#good that I don't really care much about it

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[whorelaud]

bsf!rafe slips it in during a gathering  warnings smut with slight plot, unprotected p in v, public sex, creampies, dirty talk, teasing, reader lowk ovulating 

The college reunion wasn't something you were fond of attending; hence, when Rafe offered to tag along, your fear and anxiety strived less evident on your expression. It’s something you’ve been avoiding, and while not showing up sounded great, you felt obligated to, as many of your classmates insisted on seeing you, having not done so since your graduation. 

It wasn’t a party, nor a typical hangout. Things deemed chaotic, but not crazy enough to cause discomfort. Drinks were everywhere, mostly to get rid of any unnecessary tension, however, Rafe chose to be far away from the booze aisle, as he needed to drive back. That didn't stop him from having fun, though. 

He took a corner on one of the armchairs, patting his lap as an invitation upon spotting you awkwardly shuffling around for a seat. Of course, you hesitated to acknowledge the gesture, eyeing him reluctantly before accepting. 

You weren't naive, you noticed the way his breath heaved every time you’d giggle while conversing, or shuffled around to fix your position. Rafe was tense for the entirety of the night, the bulge in his pants really not of much help, oblivious to the carefree act he was putting up. He was hard from you sitting in his lap, his own best friend, who he’s been dying to fuck and get a taste of, envious of every man who ever got close to touching you. 

The hardon in his pants had you wet to your core, brushing over your clothed cunt each time he’d press your hips down to adjust himself. It was on purpose, you knew Rafe, he was a sly bastard, cocky with everything he does. All the hookups he’d tell you about, and the endless one night stands that keep piling up. He was one experienced motherfucker, every girl in OuterBanks wanted a piece of him. 

Therefore, you were lucky to have him as your best friend, lucky enough for him to sneak his hand under your skirt, and work his fingers in gradual circles over your clit. You fought the moans bubbling in your throat, suppressing them as his digits slid down your folds, grunting when he pressed a finger to the thin material of your panties, immediately noticing the wet patch on it. 

No one noticed your flustered state, nor did you care if they did. Lust blurred your vision, mind going hazy as your hips stuttered down against Rafe’s crotch. It felt so fucking good, despite not having any alcohol in your system, you felt drunk off the sensation of his cock making fraction with your pussy. And Rafe? Yeah, he wasn't no saint either. 

Managing to free himself from his boxers was quite the struggle, though disregarded by others, as one of your friends continued on with the conversation you were having. He pushed your panties to the side, keeping them firm and in place as he lined his dick with your slick folds, wet with your arousal. 

A gasp threatens to leave your lips when he leisurely inserts his cock inside, tip coating with your juices. He used the hand around your waist to press you down, letting your pussy swallow almost all his length. Now, that was an easy task, but, next came the part where he had to move; create a fraction, which fell quite difficult surrounded by all these people. 

That didn't stop you, though, nor Rafe. You grinded down on his cock, plastering a tight-lipped smile for the girl speaking as you pretended to listen, well aware it entered one ear, then flew past the other. Rafe squeezed the skin around your waist, encouraging you to keep moving. His breath fanned over the exposed skin near your neck, lips mere inches away from your ear. You could stop and continue this somewhere else, but that means confronting Rafe, and interrupting whatever this was; which practically felt illegal to do. 

“Why don't you answer her?” Rafe whispered, lips ghosting over your ear. “C’mon baby, she’s asking you a question.” 

“I don't–” you almost yelp as he slams into you, “I don't work as of now, I’m searching– I’m searching for a job, though.” 

The girl nods with a smile, feigning ignorance to your fucked state. You were practically drooling over how Rafe’s throbbing cock thrusts inside you, sending you into a spiral as the tip continuously kissed your cervix. Your eyes forced shut for a moment, a ragged sigh exiting your lips, far too gone to process your surroundings. Fuck it, it’s not like you were going to see them after this anyway. 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, reaching his climax with everytime he rolled his hips up. “Y’gonna let me fill your pathetic lil’ pussy up, hmm?” 

You hummed, mostly to him, containing the whines at the tip of your throat. Rafe’s strokes grew fast and sloppy, with your pussy now drenched in your arousal, welcoming every thrust he slammed inside you. Your hole is stuffed with his cock, clenching around him when your orgasm made its approach.  

Your vision went blank as you came undone, soon followed with a thrust from Rafe before he emptied his load inside your cunt, painting your walls white with his sperm. The warmness filling your hole made you relax in his arms, leisurely fluttering your eyes open, suddenly faced with the reality of your presence. 

Right, you were still encircled by people. Rafe slowly pulls out his cock, pussy lips dripping with his come, as it got buried deep inside you. His teeth graze the skin behind your ear, tone teasing as he mutters his next sentence. 

“Maybe I should come with often.” 

And if you spent the rest of the evening loaded with Rafe’s come, no one were to find out, nor acknowledge said fact. 

a/n prepare to be sick of me i love bsf!rafe

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[yandere-wishes]

which batboy does mittens have a crush on?

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Oh, good question!! @fancyfeathers mentioned that Mittens should probably be the eldest of Selina's sidekicks. And is closest in age to Dick Grayson. Which opens up one of my fav tropes of "Childhood friends to lovers" (but make it yancore!!!)

He'd been so sweet once, little boy wonder swinging along the skyline. Pretty like a sunset, decked out in reds and yellows. You'd watch him from your perch atop the scrappers. Arms nervously ringing around a bagged-up bundle of jewels. Your mentor would scuff making comments about fruitless morals and pretty boys.

Kittens chase robins. It's the way the world goes around, just like how black cats chase bats.

You sneak behind him, punching on his back and rolling him around. Robin kicks your ribs out of instinct, aims for your stomach next with his knee. He only stops when his masked eyes meet yours, when he sees the sweet playful smile adorning your lips. This is a game...

It's always been a game.

At least to you...

You'd only learn, years later, that it had always been far too real to Dick.

Your siblings are better than you at the whole "cat burglar" thing. They creep through the shadows and glide through half-open windows. They steal rubies and diamonds and pearls. They leave little scratch marks and lipstick stains on the safes they rob. They spend the nights being chased by bats and birds. And then when the sun threatens to shine once more they steal kisses and love bites.

You'd always preferred the day. The monotone ease found only under the sun's gentle rays. You prefer to give instead of take, your youngest sister always said it was Nightwings fault for that. That the first robin had rubbed off too much on you.

You still keep an old photo of Dick in your apartment, a silly little photo of two kids, smiling with blood between their teeth and haphazard empty gums. Dick's nose is bleeding, you have a black eye.

You can't quite remember who took the photo.

Bruce or Selina.

It doesn't really matter.

Some things are far too deep-rooted. Crystallized in blood. You've long hung up your mask, and handed in your whip. You've renounced the ways of the cat, renounced the ways of a rogues. You spend your days inside a school, teaching the young of Gotham, watching how the trauma seeps in prematurely, coiling and embedding itself into the lady Gotham's children. Hurt them young so they learn to survive.

You feel so guilty...

It's hard to leave lineage rotting in its grave, hard to abandon and reject that which pumps through your veins. You still pick the locks, still, slip through shadows as if they were a second home, you're still more feline than human. More freak than normal.

Only this time you don't have your mentor or your sisters.

You don't have your claws or whip.

There's a security guard with a gun.

Pointed straight at you...

Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing. He'd been so sweet once. You're glad to see the saccharine hasn't washed off. The boy wonder stands in front of you, although you guess he isn't much of a boy anymore. His uniform is hard on your eyes, reality glitches, you see him dressed in his sunset colors. Reds and yellows, young and free. Dick offers you a sweet smile,

"Hey, it's been a while..."

"Yeah, it has."

Dick assures the security guard he'll handle you. Still, you don't miss the way his blue eyes burn holes into the other man's back. He opens the car door for you before getting behind the wheel. On the way, you try to reason with him. For old time's sake, you beg. "I really was just trying to get those kids some toys, but there's so many of them and the prices these days are-"

"I know," Dick says, his bright smile sends your heart a flutter. "It's alright, I'll take care of everything." You laugh leaning back, looking at his reflection through the mirror, that broken nose did end up healing nicely.

He doesn't take you to the station, instead he drives to his apartment. Deep down you knew he'd never hand you in, he couldn't, he'd spent his whole life watching that bat excuse the cat. He can't go against his training, he too can't abandon his heritage. He pulls you out of the car and into a tight embrace promising he'll keep you safe. And you hate how he feels all so utterly safe, how he smells like home and happiness. You hardly notice how hard he squeezes and how hungrily his lips hover above your pulse point.

Thus he spoke but you don't remember listening.

He spoke of finally having you again.

Of loving you again.

You only ever catch the odd word.

Utterly distracted by the delicate twinkle in his ocean eye.

It's hard to focus on the words when for the first time in a long long time you finally feel like your old self again.

High off nostalgia.

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Okay, so all this being said there is an alternative.

@darkpeppermint had another idea, since Mittens is so different from the rest of her family, then she may not even fall for a batboy at all and just marry a sweet golden retriever farm boy...

And yet, despite the sweet fairytale twist they tried to propose. My sick and twisted brain heard the words "golden" and "farm boy" and immediately thought of PROFESSOR CRANE...

Maybe poor little Mittens ends up getting manipulated by the charming professor, Crane. Maybe they meet one day when she's taking her class on a field trip to Gotham U and ends up bumping into Jonathan.

There's just something so familiar about him. So nostalgic, he reminds her of home, of her family, of her childhood friends...he almost feels safe.

Welp Fancy, it finally happened we've become co-parents again.

Our children's list is Kachina and Mittens so far 🤣🤣 Let's see who gets adopted next lol.

[ayukas]

12:34AM

hi... it's, um, haechan. i, uh... i couldn't sleep. i've been trying, but it's like the second i close my eyes, everything comes back. i know you won't pick up, won't even listen to this, but i just need to get everything off my chest. to help me forget, you know?

your scent... it's still all over my apartment. my sheets, my couch... it's everywhere. even after i washed everything, fuck, even deep-cleaned my entire apartment, i can still smell it. smell you. like it's burned into the walls or something. i hate it, but... at the same time, i kinda don't want it to go away. after all, it's the only part of you i have left.

01:17AM

do you remember how you used to gently trace over my moles? leaving a kiss on each and every one of them? you'd say it was your way of showing me how you loved every part of me. that even the smallest parts of me mattered. you told me my moles were attractive. you told me i was attractive.

so how could you spit it in my face and tell me you didn't find me attractive anymore? was it true? or were you just... trying to hurt me? because it fucking worked. i can't stop thinking about it. the scowl on your face when you told me i wasn't good enough for you.

02:03AM

i... i know i shouldn't keep calling. you're probably asleep, since my number isn't blocked yet. i just can't stop thinking about you. about... about us. about all the nights you'd show up here after work, completely drained. you wouldn't say much, just lie next to me, and i'd hold you until you fell asleep.

i thought... i thought that was love. i thought we had something real. but maybe it wasn't. maybe you were just holding on because you needed someone, and i just happened to be there.

03:22AM

i miss you. so... so much. i miss the way you'd laugh at my dumb jokes or the way you'd pull me in for a hug, even when you were pissed off at me. i miss your warmth. i miss... the way you used to look at me, like i was everything to you.

but maybe that was just all in my head. because if you really felt that way, if you really cared, you wouldn't have left.

04:11AM

...hi. this is the last one, i promise. i can just imagine the disgust on your face when you check your phone in the morning. 'm sorry. i know you want me to just go away and forget everything. but i can't. i can't just forget you. i can't.

i loved you. god, i loved you so fucking much. i loved every part of you, even the parts that hurt me. and i tried so hard to be someone you could love back.

but i guess it wasn't enough. i wasn't enough.

i hope you'll be happy. i really do. i won't reach out anymore, so you don't have to worry about that. i just... i needed to let everything out.

thank you for everything, my love. maybe in another life, when we're not so broken, you'll still want me. maybe that version of me will be enough. i'll hold onto that thought... even if it's just in the scent of your cologne.

notes this was inspired by my one and only @ddolbyong !!!!!! i love u sooo so much, thank u 4 encouraging me to write this and letting me use ur works as inspo!!!!!! #mixu4ever (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅) this was also of course, inspired by cologne by beabadoobee. MY GOATBADOOBEE!!!!!! any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated, thank u for reading! (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[mr-mercutio]

I remember once I was at a T-shaped intersection, crossing on the right side of the T from top down. About a second into walking into the street, y'know - after waiting for the lights to change and the walk signal to come on, this guy revs up and pulls into the intersection, ready to turn right. Already breaking the law of course, pulling right into the street before I was all the way across. And then he leans out of his window and starts screaming at me to hurry up and get across the street.

I didn't even have the opportunity to check for this fucker to see if he was going to let me cross. Put aside that I had right of way and had waited for the lights to change, he hadn't even BEEN at the intersection, just came zipping down at me.

I didn't feel terrified until after the whole thing was done. In the moment I was just so angry because how dare he, honestly? How dare he come so close to being able to just murder me with his fucking truck and then get mad at ME because I'm slowing him down by a few seconds?

I was so mad that I actually stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and looked him dead in the eyes. And I wish this was the part of the story where I could say he looked ashamed of himself, where I could think maybe he learned something that day that would change how he drove or treated people. Maybe he looked back at me and realized how much power he held over my life in that moment and mouthed "sorry" at me.

But no, he just got more angry and leaned on his horn and called me a faggot. I must have been the worst part of his day, the way he was acting.

So I just gave him the finger and resumed crossing the street, albeit at a snail's pace because I'm a petty little bitch when I'm mad. And as soon as there was any clearance behind me he went zooming off, still screaming at me. I could see another driver waiting at the intersection, one who had a red light still, look absolutely horrified. I think she felt more shame as a driver than this guy did.

And seeing her face was when I felt scared. When the reality dawned on me of how easily I could have been killed in that moment just because I was an inconvenience to an asshole. I slowed him down for an extra 20 seconds, and he treated me like absolute trash. He could have killed me so easily. The only power I had in that moment was to make his day just a little bit worse by extending the inconvenience a few more seconds. And I took that power gleefully in the moment, but I really shouldn't have. I should have just crossed the street because what if he did decide then to run me over? I would love to say that even this douchebag supreme wouldn't be that bad, but honestly? How could I know? If he was that willing to fly off the handle with zero provocation, I shouldn't have trusted that he wouldn't run me down for slowing down and giving him the finger. But taking the tiny bit of power I had in that moment felt really good and necessary in the heat of the moment.

I dunno, I don't have a good lesson here. I don't regret it in the slightest but I do also think it wasn't the safe thing to do. It wasn't worth the risk of dying in that moment.

Some people have no concept of the power they hold. This story is far and away not the only time I feel like I've come close to being killed by drivers who were stupid, angry, mean, or just plain not paying attention. I wish more people would remember that they're piloting a killing machine at high velocity and I'm just a little fleshbag out in the open air. I have to be so careful, and it makes me a bit bitter to watch the drivers who blithely zoom around and forget to stop or slow down or check for pedestrians like me.

Nothing exposes the inability of people to navigate power imbalances quite like the relationship between drivers and pedestrians.

For example, I just had a driver get screaming-at-me mad because I stopped walking at a slip lane to make sure he was going to stop. And like, buddy, I know I have the right of way, but if I assume you are going to stop and I guess wrong, I will literally die. Whereas if I wait to see if you're actually going to slow down, I am just delaying both of us by a couple of seconds. And that might have more to do with why I made the choice that I did than my being a stupid bitch who needs to learn the rules. Like, if you can't understand why the fact that you could effortlessly accidentally kill me (and likely face no consequences) means I am reticent to assume the best from you, maybe you just shouldn't have any power over anyone ever.

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune being his normal kind, helpful lovable self causes women like Illia, Terra, and others to fall for him

LAJA

Coco: And, welcome everyone to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Against Jaune Arc. My name is, Coco Adel, club chairwoman, and founder.

Coco: Now, since this is out first meeting we will each introduce ourselves, and tell everyone why you decided to become a member of the, LAJA. I'll go first...

Coco: I am a loud, and proud lesbian, I saw some guys, and I thought they were attractive, from as aesthetic perspective not anything romantic, or sexual. But, one day, I was trying on an outfit with my BunBun...

Ilia: Hold up! Your 'BunBun?'

Coco: Oh yeah, that's a nickname for my teammate, Velvet. She's a rabbit faunas.

Ilia: Ohh!

Terra: I like that.

Coco: Velvet isn't that good at fashion, but Jaune was there, he saw my outfit, and said no. Gave me some other clothes, and told me top try it on... and son of a bitch that was the greatest outfit I've ever worn!

Coco: After that, the two of us would go out, and do some fashion shows with each other, and some other people who needed a new wardrobe. It is fun, really fun hanging out with him. So, one day when we're having fun this random woman came up, and ask if, Jaune was single. And, Jaune was single... but, I said he wasn't... that I was his girlfriend...

Coco: I'm a hardcore lesbian! I never thought of dating a guy in my entire life! But, to keep some random floozie from, Jaune I said I was his girlfriend... I don't want to lose my fashion friend, my best male friend. And, I'm sad that I'm not... And, I really... I really want to be his girlfriend... So... yeah...

Terra: You fell because of his fashion sense? Makes sense, Jaune has superb taste in woman's fashion.

Coco: He did, I was looking at a wedding dress one day, and who is at the alter, Jaune freaking Arc...

Yang: Oh you got it bad!

Coco: Okay... You're turn.

Ilia: Okay... Hello everyone, my name is Ilia Amitola, I am a chameleon faunas, I can changed the colour of my skin. So, I was a former member of the, White Fang, I was a lesbian since I was in the, White Fang, and I hated humans on top of that. Then this stupid blond human just shows up, he flashes me that pearly smile of his. And, my body just changed to pink!

Coco: Like it did just now?

Ilia: Yes?! I just looked at him, and I thought how much I wanted to sleep with this guy! A guy, a human guy at that! It's just a crush, there's nothing more about it! So, I decided to learn things about him, I'd learn that one thing to make him the worst person I could possibly imagine!

Ilia: And, what I learned is that he is one of the nicest, sweetest guys I've ever met! He doesn't hate the faunas! He supports the, White Fang! To a point! He doesn't like the more radical side...

Yang: No one does.

Ilia: But, all I learned how a sweet caring a person he is! Then I saw him watch over some faunas kid one day, and the next thing I know, I'm thinking about having kids with him! This it total bullshit!

Coco: She's still blushing.

Emerald: It is a nice shade of pink.

Terra: Well... speaking of babies... My name is, Terra Cotta Arc...

Coco: Arc? Are you related to, Jaune?

Terra: In a way, I am married to a woman called, Saphron Cotta Arc. She is, Jaune's older sister, making, Jaune my brother-in-law. And, for a while I thought I was asexual, I was never interested in anyone. But, then I met my wife, and well eventually I married her. And, I'm happily married! But, then I met, Jaune, and if I met him before I met my wife, we probably would be married with three kids by now. Right now we only have the one though.

Coco: T-The one...?

Terra: I wanted a kid, so I asked, Jaune to... donate so I could have one. And, this is my son, Adrian~!

Yang: Oh gods he is so adorable~!

Ilia: Noooo... Don't do this to me, I've been trying to get rid of the baby craze!

Terra: And, well... I want another... maybe two... N-Next...!

Yang: Okay... glad I'm not the only one... Ahem! Hi! My name is, Yang Xiao Long, and I'm not really a lesbian, I always thought I was more of a bisexual. I always thought, woman, and men were attractive. And, when I came here to, Beacon the lesbian drive kicked into overdrive! I mean come on! There are so many hot woman here!

Coco: It's a buffet here!

Yang: And, my teammate is, Blake Belladonna! How many people didn't get a aroused , and want to smash that phat ass!

Ilia: Preach sister!

Yang: But then, Jaune Arc came around, and started acting like a big brother figure to my little sister! He looked after her, he comforted her when she was sad, he made her cookies! That was my job! But, all of a sudden big bro came in and stole my job! And, that's were all hell let loose!

Yang: So, I confronted him one day to leave her alone, to stop being her 'big brother,' that it was my job to do those things, because I am her big sister. But, he told me not to worry, since I was her big sister, and i would always be her big sister. So, he told me not to worry 'little sister.' He calmed me, 'little sister' rubbed the top of my head, and left. And, I swear to gods... I came when he patted my head!

Coco: Seriously?!

Terra: I'd buy that.

Yang: I don't like people touching my hair, but he just patted once, and he sent me so over the edge that, that's what happened?! I want, no need him to do it again!

Yang: I want my big brother to hold me in his arms, to comfort me when I'm sad, to run his fingers through my hair to calm me. And, above all I want him to spank my ass as he calls me his bitch, while I scream big bro as he takes me from behind! I used to imagine doing that to, Blake, and her phat ass! Now, I want, Jaune to be doing that to me!

Coco: (Whistles~!) You got it bad girl.

Terra: Really bad... Now tell us how you want him to do this, I need to know.

Yang: You're turn, Emerald.

Emerald: Okay... My name is Emerald Sustari. I am a lesbian, least I was... honestly I think I'm not that much of a lesbian, I was interested in my team leader. Her name is, Cinder Fall. She took me in, when no one else would, so I kinda fell for her from an emotional stand point. But, Cinder never saw me from that angle... she's more focused on how she can use me for her own gains. This often made me cry, that she didn't care about me... Then one day, Jaune found me when I was crying, and we just started talking. He became a shoulder I could cry on, someone I could go to for support, or just someone I could be around when I needed something.

Emerald: Then... then his mother came by, and he introduced me to her... And, I understood why, Jaune was such a nice, and caring person. And, I asked, Jaune's mom. Juniper if she would adopt me, so I could finally have the mother figure I always wanted.

Yang: What did she say?

Emerald: She said no.

Terra: What?! But, Juniper is such a lovely woman, why did she say no?

Emerald: Because she knows how much I love, Jaune, and that if I married him she would still become my mom. So, I get the best of both worlds. A mom, and the man I love...

Terra: Oh...

Yang: Now that's a good deal right there...

Coco: Alright... now that everyone has been introduced, we shall now begin the first meeting with the, LAJA. Does anyone have an items they wish to bring to the table.

Ilia: Yeah, I have one... We're calling ourselves the, Lesbians Against, Jaune Arc. But, how are we against, Jaune? I mean... we all want to sleep with the guy... that doesn't sound so 'against' now does it?

Coco: Uhh... cause I thought everyone would be upset, Jaune turned us straight. So, we would be against him, because of that.

Ilia: That makes sense, but in reality... we want to fuck him...

Yang: Yeah, we all want to sleep with the guy to one degree, or the other.

Terra: So how are we against the guy?

Coco: It sounded nice...?

Emerald: I vote we rename ourselves to the, Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc! Where are new mandate is to help each other sleep with, Jaune to some degree. All those in favour say aye.

Ilia: Aye!

Yang: Hell to the aye!

Terra: Aye~!

Coco: Aye!

Coco: Okay, in that case I welcome you to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc. First order of business: Who gets to fuck, Jaune first.

Yang: I move, Terra goes last, she's already slept with him, and had his child.

Terra: What?!

Ilia: I agree.

Emerald: Agree.

Coco: The ayes have it; Terra only gets to sleep with, Jaune after the rest of us do.

Terra: ...

Terra: Okay, that's fair...

[whereserpentswalk]

Thinking about how well Worm handles disability, especially compared to most other things in its genre. The way lifelong injuries are treated as a normal part of being a cape. The fact that Taylor is blind for awhile and it's not treated as a tragedy, and how when it's healed by scapegoat it's not treated as some sort of redemptive miracle, but just a thing that happened. Defiant's wounds still being something that effects him even though he has tinker magitech. Kid Wind having adhd and being helped by meds but then having to go off them due to side effects. Taylor seeing paralysis as a fate worse then death being seen as a her thing and not an objective fact (and probably being from trauma during the leviathan fight). Genesis's disability being something the people around her care about a lot more then her. Labyrinth and Bitch both being basically neurodivergent from their powers (labyrinth being essentially high support needs, and Bitch being essentially low support needs) with both being able to live fulfilling lives with people who care about them (also that scene with someone trying to baby talk Bitch near the end really hit home for me).

Also, Dragon, despite not being literally disabled is a very good disability allegory. People who don't know she's a machine often think she's disabled. The way her father put so many constraints on her because he didn't trust her, because of what she was. The way so many human characters see her right to live as something up for debate. The way Saint calls Defiant's attraction to her a fetish because he can only comprehend someone loving her as being some strange abnormality. The fact that teacher thinks it's ok to put constrains on her basically because he physically can. Defiant and her being intimate by testing how well they can feel sensations. Even just the way Saint talks about her not being able to truly feel emotion, but saying she tricked herself into doing so, is reminiscent of how some people talk about people with Cluster B disorders. And beyond that, the fact that all of the people who dehumanize her are framed as unquestionably in the wrong. Hell, she had a trigger event so even the eldritch horrors affirm her personhood.

I realize the discussion of Dragon was longer then I planned. But yeah, worm has much better disability rep then anything else I've seen in the superhero genre (probably because it's written by a disabled author).

Also I'm pretty sure you have to be neurodivergent to read a 1,672,617 word long internet book about the sociopolitical ramifications of superpowers. /j

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

You know, I think what I find most frustrating about this season of 911 is that, like, EVERYTHING we've been complaining about is such an easy fix.

Bobby and Athena having an ultimately aimless storyline rehashing their marriage issues without actually resolving them? Pick up that thread of Athena being thoroughly unimpressed with the people that are slipping out of the academy and give her a really juicy storyline of deciding if she can do more good on the streets or as an academy instructor training the young blood. You're gonna tell me Angela wouldn't act the HELL out of a woman who's been defined by her identity as a cop trying to decide if it's time to pass the torch and train the new generation? Also gives us a plethora of new side characters and storylines in her academy classes that by the nature of the beast don't have to be permanent or super fleshed out.

And then have her and Bobby navigating what they feel when he's still active duty and throwing himself on the front lines when she's stepped back. Is she jealous? Does she worry about him more or less? Is HE jealous of her new role? Is he considering a similar role for himself now? Who does he start grooming to take over the 118. Is Hen the natural choice or is Buck ready? How does that make THEM feel?

Oh, Madney have another accidental pregnancy (dumb as fuck, they could've made it so much more dramatic without it being stupid if they'd just said Chim had gotten snipped after they reunited and it failed. Drama without including the very real fact that it is highly irresponsible of them to even risk pregnancy when her ppd got THAT bad.)? Actually explore how they be careful and cautious without going into it with the mindset that Maddie is broken. Is she AFRAID of the joy and ease she's experiencing, waiting for the other shoe to drop? Is Chim struggling with striking a balance between being OVERprotective and missing the red flags entirely like last time? How do the changes in their relationships with their parents come into play? Hell, let's get spicy and have Chim maybe express a desire to have his children be more connected to his culture and how a biracial family would really explore that.

Hen and Karen are shoehorned into a palatable portrayal of divine motherhood for all their scenes? Okay, fine, but shake it up. Give Karen a promotion opportunity that would require them to move, or for her to be home less just when Mara's finally settling in. How do they deal with that? Does Hen want to start climbing the ladder (heh) in the LAFD? What if she's NOT the pick Bobby has in mind for replacing him? Does she fight for it, or think about going somewhere else?

Buck is once again in the position he ALWAYS ends up in, alone and abandoned by everyone he thought he could count on as permanent, heartbroken at once again watching a relationship slip through his fingers? This one's the easiest. Make him fucking follow through on the realization he supposedly had in his coma dream. He's enough. His life is worth something, and he is the one who decides what happens in his life. He's all alone? Fine, then have him make the decision to fight for another chance with Tommy or walk away from it permanently BY HIMSELF. No friends telling him what's best for him. No well-meaning platitudes that the universe will send him someone special. Just him having a goddamn Ryan Gosling/Rachel McAdams scene all by himself. What does he want? It's not that simple.... WHAT DOES HE WANT? And then fucking go for it.

Eddie is three post traumatic stress disorders in a trenchcoat pretending to be a functional human being? I mean, what else is new? But also, like...this one is also easy. Make him address it. Preferably with intense therapy, but I'd even accept him doing it by himself. Make him confront the fact that him doing what he thinks he has to has fucked up his life and his relationships in every way possible. Examine how much he turned out like his father despite clearly wanting NOT to. Accept that he loved Shannon very much, but they were doomed from the start because he couldn't let go of his fears of what would happen if he wasn't "the provider" and so when Shannon's own issues also came into play, the center couldn't hold. Fix his damn relationship with his son.

And, of course, against the backdrop of all of this is the serial killer storyline. Sure, let's have fun with it. My pet theory is that they are faking all of us the fuck out with the killer going after Maddie and Buck is either going to date the serial killer (or an accomplice) on a rebound and get kidnapped himself, or this is all tied into that black book storyline. Spend a few episodes setting all the good, juicy, emotional character stories we've been BEGGING for up, with a few fun call stories for flavor, and then knock the lead up to the finale out of the park with our firefam coming together to save the kidnapee (and yes, I'm a shipper at heart, so fuck it, let's have Chim call our favorite hot pilot in for transport services again, for a BuckTommy reunion in the back half...even better if Buclk's the kidnapping victim, cause then it's not even a favor, it's Tommy riding to the rescue).

Hell. I'll even throw in a fucking Brad explanation and have him be involved in the black book and that's why he's been so unstable and angry and refusing to let Bobby disappear.

Just. There's so much potential being left on the ground to rot. They could still carve out something amazing. It would be EASY. It's all right there. Even the most bloodless, half assed attempt at some of this could be turned into something awesome by this cast.

It's just frustrating.

(ETA, I don't think it's irresponsible of Maddie to ever get pregnant again or want more kids, I think it was irresponsible of them to leave themselves in a position where ACCIDENTAL pregnancy was a risk. No, ppd doesn't mean you're broken or shouldn't have kids, but Maddie's experience looked way more like post partum psychosis)

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and his... "Quirks"

Everyone is a lil weird. Logan is no exception

Some nsfw headcanons below the cut, it gets weird yall. some are tame. the rest are questionable. You're gonna ask me why i was thinking about it. you don't want to know

he CANNOT sit farthest away from the door. he has to be between the door and you. yknow in case of threats

feel like he would hate microwaves. idk why, i think he would extremely distrust the idea of food being heat up by radiation (Even if it wouldn't affect him?). he cooks everything by hand.

Don't let him catch you heating your food by microwave. He'll get pissy. then he'll make your food by scratch

uses phrases that were popular like 100+ years ago that no one knows. you've had to google some of them to figure out what the hell he was talking about

he taps his fingers alot. against a table, his leg, on you. it's an anxious thing

he doesn't laugh much but when he does it's loud, hes the epitomy of the word "guffaws" bc he's so loud. most of the time when you hear him "laugh" its a quiet chuckle. it's quite joyous to hear Logan across the mansion laughing

logan, as much as he acts like a wild man, is fairly neat. like, weirdly neat about his stuff. well- stuff he cares about. his jacket, his cigars, beer, maybe a few things you gave him. he doesn't need much.

this one isn't so weird, more cute- but he loves when you pet his head. only when it's just you two though

his nails grow faster than an avg person. He constantly has to clip them. BUT he does at least make sure to clean them up

i should add that logans is obv known for calling everyone bub, and gives nicknames to everyone

(he'll call you every petname in the book)

has to have his bed made in the mornings. he gets weirdly cranky if he or you don't make the bed and it's messy when going to bed that night (the man leaves his dirty laundry all over the room but doesn't like his bed not being made???)(nesting...)

hates the smell of incense (too strong) but he doesn't mind a few of the vanilla smelling candles. or the outdoorsy type ones

def will pick up new hobbies at random and then drop them (ahem i do that to)

doesn't finish his beer. he'll have a little left and go open a new one anyway

he acts like he's so gruff but he's actually like so polite about things when in someones house/the mansion. it takes you aback how nice he'll be. (x2 logan was just a bit stress don't worry about him raiding bobbys parents fridge)

ill add his fear of flying in here too

honestly he probably just doesn't like heights in general. he'll do it, go in tall buildings, planes, all of that (as well as we all seen) but don't catch him sightseeing out of the 70th floor of the skyscraper yall are in

he probably likes to wear all those layers because he doesnt let his hair grow out like he could. have you seen how much hair he can get? he keeps himself trimmed for you (if you want to call it that). the layers protects from the cold he gets from not being a hairy beast (let him be hairy)

oral fixation... i'll put this in nsfw

this isn't really weird...but he's able to sit in silence for a long time. just watching the view (you)

hes not an early bird. he'll get pissy if you are, because he wants you in bed with him. (people gotta work logan...)

leaves a clean plate of food. he doesnt like waste.

likes to grab you. hes gotta be holding onto you. even if he's single he's gotta be doing something (smoking, tapping his foot, leaning on someone), when he's with you though, you're his grounding.

NSFW

will drool during sex. he tries to control it. sometimes you feel too good though-

gets incredibly horny after missions. good luck.

also when after he goes into a burst of rage. good luck with that too

honestly he just has a high sex drive. he's a bit of a freak. it's not every time but rarely does he not get hard around you- at the scent of you

The moment you wake up in the morning, logan tells you "your period started" before you even have a chance to even fully wake up, only to realize that indeed you did start your period

he could smell it

dude is really intense about smelling

when it comes to you though he's REALLY intense about it. you know how dogs are when they smell you after you come home. logan is no different

can and WILL smell your armpits and feet if he gets the chance. it may gross you out but shits heavenly to him because thats where you smell the strongest. if you don't let him smell you he'll go for the laundry

your neck too

the man leaks so much pre-cum just at the thought of you. you'd think he came right there in his pants

does not care about you walking into him in the bathroom. he has no shame

honestly id think he'd like footjobs. not because he's got a feet thing- but like feet is where your strongest smells come from and if you...do that. his thang will smell like you

will eat you out and do you on your period btw. no shame

i don't think logan will say no to much in bed, except for the really disgusting ones, or the ones inviting other people in. he's not going to share you, or himself.

definitely has a thing about mounting you. he doesn't do it all the time but sometimes he'll lose himself and next thing you know is biting your neck and thrusting you doggy style, grunting and whining, and he won't stop till he's satisfied. the others have expressed worry over the deep teeth marks in your neck (Is he trying to maul you? - Scott)

doesn't like washing the bed sheets after you two do your thing. will complain but you have to bc you both are fairly active together in that department and you do not need your bedsheets become solid like rock. he just likes the scent :(

loves it when you lick his hands/knuckles

i think we all agree, the claws COME OUT when he cums. hes extremely careful about his hand placement bc of this.

back to oral fixation. if he doesn't have a cigar, toothpick, gum, his next best thing is you.

will SUCK on your skin. hard.

This is all i got for now, some probably really aren't a quirk but my brain was just typing what I could think of...might make more. Feel free to reblog and add your own!!

pain kink. a bad one. we all agreed on this i believe.

You know how animals have displays to attract mates? Logan is no different. When hes in the mood, hell puff himself out to you, do things he thinks youll like. I mean, i suppose avg males do this too but logan gets repetitive over it until you notice.

[floraltypes]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ through and through (🪽)

pairing - meret manon bannerman x fem!reader

synopsis - fellow fans reminisce about the moments when the love between Y/N and manon appeared to grow stronger and more vibrant. through a collection of tweet from passionate fans there is a glimpse into key on-camera relationship moments, along with a sneak peek at what was happening behind the scenes as their bond developed.

"You really want to get the flower?" Manon sat at your side as you were laid out on the covered seat, right arm extended while the tattoo artist began to place down the outline of a small, vibrant flower. "You don't have to."

"Is this a worried Meret?" You softly questioned, looking up at the girl with teasing eyes. "I want to," you reminded her, a soft glittering red gloss smeared and sparkling on the outer corner of your upper lip.

"It'll look really good on you," she grinned back, pinning some of her braids behind her head, allowing the girl to move her head whichever way with no fear of hair in her face. "You're such a flower girl after all."

"What does that mean?"

"They have such an undeniable beauty, easily entrapping those who care to look," she winked, her hand beginning to wind itself with your own.

"Those words sound a little familiar; are they from the song snippet you sent me the other day?" You questioned, tilting your head against the crinkle of plastic as a beam of sun came into view.

"Might have to call the song Flower Girl," she said with such smoothness of her tongue, eyes filled with confidence before concern as she caught you with your lip between your teeth, the buzzing beginning as the machine neared closer towards your skin.

The Ghanaian girl pouted out her own, red gloss catching it's on glimmer from the sunlight, and winded her thumb in tiny circles as it caressed the crease between your own and your pointer finger.

One camera stood prompted right at her face, another further off to the side, ready to catch a different angle of the possible reactions of the Ghanaian girl. She sat calm and collected, flipping through pages of her beloved journal as the cameras caught her eyes, lightening up and a downturning smile when they caught different portions.

"So, Manon," the voice behind the screen began to speak, deeper yet with a gentle tinge as they took in the girl hurriedly flipping further, brief scribbles of dark ink catching the camera's lens. "What is it like to look back at your journal now near the end of the competition? You've made it to the top ten."

"Uh," and an uncomfortable chuckle leaves the girl's glossed lips, eyes widening with clear shocked energy as she looks over towards the person. "Reading this back was shocking."

"What were your journal entries like back when you first arrived with the girls?"

"It's filled with a lot of nervous energy back then," she scrounges back tens of pages to get to the beginning moments, the first few pieces apart of the book. "I got this to help to personally document my experience through all this, so it definitely includes irrational and frantic thoughts." There is a brief pause, her eyes looking and reading throughout the pages as one braid falls to the front of her features. "But a lot of the girls were nice in the beginning; it did not start out with a lot of drama. I remember meeting Nayoung, who was fairly new and Daniela! She had made some joke that didn't go over really well but the fact that it didn't made it funnier. Soon enough, I was introduced to Y/N; she made it like a duty to make me comfortable."

"How so?"

"She helped me unpack and listened to me blab on about my life at home while she shared some stuff about her own and a bit about her fears of coming. Leaving everything behind is really frightening when you don't even know if it will be worth it in the end. I had thoughts like those sometimes, but I felt deep down that I would make it so it didn't come up much." Manon brushed her braid back, sticking a nail between the pages to bring about a random page. "There was a time with some drama; I remember being so nervous but she just held my hand and walked in as if nothing bothered her, keeping me along with her. I feel like since then, especially, we've just always been side by side."

"Would you say you're closest to Y/N here?"

"For sure, she is one of the ones I'm closest with; I can't even think about not debuting with her. It'd be so weird, like wrong."

"Come here!" Sophie whined, the liquid in her glass swishing about as she wobbled on the larger heels, rushing to pull Manon over to the chairs. "No more talking; it's time for drinking!"

"Sophie," Manon laughed, itching the side of her face as she looked her friend up and down. "Might want to start slowing down, Soph."

"Thanks, Mama Manzanita!" She laughed, one that was so short it turned into a whole laughing attack that she nearly dropped her glass; more than half of its contents completely spilled upon the floor at this point. "Get in the party mood, I am!" The music is blasting all about; Manon could barely hear her close conversation with you only minutes earlier. The place is filled with vibrant twentysomething year olds bumping to the pounding beats with different colors of streams of lights seeping through every which way.

"I can't leave Y/N," Manon tries to tell her friend, sitting her on the torn cushion to then take the glass and put it on the wobbly table in front. "I was not expecting it to be crazy tonight. I was thinking something more simple."

"But it's always Y/n this and Y/n that," Sophie grabs both of Manon's arms, almost pulling her on top of her. "What about me? I miss you; you're going to forget about me soon." She whines in her drunken stupor, clearly emotions heightened from the extra liquor.

"Never," Manon shakes her head, a smile now creeping up on her lips as she brushes away a few baby strands from the girl's face, makeup losing its vibrancy. "Y/n is a different kind of friend, like a different kind of feeling, Soph," she winks.

"Oh?" Sophie looks heavily perplexed before she lightly hits her cheek. "Oh! Trust me, I'm going to be the best wing woman ever," she whipped her head around, ponytail smacking Manon in the face. "Y/n! Y/n!" She repeatedly yells, "Get over here."

With uneasy hands, Sophie tries to halt herself up, stealing one of the drinks from the table with a quick gulp before basically falling into you.

"Go get by Manon on that bench right now!" Sophie demands, standing back away from you and pushing you off into the distance. "I need a good picture out of tonight, so Y/N, sit on the bench, good, and Manon, sit on the top behind her! Yes!" The photographer in her takes over the wasted part, guiding you two into the pose that could've taken over the internet, one where Manon slides her hands to lie on your shoulder with your face looking up and hers looking down.

The shot that the girl gets starts wobbled, but one out of the ten ends up clear, clear that either you two are true professionals or truly have a special extra feeling for one another.

"It's so crazy in here," you whisper, your eyes still keeping their steady gaze on the woman above you. "Sophie sure likes to party."

"I mean everyone does," Manon adds, her head moving ever so slightly down towards you, lips reaching closer and closer, and eyelashes filled with the darkened dye that is more noticeable now. It's like a rush of flames that wanders about your skin, leaving goosebumps in its trace. It's addicting the way you subtly try to lift your head ever so higher, a bit closer, just a bit more.

"Bro, everyone is asking about the other girls!" Dani turned towards Manon, shaking her head at the comments that she read off the screen, different ones asking about all the different members. Asking where they were, if they could join, if they were working on new music.

"Just appreciate us!" Manon pretended to fake crying, dragging her hands down her face in a ploy of being distressed. "We clearly serve more with the lives. People always want more."

"Some of the girls are out, and some are at home," Dani answered, dragging her finger down the phone to scroll through more comments. "We are going out soon to meet up with some of the others. That's why Manon has to hurry up with her hair already!"

"Chill, beauty takes time," Manon swished her ponytail in Dani's face, picking up the brush with a helping of gel to smooth back some hairs.

"Y/N is here, probably lounging around in her room," Dani replied, sitting back from where she once sat on her knees. "Who do you think pulls the most?" She read aloud.

"Easy," Manon scoffed.

"Me." They both spoke at the same time, heads quickly spinning towards one another with incredulous looks.

"Yeah, right, you can't even pull the g-" Manon clamped a hand over Dani's mouth, which Dani's own hand followed in tandem. "Anyways," she smiled once both were removed.

Manon let her eyes glide through the comments, now seeming to flood in quicker at their little stunt but she ignored the speculations and tried to keep to ones that would not get her yelled at by her manager or worse, Sophia. "I love watching the edits and seeing artwork; it's all so good. You guys are truly talented."

"Oh, that painting of Y/N and Manon goes crazy," Dani points out the comment mentioning a painting of the two; it had recently blown up all over their Twitter, watching different fan pages go crazy over the quality and seemingly the deeper feelings behind it.

"Don't get me started," Manon chirped up, leaning over excitedly as she panned the phone a little more towards her. It was seriously so gorgeous! They had me looking so valorent, and Y/n looked stunningly soft."

"And it was a huge ship post," Dani clarified, trying to keep her voice lower, yet instead, it seemed to come out at the same tone.

"Wait, really?" Manon whispered back, shock etched into her features, before imagining the piece again and the different details apart of it. "That's actually crazy how the eyekons can-"

"Be quiet!" Sophia swung the door open, shaking her head in the background as both girls fell silent. "You two should not be on live!"

"We're having fun, mom," Manon whined, placing her hands together in a pleading motion while looking back up to her. "Please!"

"Sophia is freaking out in our room," you popped your head into the bedroom. "She's going to pass out from fear."

"Baby y/n!" Daniela cheered, standing up to try and drag you into frame. "Everyone's asking how one of the youngest in the group is doing."

"I'm not even the youngest!" You quickly reminded everyone, crossing your arms at your waist in faux frustration. "This is silly."

"Ever since that clip of your pout went around, you're being called baby," Manon told you, allowing you to sit in the middle of them both, one leg practically over Manon's. "My baby y/n," the girl taunted, squeezing at your cheeks.

"Our baby!" Daniela corrected as she squeezed at your other one.

The phone was carefully angled to hit over your features instead of the girl who sat a few feet away tapping loudly at her own computer playing a new game on Roblox. The redhead completed such actions with a lot of spunk, music blasting from the headphones that wrapped around her ears, as this was her choice to spend her downtime. You just laughed occasionally as she muttered little things to herself, letting your eyes take a peek at her form before finding their way back to the screen.

"Yes, there will be new music before you know it!" You responded proudly, picking up the mascara that lay haphazardly at your desk. Other makeup products spilled about as you comfortably took your time getting ready. "I cannot say more; I am not Manon," you laughed, a fellow comment talking about how the said girl always seemed to be on the brim of revealing more than needed.

You screwed open the pink tube, lightly dragging the brush against your eyelashes, fingers clad with golden rings as the jewelry part of your outfit had already been assembled. Once you were finished, you used your unoccupied fingers to flick through the comments. "I do know Sophie; she is funny," you laughed in remembrance of hectic times with the sporadic woman. "Her and Meret make a good pair," you smiled lightly. The comments seemed to speed up slightly, questioning if that was a subtle move to ship the two women, an action you definitely were not trying to portray.

"No! No," you raised your hands up in a type of defense, frantically trying to clarify what you had previously meant. "It makes sense why they are good friends, that is all." Yet a comment from a certain 'Ynonlvr' caught your eye, writing, "See how she defended that one quick, possessive Y/n peaking through.". It was a comment you couldn't help but softly smile at, a memory of just how much this specific woman played a toll on your heart.

A specifically patterned knock was placed at the wood of your door, creeping you away from such thoughts but just enlarging the smile on your features. You scooted in closer to the camera, hands cupped around your lips as you leaned in. "You are all going to be excited to see who is here!" you turned towards the door, raising your voice "Come in! I am live."

"Hello gorgeous!" Manon swung the door open, dropping down to her knees so that she could lightly push you, fitting herself into the frame. "Oh no, I was not speaking to Y/N. I was obviously speaking to you, eyekons," the Ghanian girl spoke, winking towards the camera before throwing one arm around you to pull you close again. She turned her head to the side, leaning up to her ear so that you could feel the soft, hot breath that was let out before she spoke. "Let's go get going; I've got a surprise!"

"Oh?" You looked over at her, eyes glancing up and down in faux disbelief. "Really now?" Her eyes, though, were captivated by the comments, ones rolling in explaining that the scene was somewhat sensual and fulfilling their Ynon addiction.

"Well," she stood back up on her feet, outfit all glammed with a stunning pair of shoes to match. "I am glad you eyekons are feeling the outfit, as am I." She placed a hand on your head, looking down to make sure you got the unsaid message to hurry up. "I gotta go now, and soon will Y/N!" She placed her attention back fully onto you, removing the hand. "See you soon; love you through and through," she stepped out the door, peeking her head back in once again. "Hurry!"

You scrounged around with your makeup products, trying to put some back in their respective places while looking for the needed ones. As the brush bristles of your bigger brush danced against the pink pigments of your Fenty blush, you tried to answer some last remaining comments.

"A lot of people actually ask about that," you dragged the makeup brush against your skin. "The whole 'love you through and through' is like how people will say 'love you to the moon and back'; it is just a little more personal addition. Like throughout it all, we will be there; our love will be there."

katseye masterlist

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Final Round

Still Alive from Portal

vs.

I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME from In Stars and Time

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Note: The propaganda contains spoilers for In Stars and Time.

Still Alive:

One of the best and most classic credits songs in all of gaming. A true masterpiece, that an incredible number of people can quote off the top of their head.

Still Alive having such good lyrics in addition to being a great piece with the music alone is what makes it take the top space for me!

I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME:

siffrin.

1. It ties in recurring melodies from all throughout the soundtrack 2. It perfectly sets the mood for the scene and feels climactic 3. I cannot explain how much this song emotionally impacts you if you've played the game 4. It's just such a good song 5. Siffrin

only song in the soundtrack with an all caps title. the intended emotion is gained from sobbing shouting that fucker out

has motifs from all over the game including the title theme AND game over theme

a little harder to convey the emotion without the context of the game but it still does good

'I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME' is for when Siffrin is on his last legs (both physically and mentally)- he doesn't want his (found) family to leave him behind. He doesn't want to be alone, especially when he doesn't have a place TO call home anymore. His home is (technically) gone, along with all of his memories of it. And he actually found a family (found family :D) with the group he joined to save the country. He doesn't want them to leave- he doesn't want them to forget him- and he doesn't want to forget THEM. So when Siffrin gets to his last loop in Act 5, hearing the Head Housemaiden remind him that Everyone Will Be Going Their Separate Ways Since The Country Is Saved Now, he snaps, and before the resulting 'fight' he thinks "I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME." The name of the song!!! During the fight 'I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME' plays in, there's actually an option for Siffrin to hurt himself instead of his friends/family, the '(Don't attack)' 'craft' with the description "Can't hurt them. Attack the only person left." and that really shows how much he cares about them, to have the option of hurting himself because he doesn't want to hurt the people he loves. (You can, in fact, attack them, but the option to Not attack them is very present and will progress the fight/story as well.) I would explain more but I don't want to explain any more than necessary. I don't want to explain EVERYTHING and spoil the whole game for people >w<

[gangstalkerbarbie]

I think this is easily explained: they surround themselves with other internet artists for support, and as a community artists on the internet idolise like, the furries among them, because the furries have money, a communitarian ethos and knowledge of what they like, and generally as artists themselves they tend to appeal the most to the furry hand of the market.

Also they're often disabled, they usually understand what that's like from a labour rights pov, and many of these furries who used to be starving subsistence artists go on to have remote tech jobs with which they can effectively afford to support their old communities and maintain artists like Renaissance nobility. So there's a kind of cross pollination between producers and consumers of art that isn't there on other art scenes, actually a quite considerate one - considerate, but artistically quite conservative. You can watch tastes change, but they change rather slowly.

I think this is what leads to this clean and pressed but sterile art style as a norm — people who buy art or who make the most frequently bought art have the luxury of telling everyone else how to do it, and when they get really good at it of course people want to know their secrets. And of course they want to help, they want other people to be good at the hobby they like (just as a self respecting patissier would never shit on someone else's cake, because holy fuck, two cakes).

But here we run into how again, "good" in art online has a tendency to mean "marketable to the furry autistic trans women with the money and desire to buy art", who themselves are often artists who moulded their style to be cool and marketable based on input from other artists who... and so on.

Also a good number of people are too shy to post their beginning art online in front of general audiences, but they will one way or another find themselves drawing furry porn to learn the fundamentals on the ground, for a few reasons but most importantly because furries will spam like anything (again, as an expression of that communitarian ethos - the most supportive people on my own artistic journey have been furries, I consider myself sort of furry lite, etc).

Furry porn as a genre doesn't so much care about fluidity of expression or joie de vivre as it cares about ... whatever the audience cares about. You know? Feet, ass and titties rendered in fantastic, crisp, comicbooklike, maybe not necessarily detailed but extremely readable glory. Shark penis. Snake penis. Tigertaur being milked with industrial machinery. Dragon in loving congress with automobile.

You can oftentimes tell, among people with this super cleanly rendered kind of marketable art style, who draws porn and what porn it is and who was just In These Circles at formative times. Bara artists sometimes draw muscles and proportions in a very exaggerated way in their personal art without necessarily wanting to, for example, because that's often still the only way they know how, and the only way they're confident with. Foot guys give their stacked fox girls very detailed paw pads but often haven't learned to do eyes more than passably. And so on, and so forth.

It doesn't have to be good or even artistically satisfying to the artist — if it's marketable even remotely, someone will pay a very reasonable amount of delicious, green, fungible lucre for it, which is great for people who don't want to starve, but can be a precarious place to begin to grow in a new direction from. Once you're "in", you have to have both the luxury and the bandwidth to actively try to change how you do things, and under these conditions new artists see a lot of people earning money for drawing a certain way.

This is also why the most painterly high fantasy type styles tend to belong either to people who went to school for art or to people who had, um, /other/ formative influences, like fantasy illustrators, their own hippie mothers, etcetera.

nothing sadder to me than when an online artist posts a side by side of the same picture from 5 years ago / redrawn this year, and the first one is fluid and energetic and full of character, and the second one is flat and static and clean to the point of sterility