typical MLE dialects that connect with the chosen artist, and the way it is spoken. Additionally I used different sentences so that I provide a text that makes sense, whilst also using different colours to make the important words stand out. 

#ISTD #SpecialistPractice #AUB

[kamos-fic-corner]

A cup of coffee (Eren x Reader)

Summary : A simple cup of coffee can change your life, in many ways. (aka : Connie loves to be a wingman and we stan him in this house) 

Trope : College AU, blind date (or is it)

Wordcount : 4962 words

A/N : I have no idea how I managed to create this monstruosity of a fic when I have I don’t even know how much wips in my google drive. Also, English isn’t my first language. Have a nice read !

Also, thanks @smfics / @princess-jaeger for encouraging me to post this, I hope it was worth the wait !

The library was almost silent, except for some whispers and sounds of the occasional student wandering between the bookshelves in search of a specific book. It was, by far, much more  enjoyable than the usual  lunch rush - in truth, it was the perfect moment for you to do your own homework, even if a lot of other students wouldn’t have called that “homework” with, perhaps, a hint of disdain. At least you were silent, mostly, except for the sound of your pencil - that people would usually mistake for someone taking notes.

“Don’t move, Historia”, you reminded, lowering your gaze from her cute, doll-like face, to your sheet of paper, trying to make her features justice. From her delicately parted blonde hair, to her beautiful big blue eyes, to her mouth and chin, currently upturned in a smile - everything was perfect. But that perfection was frustrating. It felt like no matter how much you tried, no matter how much you erased and redrew your lines, it would never be good enough.

You didn’t like that. At this moment you felt like you were a good-for-nothing artist wannabe, tanking your sometimes fragile ego.  You already felt self-conscious whenever you went anywhere with her, even if you tried to push the thought away ; you too were pretty and smart, and you could pride yourself in being a good friend.And you were somewhat decent at art. Maybe. On a good day when stars aligned. Eventually.

Ymir sighed, as she fidgeted beside you. She had proclaimed wanting to see you drawing her girlfriend in real time, but she sounded more exasperated than anything. Everything was annoying, for her, and honestly you wondered if she even felt you were her friend.

“Stop redoing her nose.” The brunette sighed. “The more you’re redrawing it, the less accurate it’s going to become.”

You looked at her. She was surprisingly helpful. Did she feel only concerned because you were drawing her darling, or did she feel worried about you and your ego ?

“Seriously, take a break. You look like you’re about to burst.”

So much for your previous thinking, then. Perhaps she was right, you concluded. You needed, probably, to take a step back. It was also a problem you had with homework, even non-art related - you usually got so engaged in it that you ended up hyperfocusing on small details because you wanted it to be perfect, missing the whole perspective, and you always needed someone to snap you out of it and correct your mistakes.

So you put your notebook down for a second, and to your surprise you already had a nice outline of your friend’s face. Ymir was right - you felt like you had gotten Historia’s nose pretty well this time. Could you do better than that ? You weren’t sure. Did you want to erase it and do something worse ? Absolutely not. Of that you were sure.

Historia visibly relaxed. Posing for a portrait like this could be exhausting, actually. 

“Sorry for bothering you with this.” You said, feeling vaguely guilty. She could do another million things, and yet you were hogging her. “It’s not even a mandatory homework, just practice and...”

“Don’t worry.” She said, sweetly. “It makes me happy to help you.”

You felt like crying, relieved. Maybe the lack of sleep did make you emotional.

“And it’s just natural to help you, you’re always helping me study for my quizzes, so if I can help you back..” It was a habit you had since high school, actually. She always said you were a nice tester, telling things as they were and not sugarcoating it when she was wrong because you were friends. “It is fun to see you draw..”

“Oh, er..”

“Because you’re super expressive when you draw.” Ymir completed, cutting off the (un)intelligent response you were trying to make. “You’re like, frowning, not frowning, sticking out your tongue, and stuff. I find that pretty weird, personally.”

“..Excuse me?” You could only say, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Did you truly look that weird when you were drawing ? You probably looked absolutely ridiculous ! “Well, er, anyway. Let’s go back to drawing.” You felt like your break had been long enough, and you hated drawing portraits in multiple settings, because the energy and vibe weren’t the same.  Historia put herself into position, again. She had that beautiful, mysterious smile - a Mona Lisa smile, in a way. Not that you had the gall to compare yourself to Da vinci, of course.  You were pretty confident, except concerning your art, feeling very much like a baby walking in the footsteps of artists better and bigger than you would ever be.

You followed Ymir’s advice, though, trying this time to get Historia’s mouth and smile right, and finally leaving her nose alone. Maybe you were a perfectionist, after all. But you felt like this perfectionism was your way of justifying your existence as an art student. And that was why people said you were intense about your art, never stopping until you were satisfied. But strangely, capturing Historia’s smile was easy. Perhaps you were getting better, or your brain was relieved to not have anything to do with her nose.

Her hair now, delicately framing her face. You had always liked drawing hair, somehow.

“Shit !” You exclaimed as your criterium lead broke. Of course, you thought angrily to yourself as you changed it swiftly. It just had to happen. This shit always let you down in the most important moments. At least this time it hadn’t pierced your paper sheet ; it had happened once during a class, and you had been mortified for days.

The universe was against you today, you decided. You didn’t want to know how much bad luck you had in store for the rest of the day, and you didn't even want to imagine it. Enough was enough. You needed a nice, simple day, and a  cup of tea on your couch, wrapped up in a plaid. Nothing less, nothing more. Was it too much ?

Eventually though, you managed to finish Historia’s portrait, and even if the blonde seemed elated and drowned you in compliments, you felt the usual tendrils of self-doubts gnawing at you. You could have done better here, there too - here, the line was too rough.

“Gotta go, I’ve got a class in twenty minutes and I’d like to have a drink.” You announced after a brief discussion about some fair outside of town that Historia wanted to see. You were feeling exhausted - and mostly, you hated having a free hour like that in the middle of the morning. It wasn’t worth going anywhere but the library or, eventually, the cafeteria..hoping that neither of the two buildings were too crowded. At least during this free hour, you always were able to meet with your two friends. You gathered up your belongings, carefully detaching the sheet of paper and putting it in your big portfolio, and went your way after saying goodbye.

However fate had its own plans for you, apparently.

You were walking at a peaceful pace, a cup of chocolate in one hand, your portfolio safely tucked under your arm.  The roads of the campus were beginning to get crowded by what seemed like tons of students going to their classes, some beginning to get rowdy. Nothing unusual, by the way.

What was unusual however, was the chain reaction that ensued. As you were beginning to get close to the Arts building, someone passed through you in a hurry, bumping into your shoulder and making you lose your balance and trip, and, of course as you struggled to get a semblance of dignity (and spat a “watch out where you’re walking, asshat !” that fell on deaf ears), your portfolio literally made a cup of coffee fly, crash on the ground and spill its content on the concrete.

You felt blood retreating from your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry !” You exclaimed to the owner of the late cup of coffee, absolutely mortified. You didn’t know how to react - or rather, a million ideas were running through your mind, and you were almost freezing in response.  Sorry wasn’t the beginning of how you wanted to handle this whole thing. “Someone bumped into me and...” You began to explain, desperate, somehow, to make him understand that you hadn’t wanted to be malicious. It was just a string of bad luck.

“I figured it out.” The guy said, after picking up his empty cup - you felt oddly relieved that he wouldn’t leave it on the ground, even if there wasn’t much he could do about the spilled coffee.  And when he straightened himself, you took advantage of the moment to take a good look at him. He was tall, at least six feet - and  he had one of the prettiest faces you had ever seen. A long yet a little rounded face, with a sharp jaw and a plump bottom lip. Green, expressive eyes, under thick eyebrows. And, finally, loose brown hair that fell around his broad shoulders.  I kinda want to draw him..you thought, and that was what you would have wanted to say, if you didn’t feel like your brain had stopped. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not - did you get burned or..?” You asked.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. ”However, he frowned. “Are you hurt ?”

“N-no, I’m okay, more scared than hurt. Maybe I’ll get a bruise, but overall - I’m fine.”

Shooked by you, but fine, you thought.

“Good.” And with that, he turned around.

“Wait !” He stopped his motion, confusion written all over his (rather handsome,you had to admit) face. You began to search your pockets after putting your portfolio on the ground, at a good distance from the stream of what had been coffee. “Take this.” You said, handing him some pocket change. “Huh?” He said.

“For your lost coffee. It’s my fault it ended up on the ground, so paying you back for another is the least I can do.”

“It’s not your fault, you don’t have to -” He protested.

“Yes I do. I should be more careful when I’m carrying my stuff” You interrupted. “I would feel terrible for the rest of the day if I didn’t give you money, otherwise.”

He smiled, gently, and that completely changed his face, softening his features. You felt yourself blushing a little, something tugging in your heart. This guy was gorgeous, you thought. He looked like he could be a model in a fashion magazine. A piece of art.

“Alright then.” He conceded. “That’s very kind of you.”

No, that was called ethics, you wanted to correct but for some reason you felt like you were unable to speak, as if your tongue had been numbed or stuck to the top of your palate. You felt simultaneous dumb and somehow hopeful this guy would find you pretty. You were confused.

“My name’s Eren.” He introduced himself. Pretty name. 

Ah, when you thought about it,  it felt like you had seen him on campus before (it could be a small world after all), but never this close.  You would have remembered it otherwise !

“(Y/n), you managed to reply, feeling like an absolute dumbass. “I’m an Art major..”

“That explains the portfolio.” He noted with a nervous smile, and you nodded. 

“Sorry again about that..” You probably had ruined his day with that little stunt, now that you thought about it. At least he hadn’t spilled some coffee on his shoes. That would have been terrible.

Then, he looked at his watch and had a reaction of surprise.

“Oh shit I’m gonna be late - see you around !”

“See you around.” You repeated in a low voice, almost dreamy- not realising that you were gonna be late too, until someone else snapped you out of your trance by bumping you. And by then, you were pissed at yourself.

   That guy would have made a gorgeous model, and you had missed the opportunity to ask him if he’d roll with it. You could draw him from memory, you supposed, but it wasn’t the same.  Oh, to take a picture of him. That would have been nice, too. But you had been too shaken to be able to speak. That wasn’t very usual. It wasn’t your type to have an artistic (or that was what you tried to tell yourself) crush on anyone. Even Mr Smith, the history teacher - perhaps he was too much like a statue, larger than life and twice as impressive. But Eren..he was what, around your age ? He was someone accessible.

Though, when you talked about him to the two girls later, Ymir teased you by reminding you of your latest what-would-should-have-been-a-hook-up-but no (and adding that the guy seemed a lot more decent than Handspinner Hair Guy), whereas Historia was super supportive. And gleeful that you had sent her her portrait after finishing it with your black pen and scanning it. You , however, groaned. Your  two friends sure seemed invested in your love life, and you knew that you weren’t gonna to see the end of it so soon. Not until you managed to see the guy again. Perhaps next week on the same day ? Who knew. Except that you tried to be around the same building around the same hour, but to no avail. Same for the week after, and you finally admitted to yourself that Eren was a one-time apparition, a nice little break from what you were used to seeing on campus.

Worse, you had no idea what his major could be. You had told him yours, but he hadn’t told you his - even if he was nice, he looked overall a little reserved and aloof, almost on the defensive. It was his right, of course, but you felt a bit bummed, and your other friends picked up on that. Especially on that day when with Sasha, Connie and Jean (with whom, as you liked to say, you shared one brain cell) you were on a movie night at your studio.

“C’mon, (Y/n), what’s going on now ? “Jean asked. You could feel the worry in his voice.

“-Nothing,” you replied in a sharp voice. Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen to watch the dumbest romcom. It made you wistful, melancholic and full of regret that life wasn’t as easy.

“-Stop lying, what’s wrong ?” 

You sighed. You knew that even if you didn’t know the trio for a very long time, having met around spring of the previous year, they cared about you and would nag you until you caved in. So at least, you could save yourself the hassle of being interrogated.

“-Don’t laugh okay ? Something like two weeks ago, I met a super cute guy, alright. Except that I didn’t have time to get his number, it was just before my 11am class.”

“-Ok wow, what happened exactly ?”

“-Spill the tea, Y/n ! “Sasha encouraged. 

“-I kinda sent his coffee cup flying with my portfolio because some idiot didn’t look where he was going and bumped into me.” You groaned, head between your hands. “So I gave him some change to buy another cup later.”

“-What did he look like ?”

“- Rather tall, brown hair, green eyes,”you recalled. “Looked like he could have been a great model.  His name was Eren.”

You missed Connie, Jean and Sasha exchanging glances, and they motioned to exchange dms very quickly.

“ I kinda tried to see him again around the building, around the same hour on the same day of the week, but it didn’t work out. Guess it was nice meeting this guy, but I probably won’t see him again.” You sighed. “It’s a shame, it’s all.”

You didn’t even know why you got attached like that, to be honest. Eren was cute and he was nice, and he looked like he would make a wonderful model to draw, but...Guess you were a bit lonely, after all. That wasn’t healthy.

“Well, that’s too bad,”Connie said, shrugging. “The campus’s too big, I guess. But you know what ? You should try to see other people.  You spend too much time with your brushes..”

“-Yup, it’s worrying to see you like that.”Sasha doubled.

“-Yeah, I know. I guess it’s the little “what could have been”, but…”You shrugged. “Other fishes in the sea, I guess.” “-Actually, I’ve got this friend..He’s not good at meeting people as he’s a little shy, but since you’re more extraverted, I think you could be a good match.”

“-Ok wow Connie, is this a real friend or the “cousin of the friend of the grandfather of the friend of one of your acquaintances ?”’ Historia had tried that in high school, and the guy was super self-centred and probably a pervert, given how he looked at your boobs. Historia had been mortified, when you told her.

“-Noooo no don’t worry !”He gestured. “ He’s actually a high school friend of mine. He’s really caring and loyal, but awkward. I feel like you could really get along.

“-If this is who I think it is,”Jean said, “ I can vouch for him too.”

“-It’s not you at least, Jean ?” You snorted.

“-Ouch, that hurts.”

“-Man, I don’t cheat.”He protested.

“-I know, just kidding.”You laughed. Jean and you had always the most platonic relationship, but it was too fun to tease him gently like that. “Well, if this guy’s so great, I’m fine for one date. Not for dinner though, people always get ideas.”

It had happened once last year, actually. The guy you had seen seemed to understand that one dinner date meant he could pull the “oh no it’s late, can I sleep in your room”. Needless to say, you had told him hell no, and cut contact after. You had sworn off dating apps after that.

I hope this blind date is a good idea, you thought nervously for the nth time. Connie was by your side, almost dragging you. He sure was impatient for you to meet this  friend of his. At least he had told you it was a guy, but given the number of guys he had as mutuals on his social media (not that that you had checked in details, being busy this week with homework), that didn’t help you in the slightest. 

You just hoped that the guy would be as great as he was telling you, and that if you  weren’t interested, that wouldn’t sour the relationship between him and his friend. You didn’t think the mystery guy would be a total incel from what you were told but..you know. Some people thought that they were the centre of the universe.

“I’m kinda on the fence with this date thingy - last time I went on a blind date like that, it didn’t end well -” You tried to say. You had still your doubts, somehow. You weren’t used to that, clearly. “Connie, not so fucking fast, I’m wearing a dress for fucks’s sake.”

And Historia had helped you getting a little dolled up, while still respecting your  personality and style. You felt actually pretty.

“What happened?” He asked, vaguely nervous all of a sudden.

“Super self-centred.” You shot back. “ He was always “me me me, listen how great I am” and didn’t even try to get to know me. Though he kinda implied he wanted to screw me.”

“Ew.”He had the decency to reply, before smiling. “Don’t worry, my friend’s not like that. He doesn’t do the one-night-stand thingy.  True romantic at heart, I tell you.”

You cocked your eyebrow.

“But I was gonna introduce you to each other eventually, you’re both my friends !”

Well, you guessed it was a positive thing that he thought that the mystery guy and you could work as friends, even without the blind date deal. 

“Anyway, here we aaare !” He said after a while.

He had chosen a nice Italian restaurant that you had been to once, last year. But there already was a guy standing in front of the restaurant door, looking at his phone. Rather tall, it seemed.

“Here he is ! Hey man !” Connie exclaimed as you quickened your pace. “Over there !”

The guy turned in your direction, and you almost froze again.

“Eren?” You weren’t sure, he had tied up his hair in a half-bun. But well, that allowed you to have a better look at his face,and you  felt yourself blushing.

“G-glad to see you again, (Y/n.)” He managed to say, clearly a little distraught too.

“Connie, what’s the meaning of this ?” You managed to say. Connie was absolutely beaming -while Eren looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, averting his eyes.

“C’mon don’t be shy Eren ! You told us all about the cute artist girl you met , and you told us about the tall cute guy with brown hair you had met. It was easy to know you spoke of each other ! So Sasha, Jean and I thought it’d be more fun to set you up together for a blind date, you know, for a bigger surprise and...here we are !”

You looked at him. You didn’t know if you had to laugh or to cry.  

“You, hum, thought I was cute ?” You asked Eren, wanting to change the subject. 

“And nice.” He replied, barely audible, still looking away. 

“So, so ! Eren, I trust you with Y/n, she’s a close friend of Sash’ and me, so take good care of her alright ?”

“Connie !” Eren protested. And, looking at me, he finally whispered. “You look very pretty, (Y/n)”

You were wearing your favourite dress, the one that made you feel confident and cute as hell, plus you had styled your hair a little, and had put on some light make-up. Looks like he appreciated the effort, you thought, giddy.

“Thank you...” He looked good too, you had to admit. 

“Alright guys, have a nice lunch ! Gonna quizz you for details later !” And with that, Connie was gone.

“I’m glad I saw you again.” You admitted, a little shy. “You’ve kinda been on my mind since the other day. I was angry at myself for not asking for your number. You seemed kinda interesting., and, er, when I saw you I thought you’d be a great model !”

“So was I.” He said, gently, pink tinting his cheeks once more. “I- I wanted to know you better. But I was a little intimidated. I was nervous, somehow.”

Well, that, uh, put things into perspective.

“Guess we’ll have to thank Connie for putting us in contact then, eh?” you said. Or strangling him, you still didn’t know. The worst thing was, you were pretty sure you had heard Connie mention his name, now that you thought about it. How did you not make the connection when you met him ?

You had been distracted.

“Yes..”

“World’s small,  isn’t it  ?”

He smiled at you. “Let’s go inside, alright ? Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Y-yes.” Your turn to be so nervous now, touched by his pure kindness as you followed him into the restaurant. But still - you managed to catch Eren’s gaze once you were seated and handed menus by your waitress, and smiled. He smiled in return.

This blind date was sure turning better than you thought, and - finally having made up your mind-, you’d be sure to remember to thank Connie for the lovely attention.

“So, hum..” He began. You could feel his nervosity from your chair - he was fidgeting. “Have you been doing art for a long time ?”

“I was one of these kiddos who spent all their free time drawing.” You almost laughed, so happy that he took  initiative and wanted to get to know you. “In class too, when I was bored.” 

Eren smiled.  

“And growing up, I just got interested  in other forms of art. Clay, painting, photography…That kinda was how I met Connie actually.” Encouraged by his quiet attention and nodding, you kept on talking. “Last year during spring, I wanted to take pictures of the big park downtown, and I kept on bumping into Connie, so we ended up talking a lot, and we became good friends. I already knew Sasha from one meeting at the cafeteria, and they introduced me to Jean once at uni. And you ?”

“Pretty sure he had mentioned it to us once.” He frowned. “But,er, we all met at the beginning of high school, since we were in the same class. You know how it is. I sat next to him, and he initiated a conversation, so... “ It was a simple but very cute meeting,  you decided. Connie was one of these people that could get along with mostly anyone, because he was so honest and open.

 Feeling like a complete idiot because of the stupidness of what you were going to say, you asked him about his field of study, since you didn’t get to ask him last time. Architecture, he responded, and you listened to him speaking of his passion, hanging on his words. He liked the idea of being able to create homes for people. That was interesting, and honestly a bit endearing - he really cared about people, apparently.  At one point, though, your eyes met after he finished speaking, and you realised you kinda wanted to kiss him, and leaned in. However,you were shaken off your trance by the sound of a close chair rattling on the ground.

“Anyway,” you said, feeling a little...disappointed. At what or whom, you didn’t know.  “Let’s take a look at these menus.”

  The lunch was more than satisfying, even if, to be honest, you barely paid attention to your meal. Eren was much, much more interesting than whatever you had on your plate. You liked his quiet resolve,  the passionate way he talked, the way his face and eyes  were lighting up when he spoke about something he liked.

   Bad news for you : you were smitten. And little did you know that Eren was growing fond of you too. Because from architecture, you ended up speaking about a famous museum in town that you had both visited, and that you both liked. Encouraged by him, you talked about a few paintings inside that you particularly liked, and their respective artists. He was such a good audience, you thought as you blabbered, feeling your cheeks get warm each time you looked at those eyes. But on his side, he was finding you increasingly cute. Especially that you could relate to never being satisfied with your drawings. That was the true icebreaker, and you had a good laugh together while speaking how you could get frustrated with the one detail that you felt was so vital.

 “Thank you for the date, Eren.” You said at the end of the meal, feeling on cloud nine. “I had a really good time with you.”

“So had I.” Eren said, softly. You smiled at each other, and you realised you kinda didn’t want the date to end. You wanted to spend more time with him.  “Hum, (Y/n), d-do you want to go somewhere else perhaps ?”

You felt your heart burst, and you said “Yes ! Of course !” with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. But you didn’t care. You were spontaneous, you liked to go with the flow. So when Eren proposed to go to the park, you gladly accepted. But honestly you didn’t care where you were going, simply content to be with him, talking with him. As you strolled the park’s alleys, you learned about his passion for sports and video games, and you told him about your own hobbies. You joked about your classes, spoke about your friends - and at one point, in a spur of boldness, you took his hand that seemed so large compared to yours, and he gladly took yours. He radiated such warmth, you never wanted to let his hand go, feeling oddly safe with him. 

“I had a wonderful time with you, Eren.” You finally said when you were in front of your building, cheeks pink and eyes shining. It was, truly, the best first date you ever had. Eren was caring, respectful, super interesting, you liked to talk to him - what else could you ask for ? “I’d really like to see you again.”

“So do I.” He murmured. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

And you did, elated. You promised yourself to text him as soon as possible. You didn’t want to miss any opportunity with that guy, because you felt like you had the potential to create something great together.

 “Can you text me when you’re home ?” You asked. “ I’d really like to know that you’re safe.”

“I will.” And when you looked him right in the eyes, you felt again that urge to kiss him . You tilted your head, lips parted, hoping that he’d get the message.

“I hope I’m not coming too strong,” Eren said, eyes on you, his breath a little ragged, “But I’d really like to kiss you right now. If that’s okay with you.”

“Then go for it.” You replied. He smiled, his face lighting again, and he softly leaned into you, his soft hands cupping your cheeks. Forehead against forehead, you smiled.

Finally, finally ! His lips went meeting yours. Eren kissed you in a slow, shy way, almost like he was afraid you would pull out at any moment. Except that you had no intention to, and you showed him clearly, wrapping your arms around his neck and losing your fingers into his thick, yet soft hair. You wanted him closer. And thus he moved his arm around your waist, pulling you toward him, with an appreciative groan. It felt like time had stopped - that nothing else existed except the two of you, and the feeling of his mouth against yours.

When you finally parted, you were panting, but so happy, smiling at each other. You felt like the happiest person in the world. You wanted to shout, you wanted to sing, you wanted the whole universe to know that for once, you were happy. For once, you felt like someone was interested in you - for you. And when you looked at Eren, you went for another kiss, giggling, eyes closed and just relishing this moment together.

All thanks to a spilled cup of coffee.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #reader insert #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader

[urfictional]

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 – 𝐤𝐚𝐳 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary: there's a new face in ketterdam and kaz will be forced to strike a deal with the devil in order to get what he desires

warnings: blood, blood, and again blood, mentions of torturing, did I mention blood? my bad writing

A/N: I'd like to say that this is my first time writing a fic but then I would be kind of lying because a while ago I started to write a Kaz Brekker fanfiction on Wattpad. BUT. this is my first time writing a short fic, so we'll see how it goes.

also, English is not my first language so bear with the mistakes (I'm sure that there are some)

It’s hard to earn a name for yourself in the Barrel. You essentially start from nothing and then slowly brick by brick you start to grow your empire. You spill sweat and blood to achieve the goal and from then it only takes so little to remain at the top. It’s simple. One just needs to show the power that they hold. And Y/N has power.

Kaz Brekker was wondering. Standing in a dark room with fancy furniture, his Crows, Inej and Jesper, behind him. He was wondering from where she came from. The girl, approximately his age. Just a few months ago, the Barrel practically swarmed with rumors about a girl that Ketterdam hadn’t seen yet. No one knows from where she came from, or who she is. If Kaz has to think, he even doesn’t know her name.

She has many names but none of them is her real one. At least Kaz thinks that the girl that is sitting in front of him couldn’t possibly be called the Executioner. On the other hand, who knows this is the Barrel. A perfect place for weird people.

“You surprise me Kaz Brekker.” Even her voice sounded mysterious. It was confident, powerful and Kaz caught himself thinking that he could listen to her voice till death finally takes him. “You came to my house, walk through my corridors and now your dirty boots are staining my Persian rug and the only thing that you tell me is that you want to strike a deal that would make us acquaintances.”

Kaz didn’t utter a word. He watched the girl and the girl watched him. Her feet were resting on her desk and she comfortably leaned into the chair. She smirked.

While the Y/H/C haired girl was staring at Kaz, Jesper let his eyes closely inspect the girl. In a weird way, she reminded him of Kaz. Perfectly tailored clothes, black dress shirt, and grey west. Dress pants and heeled boots on her feet that laid crossed at her ankles on the desk’s surface. Her Y/H/C hair made into a tight knot at the back of her head. The only thing missing was leather gloves and cane.

“People who hold power in the Barrel should have acquaintances who do the same.” Kaz would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous about this meeting. He has heard stories about this girl, stories that possibly are nasty rumors, yet you never know. This is the Barrel after all.

She let out an amused laugh.

“And you count yourself as one?” She raised her eyebrows, an amused smile present on her face. “An acquaintance who holds power in the Barrel?” Y/N waited for Kaz to say something, to defend his honor yet he stayed quiet. She smirked while standing up. “Congratulations, you just passed the first test.”

Y/N needed to know if Kaz Brekker really is the Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. She won’t let the boy know all her secrets and ways how she works if he isn’t half of what Ketterdam claims him to be.

“Though I have to ask.” She stopped millimeters away from him. Y/N could feel the ragged breath of his that made her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head a little. She looked into his eyes and stepped one step away from him. “If you claim that people who hold power in the Barrel need to, say, familiarize with others. What about Pekka Rollins? Hmm?” She watched how Kaz visibly stiffened upon that name. She smirked. Y/N got what she wanted. “I hope you will pass the next test, for I would be glad to make you an acquaintance.” With that Y/N walked past the trio towards the door. “Follow me.”

From outside, the building seemed to look like any other building on this street. Yet when the group made the turns for what seemed like a thousand times, they realized that the exterior is just an illusion. The Crows followed the girl down the steps and judging by the fact that there were no windows, and the air was a tad humid, they were in a basement.

They walked down a corridor. Kaz noted that there were doors every few meters on the left side. It looked awfully like a prison down here. Y/N walked past one door but then stopped causing the group to halt. She walked back towards the doors she just passed and opened the latch in the door. A small window with bars allowed to see inside the room yet the group couldn’t see anything from the position where they were standing.

They could hear a chain rattling and groaning which forced Kaz to think that there was someone in there.

“Well, have you changed your mind?” Her tone was demanding. Kaz observed her side profile. Sharp eyes and clenched jaw, he wondered if this is how he looked when he demanded something and didn’t accept no for an answer. The group heard more chain rattling and louder groan that sounded awfully like no with a couple of colorful words that were no doubt directed towards the girl. Y/N smirked. “As you wish.”

She went to close the latch when she glanced at the group on her left. Then without closing it moved forward along the corridor. Y/N purposely left the window open, she wanted Kaz to see with what kind of devil he is making the deal.

While walking past the doors Kaz glanced inside and visibly gulped. A man in his late thirties was hanging by his hands from the ceiling, his feet barely touching the ground. He was bleeding from, well, everywhere, and by the looks of it, he has been here for a long time. He was barely alive, and it seemed hasn’t eaten for weeks. Kaz wondered if behind all those doors were hanging men or even women.

“Do they even get food or water?” Inej was troubled by the scene that she saw behind the doors and couldn’t help but to be a tad concerned.

Y/N glanced behind her before turning to face the front again.

“When I remember, they do.” She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. They turned a corner and continued to walk along another hallway. The girl turned to throw a smirk towards the Suli girl. “I am a tad forgetful; you know. Can’t always remember all those poor souls that need feeding.”

So, then there were more people down here. Kaz suddenly wondered how many of them were still alive and how many were just hanging dead.

The group reached the end of the corridor. They were met with a man who was undoubtedly guarding the doors. With one nod from the girl in front of them, the guard opened the doors and let them inside.

This room was bigger than the previous cell that they saw. The walls were lined with cabinets that contained things, starting from various kinds of weapons to bottles of different sizes and colorful liquids.

“How’s our guest feeling today?” The Crows turned to where Y/N was standing in front of a man who, much like the previous prisoner, was hanged by his hands from the ceiling. The only difference was that there were also chains on his feet and he was hovering above the ground. Kaz observed the room and noticed three men standing on the sides. More guards. “Did the acid did its work?”

The Y/H/C-haired girl walked towards the table on her left. She was slowly unrolling the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. After she was done Y/N picked up a bottle inspecting it.

“The man at the market said that it's pretty effective.” Only now Kaz noticed the burn marks on the prisoner’s body. One of the guards stepped forward.

“He didn’t utter a word.”

Y/N tsked while shaking her head in disappointment. She then turned to the hanging man.

“This is not how we work, darling, you know that.” The mock concern in the girl’s voice caused Kaz to shiver slightly. “Such a pretty face ruined for nothing. I can give you one more chance.”

The prisoner raised his head and looked at the girl in front of him. Y/N could easily live without the information that this man could give her but then it wouldn’t be interesting anymore. Any kind of information even the smallest one about the people of Ketterdam could turn out to be useful. You just need to find the right way, the right place and time.

“I am bound by an oath, I won’t tell you anything. Even if I’ll have-”

“-have to die, yeah, yeah don’t I know it.” Y/n interrupted the man by rolling her eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

The Crows braced themselves after what came next. The hanging man mustered all the strength that was in him and spit the blood that was in his mouth right into her face. The guards launched forwards, but Y/N raised her hand halting them in their steps.

Kaz watched how the girl was trying to calm her breathing the muscles of her back stiffened. He admired the control that this girl possessed. Not many people that Kaz knew would have such a perfect grip of themselves. Hell, even Kaz himself sometimes dropped the controlled behavior behind and acted a little reckless.

Y/N slowly turned around and the group of three could see the specks of blood on her face mixed with spit.

“Alright, if this is how you want to play. Let’s play.” She pulled out a cloth from her vest pocket and walked to her left where a small mirror was hanged on the wall.

When she was done cleaning her face, she walked back to stand in front of the prisoner. One of the guards walked beside her and handed something that reminded Kaz of a sheathed sword. Y/n took the handle and pulled out a long shiny sword. It was very long, it even was longer than Jesper’s arm. It looked heavy but she held it like it was light as a feather.

“I have always admired the old weapons.” She turned to face the Crows. “All those revolvers, pistols, and bombs, they are boring.” The girl extended her arm and pointed her sword at Kaz while smirking. “There is something about swords and weapons that have sharp and pointy things that excite me.” She glanced at the Suli girl on Kaz’s right. “Wouldn’t you agree with me?”

Inej couldn’t get anything past her lips, so she opted with just a nod.

Y/N lowered the sword and Kaz dared to breathe again. He didn’t even notice that he was holding his breath.

“There is nothing more exciting than feeling the sword digging in the flesh. Feeling the muscles breaking when you turn the sword-” She suddenly looked up at the group and offered a half-embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

Then the smile disappeared, and she turned to walk closer to the hanged man.

“Let’s play a game. Heads or tails, Kaz Brekker?” Kaz looked up startled and watched how the girl turned to face him, any sign of the embarrassed smile long gone. Two steely eyes were staring into his soul waiting for his answer. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

Kaz knew that it was something to do with the way how the girl is going to kill the man. There was no point in trying to get away from that. The man is going to die anyway. With or without Kaz’s answer.

“Tails.” She smirked while turning to the hanged man. “This is your lucky day. You’ll be able to see me perfectly in the last seconds of your life.” Then she turned to face the Crows once more. “I have many names, yet only one of them is true. I am an Executioner.”

Kaz watched how she turned her head and raised her sword. With one swing sideways, the sword cut through the hanged man detaching the top half from the bottom separating him just above the waist. Kaz could hear Jesper cursing from his left and Inej taking in a sharp breath from his right. But Kaz did not let his eyes wander from the girl whose arm was still extended with the sword. The blood dripping from the weapon and the top half of the dead man.

“This part is my favorite.” Y/N lowered the sword and grasped the hilt in both hands, she supported the tip of the sword against the ground like a cane. Now the only thing missing is leather gloves. Jesper thought while watching the girl who yet again looked exactly like Kaz. “His brain hasn’t fully comprehended the pain and the fact that half of him is missing. Last seconds before he dies, he sees my face and wishes he had done otherwise.” Kaz couldn’t see her face, but he imagined a contented smile resting on her face. “The silent art. What could be more beautiful than this?”

Y/N turned around to face the Crows. One of the guards walked closer with the empty sheath. She cleaned the sword before taking the sheath and putting the sword in it. With the sheathed weapon in one hand, Y/N walked closer to the group of three. She stopped before Kaz and squinted her eyes while inspecting him. Satisfied with whatever she saw, the girl smirked.

“Congratulations. You managed to keep everything inside. So did your friends.” She looked from Inej to Jesper then back at Kaz with a cheeky smile. “Some people have the need to display their previous meals. I’m not a fan of those people.” She then pointed at the guards behind her. “Nor are they. Because, well, they are the ones that are cleaning everything.”

Kaz forced himself to not look at the hanging body behind the girl, not a second longer, otherwise, he too will have the need to display the meal he had earlier this day. He was surprised how Jesper managed to hold himself together. Kaz took a mental note to ask him that after they will be done here.

Soon they left the basement and followed the girl back upstairs. They arrived in the room they previously were in. Y/N walked to the cabinet on the left and placed the sheathed sword on a stand. Then she walked to the front of the desk and her hands crossed on her chest leaned against it.

“Well? You still want to make the deal?”

Kaz knew that there is a possibility that he will regret the decision but there was one thing that forced him to not think about this possibility. There was a reason she mentioned Pekka Rollins. And that reason was simple, she wanted him gone just as much as he. If that wouldn’t be the case, she wouldn’t have bothered with all this play. Therefore, Kaz firmly nodded his head forcing a smirk to appear on the girl’s face.

She stood straight and extended her hand, waiting for Kaz to shake it.

For a moment he hesitated, but then slowly extended his hand and felt her fingers wrap around his leather-clad hand.

And so, the devil made deal with the devil.

A/N: aight let me know what you think. ;))

#kaz brekker #six of crows #kazzle dazzle #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker imagines #shadow and bone #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagines

[notsoheadless]

Remember Longcat, Jane? I remember Longcat. Fuck the picture on this page, I want to talk about Longcat. Memes were simpler back then, in 2006. They stood for something. And that something was nothing. Memes just were. “Longcat is long.” An undeniably true, self-reflexive statement. Water is wet, fire is hot, Longcat is long. Memes were floating signifiers without signifieds, meaningful in their meaninglessness. Nobody made memes, they just arose through spontaneous generation; Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull.     You could talk about them around the proverbial water cooler, taking comfort in their absurdity. “Hey, Johnston, have you seen the picture of that cat? They call it Longcat because it’s long!” “Ha ha, sounds like good fun, Stevenson! That reminds me, I need to show you this webpage I found the other day; it contains numerous animated dancing hamsters. It’s called — you’ll never believe this — hamsterdance!” And then Johnston and Stevenson went on to have a wonderful friendship based on the comfortable banality of self-evident digitized animals.     But then 2007 came, and along with it came I Can Has, and everything was forever ruined. It was hubris, Jane. We did it to ourselves. The minute we added written language beyond the reflexive, it all went to shit. Suddenly memes had an excess of information to be parsed. It wasn’t just a picture of a cat, perhaps with a simple description appended to it; now the cat spoke to us via a written caption on the picture itself. It referred to an item of food that existed in our world but not in the world of the meme, rupturing the boundary between the two. The cat wanted something. Which forced us to recognize that what it wanted was us, was our attention. WE are the cheezburger, Jane, and we always were. But by the time we realized this, it was too late. We were slaves to the very memes that we had created. We toiled to earn the privilege of being distracted by them. They fiddled while Rome burned, and we threw ourselves into the fire so that we might listen to the music. The memes had us. Or, rather, they could has us.     And it just got worse from there. Soon the cats had invisible bicycles and played keyboards. They gained complex identities, and so we hollowed out our own identities to accommodate them. We prayed to return to the simple days when we would admire a cat for its exceptional length alone, the days when the cat itself was the meme and not merely a vehicle for the complex memetic text. And the fact that this text was so sparse, informal, and broken ironically made it even more demanding. The intentional grammatical and syntactical flaws drew attention to themselves, making the meme even more about the captioning words and less about the pictures. Words, words, words. Wurds werds wordz. Stumbling through a crooked, dead-end hallway of a mangled clause describing a simple feline sentiment was a torture that we inflicted on ourselves daily. Let’s not forget where the word “caption” itself comes from: capio, Latin for both “I understand” and “I capture.” We thought that by captioning the memes, we were understanding them. Instead, our captions allowed them to capture us. The memes that had once been a cure for our cultural ills were now the illness itself.     It goes right back to the Phaedrus, really. Think about it. Back in the innocent days of 2006, we naïvely thought that the grapheme had subjugated the phoneme, that the belief in the primacy of the spoken word was an ancient and backwards folly on par with burning witches or practicing phrenology or thinking that Smash Mouth was good. Fucking Smash Mouth. But we were wrong. About the phoneme, I mean. Theuth came to us again, this time in the guise of a grinning grey cat. The cat hungered, and so did Theuth. He offered us an updated choice, and we greedily took it, oblivious to the consequences. To borrow the parlance of a contemporary meme, he baked us a pharmakon, and we eated it.     Pharmakon, φάρμακον, the Greek word that means both “poison” and “cure,” but, because of the

limitations of the English language, can only be translated one way or the other depending on the context and the translator’s whims. No possible translation can capture the full implications of a Greek text including this word. In the Phaedrus, writing is the pharmakon that the trickster god Theuth offers, the toxin and remedy in one. With writing, man will no longer forget; but he will also no longer think. A double-edged (s)word, if you will. But the new iteration of the pharmakon is the meme. Specifically, the post-I-Can-Has memescape of 2007 onward. And it was the language that did it, Jane. The addition of written language twisted the remedy into a poison, flipped the pharmakon on its invisible axis.     In retrospect, it was in front of our eyes all along. Meme. The noxious word was given to us by who else but those wily ancient Greeks themselves. μίμημα, or mīmēma. Defined as an imitation, a copy. The exact thing Plato warned us against in the Republic. Remember? The simulacrum that is two steps removed from the perfection of the original by the process of — note the root of the word — mimesis. The Platonic ideal of an object is the source: the father, the sun, the ghostly whole. The corporeal manifestation of the object is one step removed from perfection. The image of the object (be it in letters or in pigments) is two steps removed. The author is inferior to the craftsman is inferior to God.     Fuck, out of space. Okay, the illustration on page 46 is fucking useless; I’ll see you there. (21) But we’ll go farther than Plato. Longcat, a photograph, is a textbook example of a second-degree mimesis. (We might promote it to the third degree since the image on the internet is a digital copy of the original photograph of the physical cat which is itself a copy of Platonic ideal of a cat (the Godcat, if you will); but this line of thought doesn’t change anything in the argument.) The text-supplemented meme, on the other hand, the captioned cat, is at an infinite remove from the Godcat, the ultimate mimesis, copying the copy of itself eternally, the written language and the image echoing off each other, until it finally loops back around to the truth by virtue of being so far from it. It becomes its own truth, the fidelity of the eternal copy. It becomes a God.     Writing itself is the archetypical pharmakon and the archetypical copy, if you’ll come back with me to the Phaedrus (if we ever really left it). Speech is the real deal, Socrates says, with a smug little wink to his (written) dialogic buddy. Speech is alive, it can defend itself, it can adapt and change. Writing is its bastard son, the mimic, the dead, rigid simulacrum. Writing is a copy, a mīmēma, of truth in speech. To return to our analogous issue: the image of the cheezburger cat, the copy of the picture-copy-copy, is so much closer to the original Platonic ideal than the written language that accompanies it. (“Pharmakon” can also mean “paint.” Think about it, Jane. Just think about it.) The image is still fake, but it’s the caption on the cat that is the downfall of the republic, the real fakeness, which is both realer and faker than whatever original it is that it represents.    Men and gods abhor the lie, Plato says in sections 382 a and b of the Republic. οὐκ οἶσθα, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τό γε ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος, εἰ οἷόν τε τοῦτο εἰπεῖν, πάντες θεοί τε καὶ ἄνθρωποι μισοῦσιν; πῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις; οὕτως, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τῷ κυριωτάτῳ που ἑαυτῶν ψεύδεσθαι καὶ περὶ τὰ κυριώτατα οὐδεὶς ἑκὼν ἐθέλει, ἀλλὰ πάντων μάλιστα φοβεῖται ἐκεῖ αὐτὸ κεκτῆσθαι. “Don’t you know,” said I, “that the veritable lie, if the expression is permissible, is a thing that all gods and men abhor?” “What do you     mean?” he said. “This,” said I, “that falsehood in the most vital part of themselves, and about their most vital concerns, is something that no one willingly accepts, but it is there above all that everyone fears it.” Man’s worst fear is that he will hold existential falsehood within himself. And the verbal lies that he tells are a copy of this feared dishonesty in the soul.

Plato goes on to elaborate: “the falsehood in words is a copy of the affection in the soul, an after-rising image of it and not an altogether unmixed falsehood.” A copy of man’s false internal copy of truth. And what word does Plato use for “copy” in this sentence? That’s fucking right, μίμημα. Mīmēma. Mimesis. Meme. The new meme is a lie, manifested in (written) words, that reflects the lack of truth, the emptiness, within the very soul of a human. The meme is now not only an inferior copy, it is a deceptive copy.     But just wait, it gets better. Plato continues in the very next section of the Republic, 382 c. Sometimes, he says, the lie, the meme, is appropriate, even moral. It is not abhorrent to lie to your enemy, or to your friend in order to keep him from harm. “Does it [the lie] not then become useful to avert the evil—as a medicine?” You get one fucking guess for what Greek word is being translated as “medicine” in this passage. Ding ding motherfucking ding, you got it, φάρμακον, pharmakon. The μίμημα is a φάρμακον, the lie is a medicine/poison, the meme is a pharmakon.     But I’m sure that by now you’ve realized the (intentional) mistake in my argument that brought us to this point. I said earlier that the addition of written language to the meme flipped the pharmakon on its axis. But the pharmakon didn’t flip, it doesn’t have an axis. It was always both remedy and poison. The fact that this isn’t obvious to us from the very beginning of the discussion is the fault of, you guessed it, language. The initial lie (writing) clouds our vision and keeps us from realizing how false the second-order lie (the meme) is.     The very structure of the lying meme mirrors the structure of the written word that defines and corrupts it. Once you try to identify an “outside” in order to reveal the lie, the whole framework turns itself inside-out so that you can never escape it. The cat wants the cheezburger that exists outside the meme, but only through the meme do we become aware of the presumed existence of the cheezburger — we can’t point out the absurdity of the world of the meme without also indicting our own world. We can’t talk about language without language, we can’t meme without mimesis. Memes didn’t change between ‘06 and ‘07, it was us who changed. Or rather, our understanding of what we had always been changed. The lie became truth, the remedy became the poison, the outside became the inside. Which is to say that the truth became lie, the pharmakon was always the remedy and the poison, and the inside retreated further inside. It all came full circle. Because here’s the secret, Jane. Language ruined the meme, yes. But language itself had already been ruined. By that initial poisonous, lying copy. Writing.     The First Meme.     Language didn’t attack the meme in 2007 out of spite. It attacked it to get revenge.     Longcat is long. Language is language. Pharmakon is pharmakon. The phoneme topples the grapheme, witches ride through the night, our skulls hide secret messages on their surfaces, Smash Mouth is good after all. Hey now, you’re an all-star. Get your game on.     Go play.

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[stuckybarton]

Immortality

Summary: The only thing missing in their relationship was time, time that was not set as he could live for a thousand years and you could only live through a fraction of it.

Warning: Slight Angst? Mostly Fluffy moment with a sort-of philosophical question? (lol what?). Spelling and Grammar mistakes cuz English isn’t my first language. Not Beta’d. All mistakes are my own. Characters: Unnamed Female Character (reader insert?) x Loki Laufeyson Words: 1,160 A/N: Unironically, I was actually listening to Immortality by the Bee Gees ft. Celine Dion while I was writing this. So there’s that. ~

You could only smile and stare at the man besides you. Reading had not been your favourite hobby, but if it means spending time with him, even for just a couple of hours before he is pulled back into yet another mission that wouldn't guarantee he'd come back unharmed or worse, alive, you would take this moments. So you like to make the most out of the time that the two of you had.

Away from the noise of the compound, away from pestering of one Tony Stark or Thor Odinson, and away from the very idea of their relationship only being temporary.  Not because you had no faith in him but the reality that he wasn't human but a God, and you were merely the human who would be lucky enough to reach your eighties with your unhealthy eating habits and lack of exercise. Whatever time you could make with him, you make the most out of it.

The silence of the library that Tony had installed in the compound was comforting. Nothing much was heard between the two of them. The sound of the pages being turned and the grunt from him if something in the book was displeasing him.

"Your thoughts are running and I can hear it from here, my love." Loki's voice brought you back to the present.

"Will you mourn for me when I'm dead?" You asked, just idea of what life would be like for him when you were gone always made you curious.

Thor had always said there was a difference in Loki since meeting you, since you two had become a couple, since you had made those vows of faithfulness to each other. A difference that you could see even to this day. He was still the same ol' Loki that everyone still grows cautious and wary of even when he had proven himself as part of the Avengers. But you believe had become more mellow, more open to talk to anyone especially the Spider Kid that he could do no wrong to.

"What kind of question is that?" He hissed, the book he was reading now shut with a sharp thud before his focus was now on you. "Are you not feeling well? Must I force you to go see Dr. Banner again?"

You smiled, being reminded of the cold you tried so hard to assure Loki was nothing. But after a box of tissues empty and your lack of will to stand up from the bed, it was in his best interest to carry you--in your protest, to Dr. Banner's office just to have him check on you. You have now vowed never to let even a sniffle be unchecked by Bruce or any other doctor available in the compound.

"One of this days, I will shove a Golden Apple of Idunn to stop myself from worrying about you." he muttered realizing you weren't sick with the smile still playing on your face.

"What's that?" You inquired, leaning towards him more. The coolness of his skin permeated and you found comfort as he had pulled you closer into his arms., until you now rested on his lip, facing him in the same manner eyes gazing at you.

"A fruit in Asgard." He began, with a flick of his wrist, an illusion of a golden apple comes floating between the two of you. "It grants us youth, vigour and sometimes even immortality to Midgardians."

So there was a way for you to experience that kind of life.

"But..." You trailed off. You know there would be a catch with this sorts of things. Knowing life, the general balance that came with life and death, there will always be a condition to this.

"No catch. You will not lose a limb or lose your sanity." he smirked, the apple fading away as his cold comforting hands now cupped your cheeks. "It is a matter of if one mortal is willing to throw away their humanity, their family and friends for the sake of an immortality and the uncertainty of it."

Would you really be leaving anyone behind? You never had a good relationship with your parents growing up, and the last time you talked with any of your siblings was years now. You barely even know at this point how their life was at and what you were doing besides being a freeloader in the Avengers Compound, like they had bluntly told you one call during Christmas.

The friends you had now, mostly the Avengers, had a higher life expectancy--unless death comes to them in another way. But they were all that you could really call as family. The only ones that actually matter.

"Do you have one with you?" You inquired. Such a change was profound, something many would think more than twice about, but seeing him, seeing what you have in store in the form of a Trickster God that had vowed to worship the ground you walk in.

"Depends." He cupped your cheeks. Thumb caressing against your bottom lip. "Are you going to take it if I do have one?"

"Will you let me?" You smirked leaning closer to him now. The warmth of his breath and the coldness of his touch was a perfect contrast.

"My want and what you may need maybe completely different from one another, My Love." The way his blue hues fall from your face, now a deep thought lingered just as much as you had come to terms about the difference it may be. "I cannot make you choose to stay even if I want to. I accept the curse of immortality, making the most of what we already have."

"What if I want the apple? Will you give it to me right now?" You asked again.

"More than ever."

'

"Will you not get tired of me?"

"Never." he shook his head, once again meeting your eyes. The brilliance of his azure eyes only made your decision more evident.

Maybe it would be a selfish decision, but you wanted this, you wanted this little things. This little moments with Loki wouldn't be limited. Forever seems like such a long time, but with him, with him in your life and by your side, maybe it wouldn't be so scary as many would try to convince her as such.

"Forever with you doesn't sound too bad." you assured finally standing back up to your two feet, Loki's hands now held onto your hands, refusing to let you go. "I've got you and everything else doesn't seem too bad."

"Even when you have to also live just as long as the oaf Thor?" he smirked, the seriousness of their conversation was long gone now.

"Don't make me change my mind Loki with such an argument." you snapped, walking away from the library to the cackle of your loving boyfriend.

What you had failed to realize that in the evening, you would get what you want.

#loki imagines #loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki one-shot #loki one-shots #loki oneshot #loki oneshots #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson reader insert #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki laufeyson one-shot #loki laufeyson one-shots #loki imagine #loki laufeyson oneshot #loki laufeyson oneshots #loki laufeyson imagines

[gendercensus]

Supplementary survey: they/them reflexives, The Sir/Ma’am Issue, and Spivak vs. Elverson

This short, clarifying survey ran from 4th until 24th April 2021. There were 2,998 usable responses. Unlike the annual Gender Census survey, this one was open to anyone of any gender, provided they lived in an English-speaking country.

It asked about two things:

They/them verbs and reflexives - basically whether people who prefer they/them pronouns prefer the reflexive to be themself or themselves, and which people feel is more “correct”.

Sir/ma’am/? - investigating why people use sir/ma’am in areas where it’s polite and common to do so, and whether there are any viable nonbinary or gender-neutral alternatives.

This blog post will also investigate the Spivak vs. Elverson issue, which was actually a separate poll that took place on two social networks.

~

THEY/THEM VERBS AND REFLEXIVES

Someone asked about themself vs. themselves, and it reminded me of some of the they/them issues that people ask about in feedback boxes and various confusions surrounding them.

Singular they - what is it, and when and how do people use it?

Plural they - what is it, and when and how do people use it?

What is the “correct” reflexive for each of these?

You can see the statistics in more detail here, but here’s the graph as an overview:

Participants were asked a series of questions about singular they pronouns. Everyone was asked a “which is correct” question, and participants who sometimes or always like to be called ”they” were also asked about their personal preferences.

The graph is a view of only participants who sometimes or always like to be called “they”.

Verbs. As you can see, participants overwhelmingly (94.3%) wanted people to use plural verbs (”they are reading a book”) when talking about them in the third person - even though the percentage of people who thought that was the most “correct” form was a little lower (81.8%). This was lower because 11.4% of participants who preferred “they” answered “both are correct”.

Reflexives. People were much more likely to say that both themself and themselves were correct (28.3%), and more likely to have no preference between the two (17.4%). However, themself was still more popular overall at 59.3%, and 47.3% thought themself was grammatically correct.

You as a control. I also asked all participants whether yourself or yourselves was more correct when addressing one person as a kind of control question, because they is almost grammatically identical to you - it can refer to one person or multiple people, it takes plural verbs even when referring to/addressing one person, and in that situation only the reflexive changes. Many people who say that singular they is grammatically incorrect have no issues with singular you, so it seemed like something that might be interesting to compare. In the graph above you can see that 93.6% of people thought yourself was more correct; only 4.2% of they-accepting participants felt that both yourself and yourselves were equally correct when addressing one person.

There were a couple of things that came up several times in the comments:

“They is” is common in African-American Vernacular English (AAVE), and probably in other dialects too. As I don’t live in the US I’m pretty unfamiliar with this dialect, but either way that seems fine to me. It’s part of why I also asked for participants’ locations, because I wanted others to be able to download the results and see if some regions were more likely to use some words/constructions than others.

There were some alternatives to themself and themselves presented, such as theirself and theirsen. Both of these points lead nicely to the third...

The idea that any language choice is more “correct” than another is quite prescriptive. What feels correct or natural varies depending on a lot of factors, such as where in the world you learned English, and there is no such thing as objective correctness when it comes to such a broad and variable language as English.

I am aware of and agree with that third bullet point, so my asking which phrases were more “correct” was a bit of a trick question. It was a good way to get a feel for people’s linguistic instincts.

I also thought it was interesting that participants who never wanted to be called they were slightly more likely to side with the most popular view on what is “correct” across the board, and less likely to say “both are correct”.

~

PLURAL VS. SINGULAR THEY

I actually ran another version of this survey first and then scrapped the responses, because it was clear that my survey design was leading to some pretty confused and unhelpful data! Among other things, it asked participants whether they preferred singular or plural they for themselves and then directed them to particular questions based on their answer, and the comments suggested that people either didn’t really understand the distinction or meant different things by those terms, even though I had added help text.

This is my understanding:

Singular they is they/them pronouns when used to refer to one person. Verbs are usually plural (i.e. “they are” rather than “they is”), and themself and themselves are both common. Example usage: They are getting themself a cup of coffee. They bought themselves a nice new hat.

Plural they is they/them pronouns when used to refer to two or more people. Verbs are usually plural (i.e. “they are” rather than “they is”), and themselves is almost universal (with the exception of regional variations such as theirselves). Example usage: They are getting themselves some coffee together. They all bought hats for themselves.

Some plural/multiple people refer to themselves as “we” and prefer to be addressed as “they/themselves” (which they call plural they) because they are a group of individuals sharing one body.

The reason I initially asked directly about singular vs. plural they is because I was concerned that plural/multiple systems would cause some statistical confusion. Many plural people have asked me to add plural they to the checkbox list of pronouns in the annual survey, but since it has never been entered by over 1% of participants I have never had reason to do so. As far as I knew, the only difference between singular and plural they is the reflexive (themself for singular and themselves for plural), so I wanted to be able to investigate non-plural people in isolation, and I was curious to know about any trends or differences. I wanted to find out if I should be doing anything differently to ensure that Gender Census statistics are helpful.

So, I swapped out the badly-designed question for a straight-up checkbox, a “check this box if you’re plural/multiple” type of thing, with a note that participants should fill in the survey once per body wherever possible, and then I made some graphs.

Here you can see that plural systems were still more likely to prefer people to use themself to refer to them rather than themselves, though the margin is narrower:

Plural participants were also more likely to say that they sometimes or never want people to refer to them as they, whereas non-plural people were more likely to want people to always refer to them as they (or they just feel fine about it):

There’s not a lot in it, though. It’s all relatively evenly distributed, with no strong leader in either category there.

For the curious: 8.2% of participants checked the plural/multiple box.

In conclusion: plural and non-plural people alike all prefer people to use themself when referring to them in the third person using they/them pronouns, and I feel that there is probably no need to ask about plurality or separate out data from plural people in future. (Asking about this and seeing the responses did in part prompt me to start an anonymous feedback form for plural participants of the Gender Census, though.)

~

THE SIR/MA’AM ISSUE

For several years participants have been asking me in the feedback box of the annual Gender Census survey to also ask about gender-inclusive or nonbinary-specific alternatives to sir and ma’am. I’ve largely not done anything about it, because when informally asking around I’ve generally had the response “just don’t say sir or ma’am, just leave it out altogether.” I live in the UK, where if someone calls you sir/ma’am you’re either looking at home in a fancy restaurant for billionnaires or you’re being made fun of - or sometimes both.

However, during this year’s annual survey while talking about it in a little more depth I learned that there are places in the world where sir/ma’am is very common, required for politeness, and basically inescapable. Nonbinary people in those areas are really struggling, because they do actually need a nonbinary-friendly stand-in for those terms - omitting the sir/ma’am isn’t an option.

Again, the location question was asked so that anyone else downloading the spreadsheet of responses can analyse by region to find out whether sir/ma’am is ubiquitous in particular regions and in which contexts it is used, and can even check whether there is a region-specific alternative to sir/ma’am emerging. I asked several questions about sir/ma’am, including about reasons/contexts and personal preferences, and some superficial analysis is included on the spreadsheet of responses.

But the juicy bit is the nonbinary-specific and gender-inclusive alternative words, right?

[The counting formula is case-sensitive so I made everything lowercase to make the count a little more accurate.]

Suggested gender-inclusive alternatives to sir/ma’am

mx - 4.1% (151)

friend - 2.2%

comrade - 1.2%

captain - 0.7%

ser - 0.5%

mate - 0.4%

m - 0.3%

per - 0.3%

boss - 0.3%

folks - 0.3% (9)

Suggested nonbinary-specific alternatives to sir/ma’am

mx - 8.3% (250)

mix - 0.7%

tiz - 0.5%

friend - 0.4%

ser - 0.4%

comrade - 0.3%

mixter - 0.3%

captain - 0.2%

ind - 0.2%

mir - 0.2% (6)

So it looks like Mx (pronounced “mix” or with a toneless vowel that sounds a bit like “mux”) is the clear winner in both categories. If you want to try to introduce a gender-neutral version of sir/ma’am in your area this one is probably your best bet.

~

SPIVAK VS. ELVERSON

This wasn’t part of the same survey! It was a Twitter poll and a Mastodon poll that ran for one week and ended today, and I’m putting it here because it has to go somewhere.

Sometimes people refer to the ey/em and e/em “versions” of the Spivak pronoun set, which makes my eyebrows do things, because they’re not both Spivak. They are distinct established pronoun sets with their own names.

Spivak - e/em/eir/eirs/emself - written about by Michael Spivak in the 1990s. [source: Nonbinary Wiki]

Elverson - ey/em/eir/eirs/emself - created by Christine M Elverson in the 1970s. [source: Nonbinary Wiki]

The Elverson set is older, but it’s less well-known for some reason, so they’re assumed to be variants of Spivak due to the similarity in spelling.

I was recently asked how we can know which is more popular, given the “oh this checkbox option is close enough, I’ll just choose that instead of typing in my very slightly different set” effect and the “hmm this checkbox option is very close to my set, I’m probably meant to choose this one” effect, plus the boost that checkbox options get with the “oh I hadn’t thought of that one but yeah, why not” effect. Spivak (e/em) is on the checkbox list of pronouns in the annual survey, so it appears to be much more popular than Elverson (ey/em)... but is it really?

I ran a poll on both Twitter and Mastodon, and then used a spreadsheet to extract the useful numbers. There were 141 relevant votes after one week. I wouldn’t usually make annual-survey-altering decisions based on a sample that small, but in this case the results are extremely decisive:

It seems that the highest proportion of people who like at least one of the sets are happy for both to be used, at 48%. 45% prefer ey/em (Elverson) and 7% prefer e/em (Spivak). This is pretty stunning! I’ve been presenting e/em (Spivak) as a checkbox option on the Gender Census annual survey for years, possibly since the first survey in 2013, and because it’s a checkbox option it seems to be consistently a lot more popular than ey/em (Elverson). That’s 4.3% and 0.6% respectively in the 2021 survey. But this poll suggests that actually ey/em (Elverson) is much more popular when the two pronoun sets are viewed on a level playing field.

When you remove all “I don’t mind” votes, you get this:

Over 6 times as many people prefered Elverson!

I will definitely be adding Elverson to the Gender Census next year, just so that we can split the e/em and ey/em votes and really get to the bottom of this.

Anyway, while we’re on the topic, ey/em takes singular verbs most of the time.

#results #spivak #elverson #sir/ma'am #they/them #singular they #plural they #pronouns #neopronouns

[ao3feed-bakusquad]

You Don't Need Words to Say "I Love You"

You Don't Need Words To Say "I Love You" (But Sometimes It's Nice To Hear) by HelpImStuckInAFandom

Kirishima took out the bottle of hand lotion he kept in his bag, lifting it up to look at how much was left. “Man, I gotta get more lotion,” he told Bakugou casually. “Can you remind me next time we get groceries? I forgot last weekー” “I fucking love you.”

Or: Over half a year into their relationship, Bakugou still hasn't said the words "I love you" and he wants to so bad. When he finally does, he's slightly miffed by Kirishima's nonchalant reaction, thus receiving an explanation of many ways he has shown his love in actions. Still, he wonders if that's really enough. (that sounds slightly more dramatic then it is, but that's only because I'm dramatic)

Words: 4638, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Established Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Kirishima Eijirou is a Dork, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Significant Other, Bakugou Katsuki is a Dork, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Significant Other, Love Confessions, as in bakugou finally says "I love you", they are already dating, he just hasn't said the actual words until now, Soft Bakugou Katsuki, Soft Kirishima Eijirou, Soft Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like there's some emotional struggle but it's just them being so sappy, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, like they are just insufferable, anyway they're in love and say it, Bakugou ISN'T bad at feelings, he's just bad at saying the actual words "I love you", Bakugou Katsuki is half-decent at feelings, Kirishima IS good at feelings, but at the same time isn't??, solving our problems through communication, Happy Ending, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37649395

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Kiribaku #♥ #Kiribaku #💎 #💥 #⚣ #R:G #A:Help #Fluff

[coolemmasulivan]

Last Dessert

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary (I’m terrible at this): Chris showing you his romantic side after you coming home from a workday.

Word Count: 1516

Author's note: English is not my first language.

You parked your car next to Chri's and grabbing your purse you locked it, going quickly inside the house since it was still very cold outside. As soon as you stepped inside the house, the warmth and the smell of the candles you had on the console table at the front door, welcomed you. The fragrance of Black tea and Lemon hit your nose and you took a deep inhale. You smiled and hanged your purse and jacket.

"Chris?" You called out. 

You could hear music coming from somewhere and the lights except the light of the dining room were on a low mode, giving it a comfortable and calm environment. 

You were about to turn the dimmer switch higher when you heard the familiar sound of Dodger's paws against the wood floor.

You saw him coming from the dining room, waving his tail excitedly. It was no surprise, Dodger always welcomed you, when you entered the house after work, what surprised you was the red and white bow tie around his neck and the rose he was carrying in his mouth.

You kneeled and took the rose from his mouth, petting him behind his ears, he tried to lick your face but you pulled away before he could. "No, do that to your dad." You smelled the rose. "Speaking of your dad, where is he, uh boy?" As he could understand you, he ran off and disappeared into the dining room. 

You followed him, and before you could enter the room, Chris stepped out. You quickly stopped and your mouth opened in wonder when you saw him all dressed up. He was wearing a dark navy blue suit, his shiny black shoes, and a white shirt with a black tie. His hair was slicked back and he had trimmed his beard.

"Hey, beautiful!" You could swear his voice did things to you. Every single day.

You looked him up and down. He looked smoking hot. "What's happening? Why are you dressed like that? Not that I'm complaining." Suddenly a very good smell ran by your nose. "And what smells so good?" You turned your attention to the kitchen, but Chris grabbed you and pulled you toward him.

"It's a surprise!" He pecked your lips. "Since I'm going away at the end of the weak to film, I thought we could have a special date. Safely, at home."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "What a nice idea you had. That's what you spend the day thinking about?" Your hands go into his hair, tangling your fingers in it.

"About you? Yes, I spend the day thinking about you. I always do."

You blushed and pulled him down, closing the space between you, and kissed him. But before you could deepen it, he pulled you away. "I'm loving this, but I have to go see if the food isn’t burning and you have to go take a shower and get dressed. I've found something in your wardrobe that I quite liked. Please wear it." He cupped your face and gave you one last kiss.

You went to the bedroom, as Chris went to the kitchen. When you opened the bedroom door you couldn't stop yourself from laughing, as you saw what he had found in your wardrobe and put on the bed for you to wear.

"Seriously Christopher?" You yelled, at the door so he could hear you.

"What? Just put it on. It's hot." You heard him yell back. 

You looked back at the set of red lace lingerie on top of the bed. "And what about the rest?"

"You don't need it." You laughed and Dodger barked at the loud voices.

In the bathroom, you took a quick shower and applied makeup. A simple red lipstick and mascara.

You dressed the lingerie Chris had chosen and curled your hair. You took a look in the wardrobe and pulled out a simple but sexy black dress, that you had only worn once at a friend's wedding. The heels were also black and when you stood up, you felt like you didn't know how to walk in them anymore. You didn't remember the last time that you wore heels, but most probably before the pandemic.

You closed the bedroom door and when you approached the dining room, you saw Chris against the door frame, holding a bouquet of roses.

When he saw you, he smiled and whistled, looking you up and down. "You look beautiful. How did I get so lucky?" You blushed and grabbed the bouquet roses that he offered you. "I love the dress, but I was thinking about what's underneath."

You wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him. "If it were for you, I would be dining in my lingerie and heels."

He smirked and kissed your neck, hugging you tightly against him. "Oh yes. What a beautiful image you just put in my head."

"If you behave during diner and if the food is good, it won't just be an image in your head."

"I can't wait." He grabbed your hand and lead you to the dining room. The table was set, two candles in the middle and rose petals around it.

"Wow, you outdid yourself." He pulled the chair and you thanked him, sitting down. You placed the bouquet of roses on the chair next to you, reminding yourself to put them in the water later on. While he went to the kitchen to grab dinner, Dodger lay down next to you.

You could smell the food coming from the kitchen. It smelled good. Chris was not the best cook so the good smell also surprised you. Every time he tried to help you in the kitchen, the food would end up burning or some ingredient would be missing.

When he came back and placed the food on the table, you smiled at the sight of your favorite dish, that was not something easy to make.

"How did you-- What?" Saying that you were confused was an understatement. Even when you tried to make it, the smell and look weren't the same. Your mom was always the one that made it delicious. But since your mom, didn't live in the same state, you knew it couldn't have been her.

"I saw the recipe in your cooking book, and knowing how much you like it I asked my mom to help me. She left five minutes before you arrived." He said and you let out an understanding ‘ahm’. "Sorry, babe. You know if I tried to do it, we wouldn't have anything to eat.”

"Yes, I know." You mocked him. 

He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He quickly pecked your lips and sat down in front of you.

The dinner went on and the food was delicious. The ambient was nice. The fireplace was on, the background music was low and the candles made it look even more romantic.

Chris was always the most romantic of the relationship and sometimes you felt bad that you didn't make more effort to demonstrate the love you had for him. Obviously, he knew he was the love of your life and vice versa, but from time to time he always made those kinds of surprises, and what did you do?

"I'm sorry, Chris." You said. 

He took a spoon from your mousse and furrowed his eyebrows at your sudden apology. "Sorry about what?”

You played with the spoon in your hand, while Chris continued eating your mousse, even if his was exactly the same. "I'm sorry I don't make you surprises like this. I'm sorry I'm not romantic. You deserve everything and I'm so unconcerned."

For a second he looked at you astonished before he broke down in a laugh. "What are you talking about? I know how you are and I fell in love with the person you are. I wouldn't change anything about you. I don't care if you're not romantic, you show me how much you love me every day, and it doesn't matter if it's not with a fancy dinner or a gift. I love you just the way you are."

You gave him the biggest smile. You grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"Let's just finish our desserts and I'll kiss you the rest of the night."

You opened your mouth ready to fight him. "What dessert? You ate it all." You looked at the empty cup of mousse while he still had plenty.

"Well, you talk too much and the dessert was just standing there." You tried to grab a spoon from his, but he pulled it away. "Tell you what, you can have me as dessert." He smirked.

You made it look like you were thinking. You pulled a strap of your dress down showing him the red strap of your bra. "We have a deal."

Chris bit his lip and let out a moan. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too, handsome. Now about that dessert..."

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #cevans