#admittedly not my instinctive choice but sure

[mariasont]

GOOD LUCK CHARM - A.H

a/n: this came to me yesterday and i sat my ass down and WROTE

that should be me fr

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

warnings: just my babies being so infatuated with each other it literally hurts, hotch is a pining fool, i love him, i need him, i want to kidnap him to my basement

wc: 0.8k

Hotch was having a rough day. He had never put much stock in the idea of luck, favoring the belief that a path was carved from the choices made. However, if he were to entertain the notion of luck, he would concede that today, he seemed to be rather out of it.

A lot had gone wrong. For starters, he had stained his favorite white dress shirt with coffee this morning. This undoubtedly set the precedent for the day, he was sure.

As soon as he arrived at his office, he was greeted not by the familiar click of the lock but by a stubborn door that refused to budge, his key sitting on the side table in his apartment. This then led to him reaching out to the custodian for a spare, only to be intercepted by Chief Strauss, who, in her usual fashion, had a litany of critiques ready for the BAU.

The day had been steadily unraveling, and the realization that you wouldn't be in until lunch because of a doctor's appointment was the tipping point. Normally, all these minor irritations could be overlooked, but in your absence, he could truly grasp just how much he relied on you.

You handled a lot on his plate, if not everything. You planned out his schedule, answered his phone calls, you double-checked his paperwork. You consistently shouldered more than he ever asked, despite his repeated warnings about overloading yourself--warnings that he, admittedly, never listened to.

Time seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. He found himself unwittingly watching the door, anticipating the bright burst of pink and the shimmer that accompanied you, but unfortunately that did not happen. Lunch couldn't come quick enough.

His vision began to waver, the words on the page melting into an indecipherable stew as he pressed a long finger into his temples. The lamp at the edge of the desk flickered capriciously. A mental note to replace it was quickly overshadowed by the more pressing need for an aspirin, prompting him to reach for the left drawer.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, fingers reaching into the space as he pulled the flimsy object from the drawer. It was a hot pink sticky note, its surface alive with glittery ink, smiley faces, and hearts. The corners of his mouth lifted, the tension in his back easing just a hair.

Aspirin isn't in this drawer silly! First one to your right! And don't take more than 2, okay? Between that and your scotch drinking habits your liver is screaming!!!!

He couldn't suppress the laughter that rumbled through him as he pressed the note to his desk. He turned to the drawer on his right, pulling it open to find, much to his satisfaction, the aspirin. Attached to it was yet another sticky note.

You found it!! So proud!! Hope your day is going amazingly! Don't miss me too much! :)

His heart thumped louder in his chest, a wave of heat blossoming across his neck as he carefully folded the sticky notes, tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket.

When you finally came ambling into the office--your ponytail swaying, a pink ribbon securing it in place--he felt an instant lift in his mood. His jaw relaxed, fingers instinctively straightening his tie--a needless act but one that gave him a moment to admire you. You looked beautiful. You always did, but as he fingered the note in his pocket, he could feel his chest constrict just looking at you.

"Hi there, Mr. Boss Man," you sang out, voice as sweet as syrup as you glided towards him with an ease that defied that height of your heels. "The office didn't burn down without me, did it?"

"It came close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you giggled, the bracelets on your arms tinkling like wind chimes as you wrapped them around your notebook. "You look stressed. Are you stressed?"

"I'm fine, just a headache." He paused, his hand absentmindedly reaching again for the sticky note. "How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Squeaky clean bill of health." You beamed at him, shifting your weight to your toes. "Did you see my note?"

"I did. Thank you." A grin was vying for control of his features while his hand found its way to his neck, pressing lightly in a vain effort to steady his racing pulse.

"You're so very welcome," you chimed, sending him a smile that nearly made the air evaporate from his lungs. "Also, I fixed a couple issues in your calendar, and I ordered you a new lamp, I noticed yours was broken. I hope that's okay."

More than okay. You were perfect. If he were a man who believed in luck, he would be inclined to think you might be his good luck charm.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[celestialprincesse]

Hello! Can you write Lieutenant Ghost x Colonel or Captain reader, please! And take your time with it! Thank you 💗💗

I really did take my time with getting around to this whoopsie🥴 Anyways !

John Price retired four months ago, and to the surprise of everyone in TF141, had been replaced externally, instead of by one of them. Ghost, in particular, had not been thrilled with that information. Until he met you.

You'd been one of Laswell's most trusted associates, worked alongside her for years in all different military and CIA branches. Truly the cream of the crop. Despite all your acclaim, the 141 had always been a tight knit family, held together by Captain John Price. What if you couldn't fill his shoes? Keep them running like a well oiled machine?

He'd be the first to admit that despite he and Price's similarity in age, his Captain had been the closest thing to a paternal figure he'd ever had, in his own weird, fucked up and emotionally distant way.

Admittedly, you're beautiful, funny and completely magnetic - but you're not Price. Something about how - how seemingly flawless you are seems to only make you less approachable to Simon, like he'll say one wrong thing to you and not be enough.

You feel the exact same way about him.

Realistically, you know he's your lieutenant, he was Price's too. He should've been the next choice for captain. All of them could've been better for the position than you. Gaz had shadowed Price for as long as he was in the 141. Johnny was the youngest ever to pass the SAS recruitment test. Ghost was noted as exceptionally physically proficient on his file, and had been in the military since he was legally able. Not to mention, Laswell had raved about him to you. You can see why now.

When he lurches at your back, seeing you safely to your office like some loyal guard dog, you can't help but to feel so immensely comforted, like he's a storm, in which you've somehow found yourself in the eye, protected fro, the world outside. And Ghost, loyal as he is, will always protect his team.

The others had taken to you so well, instinctively protective towards the only woman on their team, although you've shown them time and time again that you can hold your own. Simon, however, is on a different level entirely. It's stayed the same since day one. Something in him calls to something in you, and vice versa, and where you go, he goes.

At first, you had thought maybe he was trying to suck up to you, earn your favour, but when he'd started getting in your space, memorising your coffee order and helping you with everything you could imagine, you'd quickly realised that your lieutenant, the big, brave Simon 'ghost' Riley, has a big fat crush on you.

The feeling is mutual.

Obviously, you've got to be careful with the way you go about showing it, especially in a professional environment where fraternisation is frowned upon. It's clear to the both of you though, the pining isn't one sided.

Maybe when you're fully comfortable in your position as captain, well settled into the team, and sure that no one will think that to only way you achieved your position was by blowing someone higher up, maybe then you'll act on your feelings. God forbid you want to. One thing you've fortunately learned in your months working with Ghost, however, is that he's a patient man. He's willing to wait, to let you get comfortable.

Good thing you're patient too.

But until then, you'll settle for the stolen glances with soft eyes, or the way he's always checking on you when you're in the field together. You'll savour the gentle hands patching you up, or the moments between sparring sessions when you sit there sweaty beside one another, just breathing, touching, being.

Pining!! Mutually!! fuck yeah!! They can't have each other!! (yet)😛

still in love though

just subtly

[findingnemosworld]

𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐦.

( sweet angel baby, you can’t convince me otherwise )

His gaze trails her every move as she effortlessly walks from the oven back to the counter with a tray of delicious and freshly baked cookies that she made, and for a moment he recalls spending time with her after school in her old home while her parents were at work, he'd sit on the counter while she baked and decorated cookies for her mother's bakery, this time however she was decorating them for her own bakery. " Those look delicious " he states, sneakily reaching his hand to take one before he felt a sharp sting which had him pouting playfully, " That's not fair baba "

" I have another batch te idióta " She giggles, carefully placing the still hot cookies onto the decorating sheet before moving across to grab the piping bag. " This for tomorrow's sale "

" They look more delicious than the other ones " He says with a childlike tone before smiling, " Yet again it doesn't surprise me, anything you make is delicious "

She wasn't sure if it was the heat or the fact that he was standing at such close proximity to her, yet his words were enough to send a surge of warmth across her cheeks, she looks away and chuckles. " I am not giving you one of these cookies " she retorts.

" Worth a shot " He smirks before allowing his gaze to wander across her choice of clothing which admittedly, had been the root cause for every unholy thought that consumed his mind in that moment, some loose strands had fallen out and instinctively, he reached his hand to push them back, the mere action caused her to look up and meet his gaze. " Annyira gyönyörű vagy " he whispers, his thumb caressing the apple of cheek while his gaze travelled down to her lips then back up to her eyes, silently asking for her permission.

" Dominik " She whispers his name with a shaky breath.

He leans closer, only a silver of space left between them. " Tell me to stop, right now and I will " he whispers against her lips, " Because if we cross the line right now, I'm never going to turn back, if we do this, you're mine baba "

Her slender digits wrap around the chain he wore, tugging him to close the distance between them, their lips had molded together so perfectly as if they'd been aching to finally meet, exchanging the ever growing longing they felt for one another; he snakes his arm around her waist to hoist her up on the counter while their lips continued to converse, muffled soft sounds escaping from either one. " Dominik " she whines against his lips, he tugs her shorts down followed by her panties before he pulled back to meet her dazed gaze, his pupils were blown, his lips swollen with a soft smile. " Please " she pleads with a small voice.

" I've waited so long for this " He states, kneeling down to come face to face with her slick pussy which glistened with the obvious arousal she was feeling which elicited a chuckle from him, " Baba " he groans before adding, " I haven't even touched you yet " he murmurs, teasing her by peppering kisses across her inner thighs.

She whines in response, her hands gripping the edges of the counter. " I've touched myself, thinking of you, of how you'd fuck me " she admits with a small voice.

The confession elicited a growl from him, " Why didn't you ever tell me when you called? " he wonders before darting his tongue then flattening it against her slick pussy inciting a loud borderline obscene moan from her, " Why didn't you ever call me when you felt bothered? I can count so many times that I was almost caught by my teammates cause all I could think about was fucking you " he groans before slipping his tongue inside of her pussy, the groan deepens when her digits gripped his hair.

" Fuck Dominik " She cried, throwing her head back; her chest heaving ponderous breaths while he continued to dart his tongue in and out of her pussy while his thumb rubbed featherlight circles against her clit. " Oh Fuck, right there ... just like that " she bites down on her bottom lip.

His gaze darts up to look at her, the sight was what he could truly describe as a masterpiece, her features contorted with pure euphoria while her lips parted, releasing obscene sounds that he wishes he can save inside of his mind for a lifetime, his thumb continued to rub her clit; only this time much more harder than earlier which stimulated her further towards her orgasm, the knot in her lower abdomen exploded and he was struck by a taste that resembled a kind of honey he might as well grow addicted to.

" Fuck, I'm cumming, don't stop " She cried, her eyelids tightly shut with tears brimming from the corners. " Shit " she gasps, " Oh yes, yes ... "

He laps up every single drop before standing back up with a satisfied grin, " Finom, ahogy elképzeltem "

She tugs him close by his chain to give him a kiss, both of them moaning at the faint taste which lingered on his lips, she murmurs in between their kisses " What’s it going to be? the kitchen or the bedroom? "

He smirks against her lips, " With the time I have baba, I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house " his tongue darts and swipes her bottom lip to gain access to her mouth, " And by the end of the night, there’s no going back "

" Is that so? " She said with a challenging tone.

" You bet it is " He whispers.

Her slender digits trail a line across his abdomen which incited a hiss that transformed into a moan when her hand cupped his prominent erection peeking through his sweatpants, " How long have you been dreaming about this? " She asks, gasping when his lips trailed a line of featherlight kisses across her neck and jawline.

" Too long " He moans upon feeling her hand slipping past his sweatpants and boxers to come in direct contact with his cock, " That red dress you wore on your seventeenth birthday, was the subject of many of my dreams, very unholy dreams "

She lowers his sweatpants followed by his boxers to free his cock, the cool air in the kitchen elicited yet another strangled moan from him, " Tell me then ... tell me about one of those dreams " she whispers with a sweet smile before pulling back to remove the t-shirt she was wearing.

His gaze darts down to her breasts, and instinctively he licked his lips at the sight of her nipples hardening from the chill air. " I ... " he opens then closes his mouth, his throat suddenly feeling dry. " How about I show you? " he suggests with a teasing smile.

" Ok " She breathes out, mirroring his smile.

He grabs the piping bag full of pink icing, and pushes a few dollops on top of her breasts before placing the bag next to them and dipping down to lick the icing off of her breasts in a leisure pace which elicited soft moans from her lips, " Dominik " she gasps. " Fuck, yes "

" Every time I watched you bake, I wanted nothing more than to put you up on the counter " He chuckles in between darting his tongue around her nipples, " And pour every icing bag you had on top of you because, of all the sweet treats you bake ... " he stands back to capture her lips in a sweet and gentle kiss, " You're the sweetest treat I've ever seen baba "

" What else? " She manages to ask through shaky breaths as he slots himself between her bare legs, the length of his cock poking her inner thigh.

" On your eighteenth birthday " He said with a shy smile, his cheeks burning red. " You wore that red dress which had those knots on your shoulders and the way it hugged your perfect body, I wanted nothing more than to take you out of that party and back to my house so that I can spend my time worshipping you the way you deserve to be worshipped "

Her eyes widened and a giggle slipped past her lips, " Is that why you were sending death threats with your eyes to Andras? "

Andras was a mutual childhood friend who didn't keep his affinity towards her a secret, and to say Dominik disliked him would be a huge understatement, " I wanted to kill him, the way he spoke about you like you were some object, made me sick! and what made it worse was the way you smiled at him, it gave him the illusion that you liked him and honestly " he rests his forehead against hers, " I was jealous, very jealous ... I was always jealous of the people you met when you worked in the café, because they got to see you more than I did, I was jealous of the people you smiled at, strangers or not, I was jealous because I wanted your smiles to be mine, I wanted to be the only one that can hold you, I wanted to be the only person that can show you what true love is, before you were heartbroken by that idiot "

Her heart softened at his confession, " Why didn't you ever tell me? " she wondered.

He finds his lips wandering across her cheek and jaw before responding, " I was scared, that I'd lose you, that maybe if things went wrong, we'd never be friends again and I would hate that because ... " he grabs her hand, placing it directly over his heart. " You are my heart baba "

With a tearful smile, she pressed her lips onto his for a brief moment before she pulled back and whispered, " You're still over dressed " she states with a teasing smile.

He chuckles, swiftly removing his shirt and throwing it next to her t-shirt before cradling her face in his hands to press a few kisses on her lips, " Spread those legs open baba " he commands with a soft voice.

She complied and without much of a warning, felt his cock thrusting ever so gently into her walls eliciting a gasp from the two of them, " I ... Fuck, that feels so good " she whines.

He pecks her lips, " Feels better than what I imagined " he growls before setting a leisure pace in which he began to thrust in and out of her pussy while his arm wrapped securely around her waist. " You feel so good wrapped around my cock like that " he moans, " It's like you were made for me "

Strangled whines escaped her parted lips, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging onto him while he continued to thrust in and out of her pussy, this time he tilted their position then upped the pace which had hit her exactly where she needed the most, her vision blurred while the knot in her lower abdomen formed once again. " Oh Fuck, right there ... yes right there " she cried.

" I'm not letting you go " He tilts her head to face him then captures her lips in a gentle kiss. " You're all mine baba, every single part of you is mine "

" Yes ... Yes " She nods before a gasp escapes her lips. " I'm ... " she bites down on her lip, " I think I'm going to cum again "

" Yeah " He cooed, pressing kisses on her neck, " I can feel it, you're squeezing my cock baba, come on ... I know you can do it, make a mess all over my cock baba "

His thrusts were sloppy just as she felt the euphoric sensation wash over her, " Fuck ... don't stop, don't stop. Oh Fuck yes " she cried, arching her back off of the counter.

" That's it baba, such a good girl " He cooed, thrusting a few times before he pulled his cock out and smirked, " You're going to be a good girl and clean up this mess? "

She mirrored his grin, hopping off the counter to kneel down in front of him, she wrapped her hand around his cock while wrapping her lips around the tip to take as much of him as she can, he throws his head back, his lips parting as a content sigh escapes from them. " Ah Fuck yes, Vedd mindezt abba az édes szádba "

The sensation of her mouth coupled with her tongue darting across every prominent vein sent his mind into a frenzy, countless nights he lied awake, dreaming of this moment, of having the one girl that consumed his every waking and sleeping thought right now was more perfect than he could possibly imagine, " That's a good girl, yes ... you're taking my cock so well, told you " he chuckles, caressing her hair. " You were made for me "

Her gaze darts up to meet him, eyes brimming with tears, pupils blown out with the intense pleasure they both felt in that moment, she darts her tongue over the slit which caused his cock to twitch inside of her mouth, the tip hitting the back of her throat which was then followed by him spilling ropes of cum straight down in a fit of labored breaths and moans, " Take all of it baba, you're such a good girl, take it all "

She laps every drop before pulling back, a trail of spit connecting her mouth to the tip. " Was that better than what you imagined? " she asks with a giggle.

" So much better " He chuckles, hoisting her back up in his arms to finally say what was on his mind. " Run away with me "

" What? " She whispers with wide eyes.

" I'm serious, you can open your own café in Liverpool, I can help you and in this way you can expand more while we can spend our free time together " He said with a pleading gaze, " Baba, I love you more than I can possibly describe, please think about it "

The fleeting thought of moving had crossed her mind more than once, and now - with him looking at her the way he did, with pleading eyes had made her smile and say, " I'll think about it ... but right now, you promised a second round in my bedroom "

He grins, " I thought you'd never ask "

[hermit-searching]

TMNTposting Raphael edition (Part 1):

I have a confession to make. I've been lying to you all...my fave......is actually Raphael 😂

When I was growing up watching TMNT Donatello was always my favorite turtle, mostly because I was kin assigned the smart, purple turtle when we did those playground roleplay things elementary school kids did in the early 2000s. But during my journey rewatching TMNT 87, and 03 I've grown so SO attached to Raphael it's silly.

This guy. This dude. He's probably one of the most misunderstood characters in universe (and kind of in fanon as well) besides Leonardo. Raphael, no matter which animated iteration, gets himself into trouble because of his terrible impulse control (Woah me fr), which is linked to his "anger issues" which admittedly he does kind of have, but there's so much more to unpack there than just "oh he angy".

Well, except 87 Raphael but he's special and I'll get to him later.

03 Raph definitely has the most obvious actual blind rage. Fourth episode into the entire series he goes into a blind rage and tries attacking Mikey with a metal table leg when he loses a sparring match against his orange younger brother. Except...he kinda actually doesn't. Yeah he gets mad, for sure he got really mad, but something to note about it is he actually goes into a dissociative state before he attacks Mikey, he immediately apologizes when he's lucid again, and he runs off to cool his head which leads to him meeting Casey and teaching the same lessons Splinter has told him to Casey Jones. (Honestly the besties ever. good for them). And the reason Raph gets so angry? It's not just that Mikey beats him, Mikey eggs him on the entire time. Like I mentioned in my Mikey post, 03 Mikey is an instigator, he's constantly pushing all of his brothers buttons because he thinks it's funny. He does it on purpose so he knows what's coming for him, when his brothers (usually Raph) finally snap. That's not to say that Raph should have beaten his brother with a table leg at all, because he still spends his time learning his lesson through trying to reign in Casey, but his anger was a little more, in lack of better terms, justified than some of the other Raph-Mikey blowouts we've seen (cough12cough).

03 Raph is actually just such a polite, sweet little guy. He has a heart of gold, and tries so hard to protect him family, even until his last breath. He'll help blind old ladies, he gives old clothes and blankets to the homeless, heck his instinct when he's in his last moments in Same as It Never Was was to crawl over to Leo in an attempt to protect his big brother.

This guy's biggest fear is being the one behind the Shredder mask, and hurting his family. Literally, he fears himself, and his anger. He's so, so much more than the family hot-head.

I love this guy so much. It's great watching him develop as a character and cope with his anger without having to dig into the same lesson all the time of "oooh Raph you're angry. Anger is bad Raphael. That's a no no Raphael."

Which is what bothers me so much about 2012 Raph. They spend so much time making a joke about his anger issues it's baffling it was a choice the writers made. Oh to be a fly on the wall when they made all the questionable writing choices in 2012. Like, you'll have moments where Splinter will straight up tell his son "you remind me of my evil not-brother who was the reason my wife died lolololol", and you'll have other moments where they're like "oh aha he ran away and quit the team for the 27th time. Silly Raphael." and I genuinely do not understand why they treat him like this? 2012 Raph, fundamentally, is still the same as other Raphael's. He's got the anger issues, he uses sais, he wears red, but the way they present his anger is just. Weird. They'll have him punch or swat at his brothers just for existing, and not acknowledge it at all, visual gags or whatever. And then they'll also go "ooga booga he's so bad and his anger is bad", and then force him to learn the "anger bad" lesson for the nth time....only to wipe it from his character development again.

Once again, this kid has a heart of gold. He's the turtle equivalent of a Disney Princess. He took care of a pet turtle for, presumably years. He cared for Spike a lot! And...then they just rip that away from him to create a new villain who tries to eliminate his brothers because he used to vent to his pet (being the one way Splinter told him was "healthy" with dealing with his anger). Which? Okay way to punish him for trying to deal with his anger in a way that wasn't beating the snot out of something. (also what the actual fuck was that 180 they did having Slash go "I've always admired you Leonardo"???? HUH???)

But...then you have Chompy. Arguably the only thing they have ever given 2012 Raph without violently ripping it away for laughs, or to teach him some kind of lesson. He does give Chompy back to Tokka for a moment but she gives him back realizing they're both super attached to each other and stuff. Having the moment of Raph admitting he cares about Chompy was so perfect because it finally had a moment where he felt like Raphael.

other beautiful moments from 2012 Raph:

-literally just barn arc.

-"angry Donnie you're so silly and funny and- oh wait Donnie stop-"

-when he gets smacked with a brick by 87 Raphael (sorry I still play favs)

Ok back to more lighthearted Raphposting.

Rise Raph is actually such a fun take on the character. It's so interesting to see him being put into the role usually reserved for Leonardo, being the oldest and being the leader. At first he seems pretty well put together, and different than the other Raphael but. Nope! He still rushes into danger like a kid at a busy intersection during rush hour. The difference being, he learns to reign in his impulse control ever so slightly because he's brothers are all arguably more unhinged than he is. Especially Donnie and Mikey.

His temper in Rise seems to take somewhat of an inspiration from 03, having him dissociate into a rage, though the tone of it is vastly different than 03. Which, I think is fine because Rise always had a lighter tone than 03, and 12. The intention of it is a lot different than turning 12 Ralph's issues into a silly haha, and throughout the series we see how the pressure of being the oldest weighs upon the guy, changing the tone of his issues as the series progressed.

The season finale four parter was genuinely good for Raph's character arc all things considered. Him finally cracking under the pressure only to learn his family will be there for him the way he's always been there for him is beautiful. Him being the one who sees Splinter's memories with his mom? Amazing. And the messed up thing? He sees protecting his family as his duty and purpose despite being a kid himself. Kinda like 03 Raph.

The movie also finally gave us that Leo-Raph dynamic older TMNT fans have craved from the series, but the roles are still reversed. With Raph still being responsible and wanting Leo to take things seriously while Leo does whatever he wants and has ✨impulsive sparkle✨. Getting to see Raph finally let loose and be a normal teenager again, joining in on the silly fun by the end of the movie..Mwah. thank you.

This post is getting long so I'll go into 87 Raphael in his own post. I have way too much to say about him I'm sorry..

[accultant]

Name: Iago Darlington

Nickname(s): Ia, Clover, Sunshine

Relationship Status: Single (Default) and pushing my Wylliago agenda with most of the hypotheticals here

Gender: No, thank you.

Romantic Orientation: Bisexual / demisexual

Preferred Pet Names: For themselves- They'll pretend to dislike them all and will require you go through a vetting process in order to find the Best One if you absolutely insist. They'll critique your choices with a little blush on their face. The pinker their ears get, the more they like it. Not that they would ever admit, but their absolute favorite is when Wyll half-ironically, half-affectionately calls them 'Sunshine'. They would Smite anyone else who tried to call them that. For others- genuine, sweet pet names are very, very rare. They'll teasingly call their most liked companions a nickname on occasion (Wyll gets 'Golden Boy,' Astarion gets some variation of 'bat', Puck gets 'Dandelion', etc.), but not so much in a romantic way. Unless alone. And even then, very rarely. Once a blue moon, Iago will call their partner "my love" or "my heart", very quietly, easily missed. They will not acknowledge it again.

Opinion on True Love: Rare, if it exists at all. They see True (romantic) Love as something that might exist, but surely not in their case ('What would be the odds?').

Opinion on Love at First Sight: As someone who has trained themselves to be suspicious of and afraid of everyone they meet, absolutely not. Unrealistic.

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: Not at all until after they're already romantically involved. Even then, it is rarely anything traditionally romantic. Their romance most often comes out as their display of trust- they will let down their guard with you, hold your hands, tell you secrets unprompted and give you (admittedly blunt) honesty. They see romance as a return of the unfathomable faith and trust their partner gave them. More obviously, they give gifts that they will spend hours on beforehand, making sure it is meaningful and perfect.

Ideal Physical Traits: They adore a pretty smile.  

Ideal Personality Traits: Someone patient and kind-hearted, but with honesty enough to call Iago out on their shit. They very much appreciate that even if, in the moment, they would want to bite someone's head off about it. They appreciate conviction and passion, but this is something they're less aware of. They tend to confuse their admiration for jealousy and dislike.

Unattractive Physical Traits: There's nothing super specific that comes to mind, but they don't like stern features very much. Funny to say as the queen of looking perpetually pissed off and/or bored. Displays of aggression and unkind looks set off their prey instincts sorry hotties :/

Unattractive Personality Traits: This is about to be so hypocritical. We don't have time to unpack all of that. They dislike complete apathy, cowardice, and disingenuity.

Ideal Date: Going on a nature walk (getting to know them) or breaking into The Counting House (winning over their heart).

Do They Have a Type?: Someone brave stubborn enough to win them over.

Average Relationship Length: . Depends on if we count the on-and-off situationship that lasted a few years. If not, then whoever manages to make Iago fall in love with them is with them for the end of time.

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Holding hands, taking naps together, making each other laugh.

Commitment Level: Iago is a practiced liar and cheat. When they fall in love, this falls away completely to the whole other end of the spectrum and they will be devoted to their loved one until the end of time. Good luck with that!

Opinion of Public Affection: They don't mind subtle gestures- hand-holding, a very, very occasional kiss on the cheek or hand (they are especially weak to a kiss on the knuckles...). But ultimately, they prefer privacy and will be very flustered with grand affectionate gestures. Not a total dislike, it just makes them blush quite a bit and ruins their suave demeanor !! This entertains the romantic of all time, Wyll, endlessly.

Past Relationships?: So. Hair tuck. There's this Guild leader.................. The aforementioned situationship may or may not have been with Nine-Fingers Keene in the time they worked with the Guild before leaving for the Bhaal Temple. And then a little bit after having joined the cult. Increasingly messy toxic yuri. Act III is a hilarious rom com reunion to me where Wyll finds out they've got to work with his crush's one and only ex who is the possibly most infamous crimelord in the city. There is nothing normal about Iago.

Writer’s Note: A lot of this is almost completely unknown to Iago themselves and requires many, many realizations in the process of falling in love. Iago spent so long not even entertaining the idea that they would have A Life at all- love was so beyond what they could have ever imagined or hoped for for themselves. It was simply not something they thought possible for a very long time. When they start to fall for someone, it takes them completely by surprise (and they think they might've fallen ill...). I also love the idea that this feeling is somewhat mutual with Wyll, who likely has such an idealized, beautiful, courtly romance in his mind and is absolutely appalled to find he's somehow head over heels for this freak (HE WOULD NEVER ADMIT THIS. but all the companions are so thinking it....... Like really?? That one???).

Tagged by @bloodtwin

Tagging YOU THERE!!!!!!!!!! YES, YOU!!!!!!!

[joandfriedrich]

the March sisters as Greek goddesses? (Beth is Hestia and no one can change my mind)

You just combined of my favorite things together and I am stoked! Also, sorry it took a little while, I wanted to be as accurate as I could in my choices.

Marmee- I am adding her just because, and she would be Rhea, Goddess of the Female Fertility. She is also was the goddess of motherhood and femininity, and was the mother to the Olympians. Marmee has been considered one of literature's best mother figures and Rhea seems to be the best match for her.

Meg- My instinct is to go to Hera, Goddess of Marriage and Women. Meg embraced her femininity, had longed to be married and have children, and actually wanted it from an early age compared to her sisters who never married (Beth), didn't want to (Jo), or marry for wrong reasons (Amy).

Jo- I am sure many people would say ether Athena or Artemis (mostly, I am sure due to their statuses of being unmarried/virgin goddesses) but really, she is closer to Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry. According to Hesiod, she was the leader of the muses, but also the most assertive, which that is certainly Jo, and her only offspring were two boys, Orpheus and Linus, much like Jo's only children were two boys, Rob and Teddy.

Beth- I agree with you 100%! For those that may not know, Hestia is Goddess of the Hearth, Family, and Home. She is said to be a pretty nice goddess, described as being pure and peaceful, and never married, which ties in my headcanon of Beth being aro-ace. There isn't too many myths about her, but it appeared that there wasn't a god or goddess in all of the Pantheon that had disliked her, which is very true with ho everyone viewed Beth.

Amy- This might be a shock to some people, but her goddess would be Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. As an adult, she displayed her newfound wisdom brilliantly especially to Laurie in Europe, which helped him avoid making a big mistake, and had greatly matured from her childhood into adulthood. Athena is also the goddess of Creativity and was known as a patroness of the arts, which fits the rather artistic Amy.

BONUS: THE MEN

Mr. March- After some digging, I thought that the best fit is Hymenaios, God of Marriage Ceremonies. Given that Mr. March is a pastor who had served as a pastor for his own daughters' weddings (Meg confirmed, and Jo headcanoned), it feels pretty apt that he'd be this god, though not much else is known about this god.

John- I was not expecting to pair John with Hermes, God of Travelers, but it works. Hermes' main job was a messenger for the gods and goddesses, but has also been said to be the first teacher to the mortals, teaching them letters, science, and how to use their intellect, which makes in a way, a tutor, just like one Mr. Brooke.

Friedrich- Admittedly, this one was the toughest one, but the one I choose was someone I least expected, Dionysus, God of Wine and Festivities. Friedrich has always been known to be a easy going and fun man, but just like the god, he was also incredibly kind and helpful to his fellow men. One of Dionysis' titles was known as the "protector of misfits" as he had been an outsider in the Pantheon, which is very similar to Friedrich being seen as an outsider due to being a German in America.

Laurie- This is another one that was super easy to think of, Apollo, God of Music. A little fun fact is that Apollo was also the god of prophecy, which I couldn't help but to think about that scene in the book where Laurie ponders over the idea of Jo resembling the thorny red rose and Amy the thorn-free white rose, certain that it must mean something, which in the end it did.

How do you guys think I did? Is there any other god or goddess you'd think could work?

[sb-asks]

After a few more hours, she decided to go visit the kid once more. Plus she had nothing to do. She hums softly as she spots the sticky note to read it. She frowned slightly at the word 'No'. "Hm, might be a rebellious type." She thought to herself as she wrote down her answer. "I'm Maria. Maria "Morningstar". Director of Decommissioning. Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking, who are the one's taking care of ya.?" She wrote then gave a small smiley face. "Ps. You rebellious little twink" She chuckles to herself when she wrote out the last words.

She thought about go asking Bright about SB, but her laziness gnawed on her so she decided to stay in her office and lie down while she still can to get away from the paperwork she know will come by the corner.

OOC: Very sorry I gave it to ya at 5 am, I'm from a country right across the globe so when I sent it to you, it was 5 pm. :') Oh and I finished my writing about Dr. Maria, if you want it I can give it to ya ^v^

PS. Sorry if I type too much-

OOC: That’s what I figured that was probably the case lol, no worries! And yes, I will be needing that writing about Dr. Maria :))

It’s totally fine btw to write a lot, plus, I love reading longer stuff and getting to reply! :> (I also write too much it’s cool 😭)

Guys did I use whom right please

———————————————————————————————————————

SB hadn't heard her approaching their chamber this time, as they had fallen fast asleep with their precious stuffed bunny on the carpeted floor watching TV waiting to hear a response. They were woken, however, by sounds at the door similar to the ones they heard not a few hours ago. They listened for something else but were left with silence.

SB got up and took a big (albeit sleepy) stretch before going over to the door again, dragging the bunny along with them. It took a few tries to open the heavy metal door, but SB was determined and managed to pry it open, ears perking in excitement when they found the yellow note stuck around their height. The longer this note thing went on, the less wary SB became, seeing whoever this must be as more of a pen pal than a threat, despite their better instincts.

Sitting back in the middle of the room, they read the note to themself. Maria Morningstar…they liked that name, though it rang a few bells. They pondered it for a few seconds before finally writing down:

“Like the weapon??”

Beside it they decided to draw up a rough sketch of what they were talking about, just to make sure she knew.

Funnily enough, SB was only vaguely aware of what a decommissioner was but was also admittedly too sleepy-brained to think about it too hard. They simply thought ‘Cool. Job.’

SB read and answered each question one by one like some sort of multiple choice quiz. They had to think for a bit on the caretaker question, remembering that they had had quite a few caretakers but forgetting for a second which ones were then and which ones were now. Of course, the first names that came to mind were Dr. Foal and Dr. Erwin, whom they quite liked. They almost wrote down Dr. Bright and Infiho as well, but that would take much too long to explain on a sticky note. So they (correctly, this time) wrote Foal and Erwin’s names down, followed by a quick:

“They’re very nice :)”

Which was easy to say for those two, but less-so for other staff, but they didn’t think on that too long because reading the postscript, they were distracted from their thought process by a laugh. They had been called many things. ‘Twink’ was not one of them. Plus, they were almost infamous for their rebelliousness nature mostly (if we exclude the violent nature of them), and the only ones who could properly manage them were their past and present caretakers.

Nevertheless, they sleepily stuck the sticky note back on the door, admittedly unsure of where they put it, before heading back to go to sleep again waiting alongside their bunny for their new pen pal.

[clochanamarc]

u get another teaser drabble for what's to come in 2024 for aisling and the squad, but before i dive into it: this year is a whole JOURNEY, yk? a real saga of so many parts for aisling and the family and ur muses too (if u want!! bc i very much want ye to feel like u can be involved!) but this is like. i've been so excited abt this for so long, and that's all i wanna say atm, but i will be making a post to outline stuff if y'all wanna plot smth involved w this year's overall arc!

she's never driven as fast as this in her life. rubber burning, tires defying every natural law of physics as they power through puddles and thin air and loose gravel to bring her to the blooming flower of smoke that protrudes from the familiar block. the police have already set up the tape, not for a crime scene but rather to keep the others safe, when she skids to a halt next to them, abandoning the keys in the ignition, door open, knowing nobody would be stupid enough to steal it tonight.

" will! " she's racing forward, and the officer instinctively lifts a hand. " where are they?! "

" aisling-- "

" where?! " she's about to move past him, but he plants a hand on her shoulder with admittedly lacking wisdom. adrenaline and terror and trauma collide. she catches his wrist, twists it down and away from her arm, and uses a swirl of energy to pin him down against the bonnet of a police car.

" wait! dammit, wait, wait, wait! " he's yelling, his free hand waving out frantically, and it takes a second for her to grasp that he isn't speaking to her, but to the alarmed back-up who take positions and size her up, a hair away from a chaotic choice. " she's alright! she's fine, ais, you're okay, i'm sorry, let me explain-- "

" where the hell are they?! " she's releasing him, brushing past the others like flies, when she sees a familiar face emerging from the rubble of the diner. " woo-- "

" alright, let's all just take a second... jones, we found seven of the kids. they're fine, they're unharmed. well... eli dislocated an arm, but-- "

" i have eight children. "

" ... you still do, yes. but aisling, we... we need to talk about that-- "

" what... " she's not sure which way is up anymore. jimmy has an arm outstretched, but her gaze is fixed on the destruction around them. blackened bricks. scorched rubble. veins of darkness that spiral across the tarmac. metal lampposts twisted and contorted. her fingertips catch on a piece of lightly melted tinsel, flames reflecting against the cheap gleam of the plastic. " who's missing? " nobody answers her. nobody wants to say it. her hands curl into tight fists, and she turns, eyes filled with tears of heartbreak and rage and disbelief. " who did he take, woo? "

" well... that's just it, jones. aisling... mister kelly was not responsible for this. they did. they fled shortly after, and... there's something else you should know. "

" you're not making any sense; you mean one of my kids did this? one of my kids melted concrete and levelled a four storey building? "

" please. aisling-- "

" aisling. " the voice alone drives her stomach into the ground. he's standing in the hazy smoke, soot and dust staining the holy collar, black shirt crumpled from the madness. oisín. the boy who forgot. the man who remembers. the lost-and-found brother who opens out his arms, and places her in a gentle, feather-light embrace. " i need you to listen now... "

" no. " her voice betrays the full measure of fear and devastation that besieges her heart. but he won't let her pull away; he holds her tighter, and places a gentle hand on the back of her head, voice thick with tears.

" he's gone, ais. i'm sorry-- "

" shut up, shut up, don't you-- oisín, please, please-- "

" he's dead. "

she's crying, and her legs give out beneath her, but he holds her upright, forcing her to bear it all. " don't do this- "

but he has to.

and so he does.

" stanley's dead. "

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for just trying to help my kids succeed?

I (82M) am the father of 3 (40M, 30sM, 30sF) children, as well as their brother (50sM if I remember right). I’ve done everything in my power to make sure my children have been given everything in life. They’re more than just well-taken care of, they’re spoiled beyond measure. It disappoints me greatly that none of them have figured out how to help themselves.

Around a year ago, my eldest son (40M, not 50sM) attempted to boot me out of my own company. Of course, his attempt failed because he’s an idiot, but this kicked off an unfortunate chain of events. As he kept coming after me, threatening to take my down, I had no choice but to blackmail him into submission.

For business reasons, I was placed in a position where I was forced to choose a successor, someone to take over the company after me. Of course, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, so the question of a successor seems relatively pointless to me. I decided to use the opportunity to get my daughter involved with the company, promising her the position.

This fell through, of course, due to her repeatedly demonstrating to me that she was too emotional to truly handle it. The nail in the coffin was when she begged me not to scapegoat her husband for a company scandal.

I instead chose my eldest son, who of course was still blackmailed into obedience, as the scapegoat. I explained to him, quite reasonably, that he never could have been my successor anyways, as he lacked killer instinct. Truthfully, this was more a sacrifice on my part anyways, getting my own beloved son sent to prison.

He ended up surprising me, however, by publicly accusing me of being behind the company scandal. I was admittedly impressed by his show of strength, but quickly grew disappointed as he repeatedly demonstrated that he couldn’t actually take me out. It seems like he’s grown too used to shooting himself in the foot to aim for me.

This all came to a head at my ex-wife’s wedding. Another company was offering to acquire mine. This seemed a good deal to me, so I entered into talks behind my children’s backs. I knew they’d never let me sell the company because they’d grown too attached to the idea that one day I’d let one of them take it over.

The three of them ended up finding out about my plan, so they conspired against me to not only stop the deal but oust me from my own company. Luckily, I was notified in advance by my daughter’s husband, so when my children arrived I was ready. I ousted them from the company and told them to stop riding on the coattails of my success like the failures they are.

Today is my 82nd birthday. My children have not talked to me in months. I feel older and more alone than I’ve ever felt and it scares me. A part of me wonders if this is my fault.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Bound, Part 10

Previous part

Marinette laid back in bed, one arm under her head, the other hand lightly twirling her red string around her finger, toying with the line.

It didn’t hurt, not when she had no intentions of harming it – even as she thought that, a small twinge of pain curled its way around her heart, as if in warning – and, honestly, it functioned rather like a regular string. She wondered, idly, if she could knit with it.

Her eyes followed it, to where it slipped out the window and continued on, westward, off into the horizon.

She sighed and slipped out of bed.

~

Life got easier with time. Moving, forcing himself to go about the usual routines, got easier.

It still sucked, don’t get him wrong. He still found himself groaning every time he opened his eyes in the morning, but he got used to the feeling. Learned to continue doing things despite it. After all, life was going to continue whether or not he participated in it, and he would have been foolish to give up the opportunities he was afforded (quite literally ‘afforded’, for he had the luxury of having rich parents).

Still, he glared at his accounting homework like it had personally walked up and stabbed him in the chest. Not even the shitty coffee he had gotten from the college cafe and the shade provided by the tree he had opted to laze under would save the homework sheets from his wrath. No, the thing saving them was that he needed them to pass, and even then they were on thin ice that would surely melt the moment he would have to brave the sun.

But his attention was stolen away from his homework – admittedly, not hard, considering accounting was duller than rocks – when his latent bat instincts began to register a person’s gaze.

He blinked a few times and looked around. It wasn’t hard to notice her, not even when there were a good hundred students out and about, heading to their classes. Not because there was particularly anything interesting about her – outside of, perhaps, her choice to wear a turtleneck on such a hot day. She was pretty but not so much so that he would have given much more than a passing glance and a thought along the lines of ‘nice’.

But he was pretty sure he had seen her somewhere before. In passing, maybe, or in a dream.

Or she was probably just in one of his classes.

Tim gave an attempt at a smile as she got closer. “Hey.”

She glanced him up and down, bright blue eyes just barely narrowed in something he could swear was judgment. He fought the urge to try and hide behind his homework.

Her eyes flicked down to her hand, and then traveled along a line he couldn’t really make out or understand, until she found his own hand.

A smile curled over her lips, and he thought it had to be one of the most convincing lies he had ever seen, but he had been trained to be a bat, and he could see the anger lurking just behind her expression.

He squared his shoulders a little, and he watched her eyes narrow even more.

But then she giggled, her head just barely tilting to the side. “Hi! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m your soulmate!” She chirped in accented English.

His mouth dropped open. His brain stuttered for a moment, and he ran through the past several moments in his mind, trying to figure out how exactly she could have known that they were soulmates. And, if she were faking it, how she could have known that he had a soulmate in the first place.

And then he registered a fist flying towards his face.

Ah, yeah, that checks out, he thought dully.

He had just enough time to brace himself mentally for the hit.

Which allowed him to notice the way that she unset her jaw just after it connected, the way pain flared across his knuckles, the way she seemed genuinely calmed by the single punch.

“Fucking asshole,” she hissed in French, shaking her hand out.

He almost laughed, looking down at the faint red decorating the back of his own hand.

And then he looked up at her.

“Right back at you,” he said, the French rolling off his tongue easily.

She blinked. “You can speak –?”

He tackled her to the ground.

And maybe they really were soulmates, he thought bitterly as he raised his fist behind his head. Not because he could feel the ground scraping against his own back, but because they had both decided to use distraction to get the upper hand.

Her nose cracked under his hand and he grimaced a little as his own broke in return, blinking away the tears that had beaded at the corners of his eyes to find her lips pressed into a thin line. But not a severe one, it was the kind of expression someone made when they were trying not to laugh.

“Did you forget?” She teased, looking very smug for someone pinned to the ground, their hair splayed in the grass and blood spilling from their nose.

He scoffed. “Maybe I just wanted to check.”

“Oh,” she said, tipping her head to the side with a smirk still in place. “Well, I guess I can help you with that.”

She slipped her legs from between his and planted both of her feet against his stomach, and then kicked out, forcing him off of her.

He stumbled backwards a few steps before catching himself against the tree.

He watched on, quietly horrified, as his coffee toppled over. Spilling itself directly onto his abandoned homework. Just one more insult from the universe that had decided that this was his soulmate.

She rolled back, to her feet, and swiped a hand over her mouth, that terribly pleased expression still in place.

Tim raised his fists, this time to a defensive position, narrowing his eyes. “Lets see if all those fights you got in back in the day were worth it, huh?”

She laughed. “What’d you say before? ‘Right back at you’. Hope you can take a few punches.”

“Me too. I mean, it would be kind of lame to lose to the person who ruined my life, don’t you think?”

“I ruined your life?” She scoffed. “I couldn’t even go to school because of your bullshit.”

Marinette threw an easy-to-dodge kick his way. More of a test than a real attack.

He grabbed her leg and pulled, forcing her off-balance so he could slug her while she was distracted.

“Yeah? Well you didn’t seem to mind fights that much, now, did you? Definitely don’t now.”

“I only did that because! Of! You!” She punctuated the last three words with a string of jabs aimed for his face.

He wasn’t sure if he was laughing because they were easy to block or because of the pure hilarity of what she was saying. His smile dropped when he only just managed to lower his guard in time to block the sucker punch she aimed his way. “Then that’s just fucking childish –” He aimed a kick for her knee. “– now, isn’t it?”

For just a second, she gritted her jaw slightly tighter (not because of the attempt to kick in her knee, he had missed, unfortunately), and he knew that he had gotten to her a little.

And so he dug in deeper. “What? Did you go ‘oh, well, if you’re going to get hurt then I’m gonna do it soooooo much better than you’?”

She barely dodged his right hook.

“Don’t fucking talk about things you don’t understand.”

“I’m sure I understand a lot more than you, Little Miss Dropout.”

The false amusement began to bleed out of her, leaving her expression looking remarkably dark.

Anger that was only mostly his hummed under his skin, curling his fingers and making him see red.

“And don’t act like you’re the only one that had it rough. You’re the reason that I lost the only people that I ever cared about.”

“Aw,” she cooed. “Have you ever considered the fact that, maybe, people leave you because you’re a terrible person?”

A tiny pang of pain jolted his chest, and he knew she felt it too. But she just smiled wider, something purely cruel curling her lips now.

She used the moment to punch him in the gut in a literal way, too.

And the situation only devolved from there. No longer were there choreographed moves, nor carefully constructed verbal barbs. No, now they were just rolling around on the ground, hitting and punching and scratching anything they could reach, cursing each other out in their native tongues. He tasted blood, and he was happy to spit it in her face.

Some vague part of him knew that they had an audience. The people that had been walking from class to class hadn’t disappeared just because he had stopped paying attention to them. There were cameras pointed in their direction, people murmuring, a group placing bets, some random French major translating everything they were saying in real time, a couple cheering whenever they got a good hit in or gasping whenever a new piece of dirt was revealed…

But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

They continued throwing everything they could at each other until the campus police physically dragged them apart. And, even then, Tim heavily considered breaking away from them to get at her again. From the anger painting her face red, he figured she might even help him fight off the security guards if that meant she would get the opportunity to throw another punch or two.

But then, strangely, all of it faded. She settled in the arms of the security guard, everything bleeding out of her expression until she was left with pure boredom. And it wasn’t even a front, he couldn’t feel anything from her other than pain.

He started to calm as well, if only because he was so confused.

The guards, hesitantly, let them go. Their hands were still out, prepared to catch them if they ran at each other again…

Marinette giggled and clapped her hands together so hard that Tim could feel it through their bond. From the look in her eyes, he doubted it was unintentional.

“Now that that is out of the way, Mr. Soulmate, what would you say to a little chat?”

~

Marinette ignored the wary expression her soulmate – Tim, he had said his name was – kept giving her out of the corner of his eyes.

A group of about seven or so was trailing after them like ducklings, not so subtly listening in as if the coffee order she was giving the on campus cafe was the most interesting thing that could ever exist, clearly wanting more of a show.

A lot of people were watching them, honestly. Maybe it was because every security guard in the area was hovering around them, apparently still waiting for them to start up their fight again. Maybe it was because both of them looked as if they had gone up against a tractor and lost terribly.

It didn’t really matter why, though. She could never let down the people watching her.

She grinned at Tim behind her bloody tissue. “Can I use your ID card for a discount?”

His head jerked to look at her fully. “What?”

“You’re not going to make the girl pay, are you?” She asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.

His eye twitched. “Normally, no, but to be fair most of the time they don’t attack me out of nowhere before they ask me for free drinks.”

“It’s free?” She asked, lighting up as she handed off his ID to the cashier, who looked like he wouldn’t care if the totally real tractor that they had lost a fight to came after him as well.

He sputtered and started frantically patting his pockets.

It was too late, however, because the cashier rang it up and handed him back his card. They didn’t even blink. Were they okay?

Tim wasn’t. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He watched on, depressed, as the drink was set on the counter.

“Just remember: you started it,” she said, smiling and bringing the straw to her lips.

His annoyance made the otherwise shitty coffee taste amazing.

They walked  for a while, until the people following them lost interest – or, in the security guards’ case, until they were no longer on the hook for them because neither were all that interested in pressing charges and they only really had jurisdiction on campus. And then for a while longer. All in silence.

Tim finally snapped. “Alright, I’ll bite, what did you want to talk about?”

She smiled, slurping at her drink even though she was very sure at this point that there was nothing left. She tossed it into a nearby trashcan before turning to walk in front of him, lacing her hands behind her back as they walked along.

“What? You haven’t guessed yet? Aren’t you college types supposed to be smart? You sure implied it earlier.”

He set his jaw. “I’m so sorry for implying you were dumb. I should have said it outright: I got through school despite your attempts, so if you failed that’s on you.”

She took a deep breath in to keep herself calm. That was fair, she knew, it wasn’t like she was being particularly kind to him, either, but she still felt an intense need to make his nose match hers. “Fine. I’ll spell it out for you. How do you think I knew it was you?”

He gave her a mildly confused look.

“I mean, neither of us have gotten hurt today, right? Excluding the fight, I mean. How do you think I figured out we were soulmates?”

Realization flickered behind his eyes and his gaze sharpened. “I was wondering about that.”

“Sure you were,” she said lightly, making sure to keep her tone perfectly condescending. Whether or not she believed him didn’t matter, just that he thought she didn’t.

Indeed, he was back to glowering.

She grinned, glancing around to make sure no one was around. It was the middle of the day, just after the usual lunch rush, so the streets were blissfully empty other than them two.

“This is going to be the part that you’re going to have the most trouble accepting, I think.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Magic is real.”

“... go back to stalling,” he said, giving her a look that screamed that he thought she was insane.

Maybe she was, but that wouldn’t have been her fault, now, would it?

She snorted at him. And then she stopped cold, almost making him bump into her.

She looked him up and down. Like her, the red string was a mess where it curled around him. But, unlike her, it focused on his hands and feet, wrapping around them like a mess of bangles. He looked rather like a marionette on strings. Though they were still loosely wrapped, not digging into him like hers did.

Marinette stared at the string between them for a moment before grabbing ahold of it and pulling.

It was just as terrible as she remembered. It was like suffocating, like purposefully tying a noose around her neck and pulling tight, and she wanted nothing more than to let go. But she didn’t. She continued playing tug of war with it, pulling and pulling until her vision began to black out at the edges. The pain sent Tim crashing to his knees, and it was only because she was prepared for it that she didn’t follow after him.

He made a strangled sound, not quite a scream, and she found herself mildly impressed by how well he was managing.

She let go.

He collapsed the rest of the way, only just barely throwing his hands in front of his face in time to shield it from the concrete.

“What… what was that?” He hissed once he had managed to catch his breath enough to do so.

“That is the thing that is linking us together,” she said, tugging at her turtleneck to show off the deep indentations in her skin. She pointed to the ones now curling around his wrists. “The Red String.”

He stared down at the lines in his skin, his expression blank. She gave him a moment, resting her hands on her hips as she peered down at him.

And then she continued onto the reason she had traveled across the sea to meet him: “Ours is all messed up – a mistake – and I want to destroy it.”

His head jerked up to look at her. Emotions that weren’t her own knotted themselves in her chest, tugging at her heartstrings. But she was kind of done with strings, to be honest, so she ignored the fact that she knew he was surely hurt if his emotions were spilling over into her…

Because she was too busy eyeing up the Red String of Fate.

It was still curled, loosely, around her index finger, from when she had grabbed it, winding its way up it like her yoyo once had before continuing on to Tim.

Red was the color of love. But it was also the color of warning signs, of blood, of hatred.

She stuck the hand out to shake. “Stick around each other long enough to get rid of this stupid thing binding us together so we can move on with our lives?”

He looked down at it. Something flickered behind his expression.

For a moment, she thought he might say no, just to spite her.

And then he gave her a smile, his teeth still stained red.

They shook on it.

~~~

Next part

@laurcad123

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing Prompts Day 1

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit.

***

"So how do you want me to fuck you?"

***

Tim was crawling under the bed in his old room in the Manor, looking for an external hard drive he'd misplaced ages ago, when the door slammed open and then slammed shut again with just as much vigor. He nearly hit his head on the bedframe, but managed to keep that much dignity before slowly rising to his feet.

"Damian?" It had been a long time since they were at each others' throats as a matter of course, but the instinct to view Damian with caution remained. Admittedly, that was due to other reasons now rather than out of fear for his life.

Damian nodded at him in acknowledgement, eyebrows furrowed. "Drake."

Tim stepped closer as he realized that what he'd first interpreted as anger (teeth gritted, muscle jumping at the hinge of Damian’s jaw, redness crawling up his neck and into his cheeks) looked like a different emotion altogether. He hadn't recognized it at first because Damian so rarely allowed himself to appear embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"I—I require something of you." Tim gave him a dubious look in automatic offense, and Damian hastily changed tactics. "I request something of you. I have a burden which must be shed and I believe you are an tolerable associate to help me do so."

Tim moved closer still, enough to reach out and touch Damian, except that the other's clear wariness kept him from making any sort of gesture. "Sure, you know I'm happy to assist.” A lie, but a useful one until the truth needed to be spoken. “What's the problem?"

Damian squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze somewhere over Tim's left shoulder. "I have yet to engage in sexual relations with anyone. I am asking you to take care of the problem."

Tim froze. He didn't kid himself that he'd heard wrong, because his brain couldn't have come up with a more inconceivable combination of words no matter what the circumstances. His initial, inconsequential response was to think, Well, that's several suspicions I had confirmed, in one fell swoop.

This might explain some stuff. Damian had been acting weird for a few weeks now.

First came the drone. Or rather, Damian dropping the drone in front of Tim’s face onto the desk where Tim was working in the Cave.

“May I help you?” Tim had drawled, not that he actually wanted to.

“I would like to request your expertise.”

Tim had whipped his head around to stare at Damian in shock. “You. You what?”

Damian must have known how bizarre it was for him to ask for any help whatsoever from one of his least favorite people, but he met Tim’s gaze with nothing but defiance on his face. “I would appreciate your help in repairing the broken traces on a circuit board in this drone. I could do it, of course, but I have other demands on my time.”

Tim, stunned into wordless compliance, had pulled the drone closer and given him a nod. Damian nodded back in acknowledgement, turned on his heel, and left without further ado.

So that had been strange.

But then came the weapons smuggling case.

It was unusual for Jason to ask for assistance from any of them with his cases. Damian seemed an odd choice for helper as well, although the two shared a great deal of experiences, if at disparate times. Still, Tim hadn't thought about it much until Damian sent him a folder of crime scene photos from a recent weapons deal gone wrong, along with notes on the leads he'd found.

The accompanying message had read, Your help in examining the scene for further clues would be useful.

Intrigue didn't prevent Tim from texting Jason to be sure the request had actually come from Damian. It was weird enough to be suspect. But when he got confirmation, the case had instantly sucked him in. It was a multi-pronged operation with both northern and southern arteries, its heart in Gotham, and exactly the sort of conundrum guaranteed to get Tim’s full attention.

This current situation was definitely a step up on the Damian Weirdness Scale.

Tim’s heart seemed to have split itself into multiple pieces and was now pulsing madly in his throat, his ears, his palms. His dick, too, because God forbid he make anything easy on himself. 

Damian must have interpreted his shock as a desire to be persuaded, because he continued at a rate of speed that suggested the words were being forcibly shoved through his teeth. "It's rapidly becoming a liability. I don't want to go pick someone up anonymously when Father will almost certainly find out, because he manages to find out everything humiliating. Anyone else whom I might consider is currently partnered in a monogamous relationship. You are unattached at the moment—unless you have been keeping the truth a secret even my detective skills are unable to uncover, which is of course impossible. And judging by some indiscreet things your former partners have said in the past, you are at least moderately competent in these matters. You are a logical choice for my sexual denouement." He darted a sideways glance at Tim's face, and just as quickly redirected his gaze out the window as his cheeks blazed a darker shade of crimson. "I would consider it a satisfactory training exercise if you were my sparring partner."

"What kind of sex are you picturing exactly where I'm your sparring partner?!" Tim demanded before he could think better of it, then shook the resulting images away from his brain and started over. It would be irresponsible to ignore all the signs that Damian was highly uncomfortable, the red flags ranging from defensive anger to having foregone contractions. "Damian, I'm flattered, but—you're only twenty. What do you mean, a liability? It's not that big of a deal. It's not like you're being sent on honeypot missions, right? Please say no." Damian wordlessly shook his head. "Okay, so . . . what's the rush?"

At that, Damian met his gaze with sheer fury. "The rush is that I want to. Now are you going to help me, or not?"

Tim glared back, an answering surge of rage coming to his sanity’s rescue. Of all the people to actually consider fucking, Damian had to be one of the worst prospects. He'd probably stab Tim if he felt like his technique wasn't up to par. “Absolutely the fuck not. Now get out of my way.”

And he stalked out, hoping that Bruce hadn't replaced the bugs in the hallway lately.

***

After making his demands, Damian retreated into ignoring Tim when at all possible and speaking like Mr. Darcy but with a bigger stick up his ass when it wasn’t. It made things kind of weird with the single case they shared, but Tim decided it was a relief to have everything else back to normal.

The problem was, now he was noticing Damian.

He seemed to have settled into his adult height, having outstripped Tim a good five inches ago. (No, Tim wasn’t bitter. At all.) His newly broad frame boasted muscles nearly as thick as Jason's but lithe and flexible as Dick’s. And those eyes. It would’ve been hard for anyone attracted to men not to notice, but somehow Tim had managed until Damian forcibly brought the matter to his attention.

He was trying not to stare at Damian changing the tires on his motorcycle one night after patrol when his desk chair spun in place with a sudden well-placed kick from Stephanie. He put his feet down in time to face her scowl. 

“Oh my God, Tim, are you listening to a single word I’m saying?” she demanded.

“No,” he replied without thinking, then ran the past several minutes back and amended, “Sort of. When did Babs want to have us over for movie night?”

Appeased, Stephanie started to reiterate the plan. Behind her, Damian’s face relaxed into an almost-smile as Alfred the cat hopped on his lap and yowled plaintively. 

“How did you get down here?” he asked, soft-voiced, caressing Alfred’s head. The cat started purring loudly enough for Tim to hear from his seat. “And don’t bother complaining to me. You’ve got plenty of food, where it’s supposed to be.”

Tim swallowed, watching Damian’s hand move down Alfred’s spine, gentle as always when it came to his pets.

“Seriously.” He jerked his gaze back to Stephanie to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re obviously exhausted. Please go home and get some sleep so we can have a conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She started toward the showers, and he called, “Sorry!” after her because that had been an asshole move, even though he hadn’t meant to do it.

Involuntarily, Tim looked at Damian again, only this time Damian looked straight back. Bruce was gone on Justice League business, so it was just the two of them now.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim found his words. “Come here.”

To his surprise, Damian actually rose to his feet and approached, though he stopped a good three feet away. His face was blank, but his fingers tightened into fists against his thighs.

Tim gulped against a sudden dryness in his mouth because it had been a while and the baby had grown up really fucking hot. He idly wondered what it would be like to grab those wide shoulders and pull him close. Fortunately his voice came out unruffled, even though it sounded far away. “I’ve been thinking. Since the last time we talked. Do you still want me to . . . to do what you said?” “Yes,” Damian said, almost before he finished speaking. His back had straightened to military attention.

“Okay.” Tim stood up and rubbed suddenly damp palms down his thighs, ignoring the fact that his costume was designed to repel wetness so it wasn't really an effective gesture. At least it spread the sweat out a little. “Why don’t you give me a head start and then come over to the Nest tonight? Unless you’re too tired.”

Damian gave him a jerky nod, a single bounce on his toes giving away his nerves. “That would be fine.”

“Great.” Tim had to resist the urge to wave or something equally dorky. “Uh. Yeah. See you there.” He turned on his heel and retreated as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

True to his word, Damian gave Tim plenty of time to shower, head home, and eat before he knocked at his front door like a civilized human being. When he swung the door open, Tim spotted telltale wetness around the edges of his hair that meant Damian had showered before coming over, too.

"Come in," he invited, then shut the door and re-armed the security system while Damian kicked off his shoes. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

Damian scoffed. "I see no reason to delay the main event with meaningless niceties."

Tim rolled his eyes as he started to lead the way to his bedroom. "Don't be a brat. I prefer to at least display a modicum of social skills with my partners. Courtesy begins outside the bedroom, and should extend into it too."

"Spare me the lecture. I'm here for a physical act, not instruction in other types of human relations."

Tim spun to face him at the bedroom door, extending his arm to block it when Damian would have continued past him. He narrowed his eyes and jabbed Damian in the chest with his other hand, ignoring his look of outrage. "Excuse me. This is part of the physical act for me. I'm sure lots of people are different, but I can't enjoy getting naked unless I know I'm with someone who bothers showing me the bare minimum of respect when we're both fully dressed. Is that gonna be you, or am I kicking you out now so I can get some of the sleep I need way more than I need sex?"

Damian hesitated, and Tim tried to look bored with the delay. Finally, Damian swallowed, hard enough for his Adam's apple to bob visibly, and dropped his gaze. "I apologize. I recognize that you're doing me a favor. I’m uncertain of my skill set in this arena."

Tim allowed his surprise to show on his face. "Thanks. For being honest with me, I mean." That much wasn't easy for anyone in the family. Damian really had been growing up, in more ways than one.

Damian nodded in acknowledgement. Tim let his arm drop, and Damian walked past him into the bedroom, sitting at the foot of the unmade bed with his legs close together, hands folded. Tim closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked the windows too, just in case anyone got the bright idea to drop in uninvited. Turning back, he saw Damian hadn't moved an inch, but was watching Tim with singleminded focus.

Something needy and grasping lurched in the pit of his stomach. He shoved it away, and immediately felt guilty he had to do so when Damian's hands tightened on each other till the knuckles went pale.

"Hey." He knelt at Damian's feet, put his hands over where Damian's were knotted together. "You wanna stop now? If you're having second thoughts—"

Damian flipped his hands, quick as thought, and held Tim's in a loose grip. "I am not. I simply do not know what to do. In my minimal previous experience, we engaged in the precursors to this sort of activity without any previous discussion or planning, so this type of interaction is outside the scope of my experience."

Tim folded his lips in tight, considering. It was hard not to overthink this, to ask all the questions whirling in his head that he just couldn't help having, but none of the answers were things he was entitled to know. Damian had asked for a favor, and no matter what standards Tim had for courtesy, he was no stranger to casual hook-ups. This was a transaction between acquaintances. Coworkers? Sort-of friends. 

"Okay. Let's start with this, then. What are you already comfortable with? What have you done before that you liked?" He shrugged. "How do you want me to fuck you? That's figurative 'fuck,' by the way, penetration isn't necessary for sex to happen."

"I know that." Damian gave him a withering glare, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "I enjoyed kissing. Both on the mouth and elsewhere. I enjoyed being touched anywhere that isn't ticklish, like the bottoms of my feet. I enjoyed frottage. I haven't done much more besides."

Tim tried not to sound as incredibly turned on as he was at the moment and likely failed miserably. "Anything you didn't like?" God, the mental image of Damian grinding against someone—probably Jon but who knew—until he came was enough to make him lightheaded. 

"I am not comfortable . . . being penetrated." The color in his face was bright enough to glow in the dark at this, but he pressed on. "Either by myself or anyone else. Anything else, for that matter." His lashes lowered as he stared at Tim's hands, still laid quiescent under his own. "If you change your mind, knowing that, I will understand."

Tim freed his hands so he could rub Damian's thighs, watching closely for any reaction. The pulse point in his neck beat a little faster, and his pupils dilated a bit, but those both seemed positive. "Not at all. There's a lot left on the menu if that's the only no you have. Of course, you'll probably find out you have other limits as you try more stuff, but we'll keep it basic tonight. Are you okay with doing the penetrating? Or trying it out?"

Damian nodded, fast and eager. "I would be willing to try."

Tim suppressed his smile, in case Damian thought he was laughing at him. Honestly, that was pretty cute. Not a term he was used to applying to Damian, but this night was already full of surprises so why not one more? "We can try, then. How's your stamina?"

One big shoulder jerked up. "Typical for one of my experience and age."

So probably about five minutes, max. "No worries. That just means your recovery time is great, too." Tim slid his hands up again, and this time skimmed one higher so he was palming Damian's obvious erection. It felt like he'd grown up proportionate everywhere, which was nice. “What about condoms? It’s been more than six months for me and we both have Bruce’s health screenings to deal with so . . . is it okay if we go without?” 

Damian shrugged with obviously faked casualness. “I don’t believe anything could get past Father’s tests. It’s all right with me.”

“Great.” Tim fiddled with his pants button. "Why don't I blow you so we can make you come right away, and then we can work our way up to the rest?"

Damian's voice came out breathy. "That would be acceptable."

Tim couldn't keep himself from giving him a Robin grin, sharp edged and cocky, as he opened Damian’s pants and pulled them and his underwear out of the way. Damian's eyes widened with shock as Tim closed his fingers around his dick. Uncut and thick and fucking gorgeous, already dark with arousal. Tim's mouth was watering at the thought of sucking it. "Let's see if we can get this whole thing a little bit past acceptable."

day two here

[livia-dovehallow]

Hii! Can I ask what is your opinion of Grace right now?

Hi! Of course you can! (And as a forewarning, my use of "you" throughout this answer is in the general sense and not at all directed to you specifically, anon!)

I'll try to keep this spoiler-free, as this is an overall opinion throughout all the books.

At the start, I was generally indifferent to her, as she was really only around to further James's plot and I am not a fan of James (or the main love triangle at all. I despise love triangles).

But, once we started getting more of her separate from that toward the end of Chog and throughout ChoI, I think she's a seriously misunderstood character and people are quick to hate and spewing their hate all across the fandom and in the Grace Blackthorn tag.

No, Grace is not meant to be a perfect character. She is not even meant to be a good character (in terms of good v evil). She is purposely meant to parallel Estella from Great Expectations but offer her side of the story in addition to the other (which we don't get of Estella in Great Expectations. This isn't a spoiler for Great Expectations considering this book is literally almost 150+ years old.)

We're meant to see an admittedly toned-down depiction of a girl who has been seriously emotionally abused and neglected, had her beloved brother die horribly in her arms, and has no memory of her birth family--only of her sick, twisted adoptive mother. We're meant to see how she has felt she needed to do these things to survive. She's a sixteen/seventeen year old girl; we seriously cannot expect her to have the most seamless, foolproof decision making skills. We obviously know Tatiana does not have a seamless, foolproof decision making ability. You really expect me to think she taught Grace any?

Grace made bad choices. Grace hurt people. Are we meant to sympathize with her? Well, that's where it's reader's interpretation. But I certainly think she's not meant to be villainized. More of a morally gray character, who did both good and bad things to survive because she felt she had to.

Do we see her come to recognize the difference between those good and bad things at the end of Chain of Iron? Sure, we see the start of it. But we can't honestly expect her to make up for everything she did in a one week time span that is the break between Chain of Iron and Chain of Thorns.

Nor, do I think, are we meant to forgive her either. That's also reader's interpretation/choice. I'll leave that to you all to decide for yourselves once you read Chain of Thorns. Whether you think she got what she deserved or didn't is literally entirely reader's choice.

But I do get pretty annoyed when I see people use certain words, phrases, and descriptions of Grace. I think calling Grace a r*pist is beyond inappropriate. That's a serious thing to call someone. What she did to Matthew is definitely assault. But I think the fandom often forgets that r*pe is a serious, serious thing and is not something to be thrown around lightly or just because you hate a character. This is a terrible thing that happens to too many people and just throwing it around all the time like that isn't doing any favors to fellow fans who have experiences or triggers of it.

I certainly can tell you that there are many fans who feel as though they can identify with Grace because they, too, grew up with an abusive parent or felt pressured into doing things they didn't necessarily want to do because it was the only way they could see to survive. Not all victims of abuse are perfectly docile and innocent like I think many people like to believe. No two victims are the same. Some may grow up able to cope well. Others do not. Many, I'm sure, what stood exactly where Grace has--at a crossroads of survival instinct and recovery. Some have made bad choices themselves just as much as they've made good choices. Some more than others.

You all remember that I went to the Chain of Thorns tour. There was one fan who described this exact feeling of identifying with Grace because her own mother was abusive and neglectful. She said she never expected to see a character like Grace in a YA novel because of the dark undertones of that kind of experience. Like I mentioned earlier, it is an admittedly toned-down description since it is a YA book, but there is always someone out there who can identify with that character in one way or another.

Also, Grace is a fictional character. I have seen many of you who have said terrible things about Grace turn around and love the villains of other books who do terrible things, too. Is it because Grace is a girl? Is it because you may have found yourself a bit too in love with the fictional James Herondale? Whatever the reason, take a minute to reflect on why it is you feel the need to spew hate about a fictional character and threaten people whose opinions differ from yours.

I have had several people come to me on here, both in asks and in chats, telling me that for the longest time, they did not feel safe talking about Grace at all on any platform because they would be attacked in all directions for it. That is not how a fandom should be. That is not a fandom at all. That is a terribly isolating experience that someone who has sought comfort in these books or just simply enjoys a character should not have to be subjected to because you think your opinion is morally superior.

Sometimes I wonder if I am just sounding too much like a grandma when I say things like this because I know I'm of the older crowd of TSC fans but you're not cool just because you attack people online. Having a moral superiority complex does not make you cool. The world is not black and white. Things are not as simple and good and bad. And you certainly do not have a right to spew hateful, rude, abhorrent things to people who may think differently than you do.

An anon said this in a previous ask about Grace, and I fully agree: liking Grace doesn't mean you condone everything she did or approve of anything she did. It just means you like a fictional character, for whatever reasons.

I've fully moved off my indifferent opinion of Grace and have moved toward finding that I think her character is incredibly more complex than I ever really gave thought to before and I think she's terribly mistreated by fans. Whether I think she's mistreated by the narrative, too, well, you'll have to read my spoiler-filled answers to previous asks to find out.

But that is my extremely long, elaborative answer on my opinion of Grace, and I hope that answers your question, anon (or at least addresses what you wanted me to talk about)!

...

This is also a reminder to any new followers of mine (welcome!) that I am a legal adult. I am 23 years old, almost 24. If there are topics I discuss or write about that make you uncomfortable, you do not have to read them. You don't have to interact or engage with any of it at all. You're free to unfollow me if you ever feel uncomfortable. I will answer all kind/polite asks, whether they contain adult content or not, though I will always tag accordingly.

Anything I write that contains even a hint of adult content will always be tagged as such and I will not write any explicit content of under-age characters. (Since I mostly write about Gabrily, I tend to focus on their early years of marriage if a piece references adult concepts at all).

[theangryjikooker]

I would love to know your opinion on this

So basically, jungkook liked an old video from real_chuther on tiktok dancing to seven. In the video she's wearing a super cropped shirt & super baggy pants which shows her thong when she's dancing. Obviously done purposely based on her other videos. This caused people to kinda make it a big deal on Twitter.

I personally didn't think too much of it until I saw a twt that he updated his tiktok name to 'jk, army, & bts', so this made me curious and I went to his page and noticed he also unliked the girls video. Maybe it's just me, but I find it weird how jungkook's first instinct when there's something involving a woman is to throw a lot of love to army and bts. He did the same with the leaked video. He tried to do damage control and said he doesn't have a gf and wants to focus on work and that he only needs army..

The more stuff like this happens the more I start to get convinced that jungkook is indeed straight 🙃 it's also starting to look like he has a type. From everything that has happened so far, what are your thoughts on his sexuality and jikook?

I don’t keep micro tabs on the members like this, which I think is really important to mention. Obviously I don’t see it, but I also don’t feel the intense suspicion and paranoia about how someone is acting based on how they’re moving online. And that sort of intense focus is going to cause someone to think that everything is connected when, in reality, it’s probably not.

I’m not saying that that’s the case here because I’m not Jungkook. But from where I’m standing, if that really was a concern of his, he’d keep his likes private. Your guess is as good as mine as to why he’d unlike it, and admittedly I’d say unliking it was a poor choice (if, in fact, he initially liked it because it was a dance cover to his song) because it unintentionally creates a narrative that wouldn’t have existed had he not.

Maybe it was an accident, maybe he didn’t like the cover as much as he thought, maybe being “associated” with this girl is problematic, even if he has no ties to her—the list goes on. But in the end, I keep circling back to the thought that if this is as big as a problem as it seems, locking his likes and not interacting with other TikToks would be safer for him.

And if he did genuinely like it, and if she is genuinely his type, and he’s just covering his ass? That’s his choice. I’m not reading into it, though.

I tend to avoid talking about their sexuality because it’s really none of my business. I only form opinions on what’s known/what we can see, which changes every time and is never set. My current speculation is that it’s possible he does like women, but I can’t say that for sure either.

Doesn’t really influence my favor for Jikook because I don’t view them romantically. It’s more of a fun bonus if there’s any truth to that narrative, but I think their relationship is really cute, and their style of play/interactions is the most endearing and relatable to me.

[quinn-borel]

[Quinnmeric/Wolmeric Modern!AU. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3 ]

The words “Manderville Boardwalk” arched over the main entry to the venue as both Quinn and Aymeric exited their Kwehber.  As expected, the walk was bustling with all sorts of patrons going about the different stalls that lined the beachfront property.  There was an abundance of things to do, almost overwhelmingly so.  Quinn fidgeted with her blouse a bit before taking the first step towards the main street,

“Well?  Shall we?”

“I can’t say we have anything like this back in Coerthas.” Aymeric began as he followed her, “Sure, maybe a lake or two have attractions like this but not at such a scale.”

“Don’t get too overwhelmed, alright?” Quinn said with a soft laugh, “We can take it slow if need be.”

He hadn’t realized he had the look of childlike wonder upon his face as he gawked at the amount of people and attractions.  While he was far from overwhelmed, he did feel at a loss of what to do first.  He had hoped that Quinn would take the lead, given she seemed a tad more familiar with the venue than he was.  

“I haven’t been to one of these since I was a kid.” Quinn explained.  

Well, maybe they both were at a loss of what to do amid the numerous choices.  

There were restaurants, shops, food stalls, carnival-style games, live music, rides…no one could leave the place wanting for entertainment.  Quinn seemed to look to him for a suggestion as he stared off into the distance trying to decide what would catch his fancy.  Aymeric tried to think of the last time he had gone on a sort of venture for leisure, but admittedly the last time he even stepped in a store was to get a suit tailored.  What did he even enjoy shopping for?  Again, maybe Quinn would lead the way with something catching her eye instead.

“There’s a lot going on here,” Aymeric began, “anything stand out to you?”

She had already broken away from him and made way to one of the stalls, staring at the jewelry laid out on the table.  He chuckled under his breath as he followed her, his gaze lingering more on her than the shiny trinkets laid out for sale.  They weren’t expensive by any means, all looking hand-made if anything.  Quinn seemed to eye a pair of earrings with blue flowers on them and a small silver chain that dangled as well.  

“These are cute.” she stated aloud, though Aymeric was unsure of how to answer given his lack of expertise in fashion.  She looked to him expectantly, however, as if she were fishing for his opinion.  Aymeric leaned towards her to get a better look at them,

“I will say I’m partial to the color.  Though, I think flowers are a bit more your style than my own.”

Quinn checked the provided mirror at the stall and placed one of the pieces to her ear, “Hmm…I don’t wear blue that often, but I think I like these enough.”

“Cash only.” the owner stated from behind the table.  Aymeric could see Quinn pout in the mirror as she gently sat the pieces back down on the table.

“Shit.” she muttered, “I only have my card on me.”

Almost by instinct Aymeric pulled his wallet out, digging around for the few bills he did have on him,

“How much?” he asked the owner, to which they grinned with delight upon seeing the bills in hand.  Quinn turned to Aymeric with red cheeks,

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aymeric said with a smile, “plus…they look good on you.”  

She still seemed rather hesitant to let him pay, but he already took the card from the table and checked the price.  Several bills came out of the billfold and were handed to the owner, who gave an approving nod before allowing Quinn to take the earrings.

“Aymeric…”

He could see it in her eyes that she was thankful, yet her overall demeanor reflected that of embarrassment.  Aymeric didn’t allow his smile to waver, trying his best to show her that it was a mere pittance to him.  However, he would take the opportunity to take a step forward towards her and touch the card in her hand,

“You can pay me back by wearing them.” he explained.  This caused Quinn to stiffen up, her ears then burning with further embarrassment.  He couldn’t believe how easy it was to catch her off guard, a strange contrast from the night before, “...I-If you want to, that is.”

“I’ll wear them.” she huffed, turning to the mirror still trying to hide her face with her words spilling out at a quickened pace, “Just give me a moment…”

She certainly fumbled a bit trying to get each piece of jewelry to fit, her hands somewhat shaky as she did so.  Aymeric was concerned that he had gone too far at that point, seeing her all flustered and the like.  He was about to apologize when she turned to him, eyes lit up with a bright smile that appeared to shimmer along with the silver dangling from her ears,

“...H-how do I look?”she asked, to which Aymeric matched her smile with his own,

“Lovely.” he simply stated.  Quinn kicked her feet a bit before leaving the stall, grabbing his arm in the process,

“Come on, there’s more I wanna see.” she said as she tugged him along, “And next thing we do? I’m paying.”

He couldn’t help but to laugh, allowing her to pull him along the way.  Truly, putting her into a flustered frenzy opened up a new side to her that he rather enjoyed.  While she initially rushed away from the shop with a furrowed brow, he could see a playful smile pulling at her lips as she led him to another stall.  Her smile was absolutely contagious, and Aymeric found himself grinning along with her.

They made their way down the walk, chatting about this and that while Quinn pointed out stall after stall trying to gauge what Aymeric may have liked.  He knew well that she had the intention of purchasing something for him, but his modest tastes left her almost begging for him to just pick something for her to return the favor with.  Alas, all that he wanted was her company and that beautiful smile of hers.  All the while she continued to keep a firm hold on his forearm–to many, they really did look like a couple.

“Is there anything that catches your eye?” she asked.  Aymeric simply shrugged,

“I’m not hungry and I’ve no need for a souvenir.” he explained, “I’m honestly just enjoying my time out and about.”

She finally relented, though it seemed as if she rather enjoyed holding on to his arm.  In fact, though slightly hesitant, she stood closer to him and hooked her arm around his–a bold move, he thought, though it wasn’t unwelcome.  With a look of relief that he didn’t outright reject her advance, she gave his arm a squeeze as if to let him know that she wanted to continue on.  While there was little actual boardwalk left, the pier appeared quite appealing to the couple.  Aymeric guided her that way, hoping that maybe checking out the view of the harbor would be somewhat entertaining.  

Yet as they walked, Quinn felt her phone vibrating within her purse.  With a heavy sigh, she released Aymeric’s arm to check it–a look of relief came over her as she noticed the name on the screen.  Aymeric could only take a cursory glance, but he noticed the name “Minfilia” at the top.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Quinn bowed slightly, “It’s my agent.”

“Take your time.” Aymeric gave her a nod, and she proceeded to answer the phone with his blessing.  

“Yes?...Yeah...No, I can’t right now.” her eyes glanced over to Aymeric, “I’m on a date right now… No, not with him...I don’t know where he is, Minfilia, I’m not his keeper.  Okay.  Okay.  Bye.”

She jammed her phone back in her purse, a look of annoyance upon her features.  Aymeric chose not to pry, yet he couldn’t help but to feel a heat in his cheeks at the notion that Quinn considered their outing a ‘date’.  He lingered onto that fact to try not to think about what else she was talking about with her agent–not with ‘him’?  Could she have been talking about the ‘crewmate’ that Haurchefant brought up?  Obviously by her tone, she seemed to want nothing to do with whoever the guy was…and that was a slight relief to him.  

“Sorry.” she turned to him, “My agent wanted to meet up about something but…well, I’m busy.”

“I’m not keeping you, am I?”

“Of course not.  Trust me, I’d rather be here.”

“On our ‘date’?” he asked with a smirk.  Quinn froze for a moment, her hand touching her lips,

“…I suppose I did call it that.” she muttered, “...I-I mean, if it’s not-”

“I’m fine with it.” Aymeric interjected, offering his arm to her once more, “…shall we?”

“If you insist.” Quinn shot back with a giggle, taking his arm in hers once more.  She leaned into him slightly, making the hold a tad more intimate than before.  It was in that moment Aymeric felt a rush of excitement run through him.

Did she…like him?

“So I know they’re mostly rigged…” Quinn began as her eyes trailed off to one of the game booths about the pier, “…but I think it’s time for a little fun, don’t you think?”

“I’ve been having fun, but sure.” he laughed, “I’ve never played a carnival game before.”

“What? You haven’t!?” Quinn was rather shocked at the fact, “Oh, then we have to play at least one.”

Again she pulled him along to their next destination, her eyes sparkling under the lights of the first actual attraction of the afternoon.  Balloons lined a bright red wall which was bordered by a series of small plush animals and characters, presumably the prizes for the game.  Aymeric curiously studied the attraction, having seen one like it before but never actually playing.  They were rigged money-suckers after all–but Quinn seemed to be in the mood to gamble.  The attendant went over his lines, the ‘come one, come all’ spiel and eyed Quinn as she approached the booth, rubbing her hands together as she eyed what looked like the mascot for Kwehber on the wall–a medium-sized chicken with big, blue eyes and a chunky orange beak.  ‘Alpha’ was his name, from what Aymeric could remember from the ads.  Aymeric approached as well, though the attendant seemed more keen on getting Quinn’s attention for the game.

“Hello, Miss!  Care to play this high-stakes balloon-poppin’ game?” he said to her, “You get six darts.  Pop five red balloons for the large prize, pop four for a medium, and three for a small.  All other colors and less than three give you a consolation prize.  Everyone’s a winner!”

Aymeric once again studied the board– exactly five red balloons were spread amidst an array of other colored balloons.  If he understood correctly, Quinn had to hit only the red balloons to get an actual prize, whereas hitting another color would immediately put her in the consolation bracket. She would be better off missing than hitting a blue or a green one.

“High stakes indeed.” Aymeric mused, pulling out his wallet once more to grab a smaller bill, “This should get us a few plays, right?”

“Just so you know, I intend to at least buy ice cream next.” Quinn pointed out as she eyed the bill in his hand.  The attendant took the crisp bill and counted exactly twelve darts,

“Two plays worth.” he said, giving six to Quinn and six to Aymeric, “Good luck.”

Quinn grasped the darts in her palm, looking to Aymeric who motioned for her to go first,

“Care to show me the ropes?”

“Of course.”  Quinn exhaled slowly as she aimed the dart–

pop

There went the first red balloon.  She needed at least two more to get a prize.

pop!

The second red balloon fizzled out as the dart pierced it.  A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as Aymeric continued to watch her.  She really made it look that easy.  That is, until she released the third dart–and a gust of air from the attendant’s fan nudged all of the balloons on the wall to the right, causing her dart to graze the blue balloon next to the red one she was aiming for.

pop…

Quinn deflated along with the balloon in question,

“Damn it.”

“So sorry, Miss.” the attendant said with his own little smirk, “Here’s your consolation prize!”

It was a small plastic ring meant for a child.  It mocked her as she palmed it–it would go into the next trash can they came across for sure.  

“Well, Sir?” the attendant looked to Aymeric who was calmly holding his own six darts.  Quinn leaned against the booth to watch him, wondering if they were going to get matching rings.

His icy blue gaze fell on each new red balloon that protruded from the wall.  It was in that moment that he remembered his days playing darts with the likes of Haurchefant and Estinien on the weekends.  If he could manage that three sheets to the wind, he could manage this game completely sober.

The world suddenly darkened around him–he gained an essence of calmness.  The balloons seemed to sway at a particular angle, for the wind around them had picked up along with the attendant’s fan.  He tried not to think about the woman watching him rather meticulously.  This wasn’t about impressing her, no, this was about beating a rigged game.  

POP! … POP, POP!

Already a small prize was granted, so long as he didn’t hit another color.  He could have dropped the last three darts and called it a day…

…but her eyes were on the chicken.

He was about to throw the last dart, yet just as he went to throw it he stopped and watched as the attendant nudged the fan with his elbow.

aha!

The attendant looked rather surprised as the dart never left Aymeric’s hand.  No, he waited for the guy to do something shady before he cast his final shot.

POP!

“Holy shit.” Quinn muttered.  Aymeric sat down the remaining two darts on the table and pointed to the medium-sized chicken plush.  The attendant grumbled a bit before handing it to him,

“Congrats, sir.” he said, “Here’s your prize.”

Aymeric grasped the soft plush in his hands before turning and offering it to Quinn,

“You are totally right, those games are rigged.” he said with a chuckle, “Here.  For you.”

Quinn gently took the plush from his grasp, the look of amazement still sparkling in her eyes.  She was speechless for the moment before she nuzzled her face into the plush to hide her embarrassment.  Aymeric watched this display trying to keep his feelings in check–but, Gods, did she look adorable holding that little mascot in her arms.  He wondered, though, why she seemed to be at such a loss for words.  It was just a prize, right?  

“You alright, Quinn?” he asked with a smile, leaning towards her with hands in his pockets.  She gave him a silent nod as she lowered the chicken from her features.

Were those tears welling up in her eyes?

“I appreciate it.” she said, her tone far from matching the glistening in her eyes, “Sorry, I’m just…yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, how about that ice cream then?” he tried his best to move the conversation along–whatever he did, it tore at something in her heart.  Quinn gave him a nod and turned, but not before stopping in her tracks to see a mother and child behind them at the booth.

“I want chicken…” the little boy said to his mother, who shook her head sadly,

“You’re not even tall enough to stand at the booth, dear.”

“But mommy…”

“I’m so sorry.” the mother looked to Quinn and Aymeric for a moment, “My son dragged me over here because he saw the little chicken mascot you got.  This is embarrassing.”

Aymeric was about to excuse himself, yet he noticed Quinn squat down towards the child and offer the plush to him,

“His name is ‘Alpha’,” she explained, “will you take good care of him?”

“Oh, ma’am, you don’t have to…” the woman appeared flustered, yet Quinn paid no mind to her.  No, instead the young woman nudged the plush in the boy’s direction with a smile.  The little boy immediately grabbed hold of the plush, twirling around in a circle,

“Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!”

He couldn’t be any older than five.  Quinn brought herself back to her feet and wrapped her arm around Aymeric’s once more.  The woman fiddled with her purse trying to pull out a few bills in exchange, yet Quinn shook her head in protest.  

“Ma’am, it’s alright.” Quinn began, “Just make sure he takes care of it for me, alright?”

“Chicken!” the little boy yelped once more, “Kweh! Kweh!”

“I certainly will, you kind soul.  Both of you.  Thank you.”

Before Aymeric could get a word out, Quinn pulled him off to the side as she sighed,

“I couldn’t…” she began, “I’m sorry.  I know you won it and everything, but when I saw that little kid, I…”

“It’s just a stuffed animal.” Aymeric reassured her.  Quinn released her arm from his and crossed her arms over her chest as she glanced off to the side,

“…My parents never really cared about getting me toys or anything, so when that mother wanted to treat her son I just couldn’t say ‘no’, ya know?”

“I can’t say that I know from experience, but…” Aymeric scratched the back of his head awkwardly, not expecting Quinn to suddenly divulge a rather unsavory note about her past.  Though he was happy, at least, that she was comfortable enough to tell him that, “…I think you did the right thing.”

“I’ll make it up to you, ‘dart master’.” her whole demeanor changed once more, as if she wished to drop the subject, “How about some ice cream?  You have had ice cream before, right?”

“What?” he laughed awkwardly, “Just because I hadn’t played a carnival game before doesn’t mean I haven’t had ice cream before.”

“Just checking.” she teased, her arm going around his once more, “Now, the true question is at hand: chocolate, or vanilla soft serve?”

“Swirled?” he said with the tilt of his head, “I swing both ways.”

…

“Do you, now?” she said with a smirk.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Come on.”

[lifesizehysteria]

HI i'm rewatching the fosters and my general thoughts are. callie and brandon are closer to stef, mariana and jude are closer to lena and jesus kind of falls in the middle (btw this is not saying they aren't close to their other mom) what do u think

Hi!! It’s so nice to have a Fosters question. It’s been a while!

I’m actually not sure I agree with you that Brandon is closer with Stef. I think he falls pretty equally between Stef and Lena, and I think he often feels safer and more seen/understood by Lena than he does Stef. At least in my personal interpretation, which is admittedly significantly headcanon informed but which was initially developed via canon, it always felt to me like Lena sort of filled in a lot of blanks for him where he was so different from his parents. And that long term trust and understanding built between them is really crucial to his relationship with Lena by the time he is a teen. I fully admit that my working knowledge of anything beyond 1a for the kids is pretty spotty but that was how my understanding developed for his relationship to Lena.

Otherwise, I think you’re mostly right. I think it comes from the fact that the kids feel a connection to the parent who most similarly mirrors them, who more instinctively understands them and their needs. Lena is quiet and introspective, yet firm and steady. The kids can pretty much count on the fact that whatever they tell her is going to be received with calm understanding, maybe with curiosity, and at most frustration but still under a relatively calm exterior. It’s rare for her to explode, and I think with young kids it was even less likely than with teens, and Mariana and Jude really need that stability and predictability.

While Stef is much more prone to expressive outbursts upon finding out some kind of unexpected news, she is a woman of action. She’s going to chase down who she needs to chase, she’s going to tell it like it is with no bullshit, and she’s going to show up no matter what. Callie in particular needs someone like that. Since her mom died, she hasn’t had someone consistently and predictably show up for her. And she needs Stef, who is willing to prove herself over and over no matter how hard Callie pushes to try and get her to give. Callie tests Stef and Lena over and over until she truly believes they will show up for her no matter what, and I’m not sure Lena would have passed her test without Stef there, in her tough-as-nails, unwavering stubbornness. Callie might have worn Lena down.

I think your observation about Jesús is really telling, too. I think partly because he just didn’t interact with either mom as much as the other kids. But if we consider that as a canon element rather than a writing failure, I think it’s interesting. He’s kinda the black sheep of the family. His ADHD already had him feeling different by season 1, and he has more complicated feelings about belonging that impact how he acts out than, say, Brandon, who has the privilege of not having to ever question his place in the family and trusting that his parents will have his back no matter what asinine choices he makes. Jesús also desires a father figure, and that has to impact his feelings about his moms, his position in the family, etc etc. Jesús has never been my focus in terms of character analysis but I do appreciate his character a lot and I wish we had seen him spending more time with his moms so we could have a better sense of how he fits in with them and connects with them. I personally tend to see him mostly through the lens of 1a, as the kid who vehemently stood up for his moms, their relationship, and their relationship to him and Mariana. Teens pull away from their parents. That’s pretty normal. I think at the end of the day, he adores his moms and loves them deeply. I love that he’s still allowed complicated feelings about his adoption and the way that has impacted him through his life. Though, I do desperately wish we could have seen him and Stef bonding more over sports/working out. That would have been really fun because they have the same sense of humor, and I think he’s actually a lot like Stef in so many interesting ways. So much wasted potential.

[the-final-sif]

To expand on my “Eldritch-c!Dream-who-thinks-the-SMP-is-just-larping” au I mentioned yesterday:

c!Dream is both an admin and an eldritch creature (admins are often non-human, but not exclusively, and rarely eldritch like Dream), but he does his best to appear as human as possible, largely due to humans in past expressing they were most comfortable with him that way.

Dream isn’t exactly invincible, but his human body is very much so just for playing. There’s very little humans could do to hurt him, and despite the fact he can technically “feel” pain, he doesn’t really register it. He’s learned how to fake pain and being hurt as a part of pretending to be human though.

He met the Manhunt gang when he was still very new to humans, and took on a younger form to match theirs.

Manhunts evolved from Dream really enjoying long, intense games of tag. He loved to run and to be chased.

To keep everyone safe c!Badboyhalo instated a rule for Manhunts and games in general, if someone called out “Stoplight”, then the game was over.

c!Dream adored this rule, because he had a really hard time telling when the humans were actually hurt. Despite being good at faking pain, he doesn’t really understand it. Not like a human does. Humans seem so fragile to him, but he doesn’t want to be rude. The word is a nice compromise.

The Manhunt gang are all aware that Dream isn’t entirely human, he’s a bit too weird for that, but none of them are aware he’s an admin, or just how non-human he is.

He’s never lied about it, they just never asked and he never thought to tell them.

Everyone is fine and dandy for the longest time, until...the SMP.

Dream makes it as a home for his human friends, and he’s very excited about it!!

Only... then some people he’s less familiar with come in, and they start being weird and mean about things.

Dream doesn’t understand Wilbur. He starts out upset with him, confused as to why he’s doing what he does, and about ready to just ban him from the server if he doesn’t knock it off. Humans are just too weird for him sometimes.

But then lucky him! Sapnap saves the day when discussing how to handle the British!

“It’s just like a manhunt!” Sapnap says, unknowingly offering an explanation for all of this to Dream.

Of course! It’s a game! They’re just playing a game like they’ve done so many times in the past! Now it all makes sense!

Kind of.

Admittedly, this new game is a lot more confusing than Manhunt. Dream isn’t really sure what the rules are, or how he “wins” but he’s willing to play along anyways!

He tries his best to fit in, tries to play the role he thinks they want him to play. In the Manhunts, the hunters like to pretend he’s the villain, so that’s the role that comes most naturally to him.

It’s good fun, it really is!

But... sometimes he wonders if he’s pushing things a little too far? He sees Sapnap cry for the first time, and he wonders. He sees people get very, very, hurt and he wonders. It worries him a bit.

Sure, those injuries would mean nothing to him, and the tears are surely fake, it’s all just acting after all, but... they’ve never done this much before. Never gone this far.

Still, he assures himself that if he did actually cross a line, if it was too much, then someone would just call “Stoplight”! They all know the rules, if they aren’t having fun then they can just tap out. They always have before.

He reassures himself of this time and time again, even when he worries, because he has to trust that the humans know their own limits. He doesn’t like making choices for them.

And then, one day, in some fight after the prison, after everything, someone calls “Stoplight”.

Maybe it’s Bad or George out of desperation to stop him, reacting instinctively based on years of fractured trust.

Maybe it’s an accident, it’s someone who didn’t know. Who never knew, trying to say something else and getting their words mixed up.

It hardly matters.

What matters is that Dream stops.

In an instant his sword is dropped, bleeding injuries are closing enough for him to go help whoever called it. Dream’s body goes from being in tatters to working just fine where he needs it to. Everyone else is stuck in shock

It’s like cold water to the face. Suddenly, the villain of the server is gone. The Dream they knew before is back and happy to help. His words are kind again, he has no intent to injury, he’s helping whoever needs it.

Nobody really knows what to do, they don’t understand what happened.

Until things settle just a bit, and Dream picks up his sword, the wounds he had previously healed reopening to just how they were before.

“Are we okay to keep playing now?”

And that’s when the manhunt crew suddenly understands. It hits them like a brick to the face.

All of this was just a game to him.

It still was.

Fuck.