#seeing them claim that was honestly kind of relieving

[ardent-apostasy]

fellas is it gay to be homosexual?

according to my ex-church, the answer is no.

because they want to be able to "acknowledge" that homosexuality exists. they want to be able to say "we're not homophobic because we acknowledge the existence of homosexual attraction!" while condemning gay people.

[inbabylontheywept]

Hey, so for context it's 3:45 AM where I am, and I'm stark awake at this hour because I had to take a nap yesterday due to eating a meal I really shouldn't have that is still wreacking havoc on my intestines. I'm definitely going to regret sending this ask HARD once the sun comes up, but I've been doing a lot of unadvisable shit on the internet over the past 3 days so why not add this to the pile.

I'm kind of having a weird emotional thing right now over your last post because it's just too ridiculous to be true, and I'm realizing the majority of your blog is probably all creative writing not intended to be taken seriously, but I've believed everything you've claimed to be a true story up until this point? And now I'm faced with either being a gullible fool, or an asshole for saying this if it IS all true, and I have to ask or I'll never know? I shouldn't be letting this get to me but it is.

So please, I ask sincerely and with no intention of being a jackass, are your life stories actually all true, or are they supposed to come across as obviously exaggerated or wholly fictional? I'm sure I could piece it together if I lay in bed and thought about it for an hour or two, but I think I'll just take the L and ask outright because fuck it.

But THEN if it truly is just a creative writing blog, would you keep the bit going and claim it's all real when it's not? Like, do you see why I'm going crazy? I am a very gullible, easily lied to person and that has lead me to be on high alert, but I almost always jump at the wrong things and come across as a distrustful asshole, so?? Will you assume this ask itself is LARP because of all the specific details I tacked on, which are intended to garner a sense of sincerity? I'm realizing I may have been playing checkers with someone playing chess all this time and I'm wigging out man

So, I'll start with the small stuff first:

The camp was in Prescott, AZ, in the mountains, over labor day weekend which is in late fall. I don't know the actual temperatures as numbers, but the people at the camp spent more time being cold than hot. The camp organizers also did bring a ludicrous amount of the pink sauce. I don't think the campsite itself was ever intended to provide potable water, just utility water for the showers and dishes and other non-for-direct-consumption tasks. So in that area, the camp people overprepared because Arizonans don't fuck around with dehydration.

I'm also pretty sure they had some water available, they were just very careful with it. I think there were a few diabetic kids, and they were making sure they wouldn't have to subsist on the weird gatorade like everyone else. Maybe. I don't honestly know.

But that's one story, and the thing that you're really asking is, are all these stories fake? Is it all just creative writing? And the answer to that is a soft no.

As a writer, I'm pretty strongly influenced by Patrick McManus. A lot of my stories are told in the American Tall Tale style - which is exaggerated, and dramaticized, but tells a story that is true nonetheless. I am going to keep the specifics of the exaggeration and dramatization between myself and God, but I would look at my stories and say that they're each more than 80% true. I hope that relieves some of your stress.

I wouldn't call what I do creative writing exercises. But I also wouldn't encourage you to take them 100% seriously. Both because I talk a big game, and because they are, at the end of the day, just funny stories. I certainly wouldn't want you to lose any more sleep over them.

You aren't a jackass for expressing incredulity. It's part of my style, and I welcome it. I also wouldn't call you a gullible fool for believing things in the past. We're good, you and I, and I've enjoyed having you as a reader. I hope you keep reading. Just, maybe not at 3:45 AM. Take care of yourself, Babylon

[fishsticksloser]

First kisses / confession kisses Headcanons or scenarios for rottmnt please? If you can, please make the reader friendly but gets rather shy with flirting… after finding out the turtles do like them, they get more confident with showing affection? Daring even 👀

Hope you have a wonderful day ✨♥️

First Kiss

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, not written as hcs, kinda short?

A/N: I do have a love confessions headcannon already that has like a confession kiss, so ignore that for the purpose of this headcannon. Have an amazing day/night!

Donnie

Donnie would admit that he's not the most romantic, he could be if he wanted, but most of the time it wasn't something he cared for. Yet, when it came to you... He kept a stash of your favorite candy in his lab. Maybe one day he'll eat a piece and kiss you, just so it tastes like your favorite candy. Donnie would make you small things just to see your blush and stumble over your words. He loved it.

But for some reason things changed. You stopped stuttering when he gave you things. In fact — though he couldn't be sure — you seemed to get more flirty with him. You gave him compliments, touched him more, and overall just seemed more focused on him.

Donnie wouldn't lie and say that he hated it, he liked having your attention. Yet he wondered why it was so sudden. He'd have to think about that later as you're sitting next to him right now.

"Donnie, this is genius, really." You gush as you looked at his newest blueprint. He hadn't actually made it yet, but he had it all laid out and ready to make.

"Why do you sound surprised? I am a genius after all." He muses, leaning back in his chair. He was trying to act nonchalant, but inside he was screaming.

"Of course. Of course." You snort, smiling at him. "I'm just saying, this is the coolest thing You've ever come up with. This could really make Genius Built take off."

Donnie really doesn't know what came over him, truly to this day he claims he blacked out. But he had to kiss you. You'd always been so supportive and kind to him. He leans forward, cupping your jaw, and pressing his lips to yours so gently. And, yes, it does taste like your favorite candy.

Leo

Leo prides himself on being charming and flirtatious. He always enjoyed the blush on your face, when you'd cover your face anytime he flirted with you. He truly couldn't help himself, you just look so cute.

So imagine his shock when you suddenly started flirting back, "accidentally" making your hand brush his. He didn't know why there was a change, but he wasn't complaining.

When you two chilled out in his room, he'd hold you close to him. Leo would claim that it's just because you're warm and turtles like warm things. In reality, he likes hearing your heart race when he compliments you. As time goes on, he gets a bit more handsy, finding any reason to touch you.

One day, his mind is just filled with thoughts of you. He literally can't get you out of his head, he's tried. Mikey mumbled something to Raph about Leo being "lovesick" and Leo couldn't agree more.

When you finally came over. Though, he didn't know you were there at first. But he felt the brush of your hand on his, his own hand quickly grabbing you. Leo couldn't help himself. He pulled you against him and kissed you, letting out a relieved sigh.

Mikey

Mikey tried his best to be everything you needed. He loved being with you, he flirted without fully realizing he was flirting. But the sight of your blush, the way you looked when he complimented you makes his heart soar.

Then you started flirting back? Holding his hand? Being more touchy?

It was his turn to blush and stutter, but honestly it just made him more attracted to you. It made him crave your touch, your laugh, your smile. Mikey was growing a bit concerned, he's never had someone plague his thoughts like this before.

Every time you came over, Mikey would look at you and think about how you'd feel in his arms. He'd watch your lips when you'd talk, thinking about what would happen if he just leaned forward and kissed you. Of course, he didn't want to interrupt you while you spoke.

Finally, Mikey gained the courage to do just that. You had just finished talking about your day, smiling so big, so sweetly. Mikey was grinning back, leaning forward. He pressed a small, quick kiss to your lips before pulling back. He didn't want to overwhelm you or overstep.

Raph

Raph was anxious about going too far before you were ready. He'd always check in to see if you were doing okay, but never really flirted. Not like Leo, he didn't really give compliments either. He'd hold you, help you with things, but never outright flirted.

If Mikey and Leo hadn't told you that Raph was crushing on you, you probably wouldn't have known. Raph is that lowkey about it.

Honestly after they told you, you still didn't believe it. But you realized how Raph would go out of his way to help you, constantly texting you encouraging things, always making sure you're comfortable.

He liked taking things slow, wanting to get a good feel on how well you two worked together. He wouldn't do anything if you two aren't together, not wanting it to be fleeting. So after a few months of being together, Raph's mind is filled with thoughts about what your lips would feel like against his.

Raph makes a huge deal about it. He'll take you out to dinner, make it as romantic as he can. He'll walk you home like the gentleman he is and he does kiss you on the doorstep. Raph is so gentle, holding your jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. And when he pulls away? He doesn't stay away for long, kissing you a few more times.

[freedomfireflies]

I’ve been thinking of how would it be to talk to H by mistake like you go on a club and try to get this boy’s phone but he ends up giving you the wrong number and when you message him turns out it’s harry’s phone and you 2 get along so he asks you to meet up😭😭 TRY IT PLSSSS

Why should you never fight a dinosaur?

You wait with bated breath for the response, eyes widening when you see those familiar three bubbles rolling across the screen.

Uh…I don’t know? Why?

You grin. Because you’ll get jurasskicked.

Silence.

Then…the bubbles.

Okay, alright, you got me. That was good.

Pleased, you settle back against your headboard, lip between your teeth. Sorry, I’m sure it’s not very cool to text someone an hour after you leave them in a bar but…hey, you said you liked dad jokes. Figured I’d end your night on a good note.

Exactly three minutes pass before you see him type. Bar?

Yeah. Oh, sorry, this is the girl who wouldn’t stop singing It’s Raining Men and throwing back tequila shots before jumping into your lap.

You hit send, then quickly add in a separate text, Sorry about that, by the way.

Four minutes pass this time, and despite yourself, you feel a bit nervous.

That sounds like a lot of fun, but unfortunately…I don’t think that was me.

You frown. Wait, what? This is Braden, right?

More bubbles. Damn, his name was Braden? Yikes. But no, I can’t claim to be Braden, I’m sorry to say.

Fuck. Your heart drops as you glance around your room. Had he given you the wrong number on purpose? You thought you’d had a connection, and so did your friends as they urged you to ask for his number.

Maybe you’d read the signs wrong?

The bubbles appear again. Have you heard the joke about the butter?

Your head tilts. Uh…no?

Oh, I better not tell you. It might…spread.

You snort, snuggling back down into the covers before pulling the phone closer as you watch another text deliver.

I’m Harry, by the way.

Your fingers dance along the screen, feeling a bit relieved despite the obvious disappointment. Hi, Harry. Sorry about the miscommunication.

Don’t sweat it, Harry types. I love dad jokes.

You smile.

I do not like Braden, though, he adds, and you can’t help but chuckle. Sounds like a dick, to be honest.

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. He wasn’t so bad. It was loud in there anyway. Maybe I just heard him wrong.

A minute passes before the bubbles pop up and your heart leaps. 

Why is your heart leaping?

Well, his loss is my gain. You got any more jokes?

I have a joke about pizza! But…it’s too cheesy.

Oh, god. Oh that was…yeah. That was bad. That was really bad. That was not…grate.

“Oh, my god,” you whisper aloud, grinning wildly before typing, Oh, like you can do feta?

He takes a minute to think. I’ll be honest, I’m not very gouda. 

You wince, although you can’t deny your amusement. Yeah, this is nacho thing.

But I’m having a hole lot of fun.

You begin to type a response, but he sends another text before you can:

…get it? Cause…hole? Like Swiss?

You laugh again. No, I got it. It was very…sharp.

You hope that made him chuckle.

I like you, Cheese Girl, he says, and your cheeks flush. Hope you don’t feel so bleu.

I’m much cheddar now, you type. Thank you.

A minute passes. No problem. Listen, I gouda go but…this was fun. If you ever think of any more puns…send ‘em my way, yeah?

And despite the fact that Harry is a total stranger to you, and that you’d kind of been expecting to talk to Braden tonight, and really…cheese puns aren’t exactly sexy…

…you feel disappointed to see him go. 

You swallow and straighten up, taking a second before replying, Absolutely. I think this is the start of a brie-utiful friendship.

He responds with a laughing emoji, followed by, Goodnight, Cheese Girl.

You smile.

Goodnight, Harry.

It’s not exactly on par with the request, but this was honestly so much fun that I was kind of thinking I’d make it a couple of parts 😭 Thank you so much to whoever asked!!!💞 I hope it’s okay!

~ iFall for Harry pt. 2 (the second part to this!)

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

[opiopal]

mc as faph from the interpretation of shadows? Has the ability to see if someone is telling the truth or not? Shadow hands from ears? crackhead?

Ooo I had to do some research for this one!!(which I LOVE doing btw) and honestly this would go so hard, I did take a few creative liberties with this, since I didn’t end up researching as much as I wanted to, but I wanted to hurry and write this out!

but yk who would HATE mc having this kind of ability? Luci, the liar of all liars,

like, imagine the first season just with mc struggling to bite their tongue every time he tells a lie, bc they value their life ofc! but as the days go on they realize slowly that... lucifer cant lay a hand on them. not unless he wants to get in trouble with his little boyfriend.

so they begin making comments. Little comments of just.. them “making sure” they heard him correctly, giving him a chance to tell the truth.. from the outside it just seems as if they didn’t hear him, yet the way they ask puts him off. The way that they bat their eyelashes to try and hide the knowing look in their eyes, the way they carefully cross their arms behind their back as they stare up at him. They know something, and he can tell. And he does NOT like it.

though.. while Luci develops more grey hairs to dye later, mc thinks it’s hilarious. Because most of the time they’ll catch him in the most harmless lie.. well, harmless to the world and embarrassing for him. he came home from a trip to the human world, he claims to have bought a record player but he doesn’t want to show his brothers and Mc because it’s “expensive” and he “doesn’t want them to somehow damage it.” .. in reality it’s covered in cute stickers from some little kid who’s parent owned the record player before hand, Luci thought it was beautiful and figured he’d buy it and clean it off… though he didn’t want anyone to know he bought such a thing.. it was covered in my little pony and rainbow stickers for diavolos sake! And it just always baffled mc! Why lie about it? It’s easy to explain! Sure his son and the youngest may giggle at him, but who cares? He does apparently.

though in the beginning mc immediately learns more then they should have.. it’s hard to keep their mouth shut about the attic or Lilith… but somehow they manage to let it come out on its own. Which internally they are relieved about, they don’t have to pretend to not know who painting is of, or act as if they didn’t know there was an attic in the first place.

and after all the pacts are made and mc becomes apart of the family, they mess with the HOL as often as they can . Casually speaking up and answering questions they saw someone ask in their head and scaring them, “yeah I’m hungry to” “HUH-“ or “you probably shouldn’t buy 10 lottery tickets mams..” “WH-“ or “levi don’t buy that Gacha game it’s a scam.” “W-WHAT😨” Solomon somehow figured out this little ability of theirs right off the bat and decided to help them and keep it hidden. So mc has a blast messing with everyone with some help from Solomon.

maybe s8n&belphie at some point make assumptions and BEG mc to read lucis mind so they can prank him, or mams tries to take mc to a casino to get them to help him win, or levi begs for them to figure out what one of his favorite streamers think about him, or asmo sweetly asking if they could see if that guy from across the room is into him(though the guy CLEARLY is, who wouldn’t be? Asmo is obviously adored by all!!) though mc always shrugs and acts as if they have no idea what they’re talking about! Mind reading?? Are you crazy??? They’re only just human after all! Yet they’ll always act as if they could “tell” what someone is thinking, as if it was written all over the persons face, or they’ll always catch one of the brothers in a lie, claiming it was obvious!

so mc probably has everyone convinced they’re just some mini Sherlock Holmes(which gets s8n all hyped, what a nerd). Until eventually Solomon or even barbatos outs them, either by “mistake” or on purpose. and then all of a sudden it’s the brothers turn to mess with them. Suddenly screaming in their head to spook mc whilst they’re having a rare moment of peace, or repeating the same word over and over again, or luci thinking about assignments they have due to remind them instead of it being verbal like a normal person. Which just causes mc to ramp up their OWN antics.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Congrats on the followers Skye! :D You said you still had slots open for writing prompts, so can I ask for either something with dad squad, or your au which I forget the name of but Link’s dog’s name is Friend? Maybe some kind of hurt/comfort :)

-Sky Floor

Link knew better than to say things can't get much worse, but the thought tried to cross his mind.

With the amount of times he'd faced his mortality, he'd hardly ever feared death anymore. Sometimes he wondered if it would be a relief to actually die. Not that he'd actively pursue it, of course, but it seemed a passive companion he sometimes longed for and other times pushed away.

But either way - he certainly felt closer to it now than he had for many years.

Gritting his teeth, the former hero dragged himself up by a low reaching tree branch, gripping his sword with all the strength he could muster. The iron knuckle he was fighting marched towards him, enough weight in each step that he could hear its armor clanging across the field. The good thing about these cursed monsters was that they were slow, but after fighting a veritable army of stalfos, lizalfos, wizzrobes, and a boss fight against the corrupted wind dragon, he was reaching the end of his abilities. Honestly, the fact that this behemoth was so slow just made it seem like death was taking its time to claim him. It wasn't as if he could just flee - they were too close to a village, and this thing would kill everyone.

Not that it wouldn't kill them if he died, but... still.

Think, idiot! This isn't the time!

Link managed to roll just as the iron knuckle swung its heavy axe at him, allowing him to get close and chink away at its armor. He got behind it, bashing its helmet with his shield before his leg finally gave out, making him fall to the ground with a grunt.

The iron knuckle turned, its helmet half off, armor damaged, but axe still at the ready.

Link closed his eyes, overwhelmed with pain, bracing for the hit as he feebly held up his shield.

Instead, he heard a snarl and a crash. Opening his eyes, startled, he saw the iron knuckle on its side, having been hit at full speed by Friend, who had torn a path across the field, teeth bared. She gripped wherever her powerful jaw could clamp down, grasping at one of the iron knuckle's arms and tearing it off.

Letting out a relieved breath, he rolled over to get to the enemy and reached weakly for its axe so it couldn't retaliate. Friend beat him to it, ripping off the beast's other arm, growling the entire time as her fur stood on end.

The iron knuckle stopped moving, its armor crumbling to ash and malicious smoke, its helmet remaining.

Link let himself collapse entirely, gasping for air. Friend was in his face in an instant, licking him and whining. He didn't have the energy to reassure her, and she barked at him in protest of it.

Before he could do anything, his sweet companion was nuzzling at his pouch, grabbing it and bringing it to his hand. He smiled tiredly at her, feeling blood seeping out of multiple wounds as she moved to try and nurse them. He hissed when she licked at his leg, but he couldn't shoo her away. Instead, he sifted through his pouch, trying to find anything that could help. He wasn't entirely sure he was stocked up for a fight like this or not.

Eventually, his trembling hand found a cool bottle, and he pulled it out, seeing a red liquid inside. That was promising. He struggled to uncork it, so Friend moved up to him and pulled at the cork with her mouth, letting him get to the contents. After nearly choking down the potion, he let out a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Thanks, girl."

Friend panted happily, tail wagging as she licked his face once more. Then she nipped gently at his tunic, pulling him along the field as he spluttered. "Friend, what are you—stop it—"

The chonk didn't listen, dragging him as he hissed over every rock and stick he ran over. Eventually he tried to right himself to at least crawl out of the open area, and Friend crawled under him whenever he was about to collapse, supporting him. By the time he reached the edge of the forest he was exhausted, huddling in on himself under a tree. Friend barked at him and then took off running, though he had no idea what she was up to. He glanced around blearily, but he saw no other signs of monsters.

That was good enough for him for now. He closed his eyes, trying to save his energy. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he blinked his eyes open to see that it was dark. And entirely too quiet.

"F-Friend...?" he asked shakily, shivering and trying to sit up.

Where was she? Was she okay? What had happened?

"Oh my gosh, there he is!"

Link squinted, seeing Friend charging towards him with two people following her. They were both immediately recognizable, what with the girl's fancier fashion style and the boy's large stature.

Oh, great.

"'M fine," he immediately insisted. "Taking a nap. Go away."

"You're not fine, look at you!" Princess Zelda argued as she knelt down beside him. "Fancy Hands, pick him up, we have to get him to the village!"

Link glared at Friend while the Gerudo teenager sighed and complied. Traitor.

Friend wagged her tail happily in reply.

"Put. Me. Down." he immediately growled when the other Link tried to haul him over his shoulders.

"Well, you heard him, Princess," the Gerudo quickly said.

"My orders supersede his, pick him up!"

"I will gut you."

"Princess, he doesn't sound like he wants to be carried."

"I don't care what he wants! He's bleeding, he could be delirious!"

"I'm fine."

"He says he's fine."

"I heard him, knucklehead, I don't care!"

Link groaned as his world started spinning. This was getting tedious, and he was in pain. "Just leave me alone."

"Look," the masseur said. "If you don't want to be carried into town, at least let us help you here. I could go back and get supplies from the healer."

Link bit his lip. He didn't like it, but it was a far better option than letting himself be hauled around. "Fine."

The Gerudo nodded, rising, leaving the princess and the pup. Zelda looked him over carefully. "You really did take on that entire army by yourself, didn't you?"

Link stared at her uncertainly.

"That's... incredibly brave of you," Zelda continued. "A mark of a true Hero."

Oh, for Farore's sake. "No. I'm not the Hero."

"Oh, come on!" Zelda argued, putting her hands on her hips. "You definitely are!"

"They owed me money," Link grumbled in reply.

"That's a lie and you know it!"

The argument went back and forth for a few more minutes before Friend finally finished it by laying her entire head over Link's face, silencing him. He tried to protest, his voice muffled in her throat, making the princess laugh and exciting Friend. She licked his face, whining a little, pawing at him.

"I'm okay, Cupcake," he whispered tiredly. The edges of his vision were fading to black. Friend whined again.

"Don't worry, girl," Princess Zelda said gently, petting the dog. "We'll take good care of him."

Link found that he couldn't be annoyed anymore, snuggling close to his sweet dog and falling asleep as they awaited the Gerudo teenager's return.

[dee-writes-anime]

The Simple Kind of Love, The Love that is Effortless

FEATURING Megumi Fushiguro x Asexual Reader

SUMMARY Some Megumi x asexual reader headcanons requested by a sweet anon.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of sex, CHARACTER IS AGED UP, talk about fertility (both nonconventional and conventional), not edited (I'm running on hopes, dreams, and zero hours of sleep), good luck!

AUTHORS NOTE please remember that these are my own headcannons, you do not have to agree with them in any way, shape, or form, but you do have control over your response. Friendly debates and constructive criticism are welcome, hate and rude comments are not, thank you and enjoy! <3

Honestly, when I first watched Jujutsu Kaisen, I headcannoned that Megumi was asexual for a while.

Even if Megumi isn't asexual, he said it himself in the show, "as long as one's character is unshakable.." so I doubt he would mind much when considering a partner who isn't interested in sexual intimacy.

I like to think of Gumi as very introspective and thoughtful, he feels things deeper than most, and because of that I don't see him ever treating an S/O negatively in general, let alone over something substituable like sex.

Megumi is someone who deeply respects others’ boundaries, especially those of a partner. Upon learning that you’re sex-repulsed or on the asexual spectrum, his first instinct would be to listen and understand. He would never pressure you into anything you're uncomfortable with.

He doesn’t need sex to feel validated in a relationship and is more focused on emotional connection, trust, and mutual respect. If you explain your feelings, he’d support you without judgment and adapt to your needs.

Megumi isn’t the type of person to view sex as a necessary part of a relationship. While he may have some curiosity about physical intimacy, he values emotional closeness more. What matters to him is the bond you share, not physical desires.

Remember those abandonment issues I mentioned last time? Yeah, I feel like he treasures an emotional connection a lot more than a physical one because of that.

The closer he is with someone, the less likely they are to leave him.... right?

Tying in my earlier claims of him being on the asexual spectrum, I feel like Megumi would almost be relieved to not have to worry about pressuring himself to open up in such a vulnerable way. Not that he doesn't trust you, simply because he would be nervous to be put in a situation where his body was so vulnerable and out of control.

Megumi would be comfortable finding other ways to express intimacy and affection. He would prioritize physical closeness through non-sexual acts, like cuddling, holding hands, or simply spending quality time together.

I mentioned last time that he wasn't much of a PDAer, but I feel like with an S/O who is on the asexual spectrum, he would feel more called to entertaining pinkies in public. (what a stinkin' cutie)

He might enjoy quiet moments, like sitting close while reading, cooking together, or just lying next to each other. The intimacy for him comes from knowing you’re both safe and comfortable, not necessarily from physical acts of passion.

Megumi is naturally patient and would never push for anything that makes you uncomfortable. Even if he had moments of curiosity or desire, he would always prioritize your feelings and boundaries.

He’d appreciate clear communication from you, no beating around the bush (especially when something he does makes you uncomfortable), and in return, he’d always be open about how he’s feeling, but with the understanding that your comfort is paramount.

As someone who has grown up with a complicated family dynamic, Megumi likely doesn’t place much value on traditional expectations like marriage or having children. His focus is on the present and on the relationships he builds.

He would be perfectly okay with not having children, as he’s more concerned with your happiness and well-being than conforming to societal expectations. If you express that you don’t want children, he’d accept it without hesitation, likely sharing some relief given his complex feelings about family life.

I think that Megumi might not have even wanted kids before he knew about your feelings on the matter. Megumi would struggle a lot and get caught up in his head about being a deadbeat like his dad and it would eventually drive him up the wall.

I feel he would be relieved to have you both on the same page.

Speaking of pages, he would enjoy bonding over shared interests or spending quiet time together rather than relying on physical intimacy to feel close. (like reading!)

To circle back to conception, If you ever wanted to consider non-traditional methods of having a family, like adoption or simply being each other’s family without children, Megumi would be open to it. He doesn’t need biological children to feel fulfilled and is happy as long as you are both on the same page.

The idea of having a small, close-knit family with you—whether that includes children or not—is more important to him than meeting societal expectations about reproduction.

Megumi would be protective of your boundaries in other settings too, such as with friends or family who might not understand your asexuality. He wouldn’t let anyone make you feel uncomfortable or pressured and would always have your back.

If anyone questioned your relationship or why things might be different, he’d calmly but firmly shut them down, making sure you feel secure and validated in your decisions.

What he treasures most is the emotional bond you share, and he’d always focus on nurturing that rather than worrying about aspects of the relationship that don’t come naturally to either of you.

[mychlapci]

I need to update mertwins and Prowl auughhhhghh I need to know how they are doing

I'd like to think that, once Prowl finally gets his shit together and finally goes to see his mers, they will sort it out. It's awkward tho. When Prowl approaches the water, the mers look a little wary and keep a distance from him. It. It honestly kind of hurts that they don't immediately pounce him like they used to. But Prowl knows he deserves it. He's been avoiding them for a while now. He should never have done that to them.

He denied it for so long, but now that he's accepted it, it's so obvious that he cares. He'll never know what they truly meant when they claimed to 'love' him... but isn't it good enough to know they care for him? They like him? Prowl is ashamed to admit, but he now knows he loves them too.

He gently beckons them over to him. He hates how they look wary, maybe even a little scared. He offers a gentle smile to ensure them its alright.

He hates admitting that he has grown so attached to his mers. But he hates even more how painful it is to see them act so distant

The red mer slowly approaches him first. He kind of. Gets closer. Little by little. Chirping just to make sure. The moment he's in reach, Prowl carefully reaches a servo out to smooth over Sideswipe's fins. He feels his joints relax the moment the mer visibly relaxes under his touch, leaning against his servo, and then shifting in closer.

Sunstreaker then finally slowly swims over too, eying Prowl suspiciously. But he leans in close enough to Prowl to begin petting him too, and sighs when he feels the familiar servos on his helm again.

Prowl feels so stupidly relieved with the two mers tucked against his sides again. He still doesn't know what they understand, but he apologises in the most simple way he can. He says sorry. He says he shouldn't have abandoned them. He... he loves them too.

The two mers immediately perk up, their fins shooting up. They stare at him with wide optics.

......Prowl feels his cheeks heat up and very much regrets saying that. But it's not like he can take it back.

The mers happily chirp at him. Their fins flutter in what can only be pure joy as they nuzzle against him. Even though embarrassed, Prowl allows himself to laugh, honestly just happy to have this again

Prowl will steel himself to eventually grab one of them and. And kiss them. Or whatever it is that do. Licking their mouthes or something. Whatever it is is important. And intimate. And he wants to show he cares for them too. And... and maybe he misses it. Maybe he kinda liked it when his mers would press him against the glass and thoroughly lick the inside of his mouth

Ohhhh yesss good good, finally Prowl came to his senses <33

[marble-anime]

Humans Are Friends Not Food

Pairing: Beam x Reader

Summary: True to form, when the shark fiend get wind of your reciprocated attraction to him, he’s quick to claim you as his.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI, Unedited

Warnings: feral!beam, smut, masturbation, dubcon, somnophilia, oral(male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, getting walked in on, voyeurism, fucking in a public shower stall

Word Count: 3.2k

Beam honestly hadn’t meant to take it this far. And wasn’t entirely his fault either. When he started spying on you from inside your bedroom walls, he really did have pure intentions. He just wanted to see what kind of things you were interested in, what you did outside of devil hunting. He wasn’t human after all, how was he supposed to know that most humans would’ve found his stalking creepy?

And to be fair that was as far as it went for a while, with Beam secretly admiring his lovely coworker as you did mundane things like listen to music, watch a movie, read a book, ect. However, the innocent reasons for Beam’s visits twisted into darker desires when you came home from a long day at work, intending to use your alone time to destress.

He watched you begin your usual routine, shedding yourself of your work clothes and throwing them in the hamper. But instead of changing into something more comfortable, you grabbed something from your nightstand and laid down on your bed. Beam analyzed the device in your hand, it looked like a large wand with a ball at the top. He was startled by the sound of moaning coming from your phone’s speaker.

He swam towards your head so he could see what you were watching. His face heated up at the contents of the video, there were holes cut in walls with cocks poking through and naked women who sucked and fucked them. Suddenly the device in your hand started vibrating and you directed in between your legs, your face twisting into an expression of pleasure as you let out sinful noises of your own.

Beam felt his cock harden. If he were human he might’ve gotten embarrassed and fled before you could catch him peeping in on you like some kind of pervert. But in his fiend-mind, it felt as if you were putting on a show just for him. He could do the kind of stuff you were getting off to. He wondered how you’d react if he phased his erection through the wall. As hard as it was, he held back, not wanting to scare you off just yet. He stayed inside the wall and enjoyed the show, rubbing the tent in his shorts every once in a while to try to relieve his aching cock that longed to be inside you.

You’d lost track of time during your self-care session and before you knew it the sun had gone down and it was time for a good night’s rest. Much to Beam’s dismay, your playtime ended with one last powerful orgasm before your wobbly legs carried you to the bathroom so you could clean up the wet mess between your shaky thighs. When you made it back to your bedroom you flicked off the lights and once your head hit the pillow you were out like a light.

Beam watched your form rise and fall as your breathing evened out. He contemplated what he wanted to do next, he knew he shouldn’t, he should leave you be and let you rest peacefully. But you were laying on your side, facing him, your face inches away from the wall he was hiding out in. It was too tempting. He didn’t want to do anything bad, he reasoned with himself, he just wanted to see what it would look like next to you.

He phased his hard cock through the wall, hovering right above your face. Although he told himself that he wouldn’t do anything else beyond this, the sight of his sex so dangerously close to your cheek only spurred him on. So he gave himself the excuse, just once, just a taste and he’ll leave you alone forever. He hesitantly brushed the tip of his cock along your soft lips, coating it with your sticky chapstick. He should’ve known this wouldn’t satiate his appetite for you but only increase his hunger tenfold.

Careful not to wake you, he forced your jaw open, your teeth grazing his shaft, as he slowly stuffed your mouth full of his cock. It took every ounce of strength in him to refrain from fucking your face. And if he was being honest, the only reason he stayed inside the wall and didn’t claim every inch of you was because he didn’t want this pleasure to end here. Oh, no no.

This would become a regular occurrence for the shark fiend. After work you’d head home and do whatever you felt like in the comfort of your own house, unaware of the predator running his tongue along his sharp teeth as he stalked you. He was so close yet just out of your view. He’d wait until he was sure you were fast asleep, then he’d indulge in the euphoria your hot mouth provided. Leaving you to wake up the next morning with a salty taste in your mouth.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin when all of a sudden you started sucking. After months of taking advantage of you in your sleep, he’d finally been caught. At first, you thought it was just a realistic wet dream when you woke up with a cock in your mouth. Then when you realized that you were very much awake, the panic set in. It was only for a moment though, there was only one fiend that you knew of that could phase through walls. And it just so happened to be the one you had been pinning after for a while now.

You knew relationships between coworkers were wrong, relations between humans and devils even more so, but you just couldn’t help it. There was something about his sweet, eccentric, personality that left you wanting more. This was a blessing in disguise, a way for you to indulge in your fantasies without technically doing anything wrong. If you just kept your eyes closed while you bobbed your head up and down his big cock, you could pretend you were still asleep and helpless. That way you wouldn’t be the one to blame for any misconduct.

This time Beam was the one who was clueless. He truly believed you hadn’t woken up. He was overflowing with happiness. In his mind, if you craved him enough in your dreams to please him in real life then you were his. You belonged to him. When he came down you throat with a low growl, he once again fought against his desires to fuck you into next week and left so you could have the the rest of the night in peace. Unbeknownst to you, you faking being asleep is what temporarily saved you from the beast you had just awoken who was soon to devour you.

After completing your mission of taking down a devil that had been terrorizing a nearby town, you opted for showering at the Public Safety Bureau instead of your home since your work clothes were drenched in blood. You dropped your gym bag at the entrance of the shower room alongside the bags of the other women in the same predicament as you. The steam that clouded the room had you itching to get your dirty clothes off.

You closed the curtain behind you as you entered one of the empty stalls, hung your towel on the door, placed your shower products on the floor, and finally peeled off your uniform which clung to your skin due to the mixture of blood and sweat coating you body. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the warm water made contact with your skin, rinsing off all the gunk. Red water flowed down the drain as you lathered yourself in body wash.

Turning your back to the showerhead, you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair, running your fingers through each strand and undoing the knots when all of a sudden you felt something poke your ass. You had to hold back a yelp as you spun around to see a hard cock sticking out of the wall. You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears, pressing your thighs together as the heat between your legs became wet with slick. Despite the visits he paid you in your sleep, you never would’ve thought that he was bold enough to pull a stunt like this at work. But what did you really expect? He was a fiend after all.

Becoming even more aware of your surroundings, you turned your back to the wall once again. Your eyes fixated on the entrance to the stall as your mind conjured up the image of one of the girls pulling back the curtain and catching you in the act. But even with your paranoid mind, you still reached behind you, grasping Beam’s cock in your hand and slowly stroking, the water raining down on you acting as a lubricant. Shivers ran down your spine, the risk of exposure both terrifying and exciting you at the same time.

While you focused on the sound of footsteps leaving the room, you continued to jerk his cock until the water pouring from the showerhead in your stall was all that could be heard. You waited for a few minutes to make sure that all the other girls were done with their showers and when you were sure that you were alone, your worry was consumed by your desire.

You faced the wall, your lust swirling through your lidded eyes as you stared at the tile as if you could see the fiend behind it. He’d been the subject of your fantasies for a while now and after finding out what he did while you slept, this had been a long time coming. You pumped his cock a few times before tightening your grip and yanking him through the wall. As Beam’s body roughly made contact with yours, you threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a heated kiss.

“We have to be quick, okay?” You whispered against his lips.

Receiving no response, you assume he was just too into the moment to reply and and turned around, bracing your hands against the sides of the stall. “Oh!” You let out a small yelp when you felt Beam roughly grab your hips, his nails digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer. His cock forced its way into your tight pussy without giving you anytime to adjust. “Oh.”

He wasted no time before he started pounding away at you. You winced at the pain but you had told him to make it quick, maybe you should've specified that he needed to be gentle upon entering. It was too late for that now but soon the pleasure began to drown out the pain, his long cock massaging your gummy walls, hitting all the sweet spots your fingers couldn’t.

You bit your lip, trying to conceal the noises that threatened their way up your throat with each sloppy thrust of Beam’s hips. Honestly, it was pointless to hide your moans, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin which was loud enough to be heard even through the drumming of water raining down on the both of you would’ve given anyone who walked in a good idea of what was happening.

With all the pent up sexual tension you two had, it was long before you were approaching your orgasm. You pussy fluttered, clenching around his cock, moans slipping from your lips as the tight knot in your gut snapped. You didn’t think much of it when Beam continued to thrust into you, after all, he hadn’t reached his peak yet.

All you could was reach behind you to rub his chest, a silent coax for him to follow you into bliss. Just as you were starting to grow worried that someone might walk in and catch you two, your thoughts were drowned out by a second wave of euphoria. Much to your relief, this time as you came around his cock, you felt him release inside you.

However, Beam’s hips still frantically met your ass, his cock hadn’t softened even after he spilled himself inside you. A twinge of fear struck you as your hand pushed against his chest. “Beam.” You tried to walk away but his tight hold on your hips made it impossible for you to escape. “Beam, that’s enough-” You tripped over your own feet, falling through the shower curtain.

Even as you tumbled to the ground, Beam’s thrusts didn’t so much as falter. In fact, the position you were now in seemed to satisfy some primal urges within the fiend. You heard him grunt and pant above you like he was a wild animal. Your knees scraped against the floor as the fiend rutted into you.

“What are you doing?” You asked between sharp breaths.

When Beam’s unwavering onslaught brought you to a third orgasm, you gave up trying to fight him. As you went limp in his arms, your face pressed against the cold floor, you wondered if this was ever gonna end. You didn’t know how long it was before footsteps echoed through the room. Your body was so overwhelmed by the pleasure and pain that all you did was listen as gasp was heard followed by the footsteps running back the way they came.

Of course, your little interruption hadn’t fazed Beam in the slightest. Your saving grace came minutes later when multiple footsteps barged into the room. “Beam?” The fiend tensed at the stern voice of Miss Makima which had never failed to terrify him. But instead of letting you go, he shuffled back into the stall, pulling you with him. Heavy work boots came into your view as two men grabbed the shark fiend by his arms and hoisted him off of you. He didn’t go easy though, he kicked and struggled against the men as they dragged him out of the room, shouting about how you were his.

The redhead kneeled in front of you. As the sound of Beam’s yelling faded, her soothing voice flooded your ears, “You poor thing. How about we get you cleaned up?”

Of course, your manipulative boss had found a way to exploit the situation. She sounded so genuinely sorry for you at the time but a week later, she was asking you to do it again. Her explanation was that it was some sort of experiment, to see why a fiend had attached itself to you. According to her, it was rare for a fiend to care about another being, especially a human.

You knew it was a lie, you’d worked with enough fiends to know that they were capable of feeling the same kinds of emotions as humans. You didn’t know why she wanted you to do this but here you were, in a dark room with nothing but a bed, a clock, and a two way mirror. All because you said yes. Both you and Makima knew that she wasn’t exactly asking, you’d do it whether you liked it or not. But nonetheless, you had accepted her request because deep down you were craving it.

You couldn’t deny that it felt amazing that day and no matter how much you tried, your toys simply couldn’t replicate the feeling of Beam bullying his cock into your weeping cunt. You were itching for another taste so when the opportunity presented itself you hopped on it right away. Besides, she promised that it would only last an hour and then they’d stop him. You could handle an hour.

When the clock finally hit 12:00PM, the door to the room opened and Beam was shoved in. He immediately rushed over to you and engulfed you in a tight hug, inhaling your scent. This past week was hell, he was so worried they’d keep you away from him forever. You returned the gesture, gently rubbing his back in a soothing manner.

When he pulled away, he surprised you by shoving his swim trunks down his legs and kicking them to the side. Your eyes trained on his already hard cock, it seemed that Makima had already explained to him what was going to happen. Since Beam was clearly eager to get down to business, no words were exchanged between you two as you began removing your clothing. His erection twitched each time an article of clothing fell from your body.

You climbed onto the bed with Beam following close behind. This time you were far more comfortable as the fiend relentlessly fucked you. The bed was softer than the tile floor, you were free to let out as many pleasurable noises as you pleased, and if you ignored the two way mirror there was no risk of being caught.

Half a dozen orgasms in and you were close to your breaking point but it was 12:55, there was only five more minutes to go. You kept your eyes glued to the clock as the minute hand ticked by for what felt like forever before it hit 1:00. Your heart sank when another minute went by. No. On, no, no. You tried to give them the benefit of the doubt but when four more minutes went by you realized that no one was coming to help you. This was a mistake, you thought, she lied, of course she did, she knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle this.

You stared at the clock, feeling like you were losing your mind with each passing second, your body turning to mush from the fiend’s touch. You tried not to panic, How long could the fiend really keep this up for? He had to get exhausted or even bored at some point. You watched as the clock struck 2:00.

Then 3:00.

Then 4:00.

Then 5:00.

Your eyes remained on the clock even when you weren’t able to comprehend what the numbers meant anymore. The clock had become a black and white blob, the image was blurred even further by your tears.

You were too out of it to realize when it had finally ended. When the hour hand made it back to 12:00, the door to the room opened. This time Beam left without a fight. He knew he’d be able to do this again, thanks to the deal Makima had presented him which you were still blissfully unaware of.

Makima was greeted with the sight of your numb body convulsing when she entered the room. She brushed your hair out of your face, drool was leaking from the corner of your mouth as a blubbering mess of gibberish slipped from your quivering lips. She had to hide a smile at the pitiful sight. “You know, your troublesome shark friend is a lot more cooperative when you’re offered up as a reward.”

With a snap of her fingers, a fresh set of clothes was brought into the room. You’d be cleaned up and safely tucked away in the comfort of your own bed by the time you came to. Running a finger along the side of your cheek, Makima suggested, “Perhaps I’ll allow him to have you for a full twenty four hours next time.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Pleasure Is My Business: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You’re brought back to your high school days with this case. You put that behind you when you graduated, but life has a funny way of bringing you closer to the person who made your life miserable back then.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture." - Camille Paglia

Before you leave for work, you grab the coffee you premade as soon as you wake up. The coffee is right next to your high school reunion invitation. The opened card stares at you whenever you pass by it, begging you to acknowledge it. High school was one of the worst years of your life because not only did kids bully you, but you felt their own pain as your own.

It wasn't fun.

This reunion is in a few days but you're still in Quantico. Looks like you won't get to go, and honestly, you're kind of relieved. Spencer wants you to go and prove to everyone you're this hotshot FBI agent (which you are), but you don't feel like proving to a bunch of people who never gave a fuck about you in the first place.

"Are you gonna go?" Spencer says from behind you.

"We'll, seeing how it's in a few days and we're not in Dallas, I don't think so. It's so stupid because instead of a night, they made it a whole weekend getaway. As if I want to spend more time with them than I have to."

"Maybe you can go to the other one."

All you can do is shrug. You really don't want to get into this right now, plus, you have to get ready for a case Hothc pulled together. Hotch got called to Dallas early in the morning to do a briefing on a case sent by Patrick Jackson, the attorney general.

Hoyt Ashford, a hedge fund manager for a major bank, has turned up dead in a hotel room. Hoyt didn't do too well in the public eye after going on talk shows and talking about how the real estate crisis wasn't a real thing. He posted an apology video about the issue, but once word got out that he died, his lawyers classified it as a suicide.

If you know any better, then that's not true.

According to Hotch, there was Viagra near Hoyt's body. Considering that his wife was at home with the kids, it's safe to assume the prostitute he was with killed him. Something that's confidential and not to be mentioned in any reports is that Hoyt took $10,000 out of a fund in cash. No one saw the prostitute he was with, which isn't surprising since they know how to be discreet. According to Patrick, this is the second murder in Dallas.

You might be able to attend your reunion after all.

"Female serial killers are a fascinating field," Spencer says once everyone is in the air. "We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Take the signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies because there is no sexual gratification when a woman kills. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra."

"So, basically, women are more efficient at killing," you half-joke.

"Historically, they have had body counts in the hundreds."

"Assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?" Hotch asks over the phone.

"Money, drugs, and PTSD. At some point, every call girl, no matter how well paid, gets coerced into an activity she didn't consent to. Aileen Wuornos used to purposefully stage paid sexual encounters as an excuse to murder men she thought would rape her," you explain.

"Wuornos was psychotic and disorganized. I think this girl is poisoning them before she has sex with them."

"She's using Tetramethylenedisulfotetramine. It's a popular rat poison in China which can be easily soluble in alcohol," Spencer explains after reading the files Hotch sent over.

"Poison is the perfect MO. It's quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they're getting lucky." Hotch makes an uncertain noise. "Does that mean something to you?"

"These men are paying $10,000 a night for discretion as well as sex. She has a history with them. She didn't decide to kill them at the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them, and she's doing it before she sleeps with them. She's not just organized, she's also methodical. She decides early which one of her clients is worth killing," Hotch says.

"Maybe the victims all share the same fetish. Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible, and careful of their image. If they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it."

"We're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out."

"Actually, I had some luck there. Hoyt's wife isn't too happy with how he died. She agreed to talk to us but because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement." JJ pulls out her phone to read the statement that was sent to her. "Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.' They're already trying to close ranks."

"Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?" Spencer asks.

"What do you mean?"

"It's the same thing as the murder of the first victim. 'According to the company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home'."

"Y/N and Morgan, start with the wife and see if you can get her to open up. JJ, call the lawyers and tell them I want to meet with both of them."

"You want to play them off each other?"

"I think one of them wrote both press releases. Let's see which one calls us back."

Once you land, you and Derek head over to the Ashford home where Yvonne Ashford is eagerly waiting for you.

"Mrs. Ashford, we're very sorry about your husband," you say.

"I've been getting nothing but condolences all day. I feel like a hypocrite for accepting them, knowing how he died."

"We think your husband might have been targeted because of something sexual he did with this call girl. I know this is hard, but is there anything you can tell us about what he liked?"

"In bed? I can sum it up in one word. Younger."

"How much younger?"

"Twenty-five. That was when I first met him."

"So, your age difference was part of the attraction?"

"Are you kidding? It was the whole relationship."

"Mrs. Ashford, no offense, but your husband spent a lot of money on this woman. Was there anything else at all that he liked from a younger woman besides the ego boost?" Derek asks.

"There's a certain kind of man, Agent, for whom the only kind of sex that matters is the ego boost. In a marriage like ours, you have to work at it or in my husband's case, pay for it."

Your phone rings and you step off to the side when you see Hotch is calling.

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"We got a meeting with a madame that sets meetings up like the one Ashford was in. Spencer is heading over to meet with her. I want you to go with him."

"Sure." You hang up and walk over to Derek. "I got to go. See what else you can find out about Hoyt."

"Yeah."

The madame, Lauren, is hosting an open house where she is able to meet clients discreetly. It's actually pretty smart since people might think they're there for the open house instead of something else entirely.

"This is actually pretty smart," you say when you meet up with Spencer. "Properties like this are safe and an inspection-free investment for large sums of cash."

An older woman walks out of the house with a big smile on her face.

"Well, hello, you two!"

"Are you the--"

"Isn't this neighborhood just fabulous? You're gonna love this house," she cuts your boyfriend off. She escorts you two inside the house for more privacy. "You two need lessons in faking it. I teach a class."

"So, you arrange dates for escorts?" you ask.

"All I arrange are meetings. What happens between two consenting adults when that meeting is over is something I'm not liable for. Now, who wants a scone?" she offers from a platter.

"Listen, we're looking for someone who is a high-end prostitute who takes fees up to ten thousand dollars. She has the intent of killing her clients before having sex with them."

"Oh, yes. We all know about this woman. She's terrible for business."

"I guess there's only so many men that can afford the service you provide, right?"

"Yes, but with the way she's behaving, she's only hurting herself. An escort's client list is the most important investment she has. It's her daily income and her retirement package when she sells the list."

"She's not working with a service then. No madam would allow an escort to kill off the clientele."

"What about the type of work your employees do?" Spencer asks nervously. "We're sort of operating under the assumption that this escort is killing men who make her perform a specific sexual act."

"What did you have in mind, sweetie?" she smirks.

"I... I don't even... I don't know."

"Don't mind him," you giggle. "It's his first time."

"If I may, I think you're looking at this all wrong. Start with this question: why would a man pay a woman five figures?"

"It's not just for sex, is it?"

"Of course, you've got to be good in bed to be successful, but that's the easy part. What men want more than the no strings attached sex is a therapist. Someone who will absorb the worst parts of their personalities."

"They're looking for someone to tell their fears and insecurities to. Everything they can't take home to their wife."

"That's what I groom my girls to do--how to talk to these men and how to listen. Don't get me wrong, deviancy comes with the territory. I can't tell you how many men need to be submissive as an outlet from their extremely stressful jobs. I can tell you that if the sex was the reason she was killing these men, she would have broken long before she charged $10,000."

"It isn't how these men act in bed, it's how they act out of it," Spencer says.

This unsub isn't killing at a specific time because it's whenever her client wants to meet with her. While you've been talking to Lauren, another murder has taken place. You and Spencer leave the open house and immediately head over to an office firm.

Joseph Fielding is found dead inside the elevator, tied to an office chair with X's marked in lipstick on his eyes, and clear tape wrapped around all over his mouth.

"The victim is Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here," Rossi says when you two get there.

"Was he poisoned?"

"Yes, and staged. She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found."

You walk over to the victim but pause when you see the energy left behind by the unsub. It's blue because the unsub is a female, but you recognize this energy. There are eight billion people in this world with eight billion different base energies. Every single person you've met has their own energy signatures, and you're familiar with this one. Not only have you seen this energy before, you know the person attached to it.

You've met and gotten to know this person before.

"I know this unsub," you say.

"You do?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah, but I can't put a name to it yet. I've definitely seen it sometime in my life."

Hotch gives you time to put a name to the unsub, but for right now, he focuses on what he can see physically.

"The lipstick is new."

"It was done postmortem. Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable. Now she wants to be noticed."

There is commotion by the barrier formed by local police by a man trying to get through, which he does eventually.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

"Me."

"I'm Larry Bartlett. I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries."

"This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I know. I spoke to Ellen Daniels, and she said you're a very reasonable man."

"Escort him out, please," Hotch says to one of the officers.

"No, wait. Please." The officer tries to grab him, but he doesn't leave right away. "The press is outside and they can smell blood. Is there any way we can handle this discreetly?"

"We're not about to lie for you," Derek says.

"You don't have to lie. Just don't comment."

"Excuse us."

Hotch takes the team off to the side to talk about the benefits of not commenting on the murder. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

"Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake," you say quietly.

"He doesn't need to know that. We need everything you have on Fielding like bank accounts, tax records, and emails."

"Everything?" Larry asks in uncertainty.

"Everything."

"I'll gather everything and send it in the morning."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[renxzs]

Aelin Week - Day 6: Rowaelin | @rowaelinscourt | AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Aelin is having a very bad day… or week. Okay, more like a very bad year. She’s in dire need of a little kindness and comfort. Although she tries to deny herself of it, feeling utterly undeserving—Rowan Whitethorn will deny her none of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: basically shameless smut (18+ only), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depressive thoughts, Aelin desperately needs a hug, mention of parental deaths, coworkers who become..a bit more, modern au

I won't always have the words  to pull you back from the dark.

But I will always be here  to sit with you in it  and take your hand or wrap my arms around you  until it passes.

For every day of sunshine  there will be a night of darkness, 

but I want to spend  both of them with you.

—S.K. Williams

Arobynn Hamel, her prick of a boss, slowly shook his head as the crease between his brows deepened. He flipped harshly through the pages of the case folder she had handed him moments ago.

Aelin’s body went rigid, preparing for whatever verbal lashing he was about to spew. Entirely negating the amount of time and effort she poured into this case over the last two weeks, discounting hard work she was actually proud of. 

She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his condescension had on her, how truly deep it sometimes cut. She maintained a look of impassivity and waited.

“This is your best work? Really?” Arobynn scoffed derisively and leveled her with a hard stare, contempt rolling off him. Aelin focused on breathing steadily through her nose.

“If this is it, then I need you to do the fucking best of someone better.” His words were small glass shards being hurled at her, slicing and stinging upon contact. She curled her shaking hands into tight fists on her lap, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. 

Today had been shit, the general week a living hell. 

Then again, Aelin couldn’t honestly say many of her weeks spanning the past twelve months have been much different. 

This weekend marked the one-year death anniversary of her parents. One year since the tragic accident that  had left her entirely alone in this world. One year since unwavering guilt and shame had settled and made a home in her chest. 

Spoken out of hurt and anger amidst a heated argument, those final words to her parents only a handful of hours before they were just… gone would haunt her until the dark god came to claim her. 

Aelin could usually endure Arobynn’s volatile mood swings and mistreatment—weather the rage storm and emerge from his office relatively unscathed.

But this particular week…?

The very moment consciousness had greeted her this morning, she knew she should have stayed curled under the blankets and out of reach from the rest of the world.

Aelin expelled a long breath. It did nothing to relieve the heaviness twisting in her gut and weighing in her bones. It was a marvel how one could feel so heavy yet utterly empty at the same time.

She tipped her drained glass towards the nearby bartender. “Another, please.”

A moment later, a new glass was slid in front of her and her eyes fell to the sloshing liquid. She must look as pathetically dejected as she presently felt, considering the very generous pour. 

A chill of awareness pricked across her nape and skittered down the smooth curve of her spine as a presence sidled up next to her. Quiet flutters stirred low in her belly, and Aelin cursed her traitorous body’s response to his proximity.

Because of course it was him—she knew it was him without needing to look. It was as if she had a preternatural sense specially tuned to him. And she’d been more than aware of his presence across the room—felt him all evening. Those piercing green eyes boring into the back of her. 

Aelin refused to look at him. “Can I help you, Whitethorn?”

“You know,” he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the bar top next to her. “Agreeing to drinks after work typically entails actually sitting within the remote vicinity of those who extended the invitation.”

Aelin lifted the glass of dark amber liquid to her lips and took a long, pointed sip before speaking cooly, “I’m here for the drinks, not the company.”

Rowan slid into the vacant stool next to her. 

Not easily deterred, then.

A few silent minutes passed between them. Rowan patiently waited, watching her still. Aelin inhaled a long breath as frustration started to build. Couldn’t he just leave her alone to sulk in solitude? 

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” 

She couldn’t fully tamper the edge in her voice. All the better though. Maybe he’d take the hint and finally rejoin his rightful group of coworker-turned-friends.

The heat of Rowan’s gaze flitted across the side of her face. She took another drink. 

“Are you okay?” His soft sincerity caused her chest to constrict.

“Christ, Aelin—what do I even pay you for?” Arobynn flung the heavy file folder back across the desk at her. “Being a pretty face around the firm? You barely manage that lately.”

Her eyes closed against the resurfacing memory. The slight burn of unbidden tears pricked in her nose. Aelin sniffed then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine.” 

Aelin met his stare in challenge, to show just how fine she was. But her voice had sounded strained, even to her own ears. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rowan either, if the gentle look of disbelief and concern were any indication.

Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. She couldn’t stand him looking at her like that. She didn’t need his kindness or concern. 

Didn’t deserve it.

Yet Rowan is always so fucking nice to her. Checking in during the day and inviting her to outings with their coworkers. Most recently, he’s started bringing his lunch over to eat at her desk once he realized she was never going to take him up on the invitation to join him and the others in the break room. 

Time and time again, he has tried to scale the icy fortress she’s spent years carefully constructing around herself. Yet his efforts seemingly remained undeterred, even with her doubled efforts to keep all others out throughout this past year of hell. 

Aelin threw back the last of her drink. She needed to get away from him before he made a crack in her barrier. Only the gods know he’s come close before. And something deep, deep down screamed at her to let him do it.

But once he did crack her open, only to find cold, ugly darkness seeping out—what then? He’d inevitably discard her like everyone else. Because why would he want that? Why would anyone? 

She couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t risk the hope of maybe having him just to lose him and have her chest hallowed out once more. 

Aelin slid from her seat and threw a few bills onto the bar top.

“Hey, hey—Aelin.” Rowan reached for her arm.

She whipped towards him with a withering glare that could usually send anyone running. Rowan didn’t falter.

“Talk to me,” he implored. 

“Why do you even care?” She demanded. 

Still seated, Rowan tugged her into the space between his legs. A quiet sadness swirled with the flecks of deep green in his eyes. 

“I just… do.” 

Aelin’s heart felt crumpled and emotionally stripped. 

Home. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed. Wanted to be done with this day—this dreaded weekend. 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from wobbling.  Her gaze lingered in the direction of their coworkers huddled together in a circular booth. Laughing and joking and clinking glasses. Rowan should be over there with them, not here attending to her mess. 

She averted her eyes upwards, blinking a few times to keep impending tears at bay. A calloused hand smoothed down her arm until he wrapped his hand around hers. He squeezed gently.

“What do you need?”

A single tear streaked her cheek. Rowan’s free hand gently wiped it away. He kept quiet, but she didn’t even know what to say. What did she need?

So many things, all seemingly out of reach. 

So often the silence was deafening and the loneliness gutting within the dark place she’s locked herself, behind the icy fortress wall. Numbed for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to live. 

The silence stretched between them before she finally rasped, “To feel something.”

Rowan traced a thumb along her cheek. “Then let me help you feel.”

His words hung between them, their implication glaring and heavy. Every nerve in her body roared for his touch, his kindness, his comfort. Him. 

Aelin’s denied herself of all of it for so long, from anyone. Let alone from this beautiful man who refuses to let her fade to the black nothingness constantly on the brink of consuming her whole. This man who has unknowingly taken hold of her beaten down heart, bit by bit. 

Just this once. 

Just this once she could allow herself to give in, to  want him. Just for tonight. 

Her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, “Yes.” 

His small answering smile so soft, so warm, it made her chest ache. 

~

Aelin toed off her heels before stepping past the entry way. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, tidy and warm. Her focus snagged momentarily on a bookshelf nestled against the far wall. The spines a variety of colors, sizes, and conditions of wear. She was inclined to step closer and nose through what kinds of books filled his shelves, to gain a small insight into his mind—

Rowan moving deeper into the living room caught her eye though, and she turned to watch him ease onto a plush sofa. He offered her one of his rare soft smiles, then reached a hand out. 

“C’mere.”

Aelin approached him slowly until she stood between his parted legs. He looked so good like that, splayed out lazily. Lap and warm smile more than inviting. Heat emanated from his large hands as he gently gripped her hips. She didn’t resist, allowing him to settle her astride his muscled thighs. 

Her form-fitted work skirt rucked up to her hips so her legs could accommodate his width. Deep green eyes devoured the newly exposed skin, tracing calloused hands up the soft flesh before hooking behind her to pull her impossibly closer. 

Aelin’s stomach curled and skin pricked with the intimacy of their position. Never imagined they would ever be this close—never allowed herself to.

Rowan ran a hand up her back and she arched gently into the touch, chest pressing into his. It’d been so long since she was last touched like this. Her body craved it. 

So did her heart.

She closed her eyes against that thought. 

“This is just sex.” 

Rowan hummed noncommittally. He brushed loose tendrils from her face and smoothed them behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she settled her gaze back on him. 

“I’m serious, Rowan,” she hedged. 

He nodded softly, running a thumb along her jawline, over her bottom lip. “Is that truly what you want?” his voice hushed.

Was it? No. At least she didn’t think so. But…

“It has to be,” she whispered, resolute. 

His eyes pierced through her, burned to her very soul. As if he could unearth all of her darkest thoughts and secrets and turn them to ash.

“Why?”

Because I am nothing. Worthless. And you should be running—away from this, away from me. 

She wanted to push him away, protect him from herself. Instead her fingers flexed in the soft silvery hair at his nape. The tightness in her chest splintered out as unwanted emotions and thoughts bubbled to the surface, a familiar numbing ache seeping into the hollow parts.

A slow, sad shake of her head. “I have nothing to give.”

Something crumpled behind those pretty green eyes. Then Rowan pulled her face closer, grazing his lips over hers. “I don’t want anything.” The featherlight touch of his lips as he spoke sent a chill up her spine. “Just you, Aelin.”

His words… the way her name sounded on his tongue—it fractured something deep within. And she was helpless to the sob that racked up through her body. No one has ever wanted her before, not for just her.

“Shhh,” Rowan soothed. “I’ve got you.” He gently wiped the salty streaks from her flushed cheeks. Ran soothing fingers through her long golden waves. Held her so close to stave off any fears that he’d let her go. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Aelin nuzzled into the crook of his neck, too far past the ability to feel embarrassed over her tears seeping into his shirt collar and skin. Rowan didn’t seem to care anyways. So she sunk into him—reveled in the strength and warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her. Tentatively allowed herself to be comforted by his unyielding presence. 

It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and the dampness on her cheeks nearly dried that she pulled back to find eyes open and searching, a gentle caress across her face. 

She stared back, in disbelief of this man and his kindness and his heart. Always so stoic and broody to the outside world… but for whatever reason she’d always had a special pass to the softer, gentler parts of him. Gods knew she’d done nothing to earn that trust of vulnerability.

But she was… thankful, anyways. And she wanted him to know. She could at least give him this. 

Aelin swallowed then placed a gentle hand along his jaw. “Rowan…” she rasped, voice not sounding like her own, hoarse with spent emotion. 

The rest of her gratitudes died on her tongue. She wasn’t any good at these kinds of things. Aelin resolved to showing him then.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as she shifted on his lap, tilting his head back so she could lean over him. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, then Aelin pressed her lips to his. Rowan didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss, slow and deep.

Her mother used to always say Aelin was born with wildfire in her heart. Burning bright and wild, yielding to nothing and no one. Always one to unapologetically blaze her own trail. And oh, how far Aelin has fallen from that little girl once with wildfire. Her heart has been cold and shrouded in darkness for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

Until now. As Rowan breathed flame back into her and it crackled through her blood with every touch and brush of lips. This single kiss fractured her very foundation and reforged her anew. 

A prolonged moan fell from her lips as Rowan’s hands ran down her body then back up her bare thighs, smoothing around to knead and cup her ass. Using the leverage, he ground her thinly cladded core against his straining arousal and devoured the little gasps and whimpers coaxed from her. 

Aelin broke away and pressed open mouthed kisses along his strong jawline as deft fingers worked the front buttons of his dress shirt, only pausing for him to yank hers overhead. The second it was off, her mouth and hands were back on him—touching, licking, tasting. 

Her bra was next to go and Rowan soaked in the sight with pupils blown wide. He almost looked crazed with want, and hell—maybe he was. She surely was. 

The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smirk before tangling her fingers into his hair and guiding him back to her in a messy kiss. Rowan licked into her mouth and greedily swallowed her moan when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her underwear. And he was so good.

All coherent thoughts fell away. Leaving her with just the feel of him beneath her—of them, moving together.

“Rowan,” she panted, hips rolling against his very skilled fingers. 

Small hands flitted over broad shoulders, across the expanse of firm chest, over thick biceps, into silvery tendrils—unable to decide where to land. Entirely overwhelmed with an incessant need for him—for more. 

Finally her hands landed on his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. Shimmying them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, jutting proud and  head glistening with his desire. The urge to wrap her mouth around him pulsed through her. But first—

Aelin rose on her knees to align herself above him. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly and gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down.

“Aelin… like this?”

His eyes darted over their still half-clothed bodies then back up to her face as if he were asking, Here? She was sure he had a perfectly fine bed somewhere but Aelin swore she was going to die from scorching need if she didn’t have him in the next five seconds.

She didn’t need romantic gestures and soft mattresses. Just to be filled with him, consumed by him.

Aelin nodded emphatically. “Please.” Desperation to feel something—to connect—threatened to swallow her whole.

A look passed through the green depths of his eyes and she knew he understood. Rowan pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell me how you need it.”

“Hard.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes as he smirked up at her and her stomach flipped. “As you wish.”

Rowan’s mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss—demanding, claiming. His thumb hooked and pulled aside the dainty lace that still covered her core, and guided her down onto his cock. 

A throaty whimper fell from her. The way he stretched her open fell just on the side of painful, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Fuuuck, Aelin,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

Before she could fully adjust to his size, Rowan snapped his hips and set into a punishing pace. And she was glad for it—eager to be ruined by him.

Aelin’s head fell back with a cry.

All she could do was hold on, nails digging into beautiful bronze tattooed skin, and lose herself to the burn building within her. Nothing else mattered outside this moment, outside of them and the way he made the flames flicker and dance in her soul.

Rowan wound long gold tresses around a hand and tugged to draw her head back, keeping the hold on her hair taught. Aelin moaned and arched just as he nipped at the exposed skin before licking up the length of her throat.

“Rowan, please,” she begged. Desperate for a release that dangled just out of reach.

Rowan latched on to her pulse point and pressed a thumb to her clit, the added sensations just what she needed to be sent hurtling over the edge with his name singed on her lips.

His breaths turned jagged while he shook with restraint. “Again,” he ground out. Molten pleasure sparked through her core in response to the command. 

Aelin rolled her hips into his, milking the drag of his swollen cock along her oversensitive inner walls. All the while his ministrations didn’t falter, thumb still pressing tight circles against her clit. The the pleasure sharp and bordering too much.

Her nails dug deeper into his heated skin, she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood and— 

O-oH, gods!

Rowan grunted as her body began contracting around him again, and a prolonged moan fell from her lips as she drowned once more in a blanketed wave of pleasure. He thrusted one final time before spilling deep into her and joining her in bliss.

Golden waves tumbled down her back as Rowan finally released his hold. He sagged against the sofa cushions, bringing Aelin with him, both of them panting and boneless.

Minutes ticked past, maybe hours. It didn’t really matter as she’d lost all concept of time. Only aware of the warm drag of his fingers up and down her back; of  the soft brush of his lips against her temple. 

Rowan shifted beneath her, slipping out, then effortlessly hauled them both up from the sofa. Aelin’s legs wrapped around him as he carried her deeper into the apartment. 

A mattress gave way at her back as Rowan gently lowered her to the bed. He looked her over for a moment with shining eyes and a soft smile before wordlessly removing her remaining garments, leaving her fully bare before him. 

With eyes glued to her lithe body sprawled out across his bed, Rowan groaned in appreciation while discarding the rest of his own clothes. 

Aelin sucked in a breath. 

He was glorious standing there in the nude—all corded muscle, bronze skin, and tattoos. 

Heat reignited in her core. 

Rowan eased onto the bed and crawled slowly up her body, kissing and nipping along the way. Aelin stretched beneath him and arched into his touch. His hand ran up along her ribcage, thumb brushing the  underside of her breast.

“Gods, Aelin, you’re beautiful.” His reverence washed over her with gentle warmth.

She smiled lazily. “I know.”

Rowan snorted, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face. “There you are,” he murmured. 

Yes, there she was. With the whisper of a flame finally flickering back to life in her heart. 

The smile remained until Rowan leaned down to capture her awaiting lips once more. 

--

Masterlist

[zoroara]

Okay you know what I wanna share another type of interaction analysis, I did this yesterday but got nervous. Anyway It's about Squalo's loyalty and then lead into just noting the reactions of Squalo being harmed by Xanxus, when and why they happen. This is how my rambling works Idk why, though the first half is definitely more interpretation the part where I get into the harming is more direct analysis. Short note: It's actually used really sparingly only really once an arc but at specific key moments. but the longer one will be below.

Squalo's intense loyalty is just an inherent trait to squalo I think it's very interesting to make it sheer willpower and drive that Squalo does most of his things, he's shown to be incredibly motivated to anything he puts his time into, to an overzealous degree. I really do think he was simply Impressed by Xanxus' ambition, strength as well as his wrath as Squalo himself claims, and wanted to see where it would go, as it presented many opportunities to improve himself further which it kind of has. He's also eternally focused on many causes, such as wanting Yamamoto to be at his best so they can fight again and he can win. He literally hates being in the same room as Yamamoto, gets pissed off at Yamamoto's light treatment of something he devoted his life to, yet just for his goals he spent an entire week alone in the forest with the kid JUST to make sure he could be ready to fight Genkishi again and take back that loss. Not only that shown to be loyal to the vongola, protecting them twice in future arc, trying to stop shimon, so on, he's an very intense and despicable man, but the things he chooses to be important to him are what he will devote himself to, no matter the cost to himself It's more to me that Squalo is willing to suffer through things to get what he wants one way, or another. So Squalo allowing Xanxus to take the leader spot isn't an act of submission to Xanxus. But he saw it beneficial to what his own wants were. it should be noted the fact that Squalo only ever really takes being harmed in the present but when then that's only because the scene moves far too much for him to stay focused and mad at Xanxus usually be interrupted by things by everyone literally having to haul ass somewhere, and when given the chance to do so in the future he has to be held back by Luss. The man is READY to at least give Xanxus what for, just more important things prevent him to doing such because unlike a good amount of other varia members, he very much focuses on what objective is most important at the moment.

Squalo's VERY first instance of being harmed is when he failed with the rings, and it's immediately "okay we need to move fucking NOW", It's not that squalo just accepts it, he just needs to move right away. plus this one specifically Squalo realizes that he failed, so of course he's a little more stunned than he usually is when it happens. he didn't KNOW and has to process he was also TRICKED.

The next, is the whiskey scene, however, in the manga it cuts off before we see any resolution, clearly more of an egg on, and we do not know Squalo's reaction after this, and honestly I would not be surprised if he kicked the shit out of xanxus. But also in this scene, both times in Varia arc Xanxus does have a clear reason for his actions. One was punishment for failure, and one was because Squalo was literally insulting him and what he was doing.

This was however changed to Squalo leaving the scene in the anime, leaving a different feel to this. Which is honestly a really good way to show how a small change can lead to a very different feeling in a scene. Because the anime version makes it seem like Squalo accepts this treatment. In the manga by having it hold on both of their eyes, the tenseness never relieves itself and makes it seem like they are prepared to clash instead. Emphasizing the next thing Dino said.

The ONLY time Squalo has time to react to this and isn't in the middle of something, is only in future that we get to see the after in the manga, and then there's someone to actually hold him back. which feels more consistent to the manga version of after the alcohol gets thrown at him. and he's ready to beat the shit out of xanxus(maybe he learned after the previous time not to throw shit at Squalo while they're alone.)

then, the last and final example, he is once again distracted because this happens in the middle of the hibari/fon fight in rainbow so he needs to focus immediately after it happens, with Mammon's little petty complaints against fon(A majority of panels being flashback panels so it feels like it takes longer) only in the middle of these two things in real time.

It's used very sparingly, usually when the viewer least expects it for emphasis which is why it sticks out so much in our minds. But not only that, there's usually some things that influence Xanxus' when and why for doing this.

As already stated, the TIMES Xanxus actually does this are usually chosen in the sense that a good 90% of the time, Squalo actually has his hands tied and can't retaliate at all, either by virture of other people being there, OR by virtue of something far more important happening there was only ONE time where it was just them But one of the most consistent reasons is that Xanxus is doing this to literally knock him down a peg(and then it doesn't work) it's not a good reason but it's still notable as a reason.

First one he's literally saying he deserves a reward for his work(without knowing he failed). Second he was telling Xanxus this was a waste of time and that he was going to win. Third he was asking if the vongola kids manages to survive and saying how they would have to help them. Fourth he literally was talking shit to hibari and Fon on how easy to beat them it would be. Xanxus is narratively used to bite down when Squalo's pride goes too far. But Squalo FAR from accepts this treatment.

Additionally, if you're choosing to count gags and such, Squalo isn't actually the only target to it. There are ones where they complain that Xanxus does this with all of them and he even blows up the whole castle because they were all annoying him. So when it comes to jokes there's more of an equality about it, just Xanxus is generally violent. Though! Even then I've noticed that he's only explicitly that violent when it won't backfire against him in non-gag scenarios. His rage is a little more tempered when you look at him, it's just when he knows it's not going to be an issue it's at 100. Xanxus is a lot more logical than even I initially realized but that's a different post.

[moltengoldveins]

alright, I gotta talk about Star Trek for a second. Specifically, a certain episode from The Next Generation called ‘The Inner Light.’ And the…. Well frankly, the baffling effect it has on my father.

The Inner Light is an extremely simple episode, all things considered. It’s one of the episodes where the whole point is to let Patrick Stewart gnaw on a philosophical question for a week and then set him loose in a contained set with very few actual recurring characters, and it shows. We see maybe two or three new sets, tops. The story is (spoiler alert, it can honestly be watched without any prior Star Trek knowledge at all so if you want to do that, you can) as follows:

The ENTERPRISE comes upon a small satellite of unknown origin while traveling. It appears inert. When scanned, it awakens and sends a concentrated beam through the cockpit and directly at Picard, who had stepped to the front of the room into direct line of sight so he could be visible to the camera call. He immediately passes out, and the medical team who is called in cannot tell what’s wrong, only that attempting to block the beam leads to Picard’s immediate near-death.

Meanwhile, Picard, dressed differently, wakes up in a sickbed in the living room of a cozy home. A woman claiming to be his wife is relieved at his recovery, but as he begins to speak, demanding to know where he is, she pretty quickly concludes that something is wrong and that Picard is still feverish. Slowly, he works his way through a slew of new people and places, all insistent that he is and always has been their friend, Kamin. Their culture is bright and lively, their people kind and welcoming, and despite ‘Kamin’s’ amnesia, they are more than willing to help him adjust.

It takes years for him to accept this new reality, but Picard lives an entire life as Kamin. He has children. He has grandchildren. As time goes on, the ‘drought’ present in his country grows worse and worse, the sun grown brighter and brighter, until it becomes obvious that the star, and the planet with it, is dying. The people don’t have the technology for space flight, and Picard despairs of saving anything of their culture, their way of life.

Then, as a frail old man, he hobbles with his grandson out to see a rocket launch, and faintly recognizes the shape of the satellite. That’s his satellite: his white whale, the thing that brought him here.

This entire life has been a dream: a desperate last ditch attempt to preserve the culture of a planet by sending a satellite out to find someone and making them live a life within the cultural tradition. No better way to make sure someone respects the natives than making them a native, right? Picard wakes up twenty minutes later on the Enterprise, barely coherent, only the faintest memories of his captaincy. He is forever changed, and the only real remnant of his life in the dream is a flute that was packed in amidst the satellite computers. The story ends on Picard, clutching that last little bit of his home like a lifeline, devastated at the fact that his planet isn’t just gone: it hasn’t existed in millennia.

my dad Sobs at this episode. Every single time. At first I didn’t know what about it touched him so much, but then my sister made a pretty salient point: this is kinda horrifying in concept. This is a complete violation of Picard in every possible way. Literally everyone in the story is walking around him on eggshells after he explains what happened because that is a deeply painful wound. The planets people have essentially manufactured the experience of loosing ones entire life and culture and being forcibly displaced in a foreign environment and made to adapt or die… twice. Picard finds himself a diaspora among people who cannot and will not understand or accept that twice.

And my dad didn’t even hesitate to respond “it was worth it. It was absolutely worth it. To preserve the culture? I would have done more, done worse. That’s important enough to justify that.”

I don’t know what I think about this episode, and whether the actions taken by the people are worth the suffering they inflict on Picard. I DO know that my dad scoffs at the idea of ‘Indigenous People’s Day.’ He rolls his eyes when people bring up Black Lives Matter. He’s actively defended Andrew Jackson in conversation with me. He’s not all bad, he’s learning, and he’s gotten better over time, but the fact remains: he is a hard-and-fast white conservative with absolutely no respect for any culture other than his own, and no understanding for why anyone would want to preserve their own heritage…. Except.

except he cries when watching The Inner Light. Except he does understand why someone would want to preserve their heritage. He just hasn’t made the logical leap from that to people who don’t look and sound like him, and that fascinates me. To me, that episode seems like a blatant metaphor for the cultural conservation efforts happening today, but for him? Apparently not?

it’s just so odd to me, and so convicting. My father is an incredibly intelligent upright man. He puts immense effort into his relationships and is always learning and growing to be better. And he STILL has blind spots big enough to miss something like that. It makes me wonder what blind spots I have that the people around me can’t possibly imagine missing.

it’s just… interesting, is all.

[russellshaws]

Chenford + 18 please!

chenford + things you said when you were scared

"So I'm right," she won't meet his gaze even though he's trying to catch hers. She busies herself with folding and re-folding the blanket thrown over the bottom corner of her bed, the one he'd put on her side for the nights when she gets cold and needs an extra layer (which is all of them, really). Her fingers fumble the corner once, twice, again. "You seriously don't think I can do it."

She hates herself a little for it.

She hates herself a little for everything lately, if she's being honest. There's this feeling in the back of her throat she can't get rid of, a tickle that's causing her to say things she doesn't want to, that's goading her on to be the worst version of herself because she can't not. If she's going down, she's dragging everyone with her. Is that dramatic? Sure, but she's never claimed to be anything less.

She sees the twinge in Tim's eye and something in her stomach soars, surges, squeezes. She's got him.

This is stupid, her rational brain tells her. You're self-sabotaging. Tim loves you. He believes in you. Stop picking fights with him because you're–

Shut up, she tells her rational brain, which apparently is the only part that doesn't have an issue listening to direct orders.

"Lucy, we're not doing this." His teeth are grit and his neck is tense. She can tell he's actively trying to soften his face, not to look stern and defeated in the way she knows he would if he wasn't aware of what she was doing. She would hate herself for doing this to him, but she decides to hate him a little bit for not calling her out on it instead.

"Doing what?" Her tone is snappier than she intends it to be, but it works in her favor.

He sighs deliciously. "This. This. We're not having this fight that has no point – either you believe me or you don't."

Lucy rolls her eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek as the silence floods between them.

Usually, the silence is comfortable. The silence is nice, even, while she folds her laundry and he reads through a file, pretending he's not struggling to see the text without the dollar store pair of cheaters she'd tucked away in his desk a few months back when she'd noticed how far away from his face he was holding his phone.

They don't talk and they don't have to, because she knows every tiny movement Tim's jaw will make while he reads gory details, because he knows every ClipTalk trick she'll use in order to fold a fitted sheet without asking for help. They don't need words to know what the other is thinking, what they'll do next, when they need each other.

Today, the silence is overwhelming. She ignores the piece of her that aches for him and swallows it down – partly because it doesn't matter, partly because she doesn't want it to.

She leaves the blanket in a lopsided lump on the edge of the bed and crosses her arms. "I'd believe you if you were believable," she offers, shrugging. "If you don't think I can do better a second time, you can just tell me. I'd rather know the truth than have you pretend to support me again."

Tim rolls his eyes. "You know what," he starts, but shuts his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm not giving you what you want here."

"Oh, I know," she huffs, a dry laugh escaping her throat. "Trust me."

Tim squints at her, then stands up, rolling his sleeves up slowly. She watches, tipping her head to the side. At least he looks nice. "Enjoying the show?"

"Immensely," she deadpans, then purses her lips and lets herself meet his eye. He's staring her down and she swallows hard. "What?"

"What are you getting from this," his voice is lower, softer. She rips her gaze away and shakes her head. "Lucy, come on – you don't get to use me as a punching bag because you're scared you're going to fuck up ag-," he stops himself, but the damage is done.

She shuts her eyes, turning on her heel and heading towards the bathroom. She's not upset, honestly – she's kind of relieved, revitalized, ready to rub it in his face. At least he's being honest, this time. At least he's not pretending he's not disappointed in her. "See?"

"That's not what I-," she shuts the bathroom door behind her, muffling the sound of him. He knocks on it softly. "Baby, come on."

"Do not," she nearly growls.

She hears the light thunk of his head leaning against the door and she takes a step away from it, bristling at the sound of him sighing out a slow breath. "You don't think you can do it. You don't, and you know that." She doesn't answer and he sighs again, this one louder. "Talk to me, would you?"

"Go home," her voice is on the tip of her tongue, surprising her when it comes out firm, strong, certain. She hadn't known she wanted him to go home. She's not actually sure she does.

"What?" He sounds genuinely confused. Lucy ignores the fact that part of her mind is racing around, searching for ways to keep him here and get him to convince the rest of her mind to leave her the fuck alone. "You want me to go?"

She doesn't give herself the chance to think about it. "Go," she says again, firm, "home, Tim."

He waits. She knows this game – he'll count to ten, then twenty, then thirty. If she doesn't tell him to stay by the time he reaches sixty, he'll leave her be. It's fucked up that she knows, she realizes. It's fucked up that there's a pattern to this at all.

She swallows, then glances over at her shower and taps her fingers against the door lightly. He taps back. He's got to be somewhere around 35, by now.

"Please go home," she repeats, and it sounds different. A little raw, a little real. "I just want to be by myself, okay?"

He's quiet. She huffs. "Are you going to answer if I call later?"

She surveys her thumb nail, then bites the loose skin on her cuticle gently. "Maybe," she mumbles.

"Are you going to snap at me again?"

"Probably."

"Wow," he sounds a little annoyed, but mostly bemused. "Honesty for once."

She groans, but he doesn't laugh. She hears the floor creak beneath his feet as he makes his way back into her bedroom, then through the kitchen, then out the front door. The lock turns and the hum of alone silence falls over her as she leans back against the door and shuts her eyes.

He didn't say goodbye. She files it away, another thing she can pick a fight over later if she needs to.

She ignores her rational brain, screaming for her to figure this out before she ruins the most important relationship in her life. She'll ruin it if she damn well wants to, thank you very much.

The alone silence, the silence she wanted, doesn't feel as good as she'd hoped.

[karenandhenwilson]

One last post from my side about this

I've been pondering how to do this post for the last couple of days, and also if I should write it at all. My thoughts went from being really vicious and unrepentantly calling out a couple of people to just not bother with wasting my energy on it to feeling very unsatisfied with some of the things that have been said or not been said despite also being relieved about the turn this situation took on Tuesday.

(The rest is under the break because this turned out long. Much longer than I expected.)

I honestly believe that any kind of call out post is always a form of cyberbullying. Because in the end, what you are doing with that in social media isn't informing people about a problem. What you are doing is trying to get people blindly to agree to your point of view by twisting the information you present. And sadly, all too often it works. 

It did work this time, too. I have seen several people state, publicly but also privately, that they saw one of the call-out posts from Monday and reblogged without looking at the publicly available conversation with the artist. When they then looked at it later, they were appalled with themselves to have blindly followed the accusations. I hope for those people and also at least a fracture of the people seeing their posts about it, this is a lesson: Always double check the information you are fed. (And honestly, that goes for news outlets as much as any social media post. But I don't want this post to be about media literacy.)

I'm aware that this is a kind of call out post all on it's own. The version of this post from Monday would have named all the names and at that time I wouldn’t have felt sorry about it. But that's the thing about reacting and posting something while the emotions are high, isn't it? A version from Tuesday doesn't exist, because I thought it not worth the energy and time the would be spend on it.

In the meantime, I have come to the conclusion that while I will be addressing a certain group of people, this post wouldn't have ever been about them, not even the first version from Monday. It's about fandom as a whole, preserving information for those who'll join the fandom in the future or who'll be attacked or witness an attack in the future or those who'll stumble over what happened this last week later on who are completely unaware of it right now. Because thankfully, for the fandom as a whole it didn't go very far.

I'm aware that in a way, I'm contradicting myself, that I might be participating in cyberbullying with this post. I'm rationalizing this for myself by the circumstances that it's a conclusion of a bullying campaign and that I won't feel responsible for those who started it being now attacked themselves. Some people will tell me I'm still wrong, some will shrug about it, others will agree with me. It is the reason, though, that I have decided not to name any names even though it will be stupidly easy to find the names I'm talking about. For that reason, I have cropped the screenshots I'll share about things I feel I need or want to address or blacked out the names on those screenshots.

To everyone who'll feel encouraged to seek out those names and spam their ask boxes or DMs with provocations or hate: Don't do it! It might feel satisfying in the beginning (the thought alone of the Monday-version of this post felt on Monday very satisfying for me, too), but it won't accomplish anything. They have proven they don't want to have a conversation, no matter how much they claim differently. Nothing will make them overthink and judge their own actions. (Also, I hope not providing the names here will make most of those who first like leaving anon hate to have lost interest once they have found the names because it will give them time to think better of it.)

And of course, the people who started this, have repeatedly stated they don't believe a call out post to be bullying. So they really won't be in a position to have a problem with this post. (They still will cry about it and claim the unfairness of it all, no doubt.)

An anon sent this to someone involved in this debate:

I've realised that I will never convince anyone by publicly shaming them. I might be able to silence them, but I won't convince them.

I fully agree with these words. I think everyone involved in this situation should take these words to heart. In other posts of the last view weeks, I already shared some thought about communication and teaching. I’ll elaborate on those thoughts in a later part of this post.

I realized this post is getting long. So I'm breaking it up in several parts and I'll add links to this post as soon as the other posts are up.

The actual call out part of this whole thing

Some thoughts about learning and communication

The usual aftermath

[madametnt]

Ashley Brown Callout Post

Let me start this off by saying you are completely valid if you like Ashley. Most people do. And I used to like her to until I really thought about her actions. Not that I’m trying to change any opinions. It’s not unreasonable to like or even love Ashley. Which is why it makes me mad that people think it’s unreasonable to dislike or hate her.

I would also like to emphasize that I think seeing her as a kind of shitty person makes her more interesting in my eyes. And the characters having layers of darkness brought out of them over the course of the night is one of my favorite things about the game.

I swear I love this game but I’m about to hate on like every character.

First, I wanna talk about Ashley’s most divisive scene. Her killing Chris. Not “freezing” or whatever. Murder by inaction. Because a lot of people for some reason always act like Ashley’s disdain for Chris doesn’t play a factor in this decision. If they wanted to convey her freezing up, then this was a big fumble on the writers part because they absolutely did not.

Like, look at the scene. Shawty walks up to the door, reaches out an arm like she’s about to open it, then flashbacks to him shooting her implying that’s what she was remembering, as every other time a flashback happens it’s a characters thought. So she certainly didn’t blank. And then while staring him dead in the eyes, backs away from the door and watches him die.

To me, that is calculated. That is vengeance. TOO LATE?! Girl WHAT? And I have seen people legitimately claim that it was all because she was just scared. Don’t get me wrong, I think fear and desperation definitely played a part of it. She had that primal monkey brain going on taking control of her. But you gotta be a different breed of stone cold to stare him in the eyes as he gets decapitated in front of you. Even if you are hella dissociating, she’s perfectly fine in the alt timeline. And the breath she takes it makes it seems like she’s relieved and accepting of what just happened.

Side tangent: I’ve heard people say this was a deliberate change of character to punish people for choosing a choice Chris would never choose. That makes me have an aneurysm. If he would supposedly NEVER do it, then why does he?! Why does he have the option??? Until Dawn to me has always felt like a game where no choice is inherently out of character. Differing choices simply play up different aspects of their personality or show a different side to them. So if this is somehow true, then that is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. And this builds upon the hidden darkness thing I mentioned earlier.

Honestly, I think Chris shooting Ashley to save himself is his hidden darkness. Possibly nearly killing the girl TWICE in one night via saw trap and by shooting her in the face as she’s begging for her life, all to serve his own interests. I don’t blame Chris for this. Man has been put through the wringer. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame Ashley for letting that subtle disdain and fear take hold of her when she allows Chris to perish. It would be hypocritical of me not to. Here’s the thing though, that’s a POSSIBLE reality.

What really bothers me is should Chris aim the gun at himself first, Ashley goes all “wait no babe shoot me instead.” And DO NOT try to say she wasn’t really saying Chris shoot her, because I don’t know how anyone could see that dialogue and think otherwise. Even when people try to justify it, it still makes no sense to me. To me, this comes off as Ashley just saying things since she doesn’t expect Chris to follow through and wants to seem like a good person. Ashley in general comes off to me as someone who tries to gaslight themselves into thinking they’re a better person than they really are. Which, yeah, everyone has done at some point in their lives. But for Ashley this is a trait that kind of looms over her head to me.

And even if she pulled that self-sacrifice BS, her relationship with Chris STILL drops to zero afterwards. Saying something you don’t mean is one thing. Killing someone over them believing your BS is a whole different ballpark. Say what you want about Emily, but at least with Emily you know where you stand. Then, she acts all dismissive of his death and LIES about what happened to the police. At least factually. Maybe she’d like to believe that she really had just froze. But actions speak louder.

Speaking of Emily though, let’s talk about the scene in the basement. Now, straight out the gate I wanna say I don’t hold Ashley responsible should Emily get shot. That is all Mike, who is such a fucking ape in this scene. All of them are (safe for Sam). But this ain’t about that dumbass right now. And no, I don’t think Ashley was advocating for Emily’s death. But I also don’t think she wasn’t NOT advocating for Emily’s death. She certainly didn’t object in the moment. Neither did Chris because, again, ape, but Ashley was way more vocal than he was about making her leave over NO EVIDENCE. ZILCH. NADA. Don’t even pretend like she didn’t know Emily was gonna die out there because she most definitely would have. And it’s this high impulsivity that Ashley displays that I honestly find annoying af.

And before you start with the “well if you were in her shoes-“ I’m gonna stop you right there. I am one year off Ashley’s age, and I am staking my life on no the fuck I wouldn’t. Because if I thought my friend, even if that friend was Emily, was possibly turning into a monster, I would still stall and find any excuse not to kill them. Especially because I would never forgive myself if we got someone killed someone who I still considered a friend. Even if indirectly. My people pleasing ass could never. Though I sincerely hope I never have to find out.

If my friend almost got me killed whether it be by forcing me to waltz to my death or by riling up the gorilla that is Mike by screaming bloody murder. Again, I don’t care if it’s realistic because ain’t no one else in that room except the aforementioned ooga booga man were in hysterics like those two doofuses were. Based on nothing except assumptions, might I add. The thought of pushing her out of the way to save myself would have at the very least crossed my mind. Say what you want but Ashley is the last person I would want on my team because she is NOT a team player. Shes only a team player when it’s convenient and that is not conducive.

Also her screaming gets on my nerves sometimes. This isn’t related to anything it’s just the truth. Granted all of her freakouts are VERY well acted. I actually love the way she is played. Though, that’s not saying much because every performance in UD is fire 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ironically, it was while making this rant that I realized I don’t hate Ashley as much as I thought I did. Honestly, I wouldn’t even say I really dislike her. (Hard to tell with everything I just said, I know.) Is she still the least baddest bitch in the game? Without question. (Except for when she stabs the psycho that was pretty sick) But a lot of her flaws make her interesting, and she stands out amongst the cast for both better and worse. I think people tend to fail to recognize the bad parts of her and try justifying her actions in moments where they really aren’t justifiable.

You fic writers though… lemme tell you. You guys are cracked at writing her. Keep doing the lords work.

Meeting adjured. *law and order sound effect.*