#so I do like her but I don't have actual personal substance in my liking of her!

[bumblingbabooshka]

thoughts on saavik?

I don't know anything about Saavik v_v I really love these two posts about her though! X and X I think about these posts often and whenever I do I feel like I want to draw!

[sketchtastrophee]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the employees under his supervision. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[inbabylontheywept]

How is your life so interesting

Normally, I just kind of laugh this question off, but I've been asked enough times I'm gonna take an honest stab at it.

So, the first thing worth considering is whether the story itself is all that interesting, or whether I am just a good storyteller. My most popular story is about cutting a lot of worms and half, and crying, and then being comforted by my mom. That's not a terribly uncommon or hard to imagine event. A lot of my stories more about the telling than the substance.

There are also some stories that are weird, but they're weird in ways that I also find, like, relateably weird? It might just be that I knew a lot of athletes in college, but I don't think eating raw eggs is that weird. Eating 15 in one go is, but I was roommates with a guy that ate like, three for breakfast, three in his in-class protein shake, and another three at dinner. That guy was attending ASU on a gymnast scholarship, but also, he genuinely ate 5 dozen eggs a week. That seems much more normal than eating 15 in one day.

To say nothing of eating raw onion. Tons of people eat raw onions. It baffles the non-onion eaters, but it's a super common thing. Especially in Mexico.

Some of the stories happen because I am better at noticing story-worthy events than most people. I can't tell you how many times I've been in public, and seen someone do some weirdass thing, and then had to nudge my wife and to get her to watch it too.

If I had to point to the parts of my life that are truly, genuinely, bafflingly weird, they would be my dating stories, and. I dunno. My general thermonuclear dumbass event posts. And I can break down why those two are interesting pretty simply:

I was unbelievably bad at dating. The majority of the time, that just meant that there was a few minutes of stilted small talk and never get a call back. But the thing is, Mormon culture strongly encourages dating as like, a social-practice thing, and I was very motivated to get good at it, so I just kept trying and trying and I think I went on at least 200 first dates before meeting my wife. I genuinely believe that if anyone went on 200 first dates, they would get some pretty incredible bad date stories too. Especially if they had autism. I know I write well, and I can sound very charming here, but it took me a very, very long to get decent social skills. I am just a disturbingly persistent learner.

I am very convincing. This is helpful when I am interacting with other people, because it can do things like, convince them to let me into their secret facility, or convince them to not vote Republican again, or to save at least put the company match into their retirement accounts. But when I'm just debating something with myself, my convincingness works against me: I am very good at tricking myself into believing that bad ideas are, somehow, actually good. This is part of why I have so much sympathy for the right wing lunatics that I work with. Every time I meet a crazy person I go, ah, but for the grace of God, go I. Anyway, this does an unfortunate thing where my excellent verbal skills drive my poor decisions, which results in the very odd combination of welll written, articulate stories about someone being A Fucking Idiot. Like the condom bomber story. I think this is also why most of the lawyers that I meet are insane in their personal lives.

Anyway, those are my theories! I'm gonna tag @lizardho because we mostly had the same childhood, but she has a better grasp on what normal people look like than me, and perhaps she'll have her own theories on the weirdness of our lives.

[parfaitblogs]

pretty isn't pretty ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the man you take home drunk meets the person you are sober, and he's all too forgiving for a stranger you'll probably only see once. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: alcohol consumption. reader has a bad relationship with her body. elusions to a hookup.  word count: 2.2k a/n: this isn't ooc for spencer reid you've just never hooked up with him. and that's ok. but i have. happy valentine's day from australia!! yay!!

"love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. and therefore is winged cupid blind." (a midsummer night's dream, william shakespeare)

There's a downpour of rain that came on so suddenly it had shocked you and your friends into a nearby bar. Droplets splattering against pavement and bouncing up to your otherwise exposed ankles. A skirt a poor choice of clothing for the cool air of a February night. 

The bar is small. You're sure if you concentrated hard enough, you could indulge yourself in each and every conversation happening around it. Men by the pool table succeeding at impressing the three girls they had found; gloating about their skills. An older couple huddled up in the back corner of the bar, two barely touched beers between them. A group of friends similar to your own occupying a booth and laughing louder than anyone else in the bar. 

A man. Alone. A glass of clear liquid that looks like water — but surely not? — between his hands, and a bartender talking to him and preparing more drinks. 

You connect the man to the group of people in the booth, for he turns his head and stares at them for a few seconds, lips moving as he counts them up. 

Then, his head turns to investigate the sudden rush of cold air entering the bar, and he meets your eyes. Newfound confidence — or the final tequila shot you took during pre's — kicks in, and your feet are carrying you over to him, a mere locking of a gaze inviting you in. You think. 

Maybe you're tipsier than you thought. 

"Do you need a hand with those?" you ask him, nodding your head towards the six glasses all filled to the brim, resting atop the bar. 

He hesitates, and glances back at the group of people in the booth, who are less concerned with him now that another conversation has piqued their interest. 

"If you're offering," he nods, picking up two of the glasses. "Though, it isn't wise of me to let a stranger handle my friends' drinks."

"You can pat me down first if you want," you reply, holding your arms out, as if you were in TSA. "See for yourself, officer."

He chokes on nothing, his eyes wide, and a coughing fit ensues for several seconds after. "It's—um, agent. Actually."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and your hands drop back by your side when he doesn't move to check for illicit substances on your person. You assume that means he trusts you.

"That's fancy," you quip, picking up three of the glasses. "What makes you an agent?"

"Working for the government," he replies, leading you over to the table, where you help him put the drinks on the table. "I left my water at the bar."

An expert excuse to drag you away from his group of friends before they have a chance to engage with you, really. 

"Working for the government," you parrot back to him, leaning against the bar when he does. "Do I get to ask more questions, or is it your turn now?"

"You can ask more questions."

He tells you his name when you ask. You tell him yours. 

And more questions got you drunk. More questions got you dragging him back to your apartment. More questions got you barely picking your feet up as you walk backwards, stumbling, as his lips kiss your own, and his hands hold your waist against his. 

Your hands fumble with the door handle of your bedroom, and you take the few seconds to silently pray to the universe that the girl who left the house earlier didn't leave fifteen failed outfit options strewn throughout it. 

You don't get a chance to turn around and check, for his lips are back on yours the second the door swings open, and he takes barely a moment to locate your bed in the room. If there are clothes everywhere, he doesn't make it an issue. 

He was a really good kisser. Mind blackening, body tingling, head reeling good. Every sound that hit your ears came from your own lips, you're sure. 

He breaks the kiss only to murmur, "Sorry," when the backs of your knees hit your bed frame, but you're a little too happy to care about the inevitable bruise currently forming on the skin there. 

Fingers of yours drag up to his scalp and entangle within his hair as you lay back on the bed, and he follows you down.

You force him to kiss you. Again. 

"Do you do this often?" you ask him, breathlessly, when he pulls away to litter his generous kisses over the skin of your jawline and neck.

"What?" he asks, hair covering his eyes as he pauses to look back up at you.

"Go home with girls from bars."

"Will you believe me if I say you're the first?" he moves back up to level his face with your own. 

"Probably not."

"You should."

You do.

Unfortunately, the question stemmed from the weird middle ground between being so drunk you don't remember five minutes ago, and being so sober you overthink every decision, accompanied by the sick crash from the sugar in your drinks. Which meant your liquid courage was dissipating with every ticking second, and you were retreating back into the secluded palace of your mind. 

It was why, when his fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, your own hands fly to stop him, wrapping around his wrists and freezing him in motion.

"What's wrong?" he asks. 

That causes you to freeze. 

You're not sure if telling this inherent stranger that you don't want him to take off your clothes because you're remembering why you don't do hookups and are suddenly feeling too insecure to want to sleep with him is a good idea. But there's something about the way his eyes are filled with so much concern, instead of the frustration you expected, that makes you want to spill every single secret you have out to him. 

"I'm... um..." you hesitate, and he leans back enough for you to crawl out from beneath him, hugging your knees to your chest as you do every self secluding human trait there is. From your eyes fixating on your bedding, to your fingers interlacing and fidgeting with each other. 

He doesn't rush you to talk. 

"I just... don't think I can do hookups. With strangers," you sigh, defeated. "I'm sorry I made you come all the way here for—well, nothing."

He's still silent, and it's your eyes lifting to try and read his expression that triggers him into a response. 

"We don't have to have sex for me to enjoy your presence," he replies. "I enjoyed talking to you."

"Yeah, but—" you force air through your nose to stop yourself from scaring him off with a verbal rant "—you don't know me. Not really. You came home with me with the intent of sleeping with me. And now I'm telling you we can't do that, so you can go."

His eyes burn against your skin as he studies you. "Do you want me to leave?"

The answer should be yes. You don't know this man, and he does not know you. Yet, there's a clawing need to ask him to stay. So you can get to know him, and him, you.

"No," you fidget with your fingers again. He chooses not to stop you. "I liked talking to you too."

"Great," he picks his feet up and crosses them on your bed. You hope your cringing at his shoes on your bedding isn't visible. "Can I ask why you don't do hookups?"

"So you can read my mind?" you quip, and his lips twitch into a smile as he huffs. 

"Let it go."

"You can't tell me your job is to read minds and expect me to let it go."

"My job is to use behavioural analysis to build the profile of a criminal," he replies. "Not to read minds."

"Sounds exactly like something a mind reader would say," you bite down on your bottom lip to stop the dumb grin from spreading across your face at the way he's looking at you. Unimpressed, but ultimately amused. 

"Well, this isn't me trying to read your mind. There's many reasons why someone might not want to have sex. I want to know yours, so I know how to approach the topic in the future."

Your breathing stops, but you force yourself not to focus on the implications of his words. Excitement for a man you met that night was never wise. He could ghost you come tomorrow morning, you remind yourself. 

"It's kind of heavy," you say, lifting your gaze to look at him through cautious eyes. 

"I can do heavy."

You purse your lips. "I don't know," you stretch your legs out in front of him. He takes them and sets them in his lap, and your heart flutters. "I don't like the idea of someone I don't know seeing me naked."

Hands ghost over your skin. "Why?"

Your head lowers to your fidgeting hands. "I'm just not happy with how I look, I guess? If somebody doesn't know me for my personality, they don't have anything to stick around for if they see me the way I see myself. Not to say I have a stellar personality. But I'd like to have at least one redeeming quality. Because... my body... isn't..." your voice is small by the time you finish, and you're skeptical as you face your fears to stare up at him once more. 

He visibly swallows, and you regret every word that had just left your mouth within seconds. So much for the whole not scaring him off thing.

"You don't have to say anything," you break the silence that only lasted a few seconds, anyways. "It's a weird personal thing. I'm fine with having sex with partners. Obviously. It's just strangers."

"I think," he pauses, and his hands stop their stroking on your legs as he strings together his words. "I think you're with people that are too shallow if they don't still want you after seeing your body."

"Well—um, nobody's actually ghosted me after sleeping with me..."

And now you feel dumb. Admitting to having an insecurity that's entirely baseless is dumb. He's probably turning over the very thought that you're dumb inside his head, and formulating a plan to get out of here, and—

"I get it," he surprises you instead. "But in the opposite way. My personality isn't for everyone. Or anyone, is a better way to put it."

"I like your personality," you tilt your head to the side.

He smiles weakly at your attempt of reassurance. "You've known me for one night. And you were drunk for most of it."

"So I'm not allowed to like your personality?" you challenge. "Isn't there something about not needing much time to know whether or not you like someone?"

"Sort of. We can determine a few things about people within those first few seconds, but they aren't set in stone forever. What you like now, might become annoying in a few months time," he says. 

"I don't think I'll find you annoying in a few months time," you murmur.

"And I don't think I'll dislike your body. But you won't believe me, and I won't believe you," he counters. "Make sense?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Is this some weird mind reading thing to manipulate me into sleeping with you?"

"No, because I can't read minds," he shoots you a look, "and I also don't care about having sex with you tonight. I can wait."

He can wait. You hope you don't look stupid smiling at the concept of him waiting for you, implying he will be here for more than just one night. 

"I think a psyche evaluation for a first date is kind of insane," you say.

"I can make it up to you?" he offers, and you stare with keen interest. "We can go get coffee. Or something. I won't analyse your behaviour during it."

"That doesn't close off the possibility of you reading my mind, though."

"What would I find?" he then asks, throwing you off balance. 

"If you read my mind?" he nods at your question. "Um... a lot of insecurities, I think. My friends. Song lyrics. My favourite colour... what would I find in yours?"

"A lot," his hands drag along your shins. "I don't even know where to begin."

"It's the high as fuck IQ," you shake your head, dismissively; jokingly. "I hate it. Stop thinking."

"I do with you, I think. Well, I haven't really thought about much else other than you. Which isn't common. I can usually split my attention well."

"Is it because you can't split it, or don't want to?" you ask him.

"Both. I'm quite content just listening to and thinking about you."

You duck your head as a smile paints your lips. "Welcome to normal brains."

"Thank you. I don't mind them."

"Give it a few weeks."

His shoulders shake as he laughs, and you think the sight is wonderful, and you're easing back up post anxiety. You have to applaud him for doing it so quickly, and so well.

Laughter and the positive tension between you two dies down, and you're left looking at him with fond eyes and the same stupid smile on your face. All while he's staring back at you, and you're sure you can see his attention fail to stay on your eyes, for his gaze keeps dropping to your lips.

"I haven't thought about much but you, too," you say. 

He kisses you.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[sigweiner]

⌁₊˚ Shiver ˚₊⌁ {P2}

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!/Gnc!/Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You seek advice with an acquaintance before 'reconciling' with Jinx on Silco's office desk. Bonus fluff with Isha in the end.

Warnings!: fluff, smut, swearing, angst, t06!c relationship, substance use, mentions of dark ses and physical stuff.

a/n: I'm working on part 3 and 4 bc I had so much fun writing this. Also, I appreciate everyone that interacts with my posts ♡. English is not my first language, sorry for the weird punctuation and sentences. Minors and creeps dni.

{P1} {P3}

You haven't shown up at the hideout in a week. You've been staying at different places every day since that night as to prevent Jinx from tracking you down, even though you didn't believe she would try to since you were a major jerk to her after what was probably her first time with someone ever. You’ve been punishing yourself for that too even though you weren’t entirely sure you were her first. You’ve been drinking yourself to sleep every night since then. The irony in this whole situation is that that party was supposed to cheer you up and bring you out of gloomsville but it only managed to sink you further into a dark hole.

Maybe you should apologize and try to understand what really happened, but you’re pretty sure she’ll try to blow your head off after psychologically torturing you but at the same time you can’t keep up like this, it’s exhausting. So you think of the only person you know with a semblance of knowledge and that you can go fish for advice. Getting up from the dirty floor you slept on, you throw on your hooded cloak to go meet her and start to move through the shadows of the dirty zaunite streets without being noticed by anybody until you reach an alley where three people are sitting around a wooden crate, drinking, smoking and playing cards.

Sevika has a cigarette in her mouth and grins wickedly at the hand she’s been dealt. You try to figure out a way to alert her of your presence but in no time she’s throwing cards on the table and collecting her winnings for the night. She doesn't linger so you follow her around the maze of streets and alleyways. She keeps looking back, checking if anybody is following her, her instincts probably warning her that someone actually is. She stops to light another cigar and rests her back on a nearby wall so you take the opportunity to come out of the shadows, appearing in front of her.

“Damn, you look like death itself.” She says with a raised eyebrow. “Came to finish the job after all?” But there’s no real concern to her voice.

“Can we um… talk?” You ask, uncertain about how you’re going to bring this about with Sevika, of all people.

“Talk? You sure you’re not confusing me with someone else?” She lets out a dark chuckle and you roll your eyes at her reaction, she wasn’t about to make this easy for you.

“Yeah… have you uh… seen Jinx lately?” You hate how insecure you sound, being this vulnerable is making you want to give up and bolt.

“Jinx huh? Aren’t you two practically glued to each other?” She asks with an amused smirk on her face.

“We had a fight. No, actually I fucked up…” You say looking down at the floor. Sevika lets out a laugh.

“Well that’s not unheard of coming from you.” She teases. You sigh heavily and shake your head but you kind of deserve it. “She’s been looking for you, y’know?” Sevika says seriously now. You look up at her surprised to hear this piece of information.

“Really? Is she still mad? Do you think I should go back to the hideout?” You blurt out, hope growing in your chest.

“Slow down kid. Listen, I'm not gonna tell you what to do. Especially because I don't give a damn about your little lovers quarrel.” She starts explaining her line of thought before taking a break to puff out her cigar. “What I'm going to tell you is this: that crazy girl is obsessed with you and that kid. She's been nagging me about helping her find you this entire week. Which I don't appreciate one bit. So for the sake of my sanity and both of your safety, you should go and take care of this.” She finishes with an annoyed look but you appreciate her words greatly.

“We're not lov-” You star to retort but she gives you a death glare which makes you halt. “Okay fine, I’ll take care of it.” You tell her earnestly.

“Good.” She pushes herself off of the wall and throws the remains of her cigar on the floor. “Now fuck off, Shiv.” That's the first time you ever hear her call you by your alias which brings you a sense of respect. You chuckle, starting to disappear in the shadows.

“Thanks, Sevika.” Your disembodied voice reverberates through the empty alley.

“Tsk, creepy kid.” Is the last thing you hear her say from a distance before you turn around the next corner.

The familiar feeling of fear burns inside your chest when you reach Jinx’s hideout but you find it eerily quiet and still. There's no sign of the blue haired girl but you spot Isha snoozing peacefully on the orange couch. You approach her silently to move some hair off her face and kiss her forehead gently. She stirs a bit but doesn't wake up and you take a moment to just admire her easy slumber.

You're glad at least little Isha is safe and unbothered by this whole ordeal between you and Jinx, although you did cause more instability by leaving unexpectedly. She is the better part between the three of you and not being around her just made everything worse. You wonder if she even missed you because you’ve definitely missed hanging out with her. Before you leave, you cover her little figure with a blanket so she doesn't get cold.

You rack your brain for places where Jinx might be. You check the nearby bathroom and the next door building's roof where you very probably took her virtue, but there was no sign of her. You try not to think of that night, her soft lips, the way she felt around your fingers or your stupid harsh words, but it was all still very vivid in your head.

You wish you could go back in time and do everything differently but there's no point in dwelling on that, you need to find her. So the next place you can think of is Silco’s old office, Jinx had dragged you there before to retrieve something from her secret stash when you were still her prisoner, so you try to remember how to get there.

You move as fast as you can through the shadows but nights at Zaun were very much busy and filled with people, which makes you take longer than necessary just to avoid anyone. You finally manage to reach the abandoned office but you stop outside the door when you hear her speaking softly, then angrily, seemingly trying to process a lot of different emotions.

You take a deep breath before quietly stepping in, careful not to make any noise and alert her to your presence, so you wait for the right opportunity. From where you're standing you can see pow-pow holstered on her hip and that she's wearing different clothes. Striped purple pants and a black crop top, which are certainly new. You wonder what happened to her old clothes.

When you step into the light after she finally gets quiet, she sees your reflection on the big round window in front of her. A bullet misses you by inches, leaving a cut on your cheek that draws some blood. You don't react, shit if she wants to shoot you right through your chest you would let her, that's how much you believe you need punishment for what you did. Jinx lets out an angry grunt and uses her superspeed to come halfway close to you when she suddenly stops to scream at the voices to shut up.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” She screams at you now. “You're MINE Shiv! Don't you fucking get it?! Why did you leave me?!” Her voice cracks in the end and she starts crying, body shaking as she starts to sob uncontrollably. You chance a step towards her but she shoots by your feet making you freeze again.

“I-I know, I fucked up big time, Jinx.” You tell her desperately, tears also running down your face. “Please forgive me. I'll do anything you want. I'll never run again, fuck you can lock me up in a cage again if you want, but please… I'm so sorry.” You beg, reaching a hand forward from where you're standing several feet away from her. She grabs the sides of her head and shakes it, trying to shut down the voices.

“You're sorry? How fucking dare you toy with my feelings like that?! I gave myself to you completely and you treat me like I'm some... animal you can chase away when you're done playing with it… you made me feel so good… called me princess and then treated me like I'm some just street trash…” She rants between sobs and your heart shatters in a million pieces.

“I know, I-I was a total asshole loser. I didn't know you had these feelings… I didn't know you were a… that that might have been your first… everything really. I mean, was it?” You need to know, damn if it’s true you would’ve done everything differently. She huffs angrily and turns away from you, hugging her middle as if trying to close herself from you.

“Does it matter now? You can’t change what happened.” She says with a shaky voice and zaps back to sit on the wooden desk, propping a foot on the swivel chair that once belonged to her father. Her shoulders are still shaking from crying but at least she’s not screaming anymore.

“I guess it doesn’t. But I wish I could’ve done things differently. If I had known about your feelings… I guess I shouldn’t have been so stubborn and ignored my own.” You slowly start to move closer to her when she puts her gun aside.

“Try asking next time.” She says, seeming exhausted. You manage to round the desk and stand in front of her. She glances at you, makeup all smeared underneath her eyes, and looks away. You want to reach out so badly and hold her in your arms, but you don’t want to trigger her any further.

“Okay, then. Do you… like me, Jinx? As more than friends or whatever we have going on, I mean.” You question her honestly. Your face burns furiously though, being this forward feels foreign to you.

“Yes dummy, I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” She finally looks at you and chuckles at your reaction. You’re completely dumbfounded, the look of shock on your face practically comical. What does she mean she’s in love with you? Your brain is trying hard to add two plus two but it takes you a minute.

“You - you’re in love with me?” You ask incredulously. Jinx nods timidly, her cheeks starting to blush a deep pink. “I uh… wow. I really wasn’t expecting that but... if I’m being honest with myself… I think I’ve been in love with you for a while too.” You manage to say before bursting into tears. Jinx reaches out an arm to you and you take her hand. She pulls you towards her, snuggling you between her legs and you practically melt into her, burying your face on her neck as she embraces you.

“Oh my silly Trinket.” She purrs against your hair. She moves a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other rubs circles on your back. You’re both still crying, the weight of all that was said and done falling upon you.

“I should- should be the one comforting you.” You say between sobs. “I’m so sorry, Jinx. I’ll never hurt you ever again.” You promise her, lifting up your head to look her in the eyes. She gives you a teary smile and caresses your cheek, making you lean into her touch.

“You better not.” She says, chuckling. “I don’t think I can survive another one of these.” She gestures between you two. You laugh timidly, wiping under your nose when she leans in to kiss your cheek, the one cut by her bullet. Your eyes flutter from feeling the softness of her lips on your skin and you instinctively rest your hands on her waist.

Jinx wipes your tears and blood gently and pulls you in for a tight hug, snaking her legs around your waist and laying her head on your chest, close to your fluttering heart. You cup the back of her neck to caress it lightly, goosebumps rising to the brush of your fingers. She lets out a heavy sigh and tightens her grip on you. You swear you could stay like this forever, having the heat of her body warm up your soul. And to think you almost gave this up because you couldn't let yourself be vulnerable.

“My chaos princess, I'm so lucky to be yours.” You say against the top of her head. She looks up at you with doey eyes before leaning in to kiss your lips. You sigh into the kiss and cup her face with shaky hands. Gods, how you missed the taste of her so you graze your tongue on her bottom lip seeking entrance and she lets you deepen the kiss.

Your tongues dance languidly against one another very unlike the first time you two kissed, no desperation or urgent desire motivating your actions, just simply wanting to memorize every stroke and every breath and every shiver elicited. You can't help but let out a moan when her hands run up your back, breaking the kiss. She takes the opportunity to kiss a path down your neck, dragging her teeth on the tender skin of your pulse point. You let out a quiet ‘fuck’ when she starts suckling a hickey on the curve between your neck and shoulder. Although you definitely don't mind being marked by her, you pull gently on one of her braids making her move away from your neck so you can kiss her senseless.

Jinx is utterly pliant to your desires and lets you guide her wherever you want, you don't quite remember her ever being this willing to let go of any control except for that fateful night you had her writhing underneath you. In no time your hands start to wander, desperate for a reminder of what her thighs feel like. They're still firm like you remember but only now there was too much clothing covering them. She tries to pull you closer, tightening the grip of her legs around your hips. You smile against her lips before grinding against her crotch, making her let out a delicious moan.

“Getting a little excited aren't we?” You say close to her ear. She whines, seemingly frustrated that you're talking and not kissing her.

“You haven't earned teasing privileges yet, Trinket.” She says with a cute pout on her face. “Now, why don't you make it up to me by making me feel real good, huh?” She says planting that damn attractive smirk on her face.

“Anything for you princess.” You mirror her expression before connecting your lips in a soaring kiss. She hums in approval then lets you explore her mouth with your soft tongue. You take this opportunity to run your hands up her stomach and towards her chest.

“I like these new clothes by the way.” You digress, running your index fingers through her side boobs. “Though I prefer you in way less clothing.” You lick her lips playfully and she chases after your mouth.

“Yeah, I've noticed.” She loops a finger through the hoop on your choker to pull you close to her mouth. “I’ve caught up staring before. Several times.” She whispers and you can't help but feel a little embarrassed by that.

“Fuck, was I that obvious?” You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment. The blue haired girl kisses your face sweetly.

“Yeah, but lucky for you I was really into it.” She giggles before closing the gap between you. You grind against her again before pulling up her top, exposing her chest to your hungry fingers. She whimpers when you pinch at her pierced nipple and tries to seek more friction on her core with her lower body, making your own arousal pool inside your pants.

You part from her mouth to whisper a suggestion in her ear. “I want to try something, will you let me?” She nods her head positively so you kiss the skin behind her year before looking her in the eyes. “I want to taste you, princess.” You say watching her reaction. Her eyes grow wide and her face turns red but she gives you a quiet okay.

“We don't have to if you don't want to.” You reassure her but she shakes her head furiously before grabbing onto your chest harness with shaky hands.

“No, please I- I want to.” She says timidly but plants a soft kiss on your lips. You hold her face with one hand.

“Okay, but just so you know, we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” You want to make sure she feels comfortable every step of the way. She nods again and it's your turn to kiss her tenderly.

You start to venerate her body by kissing down her neck, leaving a couple of bruises on her throat before showering her chest with attention. You loved on her small perky breasts, licking and biting her hardened nipples until she was a panting mess. Then you move to her stomach and her waist covered with the cloud tattoo you loved so much, not missing the opportunity to leave a few markings next to the line of her pants. You chance a glance up at her and you're met with a sight you wish you never forget. She has a frown between her eyebrows, her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen from your kisses.

You untangle her legs from around you then lower yourself on your knees before hooking your fingers on the hem of her pants. “You okay over there?” You ask with an innocent smile. She lets out a frustrated whine.

“Fuck Y/N, please just take them off already.” She says impatiently. You chuckle but obey anyway, pulling down the offending clothes down her legs, boots going with it in the process.

You kiss her left feet and up her leg before reaching the inside of her thighs. Jinx is already trembling when you spread her legs further, entirely exposing her to you. Your mouth waters at what you find, her wetness already running down her inner thigh, engorged clit pulsating with want and outer lips are puffy from all the blood concentrated on her core. You snake your arms around her thighs and you pull her closer to the edge of the desk. She has a death grip on it, knuckles turning pale already.

“Can you hold my hair up for me, princess?” You ask politely, laying a kiss on her pubic mound. She complies and you feel her grip tighten when you lick a firm path through her pussy.

“Hoooly fuck.” She says, rolling her eyes inside her skull and dropping her head back. You smile at her reaction and continue slowly lapping at her with a firm tongue.

“You're so hot.” You tell her when you take a break to part her folds with two fingers.

“You should see yourself.” She replies, running her thumb through your jaw till it reaches your lips.

You open your mouth to expose your tongue to her, making her slide her finger on it. You smirk before wrapping your lips around it and start sucking and moving your head back and forth to cover the whole length of it with your saliva. She just looks at you, hypnotised. You take her hand, releasing her thumb with a pop, then guide it towards her own chest, smearing your saliva on her pierced nipple. “Shit, I'm gonna lose the rest of my sanity if you keep up like this.” She tells you in awe, pupils completely blown with desire.

“I definitely don't mind.” You chuckle before returning your attention to her dripping center. You massage her clit between your digits before pulling up its hood and wrapping your lips around it to give it gentle sucks. Above you, Jinx lets out an obscene moan that reverberates through your own body, making you moan against her as well.

“Oh fuck, I'm gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't hold-” She mumbles incoherently, unintentionally pulling on your hair so tight you let out a whimper against her. You let go of her protruding bud before she reaches her peak, making her protest with an impatient whine and she tries to force you back where she needs you by pushing your head forward but you diverge your face towards her inner thigh, biting down at it. She lets out a cry that sounds more like a moan so you soothe the bruise with your tongue.

“Be patient, princess.” You tell her before flicking your tongue lightly on her clit. She squirms and tries to close her legs involuntarily.

“Hah that tickles.” The feather-like sensation making her finicky.

“Humm. Do you prefer it more like this?” You apply more pressure when you lick her this time and you see her eyes flutter at the sensation.

“Yeeah, that's better. Just like that.” She drops her head back once more, mouth agape but still managing to hold your hair away from your face with one hand.

She's a true vision from where you are kneeling between her legs and you realise how close you already feel to your own orgasm just by pleasuring her. So when you tease two fingers on her entrance you decide to slide your free hand inside your pants to take care of yourself. Jinx looks back at you starved when your digits reach the back of her wall and you notice she's fighting hard not to close her eyes so she can watch you satisfy yourself while you fuck her. You finally give her throbbing bud the attention it deserves by sucking hard on it.

It only takes a few pumps of your fingers inside her until she's reaching her orgasm, shaking so hard around your head you need to reach over to steady her. You help her ride her high but you've got no intention to slow down and stop. On the contrary, you fuck her harder and graze your teeth on her clit a few times, teasing it. She gasps and looks at you surprised but doesn't try to stop you. You catch her clit between your lips again when you return your hand to your center.

You want to make you both come together and it so happens when Jinx lets out a long moan and squirts all over your mouth and down your throat. Your eyes roll backwards at your own pleasure coating your hand with your ecstasy. You two moan in unison as you ride your fervor for a little longer before you release her clit and slowly remove your fingers from inside her. She collapses back on the desk, chest heaving, and you also try to steady your breathing.

“You okay over there, Jinxie?” You ask after a minute, worried you might have broken her.

“Better than okay.” She slurs her words, sounding drunk. You chuckle and try to get up but it seems your legs have turned to mush.

“Wanna give me a hand then?” You ask playfully. She sits up and looks down at you with amusement but as she takes in the state you're in, her eyes darken.

“Didn't expect you to be worse off than me.” She says half jokingly and offers you her hand. You reach to take it but before you can she grabs your wrist and starts cleaning your cum off of it. “Hmmm, as sweet as I dreamed you would be.” She says after finishing her handiwork. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

She manages to lift you up to your feet and pulls you in for a passionate kiss, licking up all of her fluids from your face passionately. Her wandering hands find the swell of your ass and squeezes making you moan her name. You knew where this was going but you didn't know if you were ready yet for it to happen. Jinx starts kissing your jaw and down your throat when you hear someone entering the room suddenly.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sevika says in horror.

After having survived Sevika’s wrath in what you now know is her new office, you and Jinx return to the hideout separately so as not to attract attention to yourselves. When morning comes and Isha wakes up to the sight of you sleeping on a thin mattress next to the couch and Jinx hunched over her workstation, tinkering away at some random project, she lets out a confused sound. The kid sits up and removes the blanket from herself, wiping the sleep off of her eyes before crossing her arms on her chest with an angry look on her face.

As if sensing she is awake, you stir into consciousness and open one eye to chance a peek in her direction but your vision is still blurry from sleep so you lazily throw an arm in Isha’s direction only to feel your hand being swatted away. Oh boy, here we go again. You sigh deeply before sitting up as well and resting your forearm on the couch. Isha gestures to you that she's angry you left and that Jinx was really sad, completely out of control and even burned up her clothes while laughing maniacally at the flames.

“Burned her clothes?” You whisper back. The little kid nods positively and like a tough loving parent, she gestures and demands to know what happened. “I-I know, I screwed up big time. And um… I didn't think I deserved forgiveness, so I left.” You try to explain without getting into what actually happened.

She huffs and looks about as disappointed as you feel for having left her. “I'm sorry Isha. I shouldn't have left you and I couldn't stand being away from both of you so I came back. I'm not sure if Jinx has forgiven me entirely but if you can, that would mean the world to me.” A tear rolls down her cheek so you reach over to wipe it away and this time she doesn't reject you.

On the contrary, Isha lunges forward and throws her little arms around your neck, burying her face in your hair. You cradle her head and make soothing patterns on her back as she cries quietly, wishing you could take all her sadness away. “It's okay baby. I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” You reassure her.

There's suddenly a light weight hugging you both as Jinx decides to join in your little moment of reconciliation, probably having overheard what you said. “Yeah, I won't let it happen.” she says resolutely. You smile because even though the implications behind her words are very dark, your heart can't help but flutter at her pledge.

“I've forgiven you, y’know?” She whispers now into your ear. You turn to look at her with tears in your eyes as she backs away slightly. You want to kiss her so badly but at the same time you don't want Isha to feel weird about whatever you've got going on with Jinx.

However she is the one to take the first step and lean in to kiss your cheek. You don't understand how a simple act of affection can make your heart beat so fast and your face burn so hot when not long ago you were doing much more lewd things to her that elicited this same reaction. She smirks at your flustered expression but looks away when she realises Isha watched the whole scene unfold. The little girl looks between you two and mimics Jinx by planting a quick kiss on your other cheek.

“Hey! I'm not willing to share, kid.” Jinx protests but Isha only giggles and sneakily gives the blue haired girl's face a smooch before snaking her arms around both your necks to pull you into a group hug with a huge smile on her face.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @cafekitsune.

[identitty-dickruption]

Is there anything that you see when someone writes addiction/alcohol addiction specifically that really annoys you? As someone trying to write something related rn, having someone who actually knows about it's perspective is really useful :]. Obviously no pressure to answer! Have a nice day <3

oh absolutely yes. I've seen some truly shocking things of late. and also in general very happy to bitch about it for a bit

it may sound obvious but don't. like. blame the entirety of a person's addiction on a single factor or act like "if only they had access to x piece of information, they wouldn't be an addict!". in candy house by Jennifer Egan, one of the characters became an addict because of her dyslexia and her inability to find fictional characters who Truly Understood Her. don't do that.

try not to smooth them out into a singular dimensional person. or even a two dimensional person (where the two dimensions are addiction and trauma or whatever). an addict is a human being. weirdly difficult for people to conceptualise this

NOBODY gets withdrawal right. withdrawal is Not a couple shakes and then you're good. withdrawal can last weeks, if not months, depending on how dependent the person was on the substance and depending on what the substance is

similar to the above, if someone relapses while they're experiencing withdrawal, the withdrawal symptoms do not immediately disappear. if you're throwing your guts up you won't be magically fine the moment you get your substance in you. you will still feel incredibly shit for a good couple hours Minimum

implying that addiction is inherently irrational, or selfish, or stupid. addiction is a response to a set of circumstances that make sense to a person at the time. nobody becomes an addict for shits and giggles. there is always something else going on

likewise, the "high functioning alcoholic" trope has. problems. like I spent an entire year being tipsy non-stop while I was also doing alright in university and whatever. very definition of high-functioning alcoholism I guess. but I think those characters are done Poorly a lot of the time in that the nature of the interpersonal issues they have never feels Quite Right

"I got sober for love" shut the fuck up. "you saved me from myself" go away. "one real human relationship fixed my dependency on substances" no it did not. if love cured all ills, I would be the healthiest guy on the planet. it simply does not work that way <- falling in love makes it easier to love myself and have hope for the future but at the end of the day I'm still a traumatised bitch who struggles with shit

the entire concept of an intervention. addiction does not end with One Grand Event that will make everything better. forcing someone to go to rehab barely ever works. interventions are not one-off events, they are a series of kind and compassionate conversations that occur over a long period of time

sorry this ended up being a lot more than I thought it would. I think if you asked me again tomorrow I would have five to ten more things to bitch about. idk. people get the complexities of addiction wrong A Lot and I've read/seen more bad rep than good rep. but oh well. it's important to me that people are out there trying their best to do better! so thanks for asking

[chrystabelleblaumferge]

Imma say it

I hate Booktok and everything it represents (glorification of anti-intellectualism and overconsumption) so by extension I despise ACOTAR but the anti-SJM fandom, particularly the anti-Rhysand, anti-Feyre and anti-Feysand peeps are some of the most intelligent people who have come out of the fandom from a book series I genuinely loathe.

I find it ironic yet charming that the anti side of this fandom is actually filled with brilliant and bright minds as opposed to the "pro" side of that fandom who speak and act like they've been programmed by a cult to repeat the same type of opinions like a broken record. The people accused of being "vile and hateful" happened to be some of the best human beings I've ever interacted with and are willing to listen to dissenting opinions and debate in a civil manner.

In contrast, the "pro" side of the fandom who love everything these books represent are generally some of the most unpleasant and vile people I've had the displeasure of encountering. I was already uninterested in the series but was peer pressured by an insane fangirl of this series to read it expecting me to love "the twist" and the same characters she does (*cough* Feysand *coughs*). I cut her off for being a generally horrid person over a damn book all because I dared to speak my mind (she threatened physical violence over my honest critique).

I'm a general fantasy reader (think JRR Tolkien, George RR Martin, Brandon Sanderson et al.) and do not like romance books therefore dislike romantasy in general since I am not the target audience for these books. I only "read", by that I meant pirating these books to form my opinion on them, will never buy them since they're rubbish and not worth my money (plus I hate the author for being a shit human being and would never give her my money). It was bleh and I found it painful to read since I've read fanfiction that was written more eloquently than this SJM-produced slop. I always hated bad boys even as a teenage girl and that sentiment still remains as an adult. So imagine how I physically cringed when the love interests were switched.

Getting back on topic to the "pro-side", they were genuinely hateful despite their incessant preaching about "love conquers all" and on multiple occasions loved telling me I should die (classy...) for voicing my honest critique that I didn't like it. What's more, is that the common sentiment of the "pro-side" was to coerce and brainwash me into liking 'le main characters' and how I had 'internalised misogyny' for not liking something I only consider as fairy porn with no substance to keep me engaged lmao

The best part is that I'm not even a shipper of their rival ship Feylin, Tamlin, or Nesta. I am ambivalent towards them at best but I started sympathising with them given that the story made me hate the main characters and their 'Inner Circlejerk of Bougie Faerie Arseholes' that love wanking their 'Dear Dictator Leader: Ricespam' (I'll never spell his name correctly since I hate rapists like him). It also helps that the fans of these 'antagonist characters' are genuinely nice and pleasant people. I'm almost tempted to so say I love Tamlin/Nesta just to rustle the Feysand cultists' jimmies lol

It seems like they only use "feminism" when it's on their side. Not bothering to accept contrasting viewpoints from women such as myself who do not like a book and are within our rights to do so. What's even surprising is that the pro-fandom is overwhelmingly like this. They'd bully you into submission if you don't kowtow to their demands. Having been bullied in my childhood, I can absolutely recognise the same pattern of abuse that I've been inflicted on in the past. Therefore, this produced the inverse effect than the one they had anticipated. I started hating their self-insert Feyre and Ricespam even more. If they weren't so toxic, I would have just remained a general hater but them acting like Jehovah's Witnesses over a shitty book definitely made me spiteful.

All I can say is: I'll never be a fan of these books nor part of the fandom because I consider it mid. But I do enjoy the thoughtful criticism the antis of said fandom provide and will likely continue hating the pro-side of the fandom for being hateful bigots (especially the Feysand shippers, never met a nice one. Not even once).

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 2

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

(Things get a bit angsty here for a bit, but don't worry, it gets back to some of the cracky-goodness!)

After allowing himself to relax for a bit and actually letting his muscles loosen for once, Jason rose from the bath and rinsed himself off under a piping hot and strong shower. He finished the rinse off with a flash of cold water to focus back up and made his way to the vanity where there was basic hotel amenities. He attempted to style his hair and after at least drying it, pulled on the fluffiest robe he has felt since he first moved into the manor all those years ago.

Fuck. The family. The Outlaws...

Jason put his face in both his hands and took a deep breath, then allowed his shoulders to slump as he dragged his hands from his face to his sides. He marched in a lazy manor over to the end of the large bed where he flopped face down. Surprisingly, it wasn't as fluffy as he was expecting and he silently thanked whatever force there was that he wouldn't have to resort to sleeping on the floor or a chair for the familiarity. Though, he turned his head to face the windows, that little reading nook looks like I could easily fall asleep there.

No, stop it. Do I remember the Dimensional Code for home?

Jason contemplated. On one hand, it could be useful, on the other, they could have an entirely different category system here. He spent the next however long trying to remember the dimensional code for his Earth and tracing the swirls of purples and greens out the large windows. A knock startled him.

"Jason? Are you decent?" He stood quickly and pulled the robe tighter together, not quite ready to show his autopsy scars to his soul-owner? A literal goddess? He wasn't quite sure what she was yet.

"Uh, yes, come in, I'm covered." He tried to stand casually next to the bed when he had just been sitting, his hands now in his pockets.

"Hi, so one of my aides figured one thing out about the ritual that is somewhat concerning and also something I probably also should have brought up. Mind if we sit at the window?" She strode in and settled herself with a pillow against the window and waited for him to do the same. Once he was settled, she hesitated for a moment before sighing and looking out the window to the haunting site outside.

"The Infinite Realms has another name, one coined from my Earth." She licked her lips before she spoke again. "It's also known as the Ghost Zone. As the dimension between dimensions, it is also where beings known as ghosts, the Restless Dead, Neverborn, Gods, and all sorts of other beings that thrive off a substance known as ectoplasm reside. As such, I am current Queen Regent of Ghosts." She let him think for a moment before turning to him. "That means I can tell when someone is death-touched." Jason froze. "I didn't mention it before because I know it's super personal, but then my aide figured out that the ritual only worked because of the fact you are and especially since you had spent time here-" She cut herself off as his eyes just bugged out larger with every word that spilled from her lips. "Sorry, I just, I'm death-touched too. I haven't died yet, but I have been around death magic, or radiation, or whatever it is, since before conception. I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know it was deeply traumatic. I can have my healers take a look at your soul and see if it's alright because it kinda radiates a bit how traumatic it was." She bit her lip with one hand raised near her chin.

Jason closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw tight and blowing the air harshly out his nose. He fell back against the window, allowing his head to knock against the glass. It was warm, as though the sunlight was gently shining upon it. "Yeah." He croaked. "Yeah, I died." He said softer. "I was dead for roughly six months." He dipped his head forward to block his face with his bangs. "Crawled outta my own grave." He laughed bitterly. "Spent a while wandering, a while more in a coma." He swallowed tickly. "Got picked up by my dad's vindictive ex and trained for a while to be an assassin." He looked up at her, making eye contact. "She dunked me in this pit of magic shit, we call it a Lazarus pit in my dimension. It cures those near death and kills the healthy. Fixed me up the rest of the way, or at least the scars and issues I had pre-death. I got to keep these." He allowed the top of the robe to fall away, showing the tops of the large y-shaped scar that ran the length of his torso. She gasped, both hands coming to cover her mouth, tears began to form in her eyes. She reached out as if to touch them and stopped herself, her face turning determined.

"I, Jazmine Nightingale, High Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, the Mediator, the Caretaker, and all those other titles." She waved her wrist. "Declare that I will help you however you deem necessary. Whether that be helping your soul, returning you to your dimension, breaking this binding, or whatever. You are currently bound to you, and as such that makes you my responsibilities." She paused in her speech for a moment, thinking. "I mean, you're already technically one of my subjects because I think you qualify as one of the Restless Dead, but we'll figure out your classification when we take you to a healer. For now, it has been a long day. I will have one of my aides come to get your measurements for some clothes, I'm sure we have some around here somewhere that should fit you at least for dinner. The aides can get any style you like and it can be made quickly by the seamstresses we have on staff." At his hesitation she added with a smile, "They work in supernatural means, they will not overwork themselves by making an entire wardrobe in a few hours."

She patted the cushion in front of her and stood. "I will meet you at dinner, it's not formal at all, don't worry about dressing fancy, I'm just still in this getup from 'official queen stuff'" she said with air quotes looking tired. "I'll see you in a bit Jason!"

"Yes, um, your majesty." He stood to bow, the robe making it a bit difficult."

"Just Jazz please, for the love of the Ancients." She said with a pained look on her face.

"Right, sorry," he stammered, straightening, "See you later, Jazz." She smiled softly before leaving him to himself. He smacked his hand to his face groaning at himself before flopping face-first into the bed again. "She's the ruler of the dead and she's so determined and nice, what the actual hell? She's so earnest, it's so cute!" he sat up leaning his elbow on his knee. "Okay, operation Romance Plot is go. She isn't put off by the fact you died, this is good, I can work with this. Okay, so castle, let's go with that aesthetic. I'm thinking let's go with a poet shirt and some black slacks for dinner tonight." He claps his hands in front of him, decision made.

As if summoned by his words, there was another knock at the door. A man with bright sky blue skin and a deep plum butler's uniform opened the door, a measuring tape casually thrown over his shoulders.

"Yes, hello good sir. What aesthetic are we thinking for this evening?" he said in a posh accent.

Jason clasped his hands together. "What should I call you? Would you possibly have a poet's shirt and a pair of black formal slacks for this evening?"

"You may call me Jeeves. Yes that Jeeves. I am the personification of the trope of the helpful butler, and as such my power set includes anything and everything that could help me complete the duties of head butler of the High Family's home. We absolutely do have that attire on hand, it would be but a moment for someone to fetch it for us. Now did you have any ideas about future attire?" Jeeves snapped his fingers and a skeleton manifested in a swirl of dust to obey his silent command to gather the requested clothing.

Jason paused for a moment, considering. "How does the Queen usually dress casually around the castle? I know she said she was from an Earth. I don't know where in the timeline her Earth is from and she mentioned that what she was wearing earlier was mostly for special occasions, so I don't want to look like an idiot." He explained.

"Very good sir, she typically dresses in either a less formal toga if she's to be seen anywhere near the public areas of the castle, her armor whilst sparring with her knights, the High Princes and Princess, and if she is only going between her room and study then her far less formal Earth clothing which is a long sleeved blouse and lightwash jeans, typical of the late 1990's and early 2000's."

Jason thought for a moment. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, but decided that clothes enough to last a fortnight should work. For all he knew, time flowed differently between here and his home dimension. Decision made, he told the butler what he wanted. Measurements were taken, the skeleton arrived with the requested clothes and Jason was left to change into his clothes for the evening. He still is wearing his combat boots because he forgot to ask for a pair of shoes.

Once changed, he realized that he still probably had a bit before dinner and he walked over to one of the bookshelves browsing the titles. There were several classics that he recognized, his favorite, Pride and Prejudice, was there. There were a few as well with Jane Austen's name, but not titles he recognized. He decided to come back to those later and pulled what looked like a collection of fairy tales from the shelf then settled himself lounging in the window nook to read for the next few hours.

[pomefioredove]

Helloo!

Can I have a chocolate cookie, #3 with chestnuts and whipped cream, please?

Hope I'm lucky!🤞😺

ofc!!

order #3, chocolate with chestnuts, whipped cream

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cat scratch fever

summary: the royal heir lays sick in bed. luckily, they have their poet to keep them entertained tropes: sick fic, royalty au characters: che'nya additional info: romantic or platonic, gender neutral reader, reader is not specified to be yuu, not actually cat scratch fever I just liked that as a title

It started, as most disagreeable things do, with a cough.

And then fatigue. And then fever. And then a swelling in your feet and fingers (which finally fell on the second day of treatment).

And now a fourth round of medicine is being forced down your throat by a nursemaid, and no one had been more miserable.

You sputter and spit, the black, bitter substance staining your silken bedsheets. Your mother would have a fit if she saw how you were soiling her nice fabrics.

For fuck's sake. Why would you care? Why does the thought even come to mind? Your parents haven't even visited you.

It's been... weeks, perhaps. Of this pitiful sickness.

You're the only child- the heir. If you die, one of your many uncles or cousins or second-cousins or third-cousins will take the throne in your stead. There will be war, of course.

Your survival is political. Not personal.

"Feeling better?" a maid you've never met asks, drawing the curtains to drag in the morning.

You shield your eyes from the oppressive sun and pout.

"I've run out of things to read,"

"Have you? I could have sworn that Marian brought in a stack of books just yesterday,"

"All of them," you say. "I've read all of them. No one will speak to me, so how else should I keep myself entertained?"

The maid hums, mulling over the thought while she tidies your room (not that there's much to tidy- you haven't been out of bed in days). And then she snaps her fingers.

"The poet. I'll send for him,"

You groan, sliding back into bed, as if your blankets might shield you from your boring fate. "Please, not him. I don't know if i could bear it. He's so strange!"

"Nonsense, he'll keep you company, and he'll speak to you for hours,"

And that's exactly what you're dreading.

"How doth the little crocodile-"

"I've heard this one. You just recited it ten minutes ago!"

"-improve his shining tail?"

You moan, as if in some pathetic amount of pain, and you almost throw your pillow at him. "You're not even listening!"

Che'nya's eyes sparkle, the slitted pupils practically pouncing on you, devouring your delicate state. He takes too much pleasure in having you bedbound- you have no choice but to listen to him, here.

"I am," he says, poking your cheek. "I just don't think you understood it the first time. Let's try again."

"How presumptuous," you grumble. "Tell me something else. I am the dying one here, you know. I don't have the time."

"You can't have time, silly. Is it in your pants-pocket? Your armoire?"

"Tell me something else,"

He ponders on that, cradling his chin in his palm. His catlike eyes carry over your shivering, pitiful form. "Mm... you do remind me of a story of a certain girl..."

Your eyes widen. "Yes?"

"...But I don't think you'd care to hear that one. How about the man who stood on his head?"

"NO!" you throw your pillow at him, and he parries it with infuriating ease.

"How about the one about the walrus and carpenter?"

"Not that, either. I want the one about the girl,"

"Or the bat?"

"I want the story about the girl,"

"My, you are so picky!" Che'nya smiles. "However am I supposed to know what you want? I can't read your mind, you know."

You're not so sure about that. You sigh, slumping in bed like you had already died.

Che'nya relents. "Well, it's not as catchy as the bat, but I suppose it'll do. There was once a girl,"

You sit up in bed and nod. "Yes?"

"Who drank this dreadfully curious concoction,"

"Yes, yes?"

"-Which she really not ought have, mind you. One shouldn't go tasting things one hasn't introduced themselves to,"

"What happened to the girl?"

"She shrank,"

"She shrank?"

"To the height of a hairpin! Miserable, she was, all sick and small, to top it off,"

You furrow your brow. "Well, how did she grow back?"

"Pardon? Grow back?"

"She got better, didn't she? How did she grow back?"

"Oh, never, never!" Che'nya cries, grabbing his chest as if his heart couldn't handle the thought. "She stayed small for-ever. She floated on the open sea in a glass bottle until the end of her days."

"What!" you cry, propelling another goose-feather pillow at his face. He parries it this time, too.

"What? I told you the story. Let's recite the alphabet backwards,"

"That can't be the end," you say, finding the strength to fall out of bed and fumble yourself over to his stool. "She must have found a way to get better. Didn't she?"

Che'nya makes no attempt to help you keep your footing, preoccupied with thought (as he so often is), and you fall across his lap.

"...Hm... well, hm... yes, it's coming back to me now,"

"What is it?"

"She rested, and then... Well, when someone shrinks- the only way to grow is to eat,"

"Eat? Eat what?"

"Oh, anything wonderish. Biscuits, mushrooms, tree bark, tea leaves, butter, sugar, lemon, tree bark-"

"Something strange? But wouldn't that poison you?"

Che'nya taps the tip of your nose and then finds your waist, finally lifting you to your feet. "But was it not poison that shrunk her in the first place?"

He carries you to your sickbed, tucking you back under the covers and fluffing your pillows for comfort, with such a delicate touch that you might have forgotten about the story altogether.

"Was it?" you yawn, tired from your tumble out of bed and bored of the arguing.

Che'nya smiles. "Perhaps another curious little thing ought to be careful about what they drink, too... I suppose I should sit on your head like a hat and warn you of these things,"

"Yeah... maybe,"

Vague as ever. He kisses your skin, salty as if you had been floating on the open sea, too. "Sleep well. I'll have biscuits and mushrooms for you by morning,"

[beneathsilverstars]

i love to explain my opinions so here's my actual drinking headcanons

siffrin - doesn't seem to get tipsy. he mostly just gets less anxious, which means he's less worried about saying the wrong thing but also less concerned with pushing himself to talk, so he's basically behaving the same way and just having different emotions about it! they appear perfectly stone-cold sober until they eventually suddenly hit drunk drunk and now they're liable to fall flat on their face and not remember it the next morning. takes a while to get there though, they may be small but they're also prone to alcoholism. (drinking to self-medicate mental illness is not a good idea, everyone.)

mirabelle - thinks beer smells nasty; wine's better, but grape juice is one of the worst fruit juices to begin with so eh. she'll have a hard cider on occasion or a fruity mixed drink, but only one and maybe not even the whole thing. she doesn't like feeling weird and she gets worried about acting weird!

isabeau - gets tipsy on half a mixed drink and then gets steadily more drunk from there. historically hasn't gone past two drinks in a row for fear of messing up his himbo persona, though he metabolizes it fast enough that if he's staying out late he can have another drink or two. being drunk turns isabeau into even more of a clown; he wants to have fun and he wants everyone else to have fun and more importantly he wants them to like him!! he'll fetch the next round, tip generously, share his food, join unwise schemes just because someone asked him to and pointing out the risks would make him seem like a square, etc.

odile - would drink vodka straight out of the bottle and get reckless as a youth. good thing cars don't exist! she no longer believes that she's too smart to make stupid decisions, but she still likes to cut loose with a couple shots, which she's very consistent about: she knows exactly how much alcohol will get her pleasantly buzzed without leading to a hangover. she's a lot more open and social when she's drunk. she's happy enough with her usual dry humor and too-old-for-this attitude, but sometimes it's nice to have an excuse to get uncharacteristically silly and dramatic for an evening instead!

pétronille: doesn't drink. she says it's because she has too many responsibilities, but she doesn't like to be around drunk people, either.

euphrasie: likes wine. she might have a glass or two to unwind after a long day, or pop open a nice vintage on a special occasion. she's willing to try other drinks, but she already knows what she likes the best and she's definitely not looking to get wasted. being too impaired makes it hard to do all the things she wants to do! she's more affectionate when she's tipsy, which is saying something because she's already quite enthusiastic and loving and touchy.

claude: prefers other substances, but isn't opposed to drinking. she's not picky about what the drink is, though she likes to try weird mixed drinks and euphrasie's wines and homemade brews. she doesn't see the point of having one or two drinks; if she's having more than a sip then she's getting blasted. she isn't a very inhibited person anyway, so she's not very different while drunk, just even louder and more distractible.

loop: can't get drunk because they can't consume anything. if they could, and weren't pulled into the party by siffrin immediately post-canon, they'd be physically dependent on alcohol within a month.

[copdog1234]

Man, I was watching the movie and the entire time I was thinking "Wow. This would've been so much more satisfying in the show" because the show has earned it. The show's writing is far from perfect, it has many, many flaws, but my god is it far better than Miraculous Awakening will ever be. And I'll tell you why.

I will preface by saying, yes, an hour and a half movie has way less time than a TV show with several episodes to build up characters and relationships, so time constraints will make it so we may not get as much depth in the on-screen relationships.

You know what, though? The time they spent playing mediocre songs could've been used better to show us all the things the songs had to outright tell us. Cause that was the problem.

The movie sure liked telling us how the characters were feeling. It rarely showed it. Like could you tell me why movie Marinette liked Adrien? Because I couldn't. What did he do to earn her affection beside look pretty? Why did we only get a montage of them getting closer instead of actually seeing it? Or how we never really see much of Gabriel and Adrien's struggles with the loss of Emilie, we simply get glimpses. How am I supposed to feel anything when Gabriel stops being Hawk Moth when this movie showed us literally nothing of their strained relationship? And then there's Gabriel's claim that he did absolutely everything to get Emilie back. No he didn't. He did actually nothing. He freed a couple of criminals and then akumatized himself. That's it. That's all he did.

Could you tell me why Alya decided to befriend Marinette? Could you tell me why Adrien "who decided not to get close to anyone" was friends with Nino? Could you tell me why Chloe was so confident Adrien had any interest in her when they never actually interacted?

And then there wasnt enough explanation on how anything that we should've been told worked. Could anyone really tell me how these versions of the miraculous work? Or why Master Fu was in possession of them? Or why they really chose their holders? Could you tell me if the kwami had much personality and were necessary?

Like, I will say, there were funny moments, the animation was nice, and there were cool set pieces, but where was the substance?? It was nonexistent. If you don't watch the show, would you know or feel anything for what was going on in this movie?

Cause even for me, who does watch the show, I didn't.

Think about this. The show has even faked out multiple reveals to me and every time I was hyped and screaming, I have read fanfiction of these same to characters falling in love and confessing every which way and I've swooned, but we get reveals and love confessions that are real and permanent in this movie and I felt. Nothing.

It's okay if yall disagree with me, but I just needed to get this off my chest. I'm hard on this movie because I wanted it to be good because I love the characters and story from the show.

[scoobydoodean]

Hello<3

I was wondering if you had any thoughts on how fandom misconstrues Dean's relationship with alcohol?

There is so much emphasis on making him out to be a violent mean drunk, but I mostly remember that he drinks and like passes out when he's grieving or stressed (iirc) (s6 PTSD, Soulless sam, when Cas dies, etc.)? It's weird to me because Dean isn't the only character to go through this. Bobby relies on drinking too. He's exactly as gruff as Dean can be. He also had an abusive father. Yet I don't usually see people judging Bobby for that (if they exist, I haven't seen them at least thank God).

I get frustrated when people say things like the MoC was a direct metaphor for alcoholism just because it made Dean sooo violent and angry, etc. And, it's like an unrealistic understanding of alcoholism irl and also of Dean himself and his actual actions and context. I just get weirdly defensive of him over it lol.

If you've already hashed this out I'm sry! At the end of the day, it's all just interpretation ig, but I wanted to know your take on it cause ik you'd look at dean with a good faith lens.

<3

One could say I have had thoughts on how fandom misconstrues Dean's relationship with alcohol. One could even say I have spawned extremely funny multi-day fandom-wide disk horses on this subject simply by giving my opinion on my own blog when an anon asked me to.

I'm tracking Dean's relationship with alcohol (and other substances bc I was too lazy to make two separate tags) through #dean and drugs during my rewatch if you care to peruse, but I think you and I are of a similar mind on this.

Prior to season 4, Dean has a very average relationship with alcohol. In season 4, Dean starts using alcohol as a coping tool to help him fall asleep because he's having nightmares about hell. By season 6, alcohol is also a coping tool for depression and stress. He drinks to deal with nightmares, he drinks to cope with hell trauma, he drinks after soulless Sam watches his sexual assault with a smile, he drinks after Cas swallows all the souls and Death blames Dean for everything, he drinks throughout season 7 to cope with Cas's death and Bobby's death. I'm up to 8.01 and have yet to see a single occasion where Dean drinking and Dean being violent co-occurred. What I do see is Dean drinking when he is sad, alone, or scared.

I'll continue tracking—I'll eventually get back into the MoC arc where Dean is drinking heavily again, and obviously Dean + drinking + anger + violence are all going to happen at the same time in MoC seasons. However, correlation does not equal causation, and while someone can choose to believe that Dean's drinking causes him to be angry, I think the literal answer in season 9/10 is that Dean's been cursed by the father of murder, and on a more metaphorical level, the Mark of Cain quite overtly represents Dean's resentment toward Sam which Carver spends his entire run laying out in great detail. This is why the whole Carver run culminates in Amara (a Dean parallel) being unleashed to take revenge on her brother, and why the MoC is a brother murderer curse to begin with. Alcohol is set dressing. It shows us—just as it did in the past—that Dean feels sad, alone, and scared (in this case, of what the MoC could lead him to do—which also isn't dissimilar from the original reason Dean started drinking—after hell to cope with the trauma of not just being tortured but torturing others—the fear that he'd been made into a monster).

Looking at the matter holistically, I don't personally see Dean as an angry drunk. I see him as a sad drunk. If anything, I think he hopes that alcohol will drown his anger and violent urges in the MoC arc, or at least slow him down, while also being the traditional tool he uses during boughts of depression (which he is very much experiencing during the MoC arc to the point of suicide). I also think outside the outlier of season 9/10, the narrative supports sad drunk Dean far better than angry drunk Dean.

[flythesail]

The revolution aspect is so well done, but unfortunately, I just don't think Andor does a great job with its main characters. I would say Mon is the strongest character in that we know her personal life and see her as a catalyst with a direct influence on the plot. But as a senator, she's also inseparable from the plot in a way the other characters are not. I feel like they don't even know what to do with Cassian, Bix, or Vel. Which is just crazy to me because it seems so... simple?

Cassian is the guy committed to the rebellion. (Lol.) Give him an assignment and send him on a mission. Or, Bix is a mechanic. Give her something to fix. I believe this ties into something like Cinta's death as well. It felt insignificant. Which, I recognize as their intention. In a rebellion, lots of people die and won't be remembered.

But Rogue One struck a stronger balance between "these characters are nobodies to the rest of the galaxy" but somebody within the story being told. This is also why I don't love the choice to have someone else coin the phrase, "Rebellions are built on hope." Again, I get their point - the unknown people have a known impact. But after watching Cassian be sidelined and mischaracterized in his own show, it feels like one more thing being taken that always felt like his.

Thus far, Syril's death felt the strongest to me. There was plenty of buildup and development for his character prior. And maybe unsurprisingly? He was closely linked to the plot too. Much more than Cinta, who they barely bothered to put on screen this season. Even in killing Cinta to further Vel's storyline (a very poor choice - that's fridging), they've done nothing with Vel since. The plot is so much more impactful when equal effort is put into writing the characters. That's why Mon's speech and her mad dash from Coruscant was effective. In my opinion, it was the best part and arc of the season.

So I'm really not sure what they're getting at with a storyline like Bix and Cassian's. What is the takeaway? That he doesn't want to be a part of the rebellion. Groundbreaking stuff. It doesn't match Rogue One and feels sexist to use Bix as the woman who "turns Cassian into the man he was destined to be" when she's seen quite a bit of trauma and has a known skillset herself that could have resulted in an actual storyline of substance.

From the jungle oasis house to Bix waiting around like she can't even do anything without Cassian present, it's like... it doesn't even match the rest of the show - which is what, a political/spy thriller? For a show that prides itself in diving into the finer details of rebellion and the rough reality of it, there's no room for this little fancy house just outside of the rebel base where they're fighting an actual war. Reality versus impossible fantasy. Even if that is the point, that doesn't negate the fact it is so poorly written. Making Cassian the snarky, reluctant rebel who won't take an order has ruined any continuity coming into Rogue One for his characterization. Hey Tony Gilroy, haven't you heard he's been in the fight since he was six years old? The fix is so simple I could scream. Place these characters in the actual plot. The foundation was laid in season 1. Let them work.

[bloodchapell]

raven — senku i.

brief summary: just goth!reader x senku

what to expect: goth reader, all lowercase, i have no idea what i am talking about chemistry wise but have actual sources, modern au

your sword's note: i keep seeing in tiktok someone ship kohaku and hyoga so this goes for them lmaoao, also i love kirisame so much that i will write for her in this same au, more on my mistresslist

beside you, senku was mixing chemicals that weren't even provided by the class, he just brought his own. you noticed that his free strands of hair kept falling on his face and he almost dissolved them twice already.

"here." you took a bat hairpin from your hair and secured the strands so they didn't fly free. he thanked you and keeps his eyes fixed on the glass on his hands.

since he was assigned to be your lab partner, he keeps looking at your makeup and appearance in general in awe, but he hasn't said anything. at least he didn't have to be partners with taiju, but he is not sure how much of an upgrade that is, at least he could chitchat with his friend before.

"did you balance the equation already?" you ask and he shakes his head. you slide your notebook to his side and he sees a clean bunch of notes in your script that looks out of a victorian newspaper and at the end the correct answer. he looks baffled.

"are you secretly a nerd or something?" he asks and you shake your head, your v shaped bangs only moving slightly.

"no, i am openly one." you say leaning close to him just to spooke him. he laughs.

"then see yourself to this." he writes down something in your notebook and you look at it for a moment.

"this is a polar covalent bond." you tell him and he nods. he explains that it is the formula for the bunch of chemicals he is mixing. "so sulfur dioxide."

soon he is talking about chemistry and you agree to what you know and pay attention to what you don't. he asks you if you like chemistry and you nod, telling him that you might major in chemistry later on.

"are you trying to outdo the teacher somehow?" you whisper but he didn't answer, at least not verbally. the erlenmeyer flask on his hand erupting in some unknown substance that immediately expelled a smell, the smell of a match that was just struck. by that point in his career, the teacher has given up when senku outdo's him in his own class.

"you should join the science club." he mentions casually and you deny.

"i would, but i have other activities." you say taking the lab coat off once the class is over, organizing your hair and your necklace with a ruby that you always seem to wear, he keeps it on.

"what activities can be more exciting than science?"

"banging some drums." you say. senku notices that when you talk you move your hands a lot. he likes it. "i am in a band."

for some reason unknown to both of you, he keeps trying to bribe you into joining the science club, and finally suggests to attend one of your presentations in exchange for you checking out if you like the club. you laughed, being well aware of his eccentric personality even when you knew him from a short time.

"whatever, but hey, you won't like it." you shrug warning him in advance but he is determined.

during lunch, senku learns from taiju that you are friends with him and yuzuriha. taiju narrates how he and yuzuriha had seen you being "bullied" by some girls and they were going to step in to help you until they noticed you slipping a few mints from your bag on the soda you had just bought and bathing the girls with the explosion. taiju says that you remind him of senku somehow.

after school, you pass by the lab, keeping your promise.

“i actually hate our school uniform so much, the coat helps.” you mention when senku passes a lab coat to you.

“tie your hair, you don’t want it dissolving.” senku points to the bat hairpin that is still securing his strands and you smile at him. you tie your hair loosely. he is doing some unknown experiment like always and you pay attention to him with a lot of interest. “so what kind of music does your band play?”

“deathrock, occasionally hardcore.” you say giving him a beaker full of a mysterious liquid when he points at it. you didn't expect him to know what it is, and he doesn't. "what deadly experiment are you making now?"

"crystal candy." he takes out a little skewer from one of the glass dishes.

"woah, senku white." you clap and he shakes his head laughing.

"crystal candy, not crystal meth." he gives you one of the candies and you eat it. "ravens like shiny things, so i figured i might do this."

"raven is a compliment, you know?"

"10 billion percent i do."

you can't help but laugh. after hanging out a little more in the lab, you tell him you have to leave for practice and he says he might as well walk with you. during the walk, inevitably you ask him about his hair and he doesn't have any answers for you.

"i like putting my hair up." you say playing with your hair while walking outside of school. senku laughs and helps you putting it up but it doesn't stay up for long so you resort to organizing it back down. once you are at the door of the studio, you take out a sticky note, write on it and place it in his chest. "text me, don't be boring."

he does, and you reply once you are out of practice. you text each other all night, and the next day at school you spend lunch together. the conversation oscillates around chemistry, but he eventually asks about you.

"bela lugosi's dead by bauhaus is said to be the first gothic song ever." you mention after a quick rundown of goth history.

"who is bela lugosi?"

"no way... oh my god no wayyyyy." a clear reference to south park's michael that he doesn't get either. so after school you drag him with you. your house is odd looking, that is the first thing he notices, you tell him that is a brutalist construction of your mother's design as an architect and construction by your dad as an engineer. upon entering, you guide him to the basement where your room is. beside the clear decorations that account for a beyond-the-grave vibe, his eyes focus on the drum set on a corner. "we are watching 1931's dracula."

you turn off the lights and sit on the floor, playing the movie on the projector. senku sits beside you and watches the movie, paying attention to your annotations on the film. after watching the movie, you continue explaining the relevance of bela lugosi.

"so how did you become goth?" he asks and you can't help but laugh, you look through some papers on a drawer and take out a picture, a man and a woman pose with a familiar spooky face.

"my parents." you tap on the paper. "authentic trad goths."

"hereditary, i see." his remark makes you laugh. as he gives you the photograph back, he scans the books in the shelf, a lot of poe, shelly, lovecraft, those accompanied by books on chemistry and science fiction, and besides the books there are little jars with wet specimens and some bones. "what about those odd things there?"

"oh i made those." walking over to the shelf you pick a random one and hand it to him. "put the specimen on the jar, put some formaldehyde for about a week and then change it for isopropyl alcohol and it has been laying there since."

"is this like a casual hobby?" he asked taking a look at the jar.

"casual but safe." you pointed to the respirator mask on the floor. he nodded in approval.

he stayed around the rest of the day and you talked about anything and everything, going over what field of chemistry you prefer and his questions about the goth subculture. when it gets dark and the little window of the basement doesn't let in more light, you light up red candles and keep talking until someone barges in your room.

"i made some carrot cake, will you have some?" your father asks and you both turn around to look at him. senku immediately compared him in his mind to the picture you showed him earlier, but now the man looked like a regular adult. "well well, look what the bat brought."

"dad you are ruining my life!" you groan in annoyance and he leaves, only to come back with two slices of carrot cake.

"so what is your name? what are your intentions?" your dad sat in the floor besides the two of you and smiled through his questions. you hide your face in your arms but senku replies with his name, before he can say you are simply friends, your dad chimes in again. "ishigami like byakuya ishigami?"

"yes, that's my old man."

"what a surprise! mom and i went to school with him, you hear that my little egregore? we actually despised him because he was so cheerful but i secretly wanted to be his friend."

despite your embarrassment, you can't help but smile when you hear senku laughing, agreeing that it sounds like his dad. they talk some more agreeing that whenever byakuya is back from space, they can meet to catch up.

senku left your house once the clock hit 9, but once he is home you two keep texting. he doesn't want to admit it but he feels fascinated about you, not only out of fellowship for the shared love for chemistry but also out of his curiosity for your personality and appearance.

the next day goes like usual, you meet during chemistry class and like always senku outdoes the teacher. you pass by the lab during lunch and scare him after checking that he isn't holding some dangerous substance on a beaker.

"guess what?" you ask and he shrugs without any idea, so you pass him a paper with your approved application for the science club.

"this is excellent news, a competent addition to this madhouse." he smiles pleased and quickly you both get to tinkering with the equipment. "i am working on this gasoline I made out of plastic."

"did you desulfurize it?" you ask and he shakes his head, his heart skipping a beat at the chemical question. "for the sweetening we need wash the naphtha with amine, it needs to be low-boiling, then make it react with caustic. the first thing removes the hydrogen sulphide and the second helps with converting mercaptans to disulfide."

"exactly that." senku nods reaching for the beaker full of gasoline and the other one full of amine. "the hydrotreating part will be more challenging but we can take care of that later on."

you two get to work, he passed you a lab coat and after putting it on you tie your hair. he put the naphtha to boil at a low temperature and then had you wash it with the amine. the rest of the club members watch. it is a slow and delicate process, but you are done before the bell rings and you celebrate happily before returning to class.

after a few weeks of you going to the lab during lunch and after school, you leave when the classes are over. senku immediately notices, and despite the mockery of the fellow members of the club at his fussiness over your absence and his denial of even caring or even knowing who you are at that —exaggerated king—, he still sneaks out to the hallway and texts you.

raven: i am rehearsing silly, we have a show on saturday. 4:09pm

he sighed and walked back in the lab. he had forgotten about it even when you kept talking about the show your band was about to have. he made a reminder in his phone, and went back to work. during that week you didn't stay after school in the lab and he started to notice the lack of your presence, missing even the scares you would make sure to give him when walking in.

"are you nervous?" senku asked, saturday morning, sitting in the floor of your room while you did your makeup in the vanity.

"not that much, i am all the way in the back, privileges of being the drummer." you shrugged while drawing your eyeliner. out of all the outfits he had seen you wear, and your own goth rendition of the school uniform, that one was the ultimate, and made you look like a villain from a video game; he couldn't take his eyes away. senku kept evaluating your appearance, from your makeup that you were still doing, to your hair now puffed and teased, to your tall black boots.

"ruri and kirisame are here." your mom announced before letting the girls in. while one looked just as villainous as you, the other one was a blonde angel dressed all in white.

"these are my bandmates, ruri is the keyboardist and vocalist and kirisame is the guitarist. our bassist will be there on his own." you introduced them.

senku greeted both girls, while ruri waved happily, kirisame simply nodded and ignored the rest. once you are done with your makeup, your mom brings some food you all eat. you go over the songs and things about the band and senku simply listens, not knowing the terms you are using but inferring what they are about. and finally after some time, your parents call you to go to the car. senku noticed that both of your parents had switched to look more like the photo of them young so he asked to take a picture to show to his dad.

the venue was half empty when you arrived, only the other members of the bands and some people. you set the drum set, ruri tested the mic and kirisame adjusted her amp. senku watched how your parents took out a professional camera and snapped a few photos.

"so why are you here?" a voice distracted him, he turned around to see a guy his age sitting besides him. "you don't look like you belong here either."

"just a deal. you?" senku asked.

"my girlfriend is the vocalist. my name is chrome." proudly he said.

while everything was being set up, chrome told senku all the details. you knew ruri from music lessons and you two formed the band, she introduced the bassist, hyoga, who is her sister kohaku's boyfriend, and kirisame came from craigslist. eventually they ended up talking about minerals, but the show started. when chrome told senku to go to the front so they could see better, was when he realized how full the place was. the other band played first, so you stood besides senku, chrome and your bandmates, who aside from hyoga —who already got there—, were dancing to the music; you joined them in due time, swaying your arms in the air at the rhythm of the music.

"we are better than them." you whispered to senku between songs and he laughed immediately.

once their set was over, your band started. curiously, senku recognized the first song to be a cover of in darkness you will feel alright by horror vacui —despite his regular nonchalance, he noted down both genres you told him and checked some bands out, just so he wasn't completely clueless—, so recognizing the song made him feel good. the next songs were originals, and despite that the public enjoyed them just as much, dancing in the same odd way. senku's gaze, though, remained fixed on you, on the way you played the drums and how your head moved to the beat you were playing, the focused expression and the precise movements at hitting the drums.

"so?" you asked holding the rundown drumsticks in your hands once your set was over.

"that was really good, i am impressed." senku praised in an understatement. you smiled and he smiled back.

the next band played and at some point you grabbed senku's hands and made him dance, he frowned but didn't push you away, secretly enjoying it and realizing that ruri was doing the same with chrome who tried his best to dance but couldn't quite do it.

...

byakuya came back from space, and then came back from the u.s. senku refused to pick him up from the airport and you called him heartless. it was during the weekend so you were over at senku's house helping him in his latest project. he initially had also invited taiju and yuzuriha but since the confession by the tree they would have a date every sunday so they couldn't come.

"is anyone homeee!?" a voice broke in between the noises of senku's rant on his rocket, after a few seconds, the door opened and both of you looked up to see the man. you stood up to greet him, senku avoided his hug but he seemed really happy. "hello, and... you are?"

senku introduced you, not failing to pull up the photo he took of your parents and mentioning who they were.

"is like being back at school!" the man exclaimed. "what a time."

senku and byakuya caught up for a good while. after a some hours and eating lunch, at byakuya's odd enthusiasm and your confirmation that your parents were home, you all went to your house.

"if it is not the class clown!" your dad exclaimed once the door opened, byakuya seeming equally excited. they started talking immediately, your mom joining. senku and you stood listening to the stories of your parents and their school time for a little but got bored and left downstairs.

lately you had tried to teach senku how to play the drums but he was too bad at it so you both gave up, so instead you sat on the floor and started listening to music while talking about your childhoods, senku starting with his fascination for science and you with yours for the obscure and odd.

"i am skipping school on wednesday to go to a concert, let's go together." you suggested and senku agreed. on monday and tuesday you both worked in the lab, finishing hydrotreating the gasoline so it could be fuel to the rocket, and on wednesday, instead of going to school, senku walked to your house in the morning. he rang the bell but no one opened, so he rang again and after some time you opened the door, still in your pajamas, your hair messy but not in the usual way.

"i thought we were going to the concert."

"yes but later." you laughed and let him in. clearly you were still sleeping so you organized your room a little and cooked some breakfast, after eating you walked back to your room and he followed, sitting on the bed since the weather was getting colder as fall started, he sat besides you and you put a movie. at some point you were going to pause the movie to explain something to him, but when looking for the controller your hand brushed his. immediately your eyes met and then turned to look away. "well the chemistry is around..."

your joke broke the awkwardness and he laughed immediately. you explained your point and played the movie, not speaking about it, knowing there was no white foundation covering your blush.

the morning was slow, but eventually you started getting ready.

"can i put makeup on you?" suddenly you asked, halfway through your own makeup.

"no, i am perfect like this." his response made you laugh, but you asked again and he gave in, so you stood up from the vanity with a black eyeliner, walking over to your bed where he was sitting looking at his phone, you grabbed his face and tilted it upwards, ready to put some eyeliner under his eyes but you kept looking at his intense crimson gaze, and instead leaned in for a kiss, it was quick and you backed up fast.

"sorry..." you apologized turning around but he grabbed your wrist.

"i thought the lipstick was the last step." senku mentioned, having seen you do your makeup in an order that left the lips for the end. he turned you around. "what? my eyes reminded you of some shiny stone like this one?" he grabbed your necklace, but you stayed silent and wide-eyed, so he stood up and methodically pulled you in for another quick kiss.

"well i somehow expected it." you smile sheepishly still holding the eyeliner.

"ravens are very smart birds." senku shrugged and sat back as if nothing happened, and you sigh shaking your head happy and clean his black-stained lips with a wipe and apply some eyeliner under his eyes, like nothing happened too.

[nakylvr]

would anyone like dealer dani angst/fluff...

like i keep thinking about dani having a bad high from all of the stress with being in jail and having to start all over so ofc she's going to smoke weed to feel more relaxed but sadly it doesn't go well and having to help her through her high ☹️

my shayla ☹️ this is so ☹️☹️

— troubled waters

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, f!reader, dealer!dani au, language, drug usage (marijuana), arguments, happy ending yay

part of the substance series

in the nearly three years you've been dating daniela, there were only a few times where she would have a bad high. she would usually just get paranoid about random things which left you picking up the pieces to ensure that she doesn't do something stupid or maybe say the wrong thing.

then there was this time.

barely a month after everything went down, and things were starting to feel a little normal now. it was going to be a slow process, you knew that. it would take time for things to be fully back to normal. but this was the last thing you expected to happen.

you made dani lay low for the month, not doing any deals or anything related to the sort while everything dies down, and you could tell she wasn't happy about it. she tried to argue with you, but you gave her a look that told her how serious you were and she reluctantly agreed to it. which meant she was stuck in the house even more than she normally would be. you thought it would be fine considering she rarely leaves the place anyways. apparently you were wrong.

you texted dani that you were on your way home from work, asking if she needed anything while you were driving, and you received no response. while this wasn't exactly odd, it wasn't normal either. if she was asleep she would wake up because you're notifications sounds were different than everyone else's. you tried not to think too much on it, just driving home and unconsciously preparing for what you might walk into.

you should've been more prepared.

the second you walk through the front door you're met with the smell of smoke, which would be normal if it weren't for the burning smell along with it. you walk past the living room straight to the bedroom, opening the door and seeing her.

"dani," you say, but she doesn't look up. you can see the beer bottles along with half smoked blunts across the bedding, and you have to bite your tongue to keep you from instantly snapping at ruining the bedding. you take a step closer, then spotting the actually lit blunt burning into the sheet. "daniela!" you say more sternly, grabbing her hand and taking the blunt from her, quickly putting it out in the ashtray.

daniela finally looks at you now. and when you look into her eyes, your breath hitches. red and glossy, but filled with more emotion than she could explain.

"dani?" you let out softly.

"am i a bad person?" is the first words that leave her mouth.

"what?" you question.

"i'm not." she shakes her head. "i'm not a good person."

"dani, what are you talking about?" your hands reach for her face but she grabs them and moves them away, a pang of hurt going through you at the action.

"you don't deserve me," she mumbles. "i don't deserve you."

"daniela, what are you saying?" you ask, trying to remain calm and collected.

"why didn't you leave me in there?" her eyes meet yours, and you swear your heart stops for a second. "why?"

"because i love you," you immediately respond. "i wouldn't do that for just anybody."

"not megan?"

"dani." your voice lowers an octave, already seeing where she was going with this. "don't start that."

"start what?" daniela suddenly gets off the bed, standing in front of you. "start saying the shit i want to say?"

taking a deep breath, you manage to keep yourself from snapping. "you're drunk and probably higher than you should be. you don't know what you're say–"

"i know what i'm saying!" daniela interrupts you. "i know what i am saying!" you subconsciously flinch when her voice raises, but she doesn't seem to notice. "i don't deserve someone like you. you shouldn't be with me of all people. i-i'm not a good person. i-i don't do anything good. you should've left me. you should've stayed with sophia or someone else just not me."

your body tenses up when she mentions sophia. you know sober she knows better than to speak of her, but with the alcohol and weed mixed in her system she's spilling it all out. "you know sophia wasn't good to me, dani," you say to her. "you're a good person, daniela."

"what do i do for a living, yn?" she looks at you expectantly. "i sell people weed. that's my lame fuckass job! yo-you have a real job! you work in an office! you have people under you! you have people who respect you! you can call out and still get money that day! meanwhile i haven't done shit for a month and now we're barely making rent money!"

"i am doing my best and you know that," you tell her, pointing at her. "i worked my ass off to get this job. i'm working my ass off keeping our house while you lay low like i told you to. you can go back to it in a few weeks, that's what i told you. i didn't say you had to."

"obviously i have to!" daniela throws her hands around in the air. "if i don't listen to you god knows what will happen!"

"what is that supposed to mean?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"it means i'm not your fucking puppy like you treat megan," daniela tells you.

"excuse me?" you let out surprised.

"i mean–"

"think very carefully before you say your next words, daniela," you cut her off sternly, losing your patience by the second. "don't say something stupid."

"you think you can tell me everything. what i can do, what i can't do, what i shouldn't do, what i have to do. everything!" she exclaims. "i'm done listening to you!"

you take another deep breath, your fingers twitching showing you were close to snapping. "look, daniela. i never said you had to listen to me, you just did. you always have. do not put that on me when i have never once told you to do anything and made you do it. you–"

"just listen and do! i know!" daniela yells. "i do because i'm scared you'll leave if i don't!"

a moment of silence passes before she continues. "i fucked up so fucking bad that i ended up in jail and you ended up traumatized because i didn't even hear you out! i listen because i'm too stupid to figure out anything myself! i-i can't remember the last time i did my own taxes, or even the last time i double checked the income because you help me. you help me with everything and i appreciate that so much but fuck i feel so useless." her voice cracks and she balls her hands into fists, covering her eyes that were furiously tearing up. "i-i feel like i can't do anything anymore, or i fuck it up when i try. and i don't want to fuck up what i have with you. i love y-you so fucking much a-and i'm fucking terrified of screwing up again and you l-leave." the tears start rolling down her cheeks, her breaths coming out shallow and short. "i don't know wh-what i'd do without you."

your gaze softens when she starts rambling, and you uncross your arms and take a few steps towards her. hesitantly, you reach out and grab her arm, pulling her into your arms and holding her tightly. she tries to push you away, murmuring "let go" under her breath, but your arms tighten around her, keeping her close to you.

"it's okay, you're okay," you mumble as she cries into your chest. "everything's okay, i promise. nothing's going to happen. i'm not going anywhere." you press a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "i love you so much, i'm staying right here. i promise."

daniela's body trembles with the sobs wracking through her, her arms finally wrapping around you and allowing herself to feel vulnerable for once in her life. "i'm s-sorry for ev-everything."

"don't do that." you shake your head. "you don't have to apologize, i'm not mad. i promise." you kiss her head again. "everything is okay."

she still mumbles incoherent words that you can't understand past her cries, but you can get a gist of what she's saying through the sobs. you keep her close to you, feeling your shirt getting progressively more damp with her tears, but you didn't mind.

you were unsure how long it had been of her crying before she went quiet, her head still pressing against your chest trying to calm her breathing back down. her fingers were curled around the material of your shirt, loosening slightly as she finally calms down.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, running your hand through her hair.

"yeah," she mumbles with a nod, pulling her head away and looking at you. "i'm sorry. i didn't think–"

"it's okay," you interject, shaking your head. "everyone has bad highs once in a while, and you drinking doesn't help. but it's okay."

"i didn't mean it," her voice cracks, and you can see the tears building again at her realizing what she said. "i'm so sorry."

"hey, hey." you move your hands to cup her face, wiping away the few stray tears with your thumbs. "it's okay. i know you're–we're still going through everything, but we're together in this, okay? the two of us, like it's always been. it's still us. nothing else matters. i love you so much, and i don't want to lose you if this happens again. you are a good person, daniela. even if you don't think it, i do. i love you, and only you. forever."

daniela's bottom lip trembles as you speak, a choked sob escaping her mouth and she nods. "i love you too," she whispers. "i love you so much."

"i know." you smile softly at her. "but you're gonna have to pay for the new bedding, okay? i spent too much on this last one."

"okay." she nods again. "you'll help me pick it out, right?"

"of course," you respond. "i know you wouldn't pick a good color."

"rude," she laughs.

"you love me." your smile grows bigger.

"i do." she smiles back.

[afurtivecake]

ok I'm going to have to defend Abby here. I know there is an argument that Abby should have known better than to say something like "My Foxes fight back," to Jean, a victim of recent brutality. It definitely comes across as tactless from Jean's POV and you would expect the nurse of a team of traumatized students to know what to say. But I don't think Abby actually knows what to say in these situations - and I don't think it's her fault.

This line from Wymack's bonus chapter suggests that Abby really doesn't have the same sort of background as Wymack and their players:

"David had sworn years ago not to interfere with his kids' fixes so long as they didn't get caught or end up hospitalized. It had led to more fights than he could count between him and Abby in the early days. She'd given in eventually, though she'd probably never forgive him for taking such a stance when he should be setting a better example. Maybe she was right, or maybe she didn't have enough nightmares to understand."

While Abby has agreed to back Wymack up on the issue of allowing players to take drugs, Wymack still believes that Abby privately disagrees. Wymack insists upon it because of his personal experiences in life and guesses that Abby doesn't have those same experiences to understand why he insists upon it.

It's easy to forget because of the POV the story is in, but Abby's reaction is the "normal" one. Most people do not support giving students alcohol and see it as their responsibility to stop students from taking drugs if they find out about it. Wymack only takes the harm reduction approach (i.e. allowing/giving recovering addicts the substance they are addicted to safely, instead of forcing them to be cut off immediately. A divisive approach, even nowadays.) because of his own experiences, not because he has formal training in addictions counselling/treatment. All Abby is doing, is sticking with what she knows and believes will help these young people.

Abby is very "by-the-book" in comparison to Wymack or even Betsy. She argues against taking Andrew off his medication and putting him in rehab immediately because she believes it goes against the recommended procedure of these situations. She argues against it out of genuine concern for Andrew, because she believes going against the recommended procedures will do him more harm than good.

It makes me think back to Abby's interactions with Neil back in AFTG, where Abby says, "Sometimes I think this job is going to kill me, seeing what people have done, what people continue to do, to my Foxes," right after Neil's been through hell at Evermore. This always rubbed me the wrong way because Neil's just been put through the wringer and all Abby can talk about it how much it's affecting her? She can give up this job at any time and walk away but Neil can't just walk away from being in his situation. But this is a really common sentiment among people who work with vulnerable populations. It's called "vicarious trauma" and it can happen when working with and empathizing with survivors of trauma. It can lead to lingering feelings of anger, sadness, guilt and burnout. Those feelings are no more Abby's fault that the feelings experienced in response to direct trauma.

The way I read it, Abby isn't trying to blame Jean or shame him for his victimhood. What Abby sees is a kid who acts like he's already given up on life, a kid who doesn't want others' kindness. It's not an unreasonable assumption to make; even Kevin and Neil have said that Jean "isn't a fighter." My interpretation is that Abby's "My Foxes fight back," is her attempt at copying Wymack's gruff support. I think she's hoping that a direct challenge will spark pride or defiance, or at least enough anger, to stop Jean from giving up. She's seen Wymack and Neil strong-arm Kevin into being brave all year, and I think she thought that that's what Jean needed to hear too. After all, it really seems to work when Wymack does it. But the difference between her and Wymack is that Wymack's understanding of what their players need comes from personal experience. He knows when the right time to say certain things are. Andrew tells Neil first thing, "Coach always knows what to say." And that's not because Wymack is a better person than Abby; it's just because Wymack knows from experience what they need to hear.

It's not Abby's fault that she doesn't understand them the way that Wymack does and that she can't help them the way that Wymack can. She doesn't have Wymack's lived experience. What's she's been doing this entire time is trying to understand what these kids need and trying to do the best she can for them with what she knows. She genuinely cares and she's trying, but she's making all the mistakes a normal person would make. And that's perfectly realistic and fine! It doesn't mean she doesn't care about the students she works with. It doesn't make her a horrible person. It just means that she's just kind of painfully normal. In fact, her painfully normal responses have helped too. Like when she hugs Neil and though Neil's not used to hugs (like, at all), it's new and comforting and something only she would have and could have given him at the time. And yes, she's going to fuck up from time to time and not be able to give people what they need, but that's part of caring for anyone.