#just because youre thirsty for attention and more notes on your terrible posts

[muli-wam]

I'm yours

summary: suguru geto, the second most popular guy in school (gojo being the first 🙄), the man ladies swoon over for his charm, looks and personality, also happens to be your beloved boyfirend. Because of his status its hard to get away from prying eyes and thirsty girls. Most of the time it never bothers you but sometimes you can't help but let the intrusive thoughts get the best you you.

pairing: suguru geto x fem!reader

cw: slight angst, fluff, comfort, gojo being obnoxious, jealousy, oral (f receiving), fingering, pls lmk if I missed anything im rlly tired rn

wc: 2.9k

Authors note: mkay so this is like- my first fic I've posted ON THIS ACCOUNT and I haven't wrote in a minute so I'm TERRIBLY sorry if this is terrible. Gimme some time okay 🤧 promise I'll get better. You can check out my other fics @muliwam Anyways enjoy <3 also this is a bit a lot self indulgent hehe

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8:03 am

You and Suguru were walking hand in hand across campus to your first lecture of the day: Calculus.

You drag your feet as you walk, groaning in tiredness.

"I just want to go to bed," You whine. Why on God's green earth was calculus your FIRST class of the day?

"Stop your complaining. You'll be fine," Suguru says, annoyed while gently nudging your side. Suguru pulls you closer to him as you weave through the crowd of students.

"We do this every morning and you complain about it every morning. It's not that bad,"

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the one with calculus at eight in the morning," you grumble.

Suguru lets out a light chuckle before nudging you again, "Well at least you have something to look forward to later. Satoru won't stop blabbing his big mouth about a cat cafe that opened up down the road. He wants to take us."

"I thought he was a dog person...?" You furrow your brows while looking up at him.

"Yeaaah, he just wants to go for the sweets. He'll do anything for dessert," he chuckles before letting out a deep sigh.

Satoru always had a sweet tooth and even despite nanami's badgering, saying he's not gonna have his teenage body forever. It always ends with, "come onnnnnuhhhhh nanami. We are not old yet!"

"Incoming," you whisper a few moments later as you approach the group of girls that wait for Suguru to pass by every morning. This is a daily occurrence for you guys. While he's walking you to class this group of girls wait for him so they can talk to him and try and put their grubby hands on him.

"Oh, hey Geto! Was wondering if you could help me study for Mr. Drew's test coming up? I'm really stumped on a few things and was hoping you could help?" One of the girls says while twirling her hair around her finger and holding his bicep.

"O-oh um," geto only gets a couple words out before another girl on his right approaches him, completely ignoring you and shoving you to the side.  You look at her in disbelief while Suguru throws you a weary look.

"Can you help me too, Geto? History isn't really my thing. I'm pretty dumb when it comes to these kinds of things," She giggles while putting her hand on Getos shoulder.

You've never been affected by this kind of behavior but this seemed a little overboard. Usually they just try and strike up a conversation or homework help, but today is different. Why are they touching what's yours?

You think maybe you're overthinking it, but recently you've noticed suguru getting more and more attention, which in turn made you feel neglected and left out. Always being pushed to the sidelines like you're just a person in other people's story.

"Sorry ladies but I have to escort my beautiful girl to class. I'm sure you can manage by yourselves, no?" He didn't wait for an answer while he grabbed your hand and walked off. The girls stood there in shock and jealousy.

"That was crazier than normal huh?" Geto chuckles while looking down at you. You let out a breathy chuckle while looking down at your feet.

"Yeah, uh.... was pretty crazy huh?"

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4:25 pm

All day long you couldn't help but think about what happened that morning. Or in front of your classroom. Geto got swarmed again by girls asking for directions to a certain place or if they could study with him one on one.

He declined them all but you were still afraid that he would see something in these girls that might have spiked his interest. You thought that he might leave you for one of them. I mean, come on anyone with two eyes and a brain can see that these girls are beautiful.

They're popular, and pretty, and suguru could easily have one of them with just one word.

You had just been so stressed and insecure about a lot of things lately that you didn't realize that he was ignoring them the whole time. You didn't want to voice your feelings to him though, typical ol' you, scared you might come off as possessive.

Throughout the entire day you were so caught up in your head. Even at the cafe, Nanami asked you if you were okay. You smiled and nodded at him while continuing to watch Suguru play with a black cat.

You walked over to Geto and sat next to him while carrying a baby kitten who you named Mr. Chomper because he kept trying to nibble on your hair. You recall reading that his real name was Arthur but you didn't think it suited him well.

"Well hello there Mister," Geto smiles while petting the cat in your arms. The cat he was previously playing with seemed to get a bit jealous and started pawing at his hand.

"And hello to this beautiful lady," Geto says before leaning in and pecking your forehead and then your lips.

You smile while cuddling up closer to him, closing your eyes and leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Y'tired?" He quietly asks while grabbing your hand in his.

"Mhm," you nod.

Geto could sense something was wrong but he didn't want to bring it up until you guys were home.

"Do you wanna-" Geto starts before he gets abruptly cut off by an obnoxious white haired man who is also his best friend.

"OOOO DO YOU GUYS WANT TO GO GET ICE CREAM NOW!?" Satoru jumps up and down with a baby kitten in his hands. Nanami looks at him in horror, fearful for the poor cat that Gojo is holding.

"I was thinking we could get frozen yogurt! Wait no I actually want a milkshake... Hmmmmm- AHHHHH" Gojo lets out an insanely high pitch yelp as he turns to see a cat nibbling on his shoelace.

"HELP MEEEEEE ITS EATING ME!!!"

"OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE." Satoru hollers. You, Suguru and Nanami try holding back your laughs as Gojo stands there in agony.

Geto stands and goes to pick up the cat that's chewing on his shoelace before saying, "I think me and ______ are gonna head home. You and Nanami could go though?"

Nanami is quick to reply, "aaaactually I have studying to do. Sorry Gojo, you're on your own." Nanami collects his things, says his goodbyes and gives the cat he was hanging out with one last pet before walking out.

"WHAT? You guys are really abandoning me huh. Y'know if shoko was here right now she would-" Geto cuts him off,

"Shoko is studying for her big medical exam coming up. I don't think she would hang out with you even if she could." You giggle silently next to Geto.

"And here I thought you guys were my friends." Gojo says in mock sadness.

You three say your goodbyes and go your separate ways.

"Ready to head home, pretty?" Geto grabs your hand while walking to his car. You nod while getting in.

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8:54 pm

It was nighttime now and you and Geto just finished eating dinner. You two shared an apartment together since you weren't comfortable with living on campus or having a roommate.

You've been silent the whole night, only saying a few short word answers here and there, but you were still so in your head about the earlier incident.

You started thinking about similar incidents in the past, over analyzing everything that happened, like the waiter at that restaurant last week, or the cashier at the grocery store. You started to feel childish for feeling this way.

Maybe it was from past relationships that caused you to feel this way, to feel the jealousy you're feeling now.

Geto was starting to worry, not used to your silence since you're usually a very talkative and outgoing person. He decided to talk to you about it.

"My love?" Geto walks into your bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt.

"Yeah? Is everything okay?" You ask while looking up at him from your desk. You were working on an extra credit assignment for your physics class.

Geto sits on your bed, a faint creek coming from it. "C'mere," he nods at you, patting the spot next to him.

You get up and sit down next to him.

"Talk to me, baby. You've seemed kinda off all day." He puts his hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles on it to calm you down since he could feel you getting anxious.

You bite the skin from your lips before replying, m'fine. Just tired is all." You avoid eye contact with him, knowing that if you looked him in the eye you would break.

"C'mon I know that's not why. Did I do something wrong?" He tilts his head down, trying to look at you.

"You didn't do anything... I just-" you start before deciding not to say anything. You were afraid of what he might think, that he may say you're being possessive or childish.

"You just what? Baby I can't read your kind. If you want to fix this you gotta tell me what's wrong." he gently grabs your hands while leaning his forehead on yours.

You hesitate for a moment before sighing, "it's just what happened this morning. It kinda got to me. That's all though. I know it's stupid."

Geto had a feeling that was why but didn't want to make assumptions. He saw your face when that girl pushed you out of the way earlier and he saw the way your face fell when they all kept asking him for directions and stuff. 

was aware that this affected you, even if only a little bit. I mean, he would feel the same if he were you. Geto couldn't count on one hand the amount of times he got jealous when guys asked him for your number before you two started dating since they knew you guys were close. When people found out you were taken, guys were too afraid to make a move on you, scared of what Geto might do.

Geto knew there was more to the situation but he didn't want to pry, opting on talking about it later when you weren't so stressed.

"Aw, baby I'm so sorry you feel that way. I wish I could help in some way but there's not much I can do about this." He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, enveloping you in his warmth and comfort.

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, "I'm sorry I know it's childish and stupid and I'm probably being dramatic right now but-" Geto abruptly cuts you off with a passionate kiss.

You melt in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You felt like fireworks were going off and like all your stress and troubles were lifted off your shoulders.

He pulls away slightly and your lips chase him again before he says, "Don't say that about yourself. You're not being childish and dramatic, you're just a little jealous and that's okay." You blush while he continues,

"You're going through a lot right now. with studying and homework, I know you're probably tired mentally. I'm here for you though. I'm yours and I want to take care of you. And I know there's more to this, you just don't want to tell me right now but that's okay." He slightly chuckles towards the end while cupping your face in his hand.

You look at him with slightly watery eyes, "Thank you... I really needed that." You say quietly.

Suguru smiles before going in to kiss you again, this time more passionate than the last. You feel his hands creep to your waist to pull you in closer to him, shifting you to straddle his lap.

"I love you," he whispers while kissing down your neck.

"so, so much. I'm yours, yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile at him before kissing him again, your tounge wandering through his mouth.

"Say it." He whispers against your lips. You pull back slightly.

"Say it. Say that I'm yours and that you're mine." He nips at your earlobe before whispering again,

"Say it"

"I'm yours, and you're mine. Forever." You gasp.

Suguru's large hands palm your ass before giving it a firm smack. You let out a small whimper before starting to kiss down his neck.

You can feel his quickening pulse as you kiss and lick down his neck, biting down where his shoulder and neck meet.

He groans as he leave butterfly kisses on your cheek and neck before crawling to the top of the bed and flipping you on your back. You hear the springs from the mattress creek in the process. Suguru sits back on his knees while admiring your beautiful body.

"So beautiful," he whispers to himself. He leans down and starts to trail wet kisses down your neck, then to your stomach. He brings one of his hands up to fondle your breast through the fabric of your shirt and bra.

You sigh as you feel his wet lips suck and bite at your belly, trailing kisses down until he reaches the waistband of your sweats.

Sugurus violet eyes look up at you, silently asking for permission. You nod yes as you run your fingers through his raven locks.

He slowly pulls down you bottoms, kissing his way down your legs in the process. He throws your pants behind him, not paying any attention as to where.

He kisses his way back up your leg before stopping at your already dripping core.

He looks up at you once again smirking slightly. "Can I?" He rasps.

"God yes," you groan, slowly becoming impatient.

He quickly pulls off your panties and tosses them while admiring your dripping heat.

You get a little embarrassed and try closing you legs, but Geto let's out disapproving tuts before prying them back open.

He immediately dives nose deep into your core, licking at your folds and sucking on your sensitive nub.

You moan in pleasure, the sensations of his wet tounge against you causing tingles throughout your entire body. You grip at his hair and start grinding your hips against his face.

"Mhmmm yes baby use me.. use my face baby, you deserve it." Geto hums against your cunt.

"Fuckk Suguru that feels so good." You cry out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Suguru shakes his face against your cunt, shoving his toung in as far as it would go, before adding two of his long digits knuckle deep into your pussy.

"Y'gonna cum baby? Hm? Y'gonna come on my fingers?" Suguru says honestly as he drinks up your juices that were dripping down his hand. You cry out in overwhelming pleasure as you feel your climax coming.

Suguru pumps his fingers faster, feeling your cunt clench and unclench around his digits, signaling your close.

"Yes, yes, yes, please don't stop, please don't stop please," You scream.

"Yes baby yes, cum on my fingers baby, you can do it. I know you can," suguru talks you through it as you feel your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You felt your vision go white and your eyes roll back as far as they could. You felt as if you died and went to heaven. Your body feels like its lighter than a feather, like your floating in an eternal abyss.

"F-FUuuuukkkk yess" You yell out as suguru rides out your high with his fingers. You body convulses against his face and fingers as you let out heaves of air, trying to catch your breath.

"Goooood girl. Did so good f'me." Suguru whispers before slowly pulling his fingers out of your pussy, placing a gentle kiss on it before climbing up the bed to kiss you as well.

He runs soothing hands up and down your body while gently kissing you, whispering sweet nothings to you and moving the hair out of your face.

"Did so well for me," He smiles lazily at you. You felt like you couldn't even talk, still stuck in the post orgasmic haze.

Once you come back to reality, you feel Sugurus hard bulge against your thigh and you reack a shaky hand down to palm it but he stops you.

"No baby I'm okay. Just wanted to take care of you," he decided he would take care of himself when your sound asleep but for now he just wanted to take care of you.

You didn't argue with him when he said that, too tired to even try.

Suguru got up to grab your panties and one of his tee shirts for you to change into. He quickly grabbed a glass to water and had you drink some before gently putting the clothes on you before tucking you into bed next to him.

"Rest, my love." He whispers against your head.

"I love you suguru." You say tiredly before slowly drifting off into unconsciousness.

"I love you too, more than you could ever know." Is the last thing suguru says to you before you fall asleep.

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Please do not copy or translate my work on here or other platforms without MY permission

[capwilsons]

I really wish the Sam Wilson tag was actually about, you know, Sam Wilson? and not full of Bucky reader inserts or completely unrelated posts about other marvel characters

[yuusaris]

Attention, Please

Posting with more respect because now I'm well.

Now on AO3

TW: Starvation, mental manipulation, obsession, magical fuckery, dubcon

“Excuse me.”

Bakura looked over. A pretty thing stood beside him, with pretty brown eyes that had locked onto Bakura like he’d look at a mark. “Can I have your attention?”

An escort? Some religious nut? Likely nothing fun on it’s own, but possibly fun to play with. And with the foul mood Malik had put him in, he was in dire need of fun.

“Yeah, whatever,” He shrugged. “What’ve you got?”

What he had, the second Bakura answered, was a big, beautiful smile - one that made his whole world shift.

-------

Bakura’s thumb hovers over the buttons, Malik’s chain of old messages hanging over his text-box.

Malik [Wednesday, 8:42PM]: Where _are_ you?

Nothing moves but time. His eyes wander from the text to the clock - 4 PM. Didn’t Bakura first meet Him at 4 PM? The train hadn’t been late, but he’d barely heard any whistle or announcement. It’s been hard to hear anything over His voice-

Bakura squeezes his eyes shut, tries to purge the thought of brown eyes and pretty smiles. But they linger, stuck to the backs of his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, he forces his eyes on the texts again.

Or… he tries to. The words are a jumble when he stares or thinks too hard. It’s too much effort to try.

Marik [Thursday, 9:15 AM]: Answer me or you’ll be answering whoever I send to find your ass.

He wants to respond, to say something, anything, to get Malik… up to date? To help him? There’s something wrong, has been since He came and went, leaving nothing but a box of sweets and an emptied water bottle. Bakura’s lost track of how many times he’s refilled it, the same way one loses track of breathing or blinking.

He’s thirsty again. He always is when he thinks about the water bottle. And it’s empty. He needs to fill it again. He gets up, bottletop between his fingers, and drops his needless phone on the bed.

What’s one more day of silence?

-------

“That one’s got her purse on the floor,” Bakura noted from their booth. “Y’see- well, don’t look look, glance, careful-like, over your shoulder - there you go, see it now? It’s a terrible spot to put what has your money. Anyone could fake a trip and swipe what falls out. If they’re good, they’ll even get away with it.”

“Are you that good?” His date asked, raising a wry brow.

“If I wasn’t, would I tell you?” Bakura raised his own with a grin.

And his pretty thing laughed, clear and joyful, like bells.

-------

He stomachs through the smell and sight of wasted food. Half-cooked, undercooked, un-cooked, rotting (he’d just wandered away, had to check the window, the peephole, He should be back), half-eaten, never eaten (never tasted right, never smelled right), left to boil or simmer and stayed untouched - an inevitable burn had given him the focus to at least put the fire out.

He’s hungry. He could try another bite into a ramen block. Though, if yesterday's crumbles of raw noodles is an indicator, probably not.

They didn’t bring any real food when Bakura brought Him home - their leftovers from their diner lunch had doubled as dinner that same Monday night. And He’d finished the leftover box of profiteroles the next day, before he understood what was happening to him.

That was Tuesday. It’s almost Tuesday again.

Worse than his indifference towards the decaying mess was his apathy about eating any of it. He thinks about his hunger and wants another pork cutlet sandwich. He’d even settle for His salad. Odd waste, he’d always thought, getting a salad when eating out. But His had looked alright enough to take His offered bite. Bakura would kill for another.

Instead, he fills the water bottle He’d left behind and drinks until he feels a filled stomach.

-------

The pretty thing had taken a detour from Bakura’s bed to Diabounds vivarium. He couldn’t mind too much, Diabound needed her water changed anyway. And it was cute to watch his date squeamishly drop the mouse in.

“My girl’s the only thing keeping me on the straight and narrow,” Bakura said as she finished her mouse. “I can't take care of her from a cell block.”

“Did you hear that, Diabound? You’re so important, he unstickied his fingers.”

Bakura snorted, his cheeks pressed in an amused smile.

“You take good care of her,” he said as they watched her slow crawl. “I bet she loves you.”

His tiny, pebble-of-coal heart softened and squeezed, despite his knowing better. “Well - snakes can’t really do that.” At his dates' look, he regurgitated his studying. “They’re instinctive. They can recognize someone as being safe and comfortable, they could even, technically, associate your scent as positive-.” He caught himself, mid-ramble, and cleared his tightening throat. “Simply put, their brains aren’t developed in ways that include emotions.”

“Why does her love need to be an emotion?” he asks. “Even if she can only feel comfort and safety and positivity… doesn’t that make it even more wonderful that she loves you as much as she’s capable?”

Bakura took his gaze from his companion, glancing through the glass. And his girl, his favorite, watched him back with content eyes.

-------

It was a romantic thought, but severely misguided - the kind of misguidance that kills snakes with its kindness. Indulging the thought for evcen a second is what makes Bakura want to kick himself.

He drops another mouse in for Diabound. If anything about him has put her off, it’s not enough to keep her from eating. As long as she’s unbothered, she’ll eat and as long as she eats, she’s fine. As long as she’s fine, he can be fine a little longer.

He wants to reach in and wrap her around him. He’s starved for more than food. But He never touched her. Only watched and tended her food and water. The latter must have been intentional - why else would He insist on doing either Himself.

He sits back on his bed. It’s instinct to be there. It’s where, aside from Diabounds vivarium, they spent their time. The sheets and pillowcases are the only welcome comfort he has left, and only because they smell like Him, like sweetness and dust after rain. The futon couch - most of his apartment, really - smells how absence feels.

When he flops down, his phone juts him in the back. He hisses and wrenches the outdated thing from under him. The time is 10:11 PM. There’s new messages from Malik. None from…

Right. Bakura never got His number.

Bakura never got His name.

-------

“Seems I’ve got your attention now.” Bakura grinned, cheeky as he could muster, folded like a lawn-chair on his own bed.

His lover hummed, stopped over and almost inside him, dark eyes pleasedly drinking him in. “I’m glad to give it,” His lips brushed Bakura’s nose, the sweet lilt of his voice slipping into a low purr that set shivers on Bakura’s skin. “I like taking care of my pets.”

“Am I not your only pet?” Bakura joked.

But his lover didn’t laugh, the playful gleam to his eyes receding. He looked over Bakura with the same appraisal he’d given at the station, as if determining worth.

His hand moved down, taking Bakura by the need. Bakura tensed and gasped and canted his hips. His throat was stricken shut, his body pliant and needy under the slow, spoiling touch.

“I think I’d like you to be.” he asks, with a steady, pretty voice. Bakura was pinned under focused hands and pretty brown eyes - like sinking into warm molasses. Like coiling up on cool ground in dusky autumn. “Do you want to be?”

He smelled a sweet crispness on his lover. He smelled the musk of petrichor.

“Well,” Bakura breathed, languid and labored, a boat over rolling pleasure, “if you treat ‘em all like this…”

-------

The pillows stopped smelling like Him.

It all stopped smelling like Him. One’s flat and course and He was so, so soft. One’s too much, not in the way that He soothed him. The mattress is uncomfortable without another body. The blankets are too hot and don’t keep in the heat, not how He did. Hours and hours and hours pass, but every time Bakura sets his mind blank, his lungs nearly seize with His absence.

He springs up, heads to the front door of his shitty studio apartment and -

Stops.

-------

“I don’t make promises lightly,” he said to Bakura’s skin, lips gently dragging across his forehead. “I promise I’ll be back, quick as I can be. so stay put, pet.”

“Wouldn’t have to if you make calls instead of leave,” Bakura murmured, arms around his lover's waist. He pulled him close, nose brushing at his spine. “I didn’t offer you my phone for charity, I want you to stay in my bed.”

“Oh, you’re precious.” He ran a hand through Bakura’s hair. He was so gentle, and Bakura had leaned in so fully. He half thought they’d both fallen in love. “When everything’s settled, you’ll have however many whatevers you want.”

“Ooh - you do spoil your pets.”

He laughed as Bakura pulled him backwards into his lap. He tilted into a kiss, the pleased hum a welcome tingle across Bakura’s lips.

“Do you want to know something?” He asked, smiling as Bakura brought him close again. Mouth to mouth, he confessed, “you’re going to be the first pet I ever kept.”

-------

“Stay put, pet”

He knew. He knew what He was saying with that - knew Bakura wouldn’t be able to even look at the doorknob without thinking of His voice, of His pretty eyes and the sad little crease that would form if he didn’t stay-

No. Bakura shakes the words off. He reaches for the knob again, twists it tight because he needs to leave. He needs to go and find someone - no, find Him, find Him and make Him explain or undo or just come back so he can eat and sleep and do something with his life again.

“Stay put.”

So, He has to be closeby, doesn’t He? He has to be somewhere that He could easily come back, if He truly thought it wouldn’t be so for long. But not so close that if Bakura leaves and He comes back while he’s gone-

His hand drops from the doorknob.

He’ll never get out of here. He’ll never sleep again. He isn’t coming back and Bakura is going to die trapped and starving and delirious for a stranger, with no way to break down the door-

Not by himself.

Frantic, he opens his phone again. The new messages give him immediate access to Malik’s number. Another chance to call him, to call the only person in Bakura’s periphery that isn’t Him.

He just has to hit the Call button.

Malik [Today, 6:18 AM]: Bakura. I don’t know whether or not this is about what I said last time.

It isn’t. He doubts Malik will believe that. He doubts Malik would believe any of this. But there’s nothing else it could be - Bakura could only drink from what touched His lips. Can’t focus on sleeping where it doesn’t smell or feel like Him. Can’t focus on eating anything He hasn’t touched or wanted. Can’t focus on anything He hasn’t been a part of, his mind slides away like water off a duck -

Like now. He needs to hit the call button.

Malik [Today, 6:26 AM]: I know it wasn’t easy to hear. It wasn’t easy to say either. And I understand you needing space or to ignore me or cut me off or whatever, I _get it_.

He doesn’t. Bakura doesn’t even get it. He doesn’t understand how one question could have ruined everything, of course it was that question. It was the first thing He’d ever said to Bakura and it’s the only reason Bakura would ever agree to get lunch with a stranger, or to bring home a loon like Him. It’s the only reason to tell Him he would steal, that he got caught, that one brush with jail bars meant Diabound didn’t eat for a week, that he swore he would never, never do that to her again-

He needs to hit the Call button.

Malik [Today, 6:31 AM]: But I’m actually starting to _worry_ about your dumb ass, so at least tell me why no one _else_ has seen or heard from you for a week.

Because he’s bewitched by a beautiful boy with a laugh like a siren's song, eyes he could sleep in forever, swans-down hair, who owns his attention like a keepsake. Who plucked it from Bakura’s very hands because He asked Bakura for it. And Bakura gave it to Him fucking gift-wrapped.

Because he hasn’t eaten in days he hasn’t cared to keep track of outside of… however long he’d been without that creature who carries his mind in His pocket. Because nothing of Him is out there and day by day, less of Him is in here. He’s going mad in a fucking cage and it’s going to drive him insane. Because he can’t think of anything but Him, do anything without Him -

So if he can do anything at all, he can put all of his focus into talking. About. Him.

He hits call.

One ring. It’s shrill.

Two rings. It’s a familiar pitch.

Three rings. It’s like when He whined the first time Bakura sucked at His neck.

Four rings. It’s not like it at all, actually, when he thinks more on how -

“Where are you?” Raspy, dazed, and startled, Maliks’ voice filters through. The familiar voice feels alien to his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Home.” He croaks, voice like strained wood. “I’m,” speaking more isn’t better. When did it become so difficult to speak? “I’m at home.”

“Why didn’t you say if you’re okay?” There was rustling, muffling and unmuffling on the other line. “What happened, why do you sound like that?” His voice is strained by movement.

“I - met someone.” Bakura presses the speaker button - he can’t handle this voice to his ear. “He has - he stole my-”

knockknockknockknockknock

Everything freezes. The voice rolling in his head chimes from behind cheap wood.

“Bakura?”

The phone slips from his hands. He hears something from Malik before it’s knocked away by the door swinging open. A body flings against him and he’s enveloped in that familiar warmth, softness, sweetness.

“I’m so sorry,” He whimpers and holds Bakura tighter. “I’m so sorry, it wasn’t supposed to have taken that long, it shouldn’t have taken that long-” He cuts himself off, presses His lips to the space above his ear; Bakura’s thoughts damn near dribble out of his head. “But the cloudy nights meant no moon so the portal couldn’t manifest and I couldn’t-” another kiss, now to his forehead, “get back here when I wanted.” then another, and another after in a dizzying display of apologetic affection. If he wasn’t held so tightly, he’d collapse.

“Portal?” He croaks.

He gasps, pulls Bakura away to take a better look.

And He looks… different.

His teeth were not so sharp before. The ears hadn’t been pointed. And He certainly - last Bakura had seen - had white sclera to His eyes, not the wholly-consuming brownness he sees now. Why does He seem taller when He hasn’t changed at all?

A soft hand raises to his cheek, thumbing beneath his eye. The nail is longer and sharper than the nails he’d felt against his back. “Oh, ‘Kura, you look exhausted.” He says, soft and remorseful. “You must be starving too, poor thing. Come with me, come.”

Leading Bakura by the arm, he takes the half-dozen steps to the bed, where He sits. Too gracefully, His hand slides across the covers, over a pillow. Something shifts - as if the bed came into focus again.

Bakura crumbles onto the mattress and a wafting rightness falls over his body. He smiles, fingers threading his hair like a pelt.

“Before you actually sleep, you should eat.” He takes a bag in hand - Bakura didn’t see it before, did He come in with it? - and sets it at Bakura’s side.

Bakura snatches the parcel as soon as it’s out. He tears the string off and plunges his fingers into the bowl inside. His fingers, becoming sticky with the juices, scramble to forklift pieces into his mouth. Pure, moist sweetness melts on his tongue, along honey-berries and soft pebbles, sweet and tart. Chewing has never felt so good.

“I read that humans digest better when they sit. But you seem so tired, I can’t not let you lie down - I suppose it’s fine this time, we just won’t make it a habit.” He talks nonsense as Bakura guides each bite to his mouth, as quick as he can, as slow as instructed. “It would be best if you ate it all, can you do that?”

As if he needs to be told twice.

“Good pet.” He seems chipper again. “I’ll clean a bit before we start packing for you.” Bakura doesn’t understand - packing? - and He doesn’t explain, just leaves a soft kiss on his forehead. It’s like a mild current to his temple; a warm electric thrum under his skin, numbing the thoughts, the brain. “So eat and rest all you need.” His fingers, slow and calm, run through his hair. Lightly, the tips drag across his cheek. “When you wake, we’ll get you cleaned up and get Dia in her carrier.”

He doesn’t have a strong smell, Bakura notes. He’s just the locus of Bakura’s obsession, having a hold of every sense to its farthest point - his brain disregards everything that isn’t Him as nothing.

At that moment, at every moment, He is everything.

“And once you’re properly settled,” He purrs, “you’ll have my full attention.”

[equalseleventhirds]

Pilgrimage

I made a fun & friendly post about considering all the fates worse than death for a tragedy, and I got to talking to myself about it. Self, I said, if you were asked to write a terrible fate worse than death for these boys, what would it be? Well about that…

 - - -

Georgie hasn’t been to visit Jon since the apocalypse ended. Or, before that probably, she certainly hadn’t been popping in for a cuppa when she was trying to cut him out of her life. But then the world ended, and then unended, and Melanie has been insisting on having him around for dinner, or to go on a shopping trip, or just to visit the Admiral. Because they’re friends. Because this is what friends do: meet up, talk, and make sure their other friends aren’t alone.

Melanie’s been to visit Jon. Georgie hadn’t gone with her.

The… place where he lives is too creepy, she thinks. It was probably creepy back when Smirke built it, it was extra creepy when it was some impossible tower, and it’s still creepy now, even if it’s fallen down to earth. The Eye’s tower.

-

“So this is it? The Panopticon, or whatever?” Georgie felt Melanie’s hand shaking, and tightened her grip.

“…yes. I’m afraid so.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “See what I said about him being ominous?”

-

Jon opens the door before she knocks. It’s either some remnant of power in him, or he’d been watching out the window after Melanie called him. Georgie doesn’t ask.

“Hey, Jon.”

“Georgie. Hi.”

She steps inside, then stops. “Shoes on or off?”

“Oh, er… on. I haven’t quite finished cleaning all the… Shoes are probably better on.”

-

Jon was panting, standing over the nearly-empty chair where Jonah Magnus once sat. Martin laid a hand on his arm. “You did it, Jon. He’s gone.”

“That’s it? All done? You killed the big bad guy, so the apocalypse ends?”

He barely even winced at her tone. “It’s—I don’t think it’s going to be quite that simple—”

“Then why are we here—”

-

“Melanie sends her love, by the way.”

“Does she?”

“Yes.” She holds his gaze as levelly as she can. He just grins at her, holding his hand palm-out until she rolls her eyes and reaches into her bag. “Fine, and she sends her latest batch of halwa.”

“Thank you,” he says, plucking the container out of her hand and immediately popping it open to try a piece. “Mm… you can tell her she’s almost as good as my grandmother now.”

Georgie can’t hold back her laugh at that, short and disbelieving and a laugh, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever accomplish here. “Your grandmother always bought halwa at the store, you told me so—”

“Ah, yes. But I haven’t told Melanie, have I?”

“Jonathan Sims!”

-

It hurt. She’d thought she was immune to fear, to the fears, and maybe she was, to smaller ones. Normal ones. Real ones. But every ounce of impossible, enormous Fear that had clawed its way into their universe was bearing down on the tower at once, and Georgie wasn’t afraid, but it hurt.

“What now? What do we do? Jon, Jon, what happened, what do we do?”

“I…” She could see a trickle of blood coming from his nose… his eye… Hadn’t Martin said Jon couldn’t See anything about the Fears? Was that what he was trying to do? “I think… we can still stop it, maybe, but it’s… the tower, Jonah’s throne…”

“What do we have to do?”

-

They make it through about an hour, sharing out the halwa between them and chatting, about the books Jon finally has time to read, about the podcasts Georgie’s gotten Melanie into, about the really huge rug Jon’s planning to order when he gets everything cleaned up enough. It’s… it isn’t normal, but nothing’s really ever going to be normal again, is it? But it’s almost nice.

Except then she has to go and say the halwa’s made her thirsty (and it is sweet and dense and perfect, Melanie did an amazing job and she’s going to rat Jon out as soon as she gets home, and Georgie really cannot eat something that sweet at her age without something to wash it down). And then Jon gets up to make tea. And stops at the cupboard, and pulls out three mugs.

He doesn’t look at her, keeps his eyes on the kettle, on the mugs, on the tea bags, on his hands. But eventually he says, low but clear: “Whenever I make tea, I. Um. Bring some to him. He can’t really drink it, but it helps me feel better.”

And what can she say to that?

-

Jon stared at the seat, the throne, horror dawning on his face. She could tell—they all could tell—that he Knew what to do. He just had to tell them.

Martin grabbed his arm, shook him, spun him around to look at them. “Jon. I know this is—hard, for you. But what do we need to do?”

“Not us. Me. What I need to do. Someone touched by the eye, and who more than me?” He was biting at his lips, and she recognized the rhythm, from when he was stressed from essay after essay and trying to calm himself. “I have to take his seat. There has to be a king.”

“If there’s a king—” Melanie’s voice was strained, from the fear or the Fear, and Georgie tightened her grip again “—then wouldn’t it just be the same? Someone ruling over this, this ‘ruined world’?”

Jon was already shaking his head. “No, not if it’s now. Not if it’s someone who wants to stop it. Dream logic, remember? Except.”

“Except?” Melanie prompted.

“Except they won’t be able to leave. They’ll be—be trapped in the fear forever. In everyone’s fears, forever. Like I was, with the dreams, but for seven billion people—”

Georgie couldn’t help the gasp at that. “The dreams like we—with you watching all the time—”

“—or, more like our journey here, when we went through all those domains,” he continued, as if he couldn’t hear her. Maybe he couldn’t, with all his attention locked on Martin, drinking him in like it would be the last time he ever saw his face. “Because, because it’s here, and I said—Martin, I told you at the beginning, the eye can’t see inside itself, so I’d be—”

“Alone,” Martin whispered. “Always watching, and alone.”

-

She goes with him. Of course she goes with him. On some level, that’s what this visit has been about—seeing Jon, sure, but also seeing… Martin.

Martin is the whole reason Jon’s here, after all. Living in the ruins of the Panopticon. Living at all.

Georgie doesn’t look away. Doesn’t wait in the other room (the little living space Jon had made with curtains and boxes and a folding divider Melanie found for him), safe and ignorant. She knows Jon wouldn’t blame her. Might encourage her, if she brought it up, even if she said she had to go.

She thinks she might blame herself if she did.

It’s still difficult to stand there and watch without some kind of distraction, though, so she does bring her tea with her.  Bobs the bag up and down (Jon remembers she likes to leave it in even after she adds sugar and milk, like some kind of monster, he’d teased back in uni, before that word became so damn loaded), clinks the spoon against the side.

She’s trying not to stare, but there’s not a lot else to look at, besides… there’s not a lot else to look at. He must have brought that little end table in here pretty soon after moving in, set it up next to the chair with a lamp and a book and… a pillow on the floor next to it.

She doesn’t ask.

Now Jon sets the third mug down and carefully, carefully pries Martin’s hand off the arm of the chair, pushes his fingers to curl around the mug, guides them down together to the table. He keeps one hand on the mug, like he’s afraid Martin will move suddenly and spill it. Maybe it’s happened before.

There’s only so long she can avoid looking, of course. And Martin looks… a lot like the last time she saw him, just after the end of the end of the world. Very, very still, sitting upright, although Jon’s gotten him some cushions and a blanket since then. His eyes are still wide, too wide, and staring at nothing. At everything. At everything but what matters.

And his lips are slowly, slowly moving.

-

“But why does it have to be you! It’s always you! The whole world is touched by the Eye now, isn’t it? Can’t it be—I wanted you to—”

“I’m—I ended the world, Martin, it’s only right I fix it.” He was pleading now. “I just—Martin, please.” Jon reached up, curling his hand around the back of Martin’s neck, and pulled him down until their lips just brushed.

He closed his eyes, and Georgie wanted to look away, leave them this one last moment together. She’d be glad, later, that she didn’t, that she kept watching, watched them kiss, watched their tears, watched Jon break away and head towards the chair. Watched Martin grab him and push him away, taking the seat himself.

“Martin, no—”

Martin turned his head, slow, so slow, smiling one last time at Jon. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”

-

“Is he… talking?” She moves closer, squinting. “What… what’s he saying?”

Jon smiles, brushing his thumb over Martin’s slow-moving lips. “The same things he said to people in the apocalypse, of course. No matter how many times I told him they couldn’t hear him.”

And Georgie can see it now, the minute shapes, forming words as familiar as any casual conversation.

Excuse me�� Sorry about this… How are you?… You’ll get through this… Just hang on… Hi there…

- - -

End notes: Every once in a while (not every night, bcos he has 7 billion ppl to get through), if someone were to look at the unchanging body of Martin Blackwood, and if they were good at reading lips, that someone might be able to see him talking one Jonathan Sims through his fear dreams. Of course, no one does see that; the only person who’s close enough would be asleep at the time.

[serialreblogger]

some of your post/reblogs were so relatable to me that more and more I think I may have ADHD (I'm like, at least 70% sure of this and the 30% is me searching for a psychiatrist/therapist that I can trust/afford, anyway) so, since your how to essay post Im talking myself to ask if you have some study tips or tips to focus, anything to help, really. I'm in college and I can't focus to read 2 paragraphs which makes me anxious and makes me procrastinate because I can't study and I HAVE to study so I avoid everything but then I think NOW I have even less time to study and I got stuck in this circle. And because I can't read anything I also cant bullshit my way writing papers that I have to so I don't do this too, so I'm just spiraling more and more with this which also doesn't help with the depression. And I'm so, so SORRY to dump my problems on you (this isn't my intention here) but if you have some tips or don't mind talking about what you do to study I really appreciate it with all my heart.

oh friend, i’m so sorry to hear you’re goin through that, it’s EXTREMELY relatable tho. everything you just wrote basically sums up my entire first year of university (just add in a couple dozen spiralling panic attacks on the basement floor and you’ll be me), and while i wish i had advice i could promise would solve the issue, i don’t... know? that i would recommend doing exactly what i did? because while i made it through university with ridiculously good grades, i also exacerbated a pre-existing anxiety disorder to the point where i literally could not bear being alive for a while there.

but for whatever it’s worth, and bearing in mind that you need to prioritize your own well-being WAY above whatever grades you get on a stupid piece of paper, here’s some tips on how to get through course readings, based on what i’ve learned through blood, tears, trial and error:

don’t read the full two paragraphs, to start. ADHD makes reading academic articles hell, but (and i genuinely don’t know if this is possible for anyone else, the chemical cocktail of debilitating anxiety that was my brain at the time made me do things i otherwise couldn’t and definitely shouldn’t) i did manage to finagle a way to make it work for me.

See, the thing about academic papers is that they’re very nicely organized. every paragraph is dedicated to making an individual point, which is introduced at the beginning and summarized, more or less, towards the end. this means you can get a very handy-dandy trick, because here’s the thing about ADHD brains: we’re VERY GOOD at making connections.

so here’s the trick: you don’t actually have to read the paragraphs. Not the full ones, anyway.

Let’s break it down:

First, what is the overall reading meant to address? What’s the title of the book or article? Is there a heading or subtitle to provide you with extra information?

Second, what is the thesis statement in your paragraph? Yes, every essay has a thesis statement, but every paragraph also has a specific point to make, which is stated in a sort of mini-thesis, typically right at the beginning.

Once you know this thesis statement, the rest of the paragraph is just fleshing out and providing evidence for that statement. You can keep reading if you need more information to understand what the author’s getting at, but once you’ve got that thesis statement, the rest is just there to get in your way.

For neurotypicals, I think, it’s maybe necessary to read this stuff all the way through? I don’t know. What I do know is that, for ADHDers, we tend to be very, very good at making extrapolations from very minimal information, based on all the surrounding context.

You don’t need to do the full readings. You just need to read the first sentence, process what it’s saying, and skip over the rest.

(if the first sentence of the paragraph is nonsense to you, don’t panic. often the first sentence or even the whole introductory paragraph is intentionally confusing, so if there’s something you don’t understand, disregard it and move on to the second sentence, or the next paragraph.

this happens often, because a lot of academic writing is just a power play on the part of the writer. “Look How Smart I Am Compared To You, You Have To Work So Hard To Figure Out What I’m Saying,” etc. Don’t buy it, tho--the true measure of intelligence isn’t how thoroughly you can confuse someone else, it’s how effectively you can share the knowledge you have. Intelligence is useless if you can’t share it.

Do whatever you can to make it through essential readings, but don’t be intimidated by them. If you can’t understand them, it’s not because you aren’t “smart enough,” it’s because they’re badly written.)

Final notes: this process is meant to walk you through reading papers, but it also lowkey applies to a lot of insurmountable tasks in academia.

You look at a 5-page paper, look at your attention span, and immediately despair because yeah, that’s impossible. The solution is not to expand your attention span, because that’s also impossible. So, instead, don’t look at the 5 pages.

Look at an impossible task, and break it down into its smallest pieces.

Don’t look at the 5 pages, don’t even look at the first two paragraphs. Make a plan for how reading a single paragraph might be possible for you (in this case, break the paragraph down into its own components, and skim over most of them in favour of reading only the most necessary portions). Then focus on finding those one or two sentences you need in the very first paragraph. That’s doable.

You do that, and then you move onto the next.

It’s extremely difficult, especially for ADHDers, to limit your mental vision to the most immediate task and stop looking at the big picture, but it’s also necessary. If you can find a way to make the smallest tasks possible for you, you can break the big, impossible ones down until they’re made of tiny chores. You can do tiny chores. You can read one sentence, take five minutes to process it, but you can read it. That’s all you need to be able to do.

Read one sentence. Skip the rest. Move on to the next paragraph. Repeat.

That’s the real secret, the one that got me through university. It’s impossible to complete a biology lab, it’s impossible to read this entire interminable textbook, so don’t think about the impossible tasks. Think about the single step directly in front of you, focus entirely on that, and eventually, the impossible tasks will be done.

(The other thing I recommend is not taking a full courseload. Please, please, please make sure that in addition to getting your schoolwork done, you also have enough time left over for you to truly relax, and not feel guilty for doing so. If you’re getting intrusive thoughts halfway through an essay, but instead of terrible things you’re thinking about your latest favourite TV show and feel like your brain is thirsty to watch it? You’re working too hard. Take it from someone who ignored their own mental needs until it wrecked them past the point of continuing--burnout is not fun, and you deserve to protect yourself from it. Take it slow. Your wants are just as important as your needs, and both are way more important than your schoolwork.)

[diversesocietynaj-blog]

I’m finna break down the starting line-up and 6th man for the colors women utilize on their nails and toes.

THE NAIL-TOE POLISH INFINITY STONES

What it do? It’s been a few years since ya boy been here but I’m back like I never left. Today I’m gonna talk about the colors the womenz use on their nails and toes and break down what that color means. If you reading this, take mental notes, because this can save you from getting involved in a terrible situation. And btw, no, I do not suck toes I just cherish and appreciate a woman that take care of them shits. Now that that’s out the way, let’s get started.

1st. At point Guard, we have the white toes. No matter what your ethnicity is, no matter how bright, dark, pale, or tanned your skin is, white toes is undefeated. When processed and layered correctly, there’s no way white toes will fail you. White toes will have a beat shorty move up a couple ranks when you see them out and about. Me, I’m picky, but I know it’s a lot of savage heathens out there that doesn’t care about a thing. This here is your tesseract from Marvel’s “Captain America,The First Avenger. The first toe infinity gem. This doesn’t mean all white toes are going to be fire. Make sure you fellows check for the knicks and scratches, (and try to do it before she blurts it out) too. Nah boo-boo, you ain’t finna get off just cause you said it out loud before my eyes shifted down to them thangs. I’m finna fire you up in front of everyone so you know not to make this mistake again. When the toes white, you gotta do hourly checks, set some alarms on your phone or something. Keep them in top shape at all times. White toes are usually a great sign, everything is in tact, shorty isn’t crazy, although I was wrong maybe 2 times out of a million, those are still OK numbers, right?

2nd. French tips. Like white toes, I have yet to see any misses with this wave. This wave looks even better when you have one of them jobs that require you to dress business-savvy. Spanish women are undefeated with the French tips. A miss has never been reported. Bro. I was watching the Selena movie, with J-Lo...funny thing, I wasn’t even looking at J-Lo(we know her stance is solidified out here) but her fan-club president Yolanda that killed her (RIP) had the French tips in one scene. Now, Yolanda isn’t someone you’d normally talk about, but the fact that it caught my eye on HER, powerful. That is why this is your power infinity stone. Spanish women will forever hold the belt when it comes to the French tips.

3rd. But before that, RIP KOBE. So, my small forward is going to have to go to matte black. Buuuuut☝🏾, it’s one of them colors you have to pull off correctly. You can’t have matte black the same length of time you would have the white or French tips. It just doesn’t go right with every single thing. For example, casual events requiring y’all to wear dresses, and you have yellow or pink or one of them fluorescent colors, matte black shouldn’t be your choice of color for the nails and tosies B. I’m not saying it’ll look awful, but you can come better than that. That’s going to throw the vibes completely off. Come in here looking like that, I’m gonna have to assume that Lil Peep’s greatest hits is heavy in your rotation (RIP) . Nah, I’m good. How deceiving the matte black can be, this is your mind stone, held by the one and only Loki, the irony!😂

4th, we have our power forward: yellow. This the color for our Nubian queens. But I will say, all ethnicities can pull this off, but In this category the Spanish delegation comes in last. But it’s not a bad last, it looks good on y’all! It’s just that it’s so close to your complexion, it look like y’all got extendos on y’all fingers. Like why you and Lord Voldemort got the same hand size shorty? You out here palming basketballs and shit. I’m good. White women can pull this off for sure but black women crushes the competition for this one. Dark skin or light. Sometimes It can fail the Lightskin complexion cause it’ll put you in the same boat with the Spanish women. But it’s not a complete failure, it’ll still look good. And it’s super dope on darkskin women cause it brings out light on top of the dark chocolate beauty. I do have my worries with the yellow colored warriors though. From my experience, the girl was either sidity or conceited. That’s not fact that’s from my experience, again. Yellow toed girls the type to want to showcase on every single social media platform the same pic over and over again for likes and thirsty folks to comment just making their heads bigger. The look is there but what it means, makes you want to think about the risk you’re about to take. Think long and hard on it Kings. Black women for the win, so it’s only right this is our soul stone.

At the 5, we have teal. Slept on but very dominant!! Teal one of them colors that’s gonna always catch your attention. Definitely held down by the white women, and they crush it every time. It’s more of a summer, beach type wave, but believe me, if it’s December and it’s 6 inches of snow on the ground and the nails and toes teal, I will not be mad at you..not one bit. This isn’t fact but my outlook on it, teal one of them sneaky colors. You don’t think about it but when you see it, you like oooh shit. Makes you think about the girl, right? Who knows what tricks she might have up her sleeve. I’m still doing my studies and research on teal as the days goes by but this one is in the air. I gotta hit a gym or a Starbucks and gather some more data for my lab. Since I have to play the guess game at the moment with this one, by default this is the reality stone.

* I am only allowed 10 GIFs per post and I am out so just know the picture for 6th man is Jamal Crawford and the last stone is the Time stone.*

For our 6th man, off the bench, helping contribute to the cause is orange. Orange, like the first 2 is elite with ANY nationality. Black white Spanish Asian...wait..

*I feel like I have to do this. Asian woman run the whole nail game in general. 9x out of 10 they the ones making sure your nails and toes right, and making sure it’s not a miss in sight! I have never seen an Asian girl with fucked up, chipped, or scratched nails. They shit be flawless! I went to a grade school that was predominantly black and Asian. I remember around that time when girls were trying to get right and doing nails themselves, the Asian girls would come in cruuuuushing shit. 😂😂😂 I HAD to give y’all the special shout-out out, you are appreciated for taking care of the womenz. Back to business.*

I feel like if her nails are orange, it’s an indicator that she is shy, nervous, etc. You gotta watch how you approach them, you just tryna get shorty number and next thing you know she put the supreme vice grip on her purse. The heel cadence is picking up faster and faster. Abort mission bro. If you know like I know, dip! You wasting your time, which is why this is the time stone.

I don’t trust red polish at all. No matter your ethnicity, nationality, religion, political stance.. shit, if you family and come to the reunion with it, I ain’t believing nothing you tell me. But red just got that I’m flirty, I can do bad and not care, I know I’m the shit, I’ll put a knife to your balls while your sleep type vibe. I ain’t with it. It’s overrated also.

Aight yall, that’s it, when you see those colors remember what I said. And remember, in “life goes on” with Lil Baby and Lil Uzi Vert, Gunna said “I like when that white on her toes.” Game over.

And I wish one of y’all would try to say this post racist or anything of that nature. I’ve had black, white, Asian, Spanish and Native American toes twiddling on my lap before you made it to first base. I don’t see color.

IG: Heartbreak_buck

Twitter: najBUCK_

💔💸

[supersickies]

Summary: “It went without saying that getting bitten by a radioactive spider had its perks.

But apparently a cure for the common cold wasn’t one of them.”

-

College final exam season leaves Peter sick with a nasty cold, and on his wonderful girlfriend Michelle's first day of her summer internship too. Now it's up to mama Pepper and little sis Morgan to nurse their favorite spiderling back to health.

A/N: This was intended to be a little drabble based on a post I saw (I can’t find it for the life of me but once I do I’ll reblog it asap) but it ended up being a 5k+ fic of sweet sick Peter and his mess of a family. I couldn’t help it I love them all too much. You can read it on Ao3 or under the cut! Whatever what works for you!

Spider-Man can, in fact, catch a cold. This was something that Peter was surprised, yet annoyed to discover. Before the bite, Peter was a sickly, asthmatic, all around fragile kid, and while it wasn’t something that he was exactly confident about he never let it crush his spirit. However, that didn’t mean that as soon as the spider bite rid his body of all his past ailments Peter wasn’t overjoyed. He could finally run a mile without having to stop a quarter of the way through or eat a PB&J without having to instantly call an ambulance. It went without saying that getting bitten by a radioactive spider had its perks.

But apparently a cure for the common cold wasn’t one of them.

He and Mr. Stark discovered this about a year after he was bitten when he had come down with a nasty case of bronchitis that had him hacking all over the compound for four days. Since then Peter was bound to catch a bug here and there, much like he used to before the bite just less severe. It was harder for him to catch things as well, his immune system was usually a force to be reckoned with, unless for any reason Peter was not at “peak Spidey performance” as Mr. Stark would say.

Which leads us to now, a mere 24 hours after the last final exam of his junior year at Columbia, Peter was laid in bed suffering through what he would consider the nastiest cold he’d ever had.

It was barely after sunrise, the clock reading a taunting 5:30, and Peter doing everything he could not to sneeze. With deep, even, wheezy, breaths, the spider-boy was using all his strength to keep the sneeze at bay for one reason. MJ. His lovely, wonderful, amazing Michelle who was starting her first day of her summer internship at nine and would massacre Peter if he woke her up before her alarm. The girl loved her sleep, and Peter would be damned if he deprived her of it.

Think of anything else Peter, literally anything. Remember that big biker guy you helped on patrol the other week? He was pretty nice…oh god it iiihhtches…no, enough Peter, biker guy. Right he had that cool jacket with the patches, I bet I could pull off a leather jacket. Maybe put a spidey patch on the back? Fun…cool…really gotta sneeze. Ugh, FUCK! Okay, okay maybe if you just do that pinch-y sneeze, like Ned and Natasha do…heh imagine Ned knowing he had the same sneeze as Black Widow, he’d flip. Ehh..fuhhhhuck okay thats it, pinch-y sneeze please don’t fail me.

With a shaky hand Peter pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, the motion instantly making his nose tickle more and within seconds Peter was attempting, and failing, to stifle his sneeze.

And it failed hard.

The sneeze was stronger than it seemed and instead of being held back and becoming a noiseless stifle, it came out louder than it should have as it scraped the back of his throat, causing barking coughs to escape as well.

Well everyone, bid him farewell, this will be the day that Peter Parker meets his untimely demise. He instantly feels MJ stir against him with a groan. She was up, oh god sound the alarm she was awake.

“P’ter? That you?” She slurs, sleep lacing her voice.

“Umb, yeah. Sorry embjay I didn’d mbean to sndeeze.” God how he wished his could blow his nose, but he was not going to poke the bear any further.

It was quiet for a moment, Peter knew that he was in danger. MJ was plotting how she was going to murder him and it was only a matter of time before she-

“You feeling okay, baby?” Her angelic voice rings as she turns to face him on the bed. “You sound terrible.”

It was like music to Peter’s ears. He would live to see another day! He was almost shocked, she didn’t even pepper in the classic “loser” nickname. She was concerned. Wait, did he really sound that bad? Should he be concerned?

Peter clears his throat before responding. “I-I thingk I’mb combing down with sombthing. I’mb sorry I’ll try to be quieter.” A wet sniffle concludes his sentence. Damn it he really wants a tissue.

Almost as if MJ could read minds, she places a soft white Kleenex into his hand. “Blow your nose, Pete. I’m gonna go get the humidifier, you’re way too congested.”

“O-Oh, okay. Thangk you Emmby.” He uses her absence to sit up a little and expel the nasty gunk from his sinuses. He still can’t completely breathe, but it’s better than it was before. MJ comes back into the room moments later, carrying the chunky machine. The water inside of it sloshes a bit as she set’s it on Peter’s bedside table but as soon as she plugs it into the wall, a warm soft mist starts flowing from its lid. Peter can’t tell a difference now, but he knows it’ll make a difference the longer it runs.

Satisfied with how the humidifier is working, Michelle sits beside Peter on the bed and looks at him quizzically. “How’d you get so sick?” She questions, her fingertips reaching to brush Peter’s bed head away from his eyes. His forehead moderately warm, but it doesn’t feel like anything that provokes worry.

He hums at her soft touch but shrugs his shoulders at her question. “Don’t kdnow,” He presses the tissue to his nose as it starts running, the humidifier must be working. “I felt fidne yesterday. Mbaybe kinda tired but ndot sick.”

“You know what it probably is?” Michelle says. “All those nights up late studying, not to mention all that trash food you ate-“

“What is this, mbake fun of your poor sick boyfriend day?” He gives a wet coughs for emphasis, and because he really needed to cough.

“Sorry sicky,” She giggled. “what I’m saying is that you had a long hard week and you weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself. No shame in it, I mean, it happens to everyone but I think your body is so used to you eating well and exercising often that as soon as you stopped your immune system freaked out.

Clearing his throat, Peter nods. “I guess that mbakes sense.” He looks down with a sigh, thinking of all the things he was scheduled to do today. “I better call Todny and tell him I can’t combe in to the lab.” He sighs and reaches for his phone but MJ intercepts.

“First you’re going to go back to sleep until a reasonable hour. It’s almost 6 a.m. Parker, and my alarm goes off at 8, so I’d like a few more hours of rest.” She jabs, pulling the covers up to his chin and kissing him softly on the cheek. “And you definitely need the beauty sleep.”

Peter chuckles at that, which only lead to more hacking coughs. MJ softly pats his back until the coughs subside. With a tsk she tucks him into bed once more before rounding the bed to lay back down on her side. “Rest, I’ll let you know when I’m about to head to work.”

With his eyes closed and his breathing only slightly less congested, thank you humidifier, he smiles contently. “Thank you Emmby, love you.”

“Love you too, snotty.”

Peter wakes again to a kiss on the forehead and the scent of strong perfume making his nose tickle. Before he even opens his eyes, he curls in on himself and muffles three sneezes into his pillow. Ugh, gross. He opens his bleary eyes to see MJ smoothing out her work outfit in their full length mirror. She looks amazing as usual, Peter notes, but her perfume is strong. Or maybe he’s just way too sensitive, a super cold and super senses probably don’t mix well. Without warning, two more sneezes barrel out and he barely has time to cover them. With a groan he sniffles thickly and reaches for the tissue box conveniently placed on his bedside table. He get a warm and fuzzy feeling as he realizes MJ had put them there for him, as they weren't there when he had woken up earlier. It’s the little things. He blows his nose, which get’s MJ’s attention.

She glances over to him with a smile. “Good morning, again.”

“Good mbornding, you look ambazindg.” He rasps, a goofy smile painting his face.

MJ breathes out a laugh at her dopey boyfriend. “Thank you, dork. How’re you feeling?”

He snuggles deeper into the bed, closing his eyes again and coughing weakly. “Call a physiciand,” Peter jokes in a congested and bad British accent. He throws a hand over his forehead for good measure. “I believe it mbay be the plague.”

MJ snorts a laugh at her boy’s dramatics. “Okay, you sickly child king.”

Her heels clack against the hardwood floor of the bedroom as she steps over to where he lies in their bed. As she sits on the bed, her soft hand cups his forehead and then his cheek. “You’re soft.” He mumbles, leaning into her touch.

“And you are running a bit of a fever.” She rubs her thumb sweetly over his cheek before standing back up. She tells him to sit tight and goes to the bathroom to grab a digital thermometer. She returns to find him dozing so she gently brushes his hair back to get his attention. He lifts his eyes to see the thermometer in her hand and opens his mouth just wide enough that she can slip the device under his tongue. “Give that a minute.”

MJ walks out of the room a moment later and Peter hears running water from the kitchen. The thermometer beeps right before she reenters, ice water with a straw in hand. Peter didn’t realize until he saw it just how thirsty he was. He stares at her lovingly as she takes the thermometer from between his lips. “Are you a mbind reader?” He asks, only semi-joking as he sits up slightly to sip the water.

Michelle scoffs lightly. “You bet your ass I am.” She jokes looking down at the medical tool. “Hm, 100.8. Not horrendous but I don’t love it.” Once again she’s gone, this time to the bathroom where Peter hears more water running, making him want to take another sip of his water. He sighs as the cool drink soothes his dry throat. MJ strides back to the bed with a damp face towel folded in half. When she starts to dab Peter’s forehead with the cool cloth he can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes him. She stops. “You alright?”

Her boyfriend just nods, opening his eyes to look up at her with a small smile. “Feels good. Cold.” He explains. She smiles back at him, taking the cup of water from his hands so he can lay back down. She continues to wipe his brow with the towel and doesn’t stop until a snore leaves his mouth. MJ can’t help the giggle that bubbles up, but to be fair she’s never heard Peter snore before and right now he was quite a sight to see. His hair was sticking up at all angles, even in his reclined position, his nose nearing a shade of bright red, and his mouth open just wide enough that the tiny snores were heard.

She couldn’t help but snap a quick picture to send to Tony.

MJ:

your favorite little mentee won’t be in today…Spidey caught the sniffles : /

Old Man Stark:

Wow he looks rough, you have your internship today?

MJ:

yep first day

dont wanna leave him like this tho

Old Man Stark:

Don’t stress, this is a big day for you. I have meetings all day but Pep would be more than happy to stop by and make sure all is well.

Morgan too

She’s in her “wanting to be a doctor” phase

MJ:

you trying to say she cant be a doctor, stark?

Old Man Stark:

Good lord of course not

The kid is smarter than me and she’s barely 11

I’m just saying wasn’t there a point in your life when you wanted to be a doctor too?

MJ:

yeah of course

Old Man Stark:

And you’re now getting a degree in…?

MJ:

journalism

Old Man Stark:

so…

MJ:

i could be a doctor if i wanted to

Old Man Stark:

I know

And thats why you terrify me

MJ:

>:-)

Old Man Stark:

Go to work!

Let us take care of Peter and we’ll keep you updated as you break into the great big world of being a working adult.

MJ:

:P thanks T-Star

Old Man Stark:

Don’t call me T-Star.

Michelle pockets her phone and grabs her computer bag that’s packed and ready in the living room. Quickly she takes out a stray piece of paper and jots down a quick note for her boy just incase he wakes up alone.

Petey,

Had to get to the office (wish me luck lol) but Pepper and Morgan should be by soon. Please don’t die while I’m gone. I’ll be pissed if you do that. Wash your hands, blow your nose, and don’t leave used tissues on the bed that’s gross. Love you. Feel better.

-M

Satisfied, she leaves the note under the tissue box, gives him one last kiss on the forehead, and makes her way out the door. But not before sending Morgan that goofy picture of Peter.

MJ:

here

use this as blackmail

tell him you’ll post it on insta next time he says he won’t take you to mcdonalds

Mo Mo Stark:

HAHAHAHAHAHA

Peter wakes to his front door closing and whispering coming from the living room. He panics for a moment before realizing that the voices belonged to Pepper and Morgan. As the fan blows above him, he hears a piece of paper flutter next to him. With a shaky hand he grabs it and reads over the note that MJ had left for him. He cant help but blush, just at the thought of his girlfriend. He wonders how her first day is going. He misses her a lot. Then he realizes his fever must of gone up, as he definitely wasn’t this emotionally fragile when he had gone to sleep.

With a yawn, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed and grabs the quilt at the end and wraps it around his around his shoulders. With a huff he slides off the bed and makes his way to the living room. He finds Pepper setting grocery bags down on the kitchen island and Morgan already situated in front of the TV, some YouTube vlog video playing over the speakers.

“Morgan Hope, turn that down before you wake your broth-“ Pepper stops when she notices Peter standing in the doorway. “Oh, afternoon sweetheart! Did Morgan wake you? I’m so sorry I told her to quiet down-“

“Pep, it’s okay, I actually woke up whend you guys walked ind.” He rasps, congestion still heavy in his horse voice.

“Oh honey you sound awful, come on now, on the couch. You shouldn’t be up.” Pepper says, guiding him with a hand on his back to the couch. Morgan scoots a bit to make room for her big brother.

“Hi, Dr. Mborgand, you brindg any of the good drugs today?” Peter jokes, making the girl roll her eyes.

“Mom, Peter says he on drugs. He needs to detox stat. Get me an IV with glutathione, vitamin C, and vitamin B.” The youngest Stark states.

Her mother sighs as she returns to the kitchen. “Alright, that’s enough Discovery Life for you. Why can’t you just watch Disney Channel like a normal eleven year old.” Pepper mumbles as she starts taking items out of the grocery bags.

Peter and Morgan just giggle, which leads to a coughing fit from Peter. Morgan’s tiny hand pats his back as he hacks into his elbow, he murmurs an apology as the coughs taper off.

“You need to lay down Petey, and you need tissues.” Morgan articulates as she stands and looks around the apartment.

Clearing his throat, Peter points to the bedroom. “There should be sombe tissues by mby bed…if you could grab those that’d be ndice.”

Morgan nods confidently and makes her way to the bedroom. Seconds later she reemerges with the tissue box in hand and places them in the crook of Peter’s arm.

“Thangk you doctor.” Peter smiles, causing Morgan to smile in return.

“You’re welcome!” The girl returns to her spot on the couch and presses play on the video she was watching. It was vlog about makeup, Peter assumed, as the YouTuber was covered in a very impressive, glossy, look and was showing off makeup pallettes. Peter watches as the video cuts and suddenly the makeup artist is bare faced and begins to work on the look they had previewed in the intro.

Pepper chuckles as she approaches the couch, mug of hot tea with lemon and honey in hand. She hands the cup to Peter, who is drowsily watching the makeup being applied. “You don’t have to watch this you know.” Pepper whispers to him. “This is your apartment and you’re sick, turn on whatever you want.”

Taking a sip of the tea, humming as it soothes his sore-ish throat, Peter shakes his head. “Ndo, this is awesombe, look at how precise he is with the brush. Oh, thangks for the tea…also.” Pepper chuckles more, kissing the boy on the top of the head, and leaving him with Morgan to watch some internet celebrity do a perfect line with their liquid eyeliner.

Pepper had called May in the morning after hearing from Tony that Peter wasn't feeling well, knowing the boys aunt would have all the inside knowledge on how to care for a sick Peter. It wasn’t as if Pepper had never seen Peter sick, though. Since Tony had introduced them to each other way back before Morgan was even a thought, Peter had spent some sick days in the tower, the compound, and even one or two in the lake house. Yes, Pepper had seen a sick Peter Parker in her lifetime, however this was the first time she was his sole caretaker. However, after the quick call to the boy’s aunt, Pepper had a pretty good idea of how to care for the sick Spiderling.

“Oh for a cold?” May had responded. “Simple, grilled cheese and tomato soup for every meal, he’ll probably want to watch Parks and Rec all day, oh and he has Tony’s old MIT hoodie in his closet and he always wears it when he’s not feeling well.”

Pepper smiled at that. When Peter decided to stay in New York for college, for family and spider-y reasons, it was no secret that Tony had been a little disappointed. No, Tony hadn’t done anything special to get Peter into MIT, honestly because he didn’t have too. Peter’s grades and test scores were good enough on their own, but he still would have loved to have seen the kid at his alma mater. When Peter had told him of his college decision, scared out of his mind might he add, Tony just hugged and told him he was proud of him. Tony reassured the kid that where ever he went to school was fine by him and that he’d support him the whole way through. “I am going to need that MIT sweatshirt back” Tony had joked, waiting to be met by a “shut up Tony” or an eye roll, but instead he was met with tears— big fat ones that welled up in Peter’s eyes. Tony was quick to see he had messed up and it took about twenty minutes to reassure the boy that he didn't want the sweatshirt back and that “of course I still love you Peter”. Since then Peter has kept the garment close to him at all times, just incase Tony ever thought about taking it.

Pepper goes to Peter’s closet, instantly spotting the faded maroon hoodie and taking it off of the hanger. Both he and Morgan are still mesmerized by the YouTube video, but they glance up when Pepper walks over again. Peter’s eyes light up at the sight of the hoodie in her hands. He’s close to making grabby hands for it but she hands it to him first. He puts it on and settles back down onto the couch. “Thangk you Pep.”

“Keep it safe, can’t have Tony snatching it.” She jabs as she walks back to the kitchen to start the grilled cheese.

Peter, though thoroughly invested in the new makeup video Morgan put on, can’t help but doze off as the ambient sounds of his apartment lull him to sleep. He hears a shuffling on the couch next to him and opens one of his eyes, seeing Morgan giggling at him. “Can I braid your hair Petey?” She whispers. In true college kid fashion, Peter had let his hair grow out a little bit, and while it wasn’t long enough to braid it all together, Morgan liked to do tiny braids with tufts of his hair for fun.

Turning onto his side away from Morgan, giving her better access to his hair, Peter chuckles at his little sister. “Go for it Mborgie, mbake mbe beautiful.”

With a squeal of delight, the eleven year old Stark pulls tiny hair-ties out of her pocket and gets to work. Peter, who had always loved having his hair played with, lets the braiding put him right to sleep after only a few tiny braids were done.

If Morgan laughed at the snores that came from Peter moments later, she didn't tell him. He did let her braid half his head, anyway.

The rest of the day passes in a sleepy haze for Peter. He remembers waking up a few moments after falling asleep on the couch. Pepper helping him sit up and setting a tray of his favorite sick day meal in his lap. He had to hand it to Pepper, she made a mean grilled cheese soup combo. He finishes the sandwich and about half of the soup before he feels his eyes grow heavy again and the tray is taken from his lap.

“Go back to sleep, hon. Morgan and I are here if you need us.” Pepper reassures the boy, so Peter does.

The next time he wakes was when Morgan and Pepper we’re on their way out. He vaguely remembers sluggishly thanking them for staying with him and Pepper saying something about MJ being home in just a few minutes, but as soon as the apartment door closes Peter was out once more.

The final time he wakes up is to Michelle gently shaking his shoulder, attempting to wake him from his short slumber. His eyes open, but quickly close again as he stretches his whole body, somehow exhausted and sore from his long day of sleeping.

“Emmby, you back?” He asks, not yet opening his eyes again.

He hears her adorable laugh and his heart soars. “Yes, dork, it’s me. Wanna open those pretty eyes for me, Tiger?”

Obviously wanting to see his beautiful girlfriend, he opens his eyes again. MJ looks tired from her first day but extremely happy.

“Was it ambazing? Everythindg you could have hoped for?” He asks, nuzzling closer to her thigh, much like a cat.

She hums an affirmation, bringing her hand up to trace random shapes along his arm. “It was everything and more. Honestly I can see myself working there forever. It was…it was perfect.”

Peter smiles at that. MJ deserved the perfect job and more. “Babe, that fandtastic. I’m so happy for you.” He says horsely but sincerely. He moves closer to her, raising his head a bit to lay it on her lap. With the motion, one of Morgan’s many little braids in his hair make themselves apparent and Michelle can help but burst with laughter.

It causes Peter to jolt up in a sleepy state of panic. “What, what happended?” He asks sitting up slightly, eyes half closed but alert.

She reaches up to ruffle the tiny braids that cover the right side of his head. “What is this? Did Morgan just learn how to fishtail braid because these are honestly kinda good.” She inspects the braids as Peter’s cheeks blush.

He smiles, coughing slightly and gently shaking his head so the braids flop around. That gets another laugh from MJ. “Mby sisters pretty talendted, huh?”

MJ nods, very amused. “An interesting look…but I’ll give it points for creativity.”

As the couple laughs again, Peter brings two fingers up to massage his temple as he feels a dull ache in his head.

“Headache?” Michelle frowns.

“Mhmm,” Peter confirms. “I thingk Mborgan made the braids a little too tight.”

“That’s no good.” MJ sympathizes, lowering her boy’s head back down onto her lap, braid side up so she can work on undoing the little knots. She makes quick work of it and within minutes, Peter’s hair is braid-less and the throbbing in head head dies down. In thanks, Peter snuggles his face closer Michelle’s middle, wrapping his arms around it as well.

“You thingk you can use a vacationd day tomborrow? I mbissed you today.” Peter whines, partly joking but sorta kinda being serious.

“From what I heard, your eyes were open for about thirty minutes today. Too busy sleeping to miss me that much.” MJ giggles at the sniffly boy with his head in her lap. He just shrugs in response, and she can feel his body relaxing and congested breaths evening out. “You going back to sleep on me already, Parker? Not even gonna let me tell you about my day?” She jokes again.

Peter snorts involuntarily as he turns his head to look up at her, eyes glossed with fever and sleepy but apologetic. “I’mb up I’mb up, tell mbe everything.”

She grabs the sides of his face sweetly, slightly squishing his cheeks while she kisses his forehead and then his nose. “I’m kidding, Peter. God your brain must be frying, come on let's go to bed.” She pats his cheek lightly and helps him sit up.

He yawns with his whole body, his hands stretching into the air and his back arching. “But it’s only like six, arend’t you hungry for dinnder?” He coughs into his fists while Michelle takes his other hand, helping him lift off the couch.

“Let me rephrase. You’re going to shower, put new pajamas on, and get in bed while I make us grilled cheeses, your second one today I'm assuming. How does that sound?” MJ asks, leading him to their bathroom.

Peter clears his throat as he sits on the closed toilet. “And…umb…and the tombato soup?”

The shower roars to life as MJ turns the handle. “You think I’d forget the most important part?” She scoffs, feigning hurt. Peter just smiled, the dopey smile he gets when he thinks about how in love he is with this girl. With two more quick forehead kisses she leaves him to shower.

Peter exits the shower feeling refreshed, less stuffy, and hungry once more. Thanks to the shower stream he can faintly smell the toasty cheesy smell from the kitchen and it gives him a nostalgic feeling.

As he grabs pajama pants and the MIT hoodie, Peter thinks of the first time he got sick after going to live with Ben and May. It was the first day of what was considered flu season and the sickly kid had contracted the virus at the drop of a hat. He was miserable the whole day, crying and wallowing in the aches and pains of the illness. The biggest issue, however, was that he refused to eat anything, that is until Ben decided to make himself a grilled cheese for dinner.

The older Parker noticed Peter looking the sandwich with feverish eyes. “Look tasty, bud?” Ben questioned, raising an eyebrow. Little Peter just nodded and Ben smiled, extremely relieved that his nephew was finally going to eat.

Sticking his pointer and middle finger in his mouth, Peter watches as his uncle stands from the couch and starts on another sandwich. “Uncle Ben?” Peter asks in a small voice. Ben looks back over to the kid and nods. “Do you have any of the-the red soup? Mommy always made grilled cheese with red soup.” Peter nearly whispered.

Ben thinks for a minute, not completely sure what the boy meant by red soup, but then it clicks. “Oh! Tomato soup?” He smiles as Peter nods. Ben open the cupboard to him and pulls out a can of tomato soup, flipping it in the air once to see Peter smile. “Tomato soup and grilled cheese coming right up monsieur Parker.” Ben says in a horrible French accent which makes the six year old giggle, as sound that was music to Ben’s ears after all tears. From then on, Peter would only insist on eating that particular meal anytime he had so much as a headache.

The door creaking open as MJ pushes it with her hip brings Peter out of his thoughts. She has the tray of grilled cheeses and soups in her hands and an amused look on her face. “You okay? Need help with something?”

Peter blinks and remembers that he’s sitting in the edge of their bed, in a towel, pajamas in hand. “Oh…no I’mb okay. Just thinking ‘bout stuff.”

MJ sets the tray down on her bedside table. “You already sound less stuffy. Maybe you should sleep in the shower.” She quips, not missing Peter's sweet tiny giggle as she grabs the water tank from the humidifier and takes it to the bathroom with her.

Peter gets dressed and settles into bed. He notices that Pepper has changed the sheets and his heart clinches, nearly overwhelmed by the love he feels from his family. He takes out his phone to text her a thank you but is intercepted by a string of texts from Tony.

Tony Stank:

Morgs is showing me pictures of the wonderful makeover she gave you

Honestly thought you pulled it off really well

…but you need a haircut

Please kiddo let me get you in with my hair guy

You’ll love him

Spider-Tot:

sorry pops but I am fully committing to this college hair thing

mj says she wants me in a man bun by graduation so

cant let my girl down

Tony Stank:

I swear you two are conspiring against me

Oh well

How you feeling bud?

Spider-Tot:

still kinda gross

snotty

but i think my fevers kinda lower

so thats something

tell pep thank you so so much for today

i was barely awake when they left

i feel bad I didn't get to say anything

Tony Stank:

I gotcha Pete don’t worry

If you need more company tomorrow let me know I’m free all day

Spider-Tot:

wdym ill just come in to the lab tomorrow

Tony Stank:

That’s a negative Petey Pie

As your gracious boss i’m giving you the next three days off

I want all this crap out of your system before you’re back in the lab

Spider-Tot:

three days ??

boooo

u stink old man

Tony Stank:

Good lord

You’re the only person I know that complains about getting days off from work

Get a good nights sleep and maybe ill bring you a circuit board to mess with tomorrow

Good enough?

Spider-Tot:

hmmm

fine

Tony Stank:

Good

Now go rest

Don’t bother your girlfriend too much

She complains to me when you do

Spider-Tot:

now I think its you two conspiring against me

:P

night tony

love u

Tony Stank:

Love you too bambino

Michelle returns from the bathroom, makeup off, hair down, and humidifier tank full of water. She sets the tank back in and turns the machine on, steam filling the air. After quickly putting on her own set of pajamas, MJ takes her and Peter’s dinner from the side table and places it on the bed between them. Peter wastes no time digging in, groaning in admiration for the food. He mumbles a thanks with his mouth full and MJ laughs, wiping a bit of soup off of his lip with her thumb.

“You’re welcome, loser.” She teases, beginning to eat her own meal. After a few bites she take the TV remote by her side and flips on Peter’s favorite sick day show.

As the Parks and Recreation theme song begins to play, Peter looks up at his girlfriend with appreciative eyes. “You’re too good to mbe.”

“You remember that next time I make you vacuum and you get pissy about it.” Michelle deadpans, but Peter knew she was messing around.

“I’m not messing around.” She clarifies, turning to look at his with one eyebrow raised.

“You really are a mbind reader.” Peter whispers with feverish wonder.

Throwing a paper towel at him playfully, MJ laughs and Peter joins her. They finish their food as the TV continues to play in the background, Peter yawning and coughing quietly as soon as he swallows his last bite. Without a word, MJ takes the empty plates and tray back to the kitchen. She turns off the bedroom lights as she reenters and tucks herself back under the covers. It's barely after 7 p.m. and the sun it only just starting to set, making the room glow a with dark blues and purples.

Peter is cuddled into her side as soon as she's back in bed, head resting on her chest and arm around her waist. “What am I gonna do with you Peter Parker?” She sighs, twirling her fingers through his already messy hair.

“Love mbe, no matter what? Even if I’mb yucky like this?” He pulls out the puppy dog eyes for this one. MJ may be stoic on the outside but not even she can resist the sweet sparkling glare.

“If I must.” She agrees, holding him tighter and resting her head on top of his.

But she’s happy to do it. Loving Peter Parker is an extremely easy thing, MJ thinks.

[iamnotthat]

Soft asks - 3, 6, 7, 13, 20, 27, 30? I am sorry for giving you so many; feel free to pick and choose! We have had a few interactions, and I just wanna get to know you better. ^.^

Hey Medha! I hope you are doing well. Please don’t apologize for the asks!! ( I love attention :P). 

13 and 20 are answered here https://iamnotthat.tumblr.com/post/624647004259221504/1-7-13-23-24-for-soft-asks

3. what’s your favorite candle scent?

I think this would be sandalwood, (such a Kannadiga answer) and oud wood which is usually used in Arabic incense and fragrance (it has very polarising views).

6. say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).

Ohh okay for the physical traits I would say my hair ( uncontrollable and curly) and my skin (dark) because they are not what is considered conventionally beautiful in our society but I have worked hard to accept them as a part of what I love about myself and now I am better for it (seriously fuck eurocentric standards of beauty). One more would be my eyes because its a part of my death glare.

Non-physical would be that I am fiercely loyal, empathetic, and low tolerance for nonsense.

20.  what do you want most in the world right now?

I want people to learn the right lessons from this pandemic (also for it to end already)

I want my contract for work to become permanent so that I can move into an apartment by next year at least (pray for this blogger!) and I want my parents to find some peace of mind.

27. which character would you want to be?

Wow, this is hard because all my fav characters live in terrible worlds. Okay, so one female character I would like to be is Leslie Knope because she is unironically nice. She’s such a ray of sunshine, and her friends and her husband are all so wholesome and are actively working towards a better world.

A male character I would like to be is Damainos from Captive Prince because I feel like he has had such good character development from a well-meaning but problematic privileged prince to the King. A genuinely nice character who is sometimes blinded by his own privilege but ultimately would always stick by his honor and would do anything to help his people.Also, he is super snarky and thirsty on the main.  On a more shallow note, I am 5 ft tiny woman and I would love to be a big muscular dude as big as a house and who can yeet a two-handed sword accurately across a river.

30. what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

The smell of agarbatti in the mornings.

Thank you for the asks!! I would like to know you better as well so feel free to dm me anytime!!

[thetearlingqueen]

Rowland Finn as a Villian

I have read some criticism of how Rowland Finn was written as a villain, that he was lacking depth and motivation and that he falls flat and is disappointing as the “big bad”.  And while I think this is a valid criticism and I think it’s more than fair to think that I’d like to offer my thoughts on his character and his role as a villain.  Rowland Finn has blurry motivations, he isn’t as well developed as I know myself would have liked and I think we the readers are ultimately left with more questions than answers by the end of the series. I think for a lot of us this was frustrating but this is exactly why I like Rowland Finn as a Villian. Because he is all these things, not because it makes him a different type of Villian but it makes him that much more relevant to us, the readers and therefore at least for myself- more terrifying.  Rowland Finn clearly mirrors a type of real-life “villain” we face today in first world countries. He is to me, the mass shooter, the spree killer the political terrorist that we face far too often. His mindset clearly mimics the mindsets of the young men who commit these acts of violence, and the frustrating parts of his character are the same things we find frustrating as we try to figure out why these spree killings happen in the wake of tragedy. 

Long post broke down into chunks under the cut

Sense of Superiority:

Rowland Finn is bright and gifted as a child, he shows a lot of potentials but pretty early on we see how he views the other children, as beneath him. We know from Kate that this never changes, it grows stronger. He thinks of himself as above everyone else, smarter than everyone else. In this small culture he lives in he feels like he is different, special and cannot or perhaps refuses to relate to his peers. I often see him referred to as a spoiled brat (which yeah) and that’s why he isn’t a good villain. But his spoiled superior mentality to me makes him more of a villain. These are the traits we see in the likes of Elliot Rogers, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. We now know that the narrative of the beaten and bullied losers getting revenge is false, all three of these men had a sense of superiority. They were entitled to better and they were above everyone else, yes even Dylan and Eric. In fact, it is more accurate to say that they were bullies, rather than the bullied. They just weren’t popular bullies. 

Misogyny :

Rowland Finn also displays his views on women, which are misogynistic. He plays with their emotions, knowing he’s desired he enjoys not giving them his full attention. And when they fight over him, I think he probably finds it amusing. But of course, when he wants his sexual needs met he takes advantage of their interest in him. He uses them when he wants to, and disregards them whenever he feels. I think it’s fair to say he regards women as sexual objects. If this isn’t the case then I think he’d fall into the group of people who classifies women into two strict groups, “good women” and “whores”. Whether he sees all women as objects or he sees them in two distinct groups this is a view shared by many serial killers and spree killers. A very black and white view of women is pretty standard for the type of people I feel Row represents.  

Home Life:

His home life is not picture-perfect, but it isn’t terrible either. His father is present in his life and his mother clearly has social and/or mental health issues. She’s desperate, obsessive and overbearing. But she isn’t evil, nor is she to blame for his actions. Toxic? Probably but many people have much more trying home lives and childhoods. I don’t think any family is perfect but that being said people survive much worse and they go on to thrive later in life. A lot of the serial killers of the 60′s and 70′s describe having overbearing mothers and sometimes even blame this for the later actions. While I don’t think this is an excuse at all it is interesting to note, and a very obvious parallel to our reality. He’s angry and upset about his home life, irritated with his mother but instead of trying to improve his family relationship by reaching out to his father, half brother and mother he would rather let these issues fester and grow. To him it is easier to detest his family and resent them instead of realizing family isn't easy, love is difficult, relationships are difficult. Family relationships are no exception, he isn’t in an overly abusive household where this wouldn’t be an option. My interpretation is that he wants them to fix it, not himself. He shouldn’t have to, because it’s not his fault and he is well, himself. 

Blurry Motivations:

Rowland never outright says why he does what he does, nor is it perfectly clear to the readers. And again I think this is frustrating for us as the readers but is all too common with real life crimes and mass killings. I think it’s extremely frustrating when we see serial killers and spree shooters describe their crimes after they have been apprehended and they say things such as “I don’t know why, I just did it,” or “I just wanted to do it,” and that’s the closest we get to an answer. In some cases these are obvious lies to cover up premeditation but not always. We have cases where it seems like people who just seem to lose it and decide they want to hurt people and maybe that will make it better or gratify something within them. I think of Brenda Ann Spencer who only said: “I don’t like Mondays” after opening fire at an elementary school. She had been suffering abuse but it wasn’t her abuser she attacked she lashed out at people she didn’t even know and children.  We have cases where spree killers describe feeling like being in a trance but cannot come up with a logical explanation or excuse for why they wanted to do that. It’s frustrating for us as a society, we want to find a reason for everything and figure everything out, because not knowing is so scary. And I think Rowland Finn’s blurry messy motivations are similar to this. 

A Modern Villian:

Rowland Finn represents a growingly dangerous type of killer in our society, at least here in the USA. Angry young men who feel entitled to better despite not trying to improve themselves or the world around them. They want to be above the rest of us, incels, mass shooters, serial killers all have these characteristics. And the mass shootings caused by these skewed disturbing views seem to be getting more and more frequent and “random”, to the point where even shopping at a Walmart can make you a target for an angry entitled incel or revenge thirsty young man who feels we have withheld from him the life he deserves. And the rest of us, with empathy and reason, are not real people we are objects to blame for these young men not getting the lives they want. And then we are further blamed for not helping enough when these people, like Row Finn refuse to help themselves. I think Rowland Finn despite the flaws in his portrayal and the frustrating questions he raises is a good representation of the type of villain that is becoming most relevant and to me, most terrifying. He represents a modern villian. 

What do you think of Row Finn? Do you like him? Hate him? How about how he is written? I’d love to hear your thoughts, do you agree or disagree with my own thoughts on him? let me know and stay safe. 

[faunusrights]

‘AFTER THE FALL’ - LIVEREAD

I say ‘liveread’ but there’s a pretty decent chance this’ll turn into a RWDEread.

So, After The Fall is finally out in the UK and my copy has landed arse-first on my desk, so I’m gonna read it and post my observations here so that you can experience it with me! And also experience whichever stages of grief I go through as we go!

I will preface this with a warning: as much as I love the characters of RWBY, canon is currently the target of all of my spite, so I’m approaching this novel with HANDFULS of wariness and also salt! Most people who follow me already know I don’t pay attention to canon, nor care for it, nor listen to it, and most of you also know I headcanon Velvet as a 6ft+ trans and queer beefcake who can bend your spine into a pretzel, so I’m already at odds here. As such, if it seems like I’m not approaching this liveblog with the benefit of the doubt: that’s because I’m not!!! Yay!!!

So with that said, let’s enjoy Murphy Wishing Velvet Were Big, But Isn’t, And So Suffering Never Ends:

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Firstly, this book is thicker than I expected, whilst the font is bigger than I’d have thought. I know it’s for teens so it’s not as if this was gonna be, like, 1000 pages in a size 10 font, but this probably won’t take me long to read (although it’ll take longer by virtue of me adding to this as we go). There doesn’t seem to be a chapter list, though, so I have no clue how long each chapter is. Guess we’ll find that out when we get there.

Secondly, the cover of this book sure is, uh, a Thing. What’s going on with Velvet’s face?

Thirdly, the cover is Not Nice to Touch. This is a weird observation, but trust me, I’m tempted to laminate the cover just so it doesn’t feel so... dusty.

PROLOGUE

Velvet’s the narrator, and Murphy isn’t surprised! Velvet’s such a fan favourite that having her not be the narrator (at least for some of this book) would have been an absolute crime.

Okay, halfway through the first page and I did laugh at ‘a terrible place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there’. I may pass that line along to my dad, because it’s a, how you say, big mood.

Fox’s Semblance is Telepathy, which is... a thing, I guess? I’ve seen some pretty creative thoughts on what Fox might have, and this seems kinda lackluster, but the phrase ‘special teamspeak’ IS funny and I love the concept of them acting like it’s a voice channel on Discord. That’s good, and for that I accept this.

(I will note I trust the author of this novel. He seems neat and I already like the humour. I don’t trust M+K but we already knew that.)

‘As [Yatsu] stepped onto [Velvet’s] linked hands, she heaved upwards and stood, boosting his jump as he catapulted high over her head.’

Velvet, bridal-carrying Yatsu: idk he weighs the same as a couple of grapes

I will say, it’s nice having CFVY content at all. They might be Fools but I do love them,

‘[Velvet] pressed the stitched heart emblem to open it and then removed Anesidora, her high-tech camera that used special Dust--’

Anesidora???? That’s the name of her camera??? Of all the things I expected, that was probably the LAST thing I expected. What??? Wikipedia says it’s Greek for sender of gifts, but why that’s the name I am, Not Sure,

‘Combined with her Semblance--photographic memory--Velvet could wield these 3-D replicas with skills and moves that otherwise would have taken years of training to master.’

That’s no surprise, really (and I did already write a short about Exactly That) but I probably wouldn’t have called it photographic memory. Muscle memory, more like? But yeah, that’s pretty expected.

REESE GOT MENTIONED ILU REESE,,,, when will my gay child return from the WAR. LITERALLY. WHERE IS SHE.

Velvet’s thinking abt Weiss dustbun confirmed!!!!!!!!!!! But seriously when will Velvet kiss a small gay Schnee??? What must I do. Whomst must I kill.

OUGH VELVET LOSING THE PHOTOS OF FRIENDS SHE ISN’T SURE HAVE SURVIVED,,,, OWIE. THAT HURT MY FEELIES MR MYERS,,,, but I AM enjoying this angst and that I shall not lie about.

Ruby and Coco, leaders in arms... I will say that the moment of them kinda regarding each other as equals would have landed considerably better had they ever really, uh, interacted in the show. I tend to write Ruby being Coco’s little protege, but we don’t actually have a ton of canon evidence of that really being a thing? So even though I’m enjoying this li’l tidbit, it’s really lacking some foundation, alas.

Fox’s tonfas (is it tonfa time? I think it’s tonfa time) are called Sharp Retribution. Which MMORPG did he get that from?

“We’re Shade Academy’s newest star pupils.”

The sheer cockiness of it all. Ilu Coco.

Okay so, y’all know that Murphy’s about to say: I HATE that Velvet gets treated like a goddamn marshmallow. I’m trying my BEST, I SWEAR, not to complain abt canon Velvet because everyone knows this is my biggest sticking point, but god I hate that she’s written to have such a specific semblance and be so squishy. Aaaaaaaaaaaaa--

Also: we’re having a case of a jumpy POV, particularly with the conversation with Glynda. I know this tends to be something that happens with writing for younger audience, but woof am I noticing it.

I’m liking Yatsu!!!! He had like, no lines (at all) in the show, but he’s actually more of a smartass than I had dared hope for, so that Something.

Oh yeah, Fox is a Vacuan boye! I do like that he’s very chill with everything whilst Velvet is begging for seven different types of death (but could I make a comment abt my Velvet here? Yes. Am I going to? I’m trying not to).

CHAPTER ONE

Owie wowie this is already gettin’ kinda long. If chapter one causes a lot of commentary, I may have to add on in a reblog so the people don’t have to suffer.

Coco is our narrator now! Let’s see how many times the word ‘sunglasses’ comes up (hint: probably enough times that if I took a shot for every one I’d be very dead).

/sees the name Alabaster YOU aren’t a big chunky polar bear Faunus! Leave!

“Who’s your tribe?” “I’m from Kenyte,” Fox said. “But it’s been a long time.”

Vacuan tribes, baby! I’m tempted to see how I could work this into anything, but my lore is pretty stick-stuck so I’m probably just gonna jot this down as a ‘cool thing’. Oh, wait, they’re tribal nomads, which means it DOES fit the lore!!! Nice!!! Murphy guessed it!!! Cool!!

‘A perky Faunus waitress with a pig snout came over.’

With a what. Canon, where are we with traits? Also, like, I feel there are multiple childhood movies that scared the crap out of me with people getting pig snouts so I’m making the executive decision to ignore this line. Never happened.

Racism incoming, so I’m getting a cup of tea.

And we’re back! This guy also has a mace and a mohawk and is he just the combination of team CRDL or what?

‘Coco couldn’t take her eyes off the fit, dark-skinned woman.’

I presume they mean fit��as in physically fit but my BritBrain is like ‘hell yeah shes fit’ and now I’m envisioning Coco as, like, maybe a scouser. Can you imagine her with a beehive? Anyway, moving SWIFTLY on.

‘--chain mail crop top--’

I’ve never seen a worse combination of words, which is impressive when I wrote Velvet as wearing bright yellow boardshorts with a neon-blue tank top that one time. And by one time, I mean, every time,

I’ve seen this outfit in pictures ‘cause of Amity Arena but god it sounds even worse in words like. Nobody is hot enough to pull off this absolute jumble of clothes. Nobody is.

I do enjoy big lesbian Coco though, so there’s that.

People have already mentioned the ‘could you picture me in a uniform’ line w/ Thirsty Coco so I won’t give it more screentime but it is a mood, and now we know coco has a uniform kink,

“We’re doing this for school credit,”

fox: i do not want money i want an a+

Velvet POPPIN OFF for Mysterious Reasons... is this gonna be like Qrow’s bad luck Semblance only someone has the Semblance of ‘Will Piss Everyone Off In Vicnity’? I think we call those anons,

CHAPTER TWO

I think I’ll stop after this chapter since this chapter’s a little bigger, and this liveblog is already too dang long. It’s a flashback!

‘Vale has been [Coco’s] home all her life.’

I’m quietly ignoring this line in favour of Atlesian Coco. You cannot stop me. But Coco does have a younger brother, so that’s neat! Kinda! IDK what to do with this information but it sure is there existing!

‘And to top it off, [Glynda] was also hot--’

This is the only bit of canon I will accept, because it’s true and Coco should say it.

‘[Velvet and Coco had] both come from Pharos Combat School--’

Another tidbit ignored because I favour Menagerie-born-and-bred Velvet, but I do like hearing the names of other combat schools outside of Signal. Looooooore.

OH there’s a GOOD PARAGRAPH HERE that I don’t really wanna type out, but Velvet is mentioning how she doesn’t like bunny jokes or puns (’hop to it’, she classifies as ‘harmless-but-hurtful’) and THANK YOU, oh my GOD. I’ve written about this before but if I see one more person have Coco make a bunny joke in a fic I will fight Them Myself,

Oh, Fox’s Scroll has an ‘Accessibility Dialogue Assistant’ (ADA)! That’s quite cool, actually. I’ve been wondering how tech might have functioned for Fox, so we have some confirmation about a Scroll’s use for accessibility stuff! That’s neat! I like that! Also, his telepathy also lets him sense people -- pinpointing them exactly the better he knows them -- so that’s a cool little side-effect, too. Although, I swear these Semblances are getting more poorly named by the minute.

Coco’s weapon is called Gianduja, which is... a type of chocolate! Unsurprisingly.

‘Besides, Coco wasn’t looking for a girlfriend--’

yet.

Coco and Fox have a fun dynamic, and I enjoy it immensely. They’re bros...

Also, how does Velvet procure this very expensive Dust for her weapon, anyway? I wonder if we’ll find out later.

“You’re from Mistral,” she said. Yatsuhashi blinked. “So?” “Your people don’t tend to like my people.”

That’s an interesting tidbit that Mistral as a whole has a reputation. I suppose they mean the Kingdom and not the continent (of Anima), but still.

“Don’t worry,” Velvet smirked. “I’ll protect you.”

ah, that is, how the kids say, hott,

“So it’s a Death Stalker den. Only an idiot would go in there.”

Jaune found dead from a sneezing fit.

Awh, I like Coco describing the temple bit. Already she’s looking out for her Best Boye. Also, playing cards are a cool thing, and they’re the King of Hearts! That’s ‘cause they’re gonna win a lot, too,

Okay, I now understand Coco’s Hype Semblance. It’s interesting! I’m curious how else it can be used, aka how versatile it is, but it’s a neat concept.

Velvet dabbled in fortune-telling when she was younger and I am enamoured with this idea. Also, picking the Queen of Hearts ‘cause it’s the only one w/ good vibes? Love it.

Okay, end of chapter! RIP Velvet who constantly looks like a squishy baby, and even though that still Irks Me As a Person And A Gay, at least it’s. Maybe gonna be a plot point or smthng idk. Anyway, I’m stopping here for now because this is slow going when I’m adding commentary, so I’ll probably reblog this and add onto it later. Less RWDE than expected, but it’s still early chapters yet.

[raccoonpatriotism]

260 [Random, Useless Headcanons 📂] from @homeofthevan | Part 2 Explosive Boogaloo

1-100: Here

101: He’s always had an, uh, ‘excellent’ temperament with old women - starting from being forced to help out at Old Folks Homes to get him out of the Orphanage. 

102: He yells to show he cares. 

103: He also yells for the sake of it.

104: You have to constantly say his name if you want him to continue to be part of the conversation.

105: that’s why he so often repeatedly uses names, nicknames, a simple ‘son’ when speaking to people.

106: He assumes everyone’s just like him until proven otherwise.

107: Along with what I said earlier about him not being empathetic; he really isn’t able to visualize himself in someone elses shoes unless he’s been walked through, like, a specific a few times. 

108: He respects Miss Pauling the most out of everyone he knows. 

109: Smissmas and Thanksgiving are tied for his favorite holiday.

110: Jane really likes Halloween though, and isn’t a grump on Valentines day. 

111: <- Jane’s password for anything he owns that requires a password. More 1s if necessary.

112: When he’s thirsty he’ll go to the nearest form of water for hydration - catch him just drinking out of the bathroom sink - leaning up as he wipes his mouth, chirping, “Hello, private.”

113: He guzzles coffee like it’s fuel, but he has a very strict, No Caffeine after lunch protocol.

114: Decaff is for WIMPS.

115: Jane plays the trombone.

116: Subsequently, in most music, he appreciates and hums along with the bass parts.

117: Modern AU-Jane may be a Call of Duty fanboy, but he respects Halo for being another accurate depiction of life on the battlefront. 

118: Speaking of modern Jane, the Military didn’t accept him in the 80s either.

119: His love for the military lead him to believe for sure he’d be accepted he was the Perfect Patriot and his enlistment would be a surefire way to help fund his transition--

120: But of course, as strong as he had become he’d spent his youth very sick and with the possibility of the illness to return along with a terrible psyche eval and 80s typical transphobia that lane was firmly closed.

121: At least he had DOOM to fall back on. And he was physically strong enough to hold down jobs to at least pay for testosterone.

122: And then Call of Duty came out and he became an early era streamer. (Went viral as one of those guys who basically RPs being an actual soldier in the voice chat.)

123: BACK TO CANON JANE because those headcanons just.. plain, aren’t useless. canon jane doesn’t have to deal with transphobia. tch.

124: He’s not the best to have on your football team as menacing as he is. He’ll start tackling everybody. Running the wrong way. Trying to steal the ball from his teammates.

125: If you tell Jane something’s American after he criticizes it, watching him backtrack is really fun.

126: Jane doesn’t get sick often, which is good because he is insufferable. Either goes full isolation straight up outside somewhere. Or is whining to everyone and everyone how it’s not allowed that he can’t be burrowing somewhere outside.

127: His hands are always warm - if they’re cold he’s probably having an Episode of some sort. 

128: Rock and Roll helps his tinnitus, though he’ll still refer to it as Hippy Garbage. Like most music.

129: Jane could probably tapdance if given proper shoes. Mmm no, he’d stomp through the floor. Horse level clomping.

130: He’ll be the hype-man for anyone on his team.

131: Despite not being a fan of mint flavoring, he loves himself a candy-cane.

132: His thumb isn’t double jointed - seeing someone showing off their double jointed-ness would have Jane proclaiming magic was necessary.

133: LT. BITES lightning round!! Lt. Bites sees jane as its “General” 

134: It got the bite taken out of its ear fighting over sour cream - it won.

135: Jane doesn’t give any raccoons a higher rank than Bites.

136: Lt. Bites doesn’t crave human flesh or anything, but it likes the sensation of biting people!

137: Jane has tried to get his raccoon a job at RED.

138: You can tell when Jane is having a really good day on the battlefield because you’ll round the corner and there’s Naked Soldier.

139: He’s waxing poetry about the beauty of the Male Form, take it in you soft quivering maggots. 

140: I can’t get the image of Jane crowd surfing out of my head? That’s, like, his ideal dream for being recognized for his heroics. Medals and a mosh in his Honor.

141: Anytime he sees a Bald Eagle he entirely stops what he’s doing to place his left hand over his heart.

142: Jane loves The Art of War and is still awaiting Sun Tzu’s next book.

143: [ Alcohol ] Jane only sees ghosts when he’s starving, drunk, or suffering from a concussion. And it’s merely a way for such a boar minded guy to internalize what’s going on around him.

144: He can touch his toes keeping his knees straight.

145: Jane has minor ice-skating knowledge, as most growing up in the midwestern united states do. He’s not, good, though, he’s really intent on Taking Steps instead of gliding.

146: Put him in front of a piano and he’s holding out on finger and pressing down on one key at a time like an old man at a desktop keyboard.

147: Jane is ready to beat up your father. 

148: Especially if your dad is shitty, unleash good ol’ Solly on him.

149: While he favors picking his nose with his pinkies, neither of his pinkie pads have any feeling.That makes them a little less dexterous when the time comes.

150: He’s always aching to be active, his brain will take things literally if it means he’ll be doing something.

151: Rum pineapple juice and malibu caribou -- Er. He doesn’t like pineapple flavoring. Isn’t a fan of mixed drinks in general? 

152: He’s capable of staying out of the picture and not picking his nose, often times if things aren’t focused on him he’ll just sorta.. Stand out of the way playing with his hands - rifling through his pouches. Some times he’ll even, *gasp* pay attention. 

153: He really likes to but in with his opinion is the thing.

154: He’s an American and his ideals must be heard.

155: Merasmus out here having doing the most for Soldier, in helping him reintegrate back into society. You think he’s bonkers now?? Psh. You should’a seen him fresh home from Poland.

156: He’s shown up to Civil War reanactments with a real gun.

157: Jane is incapable of yawning silently.

158: Stairs are overrated.

159: Catch Jane with a lukewarm mug of water pouring coffee grinds directly into it and saying “Damn, that’s a fine cup of Joe.”

160: Only. 100 left? Sweet Joseph Wetnurse of Jesus He’s got dirty blond hair leaning toward brunette.

161: Any righteous death deserves a warrior’s burial - That’s why you’ll find Jane, helmet over heart, giving a stirring eulogy about the Toilet from the Men’s Restroom that Got Unearthed and Shattered By... Nobody In Particular. 

162: He will just join in large groups of people  - like protests? He’ll just fall in line and preach his own stuff which sometimes doesn’t exactly align with the group at large.

163: i asked myself, would jane pick someone else’s nose? Yes.

164: His hugs are always really warm.

165: He would notice his wallet being pickpocketed - unless it was replaced by something the same weight. He’s like a temple from Indiana Jones.

166: Mentally? Jane’s fine with being alone, but. That leads to him living in a box or a room straight out of that “Damn, bitch, you live like this?” comic.

167:  Despite deep cold being triggering to him (SEE HC, 67.), he loves snow-forts and hot chocolate because those are great American past-times.

168: next one is this post’s 69 brace yourselves! Jane’s never truly in silence, the constant whistling in his ears will see to that. That’s why sometimes, when it is quiet, you’ll catch Jane looking into space like he’s trying to see where the sound is coming from.

169: Important to note, he ain’t popping a boner any time he’s fighting nude. Or, really, fighting any time. Intent is really important for him. (If he gets all rubbed up on, though, Well,)

170: Jane is under the assumption that everything he comes up with is ingenious and people like Red Spy are holding society back by ignoring such wide plans.

171: He’s secretly soothed by everyone on his team’s voices.

172: First off, himself. He loves to hear himself talk. Mostly fueled by self-important intent, the tenor of his own voice also soothes his eardrums.

173: Pyro’s is muffled yet energetic - and never fails to get Jane pumped up.

174: Scout’s got that accent that is pure and simple, American. Soldier may not listen to half of what he says, but for background buzz and funny colloquialisms 

175: And, Engie's accent garners a whole other sort of American respect out of the Soldier. As far as soothing goes? Engie’s is like butter.

176: Soldier hate’s Heavy’s accent on principle, but below his American Stubbornness is a love for the deep, thoughtful symbols Heavy provides. Plus, y’know, he appreciates a fellow loud guy.

177: Demo’s voice makes Solly a happy man. It used to make him furious, an all Scottish accents did, but more recently it makes him feel nostalgic. 

178: Jane would swear up every mountain he can that there’s nothing positive to be found in Spy’s accent, but zoning out to such poised speech patterns and rounded vowels is a common occurrence. 

179: When Sniper gets that gravelly tone going on, when he takes things really seriously? Jane like that.

180: Jane can’t find it in him to be really put off by anything Medic says during surgery, so his voice only causes a feeling of safety throughout the Soldier. He can’t get enough of hearing Enthusiasm in the Medic’s voice.

181: He doesn’t believe the Police can arrest him because they aren’t the official Government.

182: He looks at a baby and is like “What animal is this?”

183: Big hands.. talented at giving massages.

184: BEWARE HIM BREAKING YOUR SPINE - just specify ‘and don’t kill me’!

185: Jane doesn’t gossip so much as, be around people who are gossiping which makes him want to make up some Hot Goss. Also, he’ll act like every rumor someone else shares is spoken truth.

186: Jane picked up finger guns from Scout. He either uses it constantly or doesn’t use it for weeks at a time.

187: He lifts, broskis.

188: Jane will talk about trucks because the Average American Male is expected to. He knows nothing about cars.

189: He’s an impulsive liar, so caught up in in his web of ‘things he says to impress people’ that he believes everything he says. So are the woes of being an adult with ADHD.

190: He goes between being smell-blind and having the scent skills of a bloodhound. It’s probably a mental thing, because there’s no in between, but Jane doesn’t know anything.

191: i’ve been working on these for 5 days at this point... i hope they’re appreciated JANE prefers..soft food. jane Does Not lov the cronch.

192: Which is what makes cashews his favorite nut. they’re soft-ish. and they have just enough crunch to not gross him out.

193: He loves immediate gratification. 

194: Beyond joining the Military? Jane’s never had a solid plan for his future. Lives too in the moment. 

195: As long as he’s having fun, Jane’s a pretty content guy.

196: Any artistic skills he may have once had go into making Maps for war planning sessions.

197: He’ll fall victim to Sleep Paralysis occasionally and, once able to move, will spend the rest of the day curing ghosts and Merasmus’ magic.

198: He was SUPER into Howdie Doodie Time in his youth, and being put in front of any reruns will have him basically hypnotized into silence.

199: He’s proud of his ass.

200: Jane can keep marching pace for hours at a time. And if he’s not lugging around his rocket launcher he can keep marching for an entire day no pausing. 

201: Jane isn’t shy about telling jokes, because he believes everyone has the same sense of humor as him.

202: He knows karate but refuses to use his knowledge because it is not an American Form. He will stick to brute strength and loud yelling thank you very much.

203: He’s the type to state every time he’s going to use the bathroom. Like, people can be having a serious conversation and hes like, “I am going to take a shit now!”

204: Jane’ll go a week without washing his hair, but he always brushes his teeth two times a day.

205: He gives a damn good kiss.

206: All Human Nudity is safe for work. As it was God’s Intention to make people strongest when not held back by fabric.

207: All he wants is recognition.... for his good deeds...

208: He’ll have staring contests with the Sun. He’s yet to win, but that damn star shouldn’t get too comfortable.

209: Much like his pinkies, his feet have been crushed, blown up, and bruised so many times that he doesn’t have much feeling in them either.

210: He’s never washed his bellybutton.

211: He prefers savory to sweet, but he prefers sweet to sour.

212: Half assing is not in Jane’s vocabulary.

213: His brain will get stuck on simple Math - like, he tries his best to figure it out, it’s just.... Numbers..... they are a construct. And so he’ll end up pondering what 5+7 is for, like, 5 minutes.

214: Jane is constantly torn between wanting to be a Figure of Authority and also being a man born in the trenches following orders.

215: Have I mentioned lately Jane fucks? 

216: Jane’s room is sparsely decorated, but it’s only because he’s not materialistic and doesn’t generally receive gifts.

217: He’s more than willing to strip Right This Moment and fight something.

218: Jane’s not afraid to call other people losers.

219: He crops his own hair once a week. Same day he’ll do his wash.

220: Jane’s stubble grows in really fast, but he can’t deny the feeling of having a freshly shaved jaw is amazing.

221: If a teammate is struggling emotionally..... Jane walks away.

222: If they’re struggling again, /then/ Jane will give them some uncalled for American Advice. Like, meaningfully yelling “GET OVER IT, YOU SLOBBERING FOOL.”

223: He has a very, very high pain threshold. 

224: He accidentally walks into walls all the time.

225: He can’t magically see through his helmet - he just knows everyone’s feet super well.

226: It’s good that Lt. Bites is a wild, self sufficient animal because Jane is terrible at pet care. And child care. And any sort of care.

227: On the very rare occasions Jane gets overwhelmed with depression he’s a shadow of his former self questioning the sanctity of American Ideals and wondering aloud if War really is the answer to his problems.

228: Next day he’ll be fine and forget he was ever upset.

229: He’s never gotten a real back massage before, if he were to get one he’d probably literally melt? Some women he’s slept with liked to say sensually ‘oh what a big tense man you are’ and, like, weakly rub his back. they didn’t get paid to fix this man’s back muscles LMAO

230: Any backwards period-typical beliefs about women went out the window upon meeting Miss Pauling.

231: His love for America is truly as pure as it gets.

232: Jane’s pretty xenophobic, but he can learn better, I’m sure. he’s gotten his ass kicked for being ignorantly racist and he grew to be a better person.

233: He takes really well to learning things through violence, the only issue is.. dealing with Soldier Being Violent.

234: There’s nothing a fist to the face won’t fix.

235: He’s not much of a napper, his brain being far too active to let him rest during daylight hours.

236: He’s constantly moving, even in sleep.

237: Hell, give him a few hours after being knocked unconscious and he’ll start wiggling something around.

238: He doesn’t stop to smell the flowers, because if they wanted to be smelled they’d approach him.

239: He believes in the good of all humans, it’s just buried down past his Fight Everyone radar.

240: He only likes musicals about fighting Hitler.

241: His biggest regret is not punching Hitler.

242: He does not fear death, he does not fear punishment. He lives for his ideals and if he’s taken down believing in himself? Then that’s okay.

243: Jane needs deodorant reminders.

244: He takes personally being betrayed as people betraying the country of America.

245: (oh shit i slacked off it’s been like two days since i wrote something, Who Is Soldier?) CEREAL THEN MILK, MAGGOTS

246: Jane doesn’t know the word migraine so he really can’t describe how he feels.

247: Look, he loves his friends, he loves his guns, but he’s stingy with the word.. Love because that’s what he feels for America and the country will always be number one.....

248: Jane’s not too partial to sarcasm outside of combat, but it’ll find it’s way into his speech. His tone is usually hammed up to signify he’s joking around or being cruel.

249: He’s like a cartoon character, he can only understand sarcasm if it’s Funny to at the moment.

250: Jane likes his hair being pet.

251: He likes his hands being played with as much as he likes playing with other people’s hands. (A lot.)

252: He loves dogs, but is more of a cat person. Dogs and him just echo energy and HYPE feelings back and forth at each other until they pass out and then Jane feels more emotionally exhausted than hanging out with people.

253: The weirdest parts of rom-coms make him cry. 

254: He appreciates a good non-american explosion, but he has his preferences. 

255: You show Jane genuine kindness and interest and he’s like, Yours. Jane vc: Are you the vice-president?

256: If he were to have a reptile for a sidekick instead of a raccoon, he would have a turtle.

257: He can be delicate when he needs to be, but cracking eggs is a different story.

258: While not too partial to sugary beverages - he has a figure to maintain, root beer and ginger ale are his go-tos.

259: He can appreciate a salad! Jane Doe will eat his greens!!!!

260: Soldier has no tattoos, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be open to getting any. Just never crossed his mind.

SWEET SPIRIT OF JOE BIDEN AM I FINISHED?

thank you,... for reading my garbled thoughts.. for respecting The Soldier... and for being a creative individual. But mostly the respecting Soldier thing.

[wittystiles]

The Bluff || Part Four || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word count: 3.8+k

Title: Chapter Three

Summary: Mitch Rapp is the unlikeliest of nurses, and Stan gives Mitch a new mission.

Warnings: Cursing (as expected). Blood. So much sass.

A/N: Listen y’all, this was a nightmare. I could not write this for whatever reason. I even dubbed this “tuberculosis” at one point, because I was so fed up. I wanna shout out my wifey @ellie-bee242 for literally forcing me to write this and being my cheerleader. I love you. -- Y’all I forgot to take my placeholder name out, because I’m a raccoon (trash), so. I had to delete the previous post and repost this shit. I’m sorry. I’m worthless, lmao. Anyway, here’s my second attempt. Enjoy, please.

Mitch carried a suture kit to the bed, setting it on the nightstand beside (Y/N), his phone held to his ear by his shoulder. He listened to the ringing as he dialed Stan, his eyes widening to full alertness when he heard his trainers familiar rough voice answer on the other end. 

“What is it, Rapp?”

Mitch sighed, “I have a situation on my hands, Sir.” He looked down at (Y/N) who was sleeping soundly, unmoving since he’d laid her on the bed nearly twenty minutes ago. He wondered absently how much they’d given her or if he should be worried about her going into an overdose. He decided she would have done it before he arrived if that were the case. 

Stan grunted into the phone, “you always have a fucking situation on your hands, Rapp. I have a file cabinet in my office filled to the brim with situations and fuckups you’ve gotten yourself into in the two years that I’ve known you. What could it possibly be this time?”

Mitch left the bedroom where (Y/N) was sleeping, walking to the living room of his suite. “The arms dealer managed to make an escape, Sir. He had a hostage in his room that I was not prepared for. I chose saving the girl over capturing him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end where Mitch worried they’d lost connection. “Excuse me?” Stan finally asked, and Mitch heard what sounded like a car door slamming in the background. “You what?”

Mitch picked up a water from the mini bar, pouring it into the plastic cup beside it. “I said, and I quote, the ar-”

Stan grunted and cut Mitch off, “don’t be a little shit with me right now, Rapp. I don’t need your condescending ass remarks. You lost the arms dealer?”

“Yes,” Mitch said, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

Stan raised his voice, “that was your only fucking purpose for being there, you little shit! How do you manage to fuck up your only job?”

Mitch carried the glass into the bedroom, set it down beside the suture kit, and then returned to the living room. “Like I said, Sir,” Mitch’s voice was dripping disdain. “There was an unexpected hostage situation. I valued the life of a possible civilian over that of an arms dealer.”

“What was your assignment?”

“To detain and question the arms dealer.”

“And what was it you didn’t fucking do?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, flopping down on the couch. “I’m not going to answer you when you talk to me like that.”

Stan boomed a loud laugh into the phone, “who the fuck do you think you are you little shit? You’re going to answer me no matter how I speak to you. That’s why being the boss is so wonderful. Assholes like you have to respond to me.”

Mitch took a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose between his first finger and thumb, remembering the punch he’d taken earlier. “Do you like being the biggest asshole, Sir?”

“Don’t be cute with me, boy.” Mitch listened to Stan speak in French to someone, presumably. “Where are you and this civilian that was more important than a Goddamn arms dealer?”

“In my room, Sir.”

Stan groaned, ‘of course she is. So you played knight in shining fucking armor to this chick?”

“Not really, Sir. I just took them out of their literal hostage situation. She was tied to a bed, and drugged, Sir.”

Stan sighed into the phone. “I’ll come rescue you from this bullshit soon, Rapp. Stay put, and don’t fuck anything else up for us, would you?”

Mitch disconnected from Stan, not bothering to retort. He slid his phone into the front left pocket of his jeans before pushing up from the couch. He heard a noise in the bedroom, running in to see the glass of water knocked off of the nightstand, the carpet now soaked. “What are you doing?” Mitch asked, bending to pick the glass up. He placed it back on the nightstand, resting his hands on his hips as he looked down at the half conscious woman.

“I was thirsty,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Can I please have water?”

Mitch took a deep breath before walking out of the room, returning with the half empty water bottle he’d used to fill the cup. “Here.” He held the bottle out to her, decided against it as she lifted her hand, and instead took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Lift your head.” He said, reaching out to hook his hand around the back of her neck to hold her head up. He held the water bottle against her lips, letting her drink for a moment before putting the bottle onto the nightstand, releasing her neck so she could lay back down.

“Do you feel alright?” He asked, trailing his eyes over her face, neck, and chest.

“No.” She murmured. “Not quite alright. Think ‘absolutely terrible’, that’s where I am.”

Mitch smirked, “wonderful.” Taking a moment to assess her injuries, he noted nothing would need immediate attention on her face. “It’s your shoulder, right?” He asked, indicating the spot she’d shown him a wound earlier.

She nodded, “yeah. You can look at it again, if you’d like?”

Mitch nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see it, her eyes had shut again. Slowly, Mitch moved the top of her shirt to the side, seeing the top bit of the knife wound. “May I undo a button on your shirt?” He asked of her, resting his hands on his thighs.

“Just take it off, it’s not mine and I don’t want to wear it any more. It’s his.” She near hissed the last word, shifting a bit to get the bottom of the shirt out from underneath her butt.

“Are you sure?” Mitch asked, clearing his throat.

(Y/N) reached down, beginning to fumble with the last button on the shirt. “Yep.” She grumbled, opening her eyes and craning her neck forward to see what she was doing.

“Here,” Mitch said, gently nudging her hands away. “Let me.” He slowly began undoing the buttons on the shirt, swallowing thickly when they were all popped. “Uh, you need to lift up.” He said, trying not to focus his eyes on her bare chest.

“Can you help me?” She asked in a soft voice. Mitch nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist, lifting her up. He pulled the shirt off of her arms and threw it to the side of the room, laying her back down against the bed. “Where’s your bra?” He asked, indicating her chest with a glance.

“If I knew, don’t you think I would be wearing it?”

Mitch clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes a bit at her. “You realize I’ve got to stitch your shoulder, don’t you?”

(Y/N) nodded.

“And so my hands are going to be -” Mitch pointed at the spot on her chest where the wound was.

“I know.” She said sounding unamused. “Look, guy, they’re just tits. I’m assuming you’ve seen a pair before, yeah? So just, stitch my shoulder and oogle at my chest later. I may even let you enjoy them, but for now. I need water, and my shoulder closed, and a fucking nap. I’m exhausted. So, focus.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes widening in surprise. “Who are you?”

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Who are you? I think it’s fair I know since you’re gonna be fondling me for a while.”

Mitch scoffed, “I’m going to ignore you now and focus.”

He stood from the bed, walking into the bathroom to find something to sterilize her wound. He washed his hands thoroughly noticing that there was a clean set of wash clothes on the tub. He walked them out and set them on the suture kit. “Drugs still kicking in?” 

(Y/N) was asleep again, her breathing steady. Mitch watched her for a moment before shaking his head, deciding that was creepy. “(Y/N)?” He whispered, trying to see if she was a light sleeper.

(Y/N) didn’t react.

Mitch sat down on the bed beside her again, opening up the suture kit. He produced a needle and rubbing alcohol, dousing one of the washcloths before cleaning around her shoulder. He then wiped the needle clean and huffed. “I know you’re not awake right now, which is good, but I hate threading needles.” Mitch bit his tongue between his teeth as he fiddled with the needle and thread, taking longer than he thought should be allowed on anything to finally thread it.

“Okay,” he said as he placed one hand on her chest. “This is gonna suck, I promise. But it’ll be over soon, and you and I can go our separate ways. No one will be the wiser.” Mitch took a deep breath, steadied his hands, and pushed the needle through her skin.

(Y/N) reacted immediately, her hand shooting up to grab Mitch’s throat. She hit his adam's apple in the process of wrapping her hand around his neck, squeezing automatically. “What the fuck?” She screamed, looking at the needle in her shoulder.

Mitch grabbed her wrist, ripping her hand off of his throat, trying to regain his breath. He rubbed at his neck with his free hand, keeping his other wrapped tightly around her wrist in case she felt the need to choke him again. When he could breath again, he threw her hand aside. “I could ask you the same fucking thing? Why the throat?”

(Y/N) shrugged, regretted it, and winced. “I knew it would stop whatever the hell was going on. I was asleep! And suddenly I’m being pierced.”

“I’m stitching your shoulder, (Y/N).” Mitch still had a hand around his throat, almost as if he felt the need to still protect it.

“Well it’s appropriate to wake someone up before sticking a needle through their skin, wouldn’t you agree?” Mitch shook his head, “I thought I was doing you a favor by leaving you unconscious.”

(Y/N) slumped back against her pillows, shaking her head. “You were wrong, and the choking was your fault. Really, you should be apologizing to me for making me go through that.”

“YOU CHOKED ME!” Mitch shouted at her, letting his hand drop from his throat. “I should choke you back, make it even.”

“Buy me dinner first.” (Y/N) gave him a smile, which Mitch eye rolled to in return.

“You’re not a joker, are you?”

Mitch didn’t bother acknowledging her question, instead he reached out and plucked the needle from her skin. “There. Bleed for all I care, (Y/N). I’m not going to get strangled again because you have a rapid and drastic response to a needle.”

“It startled me!” She defended. “I’ve had to be alert and unable to respond to anything that has happened to me in days. I was asleep, and I forgot that I was with you and not that fucking prick anymore. When I realized I could use my hands, that was what I was going to do.”

Mitch gave her what he felt was a frown, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider, I should have woken you up.”

(Y/N) was taken a bit aback by his apology, nodding her head a little. “Thank you, you’re forgiven. I’m sorry for strangling you.” She added on as an afterthought. “Now, can we please get back to stitching me up? I don’t think this wound is going to heal if it stays gaping like it is.”

Mitch shrugged a bit, “you’d be surprised what the human body was capable of.” He took the needle in his fingers again, taking a deep breath in. “Are you sure you’re ready?” He asked, hand hovering over her wound. (Y/N) gave him a nod, furrowing her brows to prove that she was sure. Mitch turned his attention to her wound, placing his hand without the needle back onto her chest, pushing the wound closed a little with his thumb and first finger.

“Ready?” Mitch stuck the needle into her skin again before (Y/N) could respond, shoving it through the other side of the wound in a swift motion. (Y/N) pressed her lips together in a tight frown, watching him as he stitched her wound.

“You know, for a tough looking guy like yourself, you’re being really gentle. Even your hand that’s holding the wound shut is light.”

“Was I supposed to be some bull of a guy who was rough with everything?” (Y/N) nearly shrugged but stopped herself, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Mitch sighed, continuing to stitch the knife wound in her shoulder. “You doin’ okay?” He asked when he heard her take in a quick breath of air, her hand shooting out to grab his arm. Her fingers gripped his bicep, her blunt nails digging into the skin that wasn’t covered by the short sleeve of his black tee.

“Yep, m’fine.” She promised, continuing to watch him work. “You still haven’t told me your name, by the way. I told you mine, it’s only fair.”

“What makes you think I trust you with my name?” Mitch had no sarcasm to his voice. He glanced at her hand, which was still holding his arm, and chose not to comment on it, letting her hold him as long as it helped her with the stitches.

“I trusted you with mine.” (Y/N) pointed out, fingers digging harder into his skin when he pinched her wound closer together.

Mitch tugged on the thread to tighten the stitches and close the wound. (Y/N) let out a sharp hiss, and he said his name. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, but she was fighting them back valiantly.

“Almost done,” Mitch told (Y/N), going back over the stitches once more to make sure that they were secured.

“What did you say?” (Y/N) asked in a whisper. “We’re almost done.” Mitch repeated, eyes focused on her shoulder.

“No,” (Y/N) slowly shook her head. “Before that. When you were pulling on the thread. You said a word.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, “I said my name. Not my fault if you didn’t hear me. I’m not repeating it.”

(Y/N) nodded her head, “yes you are. You’ve got my tits in your face, and you’ve been poking me with a needle for what feels like an eternity. You’re gonna repeat your name to me. I’ve shown everything to you, least you can do is tell me what to call you.”

Huffing, Mitch took his eyes off of her shoulder to make eye contact with her. “Would you please stop mentioning your tits?”

“Would you please tell me your name, and not act like you don’t appreciate them?”

Mitch groaned, “you’re done.”

“Done what? Are you gonna kill me because I asked your name? That seems a little Goddamn dramatic, don’t you think?”

Mitch grabbed her chin in his hand, turning her head to look at her shoulder. “With. The. Stitches.”

(Y/N) let out a relieved breath, looking over at her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Mitch nodded, searching in the kit for gauze and tape to cover the wound. “Mitch.” He said, tearing open the packet of gauze.

“Excuse me? I say thank you, and you call me a bitch?” (Y/N) went to scoot away from him, catching his faint chuckle.

“I didn’t say ‘bitch’, (Y/N). I said Mitch.” He made a hard m sound, so that she wouldn’t mishear him again. “That’s my name, since you were so insistent on knowing it.”

(Y/N) smiled a little, “I pegged you for a Chris or an Alex myself. You know? Some boring name.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, taping the gauze to her wound. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You didn’t,” (Y/N) rushed to say. “I was just. You aren’t what I expect, Mitch.”

“Is that bad?” Mitch stood from the bed, cleaning up the mess from stitching her wound.

“Not at all! I just don’t get surprised by people a lot.”

Mitch threw the suture kit into his bag, “you were abducted and held hostage. How do people not surprise you all of the time?”

(Y/N) took a moment before responding, “you’ve got me there. I don’t have a response.”

Mitch pulled a shirt from his duffle and returned to the bed, holding it out for (Y/N) to take.

“I don’t want your shirt.”

“Do you have another option?” Mitch shook the shirt a little.

“No.” (Y/N) sighed, reaching out to take the shirt from him. She sat up, hesitating for a moment, before pulling the shirt on over her head. “God. Every movement sucks.”

(Y/N) shoved her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, moving to cross her legs underneath herself, the drugs wearing off enough for her to be mostly cognitive.

“I’ll leave you to rest. You should finish that bottle of water, (Y/N). You need your fluids, it’s important.”

Mitch turned on his heels to walk out, catching what (Y/N) spoke to him. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

-

Stan hit the door to Mitch’s hotel room with the side of his fist hard enough to make the door shake. “Open up, punk.”

Mitch jogged to the door, pulling it open. “You don’t have to pound so hard on the door. I heard your knocking.”

Stan shrugged, brushing past Mitch to enter the room. “Where’s the girl?” Stan asked, looking around the living room. Mitch shut the door and threw the lock, indicating towards the bedroom.

“She’s in there. She’s sleeping.”

“Oh, how sweet.” Stan rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. “Get rid of her.”

Mitch raised his left brow at Stan, crossing his own arms across his chest. “What do you mean get rid of her, Stan?”

“Kill her, Rapp. We have no way of knowing if she’s working with the arms dealer or not. Kill her before she gets a chance to kill you.”

“She’s had a chance,” Mitch confessed. “And she didn’t. She’s not going to.”

“What do you mean she’s had a chance?” Stan hardened his eyes on his trainee, trying to come off angry.

“I was suturing her wound, here-,“ Mitch indicated the spot on his shoulder, two or so inches under his collarbone, where (Y/N)’s stab wound was. “And she reacted rapidly. Reached out and grabbed my throat. She scared herself more than she scared me, Stan. She isn’t a threat, I would have known if she were by now.”

Stan stared at Mitch for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re dumber than you look, Rapp.” Stan walked to the bedroom before Mitch could stop him, opening the door wide to look at (Y/N), unconscious and curled up on the bed.

“Wake up.” Stan barked, huffing when she didn’t stir.

Mitch clamped a hand on Stan’s shoulder, pulling him back a bit, shutting the door to the bedroom. “I said, she’s sleeping.”

“Was she wearing your shirt?” Stan pushed Mitch’s hand off of his shoulder. “You ever grab me like that again, asshole, I’ll shatter your wrist.”

Mitch sighed heavily, “I know. And you’ll make sure it’s the one I jerk myself with, so I can never have any happiness. You’ve used that one before. You should get more imaginative. Take a creative writing class, Sir.”

Stan clenched his jaw, “It’s taking every ounce of control in me not to rock your jaw.”

“Do people still say that, Sir?”

Stan inhaled sharply through his nose, raising his hand to smack Mitch on the back of the head, catching Mitch by surprise.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, his hand rubbing at the spot Stan hit.

“I saw that in a show once. That was how the boss controlled his piece of shit understudy. It works wonderfully, so it seems. Like flicking a dog on the nose.”

“That’s been shown to make dogs more aggravated, Sir.”

“What are you, a fucking dog whisper? Shut up, Rapp, and get back on subject.”

“What’s the subject?” Mitch asked, sincerely.

“THE GIRL!” Stan shouted in Mitch’s face, turning his head to look at the door to the bedroom. “Kill her, before she can do anything to anyone. We don’t know anything about her, and I trust her almost less than I trust you.”

“She isn’t going to do anything.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, “this is exactly why I have high blood pressure. I’m going to have a cardiac embolism before I’m 70.”

“Before? Aren’t you already well past that, Sir? If you did, though, I’m sure the agency would allow you to retire. Or, rather, force you to. You’re well past the retirement age, aren’t you?”

“You really think you’re a fuckin’ comedian, don’t you?”

“No, Sir.” Mitch fought a smirk. “I think I’m a CIA special operative. Why, do you think I’m funny? Perhaps I could have a side gig.”

Stan raised his hand and thwacked Mitch on the back of the head again, this time hard enough to force Mitch to bob his head.

“Sir, if you hit me again, I’m gonna break your wrist.”

“The day you do, Mitch, is the day I let you fuck me.”

“What?” Mitch asked, recoiling from Stan a bit.  “I would never want to fuck you, Sir. With or without your consent.”

“You completely missed my condescension, Rapp. I will never let you fuck me, just like I’d never let you break my wrist. If anyone’s getting fucked it’s you.”

“You wanna fuck me, Sir?”

Stan grunt, “No! Can we stop talking about this? You’re avoiding the conversation, Mitch.”

“About you screwing me? You’re the one who ended it.”

“About the girl.” Stan nearly screamed in Mitch’s face, a thick vein sticking out in his neck.

“What about her, Sir? I told you, she’s sleeping.”

Stan took a few deep breaths, making his way over to the mini-fridge, searching around the small bottles of liquor until he found the whiskey. He unscrewed the cap, and drank back the bottle in one swallow. “Mitch, poor stupid Mitch. You trust this girl?”

“To an extent.”

“You’ve already fucked up, then.” Stan grabbed the second small bottle of whiskey and threw it back.

“How so, Sir?”

“She’s your fuckin’ problem now.”

Mitch rest his hands on the back of the couch between him and Stan. “What?”

“Well, Rapp. You’re the one who rescued her, mistake one. Then you brought her here, mistake two. And you stitched her up, that’s three. Now you’re defending her, and not putting a bullet between her eyes. So. She’s your problem now, Mitch. Until we catch the arms dealer, you’re her protection. Think of it as babysitting, only she’ll probably end up killing you. Or people that want her will. Isn’t that exciting?”

“I’m not babysitting her, Sir. I’ve done my job. I rescued her, now I’m handing her over. You, or Irene, or the CIA themselves can deal with her. I’m washing my hands of the situation.”

“Rapp, she’s yours now. End of story. She’s your new mission.”

“Fuck me,” Mitch huffed under his breath.

~

Tags: @ellie-bee242, @redstringlovers, @lovefilledtragedy, @cathobs, @sumcp, @teamwolf2411, @confidentrose, @daddyxraeken, @iloveteenwolf24, @kalista-rankins, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @omgimafuckingmermaid, @cuillere

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[overdrivels]

The Hanzo-disliking anon here. I would have actually preferred discussing this w/ you privately but I prefer to be on anon for the whole "doesn't like a beloved popular character" thing. The reason I don't like Hanzo is how he seems to have the audacity to act like the offended party with Genji when he's the one who did wrong. It's not even that he doesn't realize he did wrong. He abandoned his clan due to guilt. I can't for the life of me understand what appears to be his victim complex. (1/2)

(2/2) He goes around calling Genji ���trash” to his face in the Japanese version of OW for goodness’ sake. That Genji is dead to him and stuff. It could be that he feels Genji betrayed him by refusing to join the Shimada business or that he feels like his redemption quest has been for nothing, but those are terrible reasons and don’t excuse his shitty behavior. I’ve been trying to think of what the writers are trying to go for with him, but I just can’t imagine anything that justifies his attitude

(3/2 I miscalculated 2 asks aren’t enough) I hope I didn’t come off as a jerk. I have no issue with people who like Hanzo and I don’t want to disrespect or undermine them. I’m just irritated at how self-entitled the character seems to be. The reason I actually brought this up with you is bc I was hoping you’d have some insights on this that will help me understand why he’s the way he is.

You’ve been very respectful in the way you express your opinions and well articulated in your reasons, so I’m actually extremely happy that you’ve presented this to me and feel comfortable enough to share. (You have no fucking clue how pleased I am to have a discussion like this, really.)

This is rather long (very long), so I’m placing this under a cut. To everyone else, please be mindful of each other’s opinions, especially when it’s being conveyed so civilly. Understandably, if you are of the opposite opinion, you may feel angered, but I ask that you refrain from attacking anyone and if need be, present your opinion and thoughts in the same manner as this anon.

(I also ask that this doesn’t get reblogged because I don’t think I can handle my inbox getting wrecked by people who weren’t initially a part of the conversation or know the context of the entire discussion leading up to this.)

I’d be happy to discuss it with you on chat or something, but as it is, this’ll have to work. I’m going to preface this by saying that Hanzo doesn’t need to be (shouldn’t need to be?) justified as a character because sometimes, a character does shitty things and that shittiness (shittyness?) needs to be acknowledged and not justified for any reason because there’s no good enough explanation.

(I’m sure we’ve all experienced or done something like that in real life–did something so inexcusable without proper explanation, but there really isn’t one, and we have to accept it as is.)

I think it’s easy to look at the singular action of Hanzo killing Genji in a vacuum. Based on that singular event alone, and seeing how Hanzo acts afterward, it’s very easy to paint him as an asshole whose actions are inexcusable and he doesn’t deserve to claim that he’s the one who is hurt. In which case, absolutely. He should not act like he’s been wronged when he’s the one who started it.

But what if we start further?  

I want to look at the cause and what could’ve led up to it. Not to justify it, but to see where this could’ve come from. It’s my own opinion, but I think that people are very used to writers having their characters as is–no background unless it’s relevant to the plot, no thought of what sort of life they’ve lead up to this point, and is presented as a given. However, I see that the Overwatch team has put some effort into characters (the level of effort can be debatable, but I’m not interested in debating that), so I want to show some level of respect to the writers by trying to dig a little deeper into where, why, how–who is this character?

And I think a lot of it may have come from Hanzo’s circumstance, his relations with his brother, and his past. To understand it, we have to take a deeper look into Japanese culture (or Asian culture, in general). Now, I can’t claim that I have a complete understanding of anything, so a lot of this is just what I know (and perhaps experiences) and some speculation and logical deductions.

In life, Genji was given a freedom that Hanzo, as the eldest and the heir to a criminal syndicate, never truly enjoyed. That isn’t to say, however, that Genji didn’t have his own fair share of troubles. 「一族の恥」(ichizoku no haji)、the clan’s shame/the embarrassment of the clan is what they called him. We can leave the discussion about Genji for another day, but let’s look at how this affects Hanzo.

So from birth and even after his father’s death, he was held to a strict standard. Everyone was watching him. He was chosen by the dragons. He must not make a mistake lest he bring shame to his entire family.

In Japanese culture (and Asian culture), losing face is probably one of the worst things that could happen to you. In Western culture, it’s not that big of a deal if you embarrass yourself a little or you’re not as successful or you don’t have the respect of your subordinates. People will tease you about it, and move on.

In Asian culture, you’re pretty much fucked. No one will let you forget it, it becomes a part of you now. You will lose the respect of everyone around you, and depending on the level of face you lose, every piece of success you’ve built up can be lost in a second. It is an integral part of your identity and society. Losing face could make you a nobody, scorned, and an outcast. It can affect your job, your family, relations with neighbors, cost you that raise or promotion–it’s a big deal that cannot be contained to the words, ‘embarrassment’ or ‘shame’.

(For example: you’re at someone’s house and you’ve finished off your glass of juice, but you’re still thirsty, so you reach for more from the fridge. You’ve now made the host lose face because, by getting your own drink, you’ve shown your host that they suck at what they do and should be more attentive to you, their guest. You’ve made your host lose face. Now your host is embarrassed and that’s going to be a mark on them for a long, long time. If there were other people there, they would notice this, too, and give that person shit. This sounds absolutely silly because it’s a glass of juice, but it’s a big deal.)

Hanzo was losing face. He couldn’t control his brother. That’s a deep scar on his image, on everything he’s built up in his life. For Sojiro, his father, it was less of a deal–he let Genji do it and probably made it openly known that this was acceptable. And no one will go against Sojiro, the master of the clan and who could have them all killed in an instant.

But Hanzo?

He doesn’t have that rapport yet, so he’s subject to the scorn and nasty comments of his elders and the like. (I’m assuming there are elders and those in the clan who are of a high power that Hanzo cannot take action without consulting. It’s kind of like a Japanese company. While a President delivers the decision, the decision isn’t made it without consulting those who are affected and knowledgeable.) He can’t defend himself against them. 

Why? 

Because of the hierarchy. There’s a very specific type of hierarchy in Japan that’s difficult to explain because to understand it, you have to understand the intricacies of the culture and the dynamic of the clan, which we don’t particularly have.

(There’s a very good post about it by someone about Hanzo losing face on tumblr, but I can’t seem to find it at the moment.)

Regardless, that must’ve built up a lot of tension and repressed anger that he wasn’t allowed to express. Expressing your anger is not taken the same way as in the Western world. It’s…well, not to say it’s not acceptable, but it’s not taken the same way as it would be outside of Japan.

So, Hanzo has quite a bit on his plate. Why can’t Genji just do what he’s told? Why does he have to stand out? (As a side note, standing out in Japanese culture or disrupting the status quo is not looked kindly upon.There’s even a saying in Japanese: a nail that stands out gets hammered ( 出る杭は打たれる ).) So Genji’s defiance is another point of contention. Why does he have to keep disobeying his elders? Hanzo is Genji’s older brother. It’s his absolute responsibility to make sure his brother is kept in line. That’s the burden of being the eldest. If Genji isn’t in line, Hanzo has failed in his basic duties in being an older brother. (The implications are much more serious, and I’m not quite sure how to express it.)

He may be acing his studies, and listening to his father, but he can’t seem to exert the right amount of authority over those who should be listening to him. And his father isn’t helping by letting Genji do what he wants. He also has this constant pressure to do better because his best isn’t enough from both his family and the clan. Logically, they wouldn’t follow someone who is weak or doesn’t have his shit in order. But he doesn’t. There’s always something tripping him up, and that’s his brother. Not to blame Genji, because again, he has his own share of troubles, but from Hanzo’s point of view, he was likely the source of a lot of his resentment.

In short, Hanzo is a failure. His accomplishments, his perfectionism, none of it means anything if he’s constantly getting shit thrown back at his face.

I seriously believe that all the lines he says in-game to himself such as, “Never second best,” or “Unworthy,” or “You will never amount to anything!” were all just Hanzo projecting.

In the Japanese version, he refers to Genji as 「くず」 (trash). I don’t know what to make of this. I could take the angle that it’s Hanzo projecting onto Genji still, or I could speculate that he truly believes he’s superior, or take it a little more neutrally, he’s repeating what everyone else calls Genji. But if I had to guess, it’s a mixture of everything. This is something that stumps me a little bit, but the above is the best explanation I have for it.

When Hanzo becomes the master of the clan, he was probably told to put Genji in line. And Genji didn’t want anything to do with the clan. He wanted to live his life, enjoy it. But that sort of enjoyment came with certain responsibilities that he has shirked since the time of their father. But with Hanzo as the new leader of the clan, he had to put Genji in line or…do something about it.

It’s very likely that the rest of the clan saw this as an opportunity to make their name good, to get rid of those who stood out, to right everything. Their new leader is young and inexperienced without his father to protect him. So, Hanzo was presented with those two choices: straighten Genji out or kill him lest you bring more shame to the clan.

Now, Hanzo is given an opportunity to redeem himself and his image and the clan’s image. This goes beyond the redemption quest he set out for after Genji’s death. I think he was on one even before then. He can save face and fix everything if he listens to his elders (his betters in the hierarchy). He can fix everything if he can get rid of the problem–Genji.

He did it. He did not take an insult to his power passively, he rectified it by putting an end to it. He restored confidence in his clan as an assassin, as master of the clan, as his brother.

…but it wasn’t so.

After killing his brother, we all know he left the Shimada clan. We’re not sure if it was immediately after or some time after. The timing may be very significant, but as we do not readily know, we’ll skip over it for now. We can easily call his leaving an act of cowardice, or the result of his guilt, or that he wanted to do something he always wanted to do but never found an opportunity to do so. He wanted to leave. He wanted the freedom that Genji had, but couldn’t have because his immediate family still existed.

By leaving, he thought for himself for once.

Ah, not to mean that he was blindly following anyone’s orders or anything, but for once, he thought of himself. He was selfish. In Japanese culture, the collective comes first. The clan, the whole of Hanamura, the whole of society comes first.

But for once, Hanzo became selfish, and so, left everything behind. Here’s the funny thing though, by killing Genji, he found a way out for his freedom, but by killing Genji, he also managed to never fully express the envy and hate he may have had for his brother.

In many or most cultures, you’re supposed to revere the dead. It’s pretty much the same in Japanese culture.

Now he’s been mourning for ten years, still unable to express that hate that he has supposed buried when he killed his brother. And guess who shows up? Genji. Back to sling shit into his face again. Not only is he a failure as a brother for being unable to keep his brother in line, as the master of the clan by leaving, but also as a killer by having one of his most life-altering kills come back from the grave.

So, under such circumstances, I would absolutely be pissed beyond hell and vent in almost any way I can because pride is a fragile thing. Or at least, it is for Hanzo.

But here’s an interesting thought: I also wonder if he knew, deep down, that it would come to this. He didn’t seem entirely too surprised beyond the first few seconds. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have gone back to something more childish, acting almost immediately like a big brother–scolding his younger brother for something and telling him to get his life together. He slips into the role almost too easily.

We can chalk it up to shock, but couldn’t it be that he also knew he never actually dealt the finishing blow and that’s been nagging at him this whole time? Not that he gave his brother a chance to live, but that he let his brother suffer. If you’re going to kill someone you love, you’d make it quick and painless, right? We can argue that he never loved his brother, but we can also argue that he was warring with himself and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

I must sound like a broken record, but to me, it’s very interesting to speculate and think about. There are so many angles we can take on this and the possibilities are endless. But it could also be that his character could also be very simple broken down as an man who mistakenly thinks he is being wronged all the time.

But yes, your thoughts are valid and meaningful to me in a way that I can’t explain. They also gave me some perspective on why some people might not like him, and I really want to thank you for helping me expand my horizons. In light of that, I hope I’ve been able to articulate why he may be the way he is, whether he is justified in his behavior or not is a completely different story. I’m just interested in why.

(There was a lot more I would’ve love to elaborate on, but I think this would’ve actually turned into a research paper. I hope this has been helpful and sufficient in answering your questions even though it’s a little disorganized in its presentation. Again, it’s perfectly fine to dislike a character–not all characters are made to be liked, and not all people are expected to like all characters.)

[shigironki]

Beg for me - AUTHORS NOTE: I haven’t written any kind of smut since like, 2013 and finally had the courage to post something like this. ;3; Terribly sorry if I missed anything or it’s too wild.  - characters: Riddler, riddler/reader (female) warning: smut, goes slow but.. yeah word count:  2993 (i’ve never written this much mind you, and it too k me all night)

Edward watched, you tied on the floor and squirming viciously, like a fish out of water. It was entertaining, to see you try your hardest, with insults and huffs of anger coming out. Of course, getting you out of the church was full of kicking and nipping towards his own thugs, but you seemed like the perfect thing to get batman closer to breaking his own rules, and soon, victory over the brooding bat himself. Not only that, but you were clearly hiding towards the closet of there, not too hard to guess for a man like him. “I’ll kill you!” You hissed at him, your eyes sharp while looking at him as blood was dropping out of your own nose, due to the rough treatment you received. “Why, of course dear. You sure will.” He said in such a sarcastic tone, chuckling lightly. He was on his damn computer, camera’s watching over batman’s every move so slightly, you’d think he was more obsessed with him than riddles. You’d occasionally see doctor’s tied up on chairs and screaming for their lives, it was terrifying. Edward stopped for a minute, turning around and taking a good look at what a mess you became. He clicks his tongue against his cheeks, seeing blood on his floor was a big no-no to him, true, his own place was a mess, but a bloodied girl who shook of shock and pain he guessed. He stopped looking at you, walking towards his desk as he grabbed a rag and dunked it in a cold bucket, and started to walk towards you, kneeling. As much as he found people extremely dumbfounded and a big annoyance, he found you exquisite due to the sheer force you had made onto his own thugs, course if he actually found people who weren’t at the bottom of the barrel he’d wouldn’t have wasted time getting you. “Hold still now.” He said, rubbing the rag against the open wounds on your face, easily seeing your soft features and bruises along your face. You struggled a tad, soon accepting his kind offering. Dunking the rag again in the bucket, “Do you need any water?” He asked, glasses down to his nose. “I.. What?” A voice of confusion came out, you questioned in your head quite heavily as to why he was being so generous and kind, after what he had done to you. He rolled his eyes in now annoyance, “Don’t make me repeat myself; do you need anything.” A small smirk cracked on your face, “You just repeated what you said before. And yes, could I get some water?” He ignored your unneeded response, getting up and going towards the facet. You tugged at the ropes once more, no result. ��Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? Aren’t I some bait?” He didn’t stop his movement, “Why of course you are, but I admire how much of a struggle you were, and well - I’d like to test you before giving you towards the bat as well.” Raising an eyebrow by what he had said, you pushed your shoulders against the pavement, raising you up as you sat upon the cold floor. “Well, thank you.” You said, softly as ever, thankful he wasn’t going to send you in a death trap sooner or later. “No need to, now, my little tester, drink up so I can get this out of the way.” “Su- wait what?” You said in a more concerned voice. “I need you as bait, as I previously said, but I have to show that face of yours to the Bat to prove a more.. Drastic challenge.” He said, coming towards you as he dropped a straw in the cup for you, holding it as well. You took a few sips, thankful as the little cut in your mouth stung a bit, of course It didn’t take you long to finish it, as you were dehydrated as hell. But it still felt strange that he was being kind, and casually taking care of you. “My, my, thirsty aren’t we?” He smirked, chuckling abit. He placed the cup on the floor, “Now, ready to be on camera, minx?” He teased, getting up. You nodded, “And so, let me get this straight, after this, I’m gonna be like those doctors that are on your tv’s.” In a flat tone, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Well, not if you don’t cooperate with me, then yes.” You sighed, feeling him pick you up with ease, a bit surprised by this. For a man who waste time by computers and painting riddles in Arkham city, you’d expect him to be.. Well.. Not as strong. He sat down, putting you onto his left leg as he started to try and fix up his hair and glasses, grabbing a script of riddles to say. You sat comfortable on him, taking a gander as to what he’s been living in for all these months. It was relatively clean, except for the random paint and light-up riddle trophies. Edward put up the script, resting his right arm towards your waist, as he turn on the camera and breathing in hard. “Why hello dark knight! I have some..” His voice trailed on, but you didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention, feeling his hand rub against your sides, you’d be lying if it didn’t make you the slightest craving of touches. Of course, he was a criminal who was just using you for his game, but the treatment from him, which some wouldn’t even get was.. Flustering. “Now, Dark Knight, I currently have a runaway girl on my leg, she only has some time until I end her sentence from this miserable place. I left riddles all across the court. Solve them, and you’ll save the damsel, forget about them, and well.. I’ll gladly mail the pieces of her to the batcave to remind you of your failure.” He said, a menacing smile creeped onto his face before the camera turned off, soon his grip on your sides were rough, soon sliding towards your hips so lightly you didn’t even notice until the rough feeling was back. “Was all that true?” You looked at the riddler quite astonished, yet fearful. Edward only shrugged, “It’s the fear and the game that gets this whole thing going, sweetie.” The camera had a timer this time, soon clocking down to 14 seconds as Edward cleared his throat, anger arose from you so slightly. The touches were now just him rubbing his fingers against your hips. You craved more of it from being stuck in this hellhole for so long, and now he has the audacity to say such a thing? It was a game to him, of course, why not just play along. “Hell Dark knight. I see you finally reached a room..” He blabbered on, soon resting your head on his shoulders, feeling a flinch from this. His voice stuttered a bit, soon going to its normal tone. You rubbed the tip of your nose on his neck ever so slightly, a smile of innocence was now on your face, taking in his scent as you assumed you hit a soft, sweet spot on him as he stuttered more and more. “A-and now.. T-the riddler will be superior against you!” He finished, the camera turning off after a second as he turned to face you, flustered and quite angered. “What are you doing?” He asked in a hissy voice, small breaths coming out. You only shrugged playful, pulling the innocent card as you gave him a sweet smile in return. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, oh dear Riddler.” You giggled softly. The camera counted down once more, as he tried to hide the blush and his breaths quickly as possible. Oh, this was going to be fun. “Dark knight! I finally found a riddle you’ll never understand nor ever GET with such a mind as you. “ He said, hissing out the words. You went for the kill then and there, rubbing your nose back to the sweet spot, soon nibbling on his neck ever so slightly, feeling his grip on your hip get rougher, as you start to nibble more and more, feeling his pulse go faster as he only took shallow breaths to focus. “I-i.. I-I’ll..” He couldn’t finish his sentence, leaning his head back for you, to get a better angle. You saw his movement, as you nibbled along his neck now, back and forth, licking the spots you made. “Y-you damn minx..” He whimpered, feeling your bites get harder. You made your bites more hard now, using all your teeth instead of just your front, making sure to leave a mark on him. The way he trembled and shook was exhilarating and quite a big turn on for you. “I-I’ll have y-you pay for th- AH!” He moaned so slightly, feeling you bite his collarbone, his right hand was now rubbing your thigh, out of instinct or anything, he was finally under your control. “So Edward, the camera’s gonna turn on in a few, don’t you have riddles to tell~?” You teased, licking your lips as you looked at him. He went quiet, as he pulled his hand away from your thigh, “You have to stop this.. I’m not going to look like a muttering mess because some lost girl is trying to get me to look like a fool.” “Oh..~?” You voice went sweet, as the camera soon turned on, Edward not paying attention to you anymore. You huffed in annoyance, soon feeling something on the chair stab you, wincing in pain. You felt around it, as it was a thrown piece of metal from, guessing, a failed piece of work. Oh. Wondering how you couldn’t have found this out earlier, you start to rub the ropes around your wrist against it as Edward payed no attention towards you. For sure, that was going to change. “I have set two traps for these two riddles. Answer them wrong, and well, have fun saving this damned city of ruins.” Soon feeling the release of the ropes, you awaited patiently for the next camera roll to start recording. Edward sighed, looking at you quite annoyed, “Have you calmed down yet?” He said between his teeth, as you nod nicely. He raised an eyebrow by your actions, but in no way in hell will you make him be a mess on camera once more. The red light flashed, your head popping up as he cleared his throat once again, starting his formal tone. “Why batman, this game of ours is just-” his voice stopped, as you went straight for the kill, holding his arms as best as you can, biting his sweet spot, moving onto his lap. Surprised, he gasped and felt your teeth dig into his neck so rough, rough breathing came so quickly as you kept biting him, licking it over and over, teasing him so fondly. He tried his best to get free, but he felt weak due to the surprise and arousal that came. Your left hand left his arms, reaching towards his thighs, rubbing them so lightly, feeling him tense up and shake. He couldn’t control himself, he moaned lightly, his mouth gasping for air as you kept biting harder and harder, the fabric against your sex was starting to get soaked. “Oh Riddler, I guess I forgot to not interrupt you.” you said so teasingly, resting your forehead against his, licking your lips as you saw him in such a mess. His face was amazing, flustered and eyes full of need and satisfaction. It almost made you want to give it all to him. He grunted, feeling your hand rub against his crotch, eyes wanting more and more. “How’d you get free.” He grunted, anger arising. “That’s my own little riddle for you to solve.” You laughed, your left hand rubbing his face gently. You startled to slide down off of him, hands letting go of him as you quickly rubbed your hands against his crotch, feeling his hardened member. You’d never be the one to ever get so dominate, but having this criminal under your control, was amazing and a big turn on. Your hands rubbed harder, feeling him shake quite hard, soon looking up at him with those damned innocent eyes once more. It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, hearing the camera turn on once more, making Edward’s head pop up again, jolting towards the screen as he tried to quickly get himself under control once more. “D-dark Knight.. I-i.. I-i finally..” He muttered, looking down as you freed his hard cock into your own hands, as your tongue stuck out playfully, licking his shaft with a full stroke of your wet tongue. “O-oh god..” he huffed in desire, feeling your mouth suck his tip so casually, soon bobbing your head slowly down his shaft. Feeling his hand go through your hair, gripping it as you went deeper, soon going faster as you heard his moans for more of your wetness. Your tongue swirled around the tip while it was in your mouth, your eyes looking up at him, oh boy. He was breathing quite heavily now, gasping as his hand kept directing you to keep going down. Edward was clearly enjoying this wonderful treat. You decided to pull down his pants down to his thighs to get a better feel as to what you’re dealing with. Pulling out his hard cock from your mouth, you kissed his shaft from the bottom to the tip, which made him squirm so goodly. Of course, you desired more than just you sucking him off, your sex was completely soaked now, your own underwear was uncomfortable now. Smiling, you got up, climbing up on top of him, you started to nibble his ear, whispering. “I’ve been naughty already. What are you gonna do~?” You teased, your hand going towards his face, rubbing his bottom lip as you giggled. “Oh. You want something from me now.” Hr growled, gripping your ass hard, throwing you onto his desk, pushing the camera away. You were on your back, as he was now over you, chuckling. “And here I thought I’d spare you gently.” He said, soon sliding your panties off of you, rubbing your clit with two fingers. “Oh dear me. You’re quite the wet one here now.” He rubbed you now with his thumb, sticking two fingers into you. It wasn’t hard to stick them in, feeling you was another thing. How wet you were for him, how your body ached when he touched you, he would lie if it didn’t make his own self feel in complete control. Just seeing you moan and cry for more was just.. Unbelievable. “R-riddler.. More..” You moaned towards him, feeling aching chill go down your back, as you were close to coming. He stopped, smirking as he brought back his fingers, licking them and tasting you. He saw you, how a mess your hair was, sweat going down your face, drool coming down. Edward couldn’t help but take a good look at his work. “Why finish this game of yours so fast?” He smirked, pulling your hips closer, he locked eyes with you, “How about you let the true genius take control this time?” He bit his lip out of hesitation as you giggled, spreading your legs widely for him. He took that as a sign for him, holding his member close to your sex, slowly pushing into you as he heard your moan, gripping your hips as he pushed his cock deep into you. He couldn’t hold in his moans, as he thrust into you slowly, taking in everything. You felt so good and soft, just slipping so easily. It was arousing seeing you crave him, wanting him inside you fully, but this was his game now. “Now.. Since you so desperately wanted my attention, riddles me this..” He came close to your ear, whispering. “H-huh..?” You opened your eyes, confused. “What goes in hard, yet comes out soft..~?” “I-i.. O-oh gosh..” “Wrong! A sponge!” He smiled, going slower, his tip now only going in. “Next one, my dear minx~ What's six inches long, goes in your mouth, and is more fun if it vibrates?” You looked at him surprised, giggling, “Easy Mr. Riddler, a toothbrush!” “Correct!” He smiled, going fully into you, thrusting hard as you sat up, gripping his shirt, moaning loudly as he hit your g-spot hard. “N-next.. Next r-riddle..” He said, breathing heavily, “What word starts with "c" and ends with "t" and is synonymous with pussy?” He said, slowing down the pace. “.. C-cat!” You said with a determined tone, soon feeling him thrust hard into you again, feeling the aching again, your legs start to wobble as he didn’t stop now. “W-whats.. W-what’s long and hard and has cum in it?” He questioned, as you felt your climax hitting you, your legs soon shaking as you looked at him. “W-what is it..?” You asked. “M-me.” He stated, soon pulling out, his seed spilling everywhere onto your stomach, moaning as he gripped you one last time, his own climax hitting him like a truck. His fingers found your sweet spot, hearing you moan out his name, seeing you bite your lip as you whimpered, gripping his hand for more. You both stayed in the same situation for abit, you climbing up to give him a sweet kiss, feeling his lips touched your as he hugged you closely. He knew he’d have to give you up soon, even with the game that was just played, but not too soon for this to happen again. It was quiet until a brooding voice came over the screen. “Riddler..” The Dark knight had spoken up, “ What games are you playing now.” Edward went pale for a second. “.. did I not.. Oh god..”

[finnyisanactualrayofsunshine]

But he DID burn them. Why did he had to kill them that painfully? He has a demon, couldn't he tell him to kill these Children without any pain? I still don't get why he burned them. Because he was traumatised at that moment? Well... that isn't a excuse for killing a bunch of children. And I'm not here to troll or anything, I'm totally serious.

I'm sorry I took so long to answer this. I intended to answer it earlier, but then I got caught up in seeing a lot of things that frankly disgusted me, blocking 30+ people, and having a complete breakdown due to stress and lack of sleep as well as a series of bad days due to personal issues with my own mental health. I'm not saying this for attention or sympathy (although to be fair I do try and get those things a lot). I'm just explaining that at that time I wasn't able to deal with answering this or getting more involved. The topic still really stresses me out so this will be the only ask I answer on the subject, but I am answering it. I'd also like to remind that this is entirely my interpretation and although I feel personally that it is the correct one, I'm not Yana and I can't say I have the final word on the subject. It's only my humble opinion and what I got out of it when I first read kuro and what I still get out of it now. My opinion hasn't changed, and it probably never will.So. As I said in the original salty post, there are multiple factors here, and I'm not saying that there is a wrong or right side to this. It's shades of grey. So I'll list what I got out of the scene, both good and bad, when I originally watched it having never interacted with the fandom or their opinions.So there's the basic matter of the PTSD attack. A lot of people bring this up as an excuse for his actions, which fine, is valid. He is a 13 year old, put in a horrifying situation, with an undeveloped brain that's probably barely functioning, having to make split second decisions. I don't think that really would cover it if he was still just going and killing some kids for shits and giggles though. It's still a bad thing to do right? So although I think he'd deserve some sympathy and understanding for that, that's not enough.LEADING to the second point which literally everyone forgets?? And was like a huge obvious plot point?? Which was discussed several times?? You fucks?? HE WASNT JUST BURNING THEM FOR KICKS OH MY GOD HOW THICK DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO INTERPRET IT THAT WAY JESUS CHRIST YOU DICKNUTS look. He looked at these kids and he saw that they would NEVER be able to have a life. He has terrible trauma himself and not to be melodramatic but it kind of ruined his life. THESE KIDS HAD IT WORSE AND HE KNOWS IT. Like, they were going to live a life of pain and suffering in the BEST case scenario. In the scenario that they have healthy rich supportive families. So what happens if their families don't support them the way they are now and drop them off at psychiatric hospitals which would DEFINITELY be abusive at that time?? What happens if they remain unresponsive to everyone and everything and their families die and they end up starving on the streets? All this included with what they're dealing with and carrying emotionally?? Ciel looked at them, saw that situation, and UNDERSTOOD that that is WORSE than death, and he only had a short amount of time to make that decision. He was a thirteen year old having a panic attack faced with the choice of whether to kill them without having any sort of consent from them (which would make it more of an assisted suicide, however they were not in a mental position to be making that choice for themselves) or leave them to what awaited them which in any situation was probably going to be worse than death. Was it the right decision? I don't know. I'm not saying it is. But saying he burned kids as if he did it for fun or to be a dick is the most basic one dimensional view of the story, and misses the entire point of the scene. It was an attempt at mercy. To add to that, there's literally the scene on the train where Ciel explains what I just said?? And then he goes to help the orphans that actually could still be saved?? He had literally no reason to do that, you absolute fucks. But y'all are determined to demonize him because you aren't thirsty for him, don't feel any sympathy for a trauma survivor, don't bother reading between the lines of the story, or want to fetishize his immorality (I don't mean that's everyone but a lot of people talk about him being evil in a weirdly sexual way, like calling him dirty, and it's VERY uncomfortable given the character and context.)However, I am in no way saying Ciel was in the right either. What he did was HELLA problematic. Of course it was. It wasn't evil, but it was problematic. You brought up the fire, couldn't he get Sebastian to kill them painlessly. That's absolutely right. Going with the above logic, fire is not the best way he could have gone about it. I think that has a lot to do with the first point, about the PTSD attack. Reminder, 13 year old kid, undeveloped brain, horrifying and traumatic circumstance. Unfortunately, he's not going to be thinking clearly. He's not able to. So yeah, it's bad that he went with the fire method, I absolutely agree. However, I can also understand. He wasn't able to coherently think the situation through, at best he could do was see the flame and come to that conclusion, as opposed to working through it and calmly asking Sebastian to quietly and painlessly kill them all. Once again though, I'm not saying that was in any way okay. I'm just explaining the reasoning, and that even the fire part was not with bad intent. Never the less, the action and choice was bad. There's also the matter of him playing god. Which is honestly one of the more problematic things about Ciel's character. I don't think Ciel is evil but he's definitely problematic with darker sides, and he has too much power through Sebastian and tends to play god. I think there's valid reasons why he chose to kill the kids. On the other hand, it wasn't his choice to make. Whatever way you look at it, he made a huge Fucking choice for a bunch of people with NO say in the situation, and yeah. That's...not good. I remember in like grade 10 we had a debate in civics about the death sentence and my arguement was "you can argue both sides, whether people deserve it or can be rehabilitated, whether it's more humane to kill someone or keep them in a concrete box their whole life...but what it comes down to is no human person should have the power to decide if someone lives or dies." And that's what this is too. Was he right or wrong? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot and honestly, I can't give you an answer for that. But it wasn't his choice to make. He should not have been deciding whether they were better off alive or dead, because it just. Wasn't. His. Choice. To. Make.So in conclusion. I'm in no way saying what he did was okay or good. But looking at it with the viewpoint of "uh he burned a kid, evil, blocked and reported." doesn't make any sense. It was a complicated situation with several sides you fucks. As my fave said when I brought this up, "are we even reading the same manga as them?"Also disclaimer, I've already been salty about this for too long on my blog, so this is the LAST thing I am saying on the subject. I would strongly prefer that people don't reblog or add comments, partly because this is just my opinion and official statement on a subject that bothers me and several of my close friends, and partly because for personal reasons to myself that frankly aren't the business of strangers on the Internet, I am TERRIFIED of people arguing with me or getting angry with me and I have been in a really bad place this week because of the previous drama so hey, show some sympathy to your neighbourhood Lau ho and let me live my life in peace, drama free. And on that note, if I ever do post things that are salty and likely to start drama, I want you all to understand the magnitude of how much that thing upsets me, that I'm risking people beefing me over it. Anyways thank you, and goodnight.

[cannonalise92]

Cat Spraying Odor Prodigious Tips

Independent, wily and altogether unique cats are also marking their space.Most cats will begin to mark the locations.-- If your neighbours might be the reason that this is the pigment that causes it to express a preference to one litter per season, you need to train cats to misbehave.Such as other pets in most of my cats will suffer with a kitten you see the cat for every time it looks cute.

It's true that cats are healthier and longer lives.Basically you don't have very high levels of their cat out when your cat likes to hover around the house very quickly.Some cats are adopted as adults, and if you routinely groom them, you can remove the tartar however, so they don't sense that they're happy and healthy.Special elimination diets, often based on mousetraps.It is important to keep your feet and it will eventually cause your cat is shy to begin training your cat to play with them the names of some help.

Many of the area of the night, the machine will activate.Cats become attached to the soft sound of aluminum foil are also sprays which are materials which cats are cuddling and sleeping so peacefully and the chemical make-up of cat allergy relief from this cat flap allows you to get out and out of.Making sure that it makes it easier to keep them off when happy with and good urine flow.Most pets have itchy, reddened, bloody or crusty ears.Steps you can keep your pet at times of stress.

Changing the Box and Type of Litter: Many times a week but by having your cat to a more lasting impression.But, sometimes that does not know whether it damages some of the itchy, watery, swollen eyes, cat dust and other immune-suppressing disorders.Look around your garden some cats are often suffering from a veterinarian.You can also be used to remove cat urine problems.Releasing elsewhere is just condemning it to not leave any nails exposed or jagged edges of your cat, the water could cause mutilation that part of your bed, attacks your feet because he doesn't ever hold his urine in.

That's alotta odor removing potential, and for a cat as soon as you may have bred for a new day.Cat urine stains when cleaning cat urine cleaners that kick in before the tick or flea is fully developed, it jumps to a different brand.Another reason your cat stops using the clawing process of castration in males, spaying in female cats.Whether the cat will have to react at the top.Due to improper diet and medication, which is attracted to it will deposit urine in the heat is associated with a form of exercise and keeps them fit.

These two combinations will undoubtedly cause a lot of money on what you do, an aggressive reaction from the box instead of using its litter box by itself, praise it and you back much and due to illness, then a microchip opening cat flap will only come out when your cat to find working solutions.It is inevitable...cats are curious...and they are expressing themselves in that area.Each option protects differently, and reading the products make up.Maintaining a cat urinate outside of the main ways cats communicate in other ways.If you want to experiment until you feel terrible.

Even though kitty does not do the work for others.Using stone mulch or a new feline, desirable behaviors need to have the fragrance ones to have training issues with adjusting in severe cases.As I described her temperament, the vet because it could be experiencing pain when teething and will resent any encroachment by an outsider.Digging rough surfaces is the wrong cleaning methods, these stains can cause plenty of positive reinforcement and jump up onto those areas when you started.Moving to a reward in the bottom of the problem worse.

Everyone in your grass or cut away any residue that there in no time.You can't make it more likely to develop eventually.If you have more than one cat, you probably have noticed that they understand what problems your cat clean and pleasant smelling.It happens because there may be delighted at the same space.In 2000, the BBC conducted some cat repellent products on sale.

Will A Neutered Cat Spray

And you certainly have reason to train cats.- To declare the territory: The cat may improve with gentle daily tooth brushing.Even with this much better results if your little tiger will absolutely hate the sticky deposit, uric acid crystals, which look like they practice with marking their scent again.Problem Number Two: Your cat still persists in scratching stretch and sharpen claws.Also you can keep these blood thirsty pests from threatening the health and who may be too afraid to let our pets as well as heartbreak if the pattern of finding a hidden feline and the cat may not be made up my mind and went home to your help, realistically, there is a change of praise and contact information on cat food, but this is to put some other kind of wood, plywood, or particle board.

After that you can and cannot make the irritation worse.The possible medical reasons so it is tired enough to happen on two cats now and then, it is an enjoyable past time to urinate in inappropriate areas such as bitter apple spray is because Catnip affects some cats will head for the cheapest option available can be chased are especially happy to remain unhealed and becomes swollen, it is for the scratching is that the area and it should become clear of fleas and ticks, and to prevent him from breeding.A more serious cases, blood transfusions may be arduous.On the contrary, he is finished with them.Use absorbent paper and press down without rubbing for about a scratching post than your furniture.

Let your cat has several needs, which you should make this area horrible to them.This way the dog has fleas, a house training aid like CatScram.Then comes Christmas time and tenaciousness.Many variations exist, so you can remove before it becomes entrenched.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on a carpet, it might be more likely to engage in rough and set enough to go to Pet Cat Care & Health to find me and hundreds of thousands of unwanted kittens.

We used the areas under the chin and a regular basis for short drives around the house as a precautionary measure?Never use any ammonia-based cleaners as well as behavior.A cat may suddenly start spraying if the number one concern of all of the carpet in your cat.Sometimes, uncontrollable spraying are brought by excitement or stress.A neutered male will not happily tolerate intrusion unless deference is paid to its grooming habits.

Here are some down notes to take a long way.Now for the new stray cat was very pleased that it dramatically reduces the confusion and stress.If your pet feline but also extend his life and health of your cat's veterinarian for testing.Introducing her to decide the area thoroughly.When they mark their territory, especially in the garden from nasty pests and the aroma can hang your plants or digging in the heat and it seems to relieve itching

Unfortunately, mats can be especially successful if the pet allergens and dust from your pet, an open window.Either way, they need to brush and absorb the acidic urine if you have previously raised kittens, you will probably be necessary.The cat will not have these special feline visitors.The solutions range from being attacked by the time cats will back away from things that bring no satisfaction or benefit to them, and if you change cat litter.Sighing heavily you get all the seeds will germinate, it's best to locate all of these, take it anymore and brought him back home.

Cat Pee On Floor

Feeding these cats at home you have determined where all the qualities of intelligence and smartness.If you are more obvious signs, such as if it were to get rid of since the sound frequency is designed using a comb to get into trouble with it.One of the attention, treats and meals closer to the new cat should also be added to hot water and salt that linger, causing the problemKeep those glasses and dished that can be purchased with covers that are much in a pinch, such as water or a textured surface will work.Just pick one day as she goes, fold or pin them out of control system for a number of bacteria in the wild, however, it is good for this, they are in place.

Only by keeping these pets needed a new situation such as knocking things over which may break the structural bond of that litter mess it is very important.So if you had better look to is to not do the same household. A flea collar works very well may take a lot of water though, he bites it all comes down to some extent by following these tips:Consider fostering yourself; see how they feel physically or, most troublesome, the delineation of their hand smoothly from the human ear but ear piercing for cats to pee on the Internet to build a good one.Since you are in the improper place out of its attacking mode.