#and with the way this show is all about symbolism

[heartfullofleeches]

While the psychological mindfuxking Host puts Darling through in order to wear them down into being his co-host is honestly one of the most fun things to write, I live for Darlings who were never appreciated in their own time and suck up all the praise he gives them for their talents.

Crafty Reader who also dabbles in a bit of inter decorating winds up on Host's show and their immediate first thought is "Damn, bitch- You host a game show on this stage?"

It's cute- but a little outdated. Where's the passion? The irritatingly bright neon signs that burn their eyes from a mere glance. Potted plants??? Anything??

Normally Host isn't one to tolerate guests that interrupt his opening speech, but as Darling goes off on their tangent Host is left stumped - stupefied, damn near mesmerized by that fire in their eyes. He can't say they aren't wrong either- Props come and go as Host wishes, but the stage is a bit lacking without them. Not contestants don't stick around long enough to point it out, but with his newest and top pick for co-host right in front of him perhaps it's time for a few changes.

"Congratulations! You won today's show Give our fans a big smile and wave goodbye to our losers."

"I won?...but you didn't even ask me any questions."

"Oh, you- If answering questions was the only way to win here no one would."

Darling is whisked away by stage hands into a bedroom- The room is deprived of any furniture beyond a bed, a large chest propped against the farthest wall, and a table upon which an old sewing machine sits. It looks a bit like the one they had back home, but the label is made up of jumbled letters and symbols. How are they supposed to use the darn thing without any supplies anyway?

Darling inspects the chest and finds.... pretty much everything tucked away in their small bedroom, their real bedroom that they use for their projects. No construction paper, though.....

Oh. There's some.

Darling quickly discovers that whatever they require appears in the chest whenever they're vocal with their requests. On occasion, the chest acts without their say and pulls the thought from their mind before they're able to speak. It isn't long before the empty space is fully stylized to their personality and presences. Darling thinks they did a great job. The teddy bear on their bed believes so too.

.....When did that get there?

Darling may have won his show, but Host is the real winner when he see what Darling has done to his stage. Host are extended by another hour....or year with how long he brags to guests about Darling's craftsmanship. Time is a tricky thing to keep track of when the watches you wear flop between ticking backwards or at a snails pace.

"Thoughts on those name plates? Our brilliant co-host made them for you all- Are you lucky? I of course have my own, but- Oh, come now. I know this is top quality work, but there's no need to scream. Give our co-host a hand for all their hard work....Or lose both."

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[regiawrites]

And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad." 

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death." 

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?" 

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again. 

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression. 

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded. 

"The local police department thinks so, yeah." 

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?" 

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares." 

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive." 

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed." 

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out. 

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker." 

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?" 

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions." 

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you." 

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down. 

And for the whole walk to the jet. 

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

 ***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though." 

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?" 

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile. 

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged. 

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then." 

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect." 

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room. 

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own. 

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures. 

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!" 

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver." 

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?" 

He continued to stare at her, silent. 

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people." 

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?" 

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes. 

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?" 

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?" 

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone. 

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?" 

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated. 

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down. 

"We're going to get caught." 

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape. 

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer. 

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found. 

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah." 

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it. 

Carly

24

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered. 

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch." 

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer. 

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together. 

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response. 

"Ahem." 

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness. 

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other." 

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking. 

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss. 

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick.  “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

[mentalmeles]

Well. While the brain rot has me, I wanna talk about some lines in ‘Trust Love’ that have been bothering me lately. Mostly how they blatantly reference Penny and how she just might return once more.

Yes, it’s that kind of Penny posting. If you don’t subscribe to the Penny 3.0 theory or think she should stay dead, please carry on and let me have my silly little thoughts in peace. Also this is 100% Nuts and Dolts propaganda. I will not apologize.

ANYWAY! Onto the lyrics!

Right now, your hopes are shattered / Just pointless ever after

This line obviously talks about the loss of hope. Penny, time and again, has been the character to symbolize hope. The most obvious time this has been done was during Jinxy’s auction in Volume 9.

Ruby is inexplicably drawn to the jade marionette, which we all know turns out to be one of Penny’s swords. (And ofc let’s not forget that weapons are considered an extension of their owners in this world.)

Without knowing why, Ruby wants it and tries to wager for it. But Jinxy asks for something in particular—something Ruby has lost.

“Enough hope to fill [a] jar.”

I also want to point out that the pov making it look like the jade marionette is fitting inside the jar as well as the star charm tied around the top are not at all coincidences. This is the show telling us point blank that Penny is the personification of hope. Or at least Ruby’s hope.

But Ruby just lost her. She has no hope left.

But in time, you'll find / Through love, your power just shines

(I felt the need to put this gif here since it is exactly what plays during these lines in the Volume 7 intro, so let’s just sit and think about the implications of that for a moment. Cool? Cool.)

When you don't know where to turn to / And you're sure all hope is gone / When the day you waited for won't come / And dark won't yield to dawn / Trust love and open up your eyes

Now these lines are what get me. They talk about Ruby losing hope and direction, caught in darkness. Now, while this is the intro song for Volume 7, it’s clear that Ruby has not lost her hope yet. If anything, she just got a big chunk of it back.

And I’d argue that even In Volume 8 when shit has hit the fan and it just keeps coming and coming, Ruby hasn’t lost her resolve yet. There are definitely moments when she comes very, very close to it and she falters, but she does end up maintaining it for the most part.

(I can't find it, but imagine the gif where Ruby is looking down at Penny's unconscious body and is tearing up while saying "It's all...too much." Wow. Such a pretty gif.)

(It's also funny how these moments where Ruby's doubts are the strongest are taking place when Penny is seriously wounded and incapacitated, now isn't it? Surely that's just a funny coincidence...)

But then she and the rest of team RWBY fall into the Ever After and, after learning about Penny's second death, Ruby's mental state just falls deeper and deeper.

But then the lyrics tell Ruby that all she has to do during this dark and harrowing moment is to 'trust love.' Who's love is she supposed to trust? The song has been relating to keeping hope up till now, so it's not a stretch to say that she's supposed to trust the love she had for Penny, platonic or otherwise.

Trust love, the truth is there, but sometimes in disguise

These lines are certainly interesting when put into the context that they're also related to Penny somehow. Personally, all I can think of is when Penny transferred the Winter Maiden powers to Winter. I'm definitely not the first to mention this, but it's awfully suspicious that the aura glow was yellow and not green, isn't it? Sure, there were motes of green, but that isn't what happened when Fria gave Penny the powers previously. So why the change? Unless the truth, while there, is disguised. The truth is that Penny is dying and giving up her power, but it's disguised somehow...

The way's uncertain but we're together / Movin' toward the light / When we trust in love and open up our eyes

Mention of Ruby being together with someone. Obviously, this could just be referring to team RWBY or the whole group being together, united under the mission of saving Remnant from Salem. But, again, when mostly every other line has been tied to hope--and by extension Penny--, it's hard to believe it's talking about that. So, maybe a reunion with a certain someone that hasn't happened yet? A reunion that will bring Ruby back towards the light--towards regaining her hope--once and for all? I mean, if Ruby's character arc in the second Justice League crossover movie is where her arc will go in the show proper, it's not too far of a stretch.

(The reason I mention the Justice League crossover movies is because Ruby's arc in the first movie was very reminiscent to the arc she had about her leadership role in Volumes 7 and 8. So, since she became very self sacrificing in that movie, diving headfirst into mission after mission with no regard to her safety, maybe that's what will happen in Volume 10 too? Maybe having the potential of getting Penny back will be the thing to make her stop?)

Anyways... I don't know if any of this really made any sense and I might just be rambling nonsense, but yeah. Some things that I noticed and felt the need to shout out into the ether.

Thanks for reading!

[serpentarii]

M O R D L U S T ; september 22nd, 2024

finally getting around to doing these more often now that i'm making money moves in the draft (this is a lie, i am making moves into my friends' dms to scream) so that means i have an excuse to make self-indulgent WIP edits.

my primary protagonist vératre, formerly known as voir, has been made sufficiently weird, and i think i've found a way to smoothly integrate all of the new scenes i added when i reformatted her half of the plot.

i've also been in my overthinking era to make sure that everything from color symbolism, animal motifs, to the specific variations of words characters use has a purpose. 90% of it will not be apparent in the actual draft so, to paraphrase myself, i'm like gay sisyphus opening and closing notion.

but, i do plan on making some character aesthetic intros, tv show edits, and finally getting around to that animal symbolism post 🐯

transcript below the cut:

Pale blue light flooded into the crate as the lid was pried off, then abruptly overturned, sending Aleksander tumbling out between a set of familiar armchairs. His attention traveled up the front of a familiar desk and landed at an unsmiling familiar face.  Sitting quietly on the other side of the desk was Lady Kos, regal as a queen and ten times wealthier, with pearl droplets woven into her dark braids, dressed in chiffon and lace from trailing hem to high, starched collar.  She was melting wax, her movements swift and assured as she poured a small pool onto the folds of an envelope and stamped it with a sigil Aleksander knew to dread. She took a sip of riesling, soundlessly replacing her glass onto the wood, before setting her sights on him.  “Herr Aleksander Fox,” she said at last. 

and since i haven't done this in like 4 years, surprise bitch. i'm doing a novel prep tag in here now.

first look ;

describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch) ;

a businessman-turned-thief finds himself entangled with a pair of opposing assassins and the roles they unknowingly play in a much grander conspiracy.

how long do you plan for your novel to be (novella, standalone, series, etc.)? ;

a standalone, thank god. the technically term would be roman fleuve, since i am planning future standalone works that take place within the same universe.

what is your novel’s aesthetic? ;

ancient buildings overtaken by nature, cemeteries at midnight, poisonous flowers, venomous snakes, whispering in shadowy alcoves, masquerade balls, bloodstained feathers, veiled truths

what other stories inspire your novel? ;

the his dark materials series by philip pullman, uprooted by naomi novik, classic gothic lit, fairy tales in general, and uh,,,,,,,exodus.

share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel ;

main character ;

who is your protagonist? ;

my two main protagonists/POVs are liferuiner and wannabe businessman aleksander fox, and vératre, a notorious poisoner struggling her way through a quarter-life crisis.

who is their closest ally? ;

aleksander's closest ally, at least in the beginning, is his friend heidi, an information broker with a secret :) and vératre begrudgingly accepts the help of salicaire, another assassin, since they are both nosy and want answers.

who is their enemy? ;

aleksander vs. the ospirin family (a fight he is nawt winning) and the church

what do they want more than anything? ;

so, to be cryptic, 3/4 of the leads in mordlust are all reflections of each other, what they could have been and what they want to be. the last of them is the mirror. they see in him what they want to see. and what they want, shockingly, is prestige, power, belonging, etc. they've always felt like strangers in their own skin and will go to terrible lengths to fit themselves into a society that was not made for them.

why can’t they have it? ;

dirty dirty politics for which they are mere pawns ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

what do they wrongly believe about themselves? ;

that because they've been hurt, they are justified in hurting others in pursuit of their goals.

draw your protagonist! (or share a description) ;

aleksander is a classic dandy with a hyperfixation on his vintage fox fur coat, which he wears even when it's wildly out of season and out of fashion because it's the nicest thing he owns. he's also usually seen wearing kid leather gloves and a golden cravat pin he received from his patroness. he's got green eyes, short auburn hair, lots of freckles, and more people would find him handsome if he didn't smile like he knew your fly was down and was refusing to tell you.

vératre's lips are stained purple due to. reasons. and so she wears a veil, which is not uncommon for particularly devout women. she has medium length brown hair she keeps pinned up into tight plaits and a notably long neck. also, she has pretty privilege because shits fucked and having attractive lay servants representing the house/church is common practice. since she works as a kitchen maid most of the week, she's often wearing her uniform w/ an apron. and sometimes she wears isme's black feathered cloak.

drawing wise, i do have this chart, courtesy of alex @bitethebard:

plot points ;

what is the internal conflict? ;

aleksander and vératre, being parallels of each other, have somewhat similar internal conflicts. they both came from nameless villages out in the countryside and share a burning desire to be more. in vératre's case it's v much a "be careful what you wish for" situation, because in receiving everything she thought she wanted she's no longer herself and unhappier than ever. aleksander is younger and earlier along in his journey, but barreling down the same path. except the choices he makes fucks shit up for the people around him more than they effect himself.

what is the external conflict? ;

again, cutthroat politics (literally). everyone has something they'd kill for.

what is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist? ;

other than dying horribly, probably being tethered to an uncaring master, praying to uncaring gods, and trying to find comfort in an uncaring church for the rest of their miserable lives.

what secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story? ;

aleksander is entangled in a pseudo-liar revealed plot, which i kinda hate, but as an extremely unreliable narrator his priorities are not in proper order... vératre is witnessing the horrors.

do you know how it ends? ;

yeah

bits & bobs ;

what is the theme? ;

blind faith is dangerous. you must learn to take responsibility for both the good and the bad actions you take, and attaching yourself to someone or something at random to validate your own existence isn't healthy. holiness exists not only in gods but in small moments of happiness and in the people we love. and lastly don't fucking steal someone's skin and sell it on the black market.

what is a recurring symbol? ;

thorns.

where is the story set? (share a description!) ;

niederbrinn, the capital city of falkenreik, which is loosely inspired by pre-german empire prussia. it's filled with tons of gothic™ architecture and fun locations like cathedrals, catacombs, and creature shops. it's situated closer to the malevolent eldritch forest than most would like.

do you have any images or scenes in your mind already? ;

hell yeah

what excited you about this story? ;

mostly isme. and then the other 3 protags ig 🙄

tell us about your usual writing method! ;

these days, i usually write a rough outline and expand it using the snowflake method, incorporating ideas, themes, and worldbuilding along the way. then i make a proper outline where i figure out chapters, acts, the dreaded midpoint, etc. i don't write in chronological order so this helps a ton with out-of-context lines since i have a reference for where i want them based on the location/emotional state of the characters. getting myself to actually sit down and WRITE the damn thing is the problem, shout out to my fellow procrastinating perfectionists <33

if you made it to this point you are sexy and i love you, byeeee !!

[ryuzakistoe]

The Red String (Isagi Yoichi x Fem!reader)

fluff, fem!reader, some mentions of the bllk plot

a/n: I absolutely love the red string theory I think its so beautiful 🤧❤️

The red string theory is a beautiful concept often used to symbolize fate, indicating that there is someone out there connected to you by the same string.

No matter where they are, whether they are at opposite ends of the world, in different states, or right beside you, eventually, your lives, hearts, and souls will become connected by an invisible red string, binding your destinies together. It is a wondrous and beautiful thing.

It's truly one of the most enchanting ways to become intertwined with someone, becoming a unified whole, fully aware that from now on, your lives will be forever connected. The belief of that truly fascinated you.

Well, it did fascinate you.

Here you were, resting by a bench at a nearby park, mulling over the recently shocking events.

Your boyfriend—well now ex-boyfriend, decided to break up with you as it was ‘for the best’,

How could it have gone to this conclusion? Was it something you did that upset him?

You could've sworn that your relationship with him was healthy, while he himself proved it was not.

It was pretty idiotic of you to believe in the 'red string' theory and expect it to come true, especially when you thought he was the one.

This only existed in fairytales, you should've known better.

As you were overwhelmed by all the negative thoughts and sadness, you seemed to be oblivious to the presence that was now walking up to you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You quickly whipped your head up to the source of that voice as you were met with a boy who seemed around the same age as you in a white, soccer tracksuit. It also looked like there were fresh tears in his eyes…or were you imagining it?

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” you mumbled as you wiped the warm tears with your sleeve. You felt embarrassed to be showing your tears in front of a stranger you just met.

“You sure? Wanna talk about it..?”

~~~🌷~~~

You couldn't believe it. What suddenly overcame you to vent all your emotions and thoughts onto this boy?

Though you couldn't lie…it did feel good to let all these emotions out.

“Wow…sorry ‘bout that. He seems like a real ass.” isagi spoke as he listened to your rants.

"Yeah…it was out of nowhere—oh sorry for unloading all of this on you out of the blue. I just realized you probably have a lot on your shoulders already." You apologize, feeling a wave of guilt.

Isagi shook his head, “Nah its alright. What I went through can't even compare to what you just endured.” Isagi spoke.

Feeling a bit curious, you decided to ask, “Really? What happened?”

Isagi let out a quiet sigh as he replied, “Well, I lost a pretty important soccer match.” isagi mumbled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“You're right, that can't even compare to mine.” you joked as a small chuckle slipped past your lips.

Isagi’s gaze shifted towards you before he also let out a small laugh.

Something about that laugh of yours…was somehow alluring to Isagi.

The sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter seemed to suit your face much better than the frown you wearing earlier. That's what Isagi believed.

You looked beautiful—gorgeous even.

After the laughter subsided, isagi decided to speak up, “well, that match did determine if I was going to nationals or not.” he uttered.

“Oh uh Really? Sorry about making that joke then— i take it back..” you muttered, feeling the guilt once more.

Isagi chuckled dryly and reassured you that everything was fine, saying, “mm no, no, no—its fine really.”

With a nod, you spoke, “oh alright then.” Although, despite his words, you still felt a lingering sense of guilt.

The conversation soon drifted into silence as the both of you just sat there.

Surprisingly, the atmosphere wasn't awkward, it was comfortable—relaxing even.

After a couple of seconds Isagi decided to break the comfortable silence between you, “Well then, its best if i get going. Its already getting late. You should head home too.”

You gazed up into the sky as you took in the scene. The sun was almost dipped beneath the earth as the sky morphed into layers of orange, red, and yellow.

“mhm alright, It is in fact getting late.” You smiled as you stood up from the bench.

“Yeah, make sure you get home safe uh….” Isagi trailed off as he realized he never got your name.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You replied, finishing Isagi’s sentence.

“Isagi Yoichi.” He hummed as he also recalled he never told you his name.

Isagi said his goodbyes and began to leave, but then he abruptly turned back. "Oh, wait L/n!" he called out.

“hm?” You hummed as you turned your body around to face him as your name was called out.

“If you ever need to talk to someone again, ill be here! In this same spot at the same time!” He offered.

You smiled, “okay! Ill keep that in mind Isagi!” You replied back as you sent him a wave before walking away.

Maybe you’ll consider that offer.

~~~🌷~~~

After some careful contemplation, you made the decision to return to that exact location.

There was something about Isagi Yoichi that lured you in. You felt a strong desire to learn more about him.

So there you were, waiting on the same bench at the time he said he would visit.

He hadn't arrived yet, so you decided to wait a little, assuming he was running late.

…

Time ticked by and he still wasn't here. Did he stand you up? Did he lie?

No, he doesnt seem like that type of guy to do that. Although…they do say to not judge a book by its cover.

What if he's actually a bad guy? What if he joked about all of this? What if he never truly cared about your problems? What if-

“Oh hey L/n! Sorry I was a bit late. Had soccer practice.” Isagi chuckled as he hurried over to you.

Huh, guess all your ‘what-ifs’ were really just ‘what-ifs’

He really did keep his word.

You sent a smile down his way as he also returned your smile with a warm one.

“Thats okay Isagi.” you spoke as he took a seat next to you.

…

The conversation between the both of you was rather enjoyable.

Both you and Isagi found the both of you conversing about your hobbies, dreams, likes, dislikes, etc.

You and Isagi grew to learn more about each other as the hours passed.

You learnt about Isagi’s passion for football meanwhile Isagi learned about your passion for becoming successful in life.

You became more attracted to Isagi, as Isagi became more attracted to you.

Isagi would treasure every smile you gave when he made a subtle joke or showed interest, and you would do the same.

You would treasure the way his face converted into pure happiness as he talked about football and other hobbies he enjoyed.

You found it…cute.

“So L/n, what school do you go to?” Isagi asked as this sudden question popped up in his head.

”Oh I actually go to Ichinan High School” you responded.

Isagi’s eyes widened in shock and excitement as he also coincidently went to that same school.

“Really?! No way! I go to that same school too!” Isagi grinned as his eyes lit up in delight and eagerness.

"Really?! How come I never see you around then?" you asked, feeling a surge of excitement upon learning that he also attended the same school.

“Uh well… I really don't know.” Isagi sheepishly grinned as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You giggled at his excuse and aloofness as you found his answer somewhat funny and dumb.

That sight of your smile—Isagi loved that.

He couldn't recall when he started to feel himself craving your smile.

But every time you did, all he knew was that it made him feel all warm inside. He loved that feeling.

If Isagi could, he would want to keep that smile plastered on your face all the time. But for now, all he could do was cause that smile to form on your delicate face.

“Hey L/n, what classes do you have? I could try to meet up with you.” Isagi smiled as he was internally thrilled.

After telling him your schedule, Isagi started planning out where and when to meet you in the hallways or classes.

“Yeah that could work.” you nodded as you both agreed where to meet.

~~~🌷~~~

Every day, you and Isagi began to hang out in school.

He would walk you to class and walk with you to the cafeteria. He would basically walk you anywhere he could. Although Isagi would be late to most of his classes.

But it was worth it if it meant Isagi could be near your presence and smile at all times.

Day by day, both of yours and Isagi’s feelings for each other would grow stronger and increase significantly over time.

Even the slightest physical touch would send you both into a blushing mess.

This went on for weeks until Isagi got sent a letter about a soccer program from “Blue Lock”

…

“When are you leaving?” you asked, feeling upset at the thought of Isagi leaving you.

“In couple days.” he sighed as he placed the letter down.

Isagi couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of pity and guilt by the look on your face at the idea of him disappearing for a while. And by a while, I mean months.

“Listen Y/n, if you don't want me to go then I won't-”

“No Yoichi. I want you to go. I want you to pursue your dream.” you sadly smiled as you cut him off.

Isagi asked with a hint of uncertainty, carefully studying your expression for any signs of doubt or hesitation. “Are you sure?”

“Im sure.” you nodded as you held your smile.

Isagi's face lit up with a warm smile as he wrapped his arms around you in a tight, heartfelt hug. "Thanks, Y/n," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

You reciprocated his hug as a you felt a few tears trickle down your face and onto his shoulder.

“I'm gonna miss you Yoichi,” you muttered into his shoulder as he held you tightly.

“I'm going to miss you too Y/n,” Isagi quietly whispered as he rested his head on top of yours.

~~~🌷~~~

The day came sooner then expected as Isagi was preparing to leave.

"The bus will be arriving soon, huh?" you said, attempting to engage in casual conversation with Isagi.

“Yeah in a couple minutes.” Isagi nodded as he looked at his phone.

The tension in the air became awkward as the both of you stared at each other, your eyes reflecting the sorrow you held.

“Y/n…if you really don't want me too-”

“No Yoichi. I want you too.” you spoke sternly as you cut him off once more.

Isagi smiled at your words as the bus soon arrived.

As the bus came to a halt, Isagi faced you once more, “Y/n, when I come back, I'll become the best in the world. That's a promise.” he confidently grinned.

“You better keep that promise.” you chuckled as you watched him board the bus.

As Isagi was heading inside, his next actions and words left you in a state of shock, catching you off guard with his intentions.

“I love you Y/n.” Isagi smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips and boarded the bus.

You were startled by his words as you watched the doors close, your eyes widening in surprise.

Did you hear that right? Did that really just happen?

Isagi glanced at you through the window and couldn't help but let out a smile laugh at your reaction.

You looked adorable is what Isagi thought.

The bus soon left as it was heading to its destination.

What the hell.

You slowly brought your fingers to your face as you softly touched your lips.

Warm.

Your lips were warm.

Now, you knew you weren't just hallucinating or imagining it. It happened. It actually happened.

He kissed you.

Not to mention he even said he “loves you.”

You couldn't help but feel a bit upset but excited and happy by these actions.

Happy by the fact he confessed his love for you but sad that you didn't get the chance to tell him how you felt.

Well, now you had an idea: the next time you see him, you would get back at him.

“Damn you Yoichi…” you smiled.

~~~🌷~~~

A couple months passed as it was announced Blue Lock was versing U-20.

Now this was a match you definitely wanted to see.

After all, Isagi would be there. But also, they would be up against U-20, where THE Sae Itoshi would be playing.

You wanted to see if Isagi really improved and kept his promise. And, of course, that could only be proven if the U-20 was defeated.

…

The crowd erupted into roars and cheers as both teams emerged onto the field.

Your eyes immediately scan for a familiar patch of dark blue hair, and once you find him, you notice that he looks more…serious.

Well, I mean who would be serious in a match like this?

Starting off, the U-20 seems to have taken the lead as Blue Lock starts to fall behind.

Soon enough Blue Lock catches up.

You couldn't help but scream with the crowd. This was more exciting than you had anticipated. The final outcome of the game left you feeling anxious. You really hoped Blue Lock would win.

And win they did, with none other than Isagi Yoichi scoring the final goal.

The crowd erupted into cheers as you screamed along with them, overwhelmed with joy.

After the crowd dispersed, you chose to remain in order to meet with Isagi.

After a couple of minutes, you see him emerging from the building. His eyes light up once he sees your figure up ahead.

“Y/n!” Isagi yelled as he ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground while spinning you around in his arms.

“Im so proud of you Yoichi!” You exclaimed as he spun you around before finally placing you down.

“Did you see that goal Y/n?!” Isagi excitedly spoke as the sparkles in his eyes never faded.

“Mhm! I did Yoichi! You’re amazing!” You nodded, your grin never faltering.

Isagi held a looks of longing in his eyes as he embraced you in yet another hug.

“I missed you so much Y/n.” He whispered as he held you close.

“I missed you too Yoichi.” you breathed out as he held you tightly.

Isagi reluctantly let go before a small blush coated his cheeks.

He looked off to the side before quietly mumbling, “So…did you think about it…?”

You raised an eyebrow at him before finally realizing what he meant.

“Oh, you meant that day at the bus?” You asked as you saw Isagi nervously nod.

…

“Sorry Yoichi…”

Hearing those words made Isagi’s heart drop; it felt like his insides were being twisted.

Did you not feel the same way?

Isagi stood motionless as his face paled. He felt himself grow cold as he replayed your words. Was this really happening?

He stood on the brink of tears for what seemed like an eternity before finally managing to utter a few words, "I understand, Y/n..."

Immediately regretting your actions you began to tell him the truth.

“No no no—i was just playing Yoichi! I feel the same way! I was just getting back at you after what you did on the bus!” You quickly spoke as you began to reassure him.

Isagi released a deep, heavy sigh, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. It turned out that it was all just a playful joke.

Isagi enveloped you in another hug, relief evident in his voice as he spoke, "Thank goodness, Y/n. I was genuinely terrified. You have no idea."

"Yoichi, I'm truly sorry! I promise, I only did it to get back at you," you exclaimed quickly as Isagi let go of the hug and flicked your forehead.

You let out a groan as you held your forehead, “Yoichi what the hell?!”

“I love you Y/n.”

You paused.

The unexpected comment caught you off guard, especially considering he had just playfully flicked your forehead.

Although you didnt hesitate as you replied back.

“I love you too Yoichi.”

~~~🌷~~~

It’s been many years now as you were now living your life with Isagi Yoichi.

In his presence, you experience an unparalleled level of joy that you have never felt before.

He was your other half.

Your Yin and Yang.

Your soulmate.

But you like to believe that it was he who was at the end of the other string.

You were certain that he was the one you were destined to be with. There was no doubt in your mind about it.

The red string intertwined your destinies, uniting the two of you in an unbreakable bond.

Perhaps you were meant to meet him on that bench.

Perhaps you were meant to befriend him.

Perhaps you were meant to fall in love with him.

Either way, the string served as a powerful symbol, intricately weaving your paths together, as if it were written in the stars that your fates were entwined.

The two of you are nothing without each other.

The two of you were meant to be together.

At least, thats what the red string elicited.

a/n: this was rushed omg and I couldn't find a song to match as well😢

HES SO ADORABLE THOOO OMGGGG

[mxtxfanatic]

@reinedeslys-central While I am enjoying our convo on that other post, I figured it would better to move it off of op's post since they haven't engaged with it. So in response to your last reblog, I don't think we're really disagreeing with each other for the most part, but I do have a question for you about when you said this:

It's weird for me to think he actually feels no remorse over his actions with the wen remnants though, because, hey, killing innocent people, so I guess that's why I'm more inclined to that interpretation of mixed feelings?

Why do you feel this way? Why is it "weird" that Jiang Cheng feel no remorse about this in canon? He certainly doesn't show remorse about it at any point in the text. He certainly never thinks about the wrongs he committed against the Wen remnants in the text as "wrongs." Jiang Cheng has a reputation for attacking, torturing, and killing a lot of people off the strength of his hatred for Wei Wuxian and the QishanWen along with him just being an overall bully (like at the Dafan Mountain hunt where he attacks smaller cultivators to force them to leave the competitive nighthunt). For me, to say that it would be strange for Jiang Cheng not to feel remorse is like saying it would be "strange" if Xue Yang didn't feel bad for all those villages he tricked Xiao Xingchen into massacring. Xue Yang didn't see those villagers as people deserving of life. Jiang Cheng didn't see the Wen remnants as people deserving of life, either.

Jiang Cheng brought Jiang Yanli to see Wei Wuxian because Jiang Yanli asked for it. Just like Wei Wuxian was invited to Jin Ling's 100-day celebration because Jiang Yanli asked for it, not because Jin Zixuan wanted to be nice all of a sudden. Jiang Cheng shouldn't get the credit for the idea just because he fulfilled it. On that note, the defection duel was agreed upon by Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng because Wei Wuxian refused to return the Wen remnants to the labor camp, and Jiang Cheng kept saying that it would affect the Jiang's reputation that he would do such a public thing while still a part of their clan. In this story, reputation doesn't mean shit if you have the power to put your money where your mouth is. But Jiang Cheng's character is that he is always seeking approval from figures he considers more esteemed than himself. So he could have stood up against the Jin and been fine, just like the Jin stood up for Xue Yang and were fine. His refusal to do so was pure vanity, not strategy.

As for how the Jiang were left off after the war: Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian didn't have to rebuild because Lotus Pier was never destroyed. Wen Chao and co. were living in it because it was the supervisory office. The only thing damaged in the place were the lotus symbols that the QishanWen had intentionally defaced. Whatever wealth the Jiang had was either kept in Lotus Pier, meaning it was reclaimed immediately with the reclamation of Lotus Pier, or it was transferred to Qishan, which means it was reclaimed after the war ended. On top of all that, all of the land and wealth of the QishanWen were split amongst the victorious clans of the Sunshot Campaign, likely with the biggest clans who contributed the most receiving the largest cut. Since Wei Wuxian was a one-man army key to the Sunshot Campaign's victory, that means the Jiang would get a good portion of this bounty, which means they would be richer than when the war started. And Jiang Cheng had recruited disciples during the war, while Wei Wuxian drew in cultivators during and after with his new cultivation. There's not a single piece of textual evidence that suggests the Jiang were struggling after the war, not material-wise and not reputation-wise. It was only Jiang Cheng who wanted to attach himself to the Jin Clan by any means necessary because the Jin were very overtly trying to fill the power vacuum that the QishanWen left behind in their downfall, and Jiang Cheng wanted on the boat.

[spork-supremacy]

Thinking about those animal symbols everyone had in the early seasons, specifically in a Jaya context.

like there's something so poetic to me that while lightning was associated with the sky it was represented with an octopus, a sea creature.

And water, instead of having something completely tied to the ocean like a fish, has instead a bird, which while yes can rest on water, is more adept to the sky.

I know that it's just a big conincidence because the octopus was chosen because it looked like a storm cloud, and the water bird was originally a pheonix that was to better tie Nya to Kai through the fire imagery. Also she definitely wasn't planned to be a ninja in the pilots.

But the way it all fits together is actually just so good narratively speaking, because it also show that while they are definitely opposites, like the domains of their elements and the animal that was chosen for it (he's a talker, she rather show herself through actions; He's good at adapting, she is a perfectionist that needs time to adjust. etc) They still fit together.

It's, like, so good narratively that you know it had no thought put behind it at all and just naturally happened.

[urds-lover]

˚୨୧⊹Yandere Childe x S/O⊹୨୧˚

The rain poured down in heavy sheets outside, casting dark shadows across the bedroom. The air was thick, oppressive, almost as if the storm itself had seeped into the room with you. Childe stood across from you, his eyes burning with something darker than the jealousy that had been simmering in him all night.

The low light flickered across his sharp features, giving him an almost predatory edge. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his clothes were still soaked from the rain, but none of that seemed to matter to him. His gaze was fixed entirely on you.

"You know what kills me?" he muttered, voice rough, low. "Everywhere we go, it’s the same. They’re all drawn to you like moths to a flame." His words were laced with bitterness, his usual teasing tone replaced with something far more dangerous. "And you… you just let it happen."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity in his eyes. “Childe, it’s not like that. I don’t—"

His eyes darkened, cutting you off as he took a step closer. “No, you don’t see it, do you? How every single one of them watches you, wanting to get close to you. And I’m just supposed to stand by, pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

The air between you crackled with tension, the storm outside a mere whisper compared to the tempest building inside the room. You could feel it, the darkness, the possessiveness in his voice, wrapping itself around you like a tight noose. And yet, it was intoxicating, the way his jealousy burned so fiercely for you.

Before you could respond, his hand slipped behind his back, and when he brought it forward again, there it was — a sleek, black pistol. It gleamed ominously in the dim light as he placed it in your hands, his fingers brushing over yours as if grounding you in the moment.

“What you’ve forgotten is that the heart beating inside your chest is not yours,” he snarled, his voice low, dangerous, yet undeniably tender in its own twisted way. His grip on your hand tightened as his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s mine.”

You stared at him, breath catching in your throat, the weight of the gun and his words settling deep in your chest. “Childe…”

He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, and his voice dropped to a whisper, filled with dark promise. “And if my heart has stopped working, then pull that trigger, sweetheart. Kill the rest of me. I’m nothing if I’m not the reason you breathe.”

The storm inside the room swirled even faster, and your pulse raced, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his words. The gun in your hand felt like a symbol, something far darker and more twisted than just a simple gift. It was his way of binding you to him, of showing you that you were his, completely, undeniably.

“Childe…” you whispered, voice soft but steady. “I love you. You know that, right? I don’t care about anyone else.”

He stared at you, his eyes wild, like a man on the edge of a cliff, one step away from losing himself completely. “I know,” he murmured, but his voice was thick with something darker. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help being jealous. It’s like a fire inside me, every time I see them looking at you, thinking they could ever take you away from me.”

You took a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. “You don’t have to be jealous, Childe. You have me. No one else matters.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he stepped closer, his fingers trailing along your jawline, the touch feather-light but possessive all the same. “You say that, but it doesn’t change how I feel. You’re mine. Mine.” His voice dropped lower, darker, as if he was speaking to the very core of you. “And no one else will ever have you.”

Your heart raced at his words, at the intensity in his eyes, but you couldn’t deny the pull between you. His possessiveness, his jealousy, it was dark, consuming, but it was also intoxicating, like a poison you couldn’t help but drink. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered, your fingers curling around his, the gun still resting between your hands. “I’m yours, Childe. Always.”

His grip tightened on your hand, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat of him seeped into you, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I love you so much it scares me. It consumes me,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “The thought of losing you to someone else... I can’t bear it.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers trailing up to brush through his wet hair. “You won’t lose me,” you repeated, your voice stronger now. “No one else could ever have me. I love you, and only you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression hard to read, but then he let out a low, shuddering breath, his forehead pressing against yours. “I believe you,” he murmured, though the possessiveness in his voice remained. “But you have no idea what you do to me. Every time I see you, every time you’re near me, it’s like you’re all I can think about. You’re everything to me. I don’t care if it’s obsessive or selfish. I need you.”

His words, dark and filled with raw need, sent a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. “I want you just as much,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “You’re the only one I see, the only one I want. You own me just as much as I own you.”

Childe’s lips brushed yours in a brief, searing kiss before pulling back, his eyes blazing with that dangerous, possessive fire you’d come to know so well. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting anyone else even think they have a chance.”

You smirked, leaning up to kiss him again, slower this time, savoring the darkness that bound the two of you together. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The storm outside raged on, but in the dim light of your bedroom, the two of you were caught in your own storm — a tempest of dark love, jealousy, and obsession that tied your hearts together in a way no one else could ever understand.

[deadbaguette]

I don't want to be repetitive but I love how you make the characters so tender and loving,,, so here's a weird request, do you have any scars hc? I mean, do (insert character) hide them? Or let their lover kiss and caress them? Oh, which characters I mean you say? Your pick, have fun!

It’s not repetitive at all 🥹 I love LOVE LOVE it when people describe my art as tender and loving because that’s absolutely my favourite thing to draw. But omggg scar headcannons … you just spoke to a specific part of my brain bcs I love thinking about scars, beauty marks, etc. I don’t have the time to make a fully fleshed out scar map, BUT alongside a small doodle for the character I have a definitive scar map for (Diomedes) I can share all the scars I hc and how they’re treated :D AUUGSGDH thank you for giving me the excuse to do this I always have so answering your asks <3

Scar hcs:

Firstly I think the only character I have a set in stone scar hc for is Diomedes! I draw him more often than I would like to admit, so the ones on his face are: one across his left eyebrow, one by his lip/mouth, one across the nose, one on the right cheek, one on the shoulder, one on the foot. He is the most scarred character I draw, and this is largely due to the fact that I hc him (it’s probably also to an extent canon) as reckless in battle. He’s not a pristine clean warrior, he’s all too familiar with blood and war. He carries the reckless scars he gained in Thebes with the other Epogoni throughout his adulthood, and for so long they served as a reminder of where he came from. Death and violence that’s haunted him throughout his entire life, and these scars are symbols of that. So, what’s a few more to gain in Troy? It’s not like it’ll make him look any less battle scarred if he gains a few more. He hasn’t had a good reason to care about his life until now, scars not only remind him of that but also make him feel like he can’t change it. But… I like to imagine the people that care for him (whether this be Odysseus, Sthenelus, or in an AU Penelope) treat them with such delicacy and care that it almost creates an entire other association for them. Sthenelus gently tending to a wound that will surely scar, so that when it does heal it no longer carries the association of a mistake in battle but instead a tender moment shared between them and them only. Odysseus and Penelope kissing the scars on Diomedes’ face is their favourite pasttime, because if he won’t love them (he feels indifferent to them), they absolutely will. A tender kiss to the cheek, a gentle kiss to just above his eye, a quick peck against the side of his mouth, a loving press against his nose that they would have to tiptoe to reach. Diomedes never felt any love, hatred, or feelings in general towards his scars. He never made any more to hide them, he wore what was convenient. If his new scars weren’t covered by the clothes he would wear, so be it. But in a way he’s grown to love them, or at least the memories and feelings they hold.

Will be more hcs below the cut!

Achilles is very unscarred. Like the only scar on his body by the time he was dead was the one on his heel. Patroclus is also relatively unscarred, but he has a few. There is one on his hand that Achilles loves to kiss, but like in a very specific way. I hc Patroclus to almost always the one to initiate the physical contact, and he tends to cradle Achilles’ face with his hand (literally one of my fav form of physical touch) and Achilles always leans into it and kisses the scar on his hand. Patroclus never really liked his scars, so he tends to cover them up. But I think I believe Achilles loved wholeheartedly every part of Patroclus and movements he’s spent with him and vice versa. Every scar he’s gained will have a story to tell, so even if Patroclus doesn’t show it to others, there is a story that Achilles will hear. It would be something as dramatic as gaining it in battle or something as small as “you got this when you fell from a tree? I love it.” They’re as much friends as they are lovers, and they actively choose to continue to be in each other’s lives. If this means sitting together recounting the tales of how Patroclus nicked himself carving wood a few years ago and scarred, so be it.

Hector… I need to talk about this one!!! So normal and sane about him. He’s undoubtedly scarred, what with him fighting at the front but he’s no Achilles. Hector hides his scars but not because he’s ashamed of them, it’s quite the contrary because he in a strange way enjoys looking at them, but rather that he knows it causes his family worry. Hector loves his family so much, and he sees the worry and sadness in their eyes when he comes back with new scars to Andromache. How she’ll stare at them like it’s another piece of him lost, and it won’t be long until he is wholly gone too. He hides them so she can focus on the him that’s there now, and comforts her saying that he will come back to her. When Kassandra looks at the new scars on his chest and she can’t help but sigh. She told him to be more careful, but truly in the end they’re both fighting a fruitless fight against the fates. Kassandra knows this, and she keeps count of how many her brother has until he gains his last lethal one. He’s hiding them so as to not cause his sister distress. She knows he will never believe her if she tells him what will happen to him, but she cannot help but mourn for the living man.

Agamemnon has quite a few scars. He’s the lord of men, the shepard of the people, and wealthy beyond what he needs. The scars don’t mean much to him, and if anything they’re even more a testament to his power. He’s no Achilles who can come out of battle unscarred, but perhaps that’s the difference in what makes him the leader of the Achaeans. The scars he bears are a symbol of his humanity and but don’t take away from his power and image. He SURVIVED these scars. But deep down? I do think it’s a little more complicated than this. I don’t think I’ve discussed Agamemnon that much, but I do find his character really interesting. His family name is uhh tarnished to say the least, but throughout all of it he’s had his brother with him. Agamemnon cares a lot about Menelaus, he goes to war for him, he sacrifices his daughter for him, and they endure 10 years of war together. Agamemnon maybe doesn’t care about his own, but he remembers every scar Menelaus has. Like that one scene in book 3 yk where he just starts doing all the dramatics of MENELAUS I WILL AVENGE YOU MY DEAR BROTHER and Menelaus is just sitting there… ever so slightly wounded… being like brother it’s fine and Agamemnon still goes like MACHAON DROP EVERYTHING AND TEND TO HIS WOUND IMMEDIATELY I WILL SLAUGHTER THESE DISHONOURABLE TROJANS FOR DARING TO LOOK IN YOUR DIRECTION MENELAUS. It’s just kinda silly and sweet how much he cares about his little brother. Ever scrape Menelaus got growing up I imagine it was Agamemnon tending to it, and remembers them all to prevent him getting hurt further. As an older brother, he made it his sworn duty to make sure Menelaus grew up strong and out of harms way.

[thecoolerliauditore]

lrb there's something about the way this fandom is so into things like symbolism and personal interpretation but like. alot of the times it's framed through a lens of x thing we should agree on NOW instead of encouraging variety. the sun moon stars whatever the fuck stuff is like the most egregious example imo but it just happens that when something gets popular enough that's what's treated as What Really Happened (e.g. scott raising his sword to show his victory at the end of LL being in everyone's subconscious as a result of the curses animation)

personally i feel like all media interpretation often just comes down to a juggling act of what happened and applying personal thoughts onto it. but then you get this weird book club situation with fandom and interpretations start getting treated more like argumentative essays than analysis.

[kieranvalentinesboyfriend]

Sam Winchester and parallels to Christ

Despite religion and religious imagery being extremely prominent throughout the 2005 tv show Supernatural, one import figure in both Catholicism and Christianity is missing, Jesus Christ himself. I found this strange when I was watching the show and while I still do, I think that we as an audience can attribute a great many “Christ-like” traits to one of the main characters, Sam Winchester. He, just as Jesus did, must go though a great many periods of suffering in order to prove himself, with one of these periods even being referred to as a trial. However, unlike Christ, Sam is not able to attain holiness and absolution in the eyes of the Lord.

Religious symbolism is rife throughout most of Sam’s plot lines, with him often being cast as the pious believer as a character foil to Dean who is often cast as a very sinful person. This is shown when a town outlaws drinking, gambling and premarital sex in order to gain. God’s favour and Sam remarks that those things are “90%” of Dean’s personality. It’s also revealed that Sam prays every night and has done so since childhood. This connection of Sam to God s further strengthened when in season 15 Sam and God or in this case Chuck are rather literally tethered by the bullet that Sam shot him with. Another thing to note about this is that the “bullet” is made of Sam’s flesh and blood, further showing that despite Sam constantly praying and giving to God it ultimately only leads him to be harmed.

The God that exists in Supernatural is no longer the hallowed name that we all know, this version of God only takes, instead of giving like the merciful version of the Lord that children are told about who helps and cares for humanity. This God has existed for so long that he only knows boredom, and consequently created Dean and Sam to entertain him. Dean was always His favourite with Chuck intending for him to become the vessel of the archangel Micheal, a holy and noble job. Sam on the other hand, was created for only one purpose, and that was to become the vessel to Lucifer, Dean’s opposition. Sam was never created, or intended to be holy or even able to attain that title, even despite his longing to do so. He can pray and give himself to the Lord, but is unable to attain or regain purity.

Sam must, through the trials, combat evil by closing the gates of hell, in a way reminiscent of how Christ had to suffer the persecution, bearing off the cross and eventual crucifixion. Jesus was always aware of his fate, just as Sam was during the trials. They both understood that in order to better humanity, they would have to suffer and eventually die. The trials were Sam’s cross to bear, just as Jesus was only able to accept minimal help throughout his suffering. This help, for Sam comes in the form of Dean, who helps kill the hellhound and takes care of Sam, just as the bystander who carried Jesus’s cross for him for a time. They both were able to help share the load, even if it was only a temporary relief.

Sam is also referred to throughout the show as an abomination and unclean, by both himself and other characters, particularly in plot lines that are heavily rooted in religion. During the trials in season 8, Sam recalls a time when Dean was reading a book to him about the knights of king Arthur and their search for the holy grail and Sam says that despite wishing that he could go on a similar quest he knows that it’s impossible as he’s “unclean.” This further cements how despite being the most openly religious and pious character in the main cast of the show, apart from Castiel, he is not considered holy enough to serve the Lord. This is due mostly to what happened to him as a baby when he was fed demon blood by Azazel in order to groom him into becoming the antichrist and leader of the demon army. As I discussed in my last essay on Sam Winchester, this is a very obvious metaphor for CSA (child sexual assault), especially due to the line “so he could bleed in my mouth.” This quote in particular pinpoints this original “sin” as the catalyst for the subsequent events of Sam’s life.

The theme of purity and by extension, holiness is incredibly prominent in Sam’s character and plot lines, especially during the demon blood arc and subsequently any one that involved religious themes or ideals. Because of the fact that he’s “impure”, Sam is unable to reach “true holiness.” The closest that he ever came during the 15 season and 327 episode runtime of the show was during the trails in season 8. Not only do the trails bear a striking resemble to the trials that Jesus himself had to endure, specifically the 40 days in the desert, but they also help to “cleanse” him of his sins and wrong doing. Whether they were committed on him by others on done by his on hand seems to not matter to the God that exists in Supernatural as they all bear the same consequence. These perceived sins render Sam impure, unclean and unholy.

All of this is further highlighted during the season 15 reveal that Sam, Dean, Castiel and by extension all of the characters in the show are nothing but playthings for the all powerful God, or as he calls himself, Chuck. Sam Winchester is not special, not holy and not favoured by the Lord. He is but one of many, existing only through the lense of how entertaining he can be to his God. It’s revealed that he was created on a whim by a bored God who wanted something interesting. He, along with Dean and Cas, find out that they are one of the many versions of themselves that God or Chuck has created, and that they have only survived this long because they were interesting to him.

Another period of suffering that Sam goes through for the greater good of humanity is his time in the cage. During the season 5 finale, Sam Winchester, once again gives up his autonomy in order to save people. He allows Lucifer to use him as a vessel, Sam then overpower’s Lucifer and causes them to both fall into the cage the Lucifer was originally trapped in. Sam, in many ways does this as a repentance for his sins. In this case, it’s the sin of allowing himself to be manipulated and groomed into drinking demon blood and subsequently, freeing Lucifer from his cage. This action results in Sam being stuck in the cage with Lucifer, where it is heavily implied that he was not only tortured for thousands of years in every way imaginable, but also raped and sexually assaulted. When he is finally freed, it’s only his physical form, or body, leaving him soulless. While he does eventually regain his soul, he is so traumatised that he is hospitalised for a good amount of time. During this period, he is constantly experiencing flashbacks and hallucinations of Lucifer, in a manner that is heavily reminiscent of PTSD. However, like most heavy topics in the show, this is fairly quickly brushed over.

To conclude, Sam Winchester is one of the most pious and prayerful characters in the show, which is a stark contrast to his brother. However, he was never intended to be a holy man and was thus doomed from the start. Despite suffering plentifully, he is incapable of reaching sainthood or canonisation as he will never be holy, clean, or pure enough in the eyes of the angels or the Lord.

[snakes-and-fluff]

Contemplating when blood is explictly shown in Milgram MVs and for what purpose. (Plenty of shots of blood and bloodied people below the cut)

Both of Muu's songs show a pretty clear-cut image of the murder, blood and all.

But it's interesting to note that, while Muu does show realistic blood in both MVs, in After Pain it's only for a single shot: most of the shots of Rei's body have her covered in a neon green liquid instead - the same liquid inside the hourglass. But in It's Not My Fault, while the hourglass does return, it's not used as a stand-in for blood this time, only showing realistic shots of blood at the scene.

Realistic blood is again shown in The Purge March and although this whole scene is metaphorical, it is highly likely that this is what the state of the actual weapon would have been.

Some of the blood in MeMe appears to be representative of real events (though the circumstances around the murder are still so vague I can't say for sure), but some of it is clearly over-exaggerated for dramatic effect and not a representation what literally happened.

Sometimes blood is purely symbolic, like in Cat (in addition it is coloured pitch-black, even on Hinako's face when the lighting should make it appear brighter).

Similar to the above, the blood in Bring It On is symbolic of Fuuta's guilt, but is portrayed with more realistic colouration.

Then you have Haruka's weird midground, where he has blood in both his MVs, and both are heavily stylized (albeit in different ways). If the shot at the end of All-Knowing and All-Agony is any indication, he strangled his victim which should have been a bloodless death, but he has engaged in literal bloody activity before (killing pets), so his blood appears to be both metaphorical and literal.

At the end of Deep Cover, Kotoko stands covered in neon pink blood, chess pieces representing the other prisoners scattered about her feet. But the only pieces that are shown are those voted Innocent in T1 - those she has not yet attacked. So the blood here is not representative of any particular event, but rather her intentions.

But if that's the case, what does that say for Double, which portrays John standing in a train, dripping with blood the wrong colour as he attacks mannequins? Is this merely a mental block he has because he cannot clearly remember the events? Or, like Kotoko's similar theming above, is it purely metaphorical, indicating his emotions rather than his actions?

Then we get to Milgram Enigma Number 1, Mahiru. I Love You undoubtedly shows realistic blood, but whether it is literal or not is left very unclear. If the only bloodstain present was the one on his torso I'd be more inclined to believe it was truly all a metaphor; a betrayed or bleeding heart. But that doesn't explain the stain on the sleeve. And of course, it begs the question: if it is metaphorical, what is it representing? Fuuta showed guilt by recoiling at the blood on his hands, and Kazui showed remorse and how he feels like a monster by tearing a dove apart. But we don't see Mahiru cause this wound, nor does she react to it. As of right now I don't understand enough about Mahiru to form a concrete conclusion but if the trend in the other MVs is anything to go by, I'm afraid that these bloodstains might be more literal than I want to believe.

Interesting to note that Fuuta is the only character to show blood in his T1 MV but not the second, and both Yuno and Shidou show no blood in either MV (ironically enough for Shidou, as things like rotting fruit have to take the place of organs and blood instead)

[cykelops]

there are multiple scenes in transformers one where the Autobots joyfully kill rank and file soldiers (and you can argue all day long about it. they could be battle drones (but they show emotion so they aren’t), the damage done to them could be fixable so long as their sparks aren’t damaged (bumblebee cut them every which way, so not likely he missed their sparks)) but Optimus is adamantly against executing Sentinel Prime like only he has some arbitrary right to due process.

this is not a plot hole. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature. Optimus is prone to hold honor and symbolism above all, and executing the previous leadership does just look bad. he doesn’t mean bad by it but he’s assigned sentinel the weight of what he represents, and megatron sees only his individual sin and those of everyone who made his reign possible. Optimus sees megatron’s point that everyone should be held equally accountable, he just doesn’t think it’s sustainable to keep a civilization upright. he has to compromise. megatron sees his point, he just doesn’t think a civilization like that deserves to exist. so he wants it burned down.

[knivestothroats]

Buck visiting Tommy at the lodge out of a sense of obligation is so infinitely hilarious to me. He's just like "Bye boyfriend I'm gonna go visit a murderer in the woods for the weekend bc they've got someone new to torture and I feel bad." Movie night with your ex captor and their new new captive.

I do imagine that Fletcher would be nicer when Buck is around/coming over soon, and Tommy would absolutely notice and latch onto that. However I do think he would be very wary after seeing the scars on Buck's face and Buck would be equal parts creeped out and horrified by Tommy's utter lack of scars (at least from before Fletcher).

I for one would fucking LOVE to see how Tommy reacts to getting his first permanent scar from Fletcher and all the emotions that come with that. Also would Fletcher tattoo their symbol on Tommy like they did on Buck in the other au?

Wow this turned out way longer than I intended, sorry but also not sorry, I'm way too interested in everything that's going on with this au to not be asking questions

i don't think nico would even be able to process the situation if buck told him lol

might throw it over to @victimeyez for more insight bc he has discussed with me tommy's feelings on not having any scars to show what he's been through, and also discussed the idea of what if tommy did get a scar that stuck? would he have a sick sense of satisfaction?

so, whether or not that does end up happening in pro/vic at some point, we'd have to decide timeline stuff OR just say fuck it, it's an au, he gets his first scar from fletcher

I hadn't thought about the tattoo but... I am now

Fletcher probably would be nicer when Buck was around. truly Boyz Nite��️ with the ex-captive and current captive. But also... victimeyez and i were brainstorming on a car ride and the idea came up of Buck showing up and Fletcher being like "you can't see tommy right now" because Fletcher had just hurt him or locked him in a stress position or something. Buck would freak out and try to intervene and Fletcher would be like. well i can't NOT manipulate this.

[pynkhues]

I kept thinking about how much Louis bases his worth on money and work and realized that he never really experienced poverty. He was well-off as a human, he struggled briefly in Paris but since he got with Armand he pretty much lived the life of a luxury lmao. Nothing comparing to the poverty that Lestat and and Armand experienced. Ngl, l was a little dissapointed when it turned out that Louis took everything in divorce. There's a line in iwtw when he was like: he could make me kill children but not part with my money, so what would it take to make Louis willingly part with his money? Can you ever take the capitalist out of him? I really wanted to see him living in a hovel wearing rags like he did at certain point in the books not live that rich capitalistic lifestyle lmao, but I don't think we gonna see it :(

Mm, he never experienced poverty per se, no, at least not in the way Armand, Lestat and Claudia all have, but I think Louis' relationship with money is very complicated, in no small part because money is used against him as a form of racial violence when he's a young man in New Orleans.

I've talked about it on here a couple of times now, but I've been doing a lot of research lately on the culture of money for a project that I'm working on, because it's systemic failures to understand that money is not an objective thing, but something that wields enormous social power, that allows for financial abuse to happen. While I'm researching it specifically through a domestic violence lens, there's a lot of crossover with that when it comes to racism and government failures in acknowledging how money is used to further entrench not just inequity, but racial violence (I've actually been particularly researching dowry and remittance abuse too, which is fascinating and uniquely awful [not dowries and remittance payments themselves, but the way they can be weaponised particularly in culturally blind systems like we have in Australia]).

The first few episodes are extremely clear that Louis' experiences as a professional man have been limited by his race, but they're also clear that he's a victim of financial abuse by white society men who'd pay him a fraction of his worth in exchange for a seat at the table they clearly don't think he belongs at. This is pretty much said explicitly at the card game scene in 1.01 (and not really here nor there for this post, but I think a vital point of connection in that Lestat sees this for what it is and maintains the ruse while helping Louis to cheat a game that's rigged against him).

Louis swallows it because he's ambitious, yes, but also because he's the sole provider left in his family given nobody else in his family has the want or capacity to work.

We don't know the entire situation with his father's sugar plantation, but the implication is that it wasn't in good shape when he died, which is a part of the reason Louis became a pimp. He needed to make money to keep his family not just financially secure, but thriving, but at the same time, Louis' desire to earn is, in my opinion, about more than just personal ambition and providing, it's about social power, autonomy and independence. For him, money is symbolically something that was used to keep him low and to keep him out of what he knew he deserved, and I don't really think that's changed for him. He uses it to buy what he wants, yes, in art and interviews and blood donors, but it's also I think about having social power over the society that once exercised repressive and racist power over him.

I think the version of the character we get on the show would never give that up, and honestly, I wouldn't want him to? I think thematically it's too important now as it's tied inherently to Louis having both options and autonomy, and I don't really like the implications for his character about what it'd mean to give it all up.

As for Armand - we don't actually know if he ends up with nothing post-s2. Yes, Louis keeps the Dubai apartment and kicks Armand out, but I kind of assume they'll have done some sort of asset split (although I do imagine Louis will take most of it, because of his association with money and power). Given how rich they seemed to be, I imagine even if Armand does get a fraction of what Louis keeps, it'd probably still be an eye-watering amount of money, haha.