#i can't remember if they have a tumblr or not

[azzandra]

Aw, man, can't believe it's been two years since I wrote that.

When I reblogged and added my little commentary, I actually hadn't anticipated my comment to be reblogged by more than a couple of mutuals or be seen outside of my followers. I was just sharing a term that popped up in my head as a joke.

If I knew this glib comment I dashed off one morning without much thought was going to breach containment and take on a life of its own, I probably would have added a few disclaimers.

Since then, I've seen some people miss the point about what I was talking about in a few huge ways, so I'll clarify now a few points:

I have nothing against the cockroach wife dude.

I don't know if that story is true or not (there are some weird people out in the world, so I won't dismiss it out of hand, but like. come on) and I sincerely do not care that his spankbank was exclusively taken up by a cockroach woman. The part of his tale that we should take as a parable is where he solely and without being forced by anyone else hinged his entire sexuality around an imaginary construct that then made him incapable of being attracted to real human women. Remember, his story starts with him complaining that he can't get it up with his human girlfriend without picturing her as a huge cockroach. He did that. Nobody forced him to develop this condition. This is a lesson for the rest of us.

people going 'I think they're both pretty!' like that's the centrist silver bullet to this phenomenon.

Listen, yeah. I agree. Both versions are meant to be attractive, just to wildly different demographics. You know who doesn't agree? The guys I'm talking about.

The dudes I am referencing do NOT think both characters are attractive to different people. They think the original is attractive to NOBODY, and everyone else in the world is just PRETENDING that the first one is attractive in any way, and they're convinced everyone else also objectively knows the original art is ugly but there's a conspiracy to subject poor defenseless heterosexual men to pictures of butt-ugly women in order to brainwash them or something.

The guys afflicted with Cockroach Wife Syndrome are on some gamerbro qanon shit where their perception of reality is slanted to a comical degree, but they think their experiences are objective and unbiased, and they're making it everyone else's problem.

people smugly going 'OP has an anime girl in their icon' like that's some sort of gotcha

Yeah, man, I'm not opposed to anime girls. I'm not even opposed to hentai, or blender porn, or masturbation. I think everyone deserves to masturbate if they want to, and the way the world is going, we all probably deserve to masturbate a lot more (porn addiction isn't a real thing, my dudes). I accept that some people are going to jerk it to stuff that I don't find attractive, and maybe consider repulsive, and that's just going to be a fact of life from here unto eternity. We all need to come to terms to that.

But the Cockroach Wife Syndrome sufferers do NOT want to accept it. They want the entire world to have only one porn preference that aligns neatly to their own, and also they want all fictional depictions of women everywhere to adhere precisely to their porn preference.

And like, why would we do what these guys say? Now, me, personally, each time I see one of their yassified sexy edits of an already pretty female character, it always looks like the tackiest shit to me, like they're a toddler who got into mommy's make-up. I want to start a GoFundMe to send them to beautician school. I don't care how much they screech about it, they cannot convince me their aesthetic tastes are something to emulate, so I coined this term for them just so I had a name for their obnoxious behavior.

All that being said, in the time since I wrote this post, I discovered it gained some traction outside of tumblr. "Cockroach Wife Syndrome" was added to Urban Dictionary. There are people slinging around the term on twitter. I personally got jumpscared by running into it in the wild on reddit, which was how I found out people are actually using it. Honestly, I am not that hyped about this being my legacy (and I am so sorry to the OP of this post that I got them stuck with seeing every reply or tag someone ever makes about the cockroach wife guy, like I'm some malevolent storytime cuckoo who dropped disturbing internet tales in their nest). But ultimately, I think this one is actually on the thousands of people who reblogged it and considered that I described a phenomenon that they also observed.

Y'all stay safe out there, and remember to vary your masturbation material once in a while.

i wish i could see this picture for the first time again

[jinuaei]

Another @muletia fanart, this time a mini OP based on this ask.

Tumblr don't kill me I was fighting for my life just to finish this one, its the middle of the night I REFUSE TO POST THIS CENSORED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Edit: I got flagged as soon as I posted it damn

EDIT EDIT: Thirds time the charm, might post the uncensored in uhhh patreon?, I can't post this on my twitter ppl IRL knows me there.

LAST EDIT: NSFW LINK HERE, remembered I have a TWT alt acc

Anyways VALVEPLUG 18+ MDNI UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!

[midnight-bay-if]

A Tentative Update

Tentative because I don't want to jinx anything. I'm hoping very soon I will have a workable update for the second half of chapter 3. It won't include everything that I wanted, which is all three possible routes for one-on-one scenes with team members, but over 30,000 words later, and it is still a sizeable update. This will also give me time to work on the third route in conjunction with chapter 4.

I'm not going to give a definitive date since I wouldn't want to let anyone down should things go wrong, but it would be fair to say 'very soon' will be as soon as I can make it... I will still try to answer asks where I can, but much of my attention will be on jumping these final hurdles.

I have also been planning potential tiers for a patreon... I would love to hear your thoughts.

A monthly Q&A for general questions, explicit NSFW questions, and a spoiler Q&A (the only question I wouldn't answer is 'who is the bay slasher?' because the short-lived quick gratification of the answer wouldn't be as satisfying as figuring it out on your own.)

NSFW short stories with a voted character.

Fluff mini-series with characters of your choice (from characters' POV) (I would perhaps learn twine so people can personalise their MC's for these.)

Short stories written from characters' POV similar to asks on tumblr, but longer and much more in-depth.

Any and all artwork I actually complete myself or commission.

(In the future; potentially?) I saw this idea on Tumblr, but I can't remember who the original idea belongs to. There would have to be a limited number of places, but a personalised letter from a character of your choice? You could use it like a penpal service, replying to the letter or just having a one-off letter from your RO addressed to you or your MC.

(In the future) Early access to new updates of the demo, as well as continued access after the public demo finishes.

If there is anything else you would like to see, send in your ideas.

It's my dream to be able to work on The Midnight Bay full-time one day. The project means a lot to me, as do these characters. Being able to share them with you in any capacity is a privilege. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to engage with this story and its characters. It really means the world to me.

P.S. Everytime I get close to a new update, my anxiety begins kicking me in the teeth again, so it's another reason for me to step away from social media while I finish. Otherwise, I fear I will never get it done.

[elodieunderglass]

Hi! I've been loving your Killie posts, somewhat obsessively. I've talked to my husband and housemate about them, and about all the jockey info you've shared. Killie brings me great joy, and I can't wait for your book!

I also, incidentally, have been trying to write a book myself for...most of my life??

The folly inherent in this endeavor is Very High (learning disorder from hell, three children under two, computer's been broken for like two years, etc., etc.), but I keep maniacally coming back to it. I have a notebook full of notes and, at long last, a new computer coming on Friday. In short, I know this is super weird and we don't know each other at all, but if there is any way to engage in parallel play long-distance, just say the word. 😅

(In reference to Killie and the fact that he needs a book, which, unfortunately, implies me writing it.

I meant what I said! We’re being brave and doing it together! This year, okay?

I completely understand and have so much sympathy for your circumstances…. I remember when I was writing Strange Pilgrims, which is “only” a fanfic, but it’s a pretty deep and heartfelt thing in its way, and I didn’t have a computer to write it on. Buying a refurbished laptop to finish that thing felt MONUMENTAL. Enjoy the moment of the new laptop and the new chapter it will bring. By buying it in the first place, you have committed yourself to saying “yes.”

If something lights up your brain like that, it’s a gift of splendid rarity. And that kind of gift catches in other people and they can enjoy it more because of its sincerity. I firmly believe that the gift you have been given is worth accepting and honouring, no matter what form it may take in the end. You’ve said yes! You’ve bought the laptop!

One thing I’m very good at it is accountability, so what I’m going to do is schedule a reblog of this ask for one month from now, tagging you in it. And I will chase you down - lovingly, like a greyhound chasing the… er….. moon. I am going to ask you how it is going. If you haven’t progressed at all, that’s fine - you’ll get a gold star. There’s no shame in not doing anything.

If you have started to build something, get words on paper or whatever your process looks like, I will give you (slaps roof of pockets) a present. Your very own Tumblr “phase of the moon” badge. I genuinely like having one, because it reminds me to think about the moon.

And also I will give Killie one (1) egg of his very own. With the yolk in.

If Killie does nothing else in his life he IS standing over your shoulder staring at you with big dark eyes like a drowned starving cat, hoping you’ll write, so he can have an egg.

It’s a deal

🤝

[ilovegt]

I know this isn't a real question, but you just appeared out of nowhere and started posting some of the cutest Gt I've ever seen. Where did you come from?

Well, actually, I joined this community in August 2024.

At about the age of 14, I found out that there is a community of people on Tumblr who like giant/tiny games as much as I do.To be honest, I've enjoyed these kinds of interactions since I was a kid, but I only realized it when I became a teenager.I decided to join you, and in 1 day I had a story with a giant sea monster in my head, so I drew a comic book.I didn't expect anything, I didn't even think I would finish it (I was right), but I was amazed by the audience's reaction..I mean... it..My drawings have never been so popular.I cried with happiness every time I saw the fan art.Oh my God, thanks to this account and the comic, I found my closest friends, you can't imagine how happy and loving I am about the g/t community, even if it's small, it's so homely and friendly.But unfortunately, I got tired of drawing this comic, I don't remember why, probably because of my studies (then I was in 8th grade, now in 9th grade), and I abandoned this comic.But now, past experience has allowed me to create this account and my current characters, and I've even gained more fame than before, I'm really glad I joined Tumblr back then, I can't imagine my life if my friends hadn't texted me back then and I wouldn't have joined this community.

yes, @afanofthegiantxd it's me

Actually, I kind of found out about the g/t community thanks to @friendlyfoxpal , so if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here.(I'm a big fan of your work)

[dragonsylus]

Whispers of an urban legend catch your ear:

Dragons are real.

And one lives in an isolated mountain range where fields of datura grow. It is said that the dragon can only be seen by those pure of heart and those who indulge in sin until they are consumed by their own desires. Either way, they are lured into the dragon's den to be eaten all the same, or so the legend goes.

If you choose to seek him out, you'd soon feel a stirring in your soul as you scale the treacherous rocky terrain, pass the delicate flowers swaying in the soft breeze, and approach his vast, treasure-filled cave.

This is a casual roleplay/ask blog for Sylus, stuck in his dragon form.

For adults only. Mun is 21+. Blank and ageless blogs will be blocked.

Taken anons: 🌸

Please read the information below before interacting.

Do you do literate RP? Can I plot with you?

First and foremost, this is a very unserious blog, so I'd rather keep this light. I've never written a dragon before, so even if you did get long replies from me, my writing wouldn't be that great anyway.

If you feel inspired, feel free to write as much as you want to me, but my replies will probably be around 1-3 paragraphs.

Expect slow replies, regardless of length.

Even if I reply to one ask, I might not reply to another in the same day. I am probably still working on it.

If I don't reply to your ask after a few days, please assume that I just can't think of an answer I'm satisfied with. Feel free to send another ask.

Feel free to interact with him in all the ways you can on tumblr. Feel free to tag him in posts with shiny things to pspsps him

Unless otherwise stated, I will assume you/your oc/mc is female and will use female pronouns.

Because of the way that he is, Sylus will only permit his kindred spirit into his home.

Is this set in the myth world or the current world?

You pick. In both worlds, he lives in an isolated mountain range where datura flowers grow.

If you choose the current world as the setting, Sylus has been missing from Onychinus for one year. He is still Sylus, except he's stuck in his dragon form. His memory is fuzzy though, and the longer he stays in his dragon form, the more his memories of being human fade away.

In the myth world setting, he has no recollection of his death. As far as remembers, he has always lived alone in the mountains.

Can the dragon talk?

Yes. He sounds like he does in his myth stories.

What kind of personality does the dragon have?

Pride and grumpiness mask a hidden sorrow. He holds the air of a mythical creature that is centuries old, but when he lets his guard down, he becomes soft and tender.

He likes collecting high quality, shiny treasures and will be annoyed if you offer him something cheap. He prefers his solitude but for reasons he doesn't understand, he tolerates your intrusion into his life.

Basically, just picture Kitty Sylus, but bigger and pointier.

Can he shapeshift into his human or half-human form?

Yes, no, maybe so.

How big is the dragon?

Based on wingspan, a little bigger than this one.

Can I fuck the dragon?

Why don't you touch him and find out?

[darsynia]

I looked *everywhere* for my draft because I REMEMBER writing up a response to this! So if I have responded twice, I'm sorry! I actually had this up for a couple of months in a tab to remind myself to look harder for the draft because you know how quick Tumblr makes drafts! ANYWAY...

But I also adored the fact that Steve thinks of this as sin, as his selfishness because he can't make the sacrifice he feels like he should - regardless of Reader telling him that she can handle this

Thank you, that is exactly what I was going for, allowing himself to be selfish. She's his one exception, almost a weakness except that he thinks the weak part is his inability to protect her from his own sin and the results of his attempts to save the world, both.

Thank you so, so much! I always have to remember that I'm not 'handing back' lovely comments, I get to keep them, but I hoard them sometimes anyway!

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words.

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “212 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

[masterwords]

Hello ❤️ If you have time I would love a blurb about Hotch and Morgan cuddles and feeling secure together it's my current brain rot thought.

Oh, yes. I do! I'm a sucker for the soft. I started things for this a number of times but all of them got so convoluted and long and away from the point of the cuddle - this one might have too, but the vibe feels right. I haven't posted a fic directly to tumblr in a while but I will do it now. I hope you like it! I wrote this in thirty minutes so if it feels fast and loose...it is. hahahaa

Words: 1.6k (that's not a blurb but I frequently fail at blurbs)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's nearly 1 am, and Hotch can't remember the last time he saw a Walmart at this time of night. He's avoided the store like the plague during regular waking hours, it's too bright and too loud, he can't focus. But when it's the only place open in a ten mile radius and he needs to get the snacks for Jack's preschool class on his way home from work…it's what he's got to work with.

That, or he could go to the gas station at the end of his block and spend a fortune on single serving nightmare food and be ostracized from snack parent duties entirely. The idea is enticing.

He buys a bag of tiny oranges and a bag of pretzels, bland and simple, exactly what he would want if he were a preschooler who wanted to eat quickly and get back to finger painting or playing outside. With his arms full of snacks, he makes his way toward the front of the store to checkout, catching only minor notes from the songs wafting through the store.

It's quiet in here. There are a couple of employees gathered around the one open cash register at the front and a few placed throughout the store restocking shelves. He's not the only shopper inside but he never ran into anyone else. It was almost serene and as he waits for the cashier to count back his change, he thinks this might be the best time to shop. He might have to do it more often.

It's the first time since Haley died that being in a grocery store hasn't resulted in a major meltdown on either he or Jack's part. Jack is sleeping, Jessica is staying over, and he's got all the time in the world to listen to the quiet.

He's always been partial to quiet, but it's been especially important to him in the years since the explosion in New York. Loud noises still hurt though he's gotten fairly good at concealing that fact, his carefully practiced neutral features don't give anything away anymore. He shivers when the cold hits him and with his one free hand, he reaches for the zipper on his jacket and pulls it up to his chin, stopping the worst of the wind from whipping against the exposed skin of his neck.

His car is one of about ten in the parking lot, the huge lot that takes up a full city block. It's almost post-apocalyptic, the way the streetlamps dot the asphalt, one of them flickers wildly above an employee in a blue vest trying desperately to keep his cigarette lit in the wind.

He sits in his car and waits while it warms up, rubbing his hands together like he's sitting in front of a fire. His circulation has always been bad, but since Foyet's attack it's been almost nonexistent. His hands are always cold, fingers stiff and painful. He'd gone to the doctor convinced they were going to tell him he had arthritis, that he was going to lose his ability to shoot his gun sooner rather than later, but all they said was that his circulation was terrible and gave him some exercises to do that would help increase blood flow temporarily. The pain and numbness would be persistent, they said, but do those exercises and you'll alleviate some of it.

The exercises make him feel silly. Jack sometimes copies them without knowing what he's doing - he'll be standing at the sink working his way through dishes and stop to do them because he's afraid he'll drop a glass and make a big mess in front of his son, and when he looks over Jack is playing with his legos and doing the same thing with his hands. Jack copies him a lot and that scares him, he's watching everything he does and says so carefully he's giving himself stomach aches making sure that Jack doesn't take on his worst traits.

"Hello?" he says, answering his phone. He knows who it is without looking.

"You ever coming home?" Derek asks impatiently and Hotch can hear the echo of his own hallway. Derek is waiting outside of his apartment. Derek calls his apartment home. He's still not quite over that revelation, but he hasn't made a big deal out of it.

"Had to stop at Walmart, I'm on snack duty for Jack's school tomorrow morning."

"You do realize we have to be up in less than six hours…"

"I'm on my way. Five minutes."

"The clock starts now."

Hotch throws his car into drive and heads toward the driveway a little faster than he should but there's something so freeing about speeding through an empty parking lot. It reminds him of learning to drive with his uncle because his father was rotting in a bed being eaten alive by cancer by the time he was old enough to get behind a wheel. His uncle was always a bit of a wildcard, not unlike Sean, and encouraged Hotch to put the pedal to the metal when he first started out. "It'll take away all the mystery of what it feels like to really go fast," he'd said and Hotch thought it did work, sort of, but once the mystery was gone he was simply left with the overwhelming love for it. He'd always loved to drive fast, to feel the speed in the wheels beneath him. To float dangerous corners. It's come in handy during high-speed chases on plenty of occasions.

He obeys the speed limit going home, though. Doesn't blow any stop signs or red lights. His little bag of groceries stays firmly in place on the passenger seat and he's putting his car in park at the six minute mark. He could have made it in three if he wasn't being so good about rules.

"You're late," Derek says, leaning against the wall beside his door. Hotch stops beside him, a little too close, and waits patiently for the kiss. Derek always kisses him first. Not because he has to, but because he likes to. He's competitive to a fault. The kiss happens quick, Derek smiling against Hotch's lips while Hotch unlocks the door to his apartment.

Everything is dark, only one small lamp left on to light their way through the living room to the kitchen. Doesn't matter, they know it all by feel alone. Hotch still won't step where Foyet attacked him, he walks around it like a kid skipping the cracks in the sidewalk, and Derek doesn't say a word. He never walked down the sidewalk that his father was killed on again, wouldn't even consider it. He gets it. Some places just hold onto a feeling that you don't want any part of.

They stop in the kitchen and in the dark, they hold each other for a moment. They lean heavily against one another, chest to chest, faces buried in necks, releasing the day. Derek had been hours away doing an in-service with Reid while Hotch worked in DC with Strauss. They hadn't seen each other all day, and this one moment in the darkened kitchen was all it took to make it all melt away. Hotch clung to Derek's waist, numb tingling fingers still not recovered from the night chill digging into the stiff leather of Derek's jacket.

Neither of them spoke. They could say things like I love you or I missed you but that was so heavily implied in the way they just stood there that it would have felt almost wrong to say it. From there they moved in unison toward Hotch's bedroom, undressing quickly, Derek pulling pajamas from the drawer Hotch set aside for him in his own dresser. At his house, he slept naked, but Jack had a tendency to creep into their bed in the darkest hours of the night and he'd only had to be startled awake by that terror once before he learned to deal with the discomfort in sleeping with clothes on. Hotch had offered just to take Jack back to his own bed, but Derek kind of liked when the kid came in, he liked the sound of his tiny snores and the way he curled up in a tiny ball between them like they were the safest place in the world.

But before Jack made his way in, it was Hotch that curled up against him. Derek runs hot and Hotch can't resist absorbing as much of that heat as he can. He slides beneath the blankets and pushes himself flat against Derek's side, burying his icy fingers in the warmth of Derek who always made a surprised noise so involuntarily at the intrusion. He knew it was coming but there was no way to prepare for it. Hotch sleeps in socks, much to Derek's chagrin, but at least that means his cold feet won't be a problem. Just those hands.

Hotch can't remember how or when this really started, and he can't remember ever having any real conversations about what they were or where it was going, no five year plans or relationship goals, it was just safety. It was just love. It didn't need a name or future plans, it didn't need any constraints at all. It was simply something, a beacon in a storm, a lighthouse burning bright. The knowledge that this something was always waiting at the end of a long day, no explanation necessary, had gotten them both through more hard days than either of them could ever articulate.

Whatever it was, whatever anyone might call it, didn't matter. It was simply the feeling of home in another person, and that was all either of them dared to dream of.

[erinwantstowrite]

i get a lot of asks about what fic recs i have and i am in fact compiling a list (i discovered most of them from alighterwood) but right now my favorite fic that i have been following is The Buzzard by FlightL3ss_Bird1029 on ao3 and it needs its own post specifically because i am that in love with it

it's an au where Tim doesn't become Robin and instead, Steph takes up the mantle. It has a prologue called Fledge that had me hooked from the beginning.

Fledge's description:

"When Jason Todd died, Tim took it upon himself to find a way to save Batman from his dark spiral of violence. Maybe if things had gone differently Tim would have offered himself up to take the Robin mantle and work alongside his hero. Unfortunately, Tim was too busy running his parents' company after the untimely death of his mother. But he knew how to be useful, and other opportunities presented themselves for him to do just that. He felt a little bad about helping to kidnap Damian, but decidedly less bad about helping Steph become a hero. He just hoped that his use wouldn't run out before getting to help his Robin."

The Buzzard's description:

"After a difficult year (for many reasons) Tim goes back to Gotham to help Jason Todd reconnect with his family. Whether Jason wanted that or not, well, Tim had time to wear him down. Between the tutelage of Deathstroke and Lady Shiva, he was well equipped to handle himself as Jason's equal and hit Gotham's vigilante scene as the Buzzard. His parents were dead and the lonely cavity in his chest kept growing every day, but it didn't matter. Tim's mission could and would succeed despite his personal feelings and failures. He was fine and he had a job to do."

Everyone is so well written in this and I think about it constantly. The Buzzard currently has 10 chapters, 103,528 words. I don't usually rec fics until they've finished but this one is always on my mind, so I had to

[mellosdrawings]

How are Vil's fans (and Leona's fans, as I'm sure he have some) with the n2 team? Have they had a big reaction to the fact that it's a polyamorous relationship? How does Jamil deal with this attention?

Do the Asims know about their relationship? I mean, I think Vil as a public figure and Leona as a prince would draw attention.And how does Jamil's family react? I think they want Jamil to be happy, but they're afraid of what the Asims might do. And I think they expected Jamil to end up with a servant (I'm using the reasoning that Viper is Jamil's father's last name, but his mother also seems to be very used to being a servant, so she must be from a servant family of the Asims, less important than the Vipers) or at least a commoner and lower class person than Jamil's current boyfriends.

For now I'll only answer for Vil's fans. The Asim and the Viper reactions will be coming sometime soon.

Vil dropped the news little by little. Leona and Jamil in the background of more relax pics, a couple dance sessions with Jamil, inconspicuous things. Just to get his fans used to their sight.

The he dropped hints, bigger and bigger, until the reveal. Aside from the few fans who are far too into parasocial relationships and are salty about Vil dating coz that means they have no chance anymore (not that they had any), it went relatively fine. They took one look at Leona and went "Yup, our Queen deserves a prince, good for him good for him."

The thing that surprised Vil though is that his fans latched onto Jamil more than Leona. After all as you said Leona is a public figure. They know him. Jamil though doesn't even post pics of himself on Magicam. He's a total mystery. They know he's a dancer so they try to check music videos (useless), they try finding his magicam (they don't), and eventually someone finds out those two pics taken at the Tapis Rouge event (which doesn't help much coz they still don't know who he is lol)

The mystery actually helps fans ease into it. They're just so obsessed with finding who Jamil is that they forget to (maybe) be upset about their Queen's love life.

As for Jamil... he just doesn't deal with the attention. He's not much on socials so he doesn't care, and despite being eye candy he isn't all that charismatic so people don't pay much attention to him. He got cornered by a few hardcore fans who miraculously managed to recognise him and he just plastered his best customer service smile until they left him alone. He's dealt with worse than pushy fans before. He might not be used to being the center of attention, he's still good at dealing with stressful situations.

[amanda-519]

Ugh, I wrote like so many paragraphs but I had to put my phone down and when I opened Tumblr again my post was GONE. Not even in drafts so I have to write this AGAIN.

but, yes, I agree with you I'm also a huge Cecil apologist

I can understand completely why Cecil did what he did. Nolan almost took over the PLANET and Mark has the potential to be as strong as Nolan is. Of course the director of the GDA would try and come up with countermeasures!!!

.... But I'm also a Mark apologist. Like, imagine being Mark. Imagine growing up and having Nolan be gentle with you, be kind, be supportive. Mark grew up believing that his dad would never hurt him.

In season 1 when Nolan punched Mark, Mark was surprised. As he's on the ground he sounds like he can't believe his dad would actually hurt him. And later actually admits that he was surprised (and scared) that his dad hurt him.

Mark believed that his dad would never hurt him. That he would never hurt anyone.

After Nolan kills the Immortal in front of him, Mark immediately thinks that his dad is being mind controlled. His dad would never kill anyone. His dad LOVES him, his dad loves his mom.

And Nolan betrayed and broke that trust by killing all of those people, and almost killing Mark.

I feel like Mark kinda saw Cecil as a father figure, in a way. He was an older man in a position of power. He was wiser, more knowledgeable, and powerful.

Cecil was abrasive, stern, and a bit controlling. But I think Mark needed that. Nolan was shady, he could turn off his emotions. He could be at the guardians funeral and call them friends, and then come home and call them coworkers and not seem sad at their deaths.

Mark needed someone he felt like would tell him how it is. And I think he looked at Cecil for that.

Which is why Mark argued to work for him. To be on call. Why he trained with Cecil (like how he trained with his father).

Mark believed that Cecil wasn't like his father, on some level. Cecil worked for the GDA. He worked to PROTECT people.

I don't think that Mark's reaction to Cecil working with Darkwing or Sinclair was entirely because they were murderers, I think it was also because, in Mark's mind, he betrayed him.

Mark believed that Cecil was good, that he wouldn't hurt anyone, that he wouldn't work with bad guys (like how his father is working for the viltrumite empire), that he wouldn't hurt Mark (like how Nolan hurt Mark).

But then Cecil did.

Like imagine being Mark in that situation. Growing up thinking the world of your father, that he's a hero, that he loves you, that he loves your mom.

Only for Nolan to betray Mark so badly.

And then enters Cecil. An older man in a position in power, who has never been anything but nice (if a bit abrasive). (Remember, Mark didn't know Cecil was willing to let the giant tentacle thing kill him along with his dad)

Nolan helped Mark. He put him back on the field, made him feel important.

And then Cecil turned around and worked with murders and hurt him. Just like his dad hurt him.

But I can also understand why Cecil did what he did. I bet Cecil feels responsibility for what Nolan did, that he didn't stop Nolan before, that he didn't put in place countermeasures.

Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when Nolan showed up. But he hoped for the best. He was optimistic (naive) about Nolan. That he would help. And Nolan did, for 20 years. And then Nolan betrayed them. Betrayed him.

There were no countermeasures in place for Nolan. The giant tentacle thing they brought out was something they discovered recently. Even though Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when he showed up on Earth, he didn't try to think of a way to take Nolan down.

And it's not like it would have been hard to find a way, the screeching sound is a weakness. And I bet in 20 years Nolan came across something akin to that. But Cecil wasn't looking, he probably didn't pay attention to it.

And I bet that thought keeps him up. The fact that Cecil knew Nolan was lying and yet didn't try harder to think of a way to put Nolan down.

Nolan betrayed both Cecil and Mark, and that betrayal hurt both of them deeply.

I think both Cecil and Mark both, on a subconscious level, saw each other as a "do-over" for Nolan.

For Cecil, he saw Mark as a fresh viltrumite (like how Nolan was a fresh viltrumite when he first came to earth). Except this time Cecil is going to keep Mark on a shorter leash. He's going to put in countermeasures from day one (Cecil put the chip in Mark's brain right after Mark finished fighting his dad).

Cecil felt so out of control with Nolan that he wasn't willing to do the same with Mark.

I think Cecil pulled out the switch so fast because Cecil didn't like the idea of losing even the smallest bit of control of Mark. He was scared, sure, but he was also scared that if he didn't act now, that if he didn't get Mark back into control now, that this would be another Nolan situation.

For Mark, he saw Cecil as an older man he could trust. That was like his father in some ways (powerful, more experienced) but different in others (abrasive, says what he wants).

So when Cecil turned out to be working with murders Mark freaked out because he felt like Cecil broke his trust (like how his father broke his trust).

In conclusion, I can understand why both of them did what they did, lol.

ngl I’m a Cecil apologist

S3 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

like I mean come ON he tried so many times to get Mark to chill and talk and at least respect what Cecil was trying to do. Like no a nineteen year old doesn’t get to single-handedly determine moral high ground just because he’s superboy.

Mark needs to be able to have huge unconquerable disagreements without resorting to violence. Or menace and the fact he can’t check how scary being flown after is to Cecil is giving those six right men who don’t realize yelling at women is INSANELY scary to them for systematic reasons.

the fact nobody in marks life except maybe his mom can go “Mark stfu and sit down we need to talk like adults” without having to FRY HIS BRAIN is scary. Cecil’s job is to keep the world safe. Mark just made it very clear he’s willing to exploit his supernatural abilities when he has a conflict of opinion. That’s not good. What if Mark, like naive young adults do, discovers political extremism? Or idfk, Vilrtumite ideology. Who saves earth when its protector disagrees with the people he’s trying to protect? Who keeps the invincible in check?

[mbohjeezart]

[ WIP ]

Bring a goat to a courthouse...

[almondcroissantsandink]

something something if they had found each other earlier

[jade-of-mourning]

i miss them

[midnightwind]

okay tumblr decided to be Funny with me so I'm coming back to this outside of the tags because apparently I have too many thoughts about the Crows for my own good

so, cracking my knuckles because it's been a hot sec since I've sat down to be insane over the Crows and their politics! (god fuck sorry just looked up the 'cast list' for 8LT again and wdym Dante was Second Talon wtf- that feels wild okay sorry I thought Emil was Second Talon for some reason) ANYWAYS I think it's entirely possible that Caterina did not push on having Houses Balazar and Valisti vacate their spots, I would find it Highly unlikely that a Talon would not have a successor lined up should something happen to them. Caterina cannot be the only Talon thinking about Legacy and What Comes Next and even if there wasn't an obvious heir to the seat in Houses that lost their Talon I think someone would have stepped up, esp with Caterina looming over them being like “figure your shit out we have to save the country.” (internal fighting still very real, but unless a Knife tried to fight for the spot, I doubt they'd change Houses esp since we haven't heard of a Knife taking a seat recently [we don't know if Teia was Cantori before taking her seat or not to my knowledge])

although there is also a real discussion to be had about how much communication can happen between the Talons post invasion... Viago's letter to Rook mentions that writing letters to Minrathous will be almost impossible because of the Antaam (which I take with a grain of salt because why would the Assassin's Guild use mundane mail that has to be screened... and maybe he just means “they're annoyingly apt at spotting our messages so it's not worth it unless it's Important” idk, it would be on brand for him to also be like "and nothing you write is ever very important so fix that or stop trying to write me") but I think the Second and Third seats are at least still within their initial Houses from 8LT just because of the invasion looming. I do think Caterina might have gone scorched earth on House Kortez however (I can't remember if we have a Codex or dialogue citing this, I know we had a few references to fallen Houses but I read 8LT after finding those and don't want to open the game rn lmao) very much “can't know how deep the betrayal goes so burn it all to save us the trouble” you know?

so maybe Viago did become Fourth Talon after 8LT given he solved the murders and ensured Emil was caught, but then Rook happens. Rook ruins an important strike against the invaders and Viago spares them over it. Caterina understands doing anything for your family (and Rook is set up as his family and potentially his successor even!) but that can't be allowed so he has to be punished! But he's a clever Crow and a good Talon and an important piece on the board (esp when it comes to the Crown of Antiva!) so why not just take that promotion away and ensure he does better next time? scare him, ensure the Problem (Rook) is dealt with, and keep that hard worker under your thumb! I don't know if another House stepped up to fill that role or if there just currently isn't a Fourth Talon (Illario did have a full spread when he tried to take over as First Talon but maybe he just had stand ins or supporters mixed in with Teia and Viago, I don't think all the Talons are in Treviso or should all be there or could all be there that fast) I foresee Bolivar getting ousted by his own House upon his return from 8LT honestly so House Nero may still hold the Sixth seat under a new Talon, and well poor Arainai might still be 8th Talon (never rule out Zevran coming back to run chaos) but it's the weakest seat so I doubt Caterina really worried about solving that with the Antaam happening. and so as long as the House still answers and fights for the Talons in Antiva I doubt it matters who's name has the title, anyone in the House could have taken over for Giuli.

I think bare minimum that Teia should have been promoted to Sixth Talon tho she was core to finding Emil as the killer and it's esp weird considering Caterina very openly favors her. maybe they thought bumping Teia to Sixth but leaving Viago as Fifth would be too confusing? but only people who read 8LT would even find it odd (and even then, would we??) but maybe they had the seats already decided for Veilguard before Tevinter Nights was finished and things stayed the same between...

anyways, the whole of Antiva is primed for a Huge wave of reform at end of the events of Veilguard, esp if Rook is played as a Crow. the heroes of the world (this time) are all decently high ranked or highly respected assassins within the order and one of them even has ties to the crown! I think, if we had gotten to see a little further, glimpsed the road Antiva is on with ousting the Antaam, there would be a decent chance of the Crows becoming proper god damned heroes of legends to the country and Viago making a real move to take the crown from his father (with full backing from at least 2 Houses if not most of the order) and who even knows if having a full 8 Talons would even be needed then? the entire order of Crows could be going through some insane changes at the end of all this

also one other thing that was bothering me. even if we chuck it up to teia's influence and viago being super generous by not overtaking 2nd and 3rd talon (house balazar and valisti) after what happen in eight little talons, house kortez is pretty much done and gone. it makes no sense that a cuchillo house is jumping immediately to the vacated 4th talon position, viago should be a 4th talon now and teia 6th. the setup where they remained at their previous positions would only make sense if they for some reason kept 4th talon vacated, but that makes no sense, it's been years. i think it's just a slipup and by all means viago should be 4th and teia 6th at least. i would even expect more changes in the hierarchy, but on the other hand maybe caterina penalized infighting somehow now that they should be focusing on the antaam.

[bylrndgm]

JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS (2020) // JULIE E OS FANTASMAS (2011) 1.01 - Wake Up // 1.01 - Enfrentando Fantasmas -> Julie meets the Band.