#This isn’t very accurate but it was funny to me

[chukleberryink]

Love me softly, for tender is my heart

Also posted on AO3!!

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Soft. 

Not a word to be used when describing Simon Riley. He was “The Ghost”- an unshakable force, a get-it-done-no-questions-asked type of man. A good soldier, a damn good lieutenant, and lethal in every single sense of the word. Skilled with a knife the same way an artist is with their paintbrush, with a gun like a poet to their words. The number of lives he’s ended without so much as blinking an eye speaks to this in not as many words, he knows this.

So no, Simon would never describe himself as soft.

But maybe, like this, he could be. Languidly curled around Johnny, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Protecting him from the dangers of the world they face, the world that the two of them willingly and eagerly throw themselves into every day for the safety of the “free world,” if you could even call it that.

It should be noted that John Mactavish isn’t a soft man either, he kills as often as Ghost does nowadays, and a demolitions expert and a sniper are not the makings of such a man. And it's funny, Simon thinks, that he deals with both blasts and camouflage. But it so very accurately reflects Johnny as a person. Loud and quiet, observant and audacious, flexible and yet bull-headed. When Simon first met him, in Las Almas, he got a taste of that, but it's only been enforced since. The man that by all accounts is a walking contradiction, an oxymoron, is the one that he fell so deeply in love with.

Love. 

An emotion that Simon thought had been beaten out of him. Even disregarding his father, Roba, all of it, years in the service seemed to kill whatever was left. A bullet between its eyes, unflinching- that's what his world does to love. But Simon has to admit, there isn’t a better word for how he feels about Johnny. Because there isn’t much he wouldn’t do if Johnny asked him to. And yeah, that scared the ever loving shit out of him, but it also was the best feeling in the world. He completely adores the man sleeping next to him, understands him in a way that “no one else could,” to quote soap himself. And Simon knew the feeling was mutual, which is honestly why he didn’t run away with his tail tucked between his legs when all of this started. The knowledge that all of this was reciprocated is what made him stay.

True to his callsign, before Soap, he had felt like a phantom in this world. Nothing to tie him down except for the mission, no real place to call home (except for the shitty apartment he bought in London when he was forced to take mandated leave). It was easy for him to get lost in the title, to embrace it completely. 

Then Las Almas happened. He didn't know if it was the sting of betrayal that caused him to stick by Johnny or the sense of comradery, but Ghost knew it was then that they clicked. 

(If Simon ever found it in himself to be honest he’d admit that it was earlier, a couple of days after they first met. Johnny was a competent soldier and not shitty company.)

But regardless of the circumstances that got them here, the important part was that they were. Here. Together. Even though Simon was used to betrayal, thinking about it always hurt in ways he couldn’t describe, so he made a conscious effort to be in the now. 

He refocused his attention back to the man beside him. One of his favorite things to do was watch Johnny sleep, as creepy as that sounds. But the peaceful, quiet breaths, the occasional flutter of his eyes as he went through REM- it reminded Simon that he was safe. That they both were. That, despite it all, they were still kicking. 

(They didn’t have a name for this. Partner would be the closest thing- boyfriend felt too juvenile for a lieutenant and a sergeant serving in a secret task force.)

Johnny’s hair was getting long. Not the sides, never the sides, but the actual mohawk itself was getting unruly, going down to the base of his neck. Not regulations by any means, but the 141 didn’t really do things by the book. Like, for example, Price knew about their relationship but didn’t care, and that sure as hell didn’t fit into fraternization regs.

(If Johnny asked, Simon would marry him. In a heartbeat. He’s thinking of asking him anyway, eventually. It doesn’t have to be anything big, it could be just for them. Or they could do the whole nine yards, a big wedding, with Gaz and Price and Laswell and anyone else who wanted to be there, if that’s what Johnny wanted. He’d do the cheesy scottish traditions, indulge in the handfasting. Anything.

Anything.)

Simon moves closer to Johnny, feeling very sappy. Fuck, he loves him so much. He runs his hand through his hair, careful not to wake him. They had a rough op, nothing too bad but it left both of them exhausted. Johnny needed as much sleep as he could get, as he typically has a difficult time falling asleep during downtimes on missions (Ghost thinks it's because of Las Almas). 

He checks the alarm clock on the nightstand, 12:23 blinking back at him wearily. It's time to try and go to sleep, and he figures that the adrenaline has worn off enough. He throws an arm over Johnny, stares at the side of his head for a moment longer, content to just admire, then feels his eyes drift shut.

Simon (predictably, as right after a mission he's always high strung) shifts between hazy consciousness and sleep. He continues to do so for about an hour until he feels the arm covering Soap move. He’s alert now, monitoring Johnny’s every movement. 

He isn’t sitting up, but his breathing has shifted from distinctly asleep to distinctly awake. And he's breathing kind of harshly, like he had been woken up from a particularly unsettling dream. Which is probably true. Neither one of them are strangers to nightmares, or even odd dreams. It comes with the line of work. And when they do have these dreams, the reaction isn’t always violent. (Sometimes it is. Sometimes, it ends up with Ghost on the floor with Soap's arm pressed firmly into his neck, eyes glossed over and unseeing. Or, with Ghost clocking Soap’s jaw, trying to get away from an imaginary attacker). 

But other times it's this. It's groggily sitting up (he's sitting now), breaths coming out in quick succession. 

Simon feigns sleep, not wanting to embarrass Johnny. It isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, but sometimes Johnny doesn’t feel that way towards himself. He knows that if Soap needs him, he’ll wake him.

He can feel eyes boring into him, probably monitoring Simon’s breaths, closely mirroring the scene from earlier tonight.

He hears Johnny shift closer to him, feels the pressure of his head next to him.  He must have laid down again. It’s silent for a minute, like he’s holding his breath, then he lets it go shakily. They lay like this for a minute, till Simon feels a kiss on his forehead and hears a creak in the mattress. Then, the weight is gone and footsteps lead to the bathroom. The light flicks, the sink turns on.

This is more than enough to wake up Ghost, so he’ll seize this opportunity in a moment. 

A beat. Two.

Then he opens his eyes and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He slowly rises, joints protesting (is he getting old?), then goes to the bathroom. 

There, Johnny leans forward, palms gripping the edges of the sink. The water is running, but Johnny pays no mind. He looks kind of lost, Ghost thinks, as he watches him in the mirror. 

He hasn’t noticed him yet, so he calls his name lightly to get his attention. 

“Johnny?” He flinches a little, then turns to look Simon in the eye. He breathes a sigh that speaks a little of relief, and the tense posture melts a little.

“Hey, Si,” he responds. It's soft, vulnerable, and it makes him move into action.

He leans forward and grabs the back of Johnny’s neck, bringing him in for a hug.

“You okay?” 

He doesn’t respond verbally. He just kind of shrugs then buries his head deeper into Simon’s neck.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks while slowly runs his hand down the back of his head. They rarely do, when it's like this. If it isn’t precluded by violence, they don’t feel the need to.

Johnny shakes his head no. 

So they don’t talk about it, but he’s clearly shaken. They sit there for a couple minutes, Simon holding him close. When it gets like this, with one of them practically non verbal, contact is the most important thing. So he keeps holding him, rubbing small circles along his back. At some point Simon leans over and turns off the water, but they never stop holding each other.

And he would stay like this all night if Jonny needed, he really would, but it's getting late and they have a long day tomorrow. It wouldn’t hurt to suggest it, so-

“Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Johnny doesn’t respond right away, and for a minute Simon thinks he hadn’t heard him. Then,

“Yeah,” 

They shuffle to bed, Simon underneath Johnny as he uses his chest as a pillow. He runs his hand up and down his arm, soothing both of them. Slowly the tension in his shoulders begins to dissipate as Ghost continues his ministrations.

He plants a kiss on Johnny’s forehead, then another. When he goes in for the third kiss he leans his head up and captures Simon’s lips in a kiss. And he never gets tired of this. This is familiar, no matter the circumstances. 

After a moment, Johnny pulls away, eyes a little red rimmed.

“Hey, what's this? You’re alright,” Simon cups Johnny’s jaw and searches his face. He leans in to kiss him once more and Simon goes willingly. When they break away again, Johnny just looks at him. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Simon Riley. I don’t ever want you to forget that,” he croaks after a minute, accent strong from sleep and his voice scratchy from the silence and presumably trying not to cry.

And Simon doesn’t even think about it. Doesn’t have to. “Feelings mutual, sweetheart,” He responds, because it is. Yeah, he isn’t the best with words, but Simon knows Johnny knows what he means. “Where’s this coming from?” 

“I just…” he trails off, contemplative. He shifts his head so he isn’t looking at Simon anymore, he stares at the ceiling. “Rough sleep, is all. You know the drill.” 

Of course he does, so Simon just nods his head in the affirmative. He thinks that will be the end of the conversation for the night, as Johnny doesn’t elaborate. For the most part, his breaths have evened out, and for a moment Simon thinks he’s fallen asleep. 

“Do you ever think about after?” Johnny asks once Simon has started to drift off. It's quiet, like he’s afraid to voice it. Maybe he's afraid to wake him up, or maybe he’s afraid of the vulnerability- it’s a hard read.

“After?”

“After the job. Retirement. Something like that.” Has he?

The truth is that before Johnny (that’s how he's started categorizing his life now), he hadn’t. Like he stated before, Simon wasn’t really real before him. It was all “The Ghost”, and never Simon Riley. He had always assumed that he would die on the job, life taken from him like so much had been in his past.

But now, after he and Johnny had started all of this, he finds himself thinking about it. In the small hours of the night. In the loud moments when Soap tells a particularly cheesy joke and Simon can’t help but laugh. In the interludes of missions. During briefs, when he manages to split time between focusing on the job and thinking about him. 

It might be all he thinks about. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He answers simply. “Do you?”

Johnny nods his head.

“And what would you have us do?” Simon asks. 

“It depends on the day, I guess. Sometimes I think we go to Glasgow. We buy a small apartment. Maybe get a dog.” He responds after a minute. 

“Maybe a cat too, yeah?”

“Anything you want, Simon,” It makes his heart warm. “Or maybe we move to the countryside of london.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Plenty of room for the dogs to run,” he says. “Less busy.” 

Johnny grunts in affirmation, then asks, “The clean air would do us some good, don’t you think?” 

Simon does, and he tells him as much. They both bask in the silence, probably thinking of the same thing.

Because he can see it now. Him and Johnny in a small apartment, or a cottage in the countryside, or the seaside, or anywhere. It doesn’t matter. The two of them wrapped together when they go to bed and when the sun comes up, taking the mornings slow. No hustle and bustle of the army, no nagging worry that the next mission could be there last. They take on animals, because Johnny wants to and so does Simon. Around the holidays they have their family over- the one they made for themselves- and they gather around a table and reflect about their war stories. 

It’s good. It might be home.

“Do you think about it a lot?” Simon asks Johnny.

“When the going gets tough, yeah. Not that I would anytime soon, but yeah. I do.”

There’s a moment of silence as Simon thinks.

“When we’re ready,” he starts, “We’ll find somewhere. Just for the two of us. And you’ll get your dog and I’ll get my cat. And we’ll stock the cabinets with that tea I like and keep the coffee hot for you so you aren’t an absolute cunt in the mornings,” Johnny laughs at that. “And we’ll wake up together, and go to sleep together, and just live together. And it will be ours.”

“Sounds like you’ve done a lot of thinking too, Simon.” He responds, and tilts his

How could I not?  “I’ve floated a couple ideas around, sure.” Johnny chuckles, like he sees right through him. He probably does.

Johnny tilts his head to look at Simon again, less haunted and more warm. Alive. It's got that look that's only reserved for Simon. 

He knows it’s love.

They stare at each other for a while, even as Johnny’s eyelids start to droop. Simon should be responsible, suggest to him that they catch some shut eye, but he can’t. He likes looking at Johnny’s eyes. His face.

He’s got this smile. A little loopy, a little reserved, but strong nonetheless. Simon swoops down and kisses that smile, long and soft. He never stops smiling through it, and it's contagious. Simon pulls away smiling.

“I love you Johnny Mactavish,” He says, a little breathless. Johnny tended to have that effect on him.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. 

And they stay like this, until they both drift off.

And in the morning they’ll have their duties. They will debrief with their captain, and Ghost will fill out the appropriate paperwork and Johnny will ask to help, and they’ll do it together. And that big bad world that Simon protects him from, well Johnny does the same for him. He’ll pull him to bed when he's gotten caught up and hasn’t noticed the time. And he’ll massage his overtly tense muscles and they'll kiss each other's bruises that weren’t there last night. And then they’ll go to sleep together, maybe Simon will sneak into Johnny’s bed this time. 

And then in a couple weeks, or a couple of days, they’ll get shipped out again. Do this dance all over again. 

But, in the end, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that they will do it together.

[paranormaltheatrekid]

Starkid members typecasts

Jon Matteson - marketable plushie

Mariah Rose Faith - girl who loves her phone

Lauren Lopez - the most powerful woman you’ve ever seen or little boy

Dylan Saunders - dad

Joey Richter - nerdy protagonist or powerful villain

Curt Mega - Dumbass (affectionate)

Kim Whalen - powerful magic user or christian mother

Bryce Charles - The coolest person you’ve ever seen

Jeff Blim - CHAOS

[hanakihan]

listen I’ve been plagued by idea of Apothecary Diaries AU and Rook is MaoMao you need to see my vision—

[theflopwonder]

Me, naively: Omg haha what if I wrote a fic abt the party at the fortress of solitude in superman/batman 26 as an excuse to do some Tim & Kon character study?

Me, after reading 4 separate comic runs from 4 different editorial teams who were OBVIOUSLY not talking to each other AT ALL to try and figure out the timeline & other logistics of this party: WHO THE FUCK FUCKED UP THIS HOUSE LIKE THIS GOOD GOD??????????

[robotwrangler]

Thinking about when I had a dream that turned out to technically be a prophecy bc it perfectly predicted a large plot development in Warframe’s storyline that I hadn’t gotten even close to yet

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[blaithnne]

Wife you truly have a gift

So. As of this past week I am officially done with Semiology training, which means that, technically, I'm capacitated to take a patient's history, come up with basic diferential diagnoses and write down their evolution during their stay at a hospital. Do I believe that? Oh, hell no. But that does mean that this past year I've talked to a lot of patients and heard even more stories about them from my professors. And my mind is a machine that turns random knowledge into Hilda content, so... hyperspecific canva presentation under the cut. Enjoy

[mrs-hatake]

jjk men and their toxic traits

warnings: love bombing, obsession, silent treatment as punishment, purity culture, possessiveness, mentions of drug and alcohol addiction, self harm, suicide attempt, self loathing, stalking and younger man x older woman.

a/n: idk what to tell you besties. i did have fun writing nanami's tho, and i think sukuna's the most accurate lol tell me what y'all think :D

Toji: Indifference 

after dating Toji for years, putting him with his recklessness during his assassination assignments, watching him bleed on the bathroom floor while shiu poorly stitches him up, having to move apartments every few months because someone with a grudge or an enemy hunts him down. 

dealing with all of that crap, you’ve exploded once you’ve reached your boiling point.

as much as you love toji with all of your heart, want him to see the beauty of the world and feel alive again, you simply cannot stand by while the man you love kills himself.

that’s why you gave him an ultimatum; change careers and he fixes his life  or you walk out.

you’ve known from the start that toji’s a stubborn mule but you didn’t think that he’d choose his job over you. 

though heartbroken at first, you eventually end up packing your things. maybe now that things have gotten serious and toji sees you slowly removing pieces of yourself from his life, it’d serve as a wake up call.

toji doesn’t even bat an eye.

he’s lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching a baseball match from the television set he’d stolen from his family.

even when you block his view — hands on your hips and all — he just scoots aside and continues watching.

“you knew what you were getting yourself into from the start.” comes toji’s monotone voice after your yelling, “i’ve warned you and you accepted who i am.”

silence fills the room. you stare at him, hoping that once toji sees the heartbreak, rage, frustration and that little bit of moisture glistening your pretty eyes, he’d see the error of his ways.

but no such thing happens.

instead, toji continues to sit on the couch with his mesmerizing forest green eyes, the very ones that made you fall in love with him, are glued to the screen.

when you march to your bedroom to drag out your luggage, toji doesn’t even offer a goodbye. he doesn’t even watch you leave. toji doesn’t bother to chase after you when you’re halfway down the stairs.

Satoru: Love Bombing and Obsession

having been born as the blessed one, nothing really impresses gojo satoru. 

he has mountains of money in his bank account, a stream of endless good luck and women kissing the ground he walks on. with a snap of his fingers, he can have whatever he desires at the palm of his hand.

yet, once you reject him, something inside satoru snaps. no one, no one has ever rejected gojo satoru. it’s always the opposite. 

when you reject him for the fourth time in less than a week, satoru draws up a plan that will surely win you over.

it starts off small. he sends breathtaking bouquets of flowers to your work place with cute little notes praising your beauty. whenever he sees exquisite jewelry, he’s sending them to your house, asking you to wear them. when he’s feeling very d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶  determined, satoru will wire you almost 8 million yen. satoru is then showing up to your work place with the excuse of wanting to take you out for lunch. embarrassed by the glances not so subtly thrown your way and the loud whispers haunting your ears, you agree.

and, honestly, satoru isn’t that bad. he’s got that boyish charm to him, he can be pretty funny and he’s intelligent. maybe you were too harsh with him…is what you initially thought until satoru’s true colors started to show.

he will call you throughout the day asking you what you’re wearing, what you’re eating, what will you eat, who are you with, who were you with, who did you talk to, who are you talking to, who will you talk to and you get the idea.

satoru goes as far as installing tracking devices in your car, home and work place just to stay updated. he even threatened your male co-workers, relatives and friends from talking to you as he strongly and firmly believes that he’s the only one you need.

gojo satoru is like a disease you can’t escape.

Kento: Silent Treatment

nanami kento’s biggest hatred in life aside from the corporate tyranny is adults who are quite immature.

and you know this. but sometimes your emotions get the best of you.

like the other night, you had a pretty nasty fight with kento. you had accused him of flirting with another woman at the end of the year party the company kento is working at hosted. when kento defended himself and explained that the woman was all over him, you yelled that he did nothing to get her to back off.

it was a heated argument which consisted of you yelling your head off and kento constantly defending himself.   

“i’ve had enough of this.” kento mutters as he snatches his pillow and blanket from your bed to go sleep on the couch in the living room. 

come the next morning, you realized your mistake. you barely slept a wink the night before, tossing and turning at your immaturity. guilt lodging itself deep into your soul as you accused kento of infidelity when that man is crazy over you. he works a job he hates just so he can provide for you and for your future family.

with a clearer head, you send him a text.

wanna grab lunch after work?

my treat 🥰  

hopefully, the warm and cozy ambiance of your favorite restaurant will remind you of just how loyal kento is, which will then allow you to apologize and trust him even more.

you go about your day; showering, eating breakfast, cleaning the penthouse. all the while you keep glancing at your phone. you’ve worried your lips so much that they’re bruised and cut, metallic flavor dancing on your tongue.

when kento doesn’t return home, you call him about twenty times until it goes to voicemail.

kento only returns at around nine in the evening. he doesn’t greet you, doesn’t even glance at you. it’s like you’re a ghost. 

you convince yourself that kento is still angry and probably needs some time to cool off but when this behavior continues for almost two weeks, you’re at your wit’s end.

“baby,” you stand in your walk-in closet, reeking of desperation, as kento is busy tying his tie for an important ceremony at his company later that evening, “talk to me.” you plea but he’s silent as the dead.

tears blur your vision as kento continues to ignore you while adding the finishing touches.

“please.” you stand in front of the mirror, obstructing the view of his reflection. “don’t ignore me, kento. please. i was wrong. i shouldn’t have accused you and i shouldn’t have doubted your love for me. i let my insecurities get the better of me. i’m so sorry.”

for the first time in weeks, kento looks at you. actually, looks. his hands tightly grip your waist and lift you off the ground to place you away from the mirror.

dejected by his rejection, tears are crashing down your cheeks like an angry waterfall. 

you try to sand in front of the mirror but kento stops you. just as it feels like the last piece of your heart is about to shrivel up and die, kento leans in and kisses your cheek.

you’re so surprised by the gesture, you don’t notice kento leaving.

it’s only when you hear your phone buzzing on the nightstand that you’re brought to your senses.

i’ll be home late. don’t wait up.

tonight is the first night you’ve had a well rested sleep since your fight.

Sukuna: Purity and Possessiveness 

purity is everything to sukuna. he’s in a relationship with you because of your innocence, how you’re blissfully unaware of the carnal desires of man. having to rely on sukuna and be taught of one’s sexual desire is a huge power trip to sukuna. he guides you every step of the way; teaches you what he loves and shows you what you need. 

it’s such a euphoric world to live in that it’s difficult to leave it. yet it’s something you have to do. sukuna’s licentiousness is overwhelming. his malevolent behavior frightens you and you no longer feel safe in his arms like you used to.

you’ve managed to hide from him for almost three years but sukuna never stopped searching for you. when he finally finds you, it’s with a grin of victory and of mania glowing in his ruby colored eyes.

until his eyes land on your stomach, that his. instantly, he is sneering at you in disgust. sukuna’s insides curl in protest at the repulsive fact that not only are you with another man, mistakenly believing he can ever satisfy you better than he did, you let him plant his seed in you. 

you are–were sukuna’s possession and he doesn’t like to share what rightfully belongs to him. 

why should he take you back when you’ve been spoiled, polluted, by the dirty hands of another man? sukuna doesn’t go for sloppy seconds. and there’s no way in hell he’d raise another man’s child. 

as quickly as sukuna has reappeared in your life, he’s out of it. 

Suguru: Self Sabotage 

the road to recovery is a long and arduous one. but geto suguru is proud of his accomplishments. the challenges he had faced were insanely difficult but meeting you has made things much easier. 

it has taken a while but, eventually, suguru doesn’t feel his fingers twitching for his next fix. he no longer drinks himself to sleep to silence chaotic thoughts. suguru also managed to throw out all of his blades and his arms and inner thighs haven’t been marred in quite some time. 

yet all of suguru’s hard work goes to waste when the two of you had your first major fight. it was cruel. it broke both of your hearts. it forced you to leave suguru’s apartment for a few days to calm down. had you known that your fight, that you leaving suguru, would come with major consequences, you wouldn’t have left. 

you receive the call at around three in the morning. suguru’s in the emergency room after a drug overdose and slitting both his wrists. you’re in no condition to drive as you can’t stop crying, wailing your lover’s name, so your best friend had to drive you to the hospital. 

the doctors inform you that suguru’s chances are slim and you believe their words because you’ve never seen suguru so pale. even when he first met him, he wasn’t as ashy. his face wasn’t sunk in like it is now.

it’s your fault!

you broke him! 

you ruined him! 

you killed him!

you don’t deserve him!

you don’t deserve anyone!

menacing thoughts abuse you throughout the early morning. by the sun comes out and the nurses stop by suguru’s room to check up on him, you’re dead on your seat. 

thankfully, you’ve been rescued from your torturous thoughts by none other than suguru. he stares at you with a haunted expression. his tongue darts out to moisten his chapped.

“y/n,” he croacks your name and you hurry to silence him lest he irritates his throat any further but one glance from suguru has you sitting back down, “i’m so sorry.”

suguru’s voice is so low that you have to lean in to hear him.

“please don’t leave me. i can’t live without you.”

a sickening wave of terror welling up from y/n’s belly at each word suguru uttered. how could she have been so stupid? why did she fight suguru when she knows just how sensitive he is!

shame washes over y/n like tidal waves.

“i’m sorry, baby.” y/n whispers as reaches for suguru’s hand. she places a gentle kiss on the gauzed wrapped around his injured wrist. “it’s all my fault. i won’t do it again.”

y/n searches suguru’s amethyst eyes for forgiveness.

“promise?” suguru asks, sounding so scared.

“i promise.”

Yuuta: Stalking

dating yuuta is like dating an overgrown puppy. 

he’s so loyal to you that one might actually call it blind devotion. yuuta will jump through burning hopes to please and satisfy you. in his eyes, you’re the most beautiful woman blessed on earth.

dating yuuta can be exhausting as well. since he’s five years younger than you, he’s quite energetic. which is exactly what you’ve been searching for after being married to your lazy husband who barely lifts a finger to scratch his ass.

and it was fun at first but now you’re exhausted to the bone and can barely keep up. that’s why you decide that it’s time to hit the gym. you need to build up your stamina if you want to keep up with your good little boy. 

“good luck with gym today!” yuuta is standing at the apartment genkan to send you off. the tail only you can see is wagging in excitement, ready to hear a compliment for doing a good of packing your gym back.

“thank you, my little puppy.” yuuta beams at the baby voice you use and is as light as a feather when you peck his lips not twice but four times.

“be a good little boy while mommy’s gone.” yuuta fervently nodding his head sends you into a fit of giggles at just how adorable he is. 

yuuta waits about ten minutes before he’s sprinting into your bedroom to quickly change his clothes, yank the apartment door open where he takes the stairs by twos and hops on his bicycle, cycling as fast as his legs can allow him. 

he’s stopping right across the street from your gym just as you drive into the basement parking lot. state of the binoculars at the ready, yuuta enters the abandoned building next to your gym and makes his way to the rooftop.

yuuta isn’t stalking you. really, he isn’t. he just…follows you around to make sure nothing happens to you. 

it’s just like he did before he started dating you. yuuta would follow you around town, patiently waiting for him to plant himself in your world like a may flower. he knows all of your favorite places; restaurants, cafes, stores, etc. yuuta knows where you like to go when you want to be alone and he even knows where your parents live despite the fact you’ve been dating for only two months and you have yet to bring up your parents. 

Yuuta’s grip tightens on the binoculars. he despises the fact that there aren’t any male instructors at your gym. he has to watch from the side as your male teacher comes closer and corrects your posture. yuuta’s eyes zero in to make sure that the instructor’s touches don’t linger. 

after about an hour, yuuta receives a text that you’re going to grab coffee with the girls from your pilates class, girls yuuta has pulled up all and any information on them to ensure they aren’t harmful, that they won’t corrupt you.

okay mommy ♥️

yuuta will a good boy and wait for you 😇

yuuta’s on his bicycle, subtly following your car to your favorite cafe by the riverside. 

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons about everything and nothing

Ahsoka has a decent amount of allergies but only a handful are actually life-threatening and no matter how much she tells Anakin that it never stops him from treating them all the same

And by treating them all the same I mean he’s slapped some snacks out of her hands because he knew she was slightly allergic to it

In his defense the clones are really bad at keeping track of her allergies and because of that they have fed her a couple of things that were lethal to her and ever since then Anakin’s never really trusted them with food

Also in his defense Ahsoka once ate something she was highly allergic to on a dare (the poor clone didn’t know she was allergic) and all she did to remedy the situation was hand said poor clone her EpiPen before passing out

Unfortunately the clone didn’t know how to use the EpiPen so Ahsoka ended up passing out and Anakin and Rex had to rush her off to the med bay because they didn’t know how to use the EpiPen either 

Because of this incident the clones weren’t allowed to give Ahsoka food and there were a couple of signs that said “blue to the sky orange to the thigh” around the ship

I feel like everyone in Clone Wars is simultaneously touch-starved and tactile which is a very fun mix especially when I think about Ahsoka and everyone else because I like to think whenever Ahsoka asks for a hug 9.5/10 she gets one 

Master Plo is the most used to this cause Ahsoka’s been like this since she was a child and he’ll admit he’s spoiled her with hugs 

If you were to ask her what his hugs feel like she would say they feel like childhood or that feeling you get when you smell something that you could only find in your home when you were a kid

Obi-Wan is an interesting can of worms because he’s as tactile and touch-starved as the rest of them but he’s also incredibly touch-adverse which results in him declining hugs 5/10 because he just can't fathom touching someone in that moment

But when he does give Ahsoka a hug she’ll say there’s nothing like it and she would often describe it as a breath of fresh air and very soothing on stressful days 

Rex is most likely it give Ahsoka a hug bro is simply the hugger™ and she would describe his hugs as comforting if not a little awkward but grounding none the less kind of like hugging a weighted blanket just out of the drier 

She doesn’t get to see Padme nearly as often as she would like which means she tries to get a hug whenever she can and Padme will never decline her hugs if anything she initiates most of them

Ahsoka doesn’t remember her mom or her hugs well but if she had to give an example of what a hug from her mom felt like she would say Padme’s 

Anakin honestly isn’t comfortable with touching people he doesn’t know well but when he does feel comfortable with someone he’s clingy 

Ahsoka will never admit this half cause it’s embarrassing and half because she fears it would hurt the other’s feelings but Anakin’s hugs are easily her favorite something about the all-encompassing hug makes her feel safe and secure like nothing else 

But the funny thing is that sometimes he doesn’t really have the energy to hug Ahsoka so he’ll just put all of his dead weight on her which usually results in one of two reactions from her 

one. Is usually her saying “Hug me like you love me” or something along those lines to which he will squeeze the everloving force out of her or two. “Hug me like a normal person” which usually gets the smartass response of “Who said I was a normal person”

So it’s pretty obvious that Anakin and Ahsoka have their bigger competitions but they’ve also got little ones like who can make the funnier face when Obi-Wan is trying to do his work which normally ends with the duo hunched over laughing and Obi-Wan finding another place to work 

The: “Who can accurately make the noises Obi-Wan makes while stretching” challenge which just usually results in the clones worriedly checking in on them cause it sounds like they’re in pain

The: “Who can eat more ice cream” challenge always ends with Anakin regretting his life choices and Ahsoka doing the dishes because she feels bad 

Long story short they’ve got a lot of challenges cause they’re competitive little weirdos but the funniest part is they rarely keep score of who the winner is so they’re in an endless cycle of useless competitions 

Obi-Wan has slowly collected mugs for everyone he’s close with and they have a nice little home in his otherwise empty mug cupboard 

Anakin and Padme have matching from Naboo because Obi-Wan took them shopping when they were pretty young 

Padme can’t drink tea with them as often as she would like but when she can schedule a small tea break Anakin makes sure to smuggle all their mugs out of Obi-Wan’s kitchen

Ahsoka’s mug is possibly one of Obi-Wan's favorites it’s a good size and practical but’s also got nice intricate color-changing details because they both thought it looked cool

Cody and Obi-Wan’s mugs are pretty similar but their main difference is the childlike handwriting on the bottom of one that says “to: Obi from: Ani”

Rex doesn’t get a mug until later and it’s the most unconventional and inconvenient mug in all of creation the poor dude has to hold it from the sides because his hands don’t fit in the handle

And its design pisses Obi-Wan off every time he sees it the only thing that’s stopping him from smashing it into hundreds of little pieces is that Rex picked it so in the cupboard it stays 

Sometimes the group forgets that Ahsoka isn’t human which leads to very funny circumstances 

Like Rex losing a decent amount of credits trying to call Ahsoka’s “bluff” of being able to bench twice his weight 

Or at the fact that Obi-Wan was once hiding from Ahsoka and Anakin because he didn’t want the duo to see the extent of his injuries from a solo mission 

But he forgot that Ahsoka could smell and hear better than the average being so she was able to track him down pretty fast (she was also freaked out cause she could hear his erratic heartbeat and smell the blood so that wasn’t a pleasant experience for her) 

Or the number of times when she’s eaten an unholy amount of food just for Anakin to wake up at 3 am to find her scavenging for more cause she’s still hungry 

And let me tell you seeing some small hunched-over little creature with reflective eyes at that time of night would make even the chosen one screech like a banshee

[aubeezz]

Hi, first I wanna say I LOVE YOU’RE ART! You are VERY inspiring and SO incredibly talented!

I was wondering how you do your lineart and coloring? It’s so beautiful!

My lineart isn’t the cleanest and I rely on colouring to get me through

While I don’t have much energy to step by step explain every process of how I colour I mapped out the basics for you <:] by no means is my colouring the ‘proper’ way to do it, I just go with what fits my style

I prefer colouring with more intense/saturated colours because I think it makes my work pop! I’m sure there are more accurate ways online, but I appreciate you finding inspiration in my style regardless, so I hope this helps!

I use this brush for both lineart and colouring too

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

Tiny Hands, Giant Hands

Warnings: none, I mean this isn’t the best fic ever

Pairing: Hozier x Fem!reader (the gender isn’t even specified tbh)

Word Count: 613

Summary: Seeing Andy again after a long tour was the best, but something about him seemed different all it took was one touch for you to really see that.

You didn’t expect him to be at the party you got invited to. You assumed it was just some good friends reuniting after a while, and you definitely didn’t know your brother was so close to him.

“Oh hey I didn’t you’d be here” he said, making you turn to face him.

“I was thinking the same thing”, you said with a smile.

He asked you how you were and how your pets were doing. You told him about how you got a new cat and had a trip planned for Italy soon.

You both talked about everything, from his music to different breeds of cats. It felt so nice to be reunited after a long time of not seeing your friend.

But there was something different about Andrew. Maybe his hair was a little longer, or his eyes a little greener, but there was something about him that you never noticed before.

You didn’t notice but he felt the same way. Something was blossoming between you both. Something new.

“Oh my God y/n, you wanna know a funny story from the Tour?” He asked you with a goofy grin on his face.

You nodded yes, you loved his tour stories.

“So the fans have started making friendship bracelets and giving them to each other, I think it’s because of Taylor I saw her do that. It’s so sweet tho I quite enjoy it. But anyway, so one girl, she handed me a bracelet that said ‘The Hoziest’ on it. I thought it hilarious so I took it. The thing is it was much too big for my wrist. So when I almost fell off my hand, poor girl, she apologized so much. I felt a little bad so I twisted the bottom and made it fit nicely then she was so happy.”

“Awwwwe that’s so sweet the fans are sharing the bracelets with you” you said to him.

“It was very nice, but do my wrists look that big?” He asked while taking his thumb and middle finger and wrapping them around his wrist to measure.

“See not that big”, he said with his fingers around his wrist

“Andy your fingers are huge that doesn’t count.”, you said giggling, removing his fingers and wrapping yours around his wrist to measure with ‘accurate’ sized fingers.

“And your fingers are so short Y/n” he said with a chuckle.

You shook your head no and you both put your hand out to measure hands.

But because you could never have any _perfect_ rom com moment you both put out different hands. You go to switch you hands but he does too. You both go back and forth like this a couple times until he gently grabs your wrist and puts your hands together.

“See tiny hands” he says looking at you adoringly.

“No giant hands” you said, still looking down and your hands connected.

You looked up and locked eyes with Andrew. Maybe his eyes did get greener..

Your fingers were about to intertwine when-

“Hey Andrew get over here John’s trying to impress everyone with his guitar skills or lack there of.”

Andy chuckled and smiled at you before getting up to leave.

You weren’t even mad, there was a spark, you could feel it. And oh how exciting it was.

Now how would your boyfriend react to this…

[avelera]

I'm curious about your interpretation for post-hexcored viktor left jayce, and what you think he was planning on doing there before he was lead towards forming a cult. The first bit may sound weird, seeing as it seems obvious that it was, because it seems obvious to most that it's because he felt betrayed by Jayce after being revived with the hexcore after he'd been promised it would be destroyed. (thus all the divorce paper jokes, which are admittedly very funny) But... that doesn't seen entirely accurate to me. Or at least not the the only part of it, in part because he later invites Jayce down to the commune to see it and we never get an explanation as to how and why that changed - what happened that lead. And in the poke-wakeup conversation with Jayce, it seems important to me that the first thing he brought up was "what am i?", not "what happened?", or "are you okay?" In my take, there's context clues and backstory stuff that can help us infer the dots he's philosophically connecting and recontextualization he's going through in those moments (that then leads to a *further* recontextualization, and then one after that. SO much of this season on viktor's side is him internally going "hmm. apparently my entire thesis statement On How People and The World work was wrong. allow me to amend that and then act accordingly", is2g) of course, I'm not sure my take on How Deeply He's Thinking About This completely gels with your take on all his altruism is a subconscious excuse and front he made to justify his selfishness, so I'm just really curious to hear your thoughts on the subject!

I need to be clear: I do not think ALL of Viktor’s selflessness is a front!

Dear lord, he’s one of the most pacifistic, kind, generous, good-hearted people in the whole show. I do not want to imply at all that Viktor doesn’t actually care about other people!

If anything, my argument is that he cares SO MUCH about other people that when HE as an individual person needs something, like his partner to BE there for him when he’s feeling scared and alone and he wants HELP finding a way to save his own life, Viktor is literally so selfless and kind and altruistic he DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO ASK. He can’t forgive himself for prioritizing himself as an individual even when he has maybe weeks left to live, when by any measure he’d be a higher priority of urgency than the big systemic issues he’s hoping to address.

When I say Viktor is lying to himself it’s because he’s truly desperate and has spent so long thinking of others that he can’t conceptualize of how to focus on his own urgent needs. And then, when he does fully commit to saving himself, Sky dies horrifically, and it spirals Viktor into even deeper despair. He’s literally suicidal when he asks Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. It’s kind of no wonder Jayce ignores him on that front, he saw Viktor about to jump and then ask him to destroy the Hexcore, which is the same thing as jumping as far as Jayce knows (since he doesn’t know about Sky). Honestly, in most circumstances, Jayce would be unequivocally doing the right thing by saving Viktor’s life and refusing to indulge his suicide ideation by destroying his one hope in the first place.

I know you mostly asked about other stuff but honestly, it’s super up to interpretation. Fortiche is very good at offering multiple reasons for anything that we see. Maybe Viktor left because the Hexcore is controlling him, maybe he saw the weapons blueprints and gave up on Jayce, maybe he’s trying to protect Jayce by getting away, maybe he is just that fed up about the broken promise. Something weird and fucky is definitely going on IMO which is why I personally don’t buy that Viktor is totally in control there and there’s some level of Hexcore influence or mind control.

But since this isn’t prose and we’re not inside the character’s head, it’s all up to an individual viewers interpretation what’s going on and how much is Viktor. I’ve done numerous posts on how influenced I think Viktor is, why I think he left, etc and I can link those here in a bit but the newer and more pressing thing for me was clarifying: I don’t think Viktor is selfish. I think he’s so selfless he struggles to voice and frame his own dire selfish needs in a way he finds forgivable even to himself which unfortunately obfuscates their urgency to others, for example, framing his urgent person needs to Jayce as big systemic issues that will take years if not decades to address. I think Jayce in that instance could be forgiven for not seeing a couple days or weeks of detour as a big deal in the face of gigantic societal issues like how better mining equipment in the Undercity could help them, because he didn’t grasp that Viktor was talking about his own urgent needs.

Anyway I might add some links to this soon but I hope this helps for now.

[moony-2001]

The real-world impact of Lore Olympus

i.e. do your research Rachel

Trigger warning: racism, fetishization, appropriation, mentions of SA

Long post ahead

A while ago, someone told me that Lore Olympus was just a silly little comic written out of boredom. That it was made to be "funny". They told me that "[I] can't hope [for] an extremely [well-written] story when it was just made with the intention to make something goofy" and that if Rachel actually wanted to make something serious like I had, she would write a book and not a comic.

At the time of this exchange, it was past 1 a.m. and I was exhausted. I did not want to argue with this person and it simply wasn't worth my time or energy in the moment.

But looking back at that (mostly one-sided) interaction, I can't help but think that there is so much wrong with that point of view. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion about Lore Olympus, whether good or bad. But Lore Olympus isn't just some silly little nothing comic about nothing important. It is a comic that actively appropriates and erases Greek Culture. It is a comic that has no respect for the actual stories that have been passed down over thousands of years whether by word of mouth or written text. It is a comic that perpetuates a false narrative and harmful stereotypes about characters or certain groups of people. So, no, it's not just a silly little comic.

Incorrect information

Here’s an example of what I mean:

When I was doing research for my post about the 10 year time skip, I looked up Leuce to reconfirm the little information I knew about her. Wanna guess the first thing that popped up about her?

A Lore Olympus Wiki article.

Okay. How about Minthe? Hundreds of pictures of her from Lore Olympus and a LO Wiki article as one of the top 3 results. Both character are horribly represented in LO and unfortunately there isn’t really any documented stories or records that can refute how LO paints them. Because of this, other characters in Greek Mythology like Leuce and Minthe, whose stories have little to no documentation, stand to suffer the most harm from deliberate misrepresentation on Rachel’s part.

Of course well-known and better documented figures in Greek mythology face slander as well. What about Thetis or Leto? How about Apollo? All of their portrayals in LO are HORRIBLE. I have seen people online absolutely drag them to filth not because they're upset about how the character is portrayed compared to their mythological counterpart, but because they have no knowledge of how they are actually portrayed outside of LO. They just assume that's how the characters are. Similarly, people who have either very little or no prior knowledge of Greek Mythology and Culture would look at the comic and go "Yep, sounds legit. It must be true." and go about thinking that what is portrayed in LO is accurate to what was transcribed thousands of years ago.

Creative interpretations and racism/fetishization within LO

Don’t get me wrong. Creative interpretations and artistic liberties can be great. When they’re done tastefully. I personally think if done correctly, a Greek myth spun in a modern way has the potential be very good. But that's not what we were given.

Characters like Minthe, Leuce, and Thetis (all nymphs btw) are portrayed as trashy tramps who put out and are used as a foil sabotage Persephone and/or her relationship with Hades. Compare that to Greek Mythology where in the Iliad, Thetis is very well-respected by the gods, particularly Hera. Unfortunately, other similar characters like satrys (and basically any character that isn’t a god) are usually portrayed as a low-class POC that can be easily exploited, manipulated, or used as a temporary villain/lover/pawn to “get back” at Persephone, our white-coded protagonist who can do no wrong.

Additionally, there is a clear race/class bias against characters like nymphs in LO. We see many cases scattered throughout the comic of gods like Hera or Aphrodite referring to nymphs as "trash" or "low class" or the idea that nymphs do not belong with gods being heavily implied if not outright said. I cannot tell you how often I've seen Minthe be called some variant of "cheap" by the readers of LO. Even Persephone (who created the flower nymphs) treats them with such disrespect. She frequently calls them some variant of "stupid" or "simple" like saying how they're not the sharpest crayons in the box even though she's the one WHO MADE THEM. However, it's so odd not really to note that nymphs like Echo, Amphitrite, or Psyche (who was previously disguised as a nymph) are not discriminated against. This is because they are liked or trusted by the gods they are around and ergo are often portrayed as the "good ones", which is a disgusting mindset to have.

We also see the fetishization of nymphs in the comic that is disturbingly similar to the fetishization of women who are Black, Asian, or Latina. It is a known fact that Hades has a flower nymph fetish. Not only is this implied in the comic, but Rachel stated it outright in an old Patreon post. Nymphs are also generally treated as sex-symbols, disposable, and as a lesser-than. Zeus frequently displays this behavior by abandoning nymphs he knocked up in the mortal realm.

For example, when Persephone finds out Apollo is dating Daphne, she isn't upset he's dating her friend. She's upset he's dating a flower nymph, beings that are generally considered to be "rare", "dumb", and objects of sexual desire. Ew.

Even on the Lore Olympus website (loreolympians.com) nymphs are regarded as "beautiful", "desirable", and "very exotic". And when they're not described in a sexual manner they're say it with me now regarded as "low class" or "workers" for some kind of god/goddess.

Final thoughts

So not only is the characterization of characters like Minthe or Thetis harmful to Greek culture and the stories that are so ingrained in their society, but it is also perpetuating harmful stereotypes about people of color and women who are confident in their sexuality.

Of course, the characters within Greek Mythology had their own issues. Zeus was a serial rapist, many of the goddesses deemed to be "feminist" by today's standards were actually horribly misogynistic looking at you Athena. But 1. that's just how things were back then (but that does not make it right) and 2. all of the good, the bad, and the ugly is still there in Greek Mythology. They're not denying how fucked up it is, but they're also not changing their history to better fit their own narrative or the narrative of the modern world. It exists, it happened, but now it is studied and called out by historians.

Rachel, on the other hand, is doing exactly that. She is actively changing the Greek's cultural history to better fit her fic's narrative. She is constantly sweeping things under the rug or going "No this is how it ACTUALLY happened". Lore Olympus is marketed as a "feminist retelling" yet somehow, it takes allllll the ugly parts from Greek Mythology (rape, incest, problematic age gaps, dubious consent, etc.), mixes it with a majority of the issues we have in the modern world (white feminism, rape-apologists/rape culture, grooming, fetishization of certain minority groups, etc.) and then amplifies the concoction to 20. Lore Olympus cannot be a "progressive, feminist, retelling" and also have characters that are morally apprehensive/come straight from the ancient myths. It does not work. In fact, IMO it makes all the problems from both eras worse.

News flash: actual cultures that are still thriving today are not your toys. They are not "made up". They matter. Do better.

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[reiding-writing]

I feel bad for sending one request after another but like okay hear me out, Spencer is cold and it's very obvious that his skinny ass purple scarf doesnt do much, so reader lends him theirs and he gets really flustered because it smells like them 😭

scented scarves [ s.r ]

Summary:

Vegas was a pretty warm city even in the winter, a stark contrast to Quantico’s freezing temperature. Needless to say, Spencer wasn’t fairing very well in the cold, and your offer of your scarf leaves him flustered and mildly overwhelmed.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid × gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: this one’s pretty short but i hope it suffices nonetheless!

thank you for the request, you’re welcome to send as many as you want <33

It was -2 degrees celsius. 28 degrees fahrenheit.

In other words, absolutely fucking freezing.

The joys of living in Virginia.

It was blatantly obvious which of your team members were acclimated to the colder climates, or more accurately, who wasn’t.

Anyone who walked into your office, profiler or otherwise, would be able to tell.

Garcia was wrapped up in a chunky knitted sweater, a pair of thick tights under her skirt as she padded across the bullpen back to her tech dungeon with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

Prentiss was wearing a shirt and a sweater, her hands held out in front of a mini heater on the top of her desk in a desperate attempt to warm up her extremities so the rest of her body would follow suit.

And Spencer…

Spencer was sat cross legged in his chair with two pairs of socks on, a knitted vest over his shirt and a cardigan over his vest, his signature purple scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his chin as his hands gripped his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from turning into a human icicle.

Poor Spencer Reid. Vegas really didn’t serve him well when it came to Quantico winters.

If his trembles weren’t so adorably funny you’re sure you’d feel bad for the boy, but instead you’re muffling a laugh as you walk across the bullpen to sit at your desk beside him, disposing of your bag under the table and unfurling your chunky knitted scarf from your neck to drape over the back of your chair.

One of the pros of being born and bred in Virginia is that you didn’t have to worry about freezing from the inside out.

Spencer’s eyes follow you as you take your seat, and you swear you can see him shudder when you remove your scarf, as if you removing a layer of warmth made him colder.

“You good over there?” You can’t help the amusement painting your face as Spencer stares at you like you’ve got a second head.

“How are you not freezing?” Spencer’s tone carries genuine bewilderment as his eyes scan what you’re wearing, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt, alongside a semi formal blazer that you also shed to lie over your chair.

“It’s climate acclimation Spence, you of all people should know that,”

His expression doesn’t change at your answer, continuing to blankly stare at you like some foreign species that had just invaded the earth. “I know that- logically… But still i’m literally shaking from how cold it is,”

“That’s what happens when you’re a Vegas baby who moves to Virginia,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as Spencer huffs, taking another sip of his hot coffee in attempt to regulate his body temperature back to something warmer, tucking the narrow purple strips of thin-knitted fabric under his chin to expose his mouth to the mug.

“That scarf isn’t going to do you very much you know, it’s basically a glorified fashion piece,” You weren’t trying to knock on Spencer’s scarf by any means, it’d become a staple of his office wear, one that you definitely weren’t complaining about, but in weather like this it wasn’t really doing him any favours.

“I know…” Spencer sighs at his own intolerance to cold weather.

You’d think having worked in Quantico for half a decade would have stopped him from turning into a human icicle the minute the temperature dropped into the negatives, but no, of course it didn’t. Of course he continued to feel like he was sat in a bathtub full of ice despite having four layers on. Of course he did.

You push your chair back from your desk, the noise of it’s friction against the cheap carpeting of the floor drawing Spencer’s eyes to you once more, and to you bring yourself to your feet and pull your scarf from under your blazer with a small amount of struggle before walking over to him, the scarf stretched out between your two hands.

Spencer doesn’t have the time to question what you’re doing before your scarf is wrapped around his neck, immediately engulfing him in a cocoon of extra heat that his own scarf failed to provide.

He didn’t have time to thank you either, as you departed with a ruffle of your hand in his hair towards the kitchenette to fix yourself a coffee.

At first he’s confused.

Then he’s warm.

And then the lingering scent embedded in the yarn hits his nose and he flushes a bright pink, thankfully hidden under the knit.

Of course it would smell like you. It was your scarf. Your cells would cling to the yarn as you wore it and leave a permanent trace of you behind.

But it smelled like you. And any lingering molecules of coffee in his sensory neurons were immediately overridden with your scent instead.

Any conscious sense of being cold had left his body. His trembling had seemingly stopped, his brain too focused on your scent invading his nose and making him feel fuzzy inside.

You returned with your cup of coffee soon after, Spencer still coming to terms with his reality as you take your seat again. “You look much warmer now,”

You half insinuate the flush on his cheeks, although he’s unsure if you recognise the origin behind it or if you genuinely just believe that your scarf has helped insulate his neck and warm up his face. Which it had, but not as much as your scent had done.

Spencer’s normally sharp mind stumbled over words, and he couldn't help but fidget with the ends of the scarf as he tried to formulate a response.

"Yeah… thanks," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

His reaction brought a soft smile to your face, alongside a small chuckle at his seeming inability to form a full sentence. "You're welcome Spencer, but it's just a scarf,”

But for Spencer, it was more than that, it was a tangible connection to you. The combination of your proximity and the familiar fragrance leaving him pleasantly flustered and mildly overstimulated.

As the day unfolded, the team couldn't help but notice the change in Spencer's demeanour. Teasing remarks were exchanged, and Spencer, although still focused on his files, couldn't escape the playful banter.

At the end of the day, you approached him, a twinkle in your eye. "I think you should keep the scarf," you suggested, "You need it more than I do."

Spencer's shy smile revealed his appreciation, and he nodded, holding onto the scarf as a cherished memento of a day that had unravelled his usual composure.

[octavodeci]

Peabody and Sherman Robespierre has me dying because it’s so wrong in every way—but hilarious. I’m thinking though how delightfully refreshing it would be if mainstream media did their research and portrayed a caricature of Robespierre that’s somewhat accurate to who he was. Imagine an over exaggeration of that? If you’re gonna make fun of the guy at least get it right!

I mean- one of the key features he was mocked over in propaganda during the time HE LIVED was his trumpet nose (which I don’t think was very bad. Meatcanyon anyone?) I’m surprised the character designers for Peabody and Sherman didn’t capitalize on this fact.

I also have no idea why they gave him a hooked nose but I didn’t mind in the end. It was funny. I reckon the producers read a contemporary account of Max that roughly said he had a flattened look to him without considering his side profile or that ‘look’ isn’t ‘is’

BUT historical accuracy isn’t the aim of the film—still that won’t stop me.

Anyway here’s my revision. I’d fully render it, but this is my side blog. im lazy and i just wanna get my point across lol