and she was really contented with life at the time this was taken

Harry Potter and the Neural Network fan fiction

Or, what happens if you train a neural network on the titles and plot summaries of over 100,000 works of Harry Potter fan fiction.

In the decades since the Harry Potter books were published, fans have written literally hundreds of thousands of Harry Potter stories of their own, and shared them online. Can a neural network join in on the fun?

In a way, everything a recurrent neural network writes is fan fiction. A recurrent neural network looks at an example dataset (such as the complete Sherlock Holmes stories) and teaches itself the patterns and conventions that it sees. So, if it’s given Sherlock Holmes stories, it will become obsessed with Holmes and Watson, and if it’s given knock-knock jokes, it will spend all day telling awful knock-knock jokes of its own.

Thanks to an idea by a couple of readers, some heroic work by @b8horpet in scraping (with permission) hundreds of thousands of Harry Potter fan fiction titles and summaries from AO3, and a flexible new recurrent neural network implementation by Chen Liang, the neural network’s latest obsession is Harry Potter.

The Perfect Party by iamisaac
Draco has been left alone, and Ginny confused must learn and who has his best friend. They were breathed by a love that didn’t become his grounds and the flowers begin.

This is a typical example of the neural network’s fan fiction - romantic pairings of two or more Harry Potter characters (called “ships” in fan fiction-speak). In this case, it even has chosen a plausible author: iamisaac is a real and fairly prolific fan fiction author whose works do tend to be of the “romantic” variety. 

The Garden by perverse_idyll for lexigilite
Ron and Hermione move after a man party. What did her best things go and has to deal with people she loves? How many imperfect love really belonges them and needs to be a person? Or will they learn and more than the war?

Mirror Thing by Queen_Elexhan
“Are you there for a relationship? I was a sad future for your love.”  Harry and Ginny find out the meaning is.

Shatters by Kis [archived by TheHexFiles_archivist ]
Based on the Spot Are It Falls Into A Heir by NextrangeOnTheThree
Draco and Hermione share a whole indescribbening.

Again, “perverse_idyll” and “TheHexFiles_archivist” are fairly active authors. (Hi, if you’re reading! The neural network seems to like your writing, and is writing fan fiction of your fan fiction!) Those familiar with Harry Potter fan fiction will not be surprised to learn that the neural network really likes to generate ships; pretty much every combination of characters is represented (some of the more unusual combinations being “The Snow/Voldemort”, “The Ministry/Draco Malfoy”, and “Voldemort/Random Quidditch Child”).

By turning down the neural network’s creativity setting to near-zero, we arrive at its vision of what the quintessential Harry Potter fan fiction would be like - and we also learn its favorite ship:

Persuading by theladyblack
Harry and Draco are still a second chance at the end of the war.  Will they be able to do with the fairy tale of the first time they were a strange stranger to the street of the war and the war is over?

It turns out the neural network is obsessed with Harry/Draco, although in a pinch, Sirius/Remus will also do.

The neural network also seems to really like stories about Professor Snape trying to do rather ordinary things:

New Moon Boys by Dungoonke for Loki_Kukaka
Severus Snape comes back to a night’s politics.

In the Reason Is Blinders by LittleRoma
Severus has been through his lost remote.

In The Alteri Silence by Forest_of_Holly for roscreens41
Snape receives life after plants to do by work over whether they get into. Just Hell.

A Second Chance by DarkCorgi
Snape had a second thing, and that is better than anything for for the rest of his life.

Mirror by orphan_account
Severus Snape tries to get a lot of dragons and that was to be more than he didn’t expect to continue. He has always been a bit of an old and a baby to stay the way he’d been the brother at Hogwarts and he keeps the chance of meeting…

Deception by FlyingEyes
Snape is a British Robes of interesting things and worrys like a little fun and sees the pretty battle for a while.

Another thing that happened, which is pretty much my favorite thing ever, is that the neural network apparently encountered some fan fiction stories that were not in English. As a result, it learned to do this from time to time:

The Secretary Of the World 
Challenge inspired by GoF and la mating resigns de la mill colors per mereple beruit carteur la pelete el wert rardo completing and herillo intus den una a des rush sentines kelta an transoles… 

Between by Cheyangel13
A series of fivers are unexpectedly depressed and controlled by the bed, with least more from una perfemale erpensa de the maesse akai suidadium dela vida call de la los se terriuus do form en sou dies de fasurard il resisted de for dogs la sementu sein prong colors itu dee adte se sige natard…

The neural network has also learned to employ capital letters:

Les finds love by violet_quill for starstruck1986
Severus Snape wanted him to be more and she likes Draco.  The person he wants an energy to him.  WHALIDE NO GEATIRE SOURR INSPE AHARMANABLISH ALL SOME TO VERY THE RERIDE!!!!!!!

secret Quidditch by snapsleert
Collapse and find the second worst and very different. See Gain and Descent motivate surprising death. Unbusing one of the months: should make more bumo.choooshots. HUGULATED

And the neural network occasionally uses content warnings, although it seems to have a rather fuzzy idea about what to warn its readers about:

Better With The Broom Complicate by Margyn_Black
Tonks gets more than the best girl of creation. (Rated Maturisle, mark, a violence, contract) (slash] part of themes) ferret.

Art for the Sun a Scary by disillusionist9
A collection of warnings: characters and situations of silence.

Some of the neural network’s stories, though, are just plain weird.

Harry Potter and the Painful Eyes by dark_pook
A Birthday drabble about the problems and a woman who shows up a lot less than she checks at Hogwarts in the destiny to the infamous adventure of control of the Art of The Good Boy Kings With Hermione.

Harry and the Blue Special Delicious by apolavia_scg
An unexpected potions messaged in the world their lives are to find friendship following the day of different pagers. James and Lily come to the summer before the war.

The Perfect Cow by alafaye
Severus and Hermione start a horcruxes

Art: Let Draco roll the light of the moon, and means. by Dangelanne
What happens after the war. Not drawn to Draco Malfoy jumpers. Originally written in 2008.

Birds of a Saturday by SasuNarufan13
Harry Potter is drunk and discovers he is an alternate universe.

Holly theody by yesIpxdishoftlyGrinli
What would be dangerous! Side Voldemort Jones does all lord off the sunshine show.

Lily Evans and the Ravenclaw of a Christmas Surprise by ci
Severus angst the truth of a frighten situation for the wink.

Persuasion by Samanthian
The Sorting Hat is fighting in one of the houses.

lily’s family by sharkle
Harry woke up in searching after a werewolf Sherlock’s picnic. He is furious.

As a bonus, I leave you with some fairly-plausible screennames the neural network invented, which appear not to be taken (yet):

desire_at_the_malfoy
SeverelyAshed
fishlingthelovely
thedarklyblue
phantombeers
captainingthetrain
siriusly_harry
DarkVoldember
ChildOfAtSperble
all_frogs
BelladonnaLeek
Sneaking_UnicornWitch
bluemelooppiesweatled

;settle down (m)

pairing— min yoongi x reader, roommate! yoongi
genre/warnings— smut, angst, fluff, slow buuurrrn, enemies to lovers
words— 14,930

:: summary— An unfortunate event finds you living with the man you practically despise over the summer. However, maybe through a series of fortunate events, you find yourself falling for him…

note— this is a remastered version of the originally story I wrote called ‘and july’ (found here) that I wrote for suho back when I started this blog, albeit slightly (very?) different.

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post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

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anonymous asked:

Could you list all of the tropes that you consider "feel good violence"?

Okay, “Feel Good Violence” is very simple as a concept. It’s violence that feels good, when you’re reading it, when you’re watching it on screen, because for the perpetrator violence can feel really damn good. However, that is violence when taken outside of context. It is violence without consequences. It is violence for the sake of violence. Violence that serves no purpose but to prove the character or person is tough.

Protagonist Sanctioned Bullying - Bullying in general is a fairly popular method to achieve “Feel Good Violence” because bullying does feel good. The audience sympathizes with the protagonist, so when the protagonist acts they cheer for it. Its not presented as bullying by the narrative, but it is still bullying. Usually it’s a rival or a character set up to “deserve it”, but sometimes not.

Making people afraid makes you feel tough. Many authors will fall prey to the sweet lure of bullying and not even know it because bullying is violence without fear of consequence. Most often, they’ve been the recipients rather than the perpetrators, and acting as the bully is a very different ballgame. It is an emotional and psychological high. You feel big, strong, safe, and untouchable. Powerful. In their worst incarnations, most superheroes become bullies.

Bullying is all about control, protected status, and freedom from consequences. An entirely fictional world creates the opportunity for all these things, with the narrative itself siding with the bully. Bullying is Feel Good Violence writ large in real life. It’ll follow you into the fictional world just as easily. Power is a high you never forget.

This is very common trope for characters who also act as a means of self-insertion by the author. For them, it isn’t bullying. It’s an example of how awesome their character is and how tough they are.

Everything But Dead - When the only morals applied are if someone died, the rest is sanctioned without comment. There are no narrative consequences for the character’s behavior, and everyone cheers them on. Anyone who calls them out is an acceptable target, usually evil, or the protagonist wins them over in the end because their actions are “justified”.

By Any Means Stupid - This is the “by any means necessary“ trope, where the violence really isn’t necessary and the author just wanted an excuse to paint the room red.

Unprovoked Violence Is Always the Solution - This is the one where the protagonist skips all the other steps and goes straight to preemptive violence against a total stranger, for no reason other than it makes them appear tough. Usually not framed by the narrative as bad, but it is. Oh, yes, it is. Worse there usually aren’t any consequences for the hero physically assaulting someone in a room full of witnesses because everyone knows they’re the hero, right?

Random Violence Before Strangers is A-Okay -  The protagonist disembowels a bully in front of their victim in order to protect them and receives effusive thank yous. Nothing comes from this. The bad guy is dead. We all feel good. All is right in the world. Except… violence freaks people out.

Acceptable Targets - These are people designated by the writer as non-entities and targets for violence regardless of narrative context. A very slippery slope that is ever descending. But, you know, it feels good? Sure, so long as you’re not on the receiving end. This kind of dehumanization happens in real life too, just in case you were wondering.

Beating Up My Source - You have a character who collects information from an old standby, they threaten and beat up that standby regularly to show they’re tough. At what point does this seem like a terrible idea? Never! Hey, they’re a bad person so you feel good, right?

Waving My Gun Around - Trigger discipline is just the beginning of this problem. A gun is not a toy. but you’ll find a vast array of narratives who use it that way in order to look tough.

Killing Your Way to the Top - You can’t really destroy organizations like this. Killing the people at the top will just lead to someone else taking their place. Whenever you create a power vacuum someone will fill it. You can’t destroy an organization by killing. It doesn’t work. But, it feels good!

Must Obviously Be Boy - Because female fighters are unicorns and the mooks have never laid eyes on a woman before. Usually part of a larger narrative issue with violence, but acts as a “get out of jail free” card.

Clear the Building - That time the character decided to knock everyone out to prove that they are tough. Weirder when it happens on stealth missions.

I Am Not Gaining Levels - When you’re reading a book and the character is fighting like it’s a video game. They fight everyone like they’re in an RPG chasing XP. Why? We don’t know, but it makes them feel good.

Let Me Shoot Him Twenty Times - We could call this spray and pray, but let’s pretend for a moment the magazine could run dry.

Magic Bullets - The bullets that go where you want, stop when you want, and don’t cause accidental casualties. You know, like the protagonist blind firing through a wall and hitting a four year old playing in the yard across the street.

Body Armor Always Prevents A Blow-through - Nope!

New to Training, Perfect Sparring - That time the main character took on their evil rival (school’s top/better trained student) in a sparring match and won, especially when it was their first day.

Sparring Just In General - The vast majority of Western media doesn’t understand the concept or purpose of sparring. Many authors seem to think its a UFC match where you just beat each other up and the first thing you do during training to “assess your capabilities”.

Queuing for Combat - This is an old Hollywood trick where the burden of a group fight is lifted as the stuntmen wait their turn to fight the protagonist. Particularly egregious in written action sequences where the author doesn’t grasp the concept of teamwork. It also warps the understanding of how many people its possible for a human to fight at once.

Terrible At Torture - Torture is a terrible way to gain information in general because it doesn’t lead to a confession so much as confirmation bias. The subject will tell you whatever you want to hear because they want the pain to stop. It’s even worse when done poorly, which it is 90% of the time. Usually, media uses it for shock value or to prove how tough a protagonist is. Torture is not putting a blowtorch to someone’s foot and hoping for the best. It’s far, far more complicated than that. Neither torturer nor subject come out of the experience whole. Besides, the unimaginative protagonists say, “screw you!” The clever ones lie.

What Is: Dress for Success - How we dress our characters is often necessary for crafting a sense of narrative realism. This comes in often as a reason for why its so difficult to take female action heroes seriously, but it happens to the guys too. Not a bad trope on its own, but often symptomatic of a larger narrative approach to violence that ends with “feel” and “good”.

Beautiful and Badass - This one is a very specific female fantasy, which is that you can meet all the cultural standards and definitions for beauty while being in direct defiance of them. These are the female characters who are never touched by the combat they engage in. They are always graceful, always elegant, always beautiful in motion and the narrative will pause to tell us this often. “She fights like she’s dancing.” For these characters, their supermodel-esque beauty is a natural extension of their being. They don’t work at it. Combat is incidental. It’s a set piece to tell you how awesome the character is. It generally amounts to nothing, serves no real narrative purpose, but by god the author is going to walk us through it in excruciating detail. Combat and character are separate, and consequences are for other people.

My Instincts Performed A Wheel Kick - Your instincts just don’t work that way.

There’s probably more, but that hits most of the major sins.

Keep in mind that many of these tropes are not issues by themselves. They often work when context and consequences are taken into account by their narrative/setting. Generally, this results in characters with no accountability for their behavior and exhibit no responsibility for their actions. The issue, of course, is that responsibility and accountability are what make well-written violence work. Violence often drives the narrative. It’s part and parcel to who the character is, and their decision making. It’s the difference between a character who presents themselves as tough or skilled and one who actually is.

-Michi

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deal | pt 1 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,366 

part two | part three 


Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste.  As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.

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Pillows - Peter Parker

request -  OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! Can you write a Peter Parker smut where the reader is Tony’s daughter and they’ve dating for a while now and one of the avengers hear them one night and eventually slip it to tony who freaks out because of the funny business in the heardquarters! I hope it makes sense

a/n - i had a lot of fun writing this and this became super duper long i’m sorry if this is a flop like me but don’t forget to request a peter parker / spider - man fic if you’d like and follow!

I was sitting towards the top of my bed, a book sprawled on my lap while the moon was teasing me outside. It was close to one o’clock in the morning, and I found myself not being able to sleep for the second night in a row. My bed was always so cold and stiff at this type of night, and staring at the city view only made me more awake.

I sighed and closed my book, letting out a breath of laziness. It was at that point in the night where my inability to sleep caused me to become frustrated, falling back onto my pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

With my father being the leader of the Avengers himself, I would usually be deprived of sleep since Rogers and Barnes would be talking up a storm at the dining table while my own father and Barton was cracking open a bottle of wine. Everyone within the tower was asleep now, but it was still quite difficult to go to sleep.

I began to think about the other ways I could’ve been passing the time until my eyes became dreary, and then it hit me.

Peter might still be awake.” I thought to myself, heart beginning to pick up it’s pace.

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Homestuck Beach Headcanons

John: hot sand hot sand hot sand *makes it to the water* cold water cold water cold water (this goes on for like an hour before he settles finally). Brought one of those fake shark fins and straps it to the top of his head. He fools no one. Brought approximately 53 kites and loses All of them because Dave said “hey I bet your kites can’t hold up against your windy thing”. He was right. Tells Karkat that the ocean speaks to ppl through conch shells, he holds one up to his ear, nods, “sorry Karkat, the ocean says you’re an idiot”. Karkat is horrified and John is dying trying to keep a straight face.

Dave: has a SBAHJ swimsuit and a SBAHJ surfboard. Challenges Jade to a surf-off. “Are you sure, Dave? I’ve had a lot of practice and it’s not as easy as it looks! I’ve got it, Dave reassures her. How difficult can it be. She warned u, bro. She warned u about the surf. He does not get back in the water. Fills a bucket with crabs of various shapes and sizes throughout the day, at the end he calls Karkat over to where he’s standing by the waters edge. Hey. Hey Karkat. Look what I found. He pours the crabs out at Karkat’s feet. Karkat looks unsettled. Dave. Where did you even find all these crabs Dave. They’re your children Karkat. I did this for you.

Jade: spends the whole day in the water and also she is a surf goddess did I mention that? Doesn’t put any sunscreen in and everyone is concerned but she barely even tans. After getting out of the water she does the Wet Doggo Shake™ Jade can u pls just warn us before u do that pls you’re getting us all soaking wet. Smells suspiciously like wet dog but everyone is too polite to point it out. Helps Dave collect his crabs bc she has an uncanny knack for finding them (she’s sniffing them out with her doggy nose but doesn’t tell Dave bc she wants to show off).

Rose: builds sand castles with Kanaya bc Kanaya is deadass terrified of the ocean. They surpass sandcastle tbh it’s more like a sand palace. Rose found a bunch of nice purpley shells to decorate with and also some rocks that look suspiciously arcane and vaguely powerful. High tide somehow wipes out the group’s chairs but doesn’t touch the sandcastle. Hm. Chastises Dave for building dicks out of the sand. Is there something you’d like to tell us, Dave? *Dave sweating* what’s a penis I don’t even know anyone named Karkat. Rose smiles innocently. Of course not. Throughout the day, Rose brings water for Kanaya to drink and also to dump on her so she can regulate her body temperature. Since she’s a cold-blood her body temp is lower so she overheats v easily.

Kanaya: is deadass terrified of the ocean. Does the detail work on the castle she and Rose are making, carves out little stairs and turrets and makes flags out of spare ribbon she keeps in her bag. It’s beautiful. She cries at the end of the day when they have to leave it even though they’ve taken lots of pictures. . Karkat comes up to her with a conch shell and holds it out to Kanaya, “john told me the ocean said I was an idiot Kanaya what is it saying I can’t hear anything” She takes the conch shell and listens. Mmhm. Yes. Oh My. “What did it say???” It Was Really Quite Rude, I Shouldn’t Repeat It. Karkat is about to cry. Kanaya and Rose secretly fist bump.

Karkat: oh boy this has really been A Day for him. He’s nervous around the ocean already but apparently it thinks he’s an idiot??? He loves the crabs they remind him of his lusus, it was slightly horrifying that Dave put a bunch of them in a bucket for obvious reasons. Wants to be buried in the sand, Jake helps him dig a big hole and he and Dave and Dirk all work together to make it big enough and fill it in afterwards. Dave writes “im gay” underneath Karkat’s head poking out and Karkat yells at him for taking pictures. Sollux falls asleep on his towel and Karkat writes “beefucker” on his forehead.

Terezi: before they got there everyone told Terezi not to lick the sand. Guess what she did. Also, accidentally popped the beach ball with her teeth because she was licking it. There’s a theme here can u find it. Is in the water a lot because Vriska is desperately trying to regulate her body temperature and has v little energy to say mean things which everyone is grateful for. To make her feel better, Terezi engages in wildly uncreative insults that Vriska can easily latch onto without having to put much energy in. “Hey Terezi is the water cold?” I don’t know john, is your FACE cold? “Terezi that doesn’t even make any sense”, your face doesn’t make any sense! She cackles as if this is some High Brow Humor every single time.

Jake: has an irrational fear of seagulls, they keep coming for his food and that makes him nervous because the monsters on his island were one thing but this? This sly and wily creature? Dirk is like,,,buddy,,,it’s just a seagull? It’s just a bird? “They’re eating my fries, Dirk, I won’t stand for it!” Jake has a little ukulele that he knows like five songs on, he sits outside by the boardwalk and just strums it sometimes after dark. One night, two little kids come by and give him 6 dollars in crumpled singles for his playing and he started crying he was so touched.

Jane: is having the TIME of her life, and is also the Mom friend. She’s simultaneously kicking ass at beach volleyball and reminding everyone to put on their sunscreen and reapply every two hours please! She’s also having a good time experimenting with cooking seafood some nights, though once she made the mistake of bringing in crab and Karkat did Not take it well. It took an hour to calm him down. Jane felt awful and made it up to him by buying him a nice hoodie w a happy crab on it. Bought a cute little blue boogie board and hangs out with Jade and Roxy in the water, she’s not very good at it but she likes swimming around a little.

Dirk: he’s that one friend that goes way too hard in casual games tbh. Like, they’re just playing a friendly game of volleyball Dirk can you please stop spiking it every five seconds. The grind never stops, Roxy, don’t hate the player hate the grind. Jane looked at him w so much disappointment in her eyes after he said it that he felt the force of her stare physically and had to take a step back. Tries to show Jake that seagulls aren’t scary by feeding them, but they start attacking him for his fries which does not help prove his point at all.

Roxy: “the babe” Lalonde has been ready for a beach trip her entire life. She is checking out the lifeguards, she’s checking out the other gals and dudes strolling about the beach, she’s got her best friends with her, what more could she want??? She buys a cutesy pink surfboard and Dave makes fun of her for it and she smiles sweetly. Oh sorry Dave? I forgot you were so good at surfing?? No one knows how or when Roxy learned to hang ten but THERE SHE GOES. She finds a lot of pretty shells and rocks and sand dollars and is just enthusiastic about everything tbh. She brightens everyone’s mood always.

Calliope: cherubs can’t float so Roxy’s overprotective ass won’t let her near the water unless someone is with her and making sure she’s safe. This is Fine with calliope bc that means that she’s never alone and therefore she’s never lonely and really that’s all she’s ever wanted so!! She’s v content to watch Jade and Roxy surf, she will sit w Jane sometimes when she isn’t in the water. She also likes digging for sand crabs with Karkat bc she likes their little legs. She wants to dig deep enough to find a lobster and no one has the heart to tell her that’s not how it works.

Sollux: this idiot. This boy. My sweet sweet son. Makes the horrible mistake of falling asleep on his towel. He was underneath the big umbrella when he started, but as the sun moves and he’s not putting on more sunscreen?? John, Dave, and Karkat take it upon themselves to not only write “beefucker” on his forehead, but also draw dicks on his whole body in sunscreen so he burns (trolls turn a darker shade of their blood color) and ends up with these pale gray dicks surrounded by a horrible dark, mustardy burn.

Honestly gettin’ pretty sick of people coming to me to trash Joseph whenever I say he’s a complicated character with a lot of nuance, so hey, here’s my take on the whole Mary-Robert-Joseph situation.

I’ll put this all under a cut so here are some disclaimers; This is full of spoilers, I’m writing this under the assumption that all the cult end stuff is non-canon, and yes, this is only one possible interpretation of the information we can glean from the character interactions (also, taken from what may later prove to be incomplete information as more endings are unlocked/glitches are fixed/content is released). I like it because I think it’s the most interesting and empathetic for all of the characters involved and because I don’t think it’s the kind of situation that necessarily has to have a “villain”.

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Jealousy Games 02

Description: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride.

Pairing: JungkookxReaderxJimin

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 6.2k

Index: 01, 02, 03

Warnings: Jungkook’s POV, masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism. 

A/N: Alright y’all. Here it is. After this chapter, we can officially head into everything @ellieljade and I have planned. You’re not ready, tbh. As always, thank you to Nicole for being my beta and soundboard. 

Enjoy~!

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Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

anonymous asked:

Can I request for bakugo, todoroki and eijiro with their s/o spending some fluffy cute time alone at home. How do they spend their relaxing home-date night with their s/o? Thank you very much.

Hi dear! Obviously you can, I was looking forward this. What a fantastic ask you sent! I really enjoyed writing those head canons for you! I’m feeling all giddy now and really, those boys are the best.

 I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

Bakugou

  • You can tell that is going to be a relaxing, home-date night in the exact moment you see him. Bakugou, at the thought, can’t stop himself from showing small happy grins when he thinks you’re not looking and tends to hum softly his favorite songs.
  • He cooks, as usual since he’s really good at it, but goes out of his way to ask what you would like to eat. During the dinner, he continuously glances at you, trying to not be seen, to understand if you really like what he cooked. Not that he doesn’t believe to your praises, but it feels more gratifying to just look at your shining eyes and delighted expression while eating.
  • Usually after dinner, you wash the dishes and clean the kitchen while he takes a shower. However, on those nights, Bakugou insists to do it together with some random excuses; one washes, the other dries and both of you enjoy the silent presence of the other or tell each other how the day went.
  • Afterwards, you have the tradition to watch a movie together, while eating snacks and sweets, sometimes feeding each other playfully. He likes to pull you closer and wrap an arm around your shoulders, while you rest against his chest.
  • And you really love movie’s night, but you would really like, for once, to see the film till the end. Unluckily, it seems something impossible: it doesn’t matter which type of movie you choose (you’ve tried action movies hoping he was going to get caught by the plot and explosions, and even romantic movie to bore him to the point of falling asleep) but it’s going to end always in the same way. Before the ending, if you’re lucky, (In the middle of it if you’ve pushed his switch), he starts distracting you by caressing your waist or your tight; then he nuzzles against the crook of your neck and leaves a trail of soft kisses on the skin from the cheeks to the shoulders. Finally, those kisses become playful bites; just to be sure he has your complete attention. And, let’s be honest, it doesn’t matter how much time passes, you are never going to have enough resistance to continue watching the movie.
  • The only times it doesn’t end like this, is when you had a tiring day and so, you fall asleep before he can start tempting you. In those cases, growling complains he just switches off the TV and picks you up in bridal style to carry you to the bed. As a pouty punishment, he leaves a big hikey on you neck while you’re sleeping.
  • When you two watch romantic movies, obviously thanks to your insistence and much to his boredom, you force him to repeat and act the cheesy lines the male protagonist says. The problem is that he changes the words so much and pronounces them in a so deadpanned, annoyed or incredulous way that it always ends up with you laughing to your heart content.

“Nobody in the whole world could ever divide us.”

“I’m going to fucking kill the first who tries to divide us.”

“You’re the star of my life, the hope of my existence and the light in the darkness that guides me.”

“You’re a freaking fizzy, glowing mass of matter that I seems to love and follow everywhere like an idiot for unknown motives…Oi, s/o stop laughing! It’s not my damn fault if they’re idiots! Why the hell a stupid, far away star? Don’t they know what a star is made of? Shit, this is dumb, not romantic. I would just kiss the hell out of you and end it there. I hope she breaks up with him.”

Kirishima

 

  • Home-date nights with Kirishima are the funniest; he really loves them and becomes happy and excited as a child, continuously surprising you with sudden pecks, lifting and spinning you in the air or hugging from behind.
  • The two of you start by trying to cook together, however your experiments doesn’t always end well, even because Kirishima can be very clumsy. So, if you don’ manage to save the dinner in time, the nearer pizzeria is now used to your sudden calls.
  • Washing the dishes includes poking each other with bubbling, wet sponges and splashing with water; no need to say that this can easily transform in real water battles. If this happens, you then have an excuse to enjoy a warm bath together. Nothing is better than relaxing and floating in Kirishima’s arms.
  • Then you always do something different; sometimes you play videogames, do session of crazy karaoke, play “have you ever…” with crazy challenges, watch matches or action movies on the TV or, your favorite, playfully wrestle on the bed.
  • You two are very competitive when you fight, armed with pillows, sheets and blankets, screaming and laughing loudly. The thing that you like the most is the fact the, in any case, Kirishima always treats you with the outmost carefulness and kindness. He pays a lot of attention to hit you lightly and not hurt you, controlling his force and being sure he’s not going to accidentally use his Quirk. Even when he has finally pinned you down on the mattress, (yeah, sorry but he usually wins), you can feel that the hold around your wrists is very light; firm, because he likes to win, but kind, no bruises are going to remain.
  • Well, once he has caught you, he reasonably decides to torture with tickle and stops only when you beg for it with tears in the eyes for the laughter. He then smoothers you with kisses.

“Ne, s/o who’s the stronger, manlier hero ever?”

  • You win only when you play dirty. A sudden kiss that makes him falter, puppy eyes that make him hesitate or faking being hurt (not seriously) to make him let down his guard. Obviously, using those techniques makes the battle ending with him kissing every inch of you too.

Todoroki

  • Nothing is more relaxing than a home-date night with Todoroki.
  • The two of you race to come back home earlier than the other to surprise them by cooking. This usually ends with both of you arriving at the same time and deciding to cook together.
  • However, Todoroki always buys you your favorite dessert and gives it to you at the end of the dinner as a surprise. Or sometimes a flower, a cute hairpin or everything else that during the week has caught his attention and reminded him of you.
  • Todoroki is a big cat. He doesn’t ask for cuddles, he just takes them when he feels the need. Without warning, he drapes himself over you and kisses you, or hugs you from behind nuzzling against your neck, or rest his head on your lap and “force” you to stroke his hair.
  • You usually just cuddle together, talking about everything. The week, something funny that happened, searching comfort if one of you is troubled or just telling something about yourselves. You two chat ‘till you start dozing and he picks you up or guides you by the hand to the bedroom.
  • Other times, you read together or Todoroki reads aloud for you. You also watch movies: you like to choose tragic or scary ones. In the first case he’s going to comfort you with a lots of cuddles and reassuring words; in the second, you can be as clingy as you want and he is going to repeat you that it doesn’t matter what is going to happen, is always going to protect you, so you don’t have to be scared. Moreover, his deadpanned expression even during the most scary scenes and the cold, filled with common sense and perplexed comments about what’s going on are amusing.

“Why she should open that door if she knows all the others are dead? Ah, she’s also without any weapon, she should have taken that baseball bat. I bet she’s going to die.”

  • Depending on the season, you curl against one or the other’s side of the boy, who finds it very amusing.
  • A bath together is a necessity. A long, warm, bubbly bath to relax and enjoy the intimacy.
  • When there’s the right weather, you take a blanket, some pillows and sweets, and exit on the balcony. There you sit down, Todoroki caging you between his legs and wrapping his arms around your waist, and you two look at the stars together, telling made-up stories about the constellations.
  • Todoroki always remembers to give you a goodnight kiss.

trimax-na-boken  asked:

But WBC is real with actual documented incidents. What has a real SJW ever actually done besides make stupid people feel uncomfortable on the Internet

There is no such thing as “a real SJW”.  “Social justice warrior” was always a negative label from the beginning, created to designate those that are not representing social justice as it should be (kind of like how the term “weekend warrior” is used to describe someone who’s normally boring from Monday through Friday, but goes out of their way to indulge themselves irresponsibly on the weekends in an attempt to compensate).  Wearing that label unironically is like publicly proclaiming that you’re a bigot.  You’re utilizing the No True Scotsman logical fallacy here.  Also, the fact that you said “make stupid people uncomfortable on the internet” really doesn’t reflect well on you, especially when the majority of anti-SJWs are liberals, LGBTA people, minorities, etc. that are simply “uncomfortable” with how you’re poorly representing what we believe in.  The fact that there even is a divide between people that all desire equality just goes to show that someone is doing it wrong (hint: It’s not the anti-SJWs).  If anything, you’re just showing people exactly the kind of attitude that people hate about SJWs.  It’s the fanaticism.  It’s the extremism.  There are people who simply have faith in a higher power, and then there are people like WBC, who actively use that faith to try to harm others.  This is why they’re really the perfect analogy when discussing what SJWs are to activism.

In any case, are you sure you want me to answer this?  Because I don’t think you’re going to like what you see.

What has tumblr done, you ask?:

    Meanwhile, the sane people of tumblr mocked the shit out of them for intentionally kicking the hornet’s nest, and then whining when they got stung.

    Why?  Because 4chan contributed over $23k to it. 

    I’m sure all of this doesn’t even come CLOSE to what SJWs have done overall.  I could probably spend weeks finding all sorts of bullshit to put on here.  I openly invite others to add onto this, as I’m sure there’s a lot that’s been left out (@takashi0 might have a list on hand).

    This is why people are against “social justice warriors”.  They are NOT representing social justice.  They are NOT supporting equality.  They are only giving liberals, activists, women, minorities, and the LGBTA community a bad name.

    Yuri on Ice BD audio commentary translation - Volume 3

    Translation of the audio commentary of the BD/DVD vol.3, by Mitsurou Kubo and Junichi Suwabe, voice actor of Victor Nikiforov. I really wanted to post this before the weekend because I’m not going to be home a lot, so I decided “well, I might just not sleep tonight and translate this instead”… This time there are some parts that I translated almost integrally. They talk a lot about Victor, especially Suwabe’s struggle to get into the role. It provides insight while at the same time not providing… since apparently it’s very hard to guess what is “right” when talking about Victor. I’m sure you will get what I mean if you read what they say…

    The commentary is only for episode 6. Episode 5 has no commentary. It’s not a full translation but I summarized most of what they said, and as I wrote above some parts are almost completely translated. As in the previous ones, the format is different from normal interview translations, and you can find my comments too (mostly in brackets).

    Translation under the post because it’s long. Enjoy!


    Keep reading

    To Steal A Kiss

    Summary: As a mild criminal, you make a bold move to pick-pocket a suspicious looking stranger, but you may have picked the wrong target. (Bucky x reader)

    Request/Prompt(s): Can you do this “I kissed you as a distraction while stealing your wallet” with Bucky x reader? Thanks!

    Warnings: swearing

    Word Count: 1933

    A/N: Ok first, I do not condone theft. Second, I’m so glad someone picked this one!!! :D This was such a fun idea!

    Originally posted by allthisherostuff

    “We’ve been here for over an hour!” you whined, pacing the small empty room, dust particles swirling up into the sunlight with each step. “When do we make the drop?”

    “When I’m ready,” your partner hissed, clearly annoyed with your impatience, “We’re the ones with the goods, they’ll wait and right now I’ve got a lurker that’s been hanging around at the corner for too long.”

    “Lemme see.” You pushed your way to the window, picking up the heavy binoculars from the floor.

    “Big guy. Army green coat, and black hat, northeast corner.”

    Keep reading

    Pride and Prejudice, and Consent

    Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive relationship analysis!

    One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her. Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with passion—even love.

    Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

    Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection, seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed by her refusal to accept them.

    Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.

    Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.“

    Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman: she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his bounds.

    The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is that she cannot be serious in her refusal. 

     "I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

    So elevated is his own sense of self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she said:

      “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”

    What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:

      “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

      “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”

    And again:

      "When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

      “Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”

    And again:

       "You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.“

       ”I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“

    And again:   

    "You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

    In fact, Collins only stops pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously, we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to act this way.

    By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means, Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:

       "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.“

    The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she explain why she rejected him, but rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.

    After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an apology that he has occupied her for so long:

       "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

    This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.

    But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter, convincing her to give him another chance?

    No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.

    It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not demands) that she read it:

    “Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?“

    Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her wishes clear:

     "Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. 

    While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in mind.

    When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:

     "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”

    Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family. Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).  

    How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved. During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.

     But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

       "It taught me to hope,“ said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

    What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and accepted it.

    “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

    Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of consent, I think we can do better in our own time.


    EDIT: Continued here.

    Humans are Weird-Death

    Hey guys, so I wanted to add to the humans are weird thing that’s going around, and this kinda came to me in the shower, so…enjoy?

    Zah Rem was dying. They knew it the moment the Ra-Sek corridors of the station began to feel cold. It had been easy to dismiss the chill at first. The Humans always kept the main corridors to a barely tolerable 24 degrees Celcius, the Terran unit of heat. So Zah Rem had kept to Ra-Sek corridors, content to survey the movement of their officers from the comfort of warmer areas.

    But then they had Stopped in the Ra-Sek sustenance area. The area was used infrequently as most of the new officers preferred to communal sustenance area, and so some time had passed before a Terran ensign accidentally stumbled across them. The human had run to get help, and that’s how Zah Rem found themself in the infirmary, a heat unit glowing above their bed as machines monitored every pulse of their internal fire.

    To the Ra-Set, the Cooling was a very private matter. It was some small mercy really- a natural death for a Ra-Sek happened over the course of only days, and after the initial passing ceremony the Ra-Sek left the dying in peace to contemplate their life. At least, that’s how it had been before.

    A human, mouth closed in a Ra-Sek neutral expression, sat at the end of their bed, eyes occasionally flicking between the machines and their pad. This one was the human counterpart of Zah Rems previous station and they knew this one well. She would not be leaving unless the dying process miraculously reversed. Humans always seemed to treat this like a logical possibility.

    Zah Rem had lived such a long time, even for a Ra-Sek. They had seen the rise of space travel for their people, the first contacts with other races, some friendly, some hostile. They had seen stars flicker out of existence. And then, they had seen the arrival of Terrans. What a ludicrous, terrifying thing that had been.

    The humans had arrived in strange, nonsensical machines seemingly only barely capable of long distance space travel. Most of them had arrived asleep. The Ra-Sek had initially been very wary of this smaller race. Humans could regulate their own body temperatures. Humans lived short lives but took life-threatening risks, seemingly for pleasure. Humans reproduced quickly and freely, having offspring even in space, so far from their own world. Humans would fight, losing limbs they could not regenerate, and then fight more.

    In short, they were too dangerous not to make allies of. And so the Ra-Sek had, and in their many years, Zah Rem considered this one of the wisest choices of their people. The humans had helped them explore planets previously thought uninhabitable. They had seen human shipmates run headfirst into aggressive unknown flora and fauna and categorize it, collect it, and make it known. In one instance, they had seen the entire brunt of humanity brought to bear on a now extinct warmongering race, simply because this race had been dubbed “bullies that don’t play fair”.

    The human shifted in her chair. “Hey dragon, still alive?”

    Zah Rem exhaled a plume of steam. They knew this word referred to them, and that it was a reference to a Terran creature that may have never even existed. They had seen a picture once, and they did see the similarities to a Ra-Sek. That didn’t mean they had to answer.

    The human sighed and flicked her eyes up and across, a human gesture of annoyance. “I know you’re alive, your monitors are going. I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

    “Need? I am dying, there is nothing more I need.”

    The human curled her upper lip, almost perfectly mimicking the Ra-Sek gesture of annoyance. Human mimicry really was uncanny. “I know that, but, is there anything you want? Water? Food? A book? Are you just…gonna sit there until it happens? Aren’t you…y’know, uneasy?”

    Now that was a strange word to use for this state, and Zah Rem wondered if their translator had translated the Terran Common incorrectly. “Uneasy? Why would I be…Uneasy?”

    The general shifted in her chair again, suddenly transfixed by her pad. “Well, I mean, are you…afraid?”

    Zah Rem tilted their head, trying to mimic a gesture they had seen humans use. “Why would I be afraid? I am dying, this is a normal process for all living things.”

    The human seemed frustrated, and Zah Rem once again saw the wisdom of their own tradition of leaving the dying to cool in peace.

    “I know that! I just mean…aren’t you afraid of what happens next? Like, to you…after you die?” her shoulders curled inwards.

    After…death? Zah Rem snorted. “Nothing happens after death. Death is the end of life…is it…is it not so for Terrans?” A pang of fear twitched in Zah Rem’s core. Humans…died completely, true? They thought of all their deceased human shipmates the other humans had burned, or buried under soil, and suddenly they were…uneasy.

    The general waved at the air “Don’t call us that. And yeah, yeah, human’s die all the way too-“Relief. “But, some humans…we have this…idea, that a part of us, the sentient part, lives after we die. And, I don’t know where it goes, but death comes to collect it, and guide it to where it’s supposed to go next.”

    “Death…comes? As in, the concept of death is…sentient? and… travels to the location of the dying to take their consciousness? Where? Why?” Zah Rem’s internal fire quivered, and the monitors began to chirp and hum in complaint.

    “Woah woah take it easy!” Their human counterpart stood, touching their forelimb gently. This gesture would have been aggressive among Ra-Sek, but they had long since learned that humans touched other beings freely. Her hand was warm, and the heat soothed Zah Rem’s own heat. The monitors quieted.

    “Y’know what? Forget I said anything, it’s just a dumb Terran myth. You wanna see this picture of a cat I found?”

    And, for once, Zah Rem really, really did.

    The next few days passed quietly. Healers checked the monitors as discreetly as possible and the general was a constant presence, sneaking back in every time the Ra-Sek healers shooed her out. For the most part, she worked on her pad, guiding the directors of her officers. Zah Rem was mildly envious of this, but they felt the cooling settling in, and they were content to reflect on past action instead.

    Well, mostly content. Try as they may, Zah Rem could not shake the idea of death as a sentient presence, and tendrils of fear began to snake into the waiting, fear that, like in so many impossible ways, the humans might be right about death. They did not want their consciousness to be taken. They took to scanning the room when their human wasn’t looking.

    This fear was probably what exacerbated the process. It happened suddenly, their internal temperature falling, falling, and the general was shouting, calling for help and Zah Rem knew they were beyond help, nothing could help, but they were so afraid of Death being attracted by the cries, if only they could-

    And suddenly they were alone in a space that was not bright, and was not dark. They…no longer felt cold, but not warm either. It made Zah Rem…uneasy. And then they heard footsteps, and in the distance there was a small flicker of light.

    The light drew closer and closer, and with it Zah Rem began to make out a figure in strange clothing. The figure wore long, black clothing that flowed downward, with a hood that obscured the head. It was carrying a long stick with what looked like a small ball of fire on top. They also saw the glint of long, sharp looking metal, reminiscent of a Terran knife.

    Zah Rem bared their teeth. A weapon. This must be Death. If it was, it wouldn’t steal their sentience without a fight.

    The figure closed in.

    “Stop. Come no further.” Zha Rem growled. “I am Zah Rem of the Ra-Sek. I have seen races rise and fall. I have seen stars flicker out of existence. I have fought alongside humans. I will not let you take my consciousness.”

    There was a moment of silence. And then a strange sound came from the hooded figure. A soft, musical sound, not unlike a Ra-Sek trill, very much like…a human laugh. The figure lowered it’s hood.

    Of course, Death would be a human.

    Zha Rem felt the anger leave them all at once. The human smiled, mouth closed, and reached its dark hand out to touch Zha Rem’s forelimb. Their touch was warm, and Zha Rem felt the warmth coil around  their core, lighting it once again.

    “Are you ready to come with me?”

    And Zah Rem found they were.

    12 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

    BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

    WORD COUNT: 5,987

    series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, torture, death, light smut

    Originally posted by younas

    masterlist | ask | prev | next

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    I Found You (Loki Laufeyson Soulmate AU)

    Summary: (Y/n)’s soulmate tattoo is Loki in Nordic runes and now thinks fate is playing with her and he doesn’t exist because they gave her a mythological god. During the battle of NY (y/n) happens to meet him but what occurs once the battle is over? Her soulmate is the most hated man on the planet.

    A/n: So I changed the MCU storyline a bit as well where Clint had met Steve before the battle of New York.

    Warnings: There’s some physical harassment from a male co-worker on the reader so possible TRIGGER WARNING, and remember if this happens to you, report it and if nothing is done about it, definitely call the police. (Be safe y’all, we don’t all have Steve Rogers to our rescue)

    Masterlist

    Gif is not mine, credit to @lokitty

    Originally posted by lokitty


    Your name: submit


    “Jeremy!”

    A young man approached, thanking and taking his coffee from (y/n). She huffed, overtime she called out someone’s name, she always somewhat hoped that her soulmate would mysteriously appear. She’d had her soulmate tattoo since it appeared at age 12, like everybody else, except hers, wasn’t even English. It was in Nordic Runes, something people didn’t use to name their kids. (Y/n) had found out at 16 when she went looking for her soulmate after being teased for her strange tattoo. She was desperate to prove to everyone, her soulmate wasn’t a freak; he/she was unique and deserved love. She, after all, being in foster homes all her life, believed she could give this to them.

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    High school reunion AU for @zimmbitty who planted the idea in my head. I hope my loss sleep makes you happy.

    -

    An AU where Jack and Bitty happened to go to the same high school for maybe a year or two. (Here their age difference is around 3 years.)

    How you ask? Coach is filling in temporarily maybe not as a Football coach but in some other position. It doesn’t matter *waves hands to misdirect from possible plot holes* just go with it…

    Bitty is still into figure skating and in this high school, they have an actual ice skating ring in the premises!!!

    And his skating lessons are usually before the hockey team plays. At first, he avoids the team but slowly realises they didn’t really care what he did so long as he left the ice on time.

    Then Bitty started watching the practices and hockey looked kind of fun, (if you ignored the checking…) and maybe if he got into hockey he and Coach would have more stuff in common to talk about.

    So one day after hockey practice is over, Bitty sneaks back into the ice with a broken hockey stick he found in the dumpster and put back together with duct tape and a flatted out can, and starts trying to get a hang of how the sport works.

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    • hi, it’s me, back at it again w/ the (mostly) non-sexual intimacy
    • I would very much like to discuss soft baths and andreil today bc i had a fucking fantastic bubble bath and i think everyone should have more of them so buckle up my dudes
    • (also we’re operating in a little au in which college dorms have baths bc i do what the fuck i want) 
    • it starts mostly just bc andrew likes to have baths, he likes to sit there for ages in the soapy water and let it relax his muscles after tough training for stupid sports and adds hot water when it gets cold and he is short enough that his whole body can be under water (lucky bastard) 
      • he likes to hold his breath under water and enjoy how everything feels muffled and distant and separate and like nothing else matters for a minute so he usually has baths when he’s having a bad day, with a locked door and soft pyjamas and hot chocolate waiting for when he comes out
    • it also happens in part bc Allison likes two things a lot 
      • 1 - buying things for her friends
      • 2 - lush bath bombs 
    • so she combines this and decides that neil Needs some bath bombs bc we all know this boy is shit at self-care so allison is trying to get him to take actual care of himself bc she is an Excellent friend 
    • one day she comes to visit armed with a bag of lovely smelling stuff, shoves it at neil and tells him to take a fucking bath 
    • neil is sorta stunned (poor boy still isn’t great at accepting gifts but between andrew’s eden’s outfits and allison’s enthusiasm for gift-giving he’s been getting better) and he just sort of mumbles out a thank you and allison gives his cheek a soft pat
    • neil takes them all back to his dorm and lays them all out and smells them all and some are too strong but most of them are so nice and he actually likes the idea of them a lot and makes plans to take an actual bath this weekend for the first time in years 

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