#apologies because i am tired and not very coherent

[mihii-i]

hear me out..... mizu x fem reader, a oneshot, smut, they're already together, they are out in town as 'husband and wife' while they obtain information. The reader is a brat, Mizu literally fucks the ever living SHIT out of her. Teasing and mocking until the reader is blabbing out apologies that are barely even coherent. SHI ION KNOW WHEN STRAPS WERE MADE BUT IF YOU BUST THAT OUT I WOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL 🙏 and of course aftercare with lots of praise yk bc if ur gonna call me a slut at least kiss my face and call me ur pretty slut thank YEW

chimes of the shamisen.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, let’s ignore the episode’s events and the shindo dojo shit because yay sex, freaky asf obv, but first angst bc im evil kitty, bratty ass reader, argument, mizu is lowkey at fault for it too tho, but reader is still a bitch, hardcore sesbian lex, little bit of soft stuff sprinkled because I cannot write mizu going full on rough and angy with her lover, it feels ooc she would be atleast a little sweet :(, strapon use/harigata, the strap legit came outta nowhere, horny shit god, i genuinely don’t know if this is classified as degradation but I hate degrading so hope not, crying, really fucking rough I don’t think I ever wrote something this insane, not proofread.

A/N: ugh this lowkey turned out bad cause my tea was bad but im loving the stream of mizu requests I am absolutely feral over this woman like I want to kiss and hug her in my arms while also wanting her to tear off my clothes it ain’t funny anymore I GENUINELY DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT WRITING EXTRA FREAKY MIZU BUT YER WELCOME. 🕯️

Blisteringly cold sweeps of wind swayed in the air in a near painful freeze as crystals of snowflakes sunk upon touching the bare skin of your hand, your tense shoulder pushed up against Mizu’s cloaked one in an attempt to seek a sliver of warmth against the stinging cold. It was currently nearing the end of the nullifying freeze of winter, spring approaching in supposedly a few weeks from now in hopes of thawing out the erected statures blanketed in a gentle white.

Both you and Mizu navigated your way through the dips and trails of each snow heaped pathway in the city, remaining side by side as you two shouldered past the hordes of people pouring in through Kyoto’s streets. Throughout your support for her during the perilous tread to find the remaining men she sought to kill, you had assumed the title of her supposed ‘wife,’ while Mizu, still under the guise of a man, displayed herself as your husband.

Honestly, it was quite difficult to fathom why you were trailing behind this bloodthirsty woman, who would snap apart the bones of any living creature she came across for the sake of her wretched revenge—pulsing through every vein in her body, like an unrest that compelled her stubborn soul to live on. You always questioned yourself as you trudged by her side, eyes frequently staring down at your own feet buried in the thick layers of snow to ponder why your heart raced for a demon presumed to have nothing but hatred oozing from any noticeable crevice of light within her.

You nudged your fingers against her palm, reaching over as your knuckles came into contact with the calloused ridges of her own. Almost in a seemingly desperate sense, your fingertips danced along her skin occasionally as if you were pleading to hold her hand, only to end up cupping your hand around nothing as she pulled away with each gesture of yours seeking her affection. Mizu subtly nodded her head toward you, tilting her chin up to meet your gaze through the orange tint of her glasses.

“Not now. Focus on getting more information regarding Heiji Shindo.”

It was getting tiring. Annoying even.

Mizu initially proposed the idea of cloaking yourselves under the cover of a husband and wife to seek information, to which you agreed. Considering the two of you had been together for quite some time, you believed that it wouldn’t hurt to cover yourself with an impenetrable front. Surely your false marriage wouldn’t get questioned considering how touchy and affectionate you were with Mizu, proudly believing that such a plan would remain the same as usual.

Unfortunately for you, it might have to be time to come to terms with the fact that her revenge mattered more than you.

All of her recent actions reflected a strict focus to the goal she had set, refusing to indulge in even the smallest of pleasures with her own ‘wife.’ You constantly strode alongside her through Kyoto’s crowded infrastructure, shielded by the overarching shadow of her kasa shrouding her face as she opened her mouth to inquire of the Shindo Dojo’s whereabouts left and right.

You couldn’t bear to see her disappointed expression whenever she was ignored or directed incorrectly, one of the residents even leading her to a pleasure house, much to her discomfort. However, nothing served to dilate the pit in your stomach more than Mizu brushing you off, rolling her shoulder past you whenever she was fixated on gathering information about some piece of shit connected to one of the white men hiding in Japan.

You knew she didn’t hate you. In fact, Mizu loved you like you were the most precious thing she had ever set her sights on. Held you and whispered in your ears that you were one of the only people that ever mattered to her, and how grateful she was to have you, all while you were hemmed in her overflowing grasp of affection. Yet, you were unable to help the twinge of discomposure swirling in your chest at how…comfortable she felt neglecting you like this.

Of course in retaliation, you began to bite back at her lack of feeling towards you ever since you reached Kyoto under the disguise, growing increasingly despondent to the words that left her mouth. The annoyance alone she was able to inflict on you in these past few days was more than enough to fuel a minuscule revenge of your own. You’d always snap back toward Mizu, words tinged with a short of sharp edge to them, & contrasting the usual gentle demeanor you often displayed for her.

Looking around the cramped lanes, you remained to Mizu’s side as her own eyes traced every inch of the vicinity, briefly tilting her glasses along the bridge of her nose to capture a clear view as darkness clouded the sky in a shrouding night. Rays of moonlight kissing the rippling bodies of water engulfing the bridge off at the end, accompanied by the muted lamps provided a faint expansion of light within such a late portion of day, some starting to die out into a smoky grey one by one.

A disappointed huff fell from Mizu’s lips at the sight of nightfall descending upon the two of you, striking a halt in the investigation that had been dragged out for the whole day. Although you’d never admit it to her, you wanted to breathe out a prolonged sigh of relief once your info gathering induction had ceased for the day, unsure of how much longer you could rasp out another word about the black market merchant.

“(Name). We’re done for today, let me know if you find a decent place to rest.”

“Shouldn’t you look for one yourself? It’s the husband’s job to provide obviously.” You muttered, loud enough for Mizu to hear as you rolled your eyes.

“This is a false front and you know it. Stop being so stuck up and just listen to me.”

“Or what? Fucking hell Mizu, is it stuck up to ask for a little attention from my girlfriend?”

The sudden announcement of your relationship’s actual title cause her eyes to shoot wide open, cocking an eyebrow in evident disrelish toward your lack of compliance.

“You know full well that we’re in the middle of something important, and you’re simply acting like an attention seeking child!” Mizu hissed under her breath, attempting to keep her voice subtle to avert any attention away from the two of you.

“I don’t care. You just brush me off like I don’t exist when you’re clearly supposed to act like my husband.”

“Quit acting so fucking bratty and maybe I’ll give you what you want after we’re done.”

“Forget it, Mizu. Can’t believe I’m in love with a demon like you.”

You could almost hear Mizu’s breath hitch in her throat, swallowing back a lump as her lips remained parted in a frown. Her eyes roamed over you in disdain, brows knitting together as her eyelids lowered into a contorted expression of annoyance and hurt.

Regret clawed at your mind as you took in Mizu’s expression, clearly not displaying a particular fixation on hurt alone, but definitely harboring a chagrin of sorts. You felt your heart ache, realizing the words you had just uttered to your lover, unable to reflect upon what you just said to the woman you supposedly loved as she turned her back to you. Was she leaving you? Right here?

You jolted up at the sight of her head tilted over her shoulder to glance back at you, a cold expression still carved onto her already wounded gaze.

“Are you coming or not?”

Clearing your throat, you managed a soundless nod in response, the crunch of your footsteps being the only thing breaking the silence fostered between the two of you. A surge of anxiety crept up within you, the bitter taste flat against your tongue from the sheer feeling along worse than raw bile. What the hell was the matter with you? You claim you love her yet you struck a blow at one of her deepest insecurities? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how disgusted you were with yourself right now.

Your footsteps abruptly ceased their movements as soon as you noticed Mizu’s own feet, stationary and sunken in the snow as she eyed the large wooden building with a sign hammered along a plank off to its right in a messy fashion. She immediately pivoted in the direction of the paper door upfront, pressing her fingers to the wall to push it aside and make way as it disappeared the further it was slid.

Despite following suit, you had completely blanked out, mind fogged with nothing but a storm of plaguing thoughts and raw hatred for your earlier words lurching at your chest. In this very moment, you couldn’t even begin to describe the guilt gnawing at the back of your head over and over. Similarly to a demon whispering in your ear endlessly to send you spiraling into madness.

No. You don’t get to put the blame on a demon. You demeaned your beloved as an onryō despite claiming to love her. The only real demon here was you.

A swift tap dragged along your shoulder shook you out of your jaundiced trance, Mizu’s unfeeling eyes stabbing through yours as she stared you down.

“Come on. There’s a room available.”

You cocked your head in confusion, not following the series of events that followed while your mind was wandering off. A sigh pushed past her tongue as she looked over at you, an unamused look painted all over her face.

“The room. We’re staying at an inn for the night. Then we continue investigating tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay..”

That was all you could whisper out. Even speaking to her reminded you of that pained expression etched onto her face, draining the affection thay once presided in her blue eyes.

As soon as the door to your room slid open, such a minute detail presenting itself before you twisted like a dagger to your heart, feeling it drop to your stomach like a heavy stone. The two futons situated on the floor, one each big enough to fit both you and Mizu on it, yet still having two seperate beds against the floor far apart from each other. Was this some higher power’s way of telling you that your relationship was done for?

Not wanting to be held back by spacing out again, you begrudgingly set your foot down within the confines of the room, stepping into it as you were drawn to the futon on the far left. Kneeling beside it, a somber tiredness masked your face as you stared down at the fabric, with a few slight wrinkles adorning its stretched edges. The futon was quite spacious as it was splayed out on the tatami mat, oddly comfortable as well as you ran a hand along the surface.

You paused for a moment, slowly turning a head behind your shoulder until you caught sight of Mizu in your periphery, intently transfixed on her grasping at the kasa in her hands before setting it down beside the end of her own futon, her tinted glasses following alongside her cloak in a small pile of discarded clothes—if you could even call such accessories that. The weights strapped to her arms and legs also loosened to the floor with a clank, joining the discard pile as she took in a deep breath.

Mizu almost immediately plopped herself atop the futon without so much as looking over at you, back facing you as she lay on her side with the weight of her head pressured atop her arm.

“Blow out the candle for me, will you?”

Averting your gaze from her back, you sluggishly padded over to the candle, each step you took burning your heels as you felt like you were carrying the deadweight of your own body. A quick rush of wind was expelled from your lungs as you puckered your lips to blow out the candle, the flame flickering momentarily before vanishing into a thin trail of smoke wavering in the air and stinging your nostrils.

The strong miasma of smoke you were close to began to swirl within your throat within the darkness of the room, breath hitching as your head fogged up from discomfort. Perhaps you should refrain from inhaling smoke, only idiots come close enough to purposefully take in the scent of an air that could beset your lungs.

Only idiots hurt the person they love, much less if that person has been hurt enough in their past.

Returning to your futon, you also proceeded to lay on your side facing away from Mizu, fighting back the urge to want to see her gorgeous face. You closed your eyes, albeit a bit hesitantly as you screwed them shut, wallowing the quiet, wordless atmosphere fostered in the darkness once dimly illuminated by a tiny flame.

Or rather, former silence.

Your eyes almost immediately shot open at the abrupt chime of a distant shamisen echoing miles away in the dead of night. The smooth strums continued to ring in your ears in a soothing, yet harsh melody. Strange. They often didn’t hold any kabuki theater plays this late at night. You remained perplexed at the endless melodic chimes of the shamisen, yet oddly relaxed. Unable to comprehend the reason behind such a noise drifting through the streets so late, yet enjoying the comfort it enveloped you in.

Such a shame your comfort tore away from you, this night possibly being the last night you could even lay eyes upon your lover. You were sure you’d shattered everything you had with one simple comment alone. In this moment, you were no better than the man who had betrayed her in the past.

No.

No. You could never be apart from Mizu.

She was everything to you. You were nothing but determined to repair what you had supposedly shattered, using all you had to get the pieces to snap back together as with every ounce of internal strength you could muster if that’s what it took.

You sat up in one fluid motion, weakly dragging yourself over to Mizu’s futon while swallowing back the urge to just head back and sleep, ignoring the notion that this wouldn’t make it any better. Her body rose and fell with each breath she took in her slumber, eyes shut with a weary expression even as she slept. Without hesitation, you adjusted yourself to curl up directly behind her in a spooning position of sorts, arms encircling her waist almost immediately as you pressed your nose against her nape.

Mizu only shot you a quizzical glare, blinking groggily at the sight of your arms tightly fastened around her waist.

“Your bed is over there, you know.”

“These futons are enough for two people. Besides, I want to sleep next to my husband.” You muttered against her skin, breath fluttering against her nape in a warm embrace. Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the false title the two of you had to act on, muscles tensing up in your grasp.

“What if I kill you? I am a demon after all.” She reiterated, a bitter edge cutting a pang of anguish directly into the existing wound of guilt embedded within you. “I don’t care..” you choked out in a shaky voice, dragging your lower lip between your teeth to suppress the tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mizu.”

…

The entire room fell silent once more, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest as soon as you felt the warm embrace of Mizu’s arms tightly curled around you, squeezing you to her chest as her face was buried within your hair.

“I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that either.”

You shook your head against her chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as Mizu’s expression relaxed, softening as she held you close to herself. Both of you remained in eachother’s embrace for a bit, relishing in the warmth of your wholehearted adoration. Despite the ridges that walled between you two at times, you would always come back to her. You know full well that she meant everything to you, while she reciprocated the same. She only hushed any more apologies spilling profusely from you, holding you tighter.

“Please..Mizu..let me do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all.”

You’ll never forget the sudden flare of hunger roused in her pupils as those words vibrated in her ears, bare hands outlining your body up to dig into your shoulders. Her voice came out in a quiet hum as she pursed her lips together, shaky hands fighting the ravenous desire to yank down the shoulders of your kimono right then and there.

“Anything?”

It didn't take long for you to catch onto her implication, your breath fanning in a series of shallow exhales as your torso pressed to hers with an urgent desire aflame within every drop of blood, every rushing fiber within your body screaming her name. Tilting your head up, you only rasped out a breathless plea as your lips ghosted over Mizu's, her heart pounding furiously against her chest to which you could quite literally feel from the clothed chest to chest proximity.

A palpable heat crept into the air as it fogged the atmosphere between you two, the tension fostered thick with a lustful infatuation hinted with the beauty of love itself. You couldn’t even pretend to hold yourself back, practically lunging yourself at Mizu as your lips smashed against her own, locking yourself in a passionate grasp accompanied by her hands wandering your body shamelessly as if she wanted to tear everything off without regard.

You gasped against her lips in response to her tightened hands bunching up fistfuls of your kimono silk, bundled up within her grasp as her tongue dragged along your lower lip, completely lost in the intense craving to devour you whole. Leaning back, you didn’t resist her hands tracing the darkened silhouette of your figure to slide down the shoulders of your clothing, urging her to undress you completely as you writhed in the unbearable heat your clothes trapped you in.

It didn’t take long for you to lay before her, flat against your back fully bare while your eyes lingered over Mizu’s now unclothed form as well, taking in every part of her nude body as you felt your face burn a deep crimson from the sheer beauty of the sight before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in those gorgeous blue eyes, now heavy lidded and misted over with a covetous desire boring into your own.

Her lips found their way across your skin, kissing down your collarbone and tracing to your lower abdomen, hands snaked below your thighs as her gaze fixed on yours from below. You heard the subtle echo of your heartbeat thudding in the clearing as Mizu halted her movements for a second, seemingly having a thought interrupt her sensual touches along your body.

“Love..? Is something-“

“Hold on. I have something.” She interjected, reaching down into the discarded pile of clothing to scramble for a small—or rather large, rectangular box, fitted perfectly into her grasp as she lifted open the lid carefully. Breath hitching at the sight, your eyes flickered over to the phallic object firmly curled between her fingers, the length a nasty contrast to her earlier gentle kisses. You blinked in surprise at the fact that Mizu just- had a harigata on her, opening your mouth yet quickly snapping it shut as you didn’t exactly wanna question why she was carrying it around so casually.

You only responded to the sight with your heart throbbing in rapid beats, along in tandem with feeling a different kind of tingling fluttering between your thighs as you squeezed them shut upon seeing Mizu fasten the object around her waist.

—

“Fucking hell- you like that don’t you? You enjoy getting filled by a demon?”

Mizu hissed through her grit teeth as her hands squeezed at the flesh of your wrists, keeping them held down against the futon as her hips slammed forward into you to meet her skin against your with every fervent thrust. Your mouth hung open as your body jerked up everytime she bottomed out inside you, tear streaks coating your cheeks like a fashionable look to getting your insides wrecked by your lover.

Every wash of pleasure surged through your body as your walls accommodated to stretch out in response to the girth of her cock, clenching the velvety insides of your cunt to trap her inside, only to be met with her sliding the harigata out to drive back into you once more with a monstrous force. Eyes rolling back in bliss, you dragged your lower lip between your teeth in response to the rush of your blood igniting your body on fire, nails digging into Mizu’s back in response to the drag of her cock along your insides.

It was difficult to handle her rough movements ridging within the vice of your pussy, the tip of her faux cock circling that one spot inside you to drive you utterly insane. You were mad with lust as you clawed at Mizu for more whenever she paused, rolling your hips up with an aching need as a sinful ring of your slick, moist against the toy bounced off the walls of the room, only driving your girlfriend to drill you into the futon with a heightened arousal clouding her eyes.

Strings of incoherent cries and moans fell from your lips in a series of pathetic whimpers, wanton pants heaving your chest up and down as her cock lodged within you comfortably. Mizu grinded skin to skin with heightened desperation, using her strength to hold you down and reach that one spot that made you sob in ecstasy as she wrung you dry.

Her muscles tightened as her thrusts grew more rapid, face contorting in pleasure further on as if she was lost in it. She stared down at you as she fucked your into the futon harshly, grip tightening around your wrists and pushing you further without regard for anything but making you squirt all over the harigata. Strangely enough, her eyes shone with that same glint she harbored whenever she lusted for blood, brows furrowing as her pupils seemed transcendent and full hate, yet loving and burrowed in your pleasure.

“Say that you love it. Or are you so fucked out you can’t even let out a pathetic whimper?”

She gasped out a breathy laugh in response to your sobs, only jamming her hips further into you in a seemingly enraged manner.

“Oh? You can’t even talk? Such a shame. Here I thought you had a problem with demons bastards like me?”

She leaned her face in nose length with yours, meeting eye to eye with you as she continued rolling her hips harshly against yours.

“Say it. Say you’re sorry.”

Her girthy cock sunk into you at the command, only earning a cry ripped from your lips while you stared at the perverse sight of the dildo sheathing in and out of you sloppily, her hand moving to grasp your cheeks together and elicit a sharp cry. Mizu’s relentless thrusts spun your mind in a haze of euphoria, making you sputter out an apology despite being fucked into the mattress roughly without stopping for even a split second.

“I’m- m- mmh-!”

She rolled her eyes at the pitiful attempt, squeezing your face to look at her while she plowed into you with each powerful thrust nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“M’sorry! I’m sorry Mizu! I won’t ever- ah-! I won’t ever say that again please!”

You whined out, a smile crossing the woman’s features as she touched her forehead to yours, her thrusts keeping the same pace yet seeming far more controlled and gentle now. Mizu sighed against the crook of your neck, delicately peppering your skin to juxtapose her previously harsh and fervent movements against your poor, abused cunt. Her thumb darted down to circle your already swollen clit, hesitating momentarily before massaging the puffy bundle of nerves along with the gentle flurry of kisses along your collarbone.

It didn’t take long before Mizu’s hips plunged deep within you, her cock making one final movement before your juices ran down the dildo to dampen the futon, staining it in a darker color pooled between your trembling thighs. Unfasting the strap, she carefully withdrew herself from your pussy, setting aside the harigata as she pressed up to your limp body in an affectionate hold. Arms encompassing your heaving body, pressing kisses to the shell of your ear in acknowledgment that you did in fact do well for her, Mizu showered you with every action she could to possibly make you feel loved.

After your breathing subsided, Mizu thoughtfully rested her chin against your shoulder, humming to herself in satisfaction as you let out a shaky exhale.

“(Name)?”

“Mhm..?”

“I know we’re just putting on the whole husband and wife thing as an act but when we can…when I kill the remaining three..”

You tilted your head up, being met with a gentle kiss encompassing your body in a scorching flare of passion as she hemmed her arms around you tightly, like a promise to never let go.

“Marry me. Be my wife when everything is over. We can live away from everything. I’ll give you whatever you need- no..whatever you want.”

You were too spent to respond.

So with a smile, you manged a tender nod.



A/N: okay yall may like this but ima be fully honest…

I FUCKING HATE HOW THIS TURNED OUT SO MUCH ITS SO BAD.

IT DOESNT GIVE THE SAME VIBE AS MY USUAL MIZU FICS WHY DID I WRITE IT SO BAD FORGIVE ME

anyway my next mizu fic will actually be good trust sorry for making this ass anon 💔

[violenteconomics]

FRESHMEN 101 FOR ASPIRING UPPERCLASSMEN

today’s lesson: proper communication and translation 🗣️

azul: greetings! i am your professor, azul ashengrotto! welcome to "freshmen 101 for aspiring upperclassmen" at night raven college! the only class that will you teach how to effectively handle those little brats— I MEAN loveable new faces you see around your dorm!

riddle: today, we will focus on how to properly communicate with your first-years. some of the things they say may be confusing and/or contradictory, so it's important to know how to translate their sentences into coherent language you understand.

vil: we have set up a variety of examples with our fellow co-professors and fellow seniors to guide you along this journey.

^

epel: vil, do you think i’d look better with a tattoo?

vil: translation: i am entering my rebellious phase and also want to ruin my delicate skin with a glorified paint job that i will most definitely regret in the future and will make me wish i had listened to my housewarden more. also, i have no hope of a happy future and will live out my days as a gangster on the streets.

epel: …what?

^

ortho: big brother, can you help me with a cosmetics alteration to my gear?

idia: big brother, i want to be the sparkliest, prettiest, most drop-dead gorgeous, most attractive, most charming, 5-star-reviewed, no notes, darling, glamorous, talented, brilliant, incredible, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, stunning, bewitching, adorbs, graceful, beguiling, smashing, knock-out, irresistible person in the classroom tomorrow.

ortho: yay~! 😀

^

deuce: sorry i was out past curfew, trey… i’m a little tired, so is it okay if i skip brushing my teeth tonight?

trey: translation: i have a secret boyfriend that i don’t want you to know about because he coerces me to engage in illegal underground boxing rings and convinces me that brushing my teeth is for losers. please get involved and maybe call the police and also never let me out of the dorm again until i’ve properly relearned the benefits of proper dental hygiene!

deuce: …huh?

^

sebek: silver, i think… i would like to make some friends with the people in our dorm. could you… mayhaps give me some advice?

silver: translation: i am a strikingly realistic imposter of your actual friend. i do not love nor care for you, and in fact, am very frightened by your presence, so i will gather allies from other places in an elaborate scheme to destroy you, the liege you’ve sworn your life to, your father, and your friend, whom i’ve already killed and whose body i have hidden in the basement. please end me.

sebek: pardon? what— what are you— why are you carrying around a camera— NO! NO NO NO NONONONO SILVER IF I’VE OFFENDED YOU I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE— SILVER PUT THE SWORD DOWN—

^

yuu: everyday, i’m scared that everything i’ve worked so hard to build in this world, all the friends i’ve made… all of it will just— slip through my fingers like sand… kalim? azul? what are your biggest fears?

kalim: translation: wow, things sure have been getting a little upsetti spaghetti around here! let’s throw a huge party in the mostro lounge with food and games and bright lights and elephants and and invite all of our friends to lighten up the atmosphere! the more, the merrier!

azul: translation: and while we’re at it, please don’t forget the mostro lounge’s limited time “part of your world” event, which offers authentic drinks, food, and even little trinkets from all around the world, for 20% off its original price!

yuu: guys pls

^

ace: hey, riddle? i, uh… i need help with smth.

riddle: translation: i have gotten into some very serious trouble and am about to lure you into a death trap that will get us both severely injured in all likelihood, and i am coming to you, specifically, about this, because i know you care deeply for me and couldn’t say no if you honestly thought my life was in danger, and i am going to exploit it for my own ends. what is it, ace?

ace: …ok, u lil bitch i see how it is

^

jack: hey, leona? ruggie? do you… do you love me?

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: 

ruggie: 

ruggie: translation: give me food!

jack: …would it help if i said it first?

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: …no, wait— i think maybe he said “give me sliced pears on a plate”... not sure, tho.

ruggie: that does sound right...

jack: oh my seven.

[eah-confessions]

I feel like this is the case with a lot of fandoms, especially with *hem hem* tHe PoLiTiCaL aNd EcOnOmIcAl StAtE oF tHe WoRlD, but fr I feel like people get very...two-dimensional in their views of people, and therefore their analyses and opinions on characters. Like this has always been a thing but I feel it's much more concentrated lately. And I see this ESPECIALLY exemplified in people's perception of Apple White. I know we talk about her SO MUCH but it's because people feel like they have to have a strong take on her. Specifically because her views reflect modern society in a lot of the shows fundamental themes. I see a lot of either "she's terrible and fundamentally a bad person and if you defend her or empathize with her you also suck and are ignorant" or "she's perfect and I will defend all of those objectively sucky things she's done because she's just a sad girl."

Hey guys hey guys; people are three dimensional. Apple is a victim and a toxic friend simultaneously, who goes through a CHARACTER ARC. I feel like in the end, this is what people forget. At the beginning, yeah, she is a highly flawed character. In the end, she is working to change and make amends and grow. Why should we just choose to ignore that? And that's not to say we should ignore the fact she inflicted a lot of damage and started a lot of conflict, cause she absolutely did, regardless of whether she has some justification. There's a balance.

I see this with so many fandoms but like Apple is such a good example of this phenomenon. I find myself defending characters who wouldn't need a defense if they were just looked at from a nuanced perspective because of this so often. People will really have a take that seems like they either do not have the media literacy required to have watched the show, or just want to have some moral high ground.

THAT SAID. JUST TO COVER ALL MY BASES. I have a lot of empathy for the people who have these very negative takes because, as I stated,her character does reflect much of modern society, which affects and hurts a lot of people who are probably those who end up with these really strong takes, and that is perfectly valid. I just think it speaks to a greater, broad misunderstanding a lot of people then have, which is created by this hurt, because anything which influences peoples lives and emotions and wellbeing tend to lean in that direction.

I am just tired of opinions which take one thing and jump to another without considering the other perspective fully. And this goes for both sides, I just feel I see it more with negative takes than positive.

I could keep going, but I fear I would just end up with a legitimate essay. Which I could write. Maybe I will. Anyway.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

(it is getting late and my coherence is slowly deteriorating so I apologize if that was entirely unreadable, I just have a lot to say.)

-

[canary-curse-57]

It is currently Late and I am Very Tired so I may not be coherent but consider: I Got No Time (yes the fnaf song) is just a liiiiittle bit jimmy coded,,,, (specifically canary curse era jimmy, so 3rd to limited life)

especially when you ascribe to my personal head cannon that the winner & the first out of the season are the two that remember,,,, (just one of many conflicting headcanons I have of the series tbh)

it's the verses that really make me feel this way.

"I got no time, I got no time to live, I got no time to live, and I can't say good bye" - always out first, always dies to something unexpected. Arrow came out of nowhere, Grian decided to take him out, enderman suddenly attacks, randomly falls to his death.

"And I'm regretting having memories Of my friends who they used to be Beside me before they left me to die." - again, specifically fits that head canon but "beside me before they left me to die" is so last life to me,,,

"And I know this is, I know this is the truth, Cause I've been staring at my death so many times," - canary curse, multiple deaths, etc etc

"These scary monsters roaming in the halls, I wish I could just block the doors and stay in bed until the clock will chime" - WATCHERS!!!!

one quick chorus lyric: "I felt like I won, but I wasn't done, The nightmare repeats itself every time" - all the times in the first four seasons where he had a good run, he survived a long time, he was doing really good, yet he was still out first anyways

"I have this urge I have this urge to kill I have this urge to kill and show that I'm alive" - imo Jimmy started fighting more and more/going for more kills as the seasons have gone on,,,,,,,,,,,

"I'm getting sick from these apologies From people with priorities That their life matters so much more than mine" - I'll just leave this one here,,,, mwahahaha

"But I'm stuttering I'm stuttering again No will listen and no one will understand," - I always imagine the I'm stuttering parts to match up to him dying, and the no one will listen part feels like how people would always joke about/brush off the canary curse

"Because I'm crying as much as I speak Cause no one likes me when I shriek want to go back to when it all began" - just leaving this one here too,,, mwhahhha

anyways I'm going to bed now I'm so stupidly tired 😭 just felt the need to shareeeeeee

(song link if you haven't heard it before)

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hello, may I ask for an Earthspark or TFP match-up, please?

My height is 5'3 (160cm). Im nonbinary and asexual, and I use any pronouns. I have brown, curly, short hair and green eyes. My skin is very pale, and I usually look pretty tired. I wear black clothes. Im a pretty calm and level-headed person. I really enjoy deep conservation, music, dancing, reading, and stargazing. I can read pretty much anything. I really like learning new things. Im sarcastic, and I like to tease my friends. I am extremely loyal to my friends, and I show my affection for them through gifts, quality time, and doing them favors. I tend to talk a lot about topics that I am interested in. I usually stay calm when people panic, (even if I'm screaming on the inside). Im trying to be as open-minded as possible to everyone, as long as they are doing the same thing to me. I love animals, especially raccoons. I think they are just adorable (I also have a cat and two dogs).

I have a pear-shaped body, but I'm also a little bit chubby. I have some scars on my arms and legs (mostly because I scratch my wounds when I'm stressed). Im anemic, which means that I get tired easily. Im also lactose intolerant. I often have random pains, but I don't know why. I also have an anxiety disorder (I bite my nails and lips a lot because of it). I would rather spend time indoors than outdoors, but I will not pass up an opportunity for a picnic :3.

I dislike loud noises and crowded places. I can't speak in front of a large group of people, and I have trouble making eye contact. I also hate when someone is bullied. I like spending time with someone when we both just do our stuff in one room. Im a pretty awkward person at first, but if I get close to you, I become more talkative and funny. People always tell me that when they first saw me, they thought I was intimidating. I often hum some music while doing something.

I think thats all. I apologize if this is chaotic. I never wrote a request. I hope it's not too much. Feel free to not write anything at all if you can't come up with anything <3.

Have a nice day and remember to take care of yourself!

Yandere TFP Megatron

Megatron is a cruel decepticon with a distaste for organics, so when he grabbed you into his servo he went to crush you right before Prime’s optics. He grinned viciously down at you, and your dead stare made him pause. Even the bravest of his kind looked more fearful than you. 

Before he could even form a coherent thought, he had transformed around you and flown away. When he got back to the Nemesis he was angry with himself- but he didn’t realize that as he threw you to Knockout, ordering him to watch you.

While you were scared, you did like the quiet of this place. It was almost soothing. 

Knockout peered down curiously at you. At your obvious exhaustion, he commented. “If I didn’t know better about your fleshies, I’d say you’re half dead.”

You stared back up at him, not quite making eye contact. He noticed your avoidance, but said nothing as he scoffed and went back to working. 

Megatron questioned himself as to why he brought you along, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He ended up sitting you on a table in his room while he worked. You were mostly quiet, but your curiosity showed as you looked at his computer. 

His booming voice asked what you were doing, and you covered your ears. Megatron wasn’t sure why he did it, but he lowered his voice and spoke again. “What are you looking at?” 

“....your screen. Sorry.” You bit your nails nervously. Megatron turned away, silent. 

It was weeks before he sat you on his shoulder. He didn’t speak, clearly unsure of how to communicate with you. For the first time in millions of years, he was truly unsure of himself. 

When he did start talking to you, it was to teach you about his gladiatorial days. He spoke of how he started the revolution, and how he fought against the corruption of the senate. 

Eventually you felt comfortable enough to ask questions with him, but you felt nothing but pity. He had been through so much. However, you also felt conflicted- the Autobots are your friends, but you feel like this war has no point anymore other than for Decepticons to get some sort of revenge. 

You slowly began to chip away at Megatron’s cold spark, and he cared for you- even if he didn’t show it well. He loved the way you hummed softly your favorite songs, and how content you were to merely sit on his shoulder. 

Megatron would often bring you to large forests so you could enjoy the nature he found you enjoyed. 

One day, when Megatron was on a comm with Soundwave discussing something, you decided to take off. You wanted to be back with the autobots- not to say that you even hated Megatron after everything you had learned. You ran through the forest, getting turned around almost instantly. 

Almost immediately, you were snatched up into the servos of a very furious mech. Megatron had a deep scowl on his face. 

“After I bestowed all of the knowledge I had upon you, did you really think I’d let you go?” Megaton squeezed you painfully tight. “Don’t worry, worm. I won’t make the same mistake with you twice.”

Megatron, secretly heartbroken that you’d try to leave after creating a bond, locked you in a cage hanging in his room- with no way to escape his clutches. You would never be allowed out unless Megatron was with you. His trust would be hard to earn back- maybe even take your lifetime.

[isnt-it-pretty]

please only read this if you finished cyno’s story quest!

I absolutely loved the story quest and cyno’s dynamic with everyone else but cyrus left me a bit disappointed… not in his character overall but in his actions. he had good intentions but took cyno away from his origins, denied him answers when cyno asked (cyno said he asked many times about hermanubis and the temple and cyrus always avoided answering him) and since cyno suffered under hermanubis it would’ve been his right to know where it stems from since he couldn’t recall… cyrus probably did it to protect him but he cut cyno off from his culture and people. Bamoun and cyrus owe cyno and sethos a lot in my honest opinion and cyrus still kept avoiding answering cyno at the end of his quest (cyno even calls this out) which just shows me he didn’t learn anything at all from the events.

he also had the option to try and reach out to cyno’s biological parents because they might’ve given him away to provide a better life for him (but I have to say as a middle easterner I’m tired of this poor parents give their children away etc etc narrative we had the same with collei)

cyrus also didn’t feel responsible enough for sethos after taking everything away from him or even leaving him behind back then even he knew it’s bad for him.

cyno and sethos both suffered under the actions of cyrus and bamoun and deserve so so much better cyno is a perfect example of ethnic children being taken in by white people and having their cultures and roots taken away from them. not to mention we know that cyno did maybe have a better life in the akademiya but he was still surveilled and treated like a lab rat and discriminated and isolated until he met tighnari

sorry for this little rant. I still appreciate everything cyrus did for cyno but I think this is also an important part of his very flawed character and ideals. in the end of the quest it even felt like he was manipulating cyno by showing him the photos which he “miraculously” found again showing him “look who raised and took you in”

Sorry I just saw this! First, please never apologize for sending me long asks, I love them! Also congratulations anon, I successfully had to log onto tumblr on my PC to type out this response lol. This is... very long, longer than your ask. I'm so sorry, this is the first post I've made with my thoughts on the quest, so it's going to be a bit of a ramble in return and probably not totally coherent.

Okay, so, full disclosure, I am super white. I mean I look like Barbie sort of white. That means that I don't think I can have any constructive input on the trope (arguably cliché) of middle eastern and BIPOC+Asian characters giving away (or selling, in Cyno's case) their children, so I will definitely defer to your discomfort with the concept. It's definitely a pervasive trope (see: Collei, Dehya, Cyno) and not just in Genshin Impact. It's something that is absolutely worth bringing up and thinking about, and I bet most people didn't even consider it, so thank you for voicing it as something you've noticed! Because of this, I don't feel comfortable talking about whether or not Cyrus should have looked for Cyno's parents, because it's very wrapped up in the narrative vs the damage of the trope, which has a lot to dissect and would be better done by somebody more educated.

As for the quest, I think I've gotta split this into two parts to have my thoughts make sense. God this is so long.

-

First, as a basis, the whole thing with Hermanubis is actually so fucked up from the start even before we can get to Cyrus and Cyno. I mean Hermanubis was an advisor to King Deshret, right? (Also that was two-thousand years ago, but he only died five-hundred years ago? Did I misunderstand that? Was he immortal? The timeline in this game could use an entirely different post because between Cyno and the Hearth kids it makes zero sense, but ANYWAYS-). Presumably, having witnessed this, Hermanubis knows the danger of Forbidden Knowledge and fucking with things that should not be fucked with.

After the fall of Tulaytullah, the Temple of Silence moved to the rain forest but left due to corruption, right? So you'd think they would have agreed on the basic Cardinal Sins of the Akademiya. But now, four hundred years later, the Temple of Silence's attempt to ressurect Hermanubis breaks at least one of those sins (tampering with life and death), and arguably two more (interfering with human evolution and/or attempting the forbidden and fearing none.) I really can't imagine Hermanubis would be happy with their actions. This is like the Akademiya trying to ressurect Rukkadevata (and boy do I have a fic I want to write that digs into those parallels of Cyno and Nahida.)

The very basis for the experiment they did on Sethos and Cyno is so unethical and corrupt. This killed adults so they thought, hey! It's not going to kill the children, right? Lets do it on them despite the negative effects (headaches and fevers). Bamoun's children even volunteered Sethos, which, again, is so fucked up.

Narratively, the quest didn't focus on this at all. It was never framed as something negative or messed up like you'd think it would be? I imagine it's because they didn't want to paint Bamoun and Cyrus as bad people or Sethos as indoctrinated. (What's interesting to me is how differently some situation are treated vs others in different quests. Arguably, Wriothesley, Arlecchino, and Cyno have parts in common that are condemned to totally different extents depending on the character, but that could be it's own post too).

We can talk about Cyrus taking Cyno and whether or not that was a good decision (removing children from their culture is never a good thing but we'll get to that) but we also can't really get into it without first talking about how the entire thing was absolutely horrid and wrong from the start. We're starting the conversation about Cyrus from a remarkably low place.

Okay, onto Cyrus and the quest. I actually think it's okay that Cyrus is a flawed character. We already knew he was super strict when he was teaching Lisa and Cyno, and we knew he was into some unethical shit since we already knew he was part of the experiments on Cyno, albeit not to this extent. (Also Naphis knows all about this so what does that say about him? All the Sages are so sus, but, I mean, isn't that just government?)

Here's the thick of it. Was Cyrus taking Cyno to the rain forest a good decision? I don't know. We just don't know enough about why he left and took Cyno. The quest didn't frame the action one way or the other, nor did it give the reasons he left or Bamoun didn't go after him.

There's generally three ways to frame this. 1. Cyrus was a saviour for taking Cyno from an abusive environment. 2. Cyrus was awful and stole Cyno's power for himself. I don't think either of these make sense, since in either case, I think Bamoun would have gone after them. I think most likely is 3. There were conflicting needs.

The one I'm leaning towards right now is that The Temple of Silence was desperate and willing to push harder than they should, even if it was going to harm the children, so as an outsider with a different perspective and more objectivity, Cyrus stopped the experiment. He knew Sethos wasn't at risk of being harmed nearly as much as Cyno because Sethos had a family there already looking out for him. Cyno didn't. People care less about a child who isn't part of their community vs one who is. So he took the child who was far more likely to be harmed, and left. Taking Sethos would have been even worse than just taking Cyno, imo, since it would be taking Sethos away from his family, whereas Cyno was already taken from his family. Bamoun realized the same thing in hindsight, which is why he let Cyrus and Cyno go. But again, that's just a headcanon about what happened.

As for the rest of the problem. While as previously mentioned, I'm very white, I'm also Canadian (I promise this is relevant). A bit of Canadian history here for those who might not know, Canada once had something called Residential Schools. These were boarding school for indigenous children who were forcibly taken from their parents to be "educated." There was a lot of abuses in them and I cannot over represent the amount of damage it has done to the indigenous peoples of Canada and the country as a whole, but the main reason I bring it up here is because of the way the government tried to kill indigenous culture through their children. While I don't think this was Cyrus' intent at all, it is a real world example very close to my heart of the damage it does to children to be cut off from their cultures. We see it in fostering and adopting children as well. Indigenous foster children are best kept with indigenous foster families when at all possible. Foster parents are told to try their best to keep their foster children connected to their cultures in the home but that isn't always achieved, nor is there always even an effort made. Mixed race families often practice both cultures with their children because know how important it is.

The fact that Cyno was completely cut off from the desert is wrong, and it would have been very difficult for him to face the discrimination for being a race that he has no cultural connection to. It's something Cyrus absolutely should have done more about. I mean The Corps of Thirty are eremites even if they aren't from the desert! Cyrus could have reached out to them on Cyno's behalf to introduce him to people who share cultural aspects (young!Dehya and Cyno friendship anyone?). He could have taken Cyno to Aaru Village (young Candace and Cyno friendship?) or at least spent time in Caravan Ribat. The only reasons I can think he didn't is because he was trying to keep Cyno away from the Temple of Silence out of fear they'd come after him (well intentioned but still harmful), he didn't think about it (obliviously harmful), he didn't have the time (willfully neglectful).

Cyrus also absolutely should have told Cyno about The Temple of Silence and Hermanubis, especially when he got a little older (although I'm for raising children with that sort of knowledge. Secrets only hurt later). Assume best intentions, he was pprobably trying to protect Cyno, maybe because he wanted Cyno to find his own path instead of the one the Temple of Silence laid out for him, but I still think that was a mistake to keep it a secret.

Cyrus is a very flawed person, but so are a lot of parents. That doesn't mean that his actions were right or justified, but it does make him an interesting character. It also makes his relationship with Cyno interesting. Canonically, Cyno isn't angry. He's already struggled and come to terms with who he is and what his power means, but I still think he and Cyrus need to sit down and have a long conversation. Cyno deserves answers about Cyrus' motives and decisions and they need to talk about Cyrus trying to protect Cyno vs Cyno not needing that protection, ways Cyrus should have acted differently, etc. I'd love to see somebody explore it; it would be interesting to see since it's definitely overdue, but I don't think I could do it justice.

I don't think it's wrong of Cyno to forgive Cyrus. We as the outside observer can say, "whoa, that's fucked up," but I don't think Cyno is necessarily wrong in how he feels. Like I said, he's already dealt with a lot of this already and is remarkably resilient. I think the hardest part of all this for Cyno would probably be Sethos, because that's definitely going to be a ton of messy emotions, but that doesn't have to reflect on Cyrus. It could, of course, and if somebody wanted to write Cyno as being angry and fracturing their relationship, that would be a valid way to go, but like, idk, I know a lot of people who made really bad decisions when raising their kids, and their kids still forgave them. Not always, and being a parent doesn't mean somebody deserves forgiveness for their mistakes, but I think it shows how resilient Cyno is that he bounces back from this so well. It shows his strength in his how convictions and beliefs, which is really interesting when compared to characters like Sethos and Kaeya (and man are there a lot of similarities between Cyno and Kaeya).

I also don't think finding those photos was intended to be Cyrus manipulating Cyno, but I can see how it feels that way. Since the quest was about Cyno, it felt like a nice narrative way to tie it together by reflecting on Cyno's childhood with Cyrus, but I think it really depends on how you view the entire situation and whether you think Cyrus should have taken Cyno. It's definitely a valid take and something that's okay to feel uncomfortable about.

This is where people might disagree with me, but Cyno grew up loved. He had a lot of challenges and Cyrus made a lot of mistakes, and love doesn't fix how fucked up it all is (lots of adopted kids are loved and still hurt by not having a connection to their culture), but Cyno has already accepted all of this and ultimately, he has forgiven Cyrus for his mistakes. I think that's what the photos were trying to depict.

To me, the entire quest does a very good job of using Cyno and Sethos as foils of each other. They're both paying for the decisions of the people who raised them, and neither are right or wrong, just different. It shows Cyno's growth as a person vs Sethos who hasn't yet found his way. It shows that neither Cyrus or Bamuon made the right decisions, nor were they evil people. They were doing the best they could at the time, and they both fucked up, and now it's up to Sethos and Cyno to figure it out, but they both still love their family despite whatever mistakes were made.

I hope this rambling essay length response is satisfying lol

[farfromstrange]

I made it back from my little comic con getaway! I’m semi-alive.

I come bearing pics (though not as many as I would’ve liked). So, I’ll put them under the cut for those of you who want to see them. Anyone else, feel free to keep scrolling. This is just me rambling. And showing off my cosplay and Daredevil merch I bought. With a lot of text. Sorry.

I didn’t have the time to take a pic of my Day One Matt Cosplay, but I do have pics from the test run I did a couple of days back.

(I didn’t have the time to put on the fake blood on Saturday, but that was kind of how I wanted it to look when I first tried it on, minus the added blood on the nose, that was just a stupid attempt at making it look more… gore-y? I think. I don’t know. My brain is tired and I’m just typing this on my phone and I don’t have the brain cells to form a coherent thought.)

Anyway, the first two is a (kind of) look at how I looked at the con on Saturday. It was a very slutty version of lawyer!Matt and the Season 1 promo poster. I tried. Also, I have no idea how to take proper pictures of myself. I apologize 😭

NOW moving on to my look on Day Two (today). That was a lot easier because I already had the sweater, and there was no way I wouldn’t pull up in the iconic “I’m Not Daredevil” Comic!Matt look. It was the obvious choice.

(Excuse the crusty-ass hotel selfie quality.)

I really enjoyed dressing up, and I think I might invest even more time and money for next year and go all out. As much as I can, anyway.

It was fun, but it was definitely different than last year. A lot less crowded, too. I still think it was amazing and I’ve loved seeing everyone dress up as their favorite characters and just feel welcome because everyone was there for the same reason. That’s why I love these conventions so much. It really is a judgement free zone.

And there is always a lot of shopping, which I did. I secured a lot of goods, and of course, I am going to share them with you now.

I got this amazing Elektra Funko.

AND THIS?!?! I FUCKING LOVE IT!!

And the girl selling this was so excited someone finally bought one of her Matt prints, we both geeked out. I still can’t believe I found this.

And then I got these pins…

AND THIS AMAZING GINORMOUS SWEATER/HOODIE/BLANKET

And a Barbie poster (It says “Hi Barbie” but I was too lazy to unroll it completely)

Overall, I think I found some amazing stuff! I just had to share it with you.

Can’t wait for spring next year, honestly.

[battleforselfshipisland]

eughh.. citrus scented ink slopp.. for context its the ship name for me and oj!! my s/i is an inkwell so its kinda cutie ig. I made that up on the spot though so there may be other choices?? idk. another idea was acidic or acid ink because I think orange juice can taste acidic. I might go with acid ink it sounds badass so about them. Inkwell isn't very fleshed out in terms of backstory yet but I think they'd be created by mephone4 to help around the hotel. not that he cares about OJ its just that all his former contestants live their and why not have someone to help out. so Inkwell just shows up one day going "hey you need a janitor" and OJ is like "oh why not! come on in!" and then it goes from there inkwell is a big ol suckup for OJ and will kind of let him just drag it around wherever he wants. it really dgaf. honestly at first I dont think OJ would care much for inkwell, ordering them around to do menial things he doesn't feel like doing. but slowly the two warm up to each other and then they kiss or smthn idk yet apologies for the incoherent yap sesh I had to get all of this out of my brain. will probably do smthn identical embarrassingly soon. also s/i uses they/it if you havent noticed -🍊anon (P.S give me ship name ideas)

ITS OK this blog was made for people to yap.

i luv your s/i and its dynamic w oj slready actually. the silliez.... sorry i am very tired and not coherent

i do like acidic ink as a ship name, idk if i can think of any other ideas... FOLLOWERS ASSEMBLE

[sunstranded]

INTJ: Deleting Messages

I find it more efficient to delete messages rather than say "nevermind". It has less confusion. It's cleaner. It's faster. However, I realize a lot would disagree.

I tend to delete messages. It's not out of secrecy; it's not out of anything else people overthink about. I just imagine it as if I were typing and I spam backspace. I just either found a better string of words to say my meaning or I found it no longer relevant to say.

However I was told that it's weird to do that and only people that are hiding something would do so. I mean, I am sparing people my messy mistakes. I have a lot to hide mostly because I hate it when people are all up in my business. But every word I speak is designed to deliver a message.

I find it annoying because I'd rather suffer the repercussions than stop deleting messages. I might start apologizing if I had bothered someone but goodness I need to delete a clear mistake unless there is relevance for my mistake. It takes space for no reason.

I really don't want nor need to fit into this texting decorum people have. I was accused by xxxPs and several xxFJs that I type drier than their old relatives. The feature of instant messaging and being allowed to draft your words before sending them is best utilized if you are coherent, cohesive, and brief with what you deliver. I hate receiving a bombardment, a rapid fire of notifications only to get "how did you sleep?" Obviously, I answered my INFP friend truthfully: with both my eyes closed and neatly burrito-wrapped by my blanket in the lightless night. If they had asked me that once without the barrage of "heys," emojis, and "I miss yous" I would've answered the same way without suffering a dissonant staccato of dings.

Besides, if they really missed me, they could've called or scheduled a time to hang out. Except they don't. My ENTP friend had already labeled and recognized irregularities and cues in my texting. She knows when I am lethargic, busy, or even sensing something is utterly wrong. When I am tired, I forget to simplify my wording. When I am busy I send voice mails. When she senses that something is utterly wrong, it is when I start using emojis. The most annoying thing with her analysis is that its correct and I feel like I am the butt of the joke. At least I'm comically consistent. Typing this had made it feel unreal, honestly.

This is possibly an inane introvert and thinker problem or an INTJ thing. Or just a me thing. Oh well. I'm still going to be very dry and will delete messages.

[onekisstotakewithme]

for the writing meme, i'd love director's commentary on as much of the last section of "Beautiful to Take a Chance" as you'd like to provide! that's one of my favorite of your fics

I didn't know! Good old "Beautiful to Take a Chance," I'd be glad to offer director's commentary on this story 💜

Apologies in advance if this is like, less than coherent, the story is four years old... 😅

(but to spare everyone else, I'll do it under a read more)

Okay so it's obviously just a basic 5+1 structure, and this is actually a fic I don't think about very often! 😅

It starts with snuggling because I'm a soft-ass bitch at heart.

There are actually more parts to this universe, backstory pieces that demonstrate how Hawkeye has come to be this way (involving Carlye, primarily, and how she's the root of some of his insecurities.)

“Where do you get off always telling me I’m…” He chokes on the word. “Is that supposed to be funny? Cause if you look closely you may notice I am expressing zero mirth.”

This part particularly - Hawkeye doesn't believe he's beautiful. The whole story is kind of inspired by Alan being mildly self-conscious, and by Hawkeye not looking like a conventional "hero".

“See, there you go again!” Hawk says. “Look, pal, I’ve looked in the mirror a handful of times in my life, and I can tell you, it’s never Gene Kelly looking back at me.”

Why did I pick Gene Kelly? Because at the time I was mildly obsessed with Singin in the Rain. Although, personally, I prefer Donald O'Connor.

ANYWAY EVERYONE SHOULD TELL HAWKEYE HE'S PRETTY.

“Well why didn’t you lead in with that?” Hawk asks, certain he’s bright red by now. “I’d have believed you much sooner if you’d brought up sex.”

Don't you love when he says something upsetting and means it? I do. But like Hawkeye reducing himself to a tired old lech (this is particularly on my mind at the moment having watched That's Show Biz the other night. Hawkeye ties his worth to being good in bed.

Idiot.

“Too long nose. Too many limbs that are too long and gangly. I look like a stick insect. The wrong face.” Hawk gestures to himself. “Extra fat in the wrong places and skinny everywhere else. A small cock.”

And here's where i confess something: i don't like that last line. At the time I wrote this, the server I was in LOVED Hawkeye having a small cock and I kind of ran with that based on their influence. On my own merits, I wouldn't have written that because it feels cliche to me, a way of making him the "woman" in his and BJ's relationships. So anyway, this is an average Hawk cock truther blog.

“Yeah,” Hawk says. “In the same way Igor is a gourmet chef.”

On your left, you'll see me never missing the chance to take a jab at Igor, who I irrationally dislike.

“Shush.” BJ says, giving Hawk a searching look. “Your face is just right, dummy. Maybe your nose is long, but it gives you character that Gene Kelly could only dream of. Skinny arms and legs, so what? The food’s bad and you happen to be tall. I’ve heard women - and men - like that.”

Someone commented this on the fic i believe - and I agree wholeheartedly - that it's important that BJ doesn't dismiss how Hawkeye feels. He acknowledges those feelings and then proceeds to say that he loves them. That matters to me at least (also my nose is slightly too big so <3 )

“No,” BJ murmurs. “It’s the curve of your ear, and the silver in your hair, and the scar you have from falling off your bike when you were six, and the blue of your eyes and the scar on your lip… you’re beautiful, Hawkeye.”

I'm quite proud of this line! (most of the time I look back at older writing and go 'ehhh what's so special about it' but this line...)

anywayyyy I love them. Thank you!

[ingu]

i wonder if you can put forward some sort of argument for steve failing to be anti-imperial despite his best intentions simply due to the fact that his identity is built on so-called 'american values'

i mean steve rogers as a person has always been staunchly vigilante and anti-establishment in the sense that he doesn't want to be a soldier. he doesn't want to fight for anyone else's cause - he just doesn't like bullies. and when you position him as someone who has experienced first-hand how following someone else's 'better judgement' can lead to absolute disaster (a la SHIELD's corruption and the ensuing fallout), it makes sense that he would not want to surrender his personal agency when it comes to doing the 'right thing' to a bureaucracy he fundamentally doesn't trust

because the UN is ultimately a flawed political institution that affirms the power of superpowers such as Russia and America. Especially in relation to the security council, the power of veto allows any of its five permanent members to prevent the adoption of a resolution. the un is not an apolitical instituion. there can be a crisis going on anywhere in the world and in theory, all it takes is for American politicians to say 'nah we don't wanna act on this' and then the un's hands are tied. it is for this reason that the un has sometimes been accused of both being a tool and a victim of western imperialism, one which only really promotes peace and order when it supports the interests of major powers. especially in the case of the avengers, the decision makers holding power over them are referred to as a 'panel', which points to countless political agendas motivating who is appointed and why. this is the reality that steve rogers is rejecting, because political actors can't be trusted to be impartial when given the type of power superheroes can wield

and i think this is why he says 'the safest hands are our own', because it can be argued that the avengers, by virtue of being removed from politics, can be true apolitical actors. the avengers aren't diplomats invested in the bigger picture and state interests, they're people, individuals who are acting out of kindness and conscience, unburdened by political careers and bureaucratic authority. and i think that is what steve believes and trusts more. he trusts in working together with a team of apolitical individuals to make the right calls when it matters. he believes in a justice league, not an overwatch, if you will. 

on an individual level, cap's refusal is sort of well and good. because you dont want to trust an institution with an acknowledged history of ineffectiveness and lack of true impatiality with the incredible power that superheroes possess. because there is nothing to stop the avengers from being used as agents to further political interests instead of the humanitarian ones that steve rogers believes in. steve rogers is fighting to prevent the avengers from becoming an unwitting tool of imperialism (or an unwitting weapon of fascists, if we look toward SHIELD) because by now he knows so much better than to trust politics and bureauracy

and this is where his identity as captain america hinders him. (and i'd be curious to see if the russos decide to reference his comic stint as nomad at some stage). cap exists at a curious intersection where he supposedly represents the disadvantaged everyman fighting for what's right and embodies the distrust of authority as such. but also carries the burden of representing America, which as a state is neither disadvantaged nor lacks authority and power. his arguments are sound assuming it comes from an apolitical actor, but because of his history and his identity - his statements become inherently political.

i think the way you construct steve's resistance to the accords depends really on which identity you perceive he speaks for and from. steve rogers is perhaps an 'everyman' fighting against an oppressive power and another’s agenda. captain america, however, serves as a direct reflection of american imperialism in his apparent rejection of authority. steve rogers is not a state in himself, he is just a person trying to do the right thing. is it fair to attribute statehood to him and call his actions imperialistic? when he's a fictional character with his mantle and his history, there is definitely an argument for seeing it that way. yet in-universe? ...maybe not? 

tl;dr a reading of steve rogers as a person trying to ensure that the avengers’ interventions remain staunchly apolitical and thus ‘non-imperialist’ despite what political reality demands of these walking weapons of mass destruction - in that he wishes for the avengers to remain independent promoters of ‘human’ interests and not actors inadvertantly promoting state and political interests in the name of the ‘greater good’ - which they will most definitely become if they submit to the un accords as the un is infamous for being subject to the whims of dominating superpowers. this motivation is something which his own inherently political public identity as captain ‘america’ directly obfuscates and complicates.

(@eatingcroutons​ because you seem interested this particular topic?)

(Edit: for clarity and fixing some typos since people seem to be reblogging this?)

[catacini]

i'll be the first to say wuthering heights could have benefited from another go round with an editor, or maybe some more time clarifying themes or what have you. but it's a very good book, and "for its time" it really surprised me. heathcliff's whole deal is that he's adopted into an upper middle class white family while definitely not considered white by those around him.

the book talks a lot about how some people are defensive of him as a kid while others are especially harsh, and kids who don't understand the reasons for those reactions grow bitter towards him for taking dad's attention away and angering mom. then there's catherine, who only sees him as a new friend, a best friend, and very honestly doesn't register any difference between them. and she's the one he forms a bond with.

but because she never really understood what he was up against in a coherent way, she doesn't know [how] to fight for him in the wider world. the earnshaws have brown hair, and catherine gets pulled into the linton family who are all blonde with blue eyes, and also are financially better off than the earnshaws. they looove catherine, but they're even more racist towards heathcliff, and cathy's approach ends up being to split her behavior depending on who she's with. this frustrates the lintons and breaks heathcliff's heart, because he thought they were a pair (so did she) but she has the power to simply step out of the line of fire directed at him, and she does so. now, according to her, part of her intention in marrying linton was to steal his money and buy heathcliff the respect he deserved, but that was never adequately communicated (nor was it "right") and then it was too late.

most movies only adapt the first half of the book, because that's ~the love story~ and then skip to the end where her ghost steals him away to walk with her forevermore. i respect this, as it's a long book, but i am very fond of the second half of the story as an exploration of a very understandably bitter man going out of his way to destroy the happiness of those around him out of spite. spite both for the actions of their forebears and spite for their banal naivety, remaining perpetually oblivious to aspects of the world that are perpetually leveraged against him. he gets his revenge. and at the end of the book, he finds happiness not through being compelled to apologize (he's not sorry) but by simply being too tired to care anymore, and relaxing his iron grip just long enough for happiness to slip into the house again. with happiness comes catherine's ghost, and he is free.

what really matters, though, is that heathcliff is an incredibly smart man, smarter than anyone else in the book, and extremely vindictive towards people that reduce him to being a stupid brute just because he's not white and has a large frame. the entire book happens the way it does because of the way he's treated. "his behavior isn't justified, but he's acting this way for a reason, and they're all blind to it." he's not an idiot. he's patient and calculating and relentless.

^ why i am principally opposed to playing l1mbus c0mp4ny

[harbouredsoulss]

Highly Suspicious | Aaron Hotchner | Chapter One 

There is no rhyme or reason for this gif I just wanted one with all the cast!

I've really enjoyed writing this, so I really hope you like it!

Please, please, please, don't hesitate to comment, like, and reblog 🥰

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x OC [Josephine 'Jo' Andrews]

Summary: Please click here for a synopsis

Warnings: series overall will be 18+; fluff; friendship; first person pov

Just wanted to note that this is only the beginning of the story, therefore nothing super duper exciting is happening. We are just getting to know Miss Andrews and her relationship with the team.

ALSO: I don't typically write in first person mainly because I am more comfortable writing in 3rd person. So... I guess this is a bit of an apology if this is crap. You are probably wondering why I wrote in 1st person if I feel more comfortable in 3rd. The short answer is that the words came to me quicker in 1st than 3rd (for this particular story).... so 1st person POV is what I've chosen.

A03 link

Word Count: 2.6k words

Chapter One 

The sentiment at the end of each case was always the same. A forlorn feeling loitering like a sky ready to storm; if only we allowed.

Exhaustion lingered tight all over, behind my eyes, running up and around the muscle of my thighs; a reminder of where I’d been and what I’d had done. 

The pressure to compartmentalise and leave behind each job, preferably unscathed, wasn’t easy. Perhaps for some, but for others it left marks behind.

I had cushioned myself between Emily and the window of the Jet, nestling my head in the crook of her neck, watching the act of decompression at its finest. It was a game of cards, one in which I’d seen them play many times before, though I had never played.

I usually lacked the energy; more-so the patience, for the game. 

That and Reid was a genius who was very rarely beaten. I didn’t find myself to be a ready, worthy opponent. 

Instead, I watched whoever dared oppose him, which at that moment, was Emily, so I settled myself in as spectator. 

JJ sat across from me, her brows furrowed, tired eyes skimming the contents of the pages in front of her. I knew what she was doing. It was the same thing she always did on our travels home.

It was a habit, one in which I’d tried to help her break, yet couldn’t. 

Every case we took, on our journey there and back she reviewed the other cases; the ones put aside, deemed less of a priority. Although she tried her best to hide it, I knew she reviewed them throughout the cases we were on, keeping tabs on situations she felt certain would escalate. 

It was guilt that kept her in this cycle. Not that JJ had anything to feel guilty about. We couldn’t take on every case sent to her.  

“Everything okay?” I asked her, doing my best to stifle a yawn.  

She looked up, eyes meeting mine own, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I could see the heaviness of it all, the prominent lines adorning her forehead, the set of her jaw – she’d been clenching again – the strain was plain to see, and it worried me. 

“Fine,” she responded, stretching, moving her neck from side to side, her groans mirroring the sounds of her body moaning in protest, the stress fleeing her body, “I just wish there could be a day where I’d open one of these folders and find nothing. No requests. No deaths. No crimes. Nothing.”

A laugh, an all-knowing, weary laugh, one that lacked its usual vigour escaped my lips. 

“Wouldn’t that be lovely,” I retorted, “though we’d be out of a job. I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Tiredness leeched from me coherent words of comfort to add to the conversation, words that would offer JJ any kind of reassurance or comfort. I tried not to feel too guilty.

Instead, I nuzzled further into the warmth of the body beside me, offering a heavy sigh as a response, one that I hoped could convey my feelings of solidarity.  

The fatigue, the kind that often nestled its way deep into our very bones, grew stronger, a sting ever-present behind my eyes. I had known that it wouldn’t take too long for my body to give in, allowing the heaviness of the day to lift like fog and sleep to swallow me whole. 

I tried to resist, instead, I did my best to focus on the voices around me. 

I focused on Morgan first, studying him. His eyes were closed, body slumped peacefully in his seat, mind clearly captivated by the music streaming through his ears, lips humming its tune. 

Dave caught my attention next; I could hear his voice coming from further up the jet where I knew he’d be seeking refreshment. The time of day never a bother, he was always ready for caffeine. Distance unable to stop him, he still managed to interject himself into the heckling the card game had evoked. His own jabs adding fuel to the fire. 

“You know,” Emily piped up, eyes gleaning with mischief, “you could make this really interesting Rossi. If you joined us.”

“Emily, if I’m going to wager on anything, it won’t be with me playing, it will be on Reid winning.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me, laughing harder still as my gaze fell to Reid, who sat before me, a smug smile on his lips, hands moving quickly as he shuffled their cards. 

“Hey now,” Emily protested, “have a little faith.” 

I clung to their teasing, finding comfort in their jabs and laughter, watching as Rossi, having finished making his beverage, stood behind Reid observing as he dealt the cards. 

There was something about these people – my family – that warmed me. If I thought too hard on it, I was sure to cry. Instead, I turned my attention outward – back to them and did my best to enjoy these moments – savour them. They won’t last forever.  

But for now, it would be enough. 

*

I was always mindful of the many eyes and ears within the small confines of the jet, aware that if I allowed myself a moment to linger too long on Hotch that I would open myself up to curious glances.  

Instead, I allowed myself mere moments to take in the sight of him. The line of his mouth was thin, eyes tired, ringed with the kind of darkness I could only fault as a lack of sleep. 

He did his best to appear relaxed, leg crossed against the other, hand fisting a crystal glass filled with what I hoped to be, for his sake more than my own, water. The other held his phone, the artificial light illuminating his face. 

There was no denying that something was eating at him. 

I had seen him with Jack, and understood that having had him made Hotch susceptible to the kind of feelings one would have after dealing with a case as gruesome as the one we left. 

Abuse was something I could never fathom. Let alone violence against children.

Time, a relative thing, one I could never quite track as well as I hoped, passed as I watched him. I hadn’t realised how much until I caught him quirking his lips to the side. 

He was smirking at me. 

I blushed, embarrassed at having been caught staring, the heat warming my cheeks.  

He offered a nod of the head, lips still quirked, eyes trained on mine. I matched his gaze, eyes lingering for a time. I willed him to see in mine that I saw him. That he was okay. This was okay. Embarrassment be damned. 

Feeling satisfied after a moment or two passed, I looked away, cataloguing the rest of the team, seeking comfort from their nearness, and allowed myself to slowly fall into a slumber. 

Their voices drifted off, growing ever so soft as I was called to sleep. It wasn’t unlike myself to fall asleep on the jet – any moving vehicle – head slumped against someone’s shoulder or resting gently against the windowpane. It was amusing to say the least, as I was always the first to fall. It was only a matter of guessing how long exactly it would take. 

It was a game the team often played, taking bets walking onto the tarmac, making their way towards the jet. A wager Rossi was happy to take. 

Scarcely, I won. I managed a victory or two on our shorter flights, though the vast majority I lost. My willpower not strong enough. 

Dreams, often plagued by vivid memories of the past, pulled me under without hesitation, feeding into my weariness. 

It was no surprise, after the week we had had, that this time my dreams decided to take me back to a time where things in life were steadier, clearer – less confusing. Where everything had begun. 

*

I was taken back to my first day as an Agent at the BAU. There were introductions being made between myself and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, my new boss.

He had walked in with an air of self-possession one could only place as having come from such a tenured experience as a Senior Officer at the BAU.

We stood next to one another, Section Chief Strauss sitting comfortably behind her desk observing us both. 

The tension in my body was palpable, nerves ever present. I wiped my hands as discreetly as I could, behind my back. I kept them there, crossed behind me, a perfect excuse to hide the nails that had been chewed to the bit. 

Within that same memory, I could recall the ghost of a smile on Aaron’s face, arm extended ready to take his hand in mine own. It was a firm shake, one that reminded me of something my father had once told me. Something about being able to tell a lot about a person by the firmness in which they shake. 

All I could think – hope – at the time was that Agent Hotchner couldn’t feel how sweaty my palms were. 

He was polite throughout our formal greeting, seeming genuinely pleased to have me joining his team. 

“It’s great to have you,” he responded quickly after the general introductions had been made, eye contact never wavering, “we have great need of someone of your talents.” 

I was well aware that at that moment my face, and neck were flamed red. 

“Thank you,” I offered in reply, releasing my hand from his grip, maintaining my smile, “I can’t wait to get started.”

I was asked questions, from both Strauss and Hotchner, regarding my time in the counter terrorism unit. They paid compliments on the work they had reviewed, expressing confidence in my ability to tackle a new role at the BAU.  

Much of the conversation surrounded my accolades, traversing from the beginning of my career up until this point. Although I had already been hired for this new role, Strauss wanted to analyse my experiences. I believe this was more for my new boss’ benefit rather than my own. I was proud of my achievements but couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with the attention they were acquiring. 

It got to a point, thankfully, where the conversation grew stagnant, Strauss having had dissected as much of my work as she could, steered her attention to the paperwork on her desk, all but for a moment before turning it back to the male beside me. 

“Have you gotten a chance to read over the case I left on your desk?” 

“I’ve already gathered the team; we’ll be debriefing on the jet once we’re done here.” Agent Hotchner answered. 

Strauss nodded and looked to me, “I understand there has been no time to adapt to your surroundings, albeit that is the nature of the job. If you have no objections, I can clear you to start with the team today.” 

“You want me to start now?”

“Is that a problem?” 

“No Ma’am.”

The eagerness I tried to stifle all morning churned.  

I understood the nature of the job, having had worked in law enforcement and completing a stint in the counter terrorism unit. I was aware that both jobs were vastly different to that of working as a profiler. There were elements in each that overlapped one another, but this was different. I knew the nuisances of behavioural analysis; mode and method of it all.

My role was to look through the eyes of a criminal, to understand them – my own biases aside – to use that information to find and apprehend them.

“There is some paperwork that needs to be completed first,” Agent Hotchner spoke up, looking to Strauss before turning back to me, “but if you have a go-bag at the ready, I don’t see a problem with you completing it once we return.”

I knew what the implications were if things went wrong; but this was a chance to prove myself. 

They were both looking to me now, Strauss no longer seated. Both awaiting my answer.

I didn’t make them wait long.   

“It’s in my car,” I responded, stifling a smile, “I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect on my first day; I thought it would be safe to bring it just in case.”

That seemed to have settled things and brought our meeting to an end.

Strauss, not one for luck, wished me well and bid us goodbye. 

I followed Agent Hotchner out of the room and towards what I could only presume to be the teams meeting room. 

The convergence point, having been the round table, adorned with papers, tablets, folders, and the like. The chairs, seven of the eight, were already filled by the members of my new team. They were engrossed in the information being presented before them, eyes scanning the pages, and images of the case files.  

Agent Hotchner rapt his knuckle on the door garnering their attention. They looked up, leaning forward in their seats, interest piqued by what I could only assume was the addition of my presence.

“Everyone this is Agent Andrews,” he looked from his team, one by one, and brought his gaze back to me, face masked, giving nothing away, “She’ll be joining the team and starting on this case. We’ll be moving the briefing onto the jet. They’re needing us on the ground as soon as possible.”

I stood there, taking in the sight of my new team, watching as they had begun to clear up around them, readying to leave. 

They didn’t hesitate to acknowledge my presence with a chorus of welcome as they each rose from their seats and made their way to where I stood. 

I was first approached by a woman of small stature, her height adjusted by a pair of sparkly black chunky heels. 

“Penelope Garcia,” she offered me her hand to take, a dazzling smile lighting up her face, “welcome to the team!”

There was something comforting about her presence – something that gave off an iridescent kind of glow that emanated from her, enough to put me at ease.

Perhaps it was the way in which she chose to present herself, bright colours adorning all her clothes, and accessories. Soft tendrils of bleach blonde hair framing her face, bright blue eyes shielded by a pair of ruby red glasses. She was joy personified. 

Derek Morgan, and David Rossi were next, with Agent Rossi sure to stress his preference of being called Dave, followed by a laugh and a firm shake of his hand. Emily Prentiss followed quickly offering a quip on my getting used to the boisterous bunch, kindness radiating from her. Dr. Spencer Reid, had followed behind, the last in the room to introduce themself. He gave me a smile, one just as kind as the rest. 

Though I was quick to realise that we were missing someone. 

Agent Hotchner must have noted my puzzled expression, watching as I looked around the now empty room. He responded with a wry smile, “you’ll meet our Communications Liaison, Agent Jareau, on the Jet.” 

I smiled in response observing a strange feeling – one I couldn’t quite place – trickle through me as we stared at one another, his brown eyes piercing mine.

We didn’t stand there for very long, yet it was long enough to observe the energy that flowed between us. It was calming. 

I often found my superiors intimidating, especially those of the opposite sex. I didn’t allow that to impact my performance or stop myself from reaching new heights. I managed to make it this far in my career, I wouldn’t let my own insecurities or egotistical men get in my way. 

Therefore, it was an odd experience, the emotions that aired themselves freely as I stood there with him. Perplexing to say the least. 

That feeling, whatever it was, fizzled abruptly by the clearing of his throat. 

“We better get going.”

I gathered myself, mentally shaking my head. Time was of the essence and we were the only ones standing idly by in the conference room, the rest of the team already having left, making their way to the Jet. 

“Yes,” I breathed, voice low, “Sir.”

Taglist: @louderfortheback, @clarasmoon

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Darling, you were very coherent! (And I am very late replying to this comment, I'm so sorry <3)

YES supportive is totally the word you should be looking for! Because they are! They like to tease and whatnot, but at the end of the day, Sherl is getting laid and these boys have nothing but respect for that.

I mean... If anything they're just a little glad they're finally getting some stories with their 'little bro', because let's face it... At some point Sy's going to get tired of telling that story about that one time Mikey had run out of condoms and he didn't want to send the girl home but he also had enough active brain cells left to realize he wasn't exactly ready to become a dad, so he had to beg his next door neighbor for some of his stash... (@geralts-yenn are you listening?)

And poor Sherlock, thinking he had anything at all to apologize for.

Oh he'll be apologizing for things he needn't apologize for for another while, hihi. Poor little thing <3 (We love him, don't we?)

That shower scene is every shower with my husband. It cracks me up how accurate the need to be boiling in the shower while banishing him to chills on the other end of the stall even though I begged him to join me is. Clearly not an uncommon trope. 🤣🤣🤣

Those are the keywords, right??? We're always the one to ask... They're smarter than to say 'yes'. We convince them with charm and sometimes straight-up witchcraft. They suffer. Rinse and repeat.

And last but not least.

Charlie. Would you please take a seat.

I've invited @geralts-yenn and @ellethespaceunicorn for this conversation.

Ehm.

There's no easy way to say this, but...

Sol and Geralt are not breaking up.

You have to let it go, love.

Your slutty librarian is shagging a very nice, grumpy coffeeshop manager in another universe, who loves books and cableknit sweaters (provided they are in any way agreeable in the process of undressing)...

Part 28 - Happy Birthday

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 27 -- Part 29

Pairing: Sherlock x ofc (Elena)

Summary: Elena has a special birthday surprise for Sherlock.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, Sherlock being adorable, Elena being a little mean, sexting, rough-ish oral (m receiving), p-in-v (doggy), shenaningans with a raincoat, roommate-awkwardness... the works!

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: @geralts-yenn bullied me into posting this today. (The conversation went like: Me saying I wanted to post it, her saying I should and me doing that. There was no actual bullying involved.)

We're giving our sweet Sherlock a lovely birthday surprise. Elena's really testing the poor guy, but at least he's going to know what he does and doesn't like, dammit... Enjoy!

@deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos

“Are you alright, Holmes,” August said, one eyebrow raised, as he looked at his friend. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Indeed, Sherlock was staring at the phone in his hand as if something of grave importance had happened, yet he shook his head in response to the question. “Just Elena wishing me a happy birthday,” he said softly, realizing his mistake all too late, as the rest of his housemates stared back at him with rather telling grins on their faces. The remarkable thing about their expressions; they were all but identical.

“And how naked was she in that… text?” Sy asked, his grin widening even further.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t fight the grin – the same one they were all wearing, he noticed – off his face. Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed again, and the screen lit up to reveal another message from Elena, containing another picture.

Unfortunately, this time he was as bad at keeping his face in check as he had been the previous time, and everyone laughed.

“Significantly more naked, huh?” Geralt chuckled as Sherlock’s phone buzzed a third time.

“Progressively, even, it would seem,” he blurted out as he looked at the next photo, making the guys laugh even harder.

“I thought she wasn’t coming over?” Leon asked, still with that devilish smirk on his face.

“She isn’t,” Sherlock said, utterly confused. “Not as far as I know, at least.”

“Oh, she’s coming over,” Charles laughed. “She’s not that mean.”

“I don’t know,” Mike added, “she seems… bossy. In a way.” Sherlock involuntarily shrugged when he heard that, telling the guys more than they strictly needed to know.

Before the – very much dreaded – conversation could fully unfold, the doorbell rang, and all eyes turned to Sherlock once more.

“I’d jump this table to get to that door if I were you, mate,” Charles laughed. Instead, Sherlock opted to walk calmly to the door and open it. To his surprise – yes, really – he found Elena on the other side of it.

“Can I come in? It’s quite cold,” she said, shivering in the dark blue raincoat she had on. It was hardly appropriate attire for the current weather… “Hello boys,” she shouted as soon as she stepped into the house. Sherlock noticed she was taller than usual, prompting him to look at her feet. He’d never seen Elena in high heels, but he certainly enjoyed the sight.

“Come with me?” she asked mischievously, batting her eyelashes at him seductively.

“Sure, I was just finishing my drink, I… Can I get you anything?” he stammered. Elena rolled her eyes and glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen, where she saw Mike repeatedly slamming his forehead onto the kitchen table.

“Forget about the drink, Sherlock!” he grumbled.

Elena chuckled softly and refused politely when Sherlock offered to take her coat. She had expected this, of course, and the involvement from the audience only made her enjoy this all the more.

“She’s not wearing anything underneath that, genius,” August said, also clearly experiencing some secondhand frustration at his friend’s ignorance. As he made his comment, Elena stepped around Sherlock and paced to the kitchen, poking her head around the doorframe and counting the faces in the room. Seven. Should be good.

“Anyone else in the house?” she asked Geralt, who slowly shook his head.

She promptly turned around and leaned in the doorway, her back facing the kitchen, and opened the buttons of the coat, letting it fall open. As it did, so did Sherlock’s mouth. August hadn’t been quite correct, but he hadn’t been far off, either: the little stunt revealed some gorgeous lace, but nothing more than that.

“I’ll return him in the morning,” Elena joked, leaving the boys in the kitchen laughing.

“In one piece?” Leon asked.

“Not making any promises,” she laughed before walking towards Sherlock, who hadn’t moved from his most recent location by the door. “I’m giving you two minutes to join me, or I’m starting without you.” And then she made her way up the stairs.

“What are you waiting for?” August asked incredulously, staring at Sherlock, who stood in the hallway as though he had been nailed to the floor. “Go!”

“If you don’t go after her, I will,” Charles laughed.

“In your dreams, Brandon,” Sherlock growled, glaring at the crowd that had gathered in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Are you running out the clock or what?” Mike added to the conversation – utterly unhelpfully, of course. “Seriously, get upstairs or I’m siding with Charles.”

Due to his overwhelming desire to keep some shred of decorum, Sherlock didn’t quite sprint up the stairs, but he undoubtedly moved with a hastiness that was rather uncharacteristic for him. His slightly trembling hands made him fumble with the lock on his bedroom door a while longer than he had hoped, and he made his way up the last set of stairs two steps at a time. He found Elena sitting on the edge of his bed, still in the trench coat. She got up as soon as she saw him, and walked over, her hips swaying enticingly with every step.

“Happy birthday, love,” she said as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” he replied. “You know, you did an abysmal job of wrapping my present,” he continued as he slipped his hands under her coat, “I can see what it is quite clearly.”

“You seemed pretty clueless a moment ago, darling,” she taunted.

She spoke slowly, her hands roaming his back and sides. Involuntarily, she licked her lips as she felt his muscles flex beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I have to admit it’s a lovely surprise,” Sherlock said. A light blush had appeared on his cheeks, which deepened as Elena put her lips on his neck. If his quickening breathing, and the quiet gasps and moans that escaped him, hadn’t given away that he liked her ministrations, the fact that he let his head drop to the side to give her easier access would have. Elena used this time to unbutton his shirt, which he gratefully helped her take off once she had completed her mission. Sherlock, in turn, pushed the coat off her shoulders quite impatiently, and let his hands roam her body freely.

“So, what do you think?” she whispered in his ear before stepping back a little, showing him what she had on, for the first time without any distractions.

“I thought I would want you to take it all off as soon as possible,” Sherlock admitted as he grabbed her waist and pulled her back, “but I actually quite like it. Especially the shoes.”

Her eyes lit up as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “The shoes, huh?” She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, luring a soft moan from his throat while her hands occupied themselves with undoing is belt and trousers.

For a moment, Sherlock wondered whether he should be ashamed of the fact that he was already hard – a thought all but forgotten when Elena’s hand found it’s way into his trousers and wrapped around his cock. Just as he was about to kiss her again, her face disappeared, and she sank to her knees in front of him. The sight of her was enough to make him twitch in her grasp, which in turn made her chuckle. Then, when he rushed to push his trousers and pants down to give her access, she struggled to fight back her laughter. His apologetic smile told her that he had noticed, and she grinned back at him, while torturing him with teasingly slow strokes of her hand. Her teasing continued with the soft touch of her tongue, licking a line from the base of his cock to the tip. She relished his moans and almost pitiful whimpers as her tongue passed the places she knew to be the most sensitive, barely touching his skin, but even more than that she thrived on the idea that she was rolling him up.

It was the hand that suddenly found its way to the back of her head, where it gripped her auburn curls as Sherlock thrust into her mouth. The movement was gentle yet decisive, and took her by surprise so much that she dug her fingernails into his thighs on a reflex.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said several times while she chuckled and pressed soft kisses to his thighs where she had clawed at his skin a tad too roughly.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I just wasn’t expecting it!” And without further ado, she took his cock into her mouth again. This time, she allowed Sherlock to move in a gentle rhythm that she followed, until his fingers once again angled in her hair and pulled her back. He couldn’t speak, but his eyes screamed impatience and need at her. In the way he offered her his hand to steady herself as she got up, his regular gentlemanliness shone through, but it disappeared as soon as she stood in front of him, and he pulled her in, fingers digging possessively into the flesh of her arse.

The only reason they made it to the bed was the need to grab a condom from the nightstand, but Elena could see in Sherlock’s eyes – and in the way his hands frustratedly fumbled with the packaging – that it was extraordinarily difficult for him to keep his composure. In the end, she had to take over for him, but it was fun to watch him struggle for a while. At least, she thought so. He seemed to be of a different opinion entirely.

He was almost rude in his ministrations when he turned her around, so she sat on hands and knees in front of him, and impatient in chasing his desire. With a swift, decisive movement, he pulled her underwear to the side, not bothering to take it off her. In fact, he quite liked the view this position provided him with, and he was going to take full advantage of the situation. A sound that was half-chuckle, half-growl escaped him when his fingers encountered the wetness that had gathered between her legs, and without hesitation and with a single thrust, he sank into her dripping core.

“Fuck,” she muttered quietly under her breath, only to leave ‘quietly’ for what it was when he began to move. He was rough – almost cruelly so – and passionate, soon making her arms give out. Elena relished the grunt that escaped him when she arched her back, meeting his movements with every thrust. She was surprised by a swift and light smack on her behind when she attempted to move.

“No, stay.” She’d indulge him, for now. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed Sherlock was completely caught up in chasing his own release, and she succumbed to his treatment, a grin spreading on her face as she allowed her mind to wander and move through all the different possibilities with the man she was seeing right now – a man who seemed far more willing, possibly even eager, to experiment than she had originally thought.

Soon, his movements became erratic, letting her know he was close. His last few thrusts were so uncontrolled that she buried her face in his pillow, unable to keep herself from screaming, and when he pulled out, she collapsed onto the bed. After some time, she looked over her shoulder, only to find a terrified-looking Sherlock on the far end of the bed, sitting just about as far away from her as the space allowed. She looked at him, her eyes begging him to join her, but he did not move. Instead, he just sat there; completely still, and staring into the distance.

“Sherlock, come here and give me a hug,” she said with a smile as she stretched out her leg to caress his thigh with her foot. It worked; he finally looked at her, and after another brief moment, he moved to lie down next to her, wrapping her safely in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice drenched with an apology she couldn’t quite place. What on earth was he apologizing for?

“Why?” she asked, confused.

“I didn’t mean to be so… harsh,” he said softly, avoiding her eyes.

Elena couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Harsh? Oh, darling, you weren’t!” She gently stroked his cheek, smiling up at him before burying her face in his neck. “That was quite lovely, actually. Although I really do prefer being the one in charge.”

Her words left Sherlock looking down at her in surprise, and – or so he noticed – did nothing to alleviate the overwhelming need he felt to explain himself. “I couldn’t help myself,” he groaned, “I needed you so badly, I…”

“Stop apologizing right now,” Elena laughed, “or I’ll have to find a way to shut you up.” And though Sherlock did as she asked, she still kissed him fiercely – to prove a point, perhaps?

“How will you get home,” Sherlock wondered out loud, causing Elena to groan and bury her face in his neck. She had been enjoying the quiet cuddling that had been going on until Sherlock decided to ruin the perfectly blissful moment with his reasonable concerns and logic.

“I’m not thinking about leaving just yet,” she muttered.

“You’re welcome to stay, but that will only postpone having to deal with the problem,” he chuckled.

“Hm, yes, let’s postpone dealing with the problem, please,” she laughed before gently nipping at his neck. Her hand moved down over his chest, hooking around his waist and pulling him close. “I can think of something far more fun to do.”

“Again?” he chuckled in disbelief. “I’m not complaining,” he clarified as she moved away to look at her with raised eyebrows, “I’m just wondering… Will this end?”

“Will what end?” she asked.

“This constantly wanting you?” He moaned the words rather than speaking them, and Elena let out a gentle laugh – the one that warmed his heart without fail every single time he heard it.

“At some point… frequency will drop, yes,” she said softly, “but I hope it won’t be for a long while. I love this part.”

Before he could say anything in protest, her lips sealed over his and she impatiently ran her tongue over the seam of his lips. Moments later, they were completely lost in each other again, this time finding a gentler rhythm. His thrusts were slow and steady, luring moans and gasps from both of them with every move. Her legs wrapped securely around his waist, and her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her.

“God, you’re amazing,” she moaned softly, making him chuckle. Surely, she couldn’t mean that? He honestly didn’t see how he could have any sort of skill in an area in which he had so direly little experience. An unintentionally apologetic smile served as an answer, to which she responded in turn by pulling his face to hers and kissing him once again.

“Do you think you can manage a fourth time, or can I go take a shower?” Elena laughed when she – finally – laid down next to Sherlock, who was struggling to catch his breath.

“No, that would be quite impossible, I fear,” Sherlock sighed. He briefly opened his mouth to speak again, only to decide against it. First of all because breathing was difficult enough as it was, and secondly because he was sure that the question he had in mind was a rather foolish one, as became obvious through her response.

“Good, because I don’t think I could take another round.” The words were accompanied by a deep sigh and several gentle kisses to his chest. “You could come with me?”

Sherlock struggled to ignore Elena’s fingers as they trailed over his chest. “To the bathroom?” Elena couldn’t fight back a chuckle when she heard his words. Granted, his brain wasn’t working optimally, but his confusion was rather endearing, nonetheless.

“Into the shower,” she clarified, her lips brushing lightly over the skin of his neck as she spoke.

“That hardly seems…”

“It’s romantic, Sherlock,” Elena sighed with a soft chuckle to her voice and a sweet smile on her face that slowly morphed into a pout she knew would convince him.

“It’s mostly rather cold,” Sherlock grumbled a while later, when Elena was hogging all the water, only to regret his words when she pulled him under the stream. “Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed before all but jumping backwards. “This isn’t romantic, Elena, this is attempted murder. I’m not quite sure what kind of witchcraft allows you to immerse yourself in boiling water, but I quite enjoy having skin, thank you very much.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Elena pouted, grabbing Sherlock’s hand as he reached for the faucet, “it’s nice.”

In response to her plea, Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and threatened to leave, to which Elena replied by begrudgingly agreeing to set the water to a more universally enjoyable temperature.

“I agree it’s quite nice like this,” Sherlock said as he pulled her closer, “but half of me is still freezing.”

“I know,” Elena chuckled, “but I like being close to you.”

“You can do that in my bed, where it’s warm,” he replied, moving away to step out of the shower. “I’ll see you there?”

Elena whined, but reluctantly let go of him, turning the temperature on the water up again as soon as Sherlock was gone.

When she finished rinsing her – or rather; Dani’s – conditioner out of her hair and drying off, she put Sherlock’s bathrobe back on. It was a little large on her, which made it all the more comfortable. She had just finished towel-drying her hair when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Elena?” Mike? What was he after? He clearly knew she was in the bathroom, and he was also clearly looking for her, but why? She checked her bathrobe – one could never be careful enough when it came to preventing accidental flashing of partners’ housemates, or so she had once found out. The whole affair had been rather humiliating. After making sure the risks had been reduced to a minimum, she opened the door.

“Yeah?” Mike was standing outside the bathroom with a massive grin on his face.

“Sherlock isn’t exactly the sweatpants and hoodie type,” he said, his signature dorky smile widening. At times, that grin was so maddening that Elena found herself wanting to slap it off his face, and other times it was endearing and somehow oddly appropriate. This instance belonged in the latter category. “Figured you could use these. Y’know, so you don’t have to go home quite as naked as you got here…” “Thank you,” she laughed, gratefully taking the clothes he held out to her.

[corpse-flow3r]

ok listen. Welcome Home(stuck) brought to you by: sleep deprived autism brain

apologies in advance if this is Not Coherent I am very tired

Wally would be a purple blood . look at him. he's so silly also purple bloods are usually Very Large and Wally is like 12 apples tall and the image of tiny pompadour juggalo is very silly to me

Barnaby is purple too he is literally The Silly Guy Ever i don't need more reasoning

coming as a surprise to no one at all Julie is an olive blood she literally has Nepeta's horns what do you want from me

I'm torn between making Frank a bronze or violet blood bronze because of his love for butterflies if he could communicate with them i think he would be so happy but also violet just. fits? sort of? i literally can not explain why

I genuinely have no idea what to give Eddie everything could fit but also nothing fits help m

I think Howdy should be indigo w/ a mutation of a second pair of arms . with all the stuff he has to carry around for his shop he has to be Very Strong or he could be cerulean with his arms and legs both doubled cuz then he still has 8 limbs and. yea

Sally is probably a gold blood I think she would be powerful enough to vaporize a man but only use her psionics to for Entertainment Purposes

you might think since Poppy is like the Mom Figure of the neighborhood she would be a jade but no. she's fuchsia. she deserves POWER but also shes too nice

[courtney-deserved-better]

Please do Chase and Emma for the character bingo, I need your thoughts

man chase is such a asshole and emma should NOT have taken him back, like, twice after the shit he pulled. but i do find him entertaining. like a love to hate him kinda thing yknow? i do think his personality is really interesting because he can read as a nice normal guy and then something comes up and you're like OH this dude sucks actually. i think the writers did a good job with his character in that they did a great job of making him awful while still understanding why emma dated him.

emma is at her peak in the first half of the season when she's trying to murder chase and being besties with bowie. that emma i love. when she gets back with chase multiple times and turns on bowie? not so much. HOWEVER i (unlike what i've seen from other people) do think it makes sense why she gets back together with chase. its more emphasized with chase but she too was a part of that youtube house and doing crazy stunts for fame. she's definitely right to be angry with chase and i think the righteousness of her anger sort of hides the fact that she too has been impacted by going viral and whatnot. im struggling to find the right words but when i heard chase and emma's backstory it reminded me of this article which is. certainly something. while emma is nowhere near as narcissistic and awful as chase, and has definitely been a victim of his, she is also self centered and considering her backstory that makes sense. she wants so badly to hear an apology from chase and to have him put her first that she's willing to assume his actions are to cater to that need. she spends a lot of time complaining about chase to bowie but when her feelings on chase change on a dime, she assumes that bowie's feelings must match hers or otherwise he's against her, when in fact he's making very reasonable decisions based on past experience. i have a lot of thoughts on emma's characterization that i tragically am too tired to be coherent about right now but hopefully i will be able to post a better analysis in the future. again, i VERY much enjoy emma before she got back with chase, but i do think her behavior afterward isn't totally unreasonable considering her character. she turned on bowie due to her self centeredness but she is still a victim of chase's narcissm.