#and then i’ll display it PUBLICLY

[neve-0001]

teehee… working on a keychain design …

hi beetlejuice fandom i’m working on a keychain design because i’m starting college soon and omg i need my own self-made merch to display on my bag.

unfortunately this is not to be sold or anything but i did want to post this nonetheless because it’s a chibi beeJ <3

will likely finish this tmrw!!

[eetherealgoddess]

TR: ꨄYANDERE HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, & Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦We already know that these mfs have a crazy streak to them. That’s why we love them :) ❦

❣︎A lil gift for my unpredictability. Hopefully I’ll get to some of the pending requests soon. If not, just know that i love youuuu <3

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: Manjiro Sano, publicly known as Mikey, has been your favorite, famous racer since you found him unexpectedly on social media a couple years ago. You’ve never really been into the motorcycle scene until you saw the attractive blonde when swiping through your for you page.

You’ve even gone out of your way to visit him at the different raceways and arenas he’s raced at, cheering him on from afar along with the crowd’s roars. Although your passion for him was strong, you knew that you were nothing but a mere fan out of numerous supporters. An extra in his show.

What you failed to notice is that for the first time he noticed you was during the end of the first race you attended as he slowly paused in front of the crowd who cheered his name. As he observed with a genuine smile, you seemed to have caught his attention. As he eyed you, the energy you radiated as you applauded the short man caused him to envision his deceased older brother, along with the rest of his family who stood beside the visualization of Shinichiro.

During this time, you could’ve sworn you made eye contact before he swiftly turned away, slightly giddy at the smile you might have received.

Unknown to you Mikey’s fixation on you continues to intensify, his behavior towards you becoming incredibly invasive as well as a distant attachment forming to the idea of you. He begins to monitor your every move on social media, watching your every update and interaction with others. As his attraction deepens, he becomes determined to keep you close and under his control, going to great lengths to ensure you remain in his presence.

You were excited when you received a private message of your favorite racer wanting to meet you. You thought it was fake when you first noticed it until you saw the blue check mark and viewed the profile. Despite a slight uneasiness, you proceed with conversation and attend his races. The support becomes more personal as you become closer, his clinginess prominent though you can’t seem to find a care. Who wouldn’t want THE Manjiro Sano to link to them?

Time passes and you begin to realize how fast the relationship between you two is going. Before you know it, he’s basically moved you into his home as he requests your presence almost every single moment of the day. There were times when he even showed up to your job to get you off work so you could hang out. Luckily for you, your manager is a huge fan of the racer, but you were starting to become very uncomfortable with the off - putting behavior.

After more weird actions you made an attempt to distance yourself, only for him to question your loyalty and gaslight you into feeling guilty for trying to leave him, especially when you’re the closest person to him. Regardless, you held your ground, ready to live for yourself and to stop accommodating to the one you used to be a fan of.

“Let me show you how to ride a motorcycle.”

An eyebrow rose as you contemplated his ‘request.’ Shrugging you decided to allow it considering after this session you will continue distancing yourself from the needy man. Taking you to the nearest arena to practice, he showed you the basics and even displayed it on his own bike before handing it off to you.

Feeling nervous and yet the adrenaline boost causing excitement, you began on your own way around the arena, gaining momentum as you pressed the gas pedal, helmet tight on your head.

A few minutes pass when you decide to slow down, though when you hit the brake pedal, it doesn't show any signs of halting. A rush of anxiety and pure fear shoots through your chest as you desperately attempt to slow down. You attempt to scream for Mikey, turning your head to meet his gaze only to catch a quick glimpse of his stoic facial expression.

“Oh my God!”

Realizing the motorcycle was only speeding up to no end, you forcefully push yourself off the bike, landing harshly on the ground as the motorcycle falls off the trail and slams into a nearby wall, pieces flying everywhere. The pain in your body numbs out before engulfing your nerves as you groan before falling into a deep slumber.

Two months have passed since the devastating incident and your whole world has changed. You sit in your wheelchair in your former favorite’s home while he sits in between your paralyzed legs on a small stool. Your fingers trace through his blonde locks to pull half of it into a ponytail. He couldn’t help but sit with a smile, knowing that you’ll be tied to him for a while. At least for your recovery.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling of a grin was long forgotten as your whole reality became sucked into his, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Kazutora: The arcade had always been a place that held fond memories from your childhood. While it was open, you’d visit almost daily after school was released. You remember getting scolded everytime you would skip out on your homework or give minimum effort just to play on the machines and hang out with your friends. You always thought the building would be your preferred spot, even in your adulthood.

It never crossed your mind that one day, the business would shut down, the owners eventually abandoning the nostalgic structure and leaving the walls to rot. You also never thought you’d be sitting with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you lay your head down in an attempt to block your vision from what is playing out in front of you within the walls of the old arcade that used to be your comfort zone.

Unfortunately, your hearing exposed you to the disturbing impact of skin against bloody, torn flesh as fists make contact with the unconscious victim lying on the grimy cement. Your eyelids are shut tight as your hidden expression holds a grimace. Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

You ignore the blood thirsty men who cheer on the violent endeavor. Their voices echo throughout the room, making it harder for you to tune out the situation. You had only heard of Valhalla before you were forced to meet them. Your certified ‘boyfriend’ made sure to show you off once he had a hold of you, almost like a prized possession he claimed. You never even agreed to the title, but you knew not to test the unstable man.

“Kazutora.” Although your voice is muffled, he’d never miss it no matter how quiet you are. Even in a room full of intimidating men. The sound of skin connecting halts as the room goes quiet. Your grip tightens around your limbs as you hear steady footsteps come towards you. Ignoring the whistling and whispers from the males watching the display, the footsteps stop in front of you before a hand gently grips the back of your head. You could feel the moisture of the red substance seeping to your scalp, causing a shiver up your spine. The golden eyed male guides your head up, forcing you to make eye contact as you give him a distressed gaze.

“H-he only greeted me. Stop… please.” You demand, your fingers fidgeting with the tight skin against your legs as you eye him crouching in your line of vision. He gives you a blank stare, the orbs wide with an unreadable expression that causes a prominent discomfort. He removes his hand from your head as he rests his arms against his bent legs.

“You’re taking his side now? That kinda hurts my feelings, Y/n.” His head tilts as he gives a sheepish smile with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his streaked locks.

“I-I’m not!” You shriek, eager to prove him wrong so as to not rile him up more. The poor male lying on the ground got caught in the crossfire of this psychopath’s wrath all because he greeted you. You were tired of others getting hurt in the process of even being near you. He’s an innocent bystander and it isn’t fair.

“Oh, Y/n. How could you be so insensitive to your lover’s concerns?” Hanma, a guy you’ve never liked, adds fuel to the flame as he sits with his legs crossed in a chair, leaning on the palm of his hand with a sly smile. “It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson. I’d give him a few more rounds for good measure. He can take it.” He shrugs with a smug expression.

You glare at him while the rest of the men agree and add their own two cents before facing Kazutora, who only stares back at you with an intense gaze that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t talk to him again. Please just stop the violence.” You notice the blood running down his arms from his hands as it stains his pants. Your eyebrows furrow at the sight and strong smell which only grew as he placed both palms on your cheeks while kneeling. Both of your foreheads connect gently as he breathes your scent in.

“You’re mine, you know that right? You won’t ever betray me like that again?” He questions with his eyes closed. You feel his thumbs caress your skin as the blood smears, nodding your head to answer his questions.

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sanzu: You couldn’t help but feel like someone is playing a cruel psychological prank on you. The nagging feeling of being watched no matter where you go, even in your own home. The glimpses of a shadow figure in the corner of your eye, only for you to turn your head to see nothing. You ignored it at first, continuing your days as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t until a corpse was found in your bathroom, awaiting your arrival to view the disturbing display of a decaying body. You screeched until your throat couldn’t release sound anymore. After calling the police you sat in your living room. Once the authorities reached the scene, there was no sight of any dead body.

A few weeks pass and you just got off from work, ready to shower and throw yourself on your bed. You allowed the heat of the water to relax your muscles as you rubbed along your dermis with the soapy cloth. Once you were finished, you stepped out of the bathroom in your towel before heading to your bedroom.

Once you were dressed, you hopped into bed and switched your lamp off, the moonlight shining through the cracked curtains.

Although your eyelids were closed, you were interrupted from drifting off to sleep when a palm covered your mouth as a weight held you down. Your eyes shoot open, an icy blue glaring down at you through the darkness, as well as pink strands draping over the male’s shoulders. The lump in your throat burns as the tears threaten to fall out of your eyes as you stare in fear at the growing, scarred smile.

You watch as his free hand comes towards his mouth, his index finger pointed upwards and landing against his lips.

“Shh…” He motions for you to stay quiet as he feels the vibration of your whimpers against his skin. The free hand moves behind him before a shiny object is pulled out and pressed against your neck. Your eyes squint as the tears fall down your cheeks, body trembling as you feel the cold surface make contact with your skin.

“Did ya recognize him?” He questioned in amusement, just above a whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you searched your brain for what he could mean.

“Why would you let a scum near my pussy?” You almost jerked back at the chuckling crazy guy. You have no clue who he even is nor who he’s talking about. That is… until it hits you.

The memory of the corpse you found in the bathroom plays out in your head. At the time you weren’t really focused on the identity because of how distraught you were to find the dead body. Now that you remember, the familiarity of the male’s face wasn’t hard to depict. He had been your most recent booty call, a friend of a friend who became your temporary close friend.

How you couldn’t recognize him was because you rarely ever called each other so it was only a couple of times you hooked up. Why the hell did this guy kill him and why is he referring to your vagina as ‘his pussy?’

You take a really good look at the man in front of you to try and figure out his thinking process, when it finally clicked.

That face… those eyes… those scars.

“Haru?!” Your voice is muffled against his hand, the male you happened to meet when he was blonde and masked. The boy you went to middle school with. The quiet boy you sat with at lunch, conversing even when he didn’t respond. The boy you created a close and yet distant friendship with. The boy who slightly broke your heart when he disappeared and was never heard from again. What the hell happened to him? Was he always this psychotic?

He observed you as realization hit, the crazed grin seeming to stretch wider than before. The glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer as he leaned closer to you.

“This time, you’re coming with me.”

[chuunai]

hey, congrats 100 followers !! i would love to join your celebration♡ may i request beastzai (or js adazai) with the scenario married life (1) & all in all, it was a typical tuesday (8) as the prompt ?

congrats on 100 again !!!! it’s a big number and a big achievement !!

I think Dazai is really hot too.

✧˚ · . vroom vroom, than a table for two - dazai osamu

he certainly couldn’t complain.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → icky PDA, cutesy nicknames, minor mention of sex (it’s like barely there though) and overall puppy husband dazai. also obvious mentions of suicide its DAZAI

It was Tuesday.

And also another hardworking day at the Agency. So, so tiring, according to your husband—not that he ever worked—to the point where he simply needed a break with his lovely spouse. That’s how you found yourself hand-in-hand with him during your lunch break, walking down the sidewalks of Yokohama while he excitedly spoke about a new suicide method he had heard of.

Yesterday was a homemade shrapnel bomb, today was a wrecking ball.

“Basically, you hide out in a building that’s scheduled to be demolished and eventually it collapses on you! Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to you expectantly, a cheery smile on his face. It was quick, painless enough method of suicide. Beautiful in a way, too. Sunlight would be warming his skin, the air fresh and crisp and then tons of concrete and plaster would crush his entire body in one fell swoop. No pain, just gain of access to the afterlife.

Looking back at him, you sheepishly shrugged, replying back to amuse both him and yourself. 50% of the time, his attempts were idiotic and funny, the other 50% was genuinely worrying and mildly terrifying. Today seemed to be the former, though. Thankfully.

Plus, it wasn’t like the method would even work due to some random info you found out about on the internet.

“Yeah, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure they check the buildings for people before they demolish them. So you’d get found out.”

Your tone was as equally playful and light as his. He wouldn’t really kill himself. You weren’t ready for a double suicide yet, sadly. His lips curled into a frown when you mentioned how it wouldn’t work, his fingers squeezing yours as he exaggerated his sigh.

“And here I was, certain of my demise! Guess that means I’ll be with you a bit longer, darling.”

Not that he really minded.

Sure, he constantly went off about suicide and how beautiful the whole concept was, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t want to die without you at his side. He’s firmly one of those people who’d kill himself after his beloved died. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself after you died. Sure, he made Odasaku a promise, but he made you a vow.

Until death do them part.

When you died, so would he.

But no one was dying today. Just a happy day for a happy couple.

Dazai’s hand slipped out of yours, curling around your hips instead as he pulled you closer to his side. He wanted to show off his pretty partner to anyone who happened to look over at you two. Show off the person who owns his heart and soul and is his perfect reason to live for just a little bit longer. No one else deserved his gorgeous belladonna.

Just him and him only.

Only Dazai could kiss your lips at any given moment—publicly or privately—, and only he could watch you dress up for dates, brushing out your hair while he mumbled compliments into the spot where your collarbone met your neck. Only Dazai could spend hours with you at night, hearing his name from your lips while his fingers intertwined with yours at the intimate moments.

No one else could hope to do the same with you.

That’s why he soon was leading you into a bakery, the smell of pastries and bread flooding the air as he looked over the treats in the display cases. Black sesame roll cakes, all squishy looking and yummy. The cookies ranging from chocolate chip to matcha and plain vanilla. They all looked so good, but the prices weren’t quite the same.

God, when it came to money, Dazai wished he was still in the Mafia. At least he had tons of it back then.

Now, he had to be a bit more frugal with his income from the Agency. Sure, you guys weren’t dirt poor or unable to afford food and other necessities, but you couldn’t always get special snacks like this. Maybe once every week or two, if you could do so.

Nudging your shoulder, he tapped the glass, looking at you expectantly. He always did this—letting you choose what the two of you would eat. Dazai didn’t mind either. You had good taste unlike his diet of canned crab and alcohol.

“I trust my lovely spouse’s taste and that you’ll pick something good like always.”

He was such a puppy. Only for you, he thought.

“Uhmm…dunno. Pick a number, one or two.”

Dazai placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be in thought like it was the most important decision in his twenty-two years of life so far. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between you and the sweet treats while he hummed quietly. One or two? Eh. He’d go with two. There was the two of you here, after all.

“Two.”

He watched as you pointed at a slice of strawberry cheesecake, your eyes looking at him for approval. Honestly, Dazai never understood why you wanted his approval for everything. You were his equal—his life partner, nonetheless—so there was really no need for this behavior. But he couldn’t blame you. Even now, he had a bit of a commanding aura.

“Oooooh, that looks good! Knew you’d pick something tasty.”

Dazai pecked your cheek affectionately while he held your hand walking to the counter, ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake, taking out Kunikida’s credit card that he had ‘borrowed’ from the blondie earlier at work. Compared to the thievery he had committed in his younger years, it was practically begging to be used with how his wallet was smack dab in the middle of his desk.

Carefully holding the two plates of the cheesecake slices, he led you over to a table in the corner, giving you a fork as he sat down across from you. He didn’t eat until you dug into your piece first, making sounds of contentment as sweetness coated both your taste buds. Geez, it was good. Worth the price for sure. The corner of your lips were stained with the white frosting, and so he swiped his thumb over the mess, cooing at you like a parent.

“Ah ah, ‘donna. You’re getting messy.”

Dazai liked the flush of your face. How flustered you were as you insisted you could clean yourself and that you weren’t a baby and a fully capable grown adult.

“I’m not a baby, ‘samu! I can take care of myself, ‘kay?”

Of course, of course.

“Uh-huh. And you’re not a baby. You’re my baby. My clumsy little baby who can’t eat without making a mess.”

Chewing on the rest of his slice, minutes passed, filled with conversations between the two of you about work, how Atsushi was doing—probably still traumatized and fucked over, is what you both agreed about—, plans for dinner. You tastefully ignored his comment about what he wanted for dessert. At least there weren’t any kids in the bakery.

Thankfully for everyone else in the establishment, your ‘lunch’ was finished. Walking out of the cafe, he clasped onto your hand firmly, feeling his wedding ring rub against your skin. The sounds of honking and birds chirping filled the air, but all Dazai could hear were your gentle breaths coupled with the sound of your footsteps.

Nothing really mattered besides you, in his eyes.

His everything—his reason to live.

Eternally.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

[amourrs]

as people almost twice my age feel the need to vague post about me let me clear some things up. this is the last i’ll be saying on the situation- unless you all want to send me some more death threats to treasure (as if that’s a reasonable and normal thing to do or helps your case even slightly). calling me a “kink shamer” for saying reader being literally child adjacent is weird is like… so 2+2=89 now? in general i would never publicly knock any kinks, even those i would definitely rather not partake in- but i WILL knock the idea that having reader act as a child is acceptable. no matter what you say i will stand by the fact that this is not a kink. it is a very dangerous precedent to set ourselves as writers in this space and is also very much inappropriate when there are young impressionable people reading fanfiction. we all know minors have access to the internet and these fics no matter how much we may plaster 18+ warnings on them and i do truly believe we have a duty to display safe, consensual sex in fics- even for younger adults such as myself. in fact, even for adults who are much older than me- i think we should all be emphasising the importance of consent and healthiness in kink and sex. it is impossible for this to happen when these writers create readers who act incredibly childlike (this is not in reference to sfw fics, i truly don’t care about those) and then put these oc ��readers” in sexual settings where it is clear they are too “naïve” to consent. these “reader inserts” often are written as if they are not aware of how sex works or their own basic anatomy, much like a child would not be. it is highly reminiscent of sexual grooming and i would suggest that if you are truly insistent that you are still going to write this, tag your fics as noncon or the like because that’s what they are.

+ prev post.

[contemplatingoutlander]

The House GOP is a circus. The chaos has one source.

Republicans spent two years sabotaging the U.S. House. Another two years would be ruinous.

Dana Milbank does a masterful job of describing just how dysfunctional the House GOP members have been in the past two years.

This is a gift🎁link for the entire article. Below are some highlights:

The Lord works in mysterious ways. Six weeks after his improbable rise from obscurity to speaker of the House in late 2023, Louisiana’s Mike Johnson decided to break bread with a group of Christian nationalists. [...] “I’ll tell you a secret, since media is not here,” Johnson teased the group, unaware that his hosts were streaming video of the event. Johnson informed his audience that God “had been speaking to me” about becoming speaker, communicating “very specifically,” in fact, waking him at night and giving him “plans and procedures.” [...] Today, Johnson’s run looks anything but heaven-sent. In the first 18 months of this Congress, only 70 laws were enacted. Calculations by political scientist Tobin Grant, who tracks congressional output over time, put this Congress on course to be the do-nothingest since 1859-1861 — when the Union was dissolving. But Johnson’s House isn’t merely unproductive; it is positively lunatic. Republicans have filled their committee hearings and their bills with white nationalist attacks on racial diversity and immigrants, attempts to ban abortion and to expand access to the sort of guns used in mass shootings, incessant harassment of LGBTQ Americans, and even routine potshots at the U.S. military. They insulted each other’s private parts, accused each other of sexual and financial crimes, and scuffled with each other in the Capitol basement. They screamed “Bullshit!” at President Joe Biden during the State of the Union address. They stood up for the Confederacy and used their official powers to spread conspiracy theories about the “Deep State.” Some even lent credence to the idea that there has been a century-old Deep State coverup of space aliens, with possible involvement by Mussolini and the Vatican.

The above article was adapted from Dana Milbank's (2024) book: Fools on the HILL: The Hooligans, Saboteurs, Conspiracy Theorists, and Dunces Who Burned Down the House.

[See more below the cut.]

And this is on top of the well-known pratfalls: The 15-ballot marathon to elect a speaker, the 22-day shutdown of the House to find another speaker, the routine threats of government shutdowns and a near-default on the federal debt that hurt the nation’s credit rating. They devoted 18 months to a failed attempt to impeach Biden, which produced nothing but Marjorie Taylor Greene publicly displaying posters of Hunter Biden engaging in sex acts. One “whistleblower” defected to Russia, another worked with Russian intelligence and is under indictment for fabricating his claims, and still another is on the lam, evading charges of being a Chinese agent. As soon as Biden withdrew his candidacy, they promptly forgot their probe of Biden’s “corruption” and rushed to launch a new series of investigations into Kamala Harris (over her record on border security) and Tim Walz (over his military service and “cozy relationship” with China). After a number of failed attempts, they did impeach Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas (the first such action against a Cabinet officer since 1876) without identifying any high crimes or misdemeanors he had committed; the Senate dismissed the articles without a trial. House Republicans created a “weaponization committee” under the excitable Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio), but it was panned even by right-wing commentators when it produced little more than a list of conspiracy theories from the likes of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard. They lapsed repeatedly into fits of censure resolutions, contempt citations and other pointless acts of vengeance. In all of its history, the House had voted to censure one of its own members only seven times; in the two weeks after Johnson became speaker, members of the House tried to censure each other eight times. [...] In lieu of consequential legislating, they passed bills such as the Refrigerator Freedom Act, the Gas Stove Protection and Freedom Act and the Stop Unaffordable Dishwasher Standards (SUDS) Act. On the House floor, the Republican majority suffered one failure after another, even on routine procedural votes. Seven times (and counting), House Republicans voted down their own leaders�� routine attempts to begin floor debates — something that hadn’t happened once in the previous 20 years.

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

PDA | Preference

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: This is a semi short fic for the slashers, but I wanted to start off my blog somewhere! I’ll be back as soon as I can with some more. I’m going to be doing quite a few different chapters, and I’m always open to new ideas! 

Characters in this chapter include: Art, Billy, Stu, Brahms, Corey, Mark, Michael, and Pinhead. 

For my growing list of preferences and scenarios, you can follow along here! 

Art The Clown

The two of you aren’t out in public together very often. With you having a busy work schedule, and Art being… well…

Instead, most of your time is spent in the safety and privacy of your apartment. Windows closed, shades drawn, lamps on and a movie playing while the two of you sit on the sofa together and you end up smooshed against his side when he pulls you in for a tight hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. On Halloween, one of the very few times you’re ever out with Art, he doesn’t do much. Truthfully, he’s too busy keeping an eye out for victims— as well as police. He will hold your hand, exaggeratingly swinging it between the two of you for fun, and he may dip to press a kiss to your lips as well— but it would be fast before he’s back on the lookout.

Billy Loomis

When the man says that he doesn’t care much about displaying his affection for you publicly, he means it. There isn’t a time, it seems, that his arm isn’t snug around you. That his hand isn’t in your back pocket when you’re walking in public. When you’re not holding his hand and snuggling into his side. It doesn’t matter where you are, he’d going to hold you as he pleases. Now, he has limits when it comes to these things, especially with his kisses. Billy would only ever get too intense with you if somebody wouldn’t stop staring at you when it’s very clear you’re with him. His kisses are usually quick and soft. Only every now and then will he press a slower kiss to your lips when you’re out in public.

Stu Macher

If there’s one thing that Stu cares nothing about, it’s the concept of PDA. His arm is always around you and it’s often in your back pocket so that he can give your ass subtle (not subtle) squeezes and see if he can make you squeal. He often kisses you whenever he feels like it, whether it be a quick peck to the forehead or if it’s a smooch on the lips. As much as he loves that you and Billy are good friends, Stu has always worried that you might change your mind about him and decide that you’re into his best friend, so when the three of you are together he stays rather attached at your hip.

Brahms Heelshire

Rarely, and I mean very rarely, are you ever out in public. As far as Brahms is concerned, outside on the property with the chance of the grocery boy spotting you two together would be considered “Public.” With that being said, he doesn’t really care at all if the grocery man saw the two of you together; in fact, the more that man that likes to linger his eyes on you saw you kissing Brahms back in such a sweet way, the better. Whenever the two of you are outside of the house, his hand is locked in yours. It could be hot and you could be sweaty, but your fingers would still be laced together. And he’ll kiss you when he pleases. If that just so happens to be when the gate opens and a car comes down the driveway, so be it.

Corey Cunningham

At the beginning of your relationship, he had absolutely no clue how to insinuate PDA. He didn’t even hardly know how to insinuate things when the two of you were alone. At first, it was nearly 100% up to you. To grab his hand and lace your fingers. To press a kiss to his cheek or his lips. To sit as snug as you could against his side and rest your head on his shoulder. Nowadays, after everything that happened and everything you’ve been through, he finds it much easier to grab you by the waist, pull you close to him and kiss you when someone is staring. After all, most people do— you were stunning and he knew even after all these years that he was the luckiest he could ever be to have you with him.

Mark Hoffman

He’s a jealous man. A possessive man. A protective man. There’s not a single thing or person in this world that he’s going to allow to hurt you. At this point in his life, you’re really all that he has. Therefore, he makes it clear to everybody that you’re not up for grabs. That you spend every night with him and all of his days off. He always holds your hand when you’re out. He always has his arm around your waist in a safe, protective manner. He has a strong stare, one not many dare to go against. Anybody eyeing you up quickly turns away. This goes along with his public kisses; he isn’t afraid to claim you as his own. Kissing your forehead sometimes, pressing a quick smooch to your hand, pulling you in by the waist and kissing your lips. Whether it be in a jealous manner or simply because he wants to, Mark doesn’t care too much about people finding his kissing you to be a burden.

Michael Myers

No. The two of you do not exist in the outside world together. Simply, no.

Pinhead

You’re hardly ever out with Pinhead. And if you are, it’s when the beings are causing mass destruction and bringing Hell to earth. In that case, he keeps you by his side, not wanting you to get caught in the crosshairs of what is to continue coming for the people in the town. However, he worries about you. The Cenobites are everlasting. But you— you’re a mere mortal with little means to protect yourself. Therefor, you spend a good majority of your time with Pinhead. Kept safe from harms way by the Cenobites and close to your very own being. However, Pinhead is unused to human affection; you need to teach him what it’s like to feel a person again. Holding hands in public is something that is common. Kissing— well, it’s hard enough as it is in private…

[cissyenthusiast010155]

heya, i absolutely love your writing. seriously, it’s amazing!!

so i was wondering if i could request a larissa scenario where the reader can shapeshift. i was wondering if they could do it in a semi-public area eg car sex or event bathroom. maybe have larissa tease them publicly? eg. stroking their thigh, maybe even sitting on reader (non sexual but still in a teasing manner).

it could go as: larissa has to go to an event, can bring wife so she does. she keeps teasing r all night long and then r just can’t take it anymore.

Hi hi hi anon! Absolutely!! I love this idea 🥰 Thank you for your request, and thank you for your patience. Hope you Enjoy ♥️

Dinner Party Deals ~Larissa Weems xFem Wife!Shapeshifter!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smutty smut smut, shapeshifting d!cks (g!p), Hand jobs, blow jobs, d!ck riding, car sex, restroom sex, semi-public sex, teasing, pet names, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Oh Darling, Please do come with me…” Larissa cooed, batting her eyes at you.

“To the Mayor’s campaign dinner party…?” You clarified, displaying your disinterest.

“Yes. It would be far more enjoyable with you there…” she promised, stepping closer to you and caressing your check, “And… I’ll make it worth your while when we get back home…” she husked.

Shivers ran down your spine as you gazed into her piercing blue eyes.

How could you deny this woman anything?

“Ok…” you managed to say, nodding in agreement.

Larissa then stepped back, clasping her hands together.

“Wonderful! Well, we’ll need to get dressed and leave soon if we plan to be on time…” the blonde exclaimed, then mumbled.

You nodded along and smiled.

“And one more thing, Darling…” she spoke, her tone becoming hushed.

“What…?” You curiously asked.

Larissa’s lips suddenly kissed yours for what felt like a fraction of a second, pulling away until she was mere inches from your skin.

“I want you packing tonight…” she whispered mischievously, before pulling away.

You blushed and nodded, rendered semi-speechless once again.

“I… alright.” You stammered.

Larissa smiled brightly at your agreement.

You two then finished your separate work, before you started getting dressed. You out on your go-to suit and waited for Larissa downstairs. You also shapeshifted your core as your wife had requested. Larissa then came down. She was wearing a stunning blue, wrap around dress. Your eyes couldn’t get enough. It hugged her curves in all the right way.

“Oh my…” you breathed out, your heart already racing “you look… breath taking, just beautiful…”

Larissa blushed at your words, coming over to give you a thank you kiss.

“Thank you, Darling.” She purred, “Although I’m sure you cannot wait to take it off of me later this evening…” she breathed huskily down your neck.

Chills ran down your spine at the blonde’s words. Sparks of electricity washed over you and right down to your currently very apparent member. You cleared your throat and regained your composure, and you were ready to go, trying to play your reaction off as nothing.

But Larissa knew she had gotten to you…

The drive wasn’t so bad at first. You were driving while Larissa gave you the download on who would be there. But quite quickly, it became harder and harder to concentrate as her hand began to wander and draw circle on your thigh.

“—And of course the Sheriff will be there, along with…” she continued, but your mind wasn’t paying much attention, as her fingers had toyed their way to your underwear line.

Your crotch was slowly bulging. It made you blush furiously, and Larissa smirked wickedly. But before Larissa went any further than teasing or you had time to start begging her, you had arrived. You had to take a deep breath and regain your calm before exiting the vehicle and entering the dinner party.

Larissa and you walked in together, arms linked. She led you around the party, introducing you to all the important and key figures that she thought you ought to know. And then it was time for dinner. You all sat down at the many tables. You and Larissa were sat with four other individuals at your table. The mayor got up to give his speech, which you originally had planned to listen to…

Before Larissa started playing scandalous footsie with you. Your breath hitched as her feet began to explore you legs, moving her touch higher and higher. Then she added her hand to your thigh again. The combination made you lightly dizzy and you had to bite your lip to restrain yourself.

And then the dinner conversation began… That brought a whole other level of challenge to the evening. And throughout all table conversations, Larissa never once let up on her under the table teasings. Her hand had traveled to you growing bulge at one point, nearly making you choke on your wine.

“Are you alright, Darling…?” Larissa concerningly asked you, placating her entire face in an innocent mask, while continuing to palm your twitchy, clothed member.

“I… Yes, sorry…” you choked out, trying to remember to take deep breaths, while giving your wife the side eye in warning.

Luckily, the dinner party soon moved into a lounge room with chairs and more open space. You took the time to breath and clear your head as best you could. You sat down, undoing your blazer button, with a sigh. But you didn’t get much peace, as the next thing you know, Larissa and a couple other high places people come in your direction. Without warning, Larissa sits on top of you.

“And this is my lovely wife, Y/N!” The blonde principal exclaimed, slightly tipsy.

They were all tipsy and didn’t seem to mind her bold action, viewing it as a sweet thing. But your eyes widened and you gulp, desperately trying to stay calm. Much to any of the other guests ignorance, Larissa’s ass was grinding down on your thrumming member. You could barely breathe. Your eyes were so close from rolling back, and a sinful groan was seconds from escaping your throat.

“Emm…” you coughed in interruption of the conversation that Larissa was carrying with the other guests, “You must excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” You explained with a tight strain in your voice.

Larissa’s eyes shimmered wickedly at your words, but she continued to to play innocent.

“Oh of course, Darling!” She said, immediately getting off of you, “Don’t mean to keep you” she said with a mischievous and knowing smirk.

You nod lightly, before scurrying out of the room. You walked the halls of the town hall, desperately looking for the restroom and thankfully finally finding it. Luckily it was a only stall, one person bathroom.

You shut the door and locked it, before immediately undoing your trousers, pulling out your aching dick, and stroking it a couple times. Your eyes rolled back and your sighed in relief. You had to bite your lip to keep quiet, but it was so worth it. Your pre-cum was already dribbling down your cock, getting your hands all sticky, but you could care less, as you worked yourself up with ease. Suddenly a loud rapture on the restroom door made you jump.

“Darling…” Larissa purred, “I know you are in there, let me in.”

You panted, quickly putting your dick away and cleaning up yourself before answering the door. With the door open, Larissa came forward, backing you into the bathroom. Her eyes raked up and down your frame. Your pupils were dilated. You were panting. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands clammy.

“Doing something…?” She teasingly purred, backing against the door to close it and lock it.

“I… just using the restroom…” you breathed out anxiously.

Larissa hummed skeptically in response. She began moving towards you again, trapping you against the wall.

“Your fly is undone, Darling…” she wickedly quipped, tilting her head and smirking, “Let me fix that for you…”

Oh Shit…

Before you could say anything else, your wife had already undone your trouser button, and her hand was deep in your pants, palming your throbbing dick. You let out a desperate groan in response to Larissa’s actions, your head smashing against the wall as you grinded needily against her hand.

“Ohhhh… Is this what you want…?” Larissa teased, now haven taken your member fully out and stroking it, not holding back anymore.

“God Larissa please…” you pleaded with your eyes screwed shut.

“Nuh uh uh…” she tutted in reminder, “Eyes open, Darling.”

You groaned once more and opened your eyes, meeting the blonde’s lustful, playful gaze. Her hand stroked your shapeshifted dick faster. And her face told you how much pleasure and how much she got off on this…

“Please please please…” you chanted, begging the woman.

“Alright… How about this…?” Larissa tauntingly purred in your ear, “I’ll let you cum once right here and in return… you suck me off in the car”

Your stomache dropped at her words. That was even more public… What if you got caught? You’d never had sex in the car before… But God, did you want to cum so badly!!

“Yes yes deal…!!” You groaned, nodding vigorously.

Larissa smiled big at your words. Her hand tightened its hold on your cock, making you have to bite down and muffle the guttural groan that ripped through your throat, as you came all over your wife’s hand. Your whole body was thrumming with pleasure. Your mouth hung open in satisfaction, and your dick went silent, obviously very satisfied with the outcome of the last 15 minutes. Shapeshifting back to you normal cunt gave you a relief and the ability to sigh in content.

“Excellent…” The blonde lustfully hummed, while helping you over and back down from your high.

The woman then helped you clean up, as well as herself, and the two of you went back out to the party. You two were quick to excuse yourselves when it seemed for to do so, as you both had more pressing concerns. Larissa eagerly led you by hand back to the car. You both got in, breathless.

By now, you could see Larissa’s apparent bulge… You gulped and stared wide eyed the woman sitting in the driver seat next to you. The blonde looked at you expectantly, but when you didn’t do anything, she took matters into her own hands. She easily picked you up and placed you at her feet, slipping her dress up to her thighs, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any knickers… As well as her own apparent dick.

You instinctually licked your lips at the sight. You got up on your knees and immediately licked a stripe from the base to the tip, catching some of her salty pre-cum. Larissa’s head flew back almost violently, as she let quite the sinful moan slip from her lips. You stopped licking her cock to remind her to keep it down.

“Shhhh, Darling… I like you better with a mouthful of my cock…” Larissa groaned.

You nearly moaned at your wife’s words, your own cunt starting to collect slick. You then took the blonde’s dick into your mouth all the way, in one fall swoop. You nearly chocked at its size.

“Breathe, Sweet girl…” Larissa reminded you, followed by a desperate, guttural moan, “God—! You look so pretty sucking me off…!!”

You moaned in response, starting to bob up and down on her dick. Larissa’s hand weaved into your hair, pushing you down only further. You remembered to breathe many times, as the woman nearly brought you to the chocking point many times, guiding you in a brutal pace. Larissa breathed heavily, at this point, jerking her hips and fucking your mouth sloppily.

“D-darling… Mmmm gonna cum…!!” Larissa groaned loudly.

You groaned in response, only quickening your pace, and encouraging the blonde to let go. Larissa came with her loudest cry yet, squirting her hot seed into your mouth. You licked the woman clean, as she slowly gathered her bearings. She eventually released your head from her vice grip. You then looked up at Larissa, mouth full of cum.

Larissa chuckled, bringing one of her fingers to your chin, wiping the excess cum off of it and stuffing it in your mouth. You moaned at the action, and she chuckled.

“Swallow. Don’t waste any of it.” The blonde told you.

You immediately obeyed and swallowed the entire load.

“Good girl…” Larissa breathlessly husked.

Your stomache sunk at her words. And your breath hitched.

“Yes…” you panted, “I’m your good girl…”

Larissa gazed down at you in delight.

“Take your trousers and knickers off, sweet girl…” she purred.

“I… um ok.” You stammered, getting up and shimmying your bottom half of clothing off.

When you were half nude, you presented yourself to the blonde. She smirked and picke you up, placing you on her lap.

“Such a good girl…” Larissa cooed, before lining up your slick cunt with her soaked cock and slowly sinking you down on her member, “But you’ll have to try and be quiet, Darling…”

You batted your eyelashes heavily and your eyes rolled back at her actions.

“Says the woman who just cried out because of my mouth… Ohhhhh…” you chuckled which quickly turned into a guttural groan.

Larissa looked at you, taking your words as a challenge. She then pulled you all the way down on her, abruptly bottoming you out.

“Oh Fuck GOD SHIT—!!!” You practically screamed, clinging onto Larissa for dear life.

The blonde chuckled in response, clearly happy with her work. She then began slamming up into you. This only made your cries of pleasure worse.

“You were saying…?” She eagerly teased.

“Shut up…” you grumbled, “and go harder.”

“My pleasure, Darling…” Larissa moaned into your ear.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[boyincel]

DATE WITH DEATH

hi :3 I wanted to finally publicly share somewhere a little passion project of mine!

date with death is a fictional slasher franchise invented by me! I’ve never really considered it to be an oc universe, more like movies that existed in an alternate universe, so it is meant to be as period accurate/realistic as possible. it has a tiny fandom of my friends but is always open to more members :) under the cut I’ll talk more about it and my plans. I will be talking about it like it exists so mild warning for unreality if that kind of thing bothers you

If you have any questions PLEASE ask away

date with death has three films, date with death (1995), date with death 2: summer break (1997), date with death 3: school reunion (2005).

the films revolve around a masked killer with no name, but sometimes referred to as john doe or nicknamed masky, as he wears a prom suit and a white bird/plague masquerade mask. in the films, masky stalks and picks off various popular teenagers in cliques in a twisted display of love

date with death: in the days leading up to prom in a small town, teenagers in a popular clique are getting mysteriously picked off, their bodies displayed in strange and grotesque ways. as the teens fight amongst themselves, revealing petty rivalries and secrets, can they come to their senses in time to make it to prom, or will the killer find his perfect prom date?

date with death: summer break: gracie returns to her old town to take care of her ill mother over summer break, and with the killer dead there should be no threat, right? when more murders begin, gracie tries to leave, but finds herself stranded. will she be able to face her past at the biggest party the teens of the town have to offer, or will her killer return to take her as his prom queen?

date with death: school reunion: past memories bring gracie back to her highschool for the ten year school reunion. despite living a peaceful life now, her old friends missing at the event stir up former fears, and that night she goes to dig up the killer’s grave just to make sure. to her horror, it’s empty. the killer is back, and he’s picking off all the popular, bitchy, self absorbed no-longer-teens he missed the first time around. will gracie finally escape the killer from her past, or will it be til death that they part?

some other stuff!!!

the DWD franchise also has a graphic novel based around april fools and one based around valentines day. i have various trivia about the behind the scenes of the films and also about the fandom surrounding the movies. I have details about all the characters in the first movie and the actors that play them, and some details about the songs in the film (more notably, I think we’re alone now by Tiffany plays in an iconic scene in the first film)

future plans!

I really want to write up actual full film scripts off the films and potentially novel adaptations since the full plots exist only in my brain right now! I wanna draw thumbnails of shots I have in my brain and I have a film nerd boyfriend who wants to help me with some photography and short segments of filming! I doubt I’ll ever create it fully in the way that it is in my head but it’s an ongoing dream of mine :)

I’ll elaborate more on this if asked!! I may post random stuff on this blog like it exists so uhhh yeah! feel free to join the date with death fandom!!!!!

[schraubd]

Jews Against Jews Who Discriminate

This is an interesting story about a New Jersey kosher bakery who refused to bake rainbow-frosted cupcakes because the baker decided Pride-themed events violated his conception of Jewish values. This decision, in turn, has led to a furious backlash from the rest of the local Jewish community, who are livid that the baker is citing Jewish values as justification for homophobic discrimination:

Multiple rabbis have accused the baker of bigotry, and some local Jews are boycotting his shop. The area’s Jewish federation privately said it would stop buying from Mittel before publicly walking back its position. And Eshel, an advocacy group for LGBTQ Orthodox Jews and their families, announced an “ally training” in West Orange this coming Sunday in response to the incident.

[....] 

The issue blew up as other rabbis in the area learned about what happened and commented publicly.

“When we refuse basic Jewish services to members of our community who are articulating who they are, we are excluding and dividing,” wrote Robert Tobin, rabbi of the Conservative B’nai Shalom in West Orange, in a blog post on June 22. He highlighted the Conservative movement’s recent strides toward LGBTQ inclusion, and an interpretation of the Torah that holds “humans are created in the image of God with a variety of potential gender identities and with the possibility of gender fluidity.” Tobin also reportedly addressed the incident in a sermon, according to the New Jersey Jewish News.

David Vaisberg, senior rabbi at the independent Temple B’nei Abraham in Livingston, New Jersey, tweeted that he was “so disappointed” in the bakery, which is located in a strip mall next to a kosher Chinese restaurant.

“They make great baked goods but have shown themselves to be against the LGBTQ+ in canceling orders of rainbow baked goods in Pride month,” he wrote, adding that he was letting the bakery know why they had lost his business and advised followers to “please do the same.” 

This reminded me of a working paper I heard about from years back (which I don't believe has been published, unfortunately), where the author asked Jewish, Christian, and Muslim respondents to give their views regarding government accommodations for Jewish, Christian, or Muslim business owners who for religious reasons did not want to serve gay customers. The most fascinating finding, as I recall, was that Jews were least likely to support an accommodation if they were told it was a Jewish business seeking to discriminate.

At one level, that was a surprising finding -- we'd naturally expect Jews (like all other groups) to display some level of in-group bias, being more sympathetic to claims made by their coreligionists. But on another level, this result made perfect sense to me. Ask me in the abstract about whether business owners can claim a religious exemption from having to serve gay customers, and I'll generally answer no, but I'll acknowledge the important religious freedom and pluralism concerns blah blah blah. 

But if somebody asks to do that while carrying my flag and representing my people? Oh, hell no. Screw that guy. You get your ass back into line and stop embarrassing the tribe with your homophobic nonsense. And I suspect something similar is going on in this community of New Jersey Jews.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/MnOubxC

[rejectedfables]

@kuntya​ tags on this post

I FEEL like you’re trying to wrap your head around the post, rather than flat out disagreeing with it. Here’s my recommended thinking points to help you out:

“He doesn’t have to obey his father or stay with the Jin Sect”

Jin Guangyao lives in a society wherein filial piety and filial respect/devotion is paramount. He is expected to be devoted to his parents and do as they say, and he will be publicly reviled if he doesn’t. Could he have simply never connected with his father? Sure, but he had no way of knowing how bad it would go, and once he DID connect it was too late to back out. (I’ll elaborate on this point later)

Jin Guangyao loved his mother, and her living AND dying wish was for him to be recognized by his father. Devotion to his mother’s wishes drives his devotion to his father. 

Jin Guangyao lives in a society that HATES HIM because of his mother’s profession, no matter what he does. If they hate him when he’s doing everything “appropriately” they would treat him even worse if he openly broke the rules of society.

Jin Guangyao spends his entire life feeling (and BEING) unsafe because of how people view him due to his mother’s profession. His actions, which would have been understood as necessary and good were any member of the gentry to have performed them, are questioned and condemned because they were his. 

When I say he spent his whole life being unsafe, I mean it. He went from the absolute bottom of society to the absolute top, and was NEVER safe. The entire society turned on him and he was literally killed WHILE he was holding the highest position in society. He feels unsafe, AND HE’S NOT WRONG.

Being Jin Guangshan’s son DID give him a modicum of protection that he didn’t otherwise have. It put him in a position to be abused by Madam Jin, and be reviled by people who knew his background, but it also offered him SOME protections he didn’t otherwise have. He is ONLY afforded these protections while following his father’s orders and displaying appropriate filial devotion. By the time he has been recognized as his father’s son, it is too late to escape the dangerous parts of this, but any wrong move would have revoked the protections. 

“He could just go be Lan Xichen’s live in boyfriend”

Even if you just mean “he could have just joined the Lan sect and Lan Xichen would have taken care of him”, please revisit the filial piety points, and additionally consider that after a certain point, Jin Guangyao knew damning secrets about Jin Guangshan. JGS would have reasonably considered JGY going to the Lan sect to be a threat, and might have retaliated against either JGY or even the Lan sect itself.

Jin Guangyao grew up watching sex workers be mistreated by the people they relied on, and was then repeatedly mistreated by people HE relied on (his superior officers, his father, his father’s wife, etc.). Relying on others for safety does not feel safe to Jin Guangyao, because historically it has not been. 

And if you DO mean literally being with Lan Xichen romantically/sexually: Jin Guangyao lives in a society that is broadly homophobic, so even if he WANTED to be a “stay at home boyfriend” that would have probably messed up Lan Xichen’s life/position AS WELL as his own, and Lan Xichen’s happiness matters a lot to him.

Jin Guangyao was trapped in a traumatizing marriage -- he WANTED to marry her right up until learning The Bad Information, but at that point if he’d backed out he’d have been condemning her to his own mother’s fate of being an unwed mother reviled by society AT BEST, so he just never told anyone or touched her again and swallowed how awful the situation was. He took that all on himself and told NO ONE. But he also loathed his father’s infidelity, and therefore may have resisted seeking his own happiness because it would have been unfair to both his wife (none of it was her fault) and any potential lover he might take. 

Also having an affair with Lan Xichen would potentially cause the same “JGS sees this as a threat” situation mentioned above, while he lived. 

The heads of two sects being romantically entangled can cause Political Problems. JGY already has so much trouble having anything he suggests or supports be taken seriously, and LXC is one of his best allies -- that would no longer be true if people could just say “Well, LXC is only agreeing with you because you’re fucking” as an easy way to dismiss anything they agree on.

Also, like... the guy has ambitions? He doesn’t WANT to be a house husband, he wants to IMPROVE SOCIETY, and that’s very cool and sexy of him actually? 

Saying essentially “Why didn’t he just settle for being a secret boytoy for a sect leader” is giving me extremely “Why didn’t he just become his mom? Why would he ever think he had any right to his father’s power? How dare he try to better his own life or anyone else’s” vibes. Please ponder this.

“Nie Mingjue is a cop and that makes him a moral authority” (yikes)

If laws are inconsistently enforced, then they are not about fairness or justice, they’re about enforcing classism. Also all cops are bastards, etc. so jot that down 

I’m being a tad facetious, yes, but also like... cops are NOT inherently morally upstanding, cops enforce oppression and cause terror, and if you are using them in a moral debate as pinnacles of virtue or beacons of morality then you are standing on a platform of crumbling sand.

Calling Nie Mingjue a cop IS big brained though, you’re absolutely right about that, he absolutely IS a cop, and Baxia is a metaphorical gun, welcome to my ted talk--

Nie Mingjue truly believes that his own actions are righteous while Jin Guangyao’s are criminal. This despite Jin Guangyao’s “crimes” being 1) calculated self defense after extensive mistreatment and 2) being a spy in a way that allowed him to win the war for everyone. 

(in the novel, by the way, he kills Wen Rouhan TO SAVE Nie Mingjue, and NMJ still manages to climb on a high horse about it because he doesn’t seem to understand how “being undercover” works. So chew on that.)

NMJ says “killing enemies on the battlefield doesn’t count” and JGY says “why not” and NMJ says “because I said so” because he’s a COP (again, being facetious, but the whole point is, they just have different perspectives on morality but only NMJ’s is given any credibility by society because society loves his cop ass, and hates JGY no matter what he does)

There’s something really interesting to explore about how NMJ’s WHOLE ISSUE is not really “you committed crimes” but rather “I have been faced with the reality that I CANNOT TELL when you’re being genuine vs duplicitous, and therefore I HAVE to ALWAYS assume that you are lying, because I will never know for sure, and what if I’m wrong--” and therefore THERE IS NOTHING Jin Guangyao can do that will EVER make ANYTHING right with NMJ. And that has nothing to do with his actual actions being criminal. 

Nie Mingjue gets to commit as many crimes and/or kill as many people as he wants, and he will always see it as justifiable because he understands why he did it, and that makes it okay. He doesn’t understand why Jin Guangyao does what he does, and that makes JGY’s actions unjustifiable to NMJ.

The things NMJ condemns JGY for were 1) killing his superior officer, who NMJ sent him to against his wishes and who was mistreating him and repeatedly sending him on suicide missions. JGY did this as calculated self defense. 2) being SNEAKY about killing that guy and not TURNING HIMSELF IN after. Calculated self defense would be dumb if you get executed right after. NMJ wouldn’t have been executed for this crime so he doesn’t get it, but JGY absolutely would have and knows it. 3) killing soldiers on Wen Rouhan’s orders while undercover. 4) Saying mean shit about NMJ’s dad while undercover. 5) Encouraging Huaisang to pursue art when NMJ only wanted him AT THE GUN RANGE at saber training. 6) Not letting NMJ kill Xue Yang, which would have been against JGS’s orders (and therefore would have BEEN a crime).

3,4 5, and 6 are, um. Legal? Like, those are all understandable even legally. 

1 and 2 are understandable morally, if you’re not a privileged classist cop.

Additional Thoughts

The reason the audience is biased towards Nie Mingjue’s perspective is because Wei Wuxian is biased towards Nie Mingjue’s perspective. We see everything that happened through a spell called EMPATHY, which 1) we’re told in canon is a risky and overwhelming spell that is not recommended. and 2) Whenever Wei Wuxian does uses Empathy, he ends up 10000% agreeing with the person he has EMPATHIZED with. We are shown Nie Mingjue’s perspective, which IS BIASED, via the spell that might as well be called BIAS. But even GIVEN that, by the end of the book Wei Wuxian himself thinks “Oh wow, what’s happening to Jin Guangyao right now (being turned into a villain for other’s moral convenience, then dying for it) is exactly what happened to me, this sucks”

Also: yes, Nie Mingjue is absolutely abusing him. In the Villainous Friends extra it’s implied that Jin Guangyao often has bruises, and the two culprits are Madam Jin and Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue is CONSTANTLY threatening his life, AND kicks him down a very long flight of stairs. These are not government approved punishments for convicted crimes (a situation that may or may not be morally right but would at least be legal), they’re one sworn brother violently taking out his anger and distrust on another in a longstanding abusive relationship. Jin Guangyao WAS NOT arrested. He was not “arrested by a cop” he was just being abused by someone who felt morally righteous in performing said abuse. Nie Mingjue ABSOLUTELY IS “~abusing~” him, as well as ABUSING him (no ~~s necessary).

If a cop spends YEARS threatening to murder an ex undercover agent, in private while off duty, because he doesn’t like what said undercover agent had to do while undercover, routinely physically assaulting him, and no one does anything to protect said undercover agent despite everyone knowing what’s going on-- at some point self defense DOES become appropriate. I’d personally say Jin Guanyao waited LONGER than he needed to to reach that point.

Hope this helps, ACAB, also I love your icon. Fuck yeah psyduck 

[catboybiologist]

I'm going to document some things about my transition, and I want feedback about what to record!

As you can probably tell from my previous joke post, I’m about to start MtF HRT! There’s one thing that I want community feedback on, however. As a biologist, I want to document my transition in detail, and I’m going to be making a data spreadsheet to keep track of some key metrics. But I want to know something from y’all, the trans community here! Before I start taking HRT, I want to have an extensive list of what I should measure, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything. If there’s any metric you are curious to see documented in a single person from the start of HRT onwards, please let me know!

The ones that I already know I want to include are:

Medical metrics (still undecided if/when I want to post these around for privacy)

Dose of each drug taken

Administration route of each drug taken

T levels (when available)

E levels (when available)

Body metrics (my body is on display with pics here anyways so might as well)

Height

Weight

Band

Bust

Waist

Hip (measured from thickest point around hips/thighs)

Shoulder spread

Qualitative notes

Skin quality/softness

Body and facial hair growth notes

Mood and emotional shifts

Libido

Potential side effects and brain fog

Pictures (less likely to be consistent about this but I’ll try. Some will be public, but a lot will be for my own purposes or sharing among friends.)

Face picture with mask (public)

Full front body picture, short shorts/underwear and sports bra (public)

Full side profile, masked, short shorts/underwear and sports bra (public)

Neutral face picture, maskless (private, may post later)

Nude full body front picture (private)

Nude side profile (private)

Unclothed chest (private, may post later)

I plan to take each of these on about a monthly basis. I want to make as much of this information as publicly accessible as possible, obviously within privacy limits. The most likely option is that I’ll record this from the start, but I’ll post the information itself at a lag. Please let me know if there’s anything else you want to see documented in this way! Or, of course, anything you wish you think would be useful or fun for myself to see, even if I don't record it publicly.

For reference, I had my initial blood taken earlier this month at a consultation appointment, and will have my appointment to get the actual prescription late next week. So lmk what you think!

I’m gonna make at least one other post about trans stuff, but I also want to emphasize that I’m going to be taking this very slow. So mostly, I thought this data would be a fun way to keep track of changes when I get kind of “frog pot” about what’s going on.

[aemiron-main]

heyy so. just wondering what happened with will80sbyers bcs i'm so confused??

Hey, anon! Great question, I’m going to use this ask to properly lay it out, seeing as many people (Dani included) seem determined to distort what actually happened. So, with that said:

What Happened Recently With Dani/ Will80sByers ?

I don’t really care anymore but I’m just going to just lay all of it out simply because I’m sick of being accused of saying/doing things that I didn’t do and also sick of watching Dani play the victim & continuing to double down on her gross comments as usual. Also I’m using screenshots simply because I’m sick of playing a game of telephone with this & I’d rather just put the screenshots right there instead of trying to paraphrase 50 million different posts.

So, it started here, when Dani made this post: 

And look, I deeply disagree with that post (as I do with many of the posts of Dani’s that are going to be in that post), but that post wasn’t the issue (I’ll explain what the actual issue was in a second). And then, after Dani posted that, she got multiple anons (which, we'll also come back to Dani's responses to these anons in a second because that ties into my actual issue with Dani):

First anon:

Second anon:

Third anon:

Fourth anon:

And then Dani posted this:

And then Dani doubled down on this post in her replies:

I was sent screenshots of this post about rape forgiveness and of some of the previous anons since a.) it involved Edward etc and later b.) it involved Henry analysts being accused of being rapist apologists. I saw the anons before I saw the rape apologist post. And then Dani got this anon:

This anon claims to known “exactly” who is sending the anons and goes off about a bunch of stuff, and then Dani got this anon:

Accusing me of having sent this anon:

Which, is it just me or is it interesting that the original anon and the anon accusing me of having sent the original anon both have a very similar typing style, and that the person accusing me of sending it was super quick to point out things like the use of the word “rancid” which is supposedly an indication that I wrote the ask?

Like, is it not a bit odd that the second anon just immediately picked up on that? It’s almost like both anons were written by the same person, some person who clearly has some sort of issue with me and wants to make it seem like I was going onto Dani’s blog to start shit.

Whether people believe me or not, I know that I didn’t send that anon to Dani, so I’d love to know who did. It’s either somebody super passionate about Edward (which is a super tiny group of people), or, it’s somebody passionate about disliking me. If I wanted to criticize Dani’s analysis/takes on Henry/whatever, I would simply do so publicly, as I always have.

It’s funny to me that people will criticize me so often for being upfront about this stuff/”namedropping”/specifically for NOT doing things anonymously, but then as soon as anonymous stuff pops up, I’m the main suspect?? Make up your minds, please! 

And anyway, that brief tangent aside, Dani also got this anon:

And for some reason, people were super upset that I “namedropped” Dani. Which I really don’t understand- she has a name/username that she displays publicly, and these are posts that she posted publicly. I don’t understand why it’s such a big issue to “namedrop” somebody regarding posts that they made publicly. I personally find the vaguing and dancing and around issues without ever saying names far more frustrating. If you’re willing to post something publicly under your public name/username that you choose to display on your blog, why is it such an issue for somebody to name you when discussing said post?? It’s not like I broke into her house and pulled the post out of a secret safe under her floorboards 😭😭

And it’s also funny as hell that Dani uses the word “spying” in this context because a.) people were dm’ing me the shit that she said, I wan’t “spying” on a damn thing and b.) even if i did go onto her blog, in what world is going onto somebody’s public blog with their public posts “spying”? It’s clear that Dani was just grasping at straws in an attempt to avoid addressing the actual issues at hand (her gross comments).

Dani claims that she was just “saying her opinion on a character,” and the anon says that I was shittalking Dani for her takes on Henry. Which, again, both of them are ignoring the actual issue here. Do I think that Dani’s takes on Henry are factually incorrect, deeply biased, and -gasp- even stupid? Yes. Would I have bothered making all of the posts that I did/would I have been as upset as I was if the issue was simply Dani having bad takes about Henry? NO!!!!!

Dani having bad takes and, specifically, having bad takes about Henry is nothing new. Sky is blue, grass is green, I think Dani’s takes on Henry and on the rest of the show are factually incorrect and heavily biased, as I always have. That wasn’t the key issue here.But as previously mentioned what I was actually upset about was: 

a.) Dani comparing Henry analysis to rape sympathizers & saying that we would “probably forgive IRL rape” and also saying that would be “nazi sympathizers

b.) Dani making posts re: Henry where she made comments about people dealing with personality disorders in real-life and where she didn’t bother backing up any of her claims about “people who just want to kill people,” with any actual medical facts or actual disagnoses/actual facts about those diagnoses, and instead, relied on her surface-level opinions of Henry and his behaviour in the show to say that he had a personality disorder that just makes him want to kill people and then used THAT and Henry’s behaviour in the show to draw conclusions about real-life people with personality disorders.

It came across as weird and stigmatizing and ableist on Dani’s part, hence why I was upset by it. And hell, it wasn't even a Huge Issue at first. just ignorant and weird on Dani's behalf and, I just made a minor bitchpost about it, most of which was in the tags no less, and then the rapist/nazi comments were the big issue.

When it comes to the ableism, these three posts/responses of Dani’s were the ones I had an issue with:

1.)

2.)

3.)

The issues I have with these posts & why it comes across as ableist to me was that Dani never actually names this mysterious murderer personality disorder. She simply uses “personality disorder” as a stand-in to encompass all of Henry's traits (many of which are simply harmless autistic traits) and as far as I can tell, never actually named a specific personality disorder, and instead, just kept lumping all of Vecna's supposed crimes (rape, murder, etc) under some ambiguous serial murderer personality disorder. Dani also talked in one of those responses about Henry being born with a lack of empathy and that being tied to his personality disorder that makes him kill people which, not only is that a false claim about Henry (which isn't the point/issue here bc again I expect that from Dani), but it's also stigmatizing and weird/ableist to throw around a lack of empathy as being tied to the reason why he supposedly ends up as a murderer (dani also then tries to say he was born neutral and all his actions are just conscious choice which is weird considering that she Just connected his actions/murders to being the result of a lack of empathy without any actual evidence to support this and further stigmatizing anyone that's low-empathy. ) My main point is that it's definitely veering into ableism and hatred, specifically when Dani's talking in the context of real-life people, to never actually name a specific disorder, and instead just seemingly invent some sort of magical personality disorder that makes you a.) murder people and b.) unable to hold a conversation and also just seems to lump all personality disorders together. AGAIN, it wasn't even a huge issue at first, just annoyance with Dani's ignorance/her getting into ableism territory while acting morally superior, and the big issue was the rapist/nazi comments.

And Dani's response to criticism of ableism was as follows:

And regarding this, I know that Dani never outright said that all people with personality disorders enjoy killing people, but she IS claiming that people with personality disorders enjoy killing people & just using "personality disorders" as a lump term/she's coming very close to claiming that all people with personality disorders do. She literally just uses "personality disorder/personality disorders" as her reason for Henry/Vecna's crimes without ever actually providing an actual disorder or evidence. She IS lumping them together. It's right there in those anon responses from earlier. And I already talked in another post (way before any of this drama/not connected to Dani) re: why what we read in the scripts isn't some Inherent Truth, and that's neither here nor there because I'm not here to go through everything that's incorrect lore-wise/analysis wise in Dani's responses because i'd be here all day. I'm just trying to point out what the Actual Issue was re: ableism (which I just made one annoyed post about and the rest of my pissed off posting was regarding the rape apologist comment from dani so its not even like the ableism thing was a Massive Huge Issue at first), and the actual issue re: ableism and dani was the way that Dani just lumps all personality disorders together/uses "personality disorder" as this weird nebulous scapegoat for all sorts of crimes. And regarding, that one small annoyed initial post I made, this was it:

And it was specifically about Dani making things up about Henry and Edward re: some mythical magical personality disorder that they supposedly have that makes them want to kill people, and I was frustrated with the ableism involved in that.

And I also mention specifically in the tags of said post that this was regarding the the ableism (as I hadnt’ seen the rapist post yet), and how this wasn’t just a matter of me disagreeing with Dani/her having bad takes/how that wasn't the core issue but specifically a matter of the ableism and Dani acting morally superior while also continuing to use personality disorders as this nebulous scapegoat term.

And later on, as I mentioned earlier, Dani made this post: 

Which, is pretty self explanatory, so then not only was I annoyed/bitchposting about Henry analysts being lumped in with rape apologists, but also about the comparison to nazi sympathizers. LIke. Come on. Dani sat there and complained about people "sending her mean anons over a tv show" while also calling people rapist and nazi apologists over a tv show. Personally, I'd take the mean anons any day.

So, long story short, anon- it was a shitshow. My actual issue was never Dani’s poorly done analysis/bad takes on Henry- my key issue was with Henry analysts being accused of forgiving IRL rapists & being compared to Nazi sympathizers simply for analyzing a character in a TV show.

And yet, Dani and all her asskissing anons continue to dodge the point (as usual) act like all of my frustration was simply because she doesn’t like Henry/because she disagrees with Henry analysis.

It’s annoying as all hell to watch Dani play the victim while missing the actual issue & acting like she’s being “harassed for sharing her opinion on a character,” when the actual issue at hand was her gross comment about rape apologism, her gross comment about nazi sympathizing, and her weird/very much bordering on ableist by being so broad & lacking actual evidence comments about personality disorders.

It’s especially annoying since if anyone harasses other people for sharing their opinions on characters it’s Dani accusing people of being biphobic when they disagree with her bi mike analysis, and Dani’s whole group of asskissing anons.

A few months back, I had to shut down my anon box entirely because I was just getting constant anons specifically regarding Dani and her posts & calling me biphobic for making gay Mike analysis/for criticizing literally any aspect of any bi Mike analyses and claiming that I was just being “misogynistic and biphobic” despite hilariously never actually being able to point to which of my claims were supposedly misogynistic or biphobic. And I also had some anons making comments about me being trans and how that must tie into internalized misogyny and biphobia and how I must not actually understand gay mens’ experiences and therefore it’s wrong for me to bring up gay mens’ experiences since I’m apparently just actually a bi girl who has internalized misogyny and biphobia, and not a gay trans dude. (I just ended up deleting/blocking those anons because the last thing I needed was ANOTHER round of terfs getting wind of it and hounding my blog, esp since this was in my earlier days on tumblr where I wasn't as comfortable with confrontation as I am now/didn't have a backup of my blog incase something happened, but now I wish I had them because it was rlly Smthn to say over to someone over st discourse)

And while it would be unfair to pin those anons on Dani specifically, as they’re anonymous and I don’t know who sent them, and while I’m not saying she sent them as I don’t actually think she did, they were definitely defending her/her analysis, and so it’s ironic to see the same sort of Dani stan anons who sent ME hateful stuff over my opinions on a character coddling Dani because somebody criticized her ableist remarks and her rape and nazi apologism remarks. 

And those same sort of anons also kept telling me to shut up and not post anymore/hollered about how bad my gay Mike posts are which I don't give a shit I'll make whatever posts I want but again, just. Ironic. Considering how many of her anons were upset that Dani was being "silenced and harrassed".

And I’m far from the same person who’s dealt with bitchy anons tied directly to Dani’s fans/stans/little group, whatever you want to call it. Dani is well-known ATP for throwing biphobia accusations at anyone who disagrees with her analysis, so it seems like many of her comments about people (such as me) being unable to handle differing opinions are nothing more than projection on her part.

Anyway! There’s a long rant, anon! I’m over it at this point, but figured it’d be a good idea to summarize it all here, seeing as Dani seems fixated on making herself the victim & twisting things around as usual, and I don’t appreciate being made into some sort of bad guy for something that isn’t true/because Dani and others insist on ignoring the reality of what my issue was/why I was upset and accusing me of “sending my hounds” to Dani’s inbox.

Which like. What hounds?? What legions of people at my disposal do people think I have?? If my hounds are listening, can you guys do my laundry or smthn?? Can we meet?? Kiss on the mouth maybe?? 

Even the ableist/weird remarks about personality disorders weren't That Big Of A Deal, just ignorant and dumb on Dani's part, and I just made ONE minor bitchpost on the topic initially, but then I started getting accused of sending anons that I didn't send, and THEN dani came out with the rapist and nazi posts and THAT'S what sparked my main bitchposting/criticism of her.

Anyway, I never sent anyone to Dani, I never sent a damn thing to Dani my own self, *Bill Clinton voice* I DID NOT HAVE ANONYMOUS RELATIONS WITH THAT BLOG!! 

Hope that finally clears things up for you and everyone else, anon.

(and also just as i was finishing this up, found out that dani as of this morning has apparently doubled down on the rape and nazi comments AGAIN. my god.)

[blackholesun321]

the mental illness can be called Abandoned Nesting Syndrome-and can usually occur in individuals who were abandoned either young or suddenly and traumatically like say,, a very prominent and very wanted crew breaking up and leaving the two young cabin boys to fend for themselves and assuming that they will be able to see eachother again only to watch the head of the flock be very publicly executed

and given how the would government acted at baterillia on just the rumor of roger having a child….

what do you think they would do when two young, (relatively) inexperienced members of his flock are flying free?

alone?

Ok I kinda went overboard with this one and wrote an entire Fic chapter for you. Idk if it’s any good but hopefully it conveys the absolute mess Shanks is as a person. And how much Mihawk loves him despite this— well there both huge messes. I’ll get into Mihawks neuroses at a later date but enjoy!

⛔️ WARNING⚠️ THIS CONTAINS MENTION OF GORE! DEATH! INFANT DEATH! DESCRIPTION OF SUICIDE! SELF HARMING! AND A DESCRIPTION OF A DISSOCIATIVE DELUSION MANIC EPISODE! If you are triggered by any of this DO NOT READ THIS WORK! I will mark the bit in red when it starts but you will be missing most of the chapter.

—————/—————————/—————————/———————/-

Summary ——Mihawk is visit the red force to show off his new murder child to his husband.

He instead comes upon an quiet ship, a smoking first mate and the terrible horrible feeling that something is wrong.

———

Mihawk knows somethings wrong.

Call it intuition, call it knowing his husband, call it noticing that the Red Force is never this quiet without something unusual happening, call it observation Haki.

Whatever it is, as Mihawk's coffin-sloop slides side by side with the giant bastardization between a long ship and a galleon, he can't help but brace himself for the worst.

He removes his hat to check yet again at the vivre card stuck in the band, the motion disturbing his cargo tucked up and held securely against his spine. There’s a shuffle and a small adjustment on Mihawk's part to allow a green head, mussed with sleep and disgruntlement, to poke itself out the top of his wing.

Zoro yawns, a mouth full of missing teeth on display before squinting up at the Red Force. A quiet "woah" on his exhale as the fledgling seems to try and lean back all the way, kicking the inside of Mihawk’s wing to look at the ship in its entirety.

“Your husband must be strong.”

Mihawk hums in acknowledgment, sliding his hat back into place upon seeing that once again the card was just as whole and ivory as before.

“Do you assume I would have married someone who wasn’t?” He wonders idly if he’d have to fly up, dreading the idea of leaving his fledg—student here alone. God knows the number of times Mihawk had had to keep him from walking straight off the bow and into the sea.

“No, but I bet he’s as much of a bastard.”

Now a cold nose and cheek are being rubbed into his shoulder, and lord above, Mihawk hopes Zoro isn’t wiping his nose on his jacket. Children, he has come to learn in the last weeks or so, are disgusting and won't hesitate to use you and anything near you as a hand towel.

“Language,” he can't help but admonish, as someone finally must have noticed his sloop and waves of subtle Haki he’d been sending out for the last fifteen minutes. (And now he knows something is up. Shanks would have never missed his Haki signature, not with him projecting it like a neon sign.) A ladder has started being lowered, and Mihawk mentally sighs at the thirty feet he’ll have to climb with a wriggling child tucked safely to his back.

“Try not to move so much or this will be uncomfortable for us both.” There’s a grumble and some twisting that has Mihawk mentally noting to himself and his student for a quick preening session after this is over. Two tiny arms snake around his neck and grab a handful of down. Scratch that; he’s going to need a long preening session. The ladder finally arrives, and Mihawk starts the long, arduous climb up his husband's ship.

———

It takes a second to reach the top, and by the time he does, both him and Zoro are absolutely done with the uncontrollable wind currents slapping them against the hull.

“Permission to board?” He huffs, already heaving himself and cargo over the rail before Benn has a chance to reply.

“Yeah-yeah, fucking welcome.”

Mihawk's wing has started to cramp from holding Zoro close to keep him from falling thirty feet into the sea. Witnesses and prone-to-getting-lost child be damned, he gives Zoro a warning shake before slowly stretching out the offending appendage.

Zoro, instead of plopping down like a normal considerate child, chooses instead to slide down Mihawk's body and puddle on the deck at his feet, grip still clutched in his pant leg.

“Never again, just let me take my chances on the ship next time,” the fledgling hisses as Mihawk lifts up his boot to try and detangle the child from his leg. It isn’t working. With an aborted sigh of a man learning to pick his battles, he gives his wing and boot one more good shake before giving in to his fate of his leg being clutched like a barnacle.

“I see you’ve been.. busy.” He could flip Beckman off and is incredibly tempted to do so, but knows that would only play into what his husband's first mate wants. No one could get under his skin faster, aside from maybe Shanks and the marines as a whole… and Doflamingo, but that was Doflamingo, and the man practically made it his life goal to live under others' skin. But bigger fish to fry, like the fact Benn is smoking. He never smokes unless something's up. Something big. And usually to do with his husband’s stupidity.

“Where is Shanks?” His eyes scanning the deck for red, bloody, and stark against the Red Force's maroon paneling. He finds nothing, and the panic he’s been suppressing goes from defcon 1 to defcon 1.5. His eyes slide back to Beckman, who winces, teeth chewing, sifting at the end of his cigarette.

“He ain’t hurt, Hawkeye, just… he’s a bit.” Beckman glances down at Zoro, who has taken the opportunity to curl up like a cat around Mihawk's boot and is most likely fast asleep.

“He’s been on a bit of a spree.” Spree could mean a number of things for Shanks. Benn was being circumstantial and oblique, and it was pissing Mihawk’s already small amount of patience into the wind.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s an episode, not…” He takes a minute to inhale cancer— and Mihawk wants to rip the cigarette out of his hand and make him get on with it, anxiety and pirate guest rights be damned.

“Obsessive.” Is what he finally lands on, and it’s something, it’s something. “Just all over the place en’ shit. Hasn’t hurt himself, I think? Hasn’t hurt anyone else.”

And that’s ok, not good but enough to make the fear in Mihawks chest curdle into something manageable. He can do this, he’s done this before, but a lot was happening right now, and Mihawk didn’t need—he already had a surprise to show Shanks in the form of his protégé. For someone like Shanks, being introduced to new flock, especially a fledgling, could exacerbate him into something worse.

“How far along is he? Is it just nesting, or is he trying to rearrange the cargo hold?” And Mihawk isn't trying to make light of the situation; Shanks has and will tear the ship apart if it doesn’t meet the unachievable standards his mind has conjured. But not obsessive, not this time— that’s not good; but means they probably won’t have an entire disaster on their hands.

“Not too far, started about a day or two ago. He's been locked in his cabin, hasn’t eaten, and refused to drink when I offered. Was about to call if— you know.” The ashes from Benn’s cigarette are flicked over the bow, and Mihawk appreciates that he made an effort for it to be downwind at least.

He forced himself to breathe and braces his heart. He loves his husband more than he thinks he’s ever loved anything, aside from swordplay, but these episodes can be hard on both of them. Especially if Uta was...

“Is Uta here?” He's going to have bruises from how hard he's pinching the bridge of his nose to stifle the migraine starting to build behind his eyes.

“Nah, dropped her off with Buggy a few days back. We’ve been looking for something to do with the government; didn’t want her involved.” Well, that's a relief. At least he won’t have to be fielding two children today.

Thinking of children, Mihawk's eyes glance back down to a definitely asleep fledgling, wings tucked up and over himself in a display of youthful flexibility that makes Mihawk's back twinge just to look at.

“May I leave my charge with you while I go... talk to Shanks?”

Benn shrugs. “No skin off my nose.” He’s already getting in his last few hits before he’ll have to pitch the cigarette over the side. Mihawk hopes the smell won’t be too much of a bother for Zoro.

It takes a second of removing surprisingly strong fingers from his pants leg before Mihawk is able to lift a still very asleep fledgling over to his husband's first mate's arms.

The boy's face scrunches for a second, feathers fluffing, and Mihawk worries he’ll wake before his protégé turns into Beckman's warmth and starts breathing shallowly again.

“I bet it's a hell of a story how you managed to adopt a fledgling,” Benn grins, gazing moving to the dead asleep boy curled to his chest. “-you, of all people.”

“He’s my protégé,” Mihawk corrects, fixing Zoro’s newly grown flight feathers from getting crushed and smoothing out the down.

“If you say so,” the bigger man chuckles. The only reason Mihawk doesn’t retaliate is that he’s an adult and can rise above the petty need to stab whatever displeases him on a day-to-day basis. If he did that, he’d be a widow several times over by now.

With one last shuffle of Zoro's wings, Mihawk nods once at his fledgling, once at Beckman, and he steals himself as he leaves to find whatever state his husband might be in.

———

Warning this is where shit gets real do not read beyond this point- if trigger by any of the thing wanted about above.

———

There are good days, you know?

Mostly good days now. It used to be bad days sometimes and good days another, and you learn to live with it. You learn— you don’t move on, but you move, and that's something.

It's mostly good days, but when the bad days come and hit like a hammer, it's hard to catch yourself before the fall.

It's not Luffy's fault. Well, it is kinda, but not entirely. It's Shanks' fault mostly. He's not good with kids; it's a rule of his. No kids on the force, no babies or children, just he can't, not him, not them, so small and fragile and—

He dreams at night, okay. He dreams, and they aren't good dreams. Those small, headless, limbless forms drip past his line of sight. They chant dead names and tiny insidious things that burrow beneath his skin, crawling like parasites into his brain.

Memories are funny things. Red had his memories and attachments, but those were nothing to Shanks; separation and repression. And well, ignorance was bliss. That empty murdered town was peaceful, in a way they hadn't felt since...

The square had been, in its own twisted way, the heave of bodies, the humidity, the perfect moment before the blades fell, and red and black feathers, falling with them. He's on the floor, nails in the wood, heaving, knots in his stomach, lamprey twisting up in knots under his skin; he can feel it.

He went, and he saw. Feathers, so much down, wings ripped from corpses, heads and bloated stomachs that popped like bursting overripe fruit, limbs, and burned mother and burn father and grandfathers and whole families, piles on piles.

And the screaming. screamingscreamingscreaming-

—the light skitters like a crab and the ground pools like blood—

No, like feathers, his hands are red and brown, full of feathers, blood just down. He pulls, and the pain shoots down to the marrow, painpainpain. Here, in ripped and ruined sheets

Here in his room. It’s not safe— it’s never safe. It’s never perfect, he tried he tried to make it perfect make it safe and they’re going to die the world is rotting under his finger tips, dripping dropping red-red-red and dead dead Dead!

There is no squeak as the door opens, no tell other than the barest ghost of the air around him shifting, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. A sudden wave of paranoia courses through him, and he can feel his silent appreciation shift. The whisperings in the back of his head grow conflicted, some enraged beyond reason, others whispering comforts and idealizations.

Ignoring them is second nature, but reality is just as cruel as his mind.

“Shanks? Are you.. Shanks.”

The screams of dead children echo through the room, and he absentmindedly picks at the flaking blood beneath his nubs of a thumbnail. “Shanks? Love, I’m going to touch you, ok?” That part of him that is Shanks revolts at its state, and the part that is Red laughs like cracking bones, telling him to pull them out. “Can you hear me love? Nod if you can hear—“ The part that is 13 is a gaping emptiness of nothing but grief-grief-anger-pain, and the part that is 15 screams, “Shanks? i need you to look at me ok I need-“ and the part that is 17 laughs with Red, digging down, down, down! And—

“SHANKS! STOP-“

He's spiraling again.

Shanks breathes or Red does, and there's blood dripping down his face, the nails of his left hand buried deep into the skin. He's here, there, now, and he isn't, but it's enough, maybe, to struggle back up above the screams.

He opens to see, he doesn’t want to look but— Gold and black and gold on black and gold within in gold, ringed and round and—

“Mihawk?”

Mihawk. Birds and flight and freedom, arms and swords and blood, blood rivers of blood— and pressure, hands over his hands, red with stains and red with feathers, and it’s all red, please I can’t, I don’t want to see, I can’t, please—

“I’m here, that’s right, I’m here, love. Benn didn’t say... I am here, your safe; focus on me ok?”

Fingers in his fingers, broad and strong, and heat, not cold, not limp-dead-rotting, not small, focus and focus and focus, not small, here and pressure stinging on his face—

“I’m going to pull your hand away from your cheek; you’re hurting yourself. Nod twice if you understand?”

It takes all that he is, and he is so much, so many pieces, so many times and places, so much pain—it takes all that he is to nod once-twice, to stay here with him, his safety, strength, his—

“Yes, I'm just okay. Yes, that's okay. I'm here, I'm here, you're here with me. Can you talk?”

There is air over fresh cuts and words pressing over his ears and eyes, and holding his hands, broad and warm and alive, and here, and Shanks is so tired.

“I can't... I'm so tired but I can't...” he wants and wants, he's twisted with need, the lampreys squirm, his skin writhes, his wings ache, he wants.

“Shanks, I—Shanks, can you stay with me? I need you with me just a few minutes more, okay? Have you taken any of your medications today?”

There is more, there is always more, it’s a well— a never ending pit. It swallows him sometimes, it rarely swallows him whole, like here, like now. He has things to keep it small and manageable, at bay. He has tells and medication and alcohol—god, does he want a drink—and people who know, who catch him when he starts to fall. But this was so soon, so sudden, he didn't realize, he didn't notice—

“No, I... rum, that’s—that.” And it is, it is, but not enough, never enough. He's so tired, he wants it all to stop, but if it stops, he'll die, and everyone he loves will die. It's not safe. He needs to make it safe. If it's safe and everyone is safe, then no more, no blood, no more feathers, no more red—

"Thank you for telling me," hands, his hands, their hands, nails filled with dirt. He dug so many shallow graves—When it rained, the little feathers floated back up. So many babies—he doesn’t want their faces. He wants, he wants the ground to swallow them whole—

"So many. I don't, I can't. It's not safe. They'll kill you, and Uta—WHERE'S UTA, UTA!" His Baby Were Is His Baby! They killed so many, they’ll kill his Baby— they killed his brother, they’ll take his baby too. He saw the mothers, he saw the fathers, corpses with slit wrists and slit throats, bodies thrown from the cliffs. He can’t, if she dies, he’ll die too. She can’t die, everyone will die if she’s dead—

“Shhh, she’s safe—she’s safe, she’s with Buggy their… hiding, no one can find them. I don’t even know where they are. They're safe, love, we're all safe, I promise.” He doesn’t know, he has to see, he doesn’t know but... this is Mihawk, this is here, and hands pressure on his fingers, moving up his arms to cup his cheek, this is true—he doesn’t know, but it’s Mihawk, and that’s enough—he’s so tired.

“I know, love, I know, you can be tired—” no, he can’t. “I’m here now, I'm keeping watch, you just lay back for me?” No, he can’t, but Mihawk, it’s his husband who asks. There's ashes in his lungs and maggots under his skin, but Mihawk is here, and maybe, maybe?

“Yes, just like—“ the hands move from his cheek and pulse point to slide under and over— a body, firm and warm and alive, pressed to his own, down, down, down to the ground.

“I’m here, shhh, I’m here.” The rain and the mud and bodies, cold shivering, the black heat of his father's corpse, grinning with flies, but hands in his hair, stroking—tangled. Words pressed to his skull— He's here, he’s here.

“That's right, I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.” Shanks is here, Red is dead. Shanks is now; Red is then.

“That’s okay, close your eyes for me, okay?” Shanks is real, and Red can dream.

———

Yeah that’s it for now. I’ll probably be rewriting this first draft and posting it on ao3 with another pov from Benn.

[realistically-shifting]

Scripting Remus to ✨mutually pine✨

Non-exhaustive list of things I script

When he was a teenager, he started to have dreams of me. In his dreams, I appeared as the same age as him.

I was always present in his dreams. Either he noticed me somewhere in the background, or the dream revolved around me. I was just always there, especially during rough times.

The dreams never exaggerated my virtues or vices (Don’t want to set up a pedestal to fall from).

There’s always something missing in the dreams that makes him feel that he’s only experiencing a shadow of who I actually am. Meeting me and spending time with me in person fixes this issue; my voice finally comes through to him clearly, he gets to see my quirks and habits, things I do when I think nobody is looking. How I can be clumsy and forgetful and I constantly bump into things, yet also pay attention to details, etc. Basically, I become reality, not just the person of his dreams.

I appear to age throughout the years with him, but I stop at the age I’ll be when I meet him.

The dreams brought him comfort and he started to get eager to see my face in them. He had warm, intimate dreams, fun dreams, comforting dreams, erotic, etc.

In realities where I sang in an anonymous college band with a small fanbase - Felix, Remus’ younger brother who is my age, heard a song from my band in passing online and showed it to Remus. While Felix lost interest, Remus became our most loyal fan. We didn’t show our names or faces, but he fell in love with the lyrics we wrote and my voice brought him warmth/comfort/ease/etc.

He learned to draw to draw my face. This is how Felix, Cyrus, and Alaina know I’m from his dreams too. (They kinda thought he was crazy. May just about lose their minds when he presents me to them)

When he’d go on dates or sleep around, he found himself looking for me within the people he went out with.

He preferred erotic dreams of me to actually having sex with other people.

Whenever he was stressed or pissed, he formed a habit of imagining talking to me to talk through his problem or to calm down

Foreplay and aftercare expert

Whenever I’m in the room, his eyes are on me

After hearing and briefly spotting me in the apartment sub-level, Remus cleared his entire calendar to dedicate his time to looking for me.

Because he spotted me in the apartment sub-level with a car, he knew I was a resident of the building. So, he bought the entire building. I scripted this as an action he’s already taken.

He’s spent the past week trying to figure out how to approach me without scaring me off.

He’s already arranged a prenuptial agreement to mitigate power imbalances. The agreement is heavily favored towards me.

He doesn’t expect me to date him, per se, but he’s decided that I’m the one he wants and he’s going to pursue that.

If I got married to someone else, he would be of the mindset that he still can’t entrust my livelihood to anyone and will still provide for me, even if I’m not with him. (Not the plan, just for an idea of his personality)

This.

He regularly gets art of me commissioned (even after finding me)

Touch and physical affection is his love language sadistic pleasure dom

Hentai anatomy

Confident and Secure-attachment

He has a habit of buying things if I come to mind when he sees it.

Doesn’t care about publicly displaying his affection for me, does so shamelessly (nearly to the point of exhibitionism)

He believes that our relationship was written into the stars by the gods themselves

*Thinks buying an entire apartment building and scouring security footage will scare me off because he’s intense, doesn’t realize I learned to travel the multiverse for him*

Which leads me to: If I ever told him about shifting, he would take that as further proof of our relationship being destined.

He might cry if he found out I learned to shift for him

He likes to leave marks

He “jokes” that for a first date, we should visit the courthouse. We’ll probably laugh, but it wasn’t really a joke.

Love at first sight

He doesn’t get jealous of other men around me because he knows I will choose him in the end, one way or another.

He listens attentively when I speak, genuinely interested to learn all the little details he thought he’d never get to hear about me

Three days before he sees me, the dreams abruptly end. In his last one, it ended with me with my back turned to him and saying something he couldn’t hear, then motioning for him to follow me. After that, I no longer showed up in his dreams even if he tried.

The disappearance of dream Me stressed him tf out

When he first comes to my apartment to speak to me, it’s obvious he’s constantly holding himself back from touching me

[temperqnce]

Shakarian Heist-Fic

This is a small piece of a ridiculously long ME2 fic I've been keeping close to my chest and working on-and-off on for like. Ten years. This comes right after Garrus said something stupid on Purgatory (the for-profit ransom jail, not the club) that was insensitive considering her slavery-related PTSD (she has the colony background.) They worked it out. Next thing he knows, he's on a heist-date on Bekenstein, orchestrated by Kasumi. Shep's determined to mess with him a little while they're out. This is pre-relationship.

Please be nice, I have NEVER posted work publicly before!!!

Port Observation Deck

The door to the observation deck slid open and Garrus stepped inside. In front of him, the vastness of space glimmered with sparkling stars. To his right was a small, self-service bar and lounge - a civilian ship luxury, stocked with liquors of all colors in mostly regulation space-travel friendly cylinders. They were mostly levo drinks, friendly for most non-turian species, but a few were carefully separated and labeled dextro. He had come here once or twice before, to break the ice with some of the crew. Since Kasumi had moved in, she had taken over the left half of the room with tasteful displays of (mostly stolen) art and other personal effects, but there was still plenty of space to lounge and watch the stars go by. 

On the black corner couch in the middle of the room, Kasumi and the commander were chatting and having a few drinks. Shepard was on the half of the couch that faced the door. She was dressed down in some comfortable-looking civvies, and the two women seemed relaxed. Shepard had been intently listening to whatever Kasumi had been saying before Garrus entered the room. The two looked up at him and Shepard smiled brightly and stood. 

“Garrus! Thank you for coming by. We have a favor to ask of you. Come sit. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Anything for you, Commander,” he said, and obeyed, sitting next to Kasumi on the side of the couch facing the bar. 

Shepard came back shortly with an unfamiliar midnight-dark concoction that bubbled on the sides of a narrow-topped, spouted glass. “Jane. What is this?”

“Try it. I’ve been experimenting,” She said, looking a little devious as she sat back down.

“...Are you trying to kill me, Shepard? Is this revenge?”

“Of course not! Look, it’s just xin and Drossix, but with a sort of… Quarian twist. Trust me, okay?”

“Trust you? You haven’t even tried it. You couldn’t. This could actually kill you.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Kasumi cut in. “She’d get indigestion, at worst. You know when they say ‘Drossix Blue makes human stomachs explode’ they just mean drunk assholes shitting themselves, right?” 

“...Right. Well, here goes nothing,” he said, and tossed back the drink in one gulp. Shepard’s eyes lit up, watching his face. The base of the cocktail was richly bitter and strong, but the bubbles popped tart and almost sweet on his tongue. The carbonation was dense, but the beverage went down smooth. He felt a light pleasant buzz hit the back of his brain. 

“Wow,” he said, setting the glass on the table. “That’s nice. When did you develop an interest in dextro bartending?” 

“Two of my closest friends are dextro, Garrus, it’s called cultural competence.” 

“Only one of those friends is a dextro that drinks.”

“Well… consider it me plying you for that favor.” 

“Right. You’ve liquored me up, now what do you two want with me?”

Kasumi and Shepard shared a conspiratorial look, and Kasumi nodded. The commander grinned at Garrus and asked,

“Do you wanna be my date on a heist?” 

Bekenstein

The self-driving cab descended, hovering ever closer to a huge compound taking up the edge of a dramatic cliff. The mansion at the center was made of tall glass walls and sweeping white curves. Spreading out around it were several warehouse facilities patterned almost like waves breaking away from the centerpiece. It was an incredible sight to behold as the sun crept towards the horizon and tinted the sky pink. The sunlight played gently on the mist that gathered over a vast and rocky canyon. Shepard was taking it in when Garrus grunted next to her. 

“Nice digs.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Paid for in blood,” Kasumi darkly added in the seat behind them. “The rest of the compound is an arms manufacturing facility.” 

Kasumi had asked Shepard to help her infiltrate a party of high-class criminals. Hoarders of culture and art, elite mercenary bosses, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, the works. Their mission was to break into the vault belonging to the host and retrieve a greybox belonging to a fellow thief. From what Shepard could tell, Keiji had been Kasumi’s partner in crime as well as in life. The greybox contained his memories, and as if that weren’t precious enough, encrypted within them was some damning intelligence that could cause serious upheaval in the Alliance. Keiji had been killed and his memories stolen by the criminal and art mogul Donovan Hock. Shepard was going undercover as Alison Gunn, a mercenary alter ego designed and made almost real by Kasumi’s expert work online. 

“I still don’t know why you aren’t doing this with Jacob,” Garrus complained. “The two of you would probably make a more… believable couple.”

Kasumi snorted. “HAH. Doubt it. At best they would think he was her employee. At worst his domineering mother-in-law. Come on bud, you were a detective. Crime in Citadel Space is your thing.” 

The cab touched down in an empty roundabout in front of the main hall of the mansion. They were a tad late. The cab opened up, and Kasumi lithely hopped out. 

“Hey, I’m not old enough to be anybody’s mother-in-law!” Shepard called after her, adjusting the one bracelet she owned, a simple silver chain. She started to stand. “Trust me Garrus, this is better. Kasumi’s right, you have experience dealing with these types.” She climbed out of the cab the best she could in the dress Kasumi picked out for her. It was a black halter-top dress that showed off her muscular shoulders and back. It was entirely too clingy for ease of movement, accentuating the difference between her toned waist and her bulky thighs. “It also helps that you’re not borderline afraid of me.” 

Garrus laughed, climbing out after her. “Oh, but I am.”

“Are you?” She asked, amused. She turned to offer him a hand, and he took it, but with his long legs he was already out of the car. Instead he linked their elbows and gave her a wink. 

“Oh yes. You’re terrifying. Squishy, but terrifying.” 

“Squishy?”

“Let’s move, lovebirds!” Kasumi called. The art thief was standing next to a second car fiddling with her omni-tool. As she worked, the car opened and a large gold statue of the turian spectre and infamous legend Saren Arterius slid out on a hoverplate. “We still have to go over the plan one last time.” 

They huddled together around the gaudy statue. “This really is tasteless. I can’t believe he’s taking it,” Garrus commented. 

“After a certain point, wealth actually makes your taste infinitely worse,” Kasumi said matter-of-factly. “The richest of the rich have houses full of garbage. You’ll see once we get inside.” She grimaced. “Can’t put a price on your soul.” 

“So, Garrus and I go in as merc leader Alison Gunn and…” Shepard trailed off, at a loss. “What’s Garrus’ cover? He’s famous in his own right these days. And as cool as it would be to bring Archangel, he’s supposed to be dead.” 

“Oh, I’ve got a name for the big guy,” said Kasumi. “You’ll be attending as Altus Avaros. No cool background, you’re just a wife guy. Pure arm candy.” 

“I can do that,” said Garrus, addressing Kasumi but staring at Jane, who had doubled over in silent giggles, covering her mouth with her free hand. Kasumi grinned knowingly at Garrus’ confused stare. 

“Let’s just hope there aren’t a lot of guests like our girl that know both Palaven Standard and Latin.” 

“Do I wanna know?” Garrus asked while Shepard pulled herself together. Big bird. BIG BIRD. She wanted to tell him but she knew it would ruin it. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Kasumi smiled innocently. “You two are going to go in. Schmooze a little, but not too much. We don’t want people asking you too many questions or your aliases will fall apart. Then we locate the vault, find its weaknesses, and I’ll guide you through exploiting them. I’ll be with you, and scouting around the house unseen. The statue will smuggle our weapons and armor for when we get into the vault. You can keep your sidearms. They’ll probably expect you to.” 

After briefing, Kasumi vanished, leaving the pair to start up a set of stone stairs, hovering Saren statue in tow. 

“I still can’t believe you called me squishy,” Shepard jabbed, elbowing her date as they walked.

“Speaking of squishy, where are you hiding your pistol in a dress that tight?” 

She snorted. “I could show you, but then I’d have to kill you.” 

The interior of the mansion had an incredible view of the sunset given that the entire western wall was made of glass and crystal. The center of the main room had a water feature, a large but gentle fountain with benches nearby for sitting. To either side, roped off sets of spiral stairs, and beyond those, alcoves of priceless paintings and art. The host hadn’t shown himself yet and Kasumi was scoping out the vault entrance, so Garrus and Shepard browsed the exhibits. 

The two made thoughtful noises here and there as they walked slowly through the displays. Eventually, Shepard sighed.

“Is it just me,” she whispered, “or is this…?”

“The most bored you’ve ever been in your life?” Garrus leaned over to rumble in her ear. 

“Oh thank God. It’s not that I don’t like art, it’s just-”

“Hey, you don’t have to pretend to be cultured around me.” 

“Really though! Kas was right, this stuff is uniquely bad!” 

“You know, I bet it’s better with booze. Everything’s better with booze.” 

“Garrus, we shouldn’t. We’re on a-”

“My name is Altus, thank you, and I’m already walking away. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and he was around the corner and out of sight. 

Shepard grumbled and sat down on a bench by a small fireplace. The fire was set into the wall opposite the paintings they were looking at, which also hosted shelves upon shelves of books and knick knacks. She was about to pick up a book when a pale human male with a jar-shaped head and the worst facial hair she’d ever seen sat down next to her. 

“Alison Gunn, I presume?” he said in a bizarre accent she couldn’t place, holding out his hand. Jane took it and smiled politely. 

“Yes, good to meet you, Mr…?”

“Hock. I am your host tonight,” He said smoothly. Instead of shaking her hand, Donovan Hock lifted her hand delicately and pressed it to his lips. Shepard’s stomach soured. “Are you enjoying the party thus far?” 

“I am, Mr. Hock. You have a breathtaking home,” Shepard did her best to maintain a level countenance as she took her hand back. If she could be cool under gunfire, this should be easy. Right?

“Please, call me Donovan, Ms. Gunn. And thank you for the compliment. I paid the architect three times his usual fee for his undivided attention and for dealing with participation on my part. I wanted it to reflect my tastes well,” He smiled slyly at Shepard. She felt her face start to traitorously wrinkle with disgust, and schooled it into something more like vague interest. “Come with me across the gallery for a moment, will you?” Hock continued. “I would like to show you something.” 

“This is good,” Kasumi chimed in Shepard’s earpiece. “I need a voice sample from him, it’s one of the keys to the vault. Keep him talking.” 

“Alright,” Jane said in reply to both, and she stood to follow Hock. 

Hock took her out of the northern gallery alcove and around to one of its outer walls facing the back windows. On a pedestal against the wall, was that… an old Earth optical disc? It was huge. Wider than Hock’s own massive head. 

“I admire your work, Ms. Gunn,” The man began, stepping uncomfortably close. “You keep the barbarians at bay. Those backward-thinkers that try - and always fail - to stop people like me from doing what is necessary to keep the world turning. You understand the value of my work. I appreciate that.” He gestured to the disc. “You see this? A relic of a bygone age. If it weren’t for people like us, making the right moves, making the difficult choices, doing the galaxy’s dirty work… humanity would be stuck in the dark ages. Swinging clubs and writhing in the mud.” He stepped aside and let the colorful, sparkling gradient of sunset light behind them shine on the reflective surface of the disc. 

“That was… an enlightening speech, Mr. Hock,” Shepard managed to say, turning back to the host. “And of course I agree. I appreciate that we, uh, share that understanding.” She forced herself to smile. 

“There is much I have to share with beautiful women, Ms. Gunn,” Hock said smoothly, sliding back into her personal space. Shepard felt her biotics flicker, her hand twitching and the back of her neck getting warm. She clenched her fist and-

“Heyyyy, honey, I got that drink you wanted!” Garrus said cheerfully, sliding one arm around Shepard’s waist and putting a champagne flute in her hand with the other. The maneuver effectively created a barrier on all sides of her body for a moment, and forced Hock to back up. Jane felt her building rage and tension soften. Trust Garrus to be a smooth operator, she thought, relieved. 

“Sorry, Shep,” Kasumi said in her ear. “I had to hold him back for just a second while I got the recording. But we’re good, so you guys can feel free to get Hock out of your hair.” 

The art mogul scowled, then schooled his expression and tilted his head up slightly as if to look down at the pair. If that were possible, given that Garrus was at least a whole head taller than him. 

“Mr. Hock, I appreciate you inviting my wife and I into your home tonight,” Garrus said warmly, pulling Shepard a little tighter into his side. “It’s a gorgeous place. We were just talking about how captivating the view is. You wouldn’t mind if I stole her away for a moment on the balcony…?” 

“Of course, please. I have other guests to attend,” Hock said coolly. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Gunn.” 

Shepard smiled as sweetly as she could at him, not trusting herself to speak, and let Garrus lead her down the hall and out the glass door to the wide balcony overlooking the canyon. An air highway crossing the canyon led directly into the sweeping skyline of Milgram, Bekenstein’s capital city. The buildings there were some of the tallest she’d ever seen outside of the Citadel.

Garrus let go of her waist once they reached the edge. They stood next to each other, not touching anymore but still close, resting their glasses and their arms on the thick balcony railing. They were quiet, taking in the view. Then,

“Sorry. For grabbing your waist.” 

Jane was surprised. “No need. It’s fine.” 

“No, I mean. It’s more normal for humans than it is for turians,” Garrus explained, an edge of nervousness to his voice. “We don’t really do… public displays of affection, even with partners or family. I had to sort of code-switch for a minute, and it’s fine surrounded by mostly humans. But… I would have been slapped, doing that back home. So. I feel like I need to apologize out of respect for you, even though… it doesn’t mean much to you. As a human.”

“Hmm,” Shepard said, thoughtful. It was endearing of Garrus to think so much about their cultural differences. He seemed to know a lot more about what was normal for her than she did for him. She would have to catch up. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

“I appreciate you. For stepping in. It was good timing.” 

Garrus chuckled softly. “Well… again, normally I wouldn’t do something like that. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. But normally you’d be able to hand a guy his ass with very few consequences.” 

“Yeah,” Shepard sighed. “I really wanted to do it.”

“Kick his ass?”

“Yeah.” 

“Me too,” he admitted ruefully. “Did you know I was top of my class for hand-to-hand combat in the academy? I bet he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe he’ll get to find out later,” Shepard mused. “The night isn’t over yet.” 

“You’re right,” Garrus sighed. He tapped his glass with a talon. “You should drink this. It’s good.” 

“Your drink?”

“No. Our drink. We’re drinking the same thing.” Shepard had failed to notice that the pale, icy-green colored liquid was in both of their glasses.

“How is that-”

“It’s a newer kind of dual-chirality wine,” He explained. “Asari-made. Levo and dextro friendly, without the weird taste. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while, but it’s expensive, and, well, I didn’t want to do it alone. There was never a right moment.”

“But now, on this rich asshole’s dime…”

“Exactly.” 

Shepard touched her glass to his, a pleasant chime ringing over the vast canyon in front of them, then she took a slow sip, savoring the moment. It hit her tongue tart but settled dry, somehow both intense and impossibly light, like someone had taken an Earthen white wine and hit it with a particle accelerator. Whatever undoubtedly alien ingredients they used reminded her more of lychee and pear than of grapes. 

“Wow,” she said. “This is nice. I like it a lot.” 

“I’m glad. I’ll have to find some on the Citadel the next time we go.” 

“Thank you, Garrus. For this, and for earlier.”

“You know I’ve always got your back.” 

Static buzzed in Shepard’s ear. 

“You guys are gross. Married for all of five minutes and already making me puke,” Kasumi teased in their ears. “Get back inside, I got everything we need to get in the vault. It’s time to get suited up.” 

Jane felt a blush coming on. She left her glass on the balcony and grabbed Garrus’ hand, doing her best to twine their mismatched fingers together and pull him back indoors. They descended the stairs to the long hallway that led to the vault. 

“Hold on,” Garrus started, and they froze on the last step. “Guards coming down the other side.” Sure enough, Shepard saw the shadows of two armored men lingering at the top of the stairs at the other end of the hallway. A wicked idea fixed in her mind and she flashed a wide grin at her partner. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, and with her left arm she tugged him down the last step while with her right she shoved him up against the wall. She got a rush of satisfaction at witnessing his shock and nervousness, his eyes wide and his hands up in disarmed surrender. “I know you just said turians don’t like PDA, but…”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he replied quickly with an urgent glance down the hall.  

How does one kiss a turian? Shepard mused, pressing up against him and elbowing his arms down. The guy doesn’t have lips. She supposed she’d have to improvise. Garrus settled his hands on her hips tentatively and she wrapped hers around the back of his neck, gently craning his neck so she could reach him. A mandible is like a jaw, right? A sensitive, more expressive part of a jaw? She placed soft kisses down the uninjured side, smiling at the panicked heartbeat she felt reverberating in his chest. What happened to Mr. Suave? She wondered, before finally pressing the first of a series of exploratory kisses on his mouthplates. Kissing turians won’t be necessary, she heard her own voice in the back of her mind say to Ashley in the Cargo Bay all those years ago. She was okay with being wrong. Not because she was into it, or anything, of course. Just to get under the usually cool and confident sniper’s skin. And by his reaction… shallow breathing, tightly fluttering mandibles, a high timbre in his chest that she could only describe as acute distress… she had succeeded. That was pure satisfaction. 

She was lost in figuring out how to describe what his very foreign mouth tasted like when she heard a cough from behind her. Garrus had apparently forgotten what they were doing all of this for, because he jumped a little and let go of her quickly, like a teen having been caught under the bleachers. That was fitting enough, though, and Jane stepped back, making a show of fixing herself up though he hadn’t done anything other than attempt to kiss her back and clamp onto her hips for dear life. 

The two Eclipse guards looked some combination of embarrassed and dumbstruck. Turian-human couples weren’t very common, for good reason. “Sorry for the uh, interruption, ma’am,” one of them said, flushing and not meeting her eyes. “Just - well. This hallway isn’t off-limits, per-se, but it’s not private, either. You might wanna… I mean. Mr. Hock’s estate is extensive, I’m sure staff could find you and your, uh, friend a room if you wanted.” 

Shepard gave the men her most devastating smile. “Thanks, boys. We’ll finish up here and probably head home.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the guard said, and quickly moved along, elbowing his partner to follow him.

When they were out of sight, Shepard turned back to Garrus, whose blue-flushed neck was slowly returning to normal along with his steady breathing. He glowered at her. 

“You enjoyed that a little too much, Commander.”

“Aww, was it really that bad?” Shepard pouted. 

The blush returned. “No! No, I, uh, well, it was, uh. Just. New,” he spluttered. “Different.”

“Calm down, big guy, I’m only teasing,” she laughed, and grabbed him by the elbow to pull him down to the vault door. 

She was going to have to thank Kasumi later. This was the most fun she’d had on a mission in a while. 

--------

Kasumi flipped backwards off Hock’s gunship and back down onto some shipping containers in the coolest feat of acrobatics Jane had ever seen.

“I do love a professional,” Garrus buzzed in her ear. She could hear the smile in his voice through the radio. Having disabled the ship’s shields, the only thing left to do was blow it out of the sky. 

Shepard pulled out her grenade launcher and crouched to load it. High on the landing pad but behind some crates, Kasumi made quick and precise shots with her pistol at the windows of the gunship, clearly going for Hock’s head. Garrus popped up from his spot on the opposite side of the platform from Shepard, shot a few strategically-aimed high-caliber rounds, then disappeared to reload. Shepard could hear them both muttering to themselves over the radio. 

“Take that, you bastard. I hope one of these lobotomizes you but keeps you alive so I can shoot you a few more times you sick fuck-”

“-turian design, weak points in the armor… here, here, and… here-”

Shepard looked up and hefted the grenade launcher to her shoulder. She waited for Hock to pause between his hail of bullets and the next round of pummeling rockets. She charged her shields, hoping to draw Hock’s attention. She popped up and rapid-fired, three grenades at once. She figured one or two of them might interrupt the barrage while the other snuck past. Garrus also popped up. Hock fired his missiles. But not at Shepard. 

“Shit-” Jane heard, and then Garrus’ radio cut out. 

-----

Garrus hit the ground. Hard. Something buzzed on the screen of his visor and his radio cut. Diagnostics told him he’d cracked a tiny part of the receiver - no big deal, he could weld that back together with his omni-tool. 

His combat HUD told him all three grenades Shepard sent off had hit the gunship square on. Kasumi cheered, loud enough that he’d picked it up without the aid of his radio. Safe now from rocket fire (thank the spirits) he sat up to take his visor off and quickly zap it back into shape. He thought he heard the commander yelling from pretty far away. Then suddenly she was right in his face. 

She’d lept over his cover and landed haphazardly beside him, then grabbed his shoulders with force that would have completely fucked his welding if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to stop. Her eyes were wild and her hands were shaking. Concerned, Garrus wrapped his hands around her elbows in what he hoped was a comforting grip. 

“Jane? What’s wrong?” He asked, thoroughly confused. 

“Rocket,” she said between heavy breaths from the dead sprint she must have been in. “You didn’t pop back up.”

Oh. 

“I’m fine,” he said, his subvocals coming out low and warm, the emotion stronger than he expected. He squeezed at the joint of her arms. “Just broke the receiver in my visor. I was fixing it.” 

She shoved him a little, clearly miffed, and knocked a fist against his armor. “You have at least two backup radios. What did I get you this stupid suit for? You and that damned visor.” She shook her head, but smiled as he pulled it out to finish the quick weld. 

“Guys! The Kodiak is almost here,” Kasumi called from above, leaning over the railing of the landing pad. “We probably want to get out as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Shepard said while Garrus gave an affirmative hand signal, and the thief disappeared.

Garrus replaced his patched-up visor and re-connected to their combat frequency, then caught Jane’s arm before she started vaulting over the concrete barrier between them and the stairs. The playing-pretend part of the evening might have been long-since over, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t see the bit all the way through. 

“Before we go,” he said quickly to her surprised face, “I just… wanted to say thanks. This was fun.” 

The commander’s expression was caught between amusement and confusion, a small, open smile showing while her brows furrowed. She looked away from him, blinked a few times, then said, “Uh, yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I’m… glad.” She seemed to gather herself, then looked at him again, smiling in a more relaxed way this time. “I’d say we should do it again sometime, but…”

“What, get invited to a high-class criminal soiree, drink their booze, steal their shit, and blow it up? I’m game if you are.” 

“It’s a date,” she said, winking at him, then she slung herself over the concrete divider and hurried up the landing pad stairs. 

His heart was hammering, all of the sudden. 

It was just a joke. Wasn’t it? 

Shit. 

-------- 

Garrus found himself back where all of this had started, staring at the Normandy’s meager selection of dextro liquor and mixers in the starboard lounge. He was alone, thank the spirits. Shepard and Kasumi were debriefing in the commander’s cabin, deciding the fate of the greybox. 

He thought about trying to mix up what Jane had made for him before the mission, but he didn’t really have the presence of mind to recreate it properly. He poured himself a glass of straight xin and sat on the couch with a huff. 

Over and over again, his mind was replaying that moment on the stairs, right before they broke into the vault. He’d frozen up completely, as nervous as a fledgling boy. He was damned near thirty years old, he should have been able to do something. Anything at all. Shit, he’d wanted to. Run a hand through her hair. Pull one of her legs over his hip. Try to find where she’d hidden that gun… Just to be convincing. To the mercs who were watching. The patrolling mercs that he had forgotten about as soon as she started kissing him. 

The door behind him slid open and Kasumi walked in, silent as the grave. She placed her greybox on her desk gently and sat on the couch on her side of the room, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on her knees. 

“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he started to get up. Her voice was calm. He rose to his feet anyway.

“I was going to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said, gesturing to his cup. She looked up at him and smiled faintly. 

“Pour me half a glass of that blue bottle up top, and fill the rest with the red juice in the fridge. I’m feeling like a party girl,” she said with a hiccuping laugh. Garrus couldn’t see her eyes under her hood, but he’d wager high creds that she was crying. 

He did as she asked and brought it to her, sitting down on the other side of the same couch. 

“Are you… alright?” he asked slowly. She took a few small sips from her glass before answering. 

“Yes. And no,” she said. “I’m keeping the greybox. It’s all I have left of Keiji. But… I don’t think the commander approves. It was a hard conversation.” 

Garrus nodded, staying quiet. He watched her wipe tears out from under her eyes. 

“She said it was my decision. But that Keiji wouldn’t have wanted me to have a target on my back for the rest of my life. That he’d have wanted me to live in reality and not in the past. She was right.” 

“She has a way of being right about things,” Garrus grumbled. “It’s pretty annoying.” 

Kasumi laughed again, sniffled a little. “I got pissed at her anyway. I yelled. What does she know about what Keiji would have wanted? She doesn’t know him like I do. Nobody does,” she shook her head. “But she didn’t even get mad. She just gave me a hug and let me cry. She said she wouldn’t judge my choices. But I don’t know, Gare. It just… feels so wrong, to disappoint her. She’s so…” she trailed off, at a loss for words. 

“I know,” Garrus said, setting his glass on the table. He leaned towards her a little, trying to see if he could catch the shine of her eyes. “Look, I’m not the best guy for this kind of advice. You know where loss sent me. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That’s something I’m… learning lately,” he admitted gruffly. “Give yourself some time. Keep it for now. But with the intention of saying goodbye,” he watched her nod slowly, clutching her glass with two hands and rubbing her knuckles for comfort. “Work your way towards being able to let it go, and then… I dunno. Blow it up over an ocean, or something. Jettison it into a star. Make it special.” 

Kasumi smiled at him warmly. “Thanks Garrus. That sounds… nice. I’ll think about it.” She swung her legs to the floor and set her glass on the low table in front of her. 

“No thanks necessary. A turian lives to serve.”

She snorted and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Right, sure. If we’re keeping score, you owed me, anyway.” 

“How so?” Garrus asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Who do you think suggested you come with us?” She grinned devilishly. “After you shoved your foot in your mouth on Purgatory I thought maybe you could use a chance to get back in the lady’s good graces.” 

Garrus’ jaw dropped. “Uh,” he scrambled, “Kas, we’re not, I’m not, uh,” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Could you hear the noises the giant bug orchestra in your chest was making when Hock was all over her? And when she was all over you?” 

“You could hear that?” He asked, panicked. Most humans could tell something was playing underneath a turian’s primary vocals, but rarely could discern the difference between one tone and another. Their hearing was simply not sharp enough, their brains untrained to identify the nuances. It was something turians could often use to their advantage in interspecies engagement: a facade of emotional detachment was useful in negotiations of all kinds. 

“I’m the best thief in the galaxy, Vakarian. I’ve got a few upgrades. Understanding how people feel is important in any kind of undercover work… as you know, detective.” There was an impish sparkle to her countenance that Garrus resented. There went the one advantage to being the only turian on this ship. 

“The commander has a… a partner,” Garrus insisted, echoing the language Shepard used in their conversation on the Citadel. “He’s my friend, too. I’m not interested in getting mixed up in that. You can read whatever you want into my interactions with her, but we’re just friends. She’s important to me. I’m loyal to her. She’s… frustrating, sometimes. That’s all.” He hoped that was convincing enough. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince the most. 

“Sure, Gare,” Kasumi said slyly. “Whatever you say. I’ll keep your little secret. But I don’t think it needs to be kept.” 

Garrus was about to ask what she meant when the door to the room slid open and Shepard stumbled in out of breath. He stood quickly, almost dropping his drink. 

“Jane. What’s happening?” 

“Another colony is being hit. Now. I just set a course,” she gasped for breath, then locked gazes with him, her eyes filled with fear. “Garrus. It’s Kaidan.”

~~~~~~~~~ That's the end folks. Someday maybe in another ten years I'll post more lmao

[wejustvibing]

this bit makes me mad... "I was like, okay, I’ll step back, don’t want to step on anybody’s toes." i cant believe they made him feel like that?! like he should just shut up and not get involved. the disrespect is wild

it's the same shut up and drive attitude toto, the captain of the ship, displayed publicly. and it's not just about telling him he's wrong. he's not beyond that obviously but in retrospect it's clear that they were dismissive and they also made him feel the otherness. we've been saying, whatever cracks we've started seeing are just surface level. there's so much that he doesn't even let out just to avoid unnecessary narratives.

this is also why i don't know if i even want him to take some of these people along lol