#He's literally an unreliable narrator!

[captainsploosh]

Ivan: The Unreliable Narrator

IVAN YOU FLIPPING LIAR. HE WAS LOOKING ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about Eddie learning Buck will be there for him off the job, even without Chris being in the equation.

Something something about that being an important realisation for him to finally make because he’s always hidden behind his son when it comes to Buck (and his love life more generally - even Shannon in reality was for Chris not himself) but he won’t be able to this time.

Something something about that realisation being the key to giving himself permission to examine his heart and feel his true feelings.

[aroaceleovaldez]

HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.

The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[nesperus]

maybe something sparrow related? maybe him and little lark being mischievous, or him with rebecca if ur thinking older!! i just really love how u draw all the oaks

little different than what i normally do but can we cut him some slack

[brisquad-unit-4402]

being gorgeous

HAHA SORRY I'M A LITTLE LATE TO THE 2.0 REVEAL THIRST PARTY i passed out while writing this yesterday and it shows. and then i've done nothing else today except for write, eat a donut, write, reheat some pork chops, write, join an online meeting, and write. it's 8:23 am. bonus points if you can pinpoint the exact moment i dropped my phone and fell asleep last night. and also the point where it turned morning here and i started getting goofy. literally no matter what happens all roads lead to Oh My God Why Is Shu So Beautiful

funny story while i was writing this: i wrote p much all of this on my pc and i have all of the noctyx puppets around my desk area but taichou is the only one that's actually on the desk and when i was starting out for the day i couldn't concentrate because he was just staring at me like ._. so i turned him around to face the wall and somehow that was what kicked off 3631 words???

shoutout to 🍰 anon for making soooo many of my neurons activate. we have a mutualistic symbiotic relationship and i think i'm going to go insane. i've spent the better part of the last 24 hours just writing this and nothing else i think i've actually lost it.

tags: established relationship, suggestive content, making out, 2.0 outfit, praise kink, humiliation kink, hurt/comfort, self-image positivity ig?, soft dom reader, gender neutral reader, sex references under the read more but there's no actual sex lol

⚠ suggestive/sexual content, praise kink, and humiliation kink under read more. content under read more is not intended for minors

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All that muscle, and still Shu finds himself between a wall and a hard place. He wanted to try on something new, and naturally you were the first to check him out.

And, God, you checked him out. He wore a loose black robe covered in the skeletons and bones you were so used to seeing on a daily basis. The robe nearly grazed the floor of the changing room, and as he shuffled his feet, the fabric wrapped around the outline of Shu’s strong calves before returning to rest. A plume of fur adorned one shoulder while the other bore a moon pauldron that only drew your eye to the broad shoulders underneath. He tied his long hair up into a ponytail, the dark interrupted by streaks of pink and blond by his bangs, and purple hair fell down his back and caught the gleam of his bright eyes.

Though those bright eyes were cloudier with the shyness of being the center of your attention. He resolved himself to confront it. He cleared his throat and met your gaze, and asked, “Do you like it?”

“Shu, look at yourself.” You grasped him by the shoulders and turned him around to face the mirror. “Of course I do. You’re beautiful.”

He tried to keep a straight face, but there was no way he’d be able to hide his red ears with his hair tied up. “How do you just say things like that so easily?”

“Because it’s true,” you said. You rested your chin on his shoulder, right next to the armor, and watched the mirror as his face turned to roses the same shade as the marking on his forehead.

You get comfortable. “You’ve always been so handsome no matter what you do.” Your hands hold him by his waist, but it doesn’t take you long before one roams upwards. His waistline slopes out to his chest, and you feel Shu’s body shift as your hand slides under the fabric and cups one side of his chest. The mirror serves as a reminder that you were practically on top of him. “But honestly, Shu, you look so hot I can’t believe it.”

“I- I do?”

You mutter in agreement before you kiss his neck, languid and low where it meets his collarbone.

Shu gasps in surprise as it turns passionate, traces of your teeth along skin usually hidden by his hair. He softens into you as you fondle him, and when you circle his nipple he knows he’s doomed.

Teeth sink into his skin, and his breath hitches at the sudden pain. It quiets as your tongue soothes the mark, and goes blinding as you flick his nipple in time with a long lick. Shu can’t help but moan at that. His shoulder rises as nervous energy drips down his body from where your lips cling to his neck, and he knows you can feel him tremble as you toy with his nipple.

The kisses rise higher on his neck, a line of desperation even though you know you have all the time in the world. It’s more like you need to make him know he’s cherished. You weren’t kidding when you complimented him earlier; he’s always been good-looking, and you’ve never been shy about that. But trying a different look made him just as tense as he was excited, so you’re here to shoo all those insecurities away. After all, you’d be lying if you said his new look didn’t turn you on.

You take a glance at the mirror's reflection. Shu's eyes are shut. His long lashes flutter between his makeup, and his lips are parted as he takes all the sensations in. Meanwhile, you look sly and calculated as you cast a sideways glance to your reflection. A bit of your tongue pokes out of your mouth and along your latest attack.

Using the mirror, you take Shu's head in your hands as your lips run over his ear. His eyes snap open into lovely crystal, stunned and sparkling.

“I don’t think I can resist you,” you whisper. "Look at yourself."

He averts his eyes. "I mean, I'm not all that."

"Oh, you are." You turn him to the mirror as your fingers glaze along his chin. Your nails lightly scratch at his jawline, and he can't help but stare at the movement in the mirror.

Out of the corner of his vision, he catches his expression and nearly kicks himself. Was he really that out of control? His horrors are realized when he notices the bead of saliva at the corner of his mouth. He swats the back of his gloved hand over it.

But you catch Shu's hand before he can even wipe it away. "Don't."

"But..."

"Stay still."

Following your command wasn't so hard. He was frozen in place anyways.

It takes everything he has to not react as you drag your tongue up his jawline between the fingernail scrapes. His heart hammers as your lick curls perfectly around his lip to catch the saliva before sliding it back into place inside his mouth.

He follows what feels natural, and when his tongue meets yours, fire runs in your blood. Outside it, too. Sorcerous flames kick alive around his head, then fade just as quickly as they appeared. He's a light show even in his invisible unconscious, and sparks course in your open-mouthed kiss in jolts of hot heaviness.

The hand that caught his earlier leads him as he takes a step back, then another, and his third ends flush against the wall. Shu's ponytail swirls around from the movement, and brushes along your body as you pin him to the wall of the changing room.

There's a loud smack as you end the kiss, breathless and heated. Shu's lashes blur over his enchanted purple eyes, and a few strands of black and gold-blond hair get in the way of his face.

"So handsome," you say, and move his head back to the mirror. "You can still see yourself?"

He barely rustles out a yes, but you feel his head nod slowly between the nails on his jaw and tangled in his hair.

"Good. I'm glad you get to see how handsome you really are." Your grasp crawls up to his cheek. "Watch yourself, and don't dare to look away. I want you to see yourself become a beautiful mess. Can you do that for me?"

Another nod, slower this time.

"Say it."

Shu swallows, and struggles to put the words together. He didn't think he was ugly per se, but he always thought of himself as just plain average. One of the many so-so faces out there in the world. All your praise breaks through those thoughts like an arrow smack-dab in the center of a target, however, and he's abashed at how easily you can say something he's never considered himself as.

It's unfamiliar. A new feeling, really, and likely the one he was dreading when he decided to wear something new for a change. Shu doesn't consider himself a head-turner—that's usually reserved for one of his friends, and he's used to watching them in the limelight from his own comfortable corner of darkness—so now that he's the one against the wall with eyes on him and nowhere to run, hot shame tempers his blush. The mirror only intensifies the feeling.

He looks back at himself. His hair's already messed up from the hand against his scalp, and one side of his neck peppered with the indentation of fangs along the soft skin. Not to mention his decidedly uncute face, with hands far prettier than his own around his jawline, murky eyes crinkled from his perverted pleasure, and yet another string of saliva down from his swollen-red lips. It was probably left over from the kiss. He thinks he should call it disgusting.

Your face rests along his in the mirror, and he can feel your breath on his cheek as you massage his flustered face. You're way more attractive than he is, and he has to wonder: does such an average-looking guy like him really deserve to have such a beautiful person dote over him like this?

"It's okay to indulge yourself, you know," you suggest. Your voice is golden caramel and rich chocolate. "You really are gorgeous. Even if you don't believe it."

Gorgeous. The word bounces around his head. He's never been called gorgeous before, and he nearly turns away on instinct.

The new feeling, he decides, is being gorgeous.

You smooth over one of the long locks of hair along his chest, where you teased him earlier. It feels like silk through your fingers, and as you reach higher Shu's eyes widen just a little more. Then you see the glassiness between the color, and you realize there's more going on in his head than you thought.

"I'll take care of you, if you want me to." You put your agenda on hold just to make sure you aren't about to overwhelm Shu. "Do you want me to?"

"Reader, do you really think..." Shu lowers his head as he fights to form the sentence. "You really think I'm... that?"

"I do."

"And you're not just saying that?"

"You are, I swear. Here, let's take a break real fast." You step away and give Shu some space, but he keeps his back against the wall. He exhales, and the color drains from his face. “Stop me if you need me to. But when we met, I thought you were really pretty. I really liked your sense of style, and the colors in your hair, and I liked to sneak looks at your biceps." You laugh a little at that. "I love your eyes a lot. They're really bright, and whenever you smile, they always squint a little.

"That's one of the other things I really love about you, whenever you smile. You like to laugh. So you smile often, and it's always because they're something to be happy about, and that makes me happy too. Sometimes because it affects me too, and sometimes, just because I love whenever my partner gets to enjoy himself."

You scratch the back of your head. "And, um, I came off a little strong when I saw you, so I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to do that at all. It's just that I got used to seeing your usual outfit, so now that you're trying something new..." You laugh again, but this time it's a gentle giggle, and without lust fueling you, you feel a bit embarrassed. "I mean, I really did think you were beautiful before, especially once we got closer, and I got to explore you more. But this is a whole other level. You've really outdone yourself. Like, I couldn't even hold back when I saw you, I was just so attracted to you that I didn’t even think. I really should have, though. I didn’t mean to cross a boundary.”

Shu’s eyebrows raise. “What? You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that…”

He trails off. He slumps over and slides down the wall with a sigh as he sits. His ponytail rests along the floor and along one of his sleeves. "I know you compliment me often, but I never thought you seriously meant it. No one's ever said things like that to me before."

"Really?" You sit next to him. "Should I stop?"

"No! No, you're fine. I mean. I think... It's not like I didn't like it." Shu buries his face into his hands and groans. "I really liked it, actually. I think it was just too new, and it's second nature for me to deny how good it feels, and—" He cuts himself off to muster up his courage. He lowers his hands just enough to peek out, but his fingers thread through each other and hide his face. "I've never been called gorgeous before."

"Was that okay?"

"It was perfect," he admits. His eyebrows relax, and his eyes squint. You don't need to see the rest of his face to know his lips curved up. But he dilutes his swoon with another sigh, and you can tell he's disappointed in himself as he drops his hands to his side. "I wish I wasn't in my head when you said it. Sorry for ruining a good moment."

"You didn't ruin anything, Shu, what are you talking about?" You reach to hold his hand, but hesitate, unsure if he wants to be touched. But he turns his palm over to met yours, and you connect. "I'm glad we're talking about it, and I'm hoping that it's helping you work through it, too. I'd hate to do or say anything to you that you couldn't handle."

"Thank you. That's really sweet of you." You take in how he wraps his fingers around yours and squeezes. "I'm going to calm down for a moment."

You sit together for a moment. His face is a slideshow between thoughts, and you rub circles along his hand with your thumb as he recomposes himself. You trust him.

You send comfort through your fingertips on the changing room floor, and his deep breathing turns to silence as a minute passes by. Then Shu turns to you, and lifts your hand in his. "Do you want to try again?"

"You're up for it?"

He nods, and this time it's with all his energy. "I was really looking forward to it. Can we?"

"Of course, Shu, anything for you." Already you're starting to feel warm. You get up to your feet, and bring Shu with you.

You're not so sure if Shu is aware of this, but even in his weakest moments, he moves elegantly. Not so much that it looks practiced, but he rises nimble like the shadows he channels his sorcery through. His long hair rests on his sleeves, then slips behind his back airily as the leathery wing along his torso flares with the motion.

He doesn't let go of your hand, even as he steps back and rests against the wall.

"You're okay with this?" You ask.

"It felt nice."

Your hand lets go of his, but it doesn't break away from his glassy-clear skin, and instead takes in the shape of his arm. His inner wrist is so soft, but the skin gets pleasantly rougher as you continue upwards into the plush of his forearm, and by the time you reach the peak of his biggest muscles, the plush turns firm.

The other holds him by his hips right under the sash of his robes. You can wrap yourself so easily around his waistline, and the urge to snatch him up is stifling.

But you're on a mission, and Shu's straight nose is dusted with pink, and when your hands both squeeze his body, a short gleam of fire spirals out behind him, and yet, his vivid, royal eyes are what captivate you the most.

You're so lost in his long lashes and the flecks of galaxy that you feel helpless, even with him pinned underneath you. "Shu, can I kiss—"

You get your answer before you even finish the question.

It's like you never paused in the first place. He enters your mouth first, and you match his movements, crossing along his tongue as if it was your lifeblood. It probably is. Shu has a tendency to unlock hunger like you've never known it before.

His arms unconsciously flex at the contact. Aroused, you drive forward and force him further against the wall, and when you hear the rumble of a moan between your connected lips, your fingers clutch harder at his waist.

Your bodies are flush against one another, and as you lean forward, you feel the telltale silkiness of his hair. You don't dare to open your eyes as you fumble around for a tuft to tangle your hands in. Shu pulses in your mouth as you take hold, and parts just enough to aim for your bottom lip as he returns the favor and bites. You hear a lewd, liquidy smack as he hurriedly glosses over the nip, then back to your parted lips. Every time there's even the slightest tension between his hair and your fingers, you notice, he rushes to kiss you harder.

So when he goes in for another round, you move your mouth away. His eyes flutter open in confusion, then shocks into surprise as you drag him in front of you. The mirror reflects his surprise right back at him.

Your head perches on Shu's shoulder. "You up for this, baby? You want to see?"

The heat returns. His reflection is another reminder of how he's totally at your mercy, and all the shame that comes with being so whipped that he already looks this ruined.

But you called him beautiful earlier. Gorgeous.

He kind of likes the shame.

"Yeah," Shu says, breathless. "Y-yeah, I do."

"Good boy," you coo, and that washes a whole new set of feelings over him that he files away for later. He tucks his chin away, embarrassed at the name, but he's still focused on the reflection as your reach to the top of his head and the beginnings of his ponytail.

Shu grew his hair out long, and you comb through the ponytail as it loosens down his back. "Pretty boy," you say. Your voice is tempting so close to his ear, especially as you gather his hair together. "Pretty boy with pretty hair. You take good care of it."

He lets out a hum deep in his throat as you smooth through it, only for it to turn into a startled choke as you grab at the base of his head. He chides himself for not seeing through your plan, but not enough to stifle how the choke turns into a moan as you pull. His neck jerks back. Then your lips make contact with his nape like a vampire to prey, and the moan turns into an even more humiliating yelp. The mirror proudly displays his neediness, but the high pitch is yours alone to keep.

"Didn't mark this side earlier." You mutter as you blow cool air over your latest kiss, and bask in how he shivers storms. "You like that?"

"Mmm, feels good," he says, voice wavering.

"Sounded like it, too. I liked hearing it. Gives me a chance to keep playing around with you."

His common sense tells him to protest, but he's too enthralled by the rough kisses and pulls. You tug on his hair to move him instead of asking him, and the way that you can command him without even using words both impresses and mortifies him.

It's the bites that send him over the edge, though. His nape is your territory. The first hickeys have already darkened on the other side, and when he sees you ravenous over his elongated neck, it's dirty and starved and lovely.

You press a kiss under Shu's ear and he jolts at the pleasure. When you suck, he inhales shakily, and lolls his head to the side. He had no idea that he just put himself in the perfect position. "Just like that, stay still. That's perfect." You weave your fingers through an open seam in his outfit, and when you leave your next mark, it's with your hands over his chest underneath the fabric. You grope his cleavage. "Perfect, perfect, perfect."

"H-how did you even— nngh, ah!"

His nipples were already hard enough, but then you just had to go and twist the damn thing like it wouldn't send him so far down to hell that he'd come back up in heaven.

"Just like that, Shu, baby, you're doing so well!" A flick on the bud here, a pull on his ponytail there, your words barely able to ring out as you frenzy between the kisses and the licks.

Whatever noise hangs in the air, it's downright pornographic, and it's only when Shu sees his open mouth in the mirror that he realizes that's his voice. It wobbles between a cry and a huff. Pink and purple dances around his hazy reflection, but as aroused as he is, he recognizes them as his harmless fire. He didn't even know he did that.

The fire trails behind his head as everything goes hot. He can barely think straight, but the only thing coursing through his mind is that he's never been able to feel delight like this before.

Where you stand behind him, Shu rolls his hips, his neck still held back against your body. You've been doing such a good job of keeping yourself together, but the slow coursing is a death sentence. You welcome it wholeheartedly.

"Mm, Shu...!" That elegance is seriously biting you in the ass right now. Even when he's horny, he's graceful, but you ache for more.

And even when he's submissive, he's strong. You tend to forget that those biceps aren't just for show.

Shu practically plucks you out of the embrace and to his side. His voice is husky but whiny. "Mirror or not, I'm not about to go down on you standing up."

"Let's get you a bed," you negotiate. The sooner you can get all you love out of your system, the better. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

He doesn't waste any time at all. He holds his arm out along the small of your back and rests his hand against where your hips connect with your thighs, and as you shuffle out of the changing room he keeps you close to his, brushing up against you all the while. You'd almost think he was preening.

"Gorgeous," you utter. Hopefully he learns how one day.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[leotanaka]

JUGHEAD REALLY GOT CHERYL TO TAKE A PHOTO OF HIM POSING WITH A BOMB AND THEN HAD THAT PICTURE USED ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER OMG!

[kindaeccentric]

I feel like it's good the show made Armand remember Marius as more of an outright abuser, because the way Rice wrote him left people interpreting his actions as way too justifiable, even though they were despicable even before. He bought Armand at 15 and changed his name. When he brought him into his place he, despite being a vampire, immediately became sexual with him, even though he knew about the trauma he endured, and felt OWNERSHIP over him. It's confirmed in his own words. Hell, he kept multiple young boys for his own entertainment. Marius can wax poetics over how much he loved Armand, but it's no different than Humbert Humbert describing the seductive nature of Lolita.

[166hours]

I am STILL seeing people (mainly on TikTok) complain about Percabeth developing too quickly in the PJO show… I am begging y’all to reread the books.

[athophobic]

there’s something i feel i can remember..! i don’t want to forget what’s going on. i don’t want to be trapped like this. and i tried again, and stanley pushed a button. is it over? i’m going back. this is more important than you can ever know. this isn’t a challenge, it’s a tragedy. what else is there? what came before this?i can’t lose myself in the stretch of emptiness between you and me. the end will be here soon. very soon. i can wait. i wish you to feel afraid as i do. i’ll give it all up, i’ll burn my story to the ground! it was the only thing in the world that was mine and you’ve run it into the ground. the end is never the end. i can’t quite recall, but i believe my story took place in an office building… is that correct? do you remember? it’s all determined? why don’t i get to decide? why don’t i get a say in all this? the end is never the end. the story needs this. it’s all out of my control now. just your decision as to exactly when you’re going to make me suffer, to leave me all alone. the end is never the end. i know you too well. i need this. and stanley was happy. i will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life from the moment we fade in, to the moment i say “happily ever after”. and stanley was happy. i wanted us to be happy here. and stanley was happy. the story needs you. it cannot exist without you. and stanley was happy. take as much time as you need. and stanley was happy. this is a very sad story about the death of a man named stanley. and stanley was happy. i did enjoy telling his story. so very much. this is the story of a man named stanley. i hope you like it. i hope you understand it. i hope you set stanley free.

[transmoriarty]

sherlock posting in 2024 but thinkin abt how diabolical it is w jim saying “u can have me arrested. u can torture me. u can do anything u like to me. but nothing’s going to prevent them from pulling the trigger” literally to the brother of the Government Agent who just recently tortured him for weeks

[transmascutena]

i know i've said it a million times before but i just. i hate it when people treat akio as some kind of god with supernatural powers to manipulate people's emotions and not just. a fucking groomer. like there's literally nothing he does that regular ass horrible people don't do every single day. and that's a hundred times scarier than whatever you're making up about him

like. no he fucking isn't ???? what show did you watch

[theartistichuman]

Saiki: man I hate romance. detective stories are so much better

Also Saiki: man that detective book was boring. Can’t be helped. Wait a cliffhanger in the irl love story from 20 years ago????? I have to know what happens next even if it greatly inconveniences me!!!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

more salty commentary about.... salty fandom commentary, but for a fandom i'm not really involved with

ftr this is about the gay-ass (affectionate) vampire show

squinting at some of super vitriolic anti-armand commentary that tumblr's algorithm keeps throwing at me like 'this? you want this one bestie? no? what about this one instead?' when in fact i want none of these takes, actually. "i don't believe a word that comes out of that lying liar's mouth!!" "of course he could have stopped claudia and madeleine's murders, he's the most powerful vampire in the world!!" (uh, i'll come back to that one later. maybe. if i feel like it) "he was onboard the 'let's murder claudia!' train from the very beginning!!!" etc. if you're even peripherally keeping your finger on the pulse of this fandom's discourse, you've probably seen some of this, too.

and... okay. bearing in mind two things:

it's been about 20+ years since i read the original novels, and

the show's relationship to the original novels, as well as the 1994 movie, is both conversational and subversive,

two seasons into this delicious mess, how are we still collectively failing to recognize that the central conceit of amc's retelling is that, intentional or not, all recollection of louis' past is both catharsis (for louis) and performance (for ???)? that all of louis' recollection of his own actions, as well as the actions of the other vampires in his orbit, is filtered through the lens of his own feelings about those vampires in that moment? like this isn't a subtle storytelling device, this is something the show is repeatedly bashing us over the head with again and again and again: louis' reliability as a narrator of his own experiences can't be trusted even when he isn't so consumed with rage that he tries to drain twenty year old daniel molloy dry for the unforgivable crime of /checks my notes, mouthing off at him like a dumbass, or goes into vulgar detail describing to lestat precisely how he is going to kill him, cut his head off, and then feed his decapitated head to lions at the zoo. which, it bears mentioning, is not the version of events that we were presented with during s1, but it is the version of events that louis himself comes to reluctantly believe is the more accurate recollection of the past.

does that make lestat into The Real Victim™️ who did nothing wrong to louis or claudia, ever? please tell me you're not actually asking me this question. be serious.

the point is that louis is right in the thick of feeling his intensely passionate vampire feelings about armand in real time, in the present day, while looking backwards through time at the 77 years they have spent together, and he is questioning everything. justifiably so, for the record! why wouldn't he question the actions and motivations of the supposed love of his life after discovering that such an important memory from his and daniel molloy's shared past was erased from his mind? but seriously, if you have reached this point in the story and your takeaway from the last episode boils down to "THIS TIME louis' recollection of the past is definitely 100% accurate! the rose-tinted glasses are OFF and we can see the TRUTH about you now armand!!!" then i just. i don't know what to say to you. lmfao.

anyway rather than getting into the weeds with anyone actually in the fandom about which of these diva vampire daddies is right, actually, find me hanging out with claudia and madeleine's ashes giving all of them the proverbial finger. because honestly, fuck all these vampires (affectionate).

[aroaceleovaldez]

One of the both interesting and annoying things with Trials of Apollo is Apollo is an unreliable narrator who will entirely straight up lie to the audience.

Like, on one hand, yes technically that is what an unreliable narrator is, but generally with unreliable narrators you are able to parse that they’re being unreliable entirely within the contexts of the narrative and also parse the truth. A good example is actually Magnus Chase - he’s also an unreliable narrator. But he doesn’t wholly outright lie ever about random details. Magnus is somewhat coy when it comes to details about himself or his feelings, but its also generally very easy to see through his pretenses. When we’re introduced to him, he talks a lot insisting that he’s some type of tough loner guy on the streets, and isn’t super into touchy-feely stuff. Then we’re immediately introduced to his found family and spend the next two books seeing his found family grow and finally him literally win a fight with the power of friendship. He claims he’s totally independent, but then also talks about how he keeps sneaking into his uncle’s house and again, has two adoptive dads. We’re presented this information almost side-by-side, so while Magnus is an unreliable narrator, we as the audience are still receiving valid information. And then comparatively Percy is just almost entirely a truthful narrator. There’s never really a question of having to dispute the information he gives us.

Meanwhile, Apollo will exposition at the audience and we genuinely have no way of confirming or denying it, and we do know that he is blatantly lying about at least some of it, which makes basically all of the information entirely useless. The most notable example of this is Apollo spending three whole books referring to Artemis as his younger twin sister. Without contextual knowledge of Greek Mythology, specifically relating to the myth of Artemis and Apollo’s births, there is no reason for the audience to dispute this or not take this as fact when Apollo is presenting it as such. Then, in Tyrant’s Tomb when Artemis actually shows up, Apollo completely 180s into being truthful and referring to Artemis as his older twin. It honestly almost reads as just narrative inconsistency or textual error if you aren’t aware that Apollo is intentionally supposed to be lying to the audience.

And it’s annoying! Because we can’t take anything he says as fact most of the time! Like, we can presume it’s true, because we have nothing saying it’s not true until we do. But also, sometimes we do! Like with Artemis! So there’s a ton of little instances of having to go “Is this a retcon, new information, consistency error, or is Apollo just straight up lying and it will never get addressed?” We don’t know.

[tennessoui]

anakin should just cry on obi wan so that the old man can go through 7 stages of guilt for being such a fucking dumbass

to be fair to obiwan lmao anakin was literally married and supposedly in love with his literal wife like five minutes ago - that’s a pretty solid basis for assuming someone doesn’t love you back