#difficult to tell how much is the book (and if so how much is you genuinely not vibing / liking it and how much is the book pushing you

[just1cefor4ll]

—squid game characters with a s/o who struggles w/ self harm

warning. swearing, not proof read, mentions of drugs, sh, might be OOC

characters. Kim Jun-hee, Hwang In-ho, Hwang Jun-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Cho Sang-woo, Choi Su-bong/Thanos

—Hwang Jun-ho

since he is a cop, he’d most likey notice your change in behaviour fairly quickly

he’d feel deeply hurt because he didn’t pay attention to his s/o enough to stop this from happening sooner—but he’d keep his emotions in check to focus on your wellbeing

would outright ask what’s troubling you but would definitely not push you if you feel that the topic is too sensitive

baby steps!! don’t push yourself >:((

he’d want to understand what’s causing your distress and reassure you you’re not alone.

might look up professional resources or reach out to someone he trusts for guidance

as an officer, he and many of his co-workers are encouraged to seek therapy as well and after he got shot by his brother he had frequented his visits— so he somewhat knew what you were getting yourself into and calmed you down if you felt nervous the first time you went

would drive you to and from the therapist, always waiting with your favourite snack or drink but wouldn’t really ask too much about it

stays close and checks in often

would make sure you never feel isolated, even in small ways like texting or keeping you company during his breaks when he’s on shift

wouldn’t push too hard but wouldn’t let you shut him out either

—Hwang In-ho

i feel like In-ho is a very observant partner so he’d probably notice your subtle changes in behaviour

he’d likely keep a closer watch on you after you tell him what you’re struggling with without you realizing it

might take drastic steps, like removing harmful objects, restricting certain things, or even making executive decisions for your well-being

he’ll try his best to reassure you, but his actions will show you he does care and ensures you feel safe and heard

seeing you suffer might remind him of his own past choices, leading to personal guilt

he will probably book you a therapist without asking, not meaning it in a bad way but tries his best to help you accustom to this

—Cho Sang-woo

with how much work he has, he’d most likely not notice as soon as In-ho or Jun-ho

once he finds out though he will want to discuss it and will be very straightforward

he’s worried for you, he cares and loves you dearly but he also tends to get frustrated easily which leads to a few arguments if you’re being stubborn on getting help

he’d try and keep his emotions in check, putting your well being first and realises that this situation isn’t very easy for you

that leads to him being way more gentle towards you, calming his emotions and thinking a lot more (even though he already does) before he speaks

will be very proud of any of your accomplishments and steps forward and loves your excited smile when you come from therapy, always listening without complaints with a smile

stays up at night to hear you talk if anything is on your mind, gently rubbing your back to ease your storm of a mind

—Kang Dae-ho

upon learning of your situation, Dae-ho would likely feel a strong urge to protect you from further harm and would be by your side 24/7

this sweet man would be so worried for you, he’d definitely suggest a good therapist he had in the past due to his own issues from the marines

he would keep an eye on you, ensuring you’re safe and intervening if he notices harmful behavior

might share his own challenges and coping strategies, showing you he understands this is a difficult time for you and that he’s here

it’d definitely shake him up that he didn’t notice sooner and that he wasn’t here to prevent all of this from happening, guilt and shame bubbling up in him

i definitely see him buying you a emotional support animal like a dog or whatever he finds that you’d love

would take you out on trips and walks if you’re feeling like it, showing you the world is a nice place and you have yet to see it all

—Kim Jun-hee

feels deep concern for you, prioritizing your well-being above all else

she would offer a compassionate ear, allowing you to express your feelings without judgment, reflecting her nurturing nature.

Jun-hee would provide comfort, possibly sharing her own vulnerabilities to create a safe space for you

understanding the gravity of sh, she might gently suggest seeking therapy or counseling, emphasizing that it’s a sign of strength to seek help

compliments you ten times more then usual, aiming to boost your self esteem and show you you’re truly a wonderful human being

might take steps to remove potential triggers from your surroundings and introduces calming activities to help you cope

she knows healing is a process and would remain patient, offering unwavering support throughout your journey no matter how long it may be

—Choi Su-bong

Su-bong had his own addictions in the past.. the fact he used to do drugs wasn’t unknown to you so his first reaction would be anger

why would you hurt yourself when you know how much it can fuck up your life? he was the perfect example of that so why?

he calmed down soon enough and understood he himself had his reasons, and probably so did you

he knew better than anyone how hard it was to break old habits. he’d be there for you, but he was broken too—so getting professional help was for the best

this situation might encourage him to reflect on his own past struggles and behaviour, leading to personal growth and a deeper understanding of your pain.

he’ll always be there to talk and listen— even though he seems childish and all that I think in private he’d be a completely different person you can depend on and tell your struggles to

he’d blame himself for your pain, no amount of you telling him it’s not his fault would change that

[leighsartworks216]

A Bargain Struck

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Chapter One

I almost forgot to post this today!! When I say it's been a day y'all, it has been a day

Warnings: swearing, fear of infection, intimidation, child death (mentioned), implied murder

Word Count: 923

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You think this is some joke to him. He’s walking ahead of you, albeit incredibly slowly, while you shuffle along the wall, scraped hands guiding you through what you can only assume is a cave. The walls are rough and jagged, not to mention winding. You think you feel doorways, but every time you start to turn into one to try getting any vague impression for what’s inside, he chastises you with an amused, “Over here, pet.”

You huff when your toe hits stairs. “This is your home?” you bite. You shuffle one foot forward to feel for the next step. What a nightmare. “Were you raised by Wanderers or something?”

He chuckles deeply. It reverberates around the hall. “It’s much worse than that.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Hmph. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

“Asshole.”

“Careful, pet. Your god is watching.”

The cave is cool, seemingly untouched by the sun outside. The chill numbs your feet, bites at your fingertips. Even your ceremonial garb does little to keep you warm. You just bite your cheek. You’re already a prisoner here, best not allow yourself to be too weak around him. A difficult task, indeed.

You misjudge one of the steps. Your toes just catch the edge, but it’s not enough to support you and they slip. With no railing to hold, you cannot grasp for support. You tip backward with a shout.

Something hard wraps around your waist again. It holds you tightly, shoving you forward and onto a solid platform. Had that been the top step? You’re sick and tired of landing on your hands and knees like this.

You’re released as you sit up, back finding a solid wall to lean into as you cover your heart and will it to stop racing. “Ah,” you pant, “thank you.”

The “wall” suddenly steps away from you, and you catch yourself in another heart-stopping moment to save yourself from tipping backwards. “I won’t save you next time.”

“Let me go and there won’t be a next time.”

He chuckles, but it lacks any real mirth. “Get up. Or do I have to drag you the rest of the way?”

You sigh. Still, he doesn’t rush you when you sit a moment longer to calm your heart. Ever since you were a child, your health was of the utmost concern. You couldn’t do anything with the other kids, and not because of your lack of sight. Even braille books were considered too dangerous. The risk of a paper cut getting infected and killing you was a risk nobody was willing to make. As such, this much excitement was a shock to your system.

And suddenly, you find yourself worried about the tiniest cut getting infected and killing you out here.

You reach out, feeling for the real wall this time. Loose sand scrapes beneath you as you bring yourself to your feet. “Do you have any medical supplies here?”

He starts walking again and you follow.

“Would you be able to use them if I said yes?”

You wish you could see, just so you could smack him upside the head. “You keep underestimating me. I suggest you stop now before you embarrass yourself.”

“That’s a gamble I’m willing to take.” He sighs, sharp and tired, annoyed. “I might have some around.”

“Well, do you have water, at least? Clean cloth?”

“You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“And you’re an insufferable bastard. Neither of us are too happy with each other, but if you won’t let me go, I suggest you do the bare minimum and allow me to clean my injuries,” you hold out your palms, unsure if he’ll even see them, “so I don’t get sick and die.”

His steps come to a stop. You stop with them. Your skin prickles and crawls, unsettled and on edge. His steps approach. You lean your shoulder into the wall, holding your ground rather than being backed up to some other possibly dangerous or deadly area in the cave.

“Tell me a prophecy, and I’ll get you your medical supplies.”

You scoff. “It’s not that simple. It’s Astra who picks and chooses what futures I see. I know nothing of you. All the prophecies I know right now are for the people in the city.”

Is that his breath fanning across your face? You flinch back at its heat. You feel like an injured rabbit facing down the maw of a starved wolf.

His voice is low when next he speaks. “Then tell me one of them.”

You turn your face away. His breath hits your cheek, though tendrils of the air brush down your neck. You suppress a shiver. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “There’s a scholar there. He studies the heavens and tracks their movement. His parents are anxious for him to conceive an heir. His wife is pregnant now, but…”

“But…?”

“... The child… will be a stillborn. They won’t know the cause of death, and that shame will fall to the mother. She won’t live long after, either, once the scholar crumples under the disappointment.”

He hums. The heat of his breath disappears. “I’ll get you your medicine. Next time, I’d be interested in hearing a prophecy of my own future.”

“Then you’ll have to pray to Astra. Only he can grant you the knowledge you seek; I’m just the messenger.” “Well, messenger,” he steps around you and nudges you with an elbow, “this is where you’ll sleep. Try not to fall down the stairs looking for me.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

[after-witch]

Oh What a Birthday Surprise [wri0thesley’s OC Lucas x Reader

Title: Oh What a Birthday Surprise [@wri0thesley's OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: You want to surprise Lucas on his birthday.

Word count: 2841

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abuse

Lucas is not much for celebrating his birthday. 

You know this, not from experience but only because he mentioned it to you, when you’d finally asked--soft, tentative--when he was born. It wasn’t that you truly needed to know--but details were good, especially if you thought you wanted them.

Technically speaking, the question was asked out of that self-preserving politeness that you’ve begun to hone so keenly in order to keep yourself appealing; to keep yourself alive.

Still. Something about the way he mumbled it, the way he confessed that he never paid it no mind. It made something twist inside you. Some curdled bit of pity.

Your own birthdays… before… had been wonderful, delightful affairs. Filled with friends and noise and laughter.

Your friends would take you out shopping, to some excursion, and end with dinner. Sometimes they even planned overnight trips so everyone could squeeze every last ounce of fun from the event. The evenings would end with cake and candles and everyone drunkenly scream-singing “Happy Birthday!” before you all dug in.

Your last birthday had not been quite so grand, though you wouldn’t say Lucas didn’t do his best. He bought a cake in town, and got you some fresh notebooks that you’d asked for (completely new, from the drugstore--oh, to have a notebook without someone else’s scribbles inside it, someone else’s desperate scrawls for help-help-help!) and even some new books. 

Well, used. But new to the cabin, and that was all you wanted.

He let you watch one of the few movies he’d procured that weren’t Westerns. A romantic comedy  that you used to binge-watch on VHS during summer break from school. He was gentler, that night, in bed; more focused on your own pleasure than pounding inside you, as he sometimes did when he got overwhelmingly smitten.

It was a nice day, all things considered.

Maybe that’s why you decided to make his birthday as nice as you could. Within reason, within your severe limitations. Yet there was a nagging thought: what if he told you not to? What if he waved you away if you asked him what he wanted for his birthday?

What if, what if, what if. Maybe those little what-ifs were why some little impulsive imp in your head told you to make it a true-blue surprise. He might not make a fuss over his birthday, but he couldn’t object to you going the extra mile if he didn’t know about it.

There’d be no twisting in your gut if he waved away attempts to find out what he wanted, or sternly told you to leave his birthday alone. No sighs, no slamming of the door leading to the backyard, just a delightful smile and a pat on your head for being so sweet.

Right?

Right.

--

You have to be sneaky. But life with Lucas, by design, makes this difficult. When you stretch your arms and stand up from the sofa with the intent of going into the spare room to work on your gift, he wants to know where you’re going and why you don’t want him to follow and how long you’ll be good.

And you can’t tell him, exactly, that you’re going to work on the handmade scrapbook you’ve decided to give him. Sketches of the cabin, of the chickens, of nature outside the bedroom window. Of him, listening to his record player, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

An almost serene expression on his face, caught before he turned and saw you staring, and stammered something about not staying up too late.

It’s really a ridiculous book. An overly cloying, sentimental thing that only a parent should enjoy (and even then, it would swiftly find itself relegated to the inside of a drawer once childhood faded); but you think Lucas won’t mind the saccharine, homemade nature of it all.

If you could just keep it a secret for two more weeks, anyway.

--

You’re hunched over the worn-out sitting chair in the spare room, adding some color to one of your birthday sketches, when a sudden heavy prickling presence crawls over your back--

Lucas clears his throat and you practically jump, colored pencil nearly stabbing the paper as you bring the book up to your chest.

“Lucas!” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t see you there. I thought--you said you’d be out with the chickens.” It was the perfect opportunity, you’d decided, to get some more work done on the book. With Lucas outside, there was less of a chance that he’d see--that he’d snoop.

So you thought.

It’s hard to make out his expression too clearly, from this distance. It had been two years now since your last eye exam, and you were sure you needed a new prescription. The thought of bringing up such a request with Lucas made you feel sick, so you didn’t. He’d just say no, wouldn’t he?

“Darlin,” he begins, voice low, almost hesitant. “What’re you doin’ in here? Thought I said you should tidy up the living room for me.”

“I did--” You stammer out the lie, stupidly, then correct yourself. “I mean--I was going to, after. I just had to do… something… and then…” The words curl up with your tongue, lying limp as you even from here, you can see his eyebrows start to furrow.

“You know I don’t like lyin’. Ain’t ladylike.” The admonition makes your stomach flip, and you claw desperately to steer everything in a more acceptable direction.

Setting your book away, sketch-side down so he doesn’t see, you stand up and fold your hands prettily together in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” you begin, voice quieter, more mousey. “I should have tidied up like you said. I just got… too eager to draw, and--” Your mind fights for what he might want you to say, and comes up with little else than contrition. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Lucas frowns. You can see that, even from here. Can feel it, really, in the air. 

Eventually, the tension in him loosens. Enough for the knot in your stomach to unwind a little, at least.

“Mind you don’t, darlin’,” is all he says, an edge at the tip of his words, before he gestures for you to follow--no doubt to tidy up the living room like you should have done in the first place.

Working on the book will have to wait until you can get him in a better mood.

--

Two days.

There are only two days left until Lucas’ birthday, and you’re quietly thanking God (if he really exists–you’re torn on that idea, now) for that because: one, there is a small sense of pleasurable curiosity at imagining how Lucas will react to your gift and two, two being the most important of these two factors: your nerves are just about shot. 

Lucas can tell something is up. You’ve been skimping on chores, running to the spare room before bed instead of waiting in the bedroom or living room while he finished up some outdoor evening chores, throwing out excuses when he catches you and asks what you were doing and why you didn’t tell him you were going to be in here. 

Each time seems to stretch something harder between you–some awful sort of tension that you hope will melt away as soon as he gets the book. 

Dinner was quiet, but not the comfortable, homey kind that Lucas sometimes enjoys. There was a thin string plucking against your chest the entire meal, as you placed forkful after forkful of food in your mouth. Meat, vegetables, the usual style of homespun dinner he enjoys and you’ve learned to eat without question.

All that is left tonight is dessert, a slice of blueberry pie you made with a heaping spoonful of ice cream on top, the edges of it melting against your plate as you try to discern if Lucas is angry with you or merely tired from splitting wood in preparation for the upcoming fall.

“Darlin.” 

 Your spoon trembles against the edge of the ice cream, and you set it down.

“Yes?”

When you flutter your lashes and look up at him, Lucas has his face set. Firm. Unyielding. You wonder if you did something truly awful and run a checklist through your mind–you kissed him good morning without a reminder, let him dress you without getting huffy about it, did your chores, set the table, chewed with your mouth closed, ate everything on your plate–and nothing stands out too much.

It’s worse, actually, to not have something to hold yourself accountable for in the face of his apparent irritation.

“You’ve been… quiet lately,” he says, finally, slow, picking his words carefully. “Like you got a secret.”

The food in your stomach feels as hard as a rock, and a low stomach cramp makes sweat bead on the back of your neck. 

You could tell him. Confess it all, right here, right now. Yes, you’ve been quiet and sneaky and weird–because you’re working on a stupid little gift and you thought it would be a good idea because you’re a great big moron.

But… the surprise would be ruined and there’s something awful about being so close to his birthday and giving up on the idea. You can make it through two more days, can’t you? The book is technically done, anyway. You’ve only got to wrap it, and you’re sure you saw some gift wrap in the back of the closet in the spare room. 

So you, divine actress you sometimes imagine you are, swallow hard and try to look demure and apologetic and weak. (You are, in truth, in the face of Lucas and axes and freezers of meat, one of these things.)

“I’ve… I’ve been really tired lately.” You flutter your lashes. “I haven’t been falling asleep right away and… I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.” 

Sorry, sorry, sorry, a word that flies from your lips so often nowadays, and Lucas seems to eat it up as heartily as he does his meals.

His voice is still gruff, though, and he still frowns despite the slight edge of a worried coo in his voice.

“You need an earlier bedtime, then. And no more extra sugar, least ‘till you start sleepin’ better.” His hand pulls away your pie plate, ice cream uneaten, and he sets about covering the plate with plastic to set in the freezer for some undetermined later date when dessert will be returned to you.

A shame–you really wouldn’t have minded eating ice cream tonight. 

--

Normally, Lucas’ grip on you is as tight as a vice. It was something you worried about, the last few nights, as you debated on how you were going to surprise Lucas with his gift. Ideally, you’d grab it before he woke up, so you could surprise him in bed. It would be more fun that way, more like something they do in the movies.

On this morning though, the morning of his birthday, his arm is not squeezing you like a particularly well-loved teddy bear but simply sprawled loosely across your chest; so loose that you can wiggle out from underneath it.

Which you do, slowly, one eye on him, sure that he’ll wake up with every inch you get. He doesn’t. His eyes stay closed and his mouth stays slack and eventually you reach the end of the bed, thrilled at your blessings, and silently step onto the floor in triumph.

Even then, you keep an eye on him as you creep as quietly as you can–homemade floorboards do love to creak–to the bedroom door. It opens too loudly, and you cringe; but Lucas stays asleep and your stomach flips with excitement as you make it into the hallway and down to the spare room.

You almost want to hum by the time you’re rifling through the closet, but catch yourself before you make too much noise. The book is right where you left it, hidden away in the closet underneath the faded lilac of a jaggedly unfinished crochet blanket.

The wrapping paper is shiny and smooth as you clutch the gift in your hands, a soft, almost stupid little smile on your face, and you turn to–

To find Lucas standing in the doorway, a hulking form, an axe slung over his shoulder, his expression a slightly blurred mask of betrayal and rage. 

There are thoughts in your head. Oh, yes there are. Short, simple.

Oh, you think. It’s Lucas.

Oh, you think. He has an axe.

And “Oh,” is what you say as it all clicks together, as there is an imaginative flash of him bringing the axe down on your skull, as you realize that he is going to kill you and it’s going to really, really fucking hurt. Your stomach clenches and there’s something warm running down your leg and your thoughts spin, desperate to think about something nice before it all ends–

And maybe.

Maybe there is a God after all, or just sheer dumb luck, because Lucas does not spring forward and bring the axe down in the middle of your face. Instead he seems to flinch, seeing the colorful purple-and-gold wrapping paper shimmering in the morning light creeping through the window, a shiny package clutched in your trembling hands.

It’s his turn, now, for “Oh.” His mouth forms a circle over the words, savoring them like cake. “Oh, darlin.’” The snarl turns into a trembling smile, something soft and intimate and almost new to his expression. “You… for my birthday?”

You’re not dead, you realize, eyes still frozen on the axe he’s holding. You’re not dead, because you can still speak. “Yes,” you said, wheezing. “I-I wanted to surprise you. For your birthday. I thought… thought that might be okay.”

“Darlin,” he says, softly, almost unbelieving. “‘Course it’d be okay. You think I’d say no to anything you make me? To you thinking ‘bout me so sweetly?” 

You don’t answer, and his gaze finally follows your own–the axe still slung against his shoulder, the handle gripped in his palm–and he looks almost sheepish as he steps back into the hall, hefts the axe back onto the wall, and comes back in the room with an almost shy smile on his face. 

There is even, just visible in the morning light, a blush deepening the color on his cheeks.

Like he’s pleased and embarrassed and like he didn’t intend to just bash in your face with the sharp end of an axe, like he wasn’t going to grind you into hamburger for a Friday night dinner, like he wasn’t about to end your life.

He steps forward, and it takes everything inside you, every bit of strength you’ve tried to build over your captivity, to not flinch as he embraces you, present squishing against your chest.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. No one’s ever made such a fuss for me on my birthday. ‘Cept you. You know that, honey?”

It is a testament to your carefully constructed layers, mud and slime hardened to protect you, that you do not let the internal scream pass your lips. You shove it down with the other reactions where it belongs--where it must be, if you want to live.

Still, you can’t speak. Not yet. You whimper something–in fear, in agreement, all mixing together in the moment. 

Lucas pets the back of your head, smiling down at you. He almost looks lost in love, in wonder. “Wouldn’t hurt you, sweetheart,” he continues, just as kindly. “Not as long as you never give me a reason to. You know that, don’tcha?” 

You nod, obedient spouse that you are, through the prickling tears that make him coo and wipe his thumb near your eyes.

He presses himself against you, and murmurs.

“If you ever left me, darlin’, why--I just couldn’t take it. Just couldn’t take it,” he repeats, holding you tighter. Kisses are pressed against the top of your head, and you feel him breathing through his nose, slower and slower. Like he’s the one who just had the fright of his life. 

Eventually, he pulls away, not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He’s got morning breath and so do you, but at least he didn’t kill you, so there’s no point in complaining. 

If Lucas feels any particular way about the damp patch against your nightgown, about the small puddle of urine on the cabin floor, by-products of seeing your own death in the doorway, he says nothing about it.

He’s kind enough to simply put his arm around your shoulder, your own arms still clutching the gift, and begin guiding you out of the room. 

“Thank you for thinking of me, honey. Let’s just… get ourselves cleaned up and I’ll open my present. I bet it’s something real special.”

He doesn’t stop smiling as he leads you into the bathroom–he won’t stop smiling all morning, in fact. 

Next year, you will simply ask him what he’d like for his birthday instead. 

[daincrediblegg]

anyone else up getting sick of hyper-cynic contrarianism that serves no real constructive purpose? or is that just me?

[skrunksthatwunk]

eughhh i feel dumb

[soracities]

I'm reading Possession by A.S Byatt right now, and I saw in one of your posts that you've read it!! I'm not close to finishing it and i haven't opened it since december, I really really want to love it, and part of me does but it's just very slow. Please tell me how wonderful it is to motivate me to continue, everyone who has read it seems to really like it!!

honestly most of my reasons for loving it as much as i do (aside from the fact that it really is just an astonishing book) are very personal ones so i don't know how much help those will be, but one thing i can say about it--and that i'm still captivated by--is how intense of a love letter it is inside and out--literally, and figuratively: it's not just a book about books or a book about reading and writing and study but also about the very intense hinterland that lies beyond and within those things and what kind of a resonance this holds--it's a book whose love language is language, by which i don't mean "words of affirmation" language, i mean the very texture and nature and depth of language itself and the act of engaging with it as intimately as writers, readers, and critics do (it's also got a very healthy dose of the Gothic which i love).

it is a slow read at the start, but thinking back on it i'm also not so sure how much of this is exceptional and how much is down to us being used to having narratives that move rather quickly through their own set-up because Posession absolutely does not do that. i do think its slowness, though, genuinely fits the book perfectly: most of the book revolves around academic detective work in an attempt to untangle this large, unexpected mystery but the act of research itself is slow (especially pre-internet)--even so there isn't a single chapter or a page that i think is extraneous to the story as a whole--whatever the characters are doing or experiencing, we're experiencing in tandem with them--the pace at which this narrative builds is also the pace at which the protagonists are moving through it, trying to uncover it or simply living it: they, and us as readers, are heading towards the same place, at the same time--to me (and maybe it's paradoxical, i don't know) this slowness is part of what makes it so immersive: each detail, each dead end, each archival trip, each story within the story, demands your attention in such a way that you're pulled in deeper as you attend to it all--you're part of this investigation, too.

if, as i said, your love language is language, is the historic, emotional resonance of storytelling (or you just love sardonic and pointed jabs at academia bc Byatt excels at this), then i definitely believe its worth seeing it through, purely for the immersion alone. but at the same time, i also want to say that i do think there's a time for certain books and you shouldn't put unnecessary pressure on yourself if that pressure is coming solely from seeing other people love it and feeling compelled to "catch up". but if there is a part of you that does love it then you are free to take your time with it and progress through at whatever steady pace feels best until you get a feel for it. but please don't feel as though it's something you HAVE to do either 💗

[laniidae-passerine]

Honestly I think Dean Highbottom has some shit to answer to as well. The mockery, the derision, the outright admittance that he was hoping Coriolanus would fail and the Snow family would continue to suffer. How someone who loathed the Games still treated a young man with cruelty because of the past, because of social divides that would be so easy to tear down. In the end, it wasn’t just Gaul who shaped Snow into the man he became. So bitter and hateful. So incapable of compassion and forgiveness. Just like his father. Just like his Dean.

[mintmentos]

Winds me up how many people I work with, when I say I read on the train, respond with ‘i wish I had time to read’ like babe you do??? Most of these people have a commute on the train of at least half an hour you could read then you’re just choosing not to

[strwbrymlkshake]

LOVE ME THE MOST THE MOST YOU POSSIBLY CAN!!!!!! LOVE ME THE MOST I NEED TO BE THE ONLY THING IN YOUR MIND

[yellowocaballero]

#miguel o'hara#i reblog a lot of miguel slander but hes actually a really well written character#miguel thinks about the greater good of the collective multiverse#and not just one kid#but at the same time#that kinda goes against spiderman's whole deal of fighting for the little guy (friendly neighboorhood spiderman)#idk if any of this makes any sense ive never read the comics#spiderverse @kitzels

Sorry for putting you on blast, but I definitely wanted to point this out! I actually intended to talk about this in the post, but the post was long enough already and it would have been off-topic lmfao. But this is really important. It's why Miguel is the antagonist in the story, and it's why he's pulling some real dick moves right now.

Miguel lacks compassion. He knows what defines Spider-Man, but he forgets what Spidey is about. Peter puts himself last, but I don't think he's ever thought about the bigger picture in his life lmfao. He's the most selfless person alive, but that's because he has a tendency to be selfish. Because his inability to let people die is a psychological guilt-based complex and not, like, a legitimate philosophical stance, he impulsively prioritizes saving the person in front of him and typically doesn't worry about the consequences. This is protagonist behavior that is true of the majority of protags.

But beyond dunking on the guy, it's also just because he's never cared about the bigger picture. That's not important to him. Peter doesn't care about politics or ego or the gears of the universe. He's in this game to save the guy in front of him, and he doesn't let it get more complicated than that. He's the friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, and a Spider-Man story that forgets how Peter just wanted to help the people on his block isn't really a Spider-Man story. Spidey's about NYC, and NYC is what he cares about. Leave the drama to the Avengers. Peter's here to help people, and he won't complicate that.

Peter's a compassionate person. He cares for every life. No one person is more important than another. He's also a normal person who doesn't enjoy murder. Daredevil will talk for two hours about the philosophical, legal, and spiritual reasons why he will never take a life and how difficult it is not to murder people all day, and Peter will stand there going, "Of course I don't kill people, that's a freak thing to do. Like 97% of the time it does not occur to me to kill a human person. That's a human person. Do you actively struggle not to kill people? Who who raised you." King.

Miguel lost that thread of Spider-Man, and it's what's making him the antagonist today. Spider-Man doesn't put the good of the many above the lives of the few. And Spider-Man doesn't BEEF WITH TEENAGERS -

Miguel is Fine, Actually (Being Spider-Man's Just Toxic As Hell)

Before I watched ATSV I said that I would defend my man Miguel O'Hara's actions no matter what, because he's always valid and I support women's wrongs. I was joking, and I did not actually expect to start defending him on Tumblr.edu. But I'm seeing a lot of commentary that's super reductive, so I do want to bring up another perspective on his character.

Miguel wasn't acting against the spirit of Spider-Man, or what being Spider-Man means. Miguel isn't meant to represent the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miles is the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miguel represents Spider-Man taken to its extreme.

Think about Miguel's actions from his perspective. If you were a hero who genuinely, legitimately, 100%, no doubt about it, believed that somebody is going to make a selfish decision that will destroy an entire universe and put the entire multiverse at severe risk - if you had an over-burdened sense of responsibility and believed in doing the right thing no matter what - you would also chase down the kid and put him in baby jail to try and prevent it. He believed that he was saving the multiverse, and that Miles was putting it in danger for selfish reasons. Which is completely unforgivable to him, because selfishness is what he hates the most. And then he goes completely out of pocket and starts beefing with a 15yo lmfaooo he's such a dick.

But why did Miguel believe that? Why did he believe that Miles choosing himself and his own happiness over the well-being of others was the worst possible thing? Why did he believe that tragedy was inevitable in their lives, and that without tragedy Spider-Man can't exist?

Because he's Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was once a fifteen year old who chose his own happiness over protecting others. It was the greatest regret of his life and he never forgave himself. Peter's ethos means that he will put himself last every time, and that he will sacrifice anything and everything in his life - his relationships, his health, his future - to protecting and helping others. Peter dropped out of college because it interfered with Spider-Man. He destroyed his own future for Spider-Man. He ruins friendships and romantic relationships because Spider-Man was more important. If Peter ever tries to protect himself and his own happiness, then he's a bad person.

That is intrinsic to Peter. Peter would not be Peter without it. A story that is not defined by Peter's unhappiness is not a Spider-Man story. If Peter doesn't make himself miserable, then he's just not Peter.

That is a Spider-Man story: that not only is tragedy inevitable, that if you don't allow yourself to be defined by your tragedy then you're a bad person. If you don't suffer, then you're a bad person. If you ever put anything above Spider-Man, then you're killing Uncle Ben all over again. Miguel isn't the only one that believes this - as we saw, every Spider-Man buys into what he's saying. There's no Spider-Man without these beliefs.

Miguel attempted to find his own happiness, and he was punished in the most extreme way. He got Uncle Ben'd x10000. He tried to be happy, and it literally destroyed his entire universe. It's the Spider-narrative taken to the extreme. Of course Miguel believes all of this. Of course he believes this so firmly. He's Spider-Man. That's his story. And the one time Miguel tried to fight against that story, he was punished. And like any Spider-Man, he'll slavishly obey that narrative no matter the evil it creates and perpetuates. Because if he doesn't, the narrative will punish him. The narrative will always punish him. It's a Spider-Man story.

I don't think the universal constant between Spider-Mans, the thing that makes them Spider-Man, is tragedy. I think it's the fact that they never forgive themselves. And Miguel is what that viewpoint creates. He doesn't believe this things because he's an awful, mean person. He believes them because he's a hero. He's a good person who hates himself.

Across the Spider-verse isn't really a Spider-Man story. It's a story about Spider-Man stories. Miguel's right: if this was a Spider-Man story, then Miles acting selfishly really would destroy the universe. But Miles' story isn't interested in punishing him. It pushes back against Peter's narrative that unhappiness is inevitable and that you have to suffer to be a good person. It says that sometimes we do the right thing from love and not fear, and that Peter's way of thinking is ultimately super toxic and unhappy. ITSV was about Miles deciding that he didn't need to be Peter Parker, that all he needed to be was Miles, and ATSV is about how being Peter Parker isn't such a good thing. Miguel shows that. Whatever toxic and unhealthy beliefs he holds - they're the exact same beliefs that any Spider-Man holds. He's a dick, but I don't think he's any more awful a person than Peter is.

TL;DR: Miguel isn't a bad person, he just has Spider-Man brainrot.

[ms-demeanor]

So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

[surgepricing]

I think about Azula shooters often and their common refrain of "if Azula hadn't had a mental breakdown, she would've won" and I'm here to tell you that no, she wouldn't have.

There is no universe in which Azula was winning that fight with Zuko (or Katara, for that matter).

Azula spent so much of Book 2 being built up as this deadly terrifying force against whom the heroes are badly outmatched that it can be difficult to catch exactly how quickly Zuko is advancing.

Back up a bit to Book One. For the fearsome exiled crown prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko's not that impressive a firebender. He's not bad by any stretch, and he's able to lay the untrained Sokka and Katara flat pretty easily. Then he gets in the ring with Aang, who is an airbending master, and the difference between a regular bender and a master becomes apparent when Aang literally puts his ass to bed:

People have attributed this to the fact that no one's fought an airbender in 100 years, but I think it's also worth noting that Aang (a 12 year old from a pacifist nation) has probably never fought anyone before. Like, ever. And yet the second Aang thinks "okay, I'll attack back", the fight's over.

Zuko's got the same genetic predisposition for firebending talent that Azula does, yet it never seems to manifest because of his mental blocks. At the beginning of the series, he's already so beat down that all he really has is conviction, pride, and anger, so even with training from Iroh (the firebending master, thank you very much), he struggles. Yet throughout Book 2, when he has no time to train because he's on the run, he actually seems to advance faster. The fact that his bending is literally tied to his character arc (as his morals become tangled and he has to fight off aforementioned mental blocks) is pretty brilliant. Like, by the time of the Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko getting his ass handed to him by Aang is a pretty consistent feature of the show--he just can't match wits with him.

Hell, at the beginning of the series, he and Iroh (again: the actual firebending master) launch a combined power surface-to-air attack...which Aang casually swats away into a nearby ice wall. Come the Crossroads of Destiny, however, and Zuko by himself launches this bigass fireball that blows through Aang's defenses.

Zuko advances so quickly that it's scary. That prodigious talent is in him even if it doesn't come through as cleanly as with Azula. Who, by the way, was busy about to get flattened by Katara some few dozen feet away, until Zuko took over and then effectively stalemated her himself.

All of this in retrospect makes it abundantly clear why Zuko's firebending seemed to skyrocket so much when he learned true firebending from the Sun Warriors: it was really the only thing left. He's hard a hard road learning how to fight waterbenders, earthbenders, and airbenders, and even if unconsciously, he's applying the philosophy Iroh taught him about augmenting his bending style with aspects of other styles (see also, the waterbending-like fire whips he uses in the above gif). Once he actually understands fire and how it works, he's got it mastered. Hence why any gap between him and Azula effectively disappears as soon as their next fight--before her friends have betrayed her and her stability goes out the window. There's no real sense of urgency to their fight at the Boiling Rock prison. True, Sokka's presence with the sword helps, but Zuko doesn't look remotely worried and he counters Azula's every attack perfectly.

All her life, Azula only ever learned fire. She was taught by the best people the fire nation can employ, so she knows all the cool tricks, but she's still poisoned by the corrupted firebending practiced in the modern ATLA timeline. Unlike Zuko, who managed to get the basics if nothing else from Iroh (fire comes from the breath, and can be used to survive as much as to kill), Azula has always used fire as a weapon and a means to hurt others. She has no true knowledge of the craft, meaning she's got the same weaknesses as Zhao, she's just better disciplined to the point she can make up for it.

Zuko's victory was a given considering Azula's complete loss of control by the time of Sozin's comet, but even had she been in a perfect mental state, she'd have lost, because in many ways Zuko is simply the better firebender.

And that's the truth of it.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ imagining heian era! sukuna tending to his pregnant wife, and slowly warming up to having a child.

౨ৎ when he finds out you are pregnant, he goes full 'nonchalant, but worried husband' mode. he did not want kids. he thought they were lousy and annoying, and they would not bring any use to his bloodline. he told you that this would just get in his way, and that you should find a way to get rid of it. but the way you looked up at him with your adorable dazzling eyes? eh, he could make it work, just for you. but he found it hard to warm up to the idea of having children.

౨ৎ hires the best of the best to guarantee your health is in tact. doctors? you will have daily checkups, which included the doctor coming to the estate, and keeping track of your daily prgress while you are bedside. such as seeing if the baby is kicking, how large your stomach grows, and even recommending you a special diet to hold the nutrients for your baby. he is doing all of this for you, not that pesky baby. handmaidens? they will double in number. you are more fragile than ever, and in his eyes, you need all of the female support you can get that he cannot provide.

౨ৎ would host a grand babyshower. there would be hundreds, even thousands of guests at your babyshower. it would be hosted somewhere with a large, outside venue, bustling with people coming to support you. people would give you their blessings, hoping the best for the newcoming ryomen. gifts for the baby such as clothes, furniture, etc. and for you? people will gift you a plethora of things. jewelry, trinkets, and everything under the sun. the citizens of the nearby villages will bow to your feet, wishing you the best. your pregnancy will be treated as an event. around the villages, it will be talked about.

౨ৎ makes a extravagant nursery for your child. it will be in a large room, making extra space for your baby. sukuna will notice you spend alot of time there, watching you decorate the nursery to your pleasing day by day. liked seeing you struggle to put the furniture together, as you are forced to ask him for help, as you watch his assemble a bassinette. you could tell he was starting to get used to the idea of having a child around the estate. as you list off all of your ideas for how you would decorate, he liked to think you might be a suitable mother.

౨ৎ you held a giant journal of names, keeping track of each one as time goes by. you wrote in the journal with an ink pen, sometimes even letting sukuna in on the name choosing. as you sat on his lap in his large office, he would suggest 'little roach', or 'annoying brat' for some of the names, which was quickly shut down. you will think intently upon each name, asking sukuna on his opinion. sukuna thinks he should be the one naming the child, but with his suggestions, that will not be happening. you'd be better off asking some of your handmaidens for advice.

౨ৎ would ask any ladies in the estate for advice as well. this is something he thought he would never have to do. but he finds it difficult to ajust to your pregnancy, due to your influx in hormones, making you seem emotional all the time. would ask your handmaidens why you become so emotional, but they seem offended with the way he worded it. but they realize that sukuna is naturally brash, so they help him by giving him tips and tricks for fatherhood. he tries his best, mostly caring about what he thinks is best for you, not so much your child.

౨ৎ liked looking at your stomach more often than he thought he would. he never knew you would look so goddamn cute swollen with his child, but here he was, watching as you lay in bed, reading a book of poems, as he sees his future child kicking inside your uterus. you child was larger than an average one, he noticed, due to his abnormal genes. placing his large hand over your stomach, he could feel every single kick, asking you questions as it happens. "why does this brat kick so much? tell him to stop." "kuna, hes a baby..." "i do not care, he needs to learn to stop being so restless."

౨ৎ your delivery will send him into internal panic. he demands that he is in the room with you, holding your hand. but your large group of handmaidens by your side strongly disagree, reccomending that he let you be. but making sure you were okay was his top priority, so he stayed in the large bedroom where you gave birth. your head and body would be covered in towels, your hands tightly cuffing your handmaidens. it was extremely painful, as your screams could be heard from afar. but with the way sukuna had rubbed his thumb on your cheek, it made you feel slightly better. after you, he would be the first to hold your child, demanding so himself.

౨ৎ he wants a boy, 100%. he is hoping for a strong heir that can add onto his legacy, even though it isnt entirely necessary. if he ends up having a son, he will teach him the ways of manhood. teaching him how to hunt his own humans, how to properly court a lady (in his mind), and how to become as strong as him someday. and most of all, how to take care of his mother. he will not tolerate any disrespect towards you. he will call his son names like 'ryomen 2.0', or 'annoying rat'.

౨ৎ but if he gets a girl? he will be upset when he finds out. but he will come around to love her after quite a while. will go from calling her a nuisance, to hosting mini tea parties with her stuffed animals which were gifted by her auntie handmaidens, squeezing himself into a small chair at a small dining table with fake tea and pastries. he will truly care for his daughter, and will become extremely overprotective over her. he will call her 'little princess', or 'spoiled brat'.

౨ৎ enjoys watching you tend to your children. he secretly enjoyed the fact that he could call you 'the mother of his children'. being domestic with you is something he had never imagined in his life, but here he was, burping your small newborn over his shoulder with one hand. he likes to see the way your eyes light up when your child walks for the first time, or when they say their first words. he doesnt think it is important, but since its you, he doesnt say anything. "woman, what are you freaking out over?" "come quick! he just said 'papa'!" "i knew it, thats my child alright."

౨ৎ but he will absolutely refuse to change the babys diapers. do not ever ask him to do that, he will very rudely decline. bu dont worry. like everything else, he will come around to do so.

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[mochinomnoms]

say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think. 

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose. 

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible. 

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge. 

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap. 

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger. 

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim. 

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen. 

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day. 

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on. 

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up. 

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room. 

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine. 

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders. 

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair. 

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him. 

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him. 

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen. 

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together. 

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays. 

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again. 

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him. 

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed. 

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers. 

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.  

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern. 

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present. 

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice. 

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings. 

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt. 

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake. 

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up. 

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile. 

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace. 

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex. 

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?”  “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages. 

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof. 

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole. 

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~” 

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick. 

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths. 

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin. 

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes. 

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking. 

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth. 

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock. 

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off. 

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft. 

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly. 

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver. 

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure. 

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip. 

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it. 

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.” 

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole. 

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him. 

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock. 

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him. 

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all. 

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy. 

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him. 

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion. 

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him. 

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees. 

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play. 

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.  

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips. 

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries. 

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear. 

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined. 

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak. 

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time. 

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms. 

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy. 

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss. 

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did. 

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes. 

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on. 

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest. 

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy. 

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back. 

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm. 

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses. 

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?” 

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes. 

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well. 

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get. 

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you. 

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered. 

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses, 

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine. 

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you. 

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world. 

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you. 

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[aureatelys]

hotch being super touchy with bau!reader during a night out with the team and like cannot wait until they’re home or something ? (idk if this helps!!)

citrus

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 1.5k c.w.: fluff!! suggestive content, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, needy touchy hotch <3

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i realize now while typing this that you may have been asking for horny hotch but instead i give you needy hotch with a touch of horny. not my best work but i hope you like it <33

You first start to suspect something’s wrong when Hotch sits next to you on the jet.

Not that Hotch sitting next to you was an abnormal occurrence, however ever since you two came clean about your relationship with the rest of the team, both of you made the effort to maintain as professional as possible. Which meant not sharing hotel rooms even though you’re sure the budget manager wouldn’t complain, no favoritism, and no PDA.

The no PDA rule was particularly difficult for you because, how could you not touch him?

The team had just finished up a kidnapping case in Florida. Nearly two weeks of suffocating in the humidity and dealing with swarms of mosquitos every time you stepped outside of the precinct. The relief from being in a familiar setting and the working AC is tangible when you plop down into a window seat facing the front of the cabin.

When you notice Hotch approaching you and taking the seat next to yours, you barely hide the surprise on your face. Hotch just merely raises an eyebrow at you before he jumps into debriefing.

Afterwards, when everyone has either fallen asleep or victim to playing chess with Spencer, Hotch knocks his knee against yours.

You look up from your book, a question forming on the tip of your tongue, when you notice Hotch hunched over his files and eyebrows creased in concentration.

It must have been an accident, you think. Except he does it again.

“You okay?” you ask, placing your bookmark and setting your book aside. It’s not like you were paying attention anyway, having had read the page at least two times by now.

“Fine,” he mutters, not unkindly, before scribbling something at the bottom of a file and moving onto the next one.

The past two weeks had been difficult for everyone, and the week before wasn’t any easier. You assume that Hotch was just itching to go back to your shared apartment to check on Jack before passing out in your bed.

And then he bumps against your knee again.

You don’t say anything this time, instead picking up your book and hitting your knee back against his. You just barely catch the corners of his mouth quirking up.

-

You could’ve sworn Hotch was going to decline tagging along with you when you decided to go out to O’Keefe’s with the rest of the team as soon as you landed. You were even expecting a glare, silently telling you that everyone needs to go home to get some rest and that he is driving you two back to the apartment whether you like it or not.

You start to think Hotch is really up to something now when he shrugs and agrees to tag along with you, promising just one drink.

And then, Hotch rests his arm on the console while driving, his hand worryingly close to your thigh despite Reid and JJ sitting in the backseat. Then, he’s placing a large hand on the small of your back when you’re walking into the bar, causing a shiver to run up your spine despite the warm evening air. Then, he sidles up next to you in the booth, thighs pressing against each other and his wide shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a lot of touching, which you’re clearly fine with, but touching from Hotch, at work, several times in the span of 30 minutes?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, having to lean in to be heard over the music even with his good ear.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you over his drink. “I told you, I’m fine.”

And it’s like you’re able to see the idea form in his head, having spent so much time with him on and off the clock that you’ve luckily gotten better at reading him.

You still nearly jump out of your seat when Aaron places his warm hand on your thigh, underneath the table where nobody else was able to see.

You’ve gotten used to how touchy Aaron can be behind closed doors. At home, he’s constantly touching you—an arm around your waist, a finger tracing the curve of your jaw, or a kiss pressed at the crown of your head.

But this? A hand on your thigh at a bar in front of your coworkers?

You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your pants, annoyingly close to where you really want him the most. Is that what this is about?

“You two lovebirds alright over there?” Emily calls from the other side of the table, looking spectacularly sober despite you witnessing her downing shot after shot.

The sudden weight of 7 different pairs of eyes on you has you even more frazzled because Aaron’s hand only squeezes the flesh of your thigh while he glances at you casually, his free hand wrapped around an old-fashioned.

“Just talking about how I need another drink,” you say, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as strained to them as it does to you. And technically it is true as you shake your glass to emphasize the ice cubes clinking around with no fruity drink accompanying it.

When you notice Garcia’s mouth open to volunteer to come with you, you scramble up out of the booth, glad that you chose the outside spot, and weave your way through the crowd to the bar. You try to ignore the way the right side of your body suddenly feels colder without Hotch’s body pressed up against yours.

You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The only thing keeping you from spinning around to maybe unethically flash your badge is the familiar weight of Hotch’s palm pressed against your hip and the citrusy smell of whiskey on his breath against your ear.

A giggle bubbles out of you, instinctively leaning back against his chest. You’re secretly glad that he left his suit jacket in the car, leaving you to ogle the way the crisp white dress shirt stretches over his shoulders. “Seriously, what is with you today?”

His lips ghost over your ear, the low tone of his voice making your knees weak. “I’m not allowed to touch my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that.

You lean even harder into him, one of your hands coming down to grab at his toned forearm as you reach for your finished drink. “Of course you can. I just can’t remember the last time you’ve been this touchy in front of everyone, or ever really.”

“I don’t hear any complaints.”

“I might start if you don’t kiss me.” And it’s mostly to just poke fun at him because Hotch hasn’t even held hands with you in front of the team, much less kiss you in a crowded bar with them undoubtedly watching and whispering amongst themselves.

You’re expecting Hotch to huff a laugh against your ear, letting go and stepping away from you. Maybe even him holding your hand while he leads you through the dance floor and back to your booth to humor you.

You don’t expect Hotch’s free hand to come up and cradle your chin, tilting your face towards his almost uncomfortably to press his lips against yours. It’s soft, chaste even, but the fact that he’s kissing you in front of your colleagues and strangers, in a crowded bar with the loud music nearly thrumming through your veins, makes you feel hot all over.

His arm tightens around you, spinning you around until you’re facing him, and he swallows the gasp you unintentionally let out as he deepens the kiss, your mouth instinctively parting. You’ve been dating for months but kissing him still feels like that very first time in his office, the hard edge of his desk digging into your hip and the glow of the sunset highlighting the clear affection in his eyes.

When you pull back, you notice a pink tinge high on his cheeks and the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as if chasing the taste of your fruity cocktail. “What was that for?”

“Just letting you know that I can’t wait to take you home,” he says, pulling you until the entire line of your body is pressed against his. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on his chest and you’re not sure if you can feel the bass line for the song playing or the thudding of his heart.

His hands start trailing down to your ass and you seriously wonder how touchier he can get.

But, like you realized earlier, it’s been weeks since you’ve had alone time with Hotch. So, you untangle yourself from him despite his protests and slip your hand in his pocket to retrieve the car keys. You grin when it’s Hotch’s turn to jump.

“I’ll meet you at the car?”

“I already said bye to them for us, let’s go.”

And then he’s pulling you towards the exit with his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist. You barely have the chance to peer over the moving crowd to see the rest of your team waving at you, wearing shit-eating grins.