#NO SCRATCH THAT. THE LAST PARAGRAPH AS A WHOLE.

[fujii-draws]

still thinking about your post about your dusknoir and how the option of doing Anything But What He Did was always available to him yet he chose to walk along a path that only ended up hurting himself and quite literally all that he held dear to himself.

I think he really beats himself up over it because there's something so gut wrenching over the idea that a safer, better option that wouldve guaranteed a good outcome to you and those you hold dear, yet your narrow scope of reality and the fear that crippling you if you had stepped out of your designed path (assuming he did not already do that when adapting to the father figure ruse that he tried to pull) had you by the neck to the point where even the option that 'things did not have to go this way' was already not possible, and you had no choice but to go on. and now, dusknoir had no one but himself to blame for the cracks and strains he forced upon the two kids who looked up to him. the option to be with them, to save them, to shield them from him, yet he took it upon himself to be the knife that stabs them in the back when they willingly embraced his shine and the venom that reeks into their bodies when he tells them how much they had meant *little*, if *nothing* to him at all. he could've raised their spirits high, yet he proceeded to slam them down into reality and teach them the harsh lesson that nothing good comes out of a stranger with good intentions, even when that stranger made you feel as though you deserved to be loved. that you did not need to be so afraid, and that there was no shame in who you are. he was their light, and he burned so bright that he left them tearing and weeping in the darkness.

Sinnoh.

[best-enemies]

Just watched S09E11 of CSI, 'The Grave Shift', after last night's 'One to Go'. I don't think I'll ever recover from Grissom, my favorite character, leaving the show, but his exit was still beautiful and so, so Grissom. Him just telling the team "Yeah so, I'm leaving" and having little moments with each of them, warmed my heart (the character that represented me the most was David, who had to bolt out of the room after Grissom said, "I'll miss you, though", barely managing to hold back the tears before leaving).

And oh my god. His reunion with Sara. They didn't even need words and it was absolutely perfect. Watching Grissom feel physical pain from his break up with Sara broke my heart -- you can see how much he loves her. I hate that they'll break up again; I don't remember how or why exactly, but it feels unnecessary, but I'm comforted by the fact that, ultimately, they'll end up together for the rest of their lives.

One of the things I love about this episode is how they all paid a little homage to Grissom and, near the end, Nick, who was offered Grissom's office, invited Greg and Riley to share it with him. Fits right in with Nick's sweet personality. I love how he says they need all the good energy from that place. He's really Grissom's n#1 pupil ♡

(Shout out to Hodges, one of my favorite characters from this rewatch, walking in and bringing the pig fetus saying it belongs there. I love how bitter he is after Grissom left and how he's not willing to get over it any time soon. Forget David, Hodges is the character that represented me the most, lol).

I need to say, my brain completely ignored the fact that, when Grissom offered Ray Langston a job as a CSI he said that it was an "entry-level job". Instead, I thought he'd get the job as the team leader and it was weird for me to see him being so inexperienced at a job. But all of that is because, one, I haven't rewatched CSI in ten years and forgot about like, 97% of the show and two, I have rewatched Hannibal way too many times and got used to Laurence Fishburne playing a boss, and a damn good one. I do like his character, though!

I'm not a fan of Riley though. I don't know why, she seems mostly competent at her job, fit right in, but at the same time it's not really like she fit in? I felt like maybe she could have had some adaptation into the team, after all she was replacing a long-time team member, Warrick (will talk about him later). Her introduction and adaptation into the team felt a bit sudden and "inorganic" and maybe that's why I don't love her sassy remarks and sort of 'cool girl' personality. Yeah I love Sara but I don't love Riley for the reasons listed above. That could change, though!

Warrick. Oh, man. For Gedda/For Warrick were the most painful episodes to watch and I stalled for months. Some of the team got to have a nice last moment with him, others didn't. It broke my heart how at peace he was in his last hours, hanging out with the work fam, feeling relieved for not losing his job, which was a huge part of his life. I do hate that it had to end like that for him. I get that his death represented the loss of innocence, and that that team wasn't going to last forever... but it's just really painful. To know that he didn't have anyone else, only his soon, which we don't know if he was able to see often...

Too many things happening at once, too many changes, and bumpy ones, but I hope we'll get into a smooth road once again.

[tardis--dreams]

Yes a painful sore throat is bad, but i cannot stress enough how much more i hate the ITCHING!!

[engineering]

Tumblr Hack Week, January 2024 Edition

Once again it was Hack Week (more than just a day!) at Tumblr! This is getting repetitive in the best way. A couple of times per year we slow down our normal work and spend a week working on scratching a personal itch or features we want as user and see how far we can get with our hacks. One thing from the last Hack Week in September made it all the way to a new experiment out to some testers: Tumblr Patio!

Here are some of the projects that got built for our most recent Hack Week in January. Some of these things you may also end up seeing on the site…

Spoiler text, spoiler blocks, and centered text!

This one is so obvious and amazing, it’s wild we don’t already have it. For Hack Week, Katie added the ability to select text in a paragraph to be hidden behind a wall of black that can be revealed with a tap. This can be super useful to hide spoilers. And even better: whole spoiler blocks. And while we’re here, the ability to center text!

A plethora of new default blog avatars

We haven’t updated our default avatars in several years. (Some of you may remember this one from 10+ years ago.) They’re feeling a bit stale to us, so why not update them? And while we’re at it… make a ton more variations! Paul from the Tumblr Design team came up with a suite of new default avatars, using our latest Tumblr color palette. Here’s a look at some of them, but there are actually many dozens more using different colors:

Notifications and emails about engagement on your posts

This one is for the folks on Tumblr who love numbers and their Activity page. Daniel, @jesseatblr​, and the Feeds & Machine Learning team worked on some new notifications and emails we could send out to people about how their posts have been doing lately on the platform, such as how many views they’ve gotten, and by how many people. We already have this available (and more) when you Blaze a post, but why not open it up to more people? It’s really useful to the folks who use Tumblr to help build an audience for their work!

A new way of navigating the web: the Command Palette

Some apps we use a lot have a “command palette” accessible via a keyboard shortcut for quick keyboard-driven access to different parts of the platform. For example, Slack and Discord have Command + K to access their quick switchers to hop around conversations. What if Tumblr had one? Kelly and Paul built one! Press Command/Control + K on Tumblr and you can use your keyboard to jump to your blog, Activity, your recent conversations, search, dozens of places!

As always, stay tuned to the @changes​ blog to see if any of these hacks make it on Tumblr for real!

[railingsofsorrow]

stupid heart

summary: third and final installment of old habits  

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bau!reader 

warnings/content: reader is a Simp, emily is a Simp, they are Simps for each other; language; lots of yearning and eye contact; penelope being a matchmaker; bruises (mentioned); there is... fluff! I promise; paragraph in italics are memories.

A/N: here is the last part of old habits. i didn't know you guys would even like the first one tbh but I'm glad you asked for a part 2 because it was so fun to write this and make it a three-part mini-series. i hope you like the ending!

navi  

masterpost 

cm masterlist

[part 1] [part 2]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

you were on your lunch break when something vibrated and made you jump and hit your knee on your desk. you cursed rather loudly, attracting tara's attention to you as you held your leg with a painful groan. 

“how's the desk?” 

“fuck off.” 

she laughed, shaking her head and going back to her own paperwork. when she saw the time though, she was the first to venture off to have lunch.  

“are you staying the whole day sitting there? your butt will become a square.” 

you sighed, scratching your brow. if you left now, you would never finish this on time. you weren't even sure if you would finish on time if you stayed now, but eh, it was what you had at the moment. you didn't want to leave paperwork hanging, it would pile up like today. that sucked. 

“i'm good. bring me a muffin, though?” you knew she would have lunch in a restaurant nearby and your favorite bakery was side by side with it. “i'm craving something sweet.”  

tara scoffed with a knowing look. “you're always craving something sweet, like a tiny ant.” she proceeded to ruffle your hair on her way out and you were about to tell her to fuck off again if your boss wasn't walking inside the bullpen as pretty as ever. 

it was a relatively slow day at the bureau. you didn't have a case, which was rare, extremely rare and also extremely weird. slow days had pros and cons. one of the pros was that you could stay in the office without seeing any dead bodies and bloodied crime scenes for a change, one of the cons was that you had a ton of paperwork to fill out. it was boring. you moved to the kitchenette to get your fifth refill of coffee and then move back to your desk to drown yourself in filling out reports.  

it was emily's day off. you vividly recall penelope making a bet on how many hours emily would handle being out of the office, she received a middle finger.  

but here she was, and penelope was right. 

“hey, is there still a lot of those for you to finish?” she threw the question on her way to her office, switching her briefcase to her right hand to inspect the pile of manila folders with the other. 

emily was wearing a well-fitted black suit, a white shirt beneath it, and black trousers. black looked good on her. or any color for that matter. but emily's all-black outfits made you enter in cardiac arrest back in the day.  

who are you kidding? they still do.

“yes,” you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with your pen as you gazed up at her curiously. “isn't today supposed to be your day off?” 

“no, that's next week.” it's like the lie was waiting to come out. she grabbed at least ten files from your pile and gave you a wink before walking away. “i can help with that.” 

“you—hey!” you whispered-yelled, stumbling after her into her office. “you can't just take this.” you scolded her with a shake of your head, attempting to grab the files back. “it's your day off, emily. go home.” it was not next week. her day off was today, you knew it was. she always did that as an excuse to come in to work and do something. emily prentiss was restless, but she couldn't just take your heavy workload if she had one of her own. 

“i'm not going home.” she dropped her briefcase on the couch inside her office, closing the door before she circled around her desk and sat down. “i have spare time, so leave these here.” 

you pointed at the files on her desk, “are those your spare time?”  

“it's less than yours.” she rested her chin on the back of her hand, lips' corners lifting slightly.  

you sighed halfheartedly, “that's because I let it pile up through the weeks.” 

“give me half then,” she placed her hand on top of the files before you could drag it away and ran off from her office.  

you stared at her hand on top of yours for a hot minute until you got out of your daze and dropped at least three files on top of hers, glancing up at her with your brow raised.  

“you get three if you promise to not come in tomorrow and get some rest.” 

her lips stretched into a smirk as she leaned back on her chair, fingertips tapping against her laptop. she gazed up at you, a challenging glint in her eyes that you wouldn't fall for. this was you negotiating and she never won a negotiation with you. not when you were right, at least.  

emily rolled her eyes with a huff, “fine.” she said, playfully glaring at you as you grinned in victory with your files back in your hand.  

she enjoyed this dynamic. it almost felt as if the two of you were back to normal. the teasing. the playful annoyance. the excuses to be around one another — that part was entirely emily's fault and she didn't regret it.  

she knew you wouldn't let her take half of your workload with her just like that. she might have lost a few points in the bargaining, but she earned a lot of joy in seeing your satisfied smile as you left her office with a slightly less bigger pile of reports.  

as you dropped the files on your desk, you notice your hands were cramping, begging for you to take a break and you decided to do exactly that. you had been up since 8 am working non-stop, you deserved a little break, didn't you? and a coffee refill. 

your desk began to vibrate and you hit your knee against the hardwood, again. which made remember you have a phone and said phone was responsible for all the purple bruises you'll have on your knee. you yanked the drawer open with a low curse and grabbed your cell phone, not looking at the caller ID as you picked up the call. 

"what." jj looked up from her computer screen with an amused expression upon hearing your short tone. you walked into the kitchenette when the person's voice echoed through your ear while they pretended to be offended.  

"is that your way of saying you miss me?" spencer mumbled into the phone. you rolled your eyes while making another coffee pot. "hello to you too." 

"did you call before? you made me hit my knee twice, it hurt like a bitch." 

"how would I have made you hit your knee twice if I'm two hours and 1,051 miles away from you?" 

you let out a sigh, a smile creeping up on your lips at your best friend calling you. "hello, spencer. how's the honeymoon going?" 

you could see him scrunching his nose as he replied, "we're not married, it's not a honeymoon." 

"you're visiting his family, you might as well be married." 

he paused, stuttering a bit before he admitted something that made you squeak in delight in the kitchenette. rossi blinked at you as he poured himself a cup of coffee. you waited until he left the room to throw all your questions at spencer.  

"he proposed?!" 

"yes," spencer said, probably flushing red in the other side. you wish you could just tackle him into a hug and tell him how happy you were for him. ethan, spencer's boyfriend (now fiancée), was so in love with him, you knew it was only a matter of time that they tie the knot. after what your best friend went through while working at the BAU, he of all people deserved to be happy. "last night, actually." 

“okay,” you held yourself back from acting like a teenager wanting to hear about the newest gossip. “okay, so, I'm not going to ask what I need to ask now because you're going to tell me everything when you come back to virginia. when do you come back to virginia?” 

“saturday. we're spending the rest of the week here.” 

“good.” you smiled. “that's so good. spencer?” 

“yeah?” 

“i am so happy for you. both of you. congratulations!” 

“thank you.” he chuckled. “i'll tell you everything you want to know when I get back, okay?” you hum in agreement. “how was your date?” 

your nose scrunched as hot coffee burned your tongue, “what date?” you got distracted putting sugar in your coffee.  

“the one last week? with dahlia stanford?” spencer clarified confusedly. “did you not go?” 

oh. that date. 

right. 

“no, I- I did go,” you uttered quietly. 

the thing was: you hated it. you tried not to because dahlia was sweet and kind and she was even funny during five minute of conversation. but then the topic only remained on her and how she loved high school and wished she could go back because it was the best time of her life, and oh! she was her mom's favorite daughter— there was never a breach for you to talk about you.  

it got tiring quickly. you were slightly annoyed and sad at the end of the night. annoyed because of the date and sad because, well, it was starting to be hopeless for you.  

you didn't had a lot of dates after your break up with emily. six months was too soon for you so you respected your time until hannah from HR asked you out for coffee and you ghosted her. timothy, a lead detective on a local case, took you to a museum and it was fun but you ghosted him too. and dahlia, from sex crimes, whom you invited to have dinner but it was the most boring evening of your life.  

maybe you were fated to be alone and you needed to accept that. 

“you don't want to talk about it, do you?” you were glad to have known spencer for a long time so he understood your silence through the phone. “how's everything there? is everyone okay? paperwork piling up again?” 

you scoffed annoyed, “yeah, easy for you to say. yours never piled up. give me your brain and it won't happen.” 

“that's not physically possible.” he snickered at your jab.  

“everyone's fine. we didn't have a case today so it's slow.” 

“how are you and emily?” 

your back straightened as you almost spilled the coffee on the floor. you cleared your throat, eyeing the door for any possible newcomers. 

“fine? why would you ask that.” 

spencer hummed, “because you were giving each other the silent treatment last time I asked and I had to hear it from garcia.” 

“yeah, well, penelope's a snitch and me and emily are fine.” you placed your mug on the counter, munching on your lower lip thoughtfully. “we're friends.” 

“oh?” spencer's mocked surprised tone made your brows furrow a little in suspicion. “that's an improvement.” 

“why do you sound as if you knew more than I'm letting on?” 

you heard muffled voices in the background on his end and he replied to someone else before coming back to you. “i don't know anything. I have no idea.” 

“you're a shitty liar, reid.” 

“look, I have to go. ethan is taking me somewhere I have no idea— he's saying hi— but I'll call you back, okay?” 

“hi ethan,” you said with a little smile. “yeah, okay, have fun, lovebirds. don't do anything I wouldn't do.”  

spencer called your name before hanging up. 

“yeah?” you said, moving towards the bullpen in direction of your desk. you had a good break, it was time to head back to work.  

“give your heart a chance. it's worth it. trust me with this, okay? goodbye.”  

you froze as you were about to sit down. you didn't get a chance of answering him before he hung up on you and what exactly were you even going to say? spencer reid and his fucking unwarranted advice to mess with your head.  

you only realized your eyes were lingering on the windows of the office above the stairs when the door opened and the unit chief walked out, her gaze locking into yours until you quickly diverted yours to your desk.  

“hi again.” emily greeted you, leaning her hip against your desk.  

“hey,” you looked up as you opened another file. one less to go. you saw something in her hand and glimpsed at it curiously. “what's that?” 

“that's alright, em.” you smiled softly. “thank you for safekeeping it.”  

“tara said you were craving something sweet and left this for you.” a small package was placed beside your files. you stared at the package and looked up at her, confused. if the package was for you then why was it with emily?

she seemed to grasp your train of thought, a rosy tint reaching her cheeks. your whole demeanor softened at her obvious embarrassment. “you weren't here, so she, mhm, she left it in my office so I could give it to you when you came back—” 

“sure. it was my pleasure.” emily was about to combust from awkwardness, was that possible?  

she said your name and you stopped in the middle of opening the package to glance up at her. she pulled up a chair so both of you were at eye-level now.  

“i have a proposition for you.” 

“i have a proposition for you.”  

you bit the straw of your milkshake, quickly writing down the last pieces of information on the report so you could finally be free to go home and have some sleep. the last case wiped you out. “i don't have time to bury a body now, if you just wait for five more minutes...” 

“I-what?” emily let out a dumbfounded laugh. “why is that the first thing that comes to your mind when I say I have a proposition?” your mouth stretched into a convinced smile, your eyes drifted to hers for a second before they go back to your messy handwriting. you were almost done.  

“because I would. bury a body for you. you're too pretty to go to jail.” you finished your chocolate milkshake and left the plastic cup aside. 

emily tapped her fingers on your desk, shaking her head at you in disapproval to which you grinned in response. 

“i hate it when you do that.” 

you blinked innocently. “do what?” 

she lowered her face closer to yours and you couldn't help but stare down at her lips. “flirt with me while we're at work because you know I can't do anything about it.” 

“mhm, then tell me the proposition, prentiss. I don't have all day.” 

“go on a date with me.”  

“i won't give you anymore reports.” you clicked your pen once, twice, as if this would expel the memory that just traveled through your mind.  

emily looked down at the manila folders in your desk, they were halfway through. “i could finish all of those today.” 

“right, let's not kid ourselves here, baby. we don't have the same reading speed as spencer reid.” 

you had the privilege of seeing her dimpled smile and for moment your brain stopped working.  

“what?” 

you called me baby. I missed that. 

“nothing.” she said, looking away. “about the proposition. there will be a lyrid meteor shower friday night and I was thinking about going to the observatory park in great falls. it's one of the best places to watch the night sky.” emily paused, leaving you anxiously waiting. “do you— would you like to come with me?” and she quickly added, much to your dismay. “as friends, of course.” you observed her fidget with your pen before she carried on.   

why did you feel so disappointed? it was what you wanted, right? to be friends with emily, it was at least a start to rekindle your friendship of years. it was the right thing to do.  

was it normal to also find your friend the most beautiful woman on earth and try so hard to not kiss her at any given moment? 

you didn't think so. 

“okay.”  

emily blinked at you, stunned. “okay?” 

you give her an amused smile, “yes, okay, em. we can go watch the meteor shower together. as friends.” 

her smile fell a little, “right. yes. that's great. so I'll pick you up around 8, is that good for you?” 

you nodded in agreement, “sure.” there was an awkward silence as both of you tried to find any other topic to talk about but you were too nervous with going somewhere with her just the two of you and she was incredibly awkward at the failed attempt for asking you out on a date. “emily?” you blurted out while standing up before she could leave. “i did went on a date, but I'm not going on another one.” you mumbled a curse under your breath. “i meant that it didn't work out.” jesus, was that hard to say?! 

“oh.” emily muttered, eyes traveling across your face, seeking any form of sadness over the fact that it didn't work out between you and whoever you went on a date with. okay, she knew who it was and even which department the person, dahlia?, worked in. perks of having penelope garcia as your technical analyst and honorary hacker. “i'm sorry.” 

no, she wasn't the slightest bit sorry. 

you let a choked-up laugh escape and you were fast to cover your mouth. emily's gaze brightened up at that. she made you laugh. this day couldn't get any better. 

“you do look very sorry, em.” 

she groaned with a roll of eyes. “hey, I am, okay? if you really liked her, so...” 

your eyes narrowed at her. you slowly stepped towards her, arms crossing over your chest. tilting your head, you said, “her? I never told you it was a her.” you knew you caught her when her lips parted and she just clipped her mouth shut after being out of bullshit to throw at you. “penelope.”  

it wasn't a question.  

emily's expression twitched in a guilty grimace and she feared this might just have ruined her plans to get you back. fuck. 

what could she do? she wasn't capable of lying to you. 

you raised a hand, cutting her off. “i'm not mad. it's fine.” 

emily sighed in relief, “really?”  

“yeah.” you gave her an eye roll, shaking your head but your lips betrayed you by lifting its corners as you went back to your chair and dropped down on the seat.  

emily munched on her upper lip, gathering her strength to just walk off and accept things as they were because you have to let time do its magic— god, she couldn't fucking do it. thanks, penelope, for your amazing advice but I am a restless woman. 

“and what if I don't want this to be a friendly hangout?” you gasped in surprise as she reappeared beside you, drawing her chair closer, bumping with the arms of your chair. “would it be a stretch to say that I want it to be a date?" 

emily's really pushing her luck here. 

"emily-" you croaked out, your voice suddenly rough, but she cut you off by grabbing your wrist tenderly.  

"I know I messed up. and I know I betrayed your trust which is something I'd never ever do it intentionally because I lo- because I care so deeply about you," emily admitted all of that, apparently forgetting you were in the middle of the bullpen. something you also didn't notice. "so just give me this chance, this one date. If you say no I'll completely understand, hell I'm probably being extremely pushy right now-" 

"emily." you tugged at her hand, jerking your head in the direction of her office so she could follow you there. you pulled her inside the room, closing the door by resting your back against it. you were finally away from prying eyes. "will you let me talk now?" 

she felt her cheeks warming up in shame.  

you took a step towards your ex-girlfriend, not believing what you were about to say because she was, well, your ex-girlfriend. and you're not supposed to say yes to a date with your ex when you're trying to get over them. 

"you're not being pushy. I was actually kind of hoping this would be a date until you said as friends." she mentally kicked herself at her doings. "I care about you too, okay? I can't just not care, emily." your shoulders slumped as you exhaled slowly. "so yes, this can be a date. and we can see how it goes from there." 

emily wanted to kiss you so bad right now and she wanted to cry at the same time. this meant you were giving her a chance, that you wanted to try as much as she did even if she didn't think she deserved it that much. but she wouldn't disappoint you this time.  

"you won't regret it." you hummed with a soft smile, messing with her fingers and then letting it go.  

"okay, boss. now, can I go back to work or will you keep me from my duties any longer?" 

"I'm debating that." 

you gave her a look, to which she grinned causing your heart to beat insanely fast inside your ribcage. you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. how could you be just friends with emily prentiss? that just wasn't possible. 

as a close friend of yours said once, you'd give your heart a chance. maybe it would be worth the risk. 

"I hate you," you mumbled while holding back a smile as you opened the door to leave her office. it was time to get back to work, for real this time.  

you could hear the smug smile in her voice. “no you don't. ” 

“no, I don't,” you confessed quietly to yourself. 

and for that, you blamed your stupid heart. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @ravensbug ; @lez-talk1 ; @chiefemilyprentiss ; @snoopyaah 

[viviennevermillion]

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand. 

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion. 

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter. 

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though. 

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want. 

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day. 

[marypaol]

Poisoned Thoughts

Draco x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is drowning in the river of insecurities, and Draco is only the hand that’s pushing her further down.

Warnings: Insecurities, obviously, mention of suffocation, choking, strangling, etc. Bullying about weight, eating habits, mention of drowning, drowning someone, ANGST, crying, mention of blood, all that good stuff. :)

Note: This is very personal to me, and I was happy to write a story that kind of puts awareness out there about insecure people. Everyone has their own dislikes about themselves, and I don’t think it’s at all funny to make fun of someone that thinks bad about themselves. So please know to spread kindness and respect others, because you never know what they think of themselves. I’m here if anyone needs to talk, and remember that you are absolutely beautiful just the way you are!!! 🫶🏻

For the wonderful @maaaapara I hope you enjoy!

This is my first time writing full on angst, so it might be bad.

The feeling of hunger was over her, the long hours of studying finally catching up. She didn’t plan on doing the whole Charms essay, just a few paragraphs and she’d be done for the night. But her quill kept moving nonetheless, swirling the cursive letters against the parchment with soft grace. The soft scratching noises arising from the action were peaceful to her ears, and the cackling of the flames in the fireplace was another sign of calm.

Once she finished it, she rolled it up neatly, tying a thin piece of string around it that was worn out from continuous usage. She always seemed to use that certain one out of the millions she had in her bag, since not only was it old, but she liked the material’s feel against her fingertips.

She liked to think of the soft feeling as an award for finishing the work, letting herself know that she can feel the calming sensation if she completed what was asked of her.

The sun was sinking into the sky with such ease she couldn’t see it moving. The soft warmth was warmer than the daylight, glowing innocently into the green room, letting the world know it’s almost time for slumber.

Of course, the urge to eat after a long day was much higher than the desire to sleep, mostly because she felt like everyone, not just her, had an issue falling asleep if they were hungry. As so did she, but she knew she missed the feast far too long ago, too busy frying her brain out of her head to make the action to consume food.

So she sighed, trying to ignore the yelling of her stomach as it demanded something, anything. She had to set aside the want, knowing she had to go to bed and if a prefect caught her sneaking for food they’d think she was a freak, desperate for something to eat but in reality she was too busy doing school work.

The last thing she wanted was a person coming off that way so her tired legs carried her to her dormitory, all the way up trying to fight the want to eat.

She set her bag down on the ground as she got there, her roommates ignoring her presence as per usual, the feeling settling in her chest a long time ago.

Thinking about it now, her brain took her as she went into bed after changing into pajamas, the soft sheets relaxing on her skin, she’d never fit in as easily as the other girls did.

She’d always be the one who was too shy to talk, too shy to interact with people, instead taking place in a corner where she’d watch act unfold. The corners seemed to be the only place that accepted her, the curve of the wall as they both merged together taking home on her back as she sought for warmth that wasn’t there.

The line going from the floor to ceiling basically fit her quite well. She liked to think of it this way. Everyone was the walls, either side of her nice and flat as they lived life. They were smooth, beautiful, and simply flawless as you walked into the room, admiring the wall pattern in the space. But, she, however, was different. She was the corner, where all the webs built up and all the dust formed that wasn’t wanted; the corner wasn’t wanted. The person who lived in the room doesn’t attention to the corners, too busy admiring the wallpaper full of beauty and elegance to care. They don’t bother cleaning the corner while polishing the room for guests, knowing they’re blocked by furniture so the people won’t notice. No one noticed her, it seemed. Why exist, she thought, head turned to the left, staring right at the floor corner of the room, the darkness making it barely visible but she knew that was just her trying to look into her chest.

When she woke up, the room was empty and there was a cold absence in the room, floating in the air. The beds of her roommates were made, the neatness seeming to mock her, the sight of the smooth blankets making her twist in her bed sheets.

The sight was unsettling for an unknown reason, feeling something off. She looked out the window, rubbing her eyes and seeing the sun quite high within the clouds, shining upon world with such grace.

She yawned, grabbing her watch of the table beside her bed and snapping it on her wrist, looking down at the time lazily.

She gasped, lips parting and chest squeezing. It was almost time for her first to class to start, and she was still in bed, yawning like it was nothing that she forgot to set an alarm the night before. Too busy thinking about food, the thoughts in her head grumbled to herself, feeling hot anger flush in her blood. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She scrambled out of the bed sheets, feeling more suffocated every second.

She wondered why her roommates didn’t wake her, but the thought only lasted for a second. They didn’t care, was the truth.

While she was putting on her robes, the sleeves being extra irritating that morning, she felt an unexpected sensation of anger brewing in her emotions. She felt angry with herself, disappointed. She wanted to feel normal, not having these never ending thoughts swarming in her mind.

She scoffed the clothes on, standing in front of the mirror, looking at her pathetic tired self standing there, wanting nothing more than the day to end. Right then and there, she wanted it all to end. She wanted her brain to shut off, like a light switch, flipping from emotions felt to nothing at all. She pulled at her hair strands, feeling deep annoyance and irritation building in her heart and stomach. Her hair wasn’t corroborating in the way she wanted it to, and her robes seemed itcher than usual. The fabric seemed to be choking her and the more she tugged at the collar the more it seemed to be strangling her neck.

She felt tears prickle her eyes, nose burning at the want to sob.

She went close to the mirror, not wanting to ruin the makeup she put on her eyelashes, carefully wiping the forming unwanted tears. She still looked horrible despite her attempts to make her look more awake, but it was good enough compared to what she saw when she first got out of bed.

She quickly made her way down the stairs to the Great Hall, hoping to at least grab a piece of toast before class.

She raced to the Slytherin table. The students had that sense coming off them, the feeling that they’ve been content and full, ready for the weekend as it quickly approached. Her stomach wasn’t happy, so she grabbed a piece of toast cut diagonally and spread butter with jam, trying not to combine the two condiments.

She bit into it kinda quickly, already seeing a group of Ravenclaws leave the Hall. She knew it was just because they had a habit of being prepared and responsible, but she did have a couple traits from that House, and being persistently on time was one of them.

“What’s the matter with you? Trying to gain weight, I see.” She heard a snicker, boys around her chuckling and girls giggling. She looked up, confused on who the person who spoke was talking to.

She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy, silver eyes staring right at her with lips turned up into a smirk.

“W-what?” She pathetically squeaked, pausing mid-chew. The toast’s texture felt weird on her tongue, the urge to just chew it was getting greater as it got wetter with her spit. She suddenly felt like throwing up.

“Are you deaf? And how are you eating another one?” He snarled, looking disgusted. “We just ate.”

Th laughter seemed to get louder in her ears, echoing in her head. The toast didn’t seem so appealing anymore, her stomach feeling sickening. She felt like throwing up.

She cleared her incoming dry throat. “I-I was-”

“Was what? Gaining a million pounds in one meal?” Draco interrupted her attempt of explaining where she was the previous night. He snickered, smirk widening at the rising laughter at the table. She couldn’t help but notice some yellow robes joining them within the green, a few Hufflepuffs finding interest in the occurrence.

Her cheeks warmed, heated, even, and she stood on wobbly legs, eyes burning with liquid that she desperately wanted to go away. She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with great effort. She couldn’t seem to carry things like she usually was able to, the tears decreasing her ability to use her muscles.

She didn’t want to scan the people there, just in case she spotted one of them in future classes and have to experience awkward eye contact, but she did anyway; specifically Malfoy.

His sliver eyes met hers and the differences were clear. Hers was full of see-through gloss, folded with innocence and gentleness. His, however, full of hardness and hatred, looking at her as a way to challenge her to see what she would do.

And she did something. The gasps that were heard from the girls, the chuckles and soft curses from the boys were ignored, she just did it.

She had grabbed the spoon from the jam she used earlier, scooping an abnormally large amount of the spread and aggressively flung the scoop right in the middle of Draco’s chest. The jam splattered on his spotless ironed robes, green and black replaced with stained strawberry jam. His pale face finally was given color, chunks of strawberry on his cheeks.

Draco practically growled. “You little-”

She huffed, breaking through her nose as she broke her eyes away from his face after glaring.

She stormed out of the Hall, tears in her eyes that she harshly rubbed away.

“My father will hear about this!” She heard him holler after her. Her anxiety rose, not wanting to get in trouble with Mr. Malfoy, but the burning in her eyes distracted her. She doubted he would actually do something to her, his father, but the lingering thought of being expelled was in the back of her mind.

I’m in so much trouble, she thought, rubbing her cheeks that now had thick streaks running down them.

“Hey!” She heard, the voice the one that she heard yelling at her just moments before.

She walked faster, not wanting to encounter him once again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He said, suddenly grabbing her shoulders and forcibly turning her around so she faced him. A gasp escaped her lips, not having enough time to wipe her puffy eyes so he saw it all. Her face was red, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment he caused her and from rubbing the continuous tears. The once was whiteness around her eyes were no more, they were now red and almost bloodshot looking. Her eyelashes were wet and her body shook as she looked at him. He still had the jam on his robes, the red for sure going to stain. His face was clean though, like he wiped it off before he went to make fun of her more.

“What’s this?” He sneered, chuckling at the sight of her tears. “Crying about the truth, are we?”

She shoved him off her, his hands coming off her shoulders leaving a not so satisfying sting behind. “Shove off, Malfoy.”

He laughed. “What’s the matter? Not my fault you’re fat.”

Her breathing stopped, the breath in her lungs pausing mid-way as she looked at him, a moment of silent bracing between them.

“I’ll have you know,” she started, voice wet as the tears seemed to flood her throat not just her eyes. “That I was studying last night and missed dinner.”

Draco was smirking at her reactions, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Missed dinner? Studying?” He scoffed out a laugh, not believing her so called alibi. “That’s your excuse for stuffing your face?”

The girl stared helplessly as he laughed at her, eyes showing nothing but satisfaction as he watched her fall apart in front of him. She was drowning, and he was above the surface waiting for the bubbles to stop.

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat through a clogged throat, turning away and starting to walk away towards the bathroom; her first class was the last thing on her mind.

“Oo so threatened!” He called after her, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t forget to miss lunch too!”

His laughter and calls faded out as she stormed into a girls bathroom, the cold space abandoned as everyone was probably just about now getting to their lessons.

It felt like her tears were a river, and her eyes were the dam, the bricks breaking as soon as she entered the bathroom. The water came flooding out, killing whatever there was in its path.

She sank to the floor, green robes and sniffles, her hand held high, fingertips grazing the surface of the water’s depths, waiting desperately for a hand to reach for hers and pull her out.

The bubbles of screams and pleads rang within the water, no air inside for it to be heard.

Her brain took over, wanting nothing more than to escape and be free again.

She sat there for a while, bottom getting numb as her eyes felt like they would fall out after all that hard labor.

She got up, legs wobbly as she had a horrible flashback of when she stood up from the table of the Great Hall.

Leaving her bag disfavored, she arrived in front of the mirror and gazed reluctantly.

What she saw displeased her very much so. Her hair was a representation of the word ‘mess’ if it was alive and breathing, as well as her eyes being redder than before.

She scanned her reflection. She’s always hated her face. Her nose was too big for her liking, her lips were too plump, and her eyes were small. She liked the color but wished they were bigger so they could be seen better. Her hair didn’t have volume despite the constant Charms she casted to make it look more full.

She looked gross.

She turned away, brain already taking a mental image of her appearance, labeling each flaw of her face until she couldn’t see the image anymore. She dug her hands into the hair she hated, tugging at the strands and yelling inside her brain to shut the hell up.

But as usual it didn’t, it just smirked at her as it re-read the list of things wrong with her. She would die before it was finished, the never ending enumeration lasting centuries.

Fat

Stupid

Worthless

Stupid

Dumb

Weird

Stupid

The tears flowed senselessly, her cheeks so raw she couldn’t feel them falling anymore.

“You again? You do know this is the boys bathroom, right? Or are you just dumb. Honestly, all that food going to your head?”

A dark chuckle followed the remark, making her hold her breath at the cold voice behind her. She looked around, noticing it was the boys bathroom, and she didn’t realize before since she was too busy trying to breathe.

She turned around, puffy red teary eyes meeting his.

The smirk seemed to wipe off his face. He took a small step forward, his robes coming into the soft light that was on, causing her to once again see the jam stains. He tried to chuckle nervously to break the tension but he failed miserably.

“Woah, you oka-”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat, wet lips feeling like she didn’t just lick them, but like water was flowing out of her mouth. Like her lungs were full of water, gurgling her voice as she tried to breathe. Her feet were touching the sandy bottom now, the coldness of the water that never saw daylight chilling her skin in the most intense way. Her toes tried to hopelessly kick off the rocky bottom but she just sank back down, limbs pathetically moving in the liquid around her.

She picked up her bag in her hands, it feeling like a weight in the river that was flooding her body at the moment. She exited the bathroom with quick yet shaky legs, lungs still swollen with pain and the strong desire and need to take a breath.

The Slytherin that was left behind, the boy above the surface and constantly seeing the sun, stood utter less. His feet felt cold on the tile beneath him and his lungs took normal full breaths.

He wanted to walk and rush after the girl, he wanted to bend over the river and touch its surface, hand wanting to feel she desperate fingertips. But she was already at the bottom, so sticking his arm in wouldn’t be of any use.

He wanted to jump in and swim to the bottom, limbs moving as the water got colder against his pale skin, turning it even whiter, but he wouldn’t be able to make it that far down without coming up for a breath.

But he was the reason for her being in the river in the first place, or at least going from being foot deep to being at the bottom, feet grazing the sand.

And yet his feet were glued to the ground, silver eyes dulled over with a light grey, fading his eyesight.

His lips parted for a gentle breath, one he knew she couldn’t take, and picked a spot on the tile to stare at until his brain started up again.

The thorns were piercing his hands, blood already flowing down his wrist, the red looking bright as ever in his pale skin.

His black dress shoes took him through the huffing grass, the air kinda breezy but the colors of plants were nice for his grey eyes. The cement was evermore, row after row in the grassy ground. He knew which one he was looking for, yet not quite the place.

The name in stone was bright and noticeable, for he could recognize something like that from centuries away.

He bent down, knees crackling and elbows resting on the end of his thighs. He first set down the jar in his hand, turning it so he saw the picture of the strawberry to represent what flavor jam it was. He then set down the roses, deep red in color that set free the pain in his hand that he was doing a good job at ignoring.

He huffed before taking a nice long full breath for her, giving her a taste of crisp air that she wasn’t able to experience.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, gesturing to the flowers that he set down, the black ribbon around the stems mocking him. “Just like you, loves.”

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!🫶🏻

[braidlottie]

copycat

pairing: professor!matthews x transmasc!student!reader

summary: after your english professor catches you plagiarizing on your latest essay, she gives you a punishment you'll never forget.

tags: smut, nsfw, 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (reader is 19, lottie is 40), professor matthews and reader secretly dating!!! this is not just a random hookup lmao, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, handjob/blowjob, professor matthews being mean :((

word count: 1k

"any more questions?" your professor turned around to the class after wiping the board. she got no reply, shrugging and putting her glasses on her head, holding her hair back. "okay! have a good one, everyone!" she excused everyone, watching them put on their backpacks and walk out.

this being your last class today, you were so happy to get home and relax. you can do your homework tomorrow. "hang on, honey. can i talk to you really quick?" professor matthews touched your shoulder, pushing you back down into your seat. "uhh- of course. is everything okay?"

she shut the door, and drew the curtains on the windows. she sucked in a hard breath, sitting back down in her chair. she gestured a "come here" with her fingers, slipping her glasses back on. she pulled out another chair from behind the desk, and you walked over to her. and as you sat down, you saw multiple paragraphs highlighted red. "does this look familiar to you?"

you began to read the hook of the essay, your stomach dropping when you realized it was yours. you turned to your instructor with wide eyes, the feeling finally settling in that you were caught.

"wait! it's not what it looks like." you tried to save yourself, but there was no hope. "it's exactly what it looks like, sweetheart." her hands were crossed, giving you a serious but sympathetic look. "would you like to tell me why you would copy an article and think that you would get away with it? and don't lie to me."

you had never seen this side of lottie before. she was always so kind to you and seeing her so hostile and you being the cause of it, was a little intimidating.

"i-i couldn't think of anything to write, so- i don't know, i just copied that last minute and turned it in." you answered with a pitiful look, and she hummed. "i see. so what you're saying is, i gave you a whole week to write a two page essay and you forged it?" you nodded shamefully.

“such a naughty boy.”

something about that made your cock twitch.

"please don't tell anyone, can you just pass me like you always do?" you were pleading, knowing that plagiarism this serious could get you kicked out of school. "if anything, i should tell someone! i should drop you from this class right now."

regretful tears of shame began to well in your eyes, lottie noticing and sighing. "'m really sorry, lottie. just- don't drop me, please."

she tsks, standing up and holding your chin up. "fine, i won’t say a word to anyone. but i’m not letting you get off scot-free.”

she pulled you up by your shirt, one of her hand on your ass cheek and the other on your belt buckle. she slowly held up your shirt, marveling at your chest. you couldn't believe how fast she loosened your belt with one hand, the buckle jingling as you whined when you realized how embarrassing your boxers were.

"spider-man? really? god, you just get cuter and cuter, don't you?" she shook her head. "i want you to bend over, so i can spank that little ass. you deserve it for being such a bad boy." she forces you over her desk, pulling down your boxers teasingly slow. "lottie.. please..." you looked back at her, squirming when her nails scratched your ass. "you don't have to do this."

"oh, but i do." she smacked your right cheek, getting a loud groan out of you. "and you better stay quiet." lottie noticed how your groans got whinier and desperate after each spank. "i think you actually like this, hmm? you like it when your professor spanks you for being so naughty?" her voice got deeper, her rhythm not skipping a beat. you whined, shaking your head against the wood.

"then, what's this?" her hand swipes up your thigh, collecting the slick dripping into your boxers that you had no knowledge of. "i bet you're hard right now, hmm?" you couldn't even answer, groaning into the desk. she turned you around, your tdick rising from the surprising gust of wind. "aww, look at that," she lifted you up by your thighs, sitting you on the desk. she lifted up the hood, finding your throbbing, pink head. "fuck." you squirmed in her hold.

"ah, ah, don't curse. bad boy." your dick was held in-between her fingers, stroking you up and down. “fu-ahh!” you felt her hand slap over your mouth.

“am i going to have to gag you? be. quiet.”

now that you think about it, you were kind of glad you plagiarized.

you were trying to say something, but your mouth was still covered by lottie. “what was that, sweetie?”

“i want your mouth. please.”

“you want my mouth? where, sweetheart?”

you hated when she made you describe everything so literally, especially during sex.

“c’mon, tell me, baby.”

“you already know.”

“but i want you to tell me.” her hands squeezed around your waist.

“mm- i want your mouth on my cock, please.” lottie grinned at your shyness, soaking up all the adorableness from your embarrassment. “good boy. since you asked so nicely…”

she crouched down, tongue swirling about on your twitching cock, your cunt clenching onto nothing so needily. “lottie…”

“you know that’s not my name here, sweet boy.” she watched your face scrunch up in desperation. “professor… ‘m gonna cum,” you choked out, your thighs trembling from the wet, warm feeling of lottie’s lips sucking you.

“oh, i bet you are. cumming in your professors mouth on her desk? such a dirty little boy.”

you whimpered, so close to the edge.

then all of it just- stopped.

“nononono, please, please, lottie-” you shook your head, crying from the denial. “you didn’t think i was really going to let you cum, right?”

a tear flung from your eye and lottie scoffed, brushing it away with her thumb. “you’re still on punishment, darling.”

she pulled your shirt down and helped you off the desk, pulling your boxers and pants back up. “you better go home, and write that essay, the right way, and have it on my desk as soon as class starts monday. and you better not touch yourself. understand me?”

“yes.”

“yes, what?” she zipped up your pants, kissing your neck.

“yes, professor.”

“there’s my good boy. now run along.” she spanked your stinging bottom once more to send you on your way, watching your legs wobble as you scrambled out of the room.

taglist: @t4tnat @jaywritessometimes @girltwinklater @kessellluvr @lotties-ashwagandha @shipmanisms

[noroamenial]

I wrote some more Raphael x Tav!!!

spoilers for story stuff in Act 3, its there to set the scene.

uhhhhhh cw: a pretty suggestive start (it's just paragraph.)

basically it starts at the end of a sex scene between Raphael and Tav. After that its just a bunch of sweet. And the main plot is a date between raph and tav.

....“Take me, Raphael.” and oh did he. Passion and lust coupled into a starburst of an orgasm, the stroke of his cock drove you insane. Through a mix of biting, scratching, gentle words, wandering hands, and three orgasms you were laid sated and bare on your bedroll. 

Raphael sat beside you, stroking hair from your face. He sighed, leaning over to kiss you briefly.

“Will I see you again?” your voice and thoughts had returned, albeit hoarse. 

He looked at you, contemplating for a few moments. Something swirled behind his amber eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Yes.” he stayed close to your face to speak softly. “Once you arrive in Baldur’s Gate, meet me in Sharess Caress…try not to let your companions tag along.” he glanced at the bedrolls around camp. “Then we can discuss over dinner.” he smiled, looking down at you once again. 

You smile back, coaxing him down to kiss his cheek. Raphael obliges.

“Good, now take care to remember our plans. And do try not to die, my dove.” he scolds lightly, pulling the bedroll’s blanket around you. 

~~~

Your exhaustion had turned to excitement as soon as your party had made it to Baldur’s gate. You reserved the rooms above the Elfsong tavern for your companions before heading out. You were meant to meet Kithrak Voss at Sharess Caress along with your other…confidant. So hopefully your party wouldn’t connect the dots too easily. 

The morning you had woken up after your last encounter with Raphael, you were greeted with your whole party and their deep concern for the bite marks, scratching, and not to mention the infernal lettering hastily scrawled up your arm. You honestly couldn’t even give a half assed excuse. And thank the hells no one could read infernal—you couldn’t either but that's besides the point. You assumed it was just a reminder from Raphael.

In Sharess caress Kithrak Voss spouted nonsense about the devil Raphael and freeing someone before scampering off to the lower level of the city and telling you to meet him there after meeting with Raphael. You sighed, you had thought that this meeting would be something more…casual, rather than some new contract business. 

Begrudgingly you let your companions—Astarion, Gale, and Karlach—come with you. Now that they knew it was Raphael, they insisted. With how much you left out of disclosing your rendezvous, and Raphael’s charm and seeming inability to feel shame, your party might end up learning a little too much today. 

Pushing open an oak door you briefly glanced at the sign beside it. “Devil’s den” was this a usual arrangement? Seeing as it was a room inside a brothel, you didn’t particularly want to know if Raphael was an employee or a patron. 

The quick light up of his eyes as you led your party into the room was all that you needed to confirm what this was going to be. It was only for a second, the gentle amber of his true irises, before it faded back to a washed out rich brown for his human form. It's not as if his human form wasn’t attractive—it was. It was just that you had been longing for that form bathed in the soft camplight glow.

“My dove and her flock have finally come to my nest,” Raphael clasped his hands together in front of him, his easy smirk lazily sprawled across his lips. 

“Though I believe I asked just for you,” he mutters, taking your arm suddenly as you got close. His free hand pulling up your sleeve, thumb rubbing across the infernal writing in ink still clear on your arm. 

Karlach fidgeted at your side, you could tell she had to double take as not to strike the devil. 

“Anything you have to say to them, you can say with us around too.” She growls, leaning forward. The teifling makes a motion with her hands for him to brush off and he does. 

“Oh it’s fine by me, but it might not be fine by her.” Raphael shrugs, backing up. 

“And why would that be?” You ask hesitantly, meeting his gaze.

“You know why,” he shrugs again, “anyways, to business.” Raphael explained his deal to you, he’d offer the Orphic hammer to release the Githyanki prince from the empower and the astral prism and in return he wanted the netheres crown.

“…After a century long rage, I decided that my time would come.” He smiled, “and here it is, the dead three’s little representatives stole it right from under Mephistopheles nose, and I may regain it.” 

“Do not agree to this.” Gale warns from behind you. “Netheres magic is wild and untamed, it must be studied and understood.” 

You hesitate here, you had promised Gale this artifact, but centuries of disappointment and even wrath could come from turning Raphael down.

The devil must have noticed: “I won’t make you decide now, after all, you have other things to do before then.” He let out a sigh, gazing out the window as his expression fell.

“Thank you,” You sigh. And suddenly you’re both standing in silence. You can tell your party is shifting uncomfortably behind you, they don’t want to be here longer than they need to.

Raphael clears his throat, 

“One last thing, then I will let you go.” You watch as his gaze looks you up and down. “I promised you dinner. If you’re still interested, come back at sunset. Just you this time, my dove.” And his smile returns with the name. 

~~~

Your heart was beating so fast as you and your party left to go back to the Elfsong Tavern. Truth be told, all you could think about was what do you possibly have that would be suitable to wear on a date?

Your companions were less giddy. 

“Dinner? For what? When did he promise you that?” Karlach was talking into the air, hot steam rolling off of her shoulders as her infernal engine worked inside her. “Promised you? You better not be making some sort of deal with him. You can’t. I know firsthand the consequences of making a deal with a devil.” 

“Don’t go.” It was Gale’s voice this time, “I know you think you can handle everything, after you’ve handled—“ he waves his hands up, “—all this. But don’t. Please.” He places a hand on your shoulder. And at this point you can’t tell if he’s more afraid of losing you, or the potential to study that artifact. 

You shrug his hand off as you see the Elfsong in sight. 

“Well Astarion, any opinions?” You sigh, looking over at the pale elf. 

He shrugs, “If you do this, do it out of your own benefit. And If you end up in harm’s way, we’ll come running.”

That was one of the most caring answers the vampire could have come up with. Maybe he was seeing part of himself in you, or maybe he really did just care. 

“Thank you.” 

~~~

You had already spotted your companions across the tavern eyeing you. After confessing you had a ‘date’ and that’s why you were sneaking away from the tavern so late, they had followed you. At first you laughed at how they tried to be sneaky, but now it was just annoying. 

You were sitting near the back in a reserved booth, it was in a corner with a little alcove above it, and a single candle in the middle of the table. You had dressed up, some black outfit that had caught your eye the day previous. It had little silver embellishments and white trim lace, it cost a pretty penny, but you felt as though you deserved at least one nice thing. 

Tracing the smudging infernal on the inside of your arm, you sighed. You shouldn’t get your hopes up for anything. It was more likely that Raphael wanted a contract out of this encounter and was just nice enough to save you from embarrassment directly in front of your party. You suddenly felt really stupid with that last thought. Why would someone desire your company in such a way? Nevertheless a devil of all beings. It seemed that all you had been doing lately is giving. Giving to your companions, whether that was emotional or physical. Giving to the damn parasite in your head. Giving to the emperor. Being the conduit to the end of something greater than yourself. Every action, every consequence hangs over your head every day, every second of your journey. You are a beginning and an end. A tool for greater purpose. 

You swallowed hard, looking at the small flickering candle inside of a half mason jar. This wasn’t good, you were holding back the urge to burst into tears. 

“Usually I am nothing less than punctual.” A deep sigh and the creak of wood, and Raphael was sitting beside you in the booth. He had that sharp tang of sulfur with him, meaning he must have rushed in not long ago. “But I was taking my time, apologies.” Raphael was one for attention, but his usual outfit was gone in place of something more neutral, dark grays and maroons, accented with gold. It was a change from the vibrant blue. Stray burning cinders floated from his hair as he combed a hand through it. The human glamor was probably rushed too. 

He flashed you a grin that faltered when your eyes met. 

“It's okay.” You murmured, dabbing at your eyes. It was more embarrassing than anything to be caught so emotionally. 

“And, I'll admit, I’m glad to be a bit more casual with you.” He teased, taking your hand in his as soon as you finished. “As my favorite entertainment of course." And as you meet his gaze, that uneasy feeling returns.

"It actually...was really exciting to be asked out to dinner." you admit, "And I'm excited it was you who asked me."

That had left him quiet, no quip or remark. He angled his head to look at you. Perhaps he was taking in the genuine tone of your words, or maybe he was just content with the fact that you wanted what he wanted.

“Your companions are here.” He says after a moment of silence. 

“I know.”

“They are glaring.” 

“I know.” 

“I take it they don't approve.” He chuckles. 

“Nope.” You can’t help the smile that comes from you. “I’m allowed to go on a date and not disclose the who, what, and where.” 

“So they followed you?” 

“Probably.” You shrug, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Let’s make this night as long and enjoyable as possible, because I know I’m getting a stern lecture the moment I leave.” 

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private then?” He proposes, kissing the top of your head. 

“In a moment, we’ve got one of these reserved booths. I want to makeout with you openly.” 

For some reason, that perked him up exponentially. Perhaps his desire for performance and attention. “Whatever you wish, my dove.” He purrs, hand leaving yours to instead gently squeeze your thigh. “I would give you the world if you asked.”

“Why is that?” You ask, moving to face him. 

“I am fond of you.” He chuckles, “I don’t like things like I like you. If you weren’t in the middle of a life or death situation—I would court you slower. But you’re mortal, I have to be quicker lest you slip from my grasp all too quickly.” 

There was a slip of worry in his tone, perhaps love all too soon lost. Or maybe just the nagging worry of losing you. But it didn’t dwell long as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. And finally, there was that warmth you had been missing. 

~~~

If this is well received I could make a part two! or even a smutty prologue but here is what I have to offer.

[oneknightstand-if]

As has been mentioned, I've been using it since the very beginning and it's come up in discussion several times on this blog at this point, so I'm giving my current opinions on it as a coding function.

Some parts of the game used it heavily while some parts used it lightly as I tried to determined which way of coding was more time efficient. After using it for two years, I've pretty much come to the conclusion that outside of certain circumstances, widespread use of multireplace is a waste of time for me.

There may be people who can easily parse the wall-of-text paragraphs that multireplace tends to create...

"In some of my worst dreams, I'm stuck in a memory of @{trauma the children of our band being dragged off to the Harrower|the children of our band starving last winter|a dying child|my followers, when…when I failed them|my followers dying|an old comrade dying|someone I had to kill|an old friend trying to kill me|a friend being Harrowed|a helot girl being Harrowed|being inside a Harrower|Plektoi coming for me|Theurges raining fire down on us|being locked in a dungeon|being poisoned|being speared in this arm}."

But those people aren't me.

I end up introducing a butt-load of typos and errors using multireplace that seriously slows down my editing phase (and is also more likely to get past me into the public beta). Most reported spacing issues (missing a space, a space where it shouldn't be) were caused by multireplace.

I also end up wasting time if I start using multireplace as a simple if/else replacement and then decide, no, I actually want to add in more conditionals/flag variables/do something more intricate that multireplace can't do, so have to go back and redo the whole coding from scratch again.

It also hampers the function of Random Test, that if you set up an if/else conditional that's impossible in the game, Random Test can let you know that line is never reached. It can't do the same with multireplace.

Since multireplace only saves vertical space (which is only going to save you a couple kilobytes per file if that) and line length isn't something that's advertised in the published games, time/bug efficiency > spacing efficiency for me.

So outside of preset macros such as pronouns & bond levels for characters, I've been mentally slapping myself to try and get out of the habit of using it over if/else statements at this point.

[liz-allyn]

cw: real life tragedy, immediately followed by fake spiciness

It’s been a long time since I posted anything original. But I’m trying.

I have a ridiculously long peter x honey smut tale about 90% complete. I started writing it in July. Real life is getting in the way.

A friend of mine died a week before Halloween.

My dog died three days after my birthday.

My family’s dog died on Christmas.

Almost a week ago, I found out that my estranged biological mother passed away in a hospice clinic. A medical examiner gave me the news six days after she died. I think the last time I spoke to her was 2017.

All this is to say, I’m having a rough time. That’s a shit ton of unfortunately timed trauma.

But I’m still here, trying to get through one day at a time. One paragraph at a time.

Speaking of which, a sneaky peaky… please enjoy.

@sincericida @moonyslove78 @blooming-violets @withahappyrefrain @mrshipsmcgee @rae-gar-targaryen @p3mybeloved @drew-garfi

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. She was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him.

Her hands then went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving red trails on his creamy skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss. Her teeth tore at his lips, and he groaned into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backwards a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the gap they created. An eerie calm settled over them, like the barometric pressure plunging right before a storm.

Honey blinked at him owlishly, mouth open and her palm throbbing.

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess; hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin. His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dapped his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquiste lines of his face were stained pastel pink. His eyes were black as night.

Peter watched her, pupils dialating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

You'll Be Okay Kid, I Swear

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt.

Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

(Human Au where legendary lawyer turned French and Spanish teacher Darius Deamonne (no he doesn't know how he made that career change either) becomes attached to a blond traumatised student who is absolutely awful at languages.)

---------------------------------

I wrote most of this in one sitting after reading Mon Horrible Chéri by ghostrat on ao3 and getting really attached to the idea of a teacher Au, so here we are!!!

I have ideas for more chapters, but right now this is all I got. Hope you enjoy!!

----------------------------------

Darius's head was pounding, the scratch of his pen ticking, circling and underlining never-ending lines of I woke up, I brushed my teeth, I ate my breakfast  not aiding his headache in the slightest. His fault for assigning three paragraphs from every student, he supposed.

A hesitant knock on his classroom door sent his train of thought grinding to a halt, being replaced with a haphazard tornado of insults for whatever colleague thought it appropriate to bother him after hours.

"You can come in."

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt. Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

Ah yes. Luz Noceda, 2C, third row. He liked her mother, the woman knew how to pick a good bottle of wine (he thought fondly of the bottle of Pinot Noir he received after Luz got a perfect exam result last Christmas).

Darius refocused his attention back to the student in front of him, and the well thumbed sheet of paper in his hands.

"I'm not a tutor."

The boy's face dropped as he began fidgeting with the corners of the page.

"Right. Yes, I know that, it's just- well if I fail another foreign language exam I can't be Head Boy anymore a-and if I lose my position my uncle-"

Darius noted the way the kid picked at the seams of his jumper, his face ashen with dread in a manner he had seen many times before in his students the morning of exams, although this kid in particular looked like he might crumble into a thousand pieces at the drop of a pin. He was studying the floor as though if he looked hard enough, it would swallow him whole.

Christ almighty. He sighed, shuffling the pages off the table and held out a hand expectantly. He wasn't going to finish grading all of those now anyway.

The kid shifted his gaze to Darius's outstretched arm, staring at it like a deer in headlights for perhaps a second too long before snapping out of it and handing him the assignment.

Darius examined the paper for a second, immediately recognising Mrs Hallsted's illegible handwriting. The old bat still hadn't figured out the printer, instead continuing writing out 20 worksheets by hand.

Beneath the other French teacher's scrawled instructions, it was clear the student had written, crossed out and rewritten his answers about fifty times, explaining the paper's condition and rendering it unusable.

Pulling out a fresh sheet from a drawer in his desk, Darius picked up his pen and began writing the assignment title and date in impeccable cursive, pausing for a second when he remembered he had forgotten a rather crucial detail.

"What's your name?

"Hunter."

Darius resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hunter what?"

"Oh, uh, Hunter Wittebane."

Wittebane. Hm. The name was familiar, and not from the boy it was attached to. No, Darius felt like he had heard that name before, in a past life. He shrugged it off, adding Hunter Wittebane to the top of the page.

"Right, so this all looks fairly manageable, if a bit cryptic. Where are you getting caught?"

Hunter leaned over the desk, his brow furrowing as he attempted to read the paper upside-down. Darius waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating for Hunter to move behind the desk. He followed suit, pointing hesitantly at the first question, the letters barely distinguishable from eachother in Mrs Hallsted's poor penmanship.

"I didn't know how to format the answer."

Clicking his tongue, Darius rewrote the question again, explaining as he went.

"So since the question is asking for an account, you can leave out the name, date, address etc," he began, tapping a crossed out scribble on Hunter's page with the end of his pen. "What you'll need to start with is a general statement, remember you're trying to show off your ability to understand tone as well as your grasp on the language."

Hunter nodded, taking it all in as Darius described the difference between formal and informal vocabulary in clear detail.

"You should be able to figure this all out with a good set of notes, Mrs Hallsted did give you some, right?"

"Yes, she did, I don't really understand them though."

Darius nodded, reaching into his desk drawer to retrieve a fresh set of notes. Pulling out a highlighter, he gestured for Hunter's attention and started marking out sections of text.

"This is all stuff I recommend just rote learning, it's not ideal but you're better off just having it memorised. Here," Darius continued, circling a title in purple highlighter, "are the grammatical rules, and the exceptions which again, I would just learn off."

He noticed Hunter nodding along in the corner of his eye, his eyes gleaming with new-found understanding. The clear explanations were definitely doing something for his demeanour, his fingertips tapping on the desk in excitement rather than anxiety.

"These are just examples of formats, and here's just a worksheet if you need it when you're studying. The front is all short refresher questions and the back has the complicated stuff that needs lengthy answers," Darius finished, stapling the pages together and handing them to Hunter with a flourish. "Is that okay?"

Taking the notes from his hands, Hunter did one last flick through before nodding again, his thank you muffled by the face mask.

Darius waved him out, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh and Hunter?"

The student in question paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Tell me how you got on, when you get the chance?"

Hunter's expression changed, a lopsided smile forming under his mask from the way his eyes crinkled. He gave one last awkward wave before disappearing into the hall, leaving Darius to the pile of papers on his desk, which he was debating putting off just one more day.

--------------------------------

:DDDDD

Take none of the advice I wrote here to heart by the way, I made all of it up on the spot.

This was mostly written to lament about my hatred for French and unclear instructions but instead now we have my first ever published Dadrius fic!!!!!

If you liked it please let me know, I am but a simple lad that needs constant attention or I explode/j

---------------------------------

[chuitu]

Since i won't be continuing my A03 anymore... I'll be summarizing (most) of my AU's lore through something I'd like to call "explained in 30 minutes!",,

You'll have an entire half assed summary of what was to be in my au's lore (with some prepared doodles if rad enough) so I don't need to worry about writing it anymore, y'all will get the idea reading the summary anyway! I'm so fucking behind,, Anywho

Time for me to test how long paragraphs can stretch in Tumblr!!

What happens after 'Clouds //ACT 2//' in 30 minutes!

So if any of you guys remember the heck of a cliffhanger i left behind in A03, The news sprung up that a life draining + magnetic and ever so shifting gravity field pops up outta nowhere, but eventually a majority of folks know well and foremost that's Yeva's work... but something is clearly wrong. 🤭

Redson being the impulsive and too quick to act young man he was, he bolts out the door to go grab his bestie before things get way more out of hand than it already is, Macaque assuming the role of the responsible one since Nezha hasn't caught wind of this shit yet, catches up to the redhead only to hear that the little half-baked demon doesn't have a plan at all.

And an added addition to problems where Cinnabar (The one lookin like some security guard), actually called one of their superiors, only for word to reach the entire sector (That's totally nothing to worry about in the long run).

Skip forward to when Redson arrives at the main spherical field, Cinnabar indirectly notes how the field only drains you if your powers are active, so as long as kiddo doesn't jetpack fire drives his way to Yeva, he should be fine... supposedly.

Another skip forward bro goes through a whole parkour montage to get to the main building where Yeva was literally tied up in the last chapter

Don't worry folks he's a professional at this... I think...

He gets to her, partially scratched by much of the flying debris, he tries to unbuckle her free, but the metal belt welded itself altogether (Well shit), and much of the building starts to fall apart and swirl around her, forcing little bro to put his pyrokinesis to work, It gets worse.

"Cmon Yeva! Wake up already!! WAKE UP!!"

As if all that yelling is gonna help, and he could feel every bit of his strength faltering...

His spark dwindling every second... he could catch glimpses of his own hair fading to black... It wasn't looking good,,

Next thing he knew, he passed out as soon as the storm finally calmed... A worried sick voice of a friend screamed for help, but not for herself... For Redson.

Now we cut to the moment he woke up, his hair looked different, there was less volume and only a bit of red was left down his sideburns and lower scalp... Barely capable of picking himself up, he threw all other questions out the window as soon as he saw Yeva accompanying Nezha,,

He stumbles as he ran out, he could barely take in any information whatsoever, but the words he could make up were "It's for the best" and "She should be able to learn how to- powers- if anything happens".

A disheartened Yeva who could only look away from Red in... what was that look... disappointment? shame? towards him? herself? Or the event that led to Redson losing his flames...

He never got the answer, until 120 years later.

[minniiaa]

I AM FROTHING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!11!!!!1!!!!!! YOU GOT ME BARKING

First of all, thank you ^-^ <333

You've not only satisfied my simp heart with bottom Law but also my yearn for and emotionally constipated Law being proven wrong

Second, I have more ideas or course :D

This is a gigantic leap from my previous… contributions, but I want to share my love for something I enjoy just as much as my little guys (grown ass men) getting railed in such a way it puts the trolley problem to shame. Sweet, sweet aftercare, I dunno what about it that enthralls me but just- like- I- jsbdudbskospaks-

It's an honest 50/50 whether the aftercare situations I think up actually comes after sex or if it's all I think of. It has me by the throat man.

Something about Law feeling safe enough to tell Luffy when he's had enough without feeling the need to force or threaten Luffy, or not holding out far past his limit so Luffy doesn't “get bored of him” makes my brain melt and mold back into the shape of a sea urchin.

OH, MORE THOUGHTS!!! >:0

Here me out, modern au, Law comes back to their apartment more tired than he's ever been after the longest shift he's pulled in a while. All he wants, more than anything, is their bed, screw the shower, he couldn't stand long enough to take one and he knows the moment his knee bends further than what's needed to walk his body will collapse. So he heads straight to bed, unsurprisingly, Luffy is awake and anticipating Law's return to give him his “goodnight kiss” that became the only constant thing Luffy upholds. Law tosses himself into bed as soon as he gets his pants off, leaving them on the floor along with his shirt, and Luffy is immediately on him. Not to Law's dismay, he knows he won't last long but the fact that Luffy still wants him when he's coated in sweat and deadweight kind of turns him on. He's right, he doesn't last when Luffy eats him out while running only the pad of his thumb up and down the base of Law's shaft, and GOD does everything *hurt. Law doesn't get that post-nut daze, instead he's hit with an ache deep in every muscle and bone from the souls of his feet to the back of his head that he has no choice but to succumb to. So badly does he want to feel Luffy all over him, all up in him, but he can't ignore his limit if he tries. He gets what he wants anyways, without having said a word Law's exhausted body is crushed by the concrete hold Luffy calls a hug, and Law couldn't be more grateful for Luffy's mysterious workout routine. It's the silent communication of Law's needs that relaxes him further, not needing to rely on his voice for Luffy to know, to understand, his pain makes it all the more easier to just let Luffy take care of him.

You got me out here writing paragraphs man, you've changed my chemical components on a spiritual level lol. Also, I stand by that my headcanon dumps are a bit much, so just know that I don't expect a masterpiece response every time. I MEAN THEY ARE ENCOURAGED CAUSE GYATT DAMN, would ABSOLUTELY eat your writing while dressed better than for a wedding and a napkin in my lap, but I dunno, I don't want you to think I'm trying to make you pump out tailored content for me. Definitely just like my own self-consciousness wanting me to make that clear sorry lol I think this might be the largest headcanon dump I've shared.

-💫💀💫

ANONNN I AM SO SORRY I JUST CHECKED MY INBOX AND SAW THIS BEAUTY!!

I am sooo glad you enjoyed my little oneshot I wrote and it scratched the itch of your last message. I just took that idea and RANNNNNN with it I have to admit.

I am also super happy that you came up with your own head canons omfg I'm frothing. I definitely can't write a whole story this time, but you inspired me to add some of my own little head canons because it was just too good!

You are hilarious and I am picturing you dressed for a wedding waiting for dinner but it's actually just my writing. Don't feel self-conscious, I live for this shit. You can leave headcanons whenever though I can't promise I'll be able to get back asap, I will always slurp it up and add my own thoughts if it's something that speaks to me. Maybe one day you'll decide to share your own stories and I will be the one who gets to leave my headcanons in there! :)

With that being said, here are my thoughts:

I loveee Lulaw aftercare (and just aftercare in general cause who doesn't like the sweet moments after getting your insides rearranged), especially your situation. I'm deceased at the thought of Luffy always waiting up for Law's goodnight kiss. Does he do it because he wants Law to be the last thing he sees every night before bed? Or because he wants to make sure that he's awake if Law needs him after his long hard days at work? Maybe both, Luffy is self-indulgent and also wants to do whatever he can to make Law feel loved and comfortable.

Sometimes Law needs Luffy to fuck him until he forgets about how shit his day was and how maybe he lost a patient and he just needs his mind and body filled with nothing but Luffy who can push him to the edge in unimaginable ways. Luffy never says no, he could eat Law for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He just loves watching the way his normally tense and irritated lover falls apart underneath him. Other times, Law just needs his partner to give him a quick and much-needed release before pulling him into his arms and giving him the attention he craves when he can barely think straight after a stressful day, his body screaming at him to just shut off and let go.

Luffy knows Law so well that he never has to tell him what he wants which is great because Law is terrible about asking for things. He never wants to be a burden, never wants to feel like he's taking too much from Luffy when he's already given him everything he's ever wanted and more. Luffy feels Law's body going limp after he comes, how he sighs contently and buries his face into his chest. Law just needs him there to recharge him, to soothe his weary body and soul and Luffy loves him so much he would never think of doing anything different.

Luffy knows exactly what Law needs in those quiet moments in the dark. He runs his hands over Law's aching body, healing him with his soft touches. Soft kisses are pressed against his skin, no intent to go anywhere further behind them even though Luffy yearns to feel Law around him, to hear his pretty sounds echoing through his ears. That can wait for another time, right now he will just satisfy Law with his gentle caresses. He wraps his arms around Law, pulling his weary form into his arms, so close that he begins to forget where he ends and Law begins just the way he likes it.

Law usually gets so flustered and cranky when Luffy spills his feeling out but they've been doing this for so long now that Luffy knows Law will let him say whatever he wants when they're like this and he takes full advantage of it. He plays with Law's hair, telling him how much he loves him, how he's so lucky to have him in his life, how he wants to be with him forever. He lists all of the thing he loves about him-his compassion, dedication, strength, and beauty.

Law loves the way Luffy's voice sounds when he whispers these sweet nothings into his ear. He's so calm and quiet, so different from his normally loudmouthed self. Sometimes he responds, though usually only with a "thank you" or "I love you". Words are hard for him even though he feels just as strongly for Luffy. It brings him comfort knowing that Luffy never expects him to say anything back, that he does this simply because he wants to.

Once, in a fit of insecurity, Law asked Luffy if he feels neglected because Law is so terrible with words and even though he tries, he just can't express how he feels inside. Luffy simply smiled at him and said "I know how much you love me. You don't need to say it. I just like to tell you because sometimes you get in your head like you are right now and forget". Another time, he apologized to Luffy for being too exhausted to move a muscle after Luffy went down on him. Just like before, Luffy smiled and said "Making you feel good makes me feel good. Taking care of you makes me happy."

After that, Law realized he might just be the luckiest man in the world. He stopped worrying about if Luffy wanted or needed more from him on these days when he he couldn't give anymore. He graciously took all the affection he was given, allowing Luffy's calming voice to lull him to sleep, saying words Law would never be able to accept were all for him.

That's all for today, sorry if it was a little messy I am too tired to proofread any further. Thank you once again for the food for thought <3333

[tumblezwei]

Bear with me I'm about to go insane for a few paragraphs.

Actually scratch that I meant a lot of paragraphs, because this became so much longer than I intended.

A thing that Honkai Star Rail is utterly obsessed with doing is masking the involvement of Aeons in certain events or encounters with their own personal symbolic language. If you read a piece of text and it mentions amber or constructing walls, for example, you can be pretty confident that it's referencing Qilpoth. Similarly, mentions of flapping wings, multicolored material, or things smelling of fruit is likely in reference to Tayzzyronth.

The Swarm Disaster in particular is rife with this shit. You can drive yourself insane reading through Trailblaze Secrets trying to parse through whether this line is meant to refer to something, or if you've been staring for way too long and need to slow down. In particular you can drive yourself insane looking for references to Terminus the Finality.

Terminus in kind of annoying because they don't have an entry in the Data Bank, but they are referenced well enough that we know a decent cursory amount about them. The main facts being that they somehow exist and move backwards in time, they are currently asleep and murmur prophecies, and they have two factions: the Omen Vanguard and the Creed Exequy.

The symbols we can generally look out for when it comes to Finality are concepts of time moving backward, prophecies, and, of course, references to "finality."

And to add more context to what I'm about to say, I have to mention that the Finality is all over the Swarm Disaster (so is HooH the Equilibrium but I don't care about them right now). In one of the Trailblaze Secrets we learn than an Omen Vanguard managed to hear and decode part of the prophecy murmured by Terminus and tried to spread that prophecy to members of the genius Society, but all who learned of it were killed by Polka Kakamond along with the Omen Vanguard. And like, the same part has Finality prophesying Tayzzyronth's death, which maybe implies that this prophecy is what caused the whole Swarm Disaster in the first place. But I'm also not a great theorycrafter so take that with a massive grain of salt.

The point for this post being, Terminus is connected to Tazzyronth in terms of their possible role in the Swarm Disaster.

Why bring all of this up? Because I watched "the "Fables About the Stars" again.

This trailer is unique among the many Hoyo have put out because it's one of the best jumping off points we have to sorting out the different symbols and motifs used by the Aeons featured in it. One of whom is mentioned three separate times without being explicitly shown. And I bet you can guess who.

The final minute of the trailer, after the Harmony, we get a rush of lines and images about the unplayable Aeons that are likely important to HSR's story. The images and titles that flash by are, in order, Aha the Elation, Ouroboros the Voracity, Idrila the Beauty, Tayzzronth the Propagation, Mythus the Enigmata, HooH the Equilibrium, Fuli the Remembrance, and finally, Akivili the Trailblaze.

"But that's weird," you think. "Where are those mentions of the Finality you talked about?" And that, my fellow mentally ill friends, is where this gets fun for me. Because when you turn on closed captions for that video, almost each reference to an Aeon that Black Swan says is accompanied by another phrase in parenthesis. No other Aeon earlier in the video gets this, it's just the Aeons in that last minute.

Now, some of these are in reference to the Aeon that the line in Black Swan's poem is referring to. But others, in my opinion, are referring to one Aeon in particular.

Aha -

Ouroboros -

Tazzyronth -

Mythus -

The first reference to Finality I think appears is right after "the mariner's intemperance" with this line:

"End of All Things" seems pretty Finality-coded to me. Why they are referred to as "the infant" I can't tell you. maybe something to do with how they exist backwards in time. Much like the prophecy given on Tayzzronth, perhaps Finality's existence predates their birth. Another strange aspect of this line is it's transition into Idrila, who doesn't seem to get a reference at all. The glass shattering into their title might imply that they are "the mirror," something suported by the fact that one of The Beauty's factions is called the Mirror Holders, but I don't really know enough to be confident about that. Considering Idrila is one of the missing Aeons, we can maybe take this line as a hint that Finality also had a role in Idrila's disappearance.

The next reference I've already shown. Just after Idrila we have the line introducing the Propagation, and the phrase (as they enter the dream (Consciousness)." If my ramblings about the Swarm Disaster previously were coherent enough, you might have already connected the dots on this one. If Terminus was indeed responsible for Tayzzronth's ascent to Aeonhood, then this line can be ready fairly literally. To put it in less flowery words: "Listen to the Propagation as it spawns into existence."

The third reference is thus:

Now, "the shapeless prince" is a reference to HooH, of that I'm....mostly certain. And what makes me the most certain is the next phrase "Against the Current." The concept of "currents" being another fun little symbolic reference to Terminus.

Reading more into the Swarm Disaster, you can also begin to see that HooH, alongside Ena the Order, is greatly involved in the Propagation's demise. Tayzzronth's appearance disrupted the equilibrium of the universe, and obviously that's HooH's whole shtick. So Terminus (who flows backwards in time) murmurs a prophecy that spawns Tayzzronth into existence, and HooH (Against the Current) participates in Tayzzronth's destruction. You see what I mean?

And that's. Really it. As a closing note, you know what else is fun? Outside of Idrila (maybe, neither I nor the other lore enthusiasts I follow have quite parsed that out), each Aeon mentioned in that last minute of the Fables About the Stars trailer has a role in the Swarm Disaster. Aha, of course, was one of the key players who was brought on by Ena and further recruited Akivili for help. Ouroboros was created because of the Swarm Disaster. Followers of the Enigmata are mentioned creating false histories of the disaster (this one is my personal theory). HooH as previously explained. And Fuli because of this one particular Trailblaze Secret which might have been about Akivili falling into IX and Fuli grabbing their memories before they were consumed, but honestly this post is long enough and I'll explain that one later if people are interested.

But uh, yeah. The Swarm Disaster has made me go a little nuts and so has the Finality.

[walkawaytall]

9 lines, 9 people (except y’all know I’m probably not tagging 9 whole people)

Shamelessly lifted from @virtie333 because I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul (I am not, actually).

Uh, look, everyone I’ve seen thus far has been posting 9 paragraphs, which isn’t how I define lines, but I think I’m actually very wrong now that I’ve thought about it for like three seconds, so I will be doing what everyone else does except I already can tell I’m not going to be able to remember 9 usernames to tag, so I probably will fall short there.

-_-_-_ -_-_-_ -_-_-_ -_-_-_

He scoffed. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know my last name. How the hell would I know if I have a middle name?”

Leia stopped walking, confused. “Your last name isn’t Solo?”

Han seemed to realize his mistake as she spoke. He stopped a few steps ahead of her and scratched the back of his neck nervously before shrugging in a clear attempt to appear more unbothered than he felt. “That’s the name that was given to me when I enlisted. Guess they needed somethin’ to scream at me when they weren’t usin’ my number.”

“You didn’t have a last name?”

He shrugged again and looked back at her, eyes betraying how cornered he apparently felt. “Told ya before, my ma died when I was real young. I don’t remember what our last name was.”

“They didn’t tell you what it was or at least give you a new last name?” Leia asked, baffled by the idea. She knew her situation was different than Han’s — she had been adopted, after all, and her parents had made it very clear to everyone that she was as much an Organa as any natural-born child would have been — but she assumed that caretakers would still make sure the children they were responsible for had a full name even if they were never adopted.

“Who’s they?” Han asked testily.

Leia squinted at him, surprised that what she meant wasn’t obvious. “Whoever was responsible for you. Whoever took care of you after she died.”

“I took care of me,” he snapped and Leia flinched.

Absolutely-no-pressure tags for @otterandterrierwrites, @diplomaticprincess, @lajulie24, @madame-alexandra, @lightthewaybackhome, and anyone else who wants to participate (invite yourself! All the cool kids are doing it!).