#so these are very likely to reflect the fact that i cannot write an office setting to save my life 💀 i hope they're still of some use lol

[scealaiscoite]

coworkers to lovers prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

¹⁾ “hey - in case no-one else’s said it, you’ve been doing some really great work lately. i really apprec- i mean, all of us really appreciate it.”

²⁾ “if you keep putting in nights this late, i think [boss] is gonna start charging you rent.”

³⁾ “stop jumping in whenever you think i need saving! i don’t need defending, and i don’t need you!”

⁴⁾ “you remember how i take my coffee?”

⁵⁾  “you don’t need to keep pushing yourself so hard, you know. we all know how hard you worked to get here - it’s okay to let yourself breathe now.”

⁶⁾ “if you don’t wanna spend the night in a empty house, you could always come over to mine.”

⁷⁾ “normally when you invite me to lunch, it’s with everyone else too. what’s so different about this time that you needed me alone?”

⁸⁾ “don’t tell anyone else, but i like working with you the best.”

⁹⁾ “hey, why are me and [name] being split up? you know we do our best work when we’re together.”

¹⁰⁾ “i figured you wouldn’t have the time, so i went and picked up lunch for you.”

¹¹⁾ “wow, someone’s looking good. who’re you trying to impress?”

¹²⁾ “[other coworker] told me you nearly lost it when they all tried blaming me for what happened. why did you care so much?”

¹³⁾ “do you make house calls to all of your coworkers when they call in sick, or am i just that special?”

¹⁴⁾ “why are you freezing me out all of a sudden? I thought you were happy I was dating again, and now you act like it pains you to hear about it.”

¹⁵⁾ “until such a time as the two of you can prove that you can work as well on your own as you do together, you’re going to be put on different schedules.”

¹⁶⁾ “why didn’t you tell me you were up for the promotion? did you seriously think i wouldn’t be happy for you?”

¹⁷⁾ “you do know you’ll be seeing me first thing in the morning, right? what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until then?”

¹⁸⁾ “one date, that’s all i’m asking for. one night to let me show you how good we could be together.”

¹⁹⁾ “i think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own.”

²⁰⁾ “no, you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to make me fall in love with you, and then tell me there’s no way for this to work because of the job!”

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan is really being very clear about his survival strategy today.

I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. [...] Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I stand—or seem to.

Write everything down in detail so that he can confirm it later. Already, several odd instances have happened, as well as him noting multiple times on different days that "the Count himself did x" which then supported his theory, confirmed today, that there are no servants here.

I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself.

When something weird happens, double-check to make sure you observed it correctly. In this case he checked back in his mirror and yes, there really was no reflection.

When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly—as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life—and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.

A whole bunch going on here. His instinctive reaction is panic, but a type of panic that actually matches his character really well: being thorough, checking every possible option. But as soon as he can, he calms down and tries to think things through logically. His solution: keep quiet about it.

We saw this the other day in the caleche ride actually. Jonathan specifically said that he if he was right that the driver was deliberately delaying, then asking about it wouldn't help in any case. It's the same thing here: his own observations make it clear that Dracula is acting against him, and confronting him about it would only prompt him to lie. Worse, he may get more openly aggressive. Better to stay quiet and observant. Try to think clearly.

He did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along thought—that there were no servants in the house. When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion.

Jonathan recontextualizes earlier incidents based on his current knowledge, and builds hypotheses about what might be going on. He doesn't immediately jump to conclusions but he also doesn't dismiss seemingly supernatural or superstitious elements, both helpful and harmful. He uses the fact that Dracula likes to talk to him in order to subtly gather information. He also is clear here that he doesn't immediately write down his suspicions. He's thought since the beginning that Dracula was alone here, but has confined himself to mentioning direct observations until he had firm enough evidence to confirm his theory. I think this is especially interesting in the context of things like him not mention outright that Dracula could beat him in a physical confrontation, or stuff like him not wandering the castle too far yesterday. He may well be thinking about what 'locked doors' mean with great worry immediately, but he doesn't act right away and doesn't tell his entire chain of thought to his journal. Later on when he may seem to jump to conclusions at times it's very possible that he's had theories percolating for a long time before mentioning them.

Above all he tries to operate under facts, and to keep calm and amass as much information as possible, while staying under the radar as much as possible.

[utterly-emotional]

hey, lover! today's is valentine's day and your little love has something for you:

i would like to start quoting vladimir nobokov in one of the letters he wrote to his wife. last week, i got to reed some of the author's letters such as kafka's letter to felice or milena, virginia's letters to vita and, of course, nabokov's letters to vera. it creates a space of intimacy, i liked his letter because it felt so passionate, the way he described her lover is something truly unique.

"How can I explain to you, my happiness, my golden wonderful happiness, how much I am all yours — with all my memories, poems, outbursts, inner whirlwinds? Or explain that I cannot write a word without hearing how you will pronounce it — and can’t recall a single trifle I’ve lived through without regret — so sharp! — that we haven’t lived through it together — whether it’s the most, the most personal, intransmissible — or only some sunset or other at the bend of a road — you see what I mean, my happiness?"

as you may know -because you know me very well- i'm not really into being "possessed" by someone, however i feel the need to be yours in some sort of spiritual way. i like you, i love you and i would love to be engraved on your ribs, on your skin, on your lungs or your heart; i would love to be hanging of your eyelashes or the sharp words that come out of your mouth when i'm not close to you. i know for a fact that we're not truly possessed by each other but i do know that we like under each other's skin like some parasitism interaction. i continue to quote from another letter:

"I simply want to tell you that somehow I can’t imagine life without you…

I love you, I want you, I need you unbearably… Your eyes — which shine so wonder-struck when, with your head thrown back, you tell something funny — your eyes, your voice, lips, your shoulders — so light, sunny…

You came into my life — not as one comes to visit … but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads, for your steps."

by the time we met -or the time i found you- i had been craving love, closure yet i couldn't give myself to someone else because i was afraid. that first contact felt so... intimate too. you told you were moving and you wanted me to celebrate with you that you got a new apartment. i was pretty sure that you wanted sex but then you said you wanted to kiss me even if it was on the door of your office, in front of every coworker there. there i knew it wasn't just physical, it was a mere connection from the soul and it felt as if i finally was getting home. i'm telling you this because nabokov always thought his land existed to wait for vera and i felt the same when i met you; as if my neck and cheecks were waiting for the tenderness of your kisses, and my ear were waiting for your loving words.

we've -for sure- hurt each deeply, once nabokov cheated on his wife and contemplated the idea of committing suicide, yet we're still together -and they died being married and loving each other-. i'm glad to get to be your lover, your husband, your boyfriend, your friend and your valentine today but, most important, i'm glad to get to be the one of your dreams because you're the one in mine. i love you, i adore you, i desire you, i worship you, my biggest love.

[anavilante]

Yeah, this is non-con Stalag AU

@mstrota I like your tags. It’s also worth mentioning that Ulrich is not like Gale in bed at all. Gale is the only man John has ever slept with (in my headcanon John is not even bi, he has never been interested in men, dicks, asses, all of that, he is gale-sexual, he likes Gale not because he is a male and he has a dick, but because he is GALE). That's why it's even more difficult for him, because not only he does not want it, but Ulrich is also a male, and John didn't think he'd ever have to do this with anyone other than Gale or women. Ulrich is not like Gale in bed at all. John and Gale always had to hide, do it secretly, quietly, unnoticed, muffling moans, quickly, plus Gale doesn’t really like to openly say what he wants and what he needs, relying more on the fact that John will guess it and he won’t have to to voice this, but Ulrich is loud, demanding, arrogant, he knows what he wants, he commands John without any embarrassment. And this difference between them, this whole thing simply kills Bucky, making this all even more unbearable. And then this is reflected in his psyche - apathy, depression, thoughts of suicide, anger, aggression, persistent desire to get out of the camp, etc.

@shprka I don’t know about the fandom, but I love angst, basically I can read anything, but I can produce almost exclusively angst, if I start to develop thoughts, they almost always end on the dark side, and not on the light side.

@avonne-writes What interests me specifically in this situation is sexual assault against a man, when he is not in the role of a passive receiving part, but quite the opposite, it seems to me that little attention is paid to this and I am interested in thinking about it. There is such a subtle matter of consent here. No, Ulrich didn’t tie Bucky up and stick his dick in his ass. And no, he didn’t tie him up and don’t jerk his dick and then go down on him. He put John in a position where he had to agree to it himself. Yes, he threatens trouble for Gale and his people, but Bucky makes the decision himself whether to participate in all of this. Is this rape or not? Is this consent or not?

Plus I really want to emphasize that Ulrich is not just another guy, he is not just a person on the other side of the fence. Ulrich is the ENEMY. He has no feelings for Bucky, except for sexual interest, the desire to possess him like a rare beast, he doesn’t just force Bucky to do what he hates, he forces him to do it practically in front of his loved one and this gives Ulrich the same pleasure as the sex itself. He hates these Americans who came from overseas to bomb his German cities, he will do everything to make them regret their decision to come here, and even if he cannot kill them, he can destroy them to the ground in another way. And what's wrong with having a little fun in the process?

Ulrich loves to say "Come on John, don't be so stiff, fuck me like you fuck your Gale boy, you know how to do it" and Bucky wants to puke.

As a bonus, I want to say that when Gale found out, he didn't take it well. Generally zero of this fandom understanding, containing all the patience and love of the world ("Oh my poor Bucky, they forced him, he suffered so much! Come to me, I’ll hug you and we’ll cry"). No, Gale takes it very bad, very fucking bad. His boyfriend, his man, the only one with whom he had sex (he once called it making love, haha) REPEATEDLY FUCKED AN ENEMY, A NAZI OFFICER under his nose, and then returned and behaved as if nothing had happened, took Gale by the hand, helped with small matters, he pretended that everything was as it was. Was he threatened? They are all threatened, he is trained from the start what to do with threats to him or anyone else. Maybe Bucky is a traitor? Maybe he tells the Nazis everything he knows in exchange for extra food or better treatment? Gale doesn’t know, Gale no longer understands anything and he’s not sure of anything except that his world has cracked, split and fallen to the ground with small sharp shards of pain, resentment, anger and misunderstanding. And it will take a long time before there is even a little space in Gale’s mind to understand why Bucky did all of this.

Do you know what bothers me? This German officer Ulrich Haussmann, who interrogated Bucky…

He is played by Louis Hofmann, a German actor who starred in the movie Die Mitte der Welt (Center of My World) where he played a needy bottom.

And his top looked like Bucky - tall, big, with dark hair and blue eyes. And it just burned through my brain like a hot iron from the first seconds of his appearance on the screen. Remember his voice during Bucky's interrogation? How sweet and seductive was he?

And now this AU in which the German officer Ulrich Haussmann combines business with pleasure: he likes the American pilot Bucky, he would like to force him to fuck him, and fortunately, this pilot’s lover Gale Cleven is already in their captivity. Remember that scene when they asked how they would make us do this? And Bucky put his finger to Gale’s temple, showing exactly how.

Bucky knew what he was talking about, because this is how Ulrich made him fulfill all his desires. For Ulrich Haussmann, it's like killing two birds with one stone: getting a great black-haired blue-eyed lover who will do anything to keep his boy Gale out of trouble and at any moment you can report this information to Cleven, and that will certainly ruin the relationship between the two damn American pilots. It's a win-win situation. And Ulrich blackmails Bucky for some time, forcing him to fulfill his desires. And then Gale finds out that his Bucky is fucking a German officer. Can you imagine a lot of angst from all sides?

[astrologista]

i wonder why the functional cultural attitude towards fiction has changed to the point where the average person cannot suspend their own disbelief anymore.

everything has to be “realistic”. i guess internet critique culture like cinemasins has played into this where every single point of a film that’s not perfectly realistic gets pointed out and scrutinized like it’s a bad thing.

but the result of that is... just boring, bland moviemaking. like, it’s fiction. fiction. it’s not real. crazy things happen that wouldn’t happen in real life because it’s not. real.

the idea that fiction must perfectly reflect reality in every way is not necessarily groundbreaking or interesting when it’s done in a heavy handed way. it can be fun to be meta, to poke fun at fictional tropes, to question the way something is being done or write a script that feels relatable for modern audiences. but where’s the magic, the fantasy, the suspension of disbelief. 

where’s the character motivations - people do crazy things out of love, anger, grief. where is that reflected in modern, corporatized, neutered scripts where all characters have to be 2010s post-ironic and show as little genuine emotion as possible. why can’t the magic bring that character back from the dead even though that’s “so cliche”. it’s a story. it’s not real. it doesn’t have to be.

it pains me to realize that the animation industry used to be about true innovation. there was a belief that audiences wanted to see crazier and crazier adventures with out-of-this-world visuals, interesting stories, higher stakes. that was what animation was, it was freedom. pure ideas. the very fact that a movie was fictional gave its creators the freedom to portray almost anything through a director’s unique vision.

but somewhere along the way, studios decided that movies should be produced to be bland, tasteless mush with quips and joss whedon tier writing. never taking a risk, content to make their money back. don’t want to end up as a box office bomb and have 1000 youtube essays made about us, now do we? the funny thing is that literally every movie has at least 100 youtube “critics” trying to be doug walker and yms with a thumbnail that says “x movie was horrible”. just ignore this shit. it doesn’t affect the bottom line as much as you think it does, studios. damn.

i really hope we see some improved stuff after the writers and actors win their rights back. i am not bothered by the strike as there was pretty much nothing coming out that i was interested in seeing. i just want to see someone’s passion project again. bring the sincerity back and put artists back in control of their product, not finance guys. this is the one and only thing that can save this industry.

[sashi-ya]

ᴍɪɴɪ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ > ＣＯＴＴＯＮ ＣＡＮＤＹ ＣＬＯＵＤＳ˚۰

ＣＩＮＮＡＭＯＮ ✧ ＳＣＥＮＴ ａｉｚｅｎ ｓｏｓｕｋｅ ｘ ｆ！ ｒｅａｄｅｒ

request. @zella07 asked: Hello sashi ya how are you? I just saw the cotton candy event it looks amazing can I request Cinnamon scent Sōsuke Aizen x female reader can it be N s fw 😅 thank you tw. kinda +18, sexual memories. not really super descriptive. I feel a little sorry for Aizen, so, I personally like to write him that way since the scenario takes place at the muken when he is all tied up. don't cry, he still deserves a few spanks. Also, was he really dreaming? under an illussion?... 😏 wc. 988 masterlist.

Alone. because I am superior? Lonely. I’ll be always lonely. And it’s ok. But sometimes, even I, miss you…

Deep, deep down the pit the only scent is the humid smell of passing time. Brown eyes too powerful to be uncovered. Lips closed. Tied, tied tightly.

It doesn’t hurt, he can’t see without his eyes. He doesn’t need it. His solitude, is this enough to pay for the sins a god has committed?

Covered, completely covered. It’s a little heavy on his shoulders, but he doesn’t care. nobody can come closer or else he would be even more alone.

However, there is something changing. He doesn’t know what it is, nor he can sense it. He is to strong to even feel another being’s reiatsu. But that scent, that scent reminds him of his old captain days.

“It’s all been a lie; then why do I feel sorrow for those days?” he questions himself; he knows he never intended to be a Gotei 13 captain. Aizen only wanted to be treated like what he still considers he is, a lonely god.

“What’s been a lie, Aizen-sama?” you ask, holding a cup of hot cinnamon tea in your hands.

The man tied to that eternal chair flinches, he can barely move his head, his hands are almost melting against the armrests. It’s so painful, so hard to see him that way.

He can’t speak, but for the first time he is dying to do so, to break the ties… at least just for once, only one time, a last time.

Aizen, however, is sure that he is hallucinating. There is no way you are there; you cannot be there. By that time, his reiatsu could have crushed you and soon your soul would be turn to invisible litmus dust.

And he shivers. What if… what if he has done that to you? He panics, a god with such intellect couldn’t panic. The heart? He has one? Is it freedom what he is longing for? Or is it your touch for one last time?

The cinnamon scent is now present all around him, stronger, so delicious. His mind plays tricks on him, he remembers the way your naked back looked while resting on the floor next to him. Writing stuff he only wrote to play the game, the candle reflected on his glasses, and your naked body like a trophy.

Aizen feels on his fingertips, the twitching sensation of your wet lips surrounded around them. The sweet nothings he used to repeat to you, just to trap you, like a spider ready to devour his little pray.

Your moans that were a mere showing of your human facet. Looking down at you, as he used your body, the way your back arched whenever he rammed deep, deep inside of you. He always thought, he always believed, you were nothing but a piece of his masterplan, perhaps a simple pawn on his chess game. But Aizen now realizes maybe it wasn’t that way…

“Aizen-taicho, you want tea? I prepared a special blend” you always told him, waiting outside his office. And he swears he can hear you now asking the same.

And almost, as if it was only work of his heart, he begins to feel weak. Hungry for the very first time in his life. “Come closer, I won’t hurt you” he tries to say, to even mumble, but his lips are sealed.

“Can I sit on your lap, Aizen-taicho?” he listens, are you really there?

You walk towards his black straps surrounded body; he can feel your palm on his cheek. “Yes, yes… sit on my lap, please” he thinks, he could swear his eyes feel a little watery.

Aizen can feel your weight on his legs, he plans breaking every bone of his arms just to cut the ties that hold him still. In fact, you can hear the snapping sound of them. He is not using Hado, he could hurt you, he could kill you.

“Please, stop Aizen-sama…” you whisper, pulling down the reiatsu concealer ties over his lips. The moment you do, he takes a big gasp of air. It feels refreshing, and even a little intoxicating to get that much oxygen.  “Don’t hurt yourself, calm down…”

His lips are dry, and the slowly move. “(Nam- Name)?” he asks, amazed. When did you ever hear him being that way? Never.

“Yes, Aizen-sama… hush… please, have some of your tea. I prepared it just for you” you tell him, pouring little by little the cinnamon flavoured hot beverage on his tongue. He swallows, slowly enjoying it, like a balsam to his throat, like a warming hug to his troubled soul.

A drop falls from his mouth, staying there on his lower lip, right on the verge of falling. A drop you trap with your own lips. He shivers, and a little “huh” escapes his lips as a rough sketch of a moan.

“You are so sensitive…” you whisper, right on his ear. You notice how much he tries to pout; he tightens his jaw muscles. More, more, give him more of your lips over his.

“Touch me more, please” he pleads, so needy… Aizen Sosuke, needy?

You giggle, sexily, like a succubus that visits his victim on their sleep just to suck their energy through misleading lustful traps.  “More, Aizen-sama? Do you want a kiss? Or two?” you purr, coming closer, so dangerously close to a creature that nobody should be able to touch.

He can only emit sounds, after all, even if he is a god, he is a man too.

Your lips interlock with his, tongues dancing, so wet, with the back taste of cinnamon. He can feel himself becoming even weaker, but he smiles… and this time is genuine, it’s not a cocky smirk… is a relieved smile.

“(Name), thank you for coming…” “I will always visit your dreams when you need me, Aizen-sama… stay strong, your time is about to come”

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

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-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

[a-pretty-nerd]

V HITS DIFFERENT

FUCK ME

I WOULD LET THIS MAN DO UNSPEAKABLE THINGS TO ME!

So here's some headcannons because my hyperfixation is taking over my LIFE.

For my sanity's sake I'm going to say that after the events of DMC 5, V became his own entity outside of Vergil and he's now his own person.

Though he has Vergil's memories and considers them his own, he's his own individual which leaves him free to do as he pleases.

First on his list is his partner. Or hopefully soon to be partner. See, he met you and kinda fell for you before he merged to bring back Vergil.

In fact his memories and feelings for you was apart of how he came to be his own person aside from Vergil. While he was every human part of Vergil, it was his individual growth that made it too much and so Vergil was forced to spit him out while staying the same.

So now that he is free, and has you, his new life can begin.

Let's get the sweet SFW shit outta the way-

V can be stoic and quiet at times. Sometimes you might think he's mad or upset but really he's just thinking.

He's really taken with you.

Your strength, your interests, your personality, your appearance, your very being. He's enthralled by you and he cannot get enough.

You start living together pretty early on, and he's in heaven.

Sometimes poor guy gets imposter syndrome and he's prone to melancholy bouts of depression.

You're each other's emotional support Demon Hunters.

He'd probably go crazy without you.

Obviously he loves books, music, and surprisingly, cooking.

He's a creative type, clearly, and your shared spaces reflect that.

A two bedroom apartment or home is always necessary just because you always have to have a library/office space for the both of you.

One room with two desks and every wall covered by bookshelves. His collection grew really fast and continues to. So much so that you have to make him donate or trade in his old books in favor of new ones.

He won't talk about it unprovoked, but please, ask him about the book he's reading. Let him indulge in his hyperfixations and share them with you.

He has a very dry sense of humor. But you never fail to make him laugh.

He thinks you're perfection itself.

You make him feel so loved and cared for. He'd do anything for you.

He has all of the love languages. All of them.

He writes poetry about you and hides it away. You'll either have to find them yourself or beg him to let you read it.

When he realized you loved his poetry, he got more confident about it and he started writing poetic letters to you and leaving them for you to find around the apartment.

V gets flustered and blushes at the little things. Like you making him some tea, buying him something on a whim, turning over and snuggling him in your sleep, kissing his cheek without warning, smiling at him, etc.

V is very physically affectionate when you're alone. PDA isn't his thing. He does however, stay close to you in public. So don't turn around too fast because you might bump into him.

He's a tease on every level. He likes to you tease you about little things and crack witty jokes. He likes to get under your skin.

He loves it when you tease him back. He likes the witty back and forth of it. He doesn't laugh loudly very often, but he does smirk and chuckle.

Alright, now to the fun bit, NSFW:

V is cruel in bed.

Oh my God, his voice. He knows it makes you weak for him. He'll tuck his chin on your shoulder and speak softly in your ear.

The way he touches you, soft as a feather across your skin in an attempt to savor the feeling.

He's a switch, but rarely is there a real dom/sub thing between the two of you.

He'll try almost anything for you, he has his hard limits but other than those he's pretty kinky.

V doesn't have a super high libido, but he will almost never pass up an offer for sex with you.

He's a fast learner, sex also comes very naturally to him. The motion of the ocean is very, VERY good with this one.

He prefers to take his time, quickies are fun but not frequent.

V loves lingerie on you. He loves tracing the lacey patterns around your form with his eyes. The more delicate and artistic, the better.

As gentle and loving as he can be, he can and will fuck you into next week.

His favorite postion, now that he is in much better health and doesn't really need his cane, is having you on the edge of the bed while he fucks you.

He loves being able to lean up and grope you. To hold you and run his hands along your body. He loves to see your face, the way you look at him sends a chill down his spine.

He really likes talking dirty to you. He does it without really putting much thought into it. When things are really intense he'll just repeat himself in your ear.

"Yeah? Are you going to cum for me? Cum for me, love. Cum for me. Cum for me. Cum for me." He mutters into your neck.

He has a praise kink, of course. Tell him how good he makes you feel, how much you want him. He can't get enough.

Somedays, he just wants to stay in bed with you all day and fuck you over and over and over again. He wants to keep you all to himself, no interruptions, no distractions, just you and him.

He prefers to cum inside you. Of course with your consent. But it provides an intimacy he loves to indulge in.

He loves edging.

He does love the way you melt into his arms when he teases you. He's not one for control play, but sometimes, he can't help but revel in the way you beg for him. The way you moan and leave yourself so vulnerable to him to do as he pleases. You trust him so completely and that is a turn on for him on its own.

Somedays he just wants you to fuck him. He'll never explicitly ask for it but he wants you to pamper him.

Body worship is a big thing for him, giving and receiving.

It might actually take a minute for him to get comfortable to say what he really wants from you in bed. It's more comfortable for him to start out as the top, but as your intimate relationship builds, he will get to a place he feels safe and tells you everything.

Kiss him, everywhere. Especially his hips. For some reason his hips are sensitive to gentle touch. Kiss them, lick them, bite them, leave a hickey. In fact, leave hickeies everywhere.

V loves hickies, the look, the sensation. By the time you're done you're both riddled with them.

He hates the idea of public sex or sex tapes. He wants you alone. Those intimate moments are for you and him alone and he treasures them. No way in hell is he letting anyone else see that.

Bonus: Dilf V?

V is prime dilf material.

I think V would definitely need to be in a very specific, very safe place in life to want to have children.

He's not against having kids, especially with you. In fact, it's you that makes him warm up to the idea. If it's with you, then yeah, sure, but on several conditions.

He wants to keep them as far away from demons and demon hunting and all that, as possible.

If he is going to have kids, they are growing up nice and safe and normal.

He doesn't feel like he's great with kids, sometimes they make him nervous, but kids love him.

He's a hit during family events. He lets the kids "color in" tattoos. It's mostly children smearing marker over his arms but still, it's sweet.

V is very calm and kind, and somehow that translates into wild children stopping everything just to listen to him talk.

As a father, he's fucking ADORABLE.

He also refuses to let anyone else hold them for the first few months.

He is constantly doting over the baby, it is so hard for him to leave the house.

Reads to them, everyday. So precious.

He wants everyone to see and know about the baby and how amazing they are, but at the same time doesn't want anyone close to them.

Very protective papa.

After he gets over the nerves and fears with the first baby, he wants another.

Loves watching you with the kids. He thinks you're such an amazing parents.

[alighieri-sparda]

DMC Boys Sucking Male S/O Off

➤ Masterlist | Rules

Yeah, I know it’s not a request, but I had this idea a month ago and just now I decided to write it out. I took a while to finish it (as usual), but here we go.

I have a lot of Male!Reader stuff prepared to be written. Boys also deserve attention from our handsome devils, right?

Enjoy. :)

WARNING: Explicit descriptions of oral sex under the cut.

‣ ‣ ‣

Dante

It is one of his favorite things to do on you. No matter if it’s part of foreplay or just a random blowjob in the office, Dante likes giving you as much as he likes receiving it.

When he wants to have you in his mouth, you can easily catch him staring at you and then sense him behind you. His arms embrace your shoulders as he guides his mouth to your ear and asks you to sit on his chair and let him have some fun.

“I mean… You want it now?”

“Why not? You and I aren’t that busy anyway,” says Dante, trying to run away from his responsibilities.

Even though Dante can take you entirely in his mouth with no difficulties, he usually starts slowly to tease you. He loves when you start to beg him to go deeper with his mouth in a muttered and shaky tone of voice.

Dante is also very much skilled at deepthroating. This teasing devil is aware how much you like it when you can feel the tip of your shaft touching the back of his throat and how difficult it is to keep quiet when he does it, so Dante rather saves it for when you’re close. Thereby, he can make sure he’s going to swallow everything, wasting no drop of your seed.

He’s probably going to touch himself while he has you in his mouth. Not only to please himself but mainly because the grunts and moans he lets out against your sensitive skin make you throb even harder between his lips.

Read his actions while he’s sucking you off. If he’s constantly grabbing your thighs and being too slow, Dante can’t wait to have an opportunity to fuck you. But if his actions are a bit intense and he’s moaning too much against you, it is a not-so-subtle request to get laid. If you’re not sure about what he wants, it’s okay to ask him when you’re both done. 

That’s pretty obvious at this point but it has to be said regardless: Dante has no gag reflex. Don’t be afraid to cum at his throat and neither feel guilty if your mind was too numb to warn you were close. Dante knows when you’re about to come and he always swallows, so that’s no big deal for him.

Nero

Oh, if it isn’t a hell of an amazing experience. Nero somehow manages to make you feel that’s the first time you’re feeling his delicious mouth around your flesh. Perhaps the factor that increases his ability is his true desire of doing it since he explicitly prefers to give you head instead of receiving. He likes when you do it on him of course, but if he had to choose, the answer is pretty obvious.

Most of your make-out sessions with Nero will end up with him kneeling before you and teasing you to death. 

Though he doesn’t necessarily want to make you beg for him or whatever, even if he thinks that’s a nice extra. Nero enjoys the sight of you gradually losing your composure, going from a few simple gasps to a bunch of contained groans and desperate hip movements.

“That serious already? Let me take care of it then.”

He’s usually submissive to your commands, so take advantage of it and tug his hair to control his head or thrust against his mouth, moving your hips at the pace you enjoy. When Nero wants to dominate, he’d go for some lazy and controlled handjobs on you.

And yes, he loves when you facefuck him. This is important.

Nero has an average experience. With a bit of effort, he can take your cock entirely in his mouth — and even not so skilled at deepthroat, Nero doesn’t mind choking sometimes. He’s naturally too giving, so he’s constantly trying to take you deeper and make you feel more satisfied at each attempt.

Similar to his uncle, Nero is a damn switch. However, unlike Dante, Nero will always act the same when he’s sucking you off, whether he wants to fuck you or be fucked. What will determine his preference is the sentence he says after swallowing your cum. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” Nero would say before preparing you to be fucked in the nearest safe spot. But if he wants you to fuck him instead, you’d hear something like “Why don’t take care of me now, hm?”

V

Sudden blowjobs in empty alleyways? It’s more likely than you think.

The lack of experience of Vergil obviously reflects on V. Much likely his complete part, V doesn’t rush his apprenticeship: he acts slowly, repeating what you do on him. He’s more used to submission than Vergil though, so even after learning everything, V can switch between dominating you or just obeying your commands.

During his first attempts, you are completely free to control his head movements or just face-fuck him, but always remember to be gentle to the fragile poet. V can easily choke if you go too hard on him — but the fact that he doesn’t complain about choking makes you think of interesting possibilities.

He likes the idea of swallowing, but you’ll prefer to cum on his lips and face instead of doing it directly on his throat. Eventually, it’s going to become his preference.

V may not be skilled at blowjobs in the beginning, but his devilish hands compensate it all. He’s constantly stroking the part of your shaft he cannot take in his mouth yet and massaging his balls/inner thighs. It helps him a lot since he knows the pace you like when he has his hands on you.

If you want to press his “hornier” button, caress his hair and praise him. Tell V how fast and well he’s learning, and how good his mouth feels around you. Extra points if your voice is trembling due to the pleasure you demonstrate you’re feeling.

Speaking of which, you better don’t hold back a moan because V won’t do it either. This new sensation is so good for him, feeling his mouth so full with your throbbing and wet sex, so he takes his chance to stimulate you even more with the vibrations of his groans around your sensitive skin.

Once he learns what to do and gets confident about his skills — which won’t take much longer if you're praising him correctly —, V will realize he prefers to give you oral instead of receiving it. No matter if he’s going to fuck you until you’re both exhausted or if he’s about to be gently pegged by you, V will always kneel before you to at least tease your cock with his mouth.

“It’s not my fault you taste so good, prince.”

Vergil

At first, you’d avoid asking him to suck you off. Vergil is still pretty inexperienced and you’d be afraid to make him uncomfortable somehow. But Vergil himself will come up with this idea during foreplay, not exactly giving you the chance of objection though. He just knees and hopes you get what he will do.

“Vergil, what are you—”

“Just let me do it.”

His first movements are going to be gentle and almost experimental. It’s not like he has absolutely no clue of what to do because… well, he has a dick himself and you already satisfy him like this very much. He only needs to get used to having his mouth full while he tries to satisfy you.

He tries to imitate what you usually do on him with some variations. Since Vergil cannot take you entirely in his mouth at first, he decides to stroke the part he doesn’t reach. Depending on your reactions, Vergil surely will risk some attempts to take your entire shaft.

Vergil won’t ask for it, but he will be very grateful if you gently guide his head at the pace you prefer — he already enjoys it when you tug his hair while he fucks you anyway. Do not be afraid of giving you some tips and do not contain your reactions: those factors are important for him because that’s how he knows if you’re liking it or not. 

But when he finally learns how to do it properly and what you like, don’t even think about trying to control his movements. Vergil will press you against the mattress and suck you off while he spreads your legs and grips your thighs, preparing you for what will come next.

He doesn’t like the idea of swallowing at his first attempts, so take care not to surprise him and choke the poor devil: warn when you’re close. After some practical lessons, however, you’re always going to feel a low satisfied grunt against your shaft whenever you cum between his soft lips.

It’s also important to say that Vergil won’t deny you a blowjob — woah, never —, but he usually doesn’t offer to do it. So, if you want it, you will have to ask him.

[bookofmirth]

I saw your recent response to an anon where you mentioned the drama that occurred the other day based around bookprofessor’s post. Obviously you don’t have to respond to this or publish it if you do not wish but I just wanted to bring up that while it is important to focus on the real life issues at hand, the OP was hypocritical in her post which is why people were getting upset. She was preaching against ableism while simultaneously flaunting her IQ and degree which is a form of ableism. She was speaking out against racism while ending her post using the racial slur “cracker” when talking about the possibly Caucasian Twitter elriels.

Obviously she had some important points but it was completely overshadowed by her participation in the hate speech and prejudice that she was speaking out against.

This does not in any way justify the nasty messages she received but on the same hand, I do not blame anyone that called her out for her hypocrisy. I hope you can understand why her post was so negatively received and how flawed it was. My hope is that one day everyone can just ignore the negativity, report those who are being racist/prejudiced in any way, and block those who are just being loud and who you don’t wish to see content from. But unfortunately I do not see that happening any time soon.

There are a few things I want to address in this because I think it's a good moment for the fandom to step back and reflect on how we treat one another, how we react to such issues, and how we behave moving forward.

First off, thanks for explaining your point of view without being antagonistic. I do think that everyone's emotional reactions to the post were valid. I do NOT think their responses, in terms of words and actions, were valid. Now before I move forward, I want to clarify that when I use the word "you", I am referring to anyone who may have had the response I am describing - not you personally, anon. Also please don’t freak out about how long this is, as a majority of it is a response to the fandom in general, not you in particular.

What was - and wasn’t - said in the original post

In this post, there were completely valid criticisms of the way that people in this fandom behave, and it wasn’t “generalizing” a certain group, it was literal, actual proof of things that had been said, by multiple people. I’m not going to get too into what Alyssa argued because her critiques of those tweets was flawless. The original post had very valid criticisms of what was happening on Twitter. Alyssa exposed the actually racist, homophobic, and imperialistic underpinnings of those tweets.

However, a lot of people are stuck on the bits before and after those critiques. @bookprofessor apologized for different aspects of her post in a few different asks. There were perhaps better ways that some of those things could have been phrased, some things that could have been left out. And she apologized. People can accept that apology or not but we can’t act like it didn’t happen. Like she didn’t reflect and learn to do better.

However, the people she was calling out have not done the same thing, and if anything, comments that focus more on Alyssa’s tone than why she wrote the post in the first place lets those people off the hook.

On cracker - Using the word "cracker" is not racist in the same way that using racial slurs against POC is. Is it prejudiced? Yes. But you cannot say that it is the same thing when that is demonstrably untrue, given centuries of oppressive history. No one has been oppressed for being white. Those are not the same. Reverse racism is not a thing because a white person punching down on POC is NOT AT ALL the same thing as a POC punching up at white people. The actions look the same, but the impact is so unequal it’s not even funny.

Racism is a systemic, institutionalized problem. It is not defined by individual actions, though those actions can either support or challenge racism. When someone calls a white person a cracker, there isn’t centuries of oppression giving power to and reinforcing that statement. That is not a “gotcha” moment.

Saying “I have x IQ” or “I have X degrees” is not ableist. I’m sorry to whoever told you it was ableist (again, not you specifically anon but people who had read the “aw shucks guys” vagueblogs about it), but it’s not. Those are facts. I have no idea what my IQ is, but I have five degrees from institutions of higher education. Me saying that is in no way ableist. 

Often, people mention those things to be elitist, yes. Sometimes, they can be used to say “hey I know more about this than you”. They can be used in a way that tries to make themselves feel superior. I suspect that this is the impression that a lot of people got of the post. However, there is a fine line between saying “hey that’s elitist” and professing anti intellectualism. Which is perhaps a side issue so I’ll let that go for now.

Another reason that people mention their degrees or qualifications is to establish their background knowledge and credibility. If I were to say “hey y’all I have two MA degrees” (which is true) I am not being ableist! It is a fact! It is factual! And I worked my ass off for those, I will be in student loan debt until I die for those, I have every right to mention them if I want to, and often I do so in order to establish my credibility, to explain the position I am coming from. And my prior knowledge of these topics is relevant when we are talking about literature since that’s what my degrees were on - literature and linguistics. That is why Alyssa mentioned her background, though she did pair it with comments about other people, for which she has apologized.

My final point about this is that I 1000% understand feeling insecure or less than because of educational attainment. I dropped out of high school. I had a complex about that for a long, long time. But I also know that if I took offense at someone else saying they had a PhD, then that offense is about me, not them. Someone else’s inferiority complex is not reason for people to pretend to be less than they are.

If those two comments are what overshadowed the bigger, more important issue for a lot of the readers of that post, then y’all allowed them to overshadow those more important issues. I am 99% sure that someone right now is reading this and thinking “but Leslie, it was the way that she said it!” Boy have I got some news for you!

How we react

This next section is not specific to this ask; instead, it is a discussion of how the fandom responded. If it were only one person who had said “but her tone” then I wouldn’t need to make this point. The fact that multiple people are exhibiting the behavior explained below is what makes this a cultural problem within the acotar fandom.

The main argument I saw on the post itself, and indeed any time I see people bring up how nasty Twitter can be, is that “it was a joke” and “that’s how stan Twitter works”.

No.

Those responses were quite useful for this post, though! So buckle up everyone, because I am going to talk about gaslighting, racism, respectability politics, and tone policing. While I understand that some people might have taken personal offense to what was said, there is a much bigger issue at stake that has nothing to do with individual feelings, and everything to do with ensuring that POC stay silenced and white supremacy is upheld. 

Back to the “but it’s a joke” thing. Thanks for gaslighting! Great example of that, person I’m not going to tag! Gaslighting is when you make someone question their experiences, when you try to make them think “wait, did I really feel that way? Is my feeling about that valid? Do I need to re-evaluate my response to this?? Am I blowing this out of proportion???” And saying “it’s just a joke” is a perfect way to do that. Did I say something accidentally sexist? It’s just a joke, nbd! Now you’re the problem, because you didn’t understand my joke and laugh!!! 

Saying “it’s a joke” or “oh they are old/young/ignorant, they will learn” is not a good response to... anything. It takes the responsibility off the people who are doing the harm, and putting it onto the people who were hurt. And in this case, anyone who read those tweets and found them harmful (which should be everyone?) is completely valid. You aren’t lesser for being angry or emotional or for seeing a problem where other people saw a joke. The people who see those things as acceptable jokes are the ones in the wrong.

This is a tactic that is used against women all the time. Any time a woman is sexually harassed at work or online, for example, and she gets upset about it, and someone chimes in with “oh they weren’t serious, can’t you take a joke?” So you can imagine what this is like for women of color.

It is a very, very common tactic for people of color to be silenced via tone policing and respectability politics. Tone policing and respectability politics are very closely related, especially in this context. The idea is that if Alyssa had just written that post in just the right way, it would have been more palatable to white people, and therefore okay to write. The idea that if she had tried to be “understanding” or “see it from their perspective” or understand that it’s “just a joke” are all ways to silence and de-legitimize any accurate, valid criticisms that were made of those tweets. It effectively re-routes the conversation away from the real issues, and to the person trying to bring them up. It’s essentially an ad hominem attack in disguise. 

We see respectability politics in media when people of color who act or dress or speak like white people are afforded more respect. Or any time that a person of color is pulled over and people say, “well if they had just done what the police officer asked...” There is a pervasive idea that if people just “act” properly, aka if you act white, then the police won’t feel antagonized and try to kill arrest you. If we are nice enough, meek enough, smile enough, etc. then we will be accepted.

When we tone police, we refuse to allow marginalized people the right to be angry. We say that "hey, we can only have this discussion if you leave emotion, which you rightfully feel, at the door, and we can only continue this discussion if you behave in a way that makes me feel comfortable." But guess what? It isn’t about you! These discussions are often highly uncomfortable. There is no nice way to tell someone they are being racist. And yet somehow, that is the ever-moving goalpost. It seems reasonable, right? “Just be civil, be nice, don’t insult each other!” And there is that. But those criteria change constantly, to the point where anyone (white) at any time can say “WHOA WHOA THIS IS MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE???” Then we find ourselves at zero, and suddenly the focus of attention has shifted away from the actual problem.

Before we go further, I want to say this: people have a right to be angry. They do not need to make their anger palatable or tasteful for the consumption of others (read: white people). 

We saw this last summer, and I’m not sure how the message didn’t get across. But people are rightfully angry about racism. They are angry about the murder of people of color by police, they are angry about lack of quality education, or clean water, of centuries of oppression that have led to this very moment when all of that ceases to matter because a white woman’s feelings got hurt one time. 

And that is what pisses me off so much. There is no way in this world that we could criticize tweets like those that everyone would agree with, and that everyone would “approve” of, that would be “nice” enough and yet still be impactful and make the authors of those tweets understand the gravity of what they have done. 

The least we can do is allow one another to express our anger, our outrage, because it’s highly likely that those people know exactly what the fuck they are doing, and they do not fucking care. By criticizing a woman of color for the way in which she chose to engage with this topic, we are avoiding the issue and letting the people in those tweets off the hook. 

There were many responses to that post that were positive, that agreed with Alyssa. There are a ton of people who disagree with those tweets, who find them disgusting, who understand exactly how and why they are problematic. That should be what we are talking about. Getting to the core of the argument, on that post or any about racism or other problematic behavior in fandom, requires getting past our own egos. It requires us to be able to step back, say “hm this thing is frustrating but there is a bigger picture here”. It’s not easy, and I recognize that. 

The fact that it is a common tactic though? To say “hey this hurt me personally and so I’m going to ignore any valid points you made?” That feeds directly into centuries of white supremacy because it, once again, silences POC and makes them try to play a losing game. And they will always lose, because no matter how hard they try to play the white game, the goalposts are constantly shifting. So you know what? Fuck the game, and fuck respectability politics, and fuck tone policing and “uwu be nice guys” because when it comes to things like racism and sexism, I don’t expect the people who deserve to be criticized to be nice. In fact, trying to be nice only serves to fuck POC over in the end.

Indeed, in response to that post, certain blogs have taken the opportunity to position themselves as “the nice ones” or “the ones who would never” or “uwu let’s be nice guys” while completely ignoring the fact that a woman of color was attacked for calling out racism. And yes - that was the point of her post. People getting hung up on mentions of her degree are (intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter) completely obfuscating the fact that that is not what her post was about, which was to call out disgusting behavior. idk how many words the post actually was, but essentially, people are focusing on 5% of it to the detriment of the 95% that was actually really important shit. These types of vagueblog posts about the issue fall into exactly what I am talking about - these are people who have decided to look at this issue, see how Alyssa (and anyone else who dares speak up) has approached it, and intentionally try to act like they are “better” because they can be “rational” and “kind”. Newsflash, if you don’t have something to be angry about, then being “nice” about racism isn’t that much of a flex. If it didn’t bother you, then congratulations. That doesn’t make you better than people it did bother. You just got lucky this time, and decided to use that to your advantage to look like the good guy.

I am not saying that all calls for peace are doing this. Obviously it’s what we all want. This is the worst I have seen this fandom in the 4+ years I’ve been here. But we cannot have that by ignoring the real problems and pretending that if we are all just nice to each other, then we will solve racism and sexism and all bullying in the fandom will stop. 

So combining all of this - the gaslighting, the tone policing, and what do you get? You get a fandom that refuses to actually engage critically with its own problems and take accountability for them. You get a fandom that decides that it’s easier to be distracted by this one mean comment over here than it is to engage in the fact that you know what, the culture in this fandom has actually turned incredibly disgusting and a lot of people are just okay with it. You’ve got a fandom that is using the tools of white supremacy to avoid the discussions that should actually be taking place. Maybe people don’t realize that that’s what they are doing. But if someone still thinks that after reading this post, then godspeed my friend, I hope you enjoy Twitter.

Okay so my last thing I want to say is that I didn’t come to all of this knowledge fresh from the womb. I do a lot of work, in my personal life and my professional life, to be better. So here is a list of books that I have found particularly helpful:

How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America also by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (side note, I was kinda meh about this one but the chapter “White Women’s Tears” is particularly helpful)

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins

I’m not going to talk specifically about Alyssa’s post anymore, but if anyone wants to continue talking about these broader issues going on in the fandom, I am game. (I really should be grading papers though, so it might take a bit.)

[mejomonster]

allow me to vent for a second.

i am really annoyed with Microsoft Office’s new ‘editing’ tool which does tons of style ‘corrections’ beyond just regular grammar and spell check. I would guess grammarly may have a lot of the same issues, but i’m not sure. my annoyance is that... in the new ‘editing’ tool, 1. it is very hard to turn off all the style ‘corrections’ which should realistically only be optional since they aren’t actually a matter of good or bad writing, and 2. these style corrections are very clearly geared toward specific forms of writing (business/school) which means when applying them to say personal articles you write or fictional stories, they can push ‘correction’ suggestions on you which completely ruin the intent you were aiming for. And when all you want to do is quickly double check you made no typos, and made no grammar mistakes, instead it highlights dozens (to hundreds) of other areas that actually need no corrections.

I tried to edit a novel just to check for spelling/grammar errors, and it wanted to correct hundreds of things which were style-only. Like X isn’t good for resumes (no kidding its a NOVEL), maid isn’t gender neutral (yes its not because this is a novel choosing words for specific effects not a work document), trying to change certain comma’d lists from “smart and diligent, cold and ruthless” into “smart, and diligent, cold, and ruthless” which... novels break up sentences in specific stylistic ways to make the writing read/flow a specific way... to move the commas in this case would ruin the rhythm the author wanted you to read it in. Basically... the ‘style corrections’ tool was giving me hundreds of not-real errors to sort through, slowing down me immensely, and these style corrections Aren’t True Errors. They’re useful OPTIONAL features, if you’re writing say a work document or resume and need to word yourself professionally. They absolutely butcher fictional writing, and I’m guessing if you wrote a literary analysis this tool would also be giving a ton of not-real-errors to correct every time you use a quote from the literary work. :c

:c :c :c

On the one hand, I’m very happy such new tools exist to help people figure out how to stylistically word themselves better. The skill of figuring out how to word something professionally in a work setting can be difficult, and its good as a tool to offer. 

But the fact these tools seem to slant that way Mandatorily and require so much tech skill to turn off (I had to go in and dig to turn most of these off and i still have so many accidentally turned on i’m still getting 50-200 false-errors flagged per writing piece I proofread), i cannot imagine is going to have a good effect on people’s abilities to learn how to creatively write moving forward. Or for people to be self-aware of how varied language effects your impression on your reader. And since a specific company, specific software, is the ‘guide’ being forced for correcting one’s writing stylistically, of course that can always lead to new biases in writing overall. The biases the software was made with, that the designers inherently had and were never questioned for, and people will ‘correct’ their work to reflect those software internal biases. And so while to a degree, the ‘style corrections’ will help people write more professional technical less uninclusive writing, the dependency on a software to decide what is correctly those things will mean some biases in the system will reflect into everyone’s writing using it if not proof read for that by the writer personally. TLDR: while such stylistic tools are helpful in the way another pair of eyes are in a writing group, beware of relying on them as the end all be all of correct. The software is inherently biased toward specific types of prose which your writing may not benefit from, and any inherent biases that are uninclusive or unhelpful may bleed into the software corrections so any corrections should always be read over by YOU later to make sure the writing is actually doing what is intended and not something wrong. 

And then, the other criticism: as USUAL microsoft office still flags a lot of grammar as incorrect which is in fact correct, so i still have to double check all of its grammar-flagged areas and fix them myself if they are wrong (since microsoft office at least half the time suggests an incorrect fix). So writers are going to STILL need the skill of understanding grammar enough to proofread their own documents, since these ‘correction tools’ are still not fully reliable in that aspect (except now writers will need to sort through grammar errors they need to fix themselves AND a bunch of flagged-stylistic stuff which may have been completely purposeful and needs no changes). :/ 

basically, critically read, and always proofread your own writing and edits others (and especially Programs) make to your writing. Programs have their own built in biases which you can’t just assume are perfect, and as always at least with microsoft office lol i’m still seeing it tag a lot of things as ‘errors’ that either aren’t errors or need to be corrected in a Different way than microsoft office suggests. 

Anyway. Does anyone have a guide to point me to, for turning off ALL of microsoft’s style-corrections? I only need the spell check and grammar check (and the grammar check as usual I still end up needing to fix but at least sometimes it highlights the weird areas so I can find them faster).

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 57 (Final)

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find your relic.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You’d only been to the ancient Sanctum a few times, with strict access to the library for your studies and nowhere else, and normally you would be excited to visit the unofficial headquarters of the Mystic Arts.

But now, as you followed Wong to the room of portals that would lead to the Nepal sanctum, your stomach twisted and your heart raced. You couldn’t even enjoy the fact this was where Strange had gone on his near-disastrous pilgrimage. The idea of the Ancient One kicking him out on his ass was an entertaining one, though you were still glad she eventually trained him. As irritated as you were about a lot of things regarding the former surgeon, he and Wong both had taught you nearly everything you knew.

Plus, you’d seen the scars on his hands. As arrogant and egotistical as he appeared, Strange had suffered to get where he was. Not unlike yourself. Not unlike Bucky.

The Orb of Agamotto hung within the circular room where other sorcerers consulted with it, verifying that the magical Earthly shields were still intact. Past them were three doors leading to the other sanctums, including the one in Kathmandu.

You and Bucky followed Wong through, the familiar feeling of displacement shifting your stomach and throwing you off balance for a moment. Neither Wong nor Bucky were as unsteady as you were. It had been something you were embarrassed about, but according to Strange during one of your lessons, it simply meant you were more sensitive to spatial displacement.

As Wong led you both through the ancient stone hallways, past the commons where other sorcerers were in training, doubt crept along your nerves. Someday, possibly sooner than you were prepared, all of these people were going to follow you. Look to you for guidance, for teaching. For protection.

How were you supposed to become the next Ancient One if you couldn’t even walk through a portal without getting dizzy?

This wasn’t going to work. The idea was crazy enough to begin with. The Ancient One had to be wrong. You were going to step into her office and nothing would happen. You would make a fool of yourself; you weren’t any more talented or skilled than any other sorcerer. Just half a year ago, you’d had no idea demons and magic were even real.

And now, you were expected to carry on the mantle as one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth? How was that even possible? How could you ever be worthy enough to—

Wong opened a door using a complicated series of hand gestures, and as soon as you stepped through, your panicked mind fell silent. Energy thrummed along your skin, setting the hairs upright.

“Here it is.”

Wong’s announcement was unnecessary; you would know this place in your dreams, even though you had never been.

It was a simple room with a single large, circular window pointed towards the mountains over the city. Potted plants perched on most available surfaces that weren’t covered with books, scrolls, and odd knickknacks.

There was only a single writing desk pushed to the side, humble and unobtrusive. The rest of the room was empty space with a single well-worn green rug in the middle. But the plants made everything seem alive and verdant. It felt very much like a place the Ancient One would spend her time. It was a reflection of her, in a way. Quiet, but hidden with secret truths.

“Take a look around,” Wong said, but you were already moving. Slowly and with intense focus, you circled the room, reaching out and feeling, not with your hands but with your mind.

Odd and powerful energy pervaded the room, muted by spells but still apparent to you. They were coming from the artifacts that were laid out, seemingly casually, on the shelves and desks.

Most of them seemed as plain and unimportant as the room itself. A cracked vase with the lip stained red. A golden helmet that was varnished and faded, but two glittering horns jutted from the temples. A knobby staff with a smooth, grey stone fixed at one end, as modest as any walking stick except for the melodic hum that emanated from the stone. You had a feeling neither Wong nor Bucky could hear it.

But despite all the weird, wonderful oddities in your reach, you were drawn elsewhere. You approached one corner of the room where lay a pile of old scrolls and their cloth wrappings, and moved them aside with care to reveal what was hidden underneath.

It was a sword hilt. Just the hilt. There was no blade, not even a piece of broken metal. The metal was dulled with time and flaked with rust, the pommel grey and dirty.

You reached out and hesitated. Fingertips inches away, something stopped you. The knowledge that once you took hold of the relic, everything would change.

You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky.

He was watching you with close attention, as was Wong, but when he caught your eye he gave a small smile of encouragement. He supported you, even though he had to know what this meant, or at least had a good idea of it.

Not every sorcerer found their relic within the Ancient One’s study.

Comfort and warmth, so strong it could only be described as love, flooded across the bond and washed away your fears. You returned his smile, even if it was shaky, and you held on to that feeling as you turned back to the hilt.

You closed the distance, wrapped your fingers around the relic, and lifted it.

It was surprisingly heavy; that was your only observation before it began. The hilt thrummed in your palm, vibrating so fast you nearly dropped it.

The rust flaked away from the metal, leaving it polished and silver. The grey pommel was shaken of its dirt, and you realized it was white bone, the metal wrapping around it to form the grip and crossguard.

The thrumming didn’t stop, but you couldn’t let go even if you wanted to. Your fingers seized around the metal, energy teeming up your hand and arm. When it reached your right shoulder, all the way up to your pentagram, the sigil burned in a way it hadn’t done since the ritual.

Bucky must have sensed your panic because he rushed forward, but you backed away from him fast, instinct screaming at you to put a safe distance between you now.

It was a good thing you had; the energy from your sigil exploded down your arm, through your hand, and into the hilt. A burst of red light shot outward, forcing you to turn away from the blinding beam.

When the light dimmed and you could see again, blinking away the after images, you stared at the sword. That’s what it was now. A glowing red blade, seemingly made entirely of light. The energy that came from it was purely of the demon realm, scorching and sulfuric.

“What…” You choked the words past your dry throat. “What is this?”

There were only a handful of times you’d ever seen Wong shocked. So, that was three powerful sorcerers you’d rendered speechless in the span of a day.

“The blade of Hell, or so it is spoken. None in the history of the order had been able to unlock its powers, rendering it anything more than a broken hilt.” He leveled you with a somber stare. “It is called Daemonio Vexatur. Which means—“

“—to become a demon.”

Wong raised a brow.

“Rough translation, but yes.”

“So, it’s a demon sword?” asked Bucky, eyeing the glowing blade. He was understandably wary, and honestly, was accepting what was happening better than you were. You were still stuck on the fact that you were holding a glowing-freaking-sword in your hand.

“Yes. And no,” Wong said in traditional teaching-fashion. “A demon cannot wield it, but it takes demonic energy to power.”

“Oh. So that’s why my sigil and my entire arm feel like they’re on fire.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and he took a step forward, protectiveness sizzling along the bond, and you gave him a hurried smile.

“Kidding. Sort of.” You smiled wider through your clenched teeth. “It is really uncomfortable.”

Bucky’s dark look told you he didn’t believe you, and with what you imagined was coming from your end of the bond, you didn’t blame him. Holding the sword was like holding on to a live wire that was also burning. There was a molten jolt connecting the hilt to your sigil, and you were just hoping to not get incinerated in the process.

And just like that, the connection was gone, and the relief of your arm no longer being on fire was dimmed by the disappointment as the sword was extinguished, leaving nothing more than a gleaming hilt.

“What happened?” You frowned, eyeing the relic as if searching for an on switch.

“It will take time and training to effectively control your relic.”

“How long?” You looked up when Wong didn’t answer immediately, catching the serious dent in his brow.

“It’s hard to say. No one in living memory has wielded the blade, and it was believed no one ever would.”

Wong gave a heavy sigh.

“So of course, you would be the one to wield it.”

You returned your gaze to the relic and turned over the hilt in your hand, admiring the metal and bone. You wondered if the bone was from a demon, a safe bet considering.

“So.” You carefully put down the hilt and turned to give Bucky your best serious face. “How does it feel to have a wizard girlfriend with a lightsaber?”

Wong rolled his eyes. He knew you well enough by now to know what you were doing, but he didn’t comment on your attempts to over your fear with humor. He muttered something about reporting to Strange as he left the office.

But Bucky…

Worry and fondness conflicted across the bond, struggling to coexist. He stepped forward, the green cloth tunic he’d found in one of the drawers of your room stretched unfairly tight across his chest. It was the largest he could find in a hurry, and it was nearly enough to distract you from your own anxieties.

“I think…” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into an embrace that you melted into easily. “That I’m scared for you. I’m confused as hell what this means, and I’m guessing this isn’t going to make your life any easier or less complicated. But… I’m also proud of you.”

You could sense the pride easily, but Bucky was trying to bury the fear that was close to terror. He truly was scared of what this meant. You were too, and the Ancient One’s words weighed heavily on your shoulders.

There was a questioning feeling tugging at your thoughts, and you remembered too late that Bucky could sense the same anxiety, even if he didn’t have all the details. So you smoothed out your tumultuous thoughts and covered them the best way you knew how.

“You say that to all the wizard girlfriends.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“That is what swords do.”

Bucky pulled back far enough to stare at you with narrowed eyes, but when he touched his horns to yours it was with such gentleness that you nearly forgot to breathe. But breathe you did, drinking in his familiar, soothing scent and allowed the tension to drain from your muscle.

“We should head back.” Bucky said after a moment of intimate, comfortable silence in which you finally relaxed. “Got a bastard to catch.”

You reluctantly let go first, knowing he was right and you couldn’t stay here forever. Turning toward the sword hilt, you reached for it and paused. You took a small detour and picked up an old, ratty cloth nearby and carefully wrapped the relic within. Until you had a better grasp of how to wield the sword, it was probably a wiser idea to not handle it directly. You had no idea if it was sentient like Strange’s cloak, and it would be better not to accidentally set it off. Slicing off your own leg was a poor way to convince anyone that you were the next Ancient One.

On your journey back down the halls toward the portal door, Bucky said, “So… what are you going to name it?”

He smiled at your sideways glance.

“All cool swords get a name. It’s kind of a universal rule.”

Maybe you didn’t know Bucky as well as you thought you did, because you had no idea he was such a damn nerd.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bestow all your sword knowledge on me.”

“Is that a sexual innuendo?”

“It is now.”

Bucky’s smile died on his lips when you were no longer at his side. He paused and looked back where you had stopped at the threshold to the portal room.

“What if I can’t do this?” The doorway before you was no longer just a doorway. It was an insurmountable hurdle, and your feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. “What if I fail?”

Bucky approached slow and steady, his expression gentle and fond.

“You won’t. You’re too stubborn to fail.” A warm hand softly cupped your cheek, his human one, and you leaned into it. He laughed silently at your predictable need to be touched, but his expression faded into something more serious. “But on the very slim chance you do, then you get back up and you start again. Just as you always have.”

Your stomach fell. Bucky couldn’t understand what failure meant in your case. You didn’t even know what it meant, but you could guess. If you failed to be the Ancient One everyone needed… then there might not be any second chances.

Bucky wrapped you in his arms one more time, undoubtedly sensing his words of encouragement hadn’t hit as effectively as he’d wanted.

“Whatever this means, you finding that relic… Whatever happens when we find Zemo...” Bucky’s voice was deep in his chest, a rumbling sound that never failed to comfort you. “I’ll be here.”

You returned his embrace, gripping him tightly as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“I know.”

And you did, too. Bucky would be there for you. Not because he was compelled to be, and not out of a sense of duty or guilt to protect you. He would be by your side by choice.

And that fact made Zemo’s escape, the Ancient One’s words, and your own self-doubt a little easier to bear. Because you and Bucky would weather it.

Together.

“When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful.” –David Bowles

[askfriskandcompany]

So, I need to be able to cite the sources for everything you put on the Crinja page to prove it's credible. Could you repost that here?

(Clears throat)

The Way of the Crinja is a semi-religious philosophy founded by the first-generation ninja master Silvamaru. He was, by all accounts, a very tacky individual whose mere presence inspired second-hand embarrassment in nearly all who saw him. He wore bright colors, mixed patterns, fishnets, a spiked collar, his hair was rainbow colored, his left eye was black and red, his right eye was pale white, he spoke in an exaggerated accent of unknown origin, and no matter how much he bathed he always smelt strongly of citrus. And on top of all that, his personality was big, loud, boisterous, blunt, and prone to misreading social situations.

Silvamaru found great difficulty in finding friends due to him inadvertently annoying a lot of people. And when people DID sort of accept him it was always with the expectation that he had to “tone it down a little”. For the first ten years of his time in Trashlandia, he slowly began dressing more conventionally, faking a softer voice in a more “normal” accent, dying his hair black, and trying in vain to suppress his pervasively citrusy odor.

Living like this caused Silvamaru great anguish over time, to the point that he began contemplating taking his own life. According to legend, he decided one day to throw himself off of a great sea-cliff which is now known as Dousatsu no Gake, or Insight Cliff. It is said that after he fell into the sea, Trashlandia Herself fished him out of the water and resuscitated him. The sea water washed the black dye from his hair revealing it’s rainbow colors again. Once he was awake, Trashlandia stayed with him for a time and talked to him about his troubles. She told him that he should not feel ashamed of himself, and that the ones who ought to be the most ashamed are the ones who made him feel that he had to be another person to gain acceptance. She then brought him to the home of a doctor, explained the situation, and taxed the doctor with looking out for Silvamaru’s mental health.

Eventually, after a long period of self-reflection and working on his mental health, Silvamaru made the startling discovery that the emotion of Cringe could be used as a source of magical power. He then developed his own technique and philosophy for wielding this power effectively. This power made him a powerful solo-combatant and surprisingly subtle infiltration expert. He named this power Crinjutsu. He primarily used his newfound power in service of defending his village from brigands, warlords, and other outside threats.

As he grew older and his body could no longer keep up with his demanding job, he retired from ninja work and began instructing several disciples in the art of Crinjutsu. Eventually he committed his teachings to writing in a huge scroll called “Way of the Crinja”.

The first chapters of Way of the Crinja are dedicated purely to the philosophy of Crinjutsu. He writes that one cannot truly master the Crinja Way without first accepting yourself, accepting others, and riding one’s self of selfish pride. Only then can one master the magical techniques of Crinjutsu, as well as reach true joy and peace.

This philosophy is now held widely by the majority of people who live among the islands of Trashlandia’s eastern seas.

A mastery of Crinjutsu is seen as proof of one’s moral character, thus all leaders, from the Grand Kage to the Cheif of the smallest village, are expected to display skill in Crinjutsu to even be considered for office.

Since acceptance is the highest virtue of a Crinja, the people brought up in Crinja culture are exceedingly individualistic in personal expression, yet also United under their common belief system. The Crinja tolerate nearly anything, except of course for intolerance, which they are quick to stamp out on sight. They tend to be suspicious of those who do not adhere to Crinja ideals, and although they respect Trashlandia as a kind and moral person worthy of respect, they do not worship her as a goddess. In fact they often distrust those who DO worship her.

The majority of Crinja are descended from abandoned ninja-OCs or anime-OCs of various kinds. Most (but not all) are humanoid, and speak a dialect of Trashlandic that incorporates many Japanese words, idioms, and honorifics. Their clothing styles run the gambit from purely practical to completely ridiculous.

-TQ

[chainofclovers]

Grace and Frankie 7x1 - 7x4 thoughts

Meh? Like...I love them so much, but...meh?

(I did enjoy this line about brunch.)

I really loved season 6 of Grace and Frankie. I thought it was well-paced, largely very well-acted, generally well-written, and it culminated in a massive moment of character development for the title characters, who, having spent years growing closer and being there for each other when others could not or would not be, finally articulate to each other that they are the primary person in each other’s lives. Platonic gal pal soulmate BFF emotional support witches 4 lyfe!

I know progress isn’t always linear, and in fact is very rarely linear, but after a moment that significant, you’d think the writers on this show would maybe come up with some more interesting things for these characters to do than spin in circles?

@bristler and I watched on Friday night, and just this morning over breakfast had a good conversation about the first four episodes of the new season now that they have settled in our brains a bit. We concluded that the writing (often noticeably clunky, like the dialogue is responsible for more narration than usual) and the tone (aggressively wacky) feel really off, especially compared to the prior season. I think we diagnosed the big issue, which is that Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda are by far the most talented actors on this show (if you disagree, fight me in the parking lot) and it feels surprisingly unfortunate that their characters have, to this point in the new season, pretty much figured out their perspectives on each other. No matter how people feel about Grace and Frankie’s sexualities, the whole show has been about them finding each other and getting in deeper and deeper, and it’s less interesting to watch other characters have realizations about that than it is to watch Grace and Frankie having realizations about themselves. If the title characters are now limited to reacting to other people’s actions, and the title characters are played by the best actors on the show, the whole show’s gonna suffer. And is suffering, very much so, at least for these first four episodes. I’m definitely still excited for the final twelve in 2022 (twelve! I cannot believe this season will have sixteen eps!), but I’m pretty disappointed so far.

Stuff I Loved:

The family brunch. These families have been entwined for so long, and the backstory for this particular brunch was so fun (even though I didn’t care for the effects they did to depict Grace and Robert 25 years ago; there was no need for a visual flashback in the scene). I love that Grace hit Frankie with a wiffle ball bat. I love that the two couples realized some of the emotional reasons behind their decisions to lie to each other about Bud’s Bunny and about M’Challah. I love the way Jane Fonda sounds uttering the phrase “Bud’s Bunny” with little to no irony. I love that Grace is able to recognize and articulate just how deep and miserable her anger issues were, albeit with the continued help of her omnipresent martini, and that Frankie told her she’d now make up a holiday in order to spend more time with Grace. I really, really hope Frankie does exactly this at some point in the remaining episodes of the season. I love that Grace is generally a pretty good person now, with aspirations of being a delightful person. I love that she and Frankie don’t have it in them to stay angry with each other, and I love all the evidence that they really, really talk to each other about everything now.

Frankie talking to the man at the office (I don’t remember who he was supposed to be? A toilet manufacturer? I didn’t mention this before, but I actually got pretty high while watching?!? Believe it or not, this was the first time I smoked pot and watched Grace and Frankie at the same time despite having enjoyed both activities on their own for quite some time. I would recommend the combo! And I think I still pretty much got what was happening) about paying for the toilet parts with candy. This whole subplot with the money laundering was absurd and not that interesting, but I loved this particular scene because it was finally evidence of some really thoughtful writing. The concepts aren’t enough! You have to write them into good dialogue! And the whole cash/candy thing was a moment of dialogue that only someone as hilarious as Lily Tomlin could pull off. Which she did, IMO.

In a show about super messy people, Coyote has stayed sober this entire time. He is sober, employed, in love, and preparing to buy a full-sized house with his partner. He hasn’t murdered anyone in his family. Hasn’t even attempted murder once.

In 2017 or whatever, Grace Hanson would have been furious about Frankie using obscure Beatles references like a treasure map when hiding the cash. But here in 2021, she cooperates and even gets in on the fun. The writing is very unsubtle this season, but that did feel like a reasonably subtle moment that shows how good of a partner she is for Frankie. (Platonic, of course! So platonic. Female friendship, amirite?)

Stuff I Did NOT Love and Felt Incredibly Negative About:

Brianna. I can only conclude that June Diane Raphael has decided she’s happy with playing a character whose primary role in life is to be hot and mean. She succeeds at being hot and mean, but I have reached my limit with this character. I realize we’re only a quarter of the way into the season, but I don’t think I can take another arc about her learning to compromise only to reveal to Barry that she never intended to compromise at all. At this point, it’s both abusive and boring. How?! The Grace/Brianna parallels aren’t interesting anymore, because one character has grown and the other is stagnant. I get that Brianna was raised in an emotionally stilted environment by two unhealthy people. But I think it would be very cool if she could learn something from her mother at this point. Grace has put a ton of effort into dealing with her “rabbit-killing, mad-at-the-world anger.” She’s put a ton of effort into figuring out what makes her happy, what she wants her life to look like. She’s even started accepting her age and abilities without shame. And that growth is believable; Grace is still short-tempered and she still slugs back way too many martinis and she struggles to articulate certain things, but she’s grown into a truly lovely human. And while, as a daughter with a mother, I can absolutely attest to the fact that it can be difficult and uncomfortable to learn lessons from one’s mother, Brianna really, really should. Grace spent decades letting anger and shame trap her in a small, miserable life. Brianna—and even Mallory, who just seems like a vapid idiot this season—are traveling that same path, but there’s someone right there who could really help, maybe even more than Frankie helped when the Hanson girls were first growing up.

The arraignment. The scene might’ve been salvageable if it was filmed from Grace’s perspective, and filmed to reflect how surreal and improbable it all was. But speaking of non-linear progress, this scene erased everything Nick Skolka has done to put himself in my good graces (LOL) over the past couple seasons. I mean, I tried, man. I even wrote fic about Nick, Grace, and Frankie making a genuine effort at polyamory. But the arraignment is so emotionally manipulative, such a slap in the face of everything Grace has worked for, and while we’re certainly “supposed” to feel the weight of the moment, I mean, it’s not like we’re supposed to be like, “Oh, cool, we’re in a rom com now! This is adorable!” it still felt bad and unearned and slapdash.

And I want Frankie to process these things with her! Frankie seems so happy to have all this information about Grace and how Grace feels, but I want to see scenes in which we can gain an understanding of how Frankie actually feels. Hearing Frankie talk to other people about how Grace feels is interesting, but it’s like there’s no room in these episodes for us to learn anything new about Frankie herself.

Grace’s transitional wig. Is so. Bad. It is. Such a. Bad wig. Oof. I mean, I like what they’re doing with Grace’s hair from a plot perspective, although (see one bullet up) I would really like to get more of an understanding of what’s happening in Grace’s head, not just on top of her head. And gosh, Frankie would be a really good person to talk to about this in a conversation that lasts longer than 30 seconds. But the wig! She’s in a wig in all four episodes, of course, since Jane Fonda went grey and cut her hair short before they started filming this season. The wig for episodes 1 and 2 is fine; it’s a good approximation of Grace’s typical hair, and of course we know that canonically Grace’s hair isn’t 100% her own hair anyway. But the wig with grey roots looks so weird. The part that’s growing out doesn’t look the same as the hair on the wig from 1 and 2. And the grey roots look like a yarmulke. I cannot wait to get to the point in the season when Grace goes all the way grey.

(One more thing about the hair. I can’t let it go. I paused the show while we were watching to rant, but I’m not done.) I had the great privilege of seeing Jane Fonda in person at a protest in 2019. She is an insanely beautiful human. She was growing her hair out and it was partially dyed blonde and partially grey. It looked really cool. I am not ashamed to say I spent that day learning many things about the climate crisis and about Jane Fonda’s hair. Having seen her in real life with her real hair looking that fucking great, I just have a an extra-large grudge against everyone involved in that horrible wig. The wig is necessary, but it didn’t have to be this bad.

What Do I Care About Now?

I am pretty intrigued by the way Grace threw out her real age in a conversation with Nick and Elena. She has nothing to fear anymore! She’s so chill about aging! What could go wrong? I assume that Nick and Elena maneuvering for Nick to be on house arrest in Grace's house specifically has to do with the fact that Grace is 82. She’s gonna find out that Nick is allowed to be with her because she’s ancient and helpless and the court took pity. Or something like that. She’s going to feel betrayed on top of feeling stifled and overwhelmed by Nick’s presence. I want to see where this goes for sure.

Other than that, and other than the fact that I really do continue to believe this show is moving in a direction in which Grace and Frankie will choose each other, I feel very whatever about this whole thing. I love this show and I will always appreciate this show for giving me some incredible characters to spend years of my life writing about, and for bringing me some pretty amazing friendships. Speaking of those friendships, yesterday @ellydash and @telanu and I were talking about some of the incredible TV we’ve watched recently, like Ted Lasso and Hacks and Fleabag and Killing Eve, and how great it feels to watch beautifully written TV crafted by writers who are profoundly—organically yet intentionally—attuned to even the most minor character’s rhythm. The disappointment of these first few episodes of the new G&F season feels like a mild disappointment rather than a sharp heartbreak, and that has a lot to do with being deeply invested in other shows that could also go in all kinds of different directions but with writing I fundamentally trust.

Also Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin are my forever faves and my appreciation for their performances and general awesomeness onscreen and in life is undiminished. So that’s pretty cool.

[hephaestuscrew]

Minkowski's Position as Commander: An Attempted Analysis

TLDR: Increasingly as the show progresses, Minkowski's role as Commanding Officer of the Hephaestus is not about the position given her by Goddard but is instead about a choice that she and her crew continually make.

At the start of the series, Minkowski very much believes that she derives her authority from the position given her by Goddard Futuristics. It's clear that this military chain of command is really important to her. For example, when Hilbert attempts to leave Minkowski to die in space, the main thing she says to try to persuade him to let her in is:

This is treason. This is a betrayal of your commanding officer.

[CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT]

It's quite revealing that Minkowski thinks that military protocol / her role as Commanding Officer provides the most powerful reason for Hilbert not to kill her, even though he has known her for nearly two years and they have generally been on quasi-friendly terms.

After Hilbert's Christmas mutiny (and to a certain extent even before that), the Hephaestus crew know that Command cannot be trusted. The authority that initially conferred a position of power onto Minkowski has lied to them all and is actively malicious. So past that point, Minkowski's status as Commander isn't really determined by the fact that Goddard Futuristics gave her that position, because the crew have no reason to obey Goddard anymore. The basis of her authority no longer comes from Goddard, but more from a kind of unspoken agreement that someone needs to be in charge and it ought to be her. As rebellious as Eiffel and Hera both are, neither of them actually question Minkowski's status as Commanding Officer. It's true that they often don't obey her orders, but when they go against what she's said, it is with a conscious sense that they are disobeying not just another crew member, but their commanding officer.

The next major wrench to be thrown at Minkowski's Commander status is the arrival of Lovelace, who is arguably more qualified to be Commander than Minkowski. Not only has Lovelace commanded the Hephaestus herself (and for a longer period of time than Minkowski has), her title of Captain outranks Minkowski's title of Lieutenant. In Lovelace and Minkowski's power struggle after Lovelace's arrival, they are both coming from a perspective of "I was here first". Lovelace commanded that ship first, but Minkowski commanded that crew first and that ultimately gives her more power. Minkowski remains the Commander of the Hephaestus because the crew know her and trust her.

Eventually Lovelace comes to trust Minkowski too and to view her as the rightful Commander of the Hephaestus. In S3 and S4, she often backs up Minkowski's authority and tells the others that they ought to follow Minkowski's orders.

When Kepler shows up, there's a new official Commanding Officer of the Hephaestus. The si-5 declare that Minkowski is stripped of the title of Commander. Of course, I couldn't write this post without mentioning this iconic exchange:

EIFFEL I'm glad to see you too, Commander.

MINKOWSKI You heard the new boss, you don't need to call me that anymore.

EIFFEL Uh, yeah, they can go screw themselves. The entire universe will freeze before you're not the Commander of the Hephaestus.

Minkowski is ready to accept that she's no longer the Commander, because a part of her still thinks leadership is determined by the official chain of command. But Eiffel doesn't accept that. And he's not the only one who still acknowledges Minkowski as leader despite the arrival of the SI-5. Although her programming prevents her from addressing Minkowski as Commander, Hera believes that:

Lieutenant Minkowski's still the one who gives the marching orders.

Throughout Season 3, there's the sense of a crew-within-a-crew on the Hephaestus. Sure, Kepler is officially the overall commanding officer, but to Eiffel, Hera, Lovelace and even Hilbert to a certain extent, Minkowski is their true leader. Even though Lovelace and Hilbert do go behind Minkowski's back, they still seem to have a sense that a mutiny ought to have her Say So.

Another interesting element is that, in the eyes of Command, Minkowski was never the highest ranking crew member on the Hephaestus. Kepler confirms this in Ep48 when he says that the "Highest ranking member of each crew was briefed on the possibility" of a Theta scenario and that for both Hephaestus missions that was Hilbert. To Goddard Futuristics, Minkowski was the Commander in name only.

The Hephaestus crew (by which I mean everyone except the si-5) treat leadership as something official and codified, but not as something conferred by external authority. They follow a policy where one person has to be clearly designated as the Commander, but where Goddard Futuristics does not determine who that person is. This approach is displayed in Ep47 when Minkowski asks Lovelace to take over command of the Hephaestus. Minkowski's status as Commander is proved to have been a choice, because she can also choose not to be Commander. This choice is a personal one. There's no military protocol involved, just a discussion between two friends and the handing over of a title.

It's also worth noting Lovelace's reluctance to take over the role of commanding officer and her insistence that this is a temporary arrangement. Her reaction demonstrates how much she has come to see Minkowski as the rightful Commander. S2 Lovelace would have responded very differently.

When Minkowski becomes Commander again in Ep53, she has another conversation which reveals a lot about her attitude towards leadership. I'm just going to put the whole long quote here because I think it's all very relevant to what I've been talking about:

MINKOWSKI It's just... there's been all these times when somebody put me in situation where I was "in charge," but I wasn't... in control. I can't think of a decision in my life that wasn't already determined by someone else. But... even then, there was always a choice. I always made it. Even when I didn't realize I was making it. So now... I think I need to make choices by myself. For myself.

LOVELACE Aaaaand does that mean you're perhaps ready to take command of a certain space station again?...

MINKOWSKI No. Because I've never been in command, I can't retake it. But, if you'll allow me, sir, I would be honored to relieve you of your duties, and assume command of the U.S.S. Hephaestus Station.

Lovelace SMILES, and salutes Minkowski.

LOVELACE About friggin' time, sir.

Here it's made explicit that the question of Minkowski's status as Commander is tied into themes of choice and responsibility and control over one's own life. Minkowski recognises that her starting the Hephaestus mission as Commander was a choice made for her by Goddard (this is especially true because Minkowski applied to be just a Navigations Officer, not a Commander). Her continuing to be Commander was a choice, but it didn't feel like one to her at the time. To some extent, it was a choice she made passively (although I think her crew actively chose to follow her).

This conversation shows how Minkowski's view of leadership has changed dramatically. At the beginning of the series, she probably would have said that Goddard's choice to designate her Commander was what made her a Commander. She probably would have said that was how leadership ought to be determined. But by Ep53, she no longer wants to be dependent on the decisions of others to decide her role. Being Commander is not only a choice, it is now a choice she makes consciously and independently. She doesn't really have any more control over their circumstances when she retakes command in Ep53 than she did before handing over command in Ep47. Nonetheless her decision to make active choices for herself is still a significant one, because it reflects a paradigm shift.

Of course, there is some cruel irony in the fact that very soon after this conversation Minkowski is put under Pryce's mind control. Sometimes the choice to take control of our lives is taken away. Notably though, Eiffel still calls her Commander when she's not even able to command her own actions. And when she does regain her autonomy, she automatically assumes command of a new crew-within-a-crew (Eiffel, Hera, Lovelace, and Jacobi).

Cutter recognises how important Minkowski's role as Commander is to her. In the finale, he tells her:

People cared about you because of what I made you: A soldier. A leader. A commander. I gave you that

But I would argue that this isn't true. Yes, it was Cutter who initially gave Minkowski the title of "Commander", but that was never what made her a leader. Goddard never saw Minkowski as a leader. They saw her as a tool. She became a leader in her own right because she strived to do the right thing for her crew and because her crew trusted her to lead them.

For a final example of how important Minkowski's role as Commander is to her, here's what she says to reintroduce herself to Eiffel after the memory wipe:

Hi. My name is Renée Minkowski. I'm the Commander of this space station.

At this point, Minkowski knows that the space station in question is not going to exist for much longer. She knows its been a long time since Goddard would have said she was the Commanding Officer of the Hephaestus in any sense. And yet, the second thing she wants Eiffel to know about her is that she is the Commander. She asks him to call her Renée, but she still wants him to view her as a commanding officer. This makes sense when we recognise that the trust of her crew - and of Eiffel in particular - has been the essential foundation of her status as Commander after the foundation from Goddard fell away.

Throughout the course of Wolf 359, with the various revelations about Command and with the arrivals of Lovelace, the si-5 and eventually Cutter & Co., the official reasons to classify Minkowski as the Hephaestus' commanding officer are eroded. But Minkowski still ends the show as a Commander. She's the one who decides whether they are going to stay and try to stop Cutter's plan (the others recognise that it's up to her even when they disagree with her initial decision to leave without trying to fight Cutter). Lovelace calls her Commander even after the Hephaestus is gone. Minkowski represents the ship when speaking to Earthspace ATC. And she's the one who finally brings the crew home.

[ninma]

A look at Dream's punishment through irl rules and taking into account UN's rules regarding prisons. Because it is just interesting and it proves how there is NO justification for it. But mostly because it's interesting to look at and you may learn a thing or two.

I have seen too many times people trying to justify Dream's punishment. I did research and read through multiple articles and documents (over 73 pages of two different documents) about the more legal sides of his punishment. While Quackity's physical torture is obvious, I am here to address that even before that it was still very illegal. I know it is fictional! This is just a look into the real life facts and rules regarding prisons because it is interesting to look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of these. So keep that in mind while reading this!

Welcome to my ted talk with actual facts and be prepared for quite the ride!

While yes, he has done bad things...however he has not done something so bad that he deserves a punishment so cruel that it's considered too inhumane for even mass murderers. Like actually! Stay tooned and you'll see what I mean.

His sentence is indefinite solidary confinement. Which is defined by the united nations as:

"the confinement of prisoners for 22 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact."

This means his punishment fits the definition for all his time (including visits) except when Tommy was locked inn and now with Quackity (although I'd consider the last one a turn for the worse). Now that we have that cleared up- lets get into the rule breaking. But first, let me introduce you to The Mandela Rules!

"The Mandela Rules reinforce human rights principles, including

 the recognition of the absolute prohibition of torture and other cruel, inhuman

 or degrading treatment or punishment and effective guidance 

to national prison administrations for persons deprived of their liberty"

Now that we have established that, lets get into this concerning fact train!

Rule 43

1. In no circumstances may restrictions or disciplinary sanctions amount to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.

The following practices, in particular, shall be prohibited:

(a) Indefinite solitary confinement;

(b) Prolonged solitary confinement;

(c) Placement of a prisoner in a dark or constantly lit cell;

(d) Corporal punishment or the reduction of a prisoner’s diet or drinking water;

(e) Collective punishment.

Yeah...pretty clear breaking of 4/5 there. They can't even break e! Not to mention the pretty explicit breaking of d that was probably a surprise. You can count it as them breaking 4/4 if you count the fact that they can’t even break e. Rest assured my friend, this is just the beginning.

Rule 44

For the purpose of these rules, solitary confinement shall refer to the confinement of prisoners for 22

 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact. Prolonged solitary confinement shall refer to 

solitary confinement for a time period in excess of 15 consecutive days.

Already broken this one too huh. Even visiting days counts because I don't think anyone has been there for hours and I also don't think Sam's interactions would be long enough or count as meaningful human contact. The time with Tommy and Quackity is the only time it dosen't count as solidary. So this is getting...very much concerinng. But this is still only the start.

Rule 45

1. Solitary confinement shall be used only in exceptional cases as a last

 resort*, for as* short a time as possible and subject to independent

 review, and only pursuant to the authorization by a competent authority. It

 shall not be imposed by virtue of a prisoner’s sentence.

2. The imposition of solitary confinement should be prohibited in the case

 of prisoners with mental or physical disabilities when their conditions

 would be exacerbated by such measures

Woops...so not only is it illegal as a punishment...but also the "he is a psychopath" argument (which is already a bad stereotype, but I won't get into psychology here. It's a common misconception and c!Tommy not knowing is almost to be expected. However please do not say that someone, character or real person, have a mental disorder or illness without proper knowledge about psychology and in the case of characters we shouldn’t put labels unless the writer has said that they have taken mental disorders or illnesses into account when making the character) just got yeeted out the window. Actually that argument just took a loop and now is an argument for the other side. It makes sense because as it says: it exacerbates their preexisting mental illnesses. Which is why it's prohibited. 

"In no case may a detainee’s contact with the outside world be

 dependent on his or her cooperativeness, be used as a disciplinary

 sanction or form part of the sentence."

  - Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, Civil and Political Rights, Including the Questions of Torture and Detention, ¶ 43, Comm’n on Human Rights,

“…The medical officer should visit prisoners held in solitary confinement

 every day, on the understanding that such visits should be in the interests

 of the prisoners ’ health. Furthermore, prisoners held in solitary

 confinement for more than 12 hours should have access to fresh air for at

 least 1 hour each day” - Subcomm. on Prevention of Torture [SPT]

Wow Sam...it is almost impressive in a dark way just how explicitly these are broken. The Warden's very punishments for disobedience just straight up counts as torture. And for the obvious record I highly doubt Quackity's daily visits to the green bloob counts as anything but 'the interests of the prisoners' health'. You can disagree here...but I am being very sarcastic.

Rule 22

1. Every prisoner shall be provided by the prison administration at the

usual hours with food of nutritional value adequate for health and

strength, of wholesome quality and well prepared and served.

Raw potatoes every day for the rest of your life..eehhh no thanks. If Dream ever gets out he will probably join me in the 'eating potatoes trauma' box. As funny as that sounds, it isn't a joke. I was force fed potatoes as a child and I hated it to the point where it gave me a mental block that stops me from eating them as my body just does not want to swallow it. It's a problem. But I can joke about it. Maybe Tommy will join us too, although it wasn't really the eating potatoes that caused that trauma...rip. Rest in anything but potatoes.

Rule 42

General living conditions addressed in these rules, including those related

to light, ventilation, temperature, sanitation, nutrition, drinking water,

access to open air and physical exercise, personal hygiene, health care

and adequate personal space, shall apply to all prisoners without

 exception.

I think it's pointless to say more on that topic as it's pretty much already summed up. Let us now move over to what are probably some of the qoutes so specific that it's scary.

“Furthermore, [the Committee] is concerned about the use of solitary

 confinement for indefinite periods of time.... Full isolation of 22 to 23

 hours a day in supermaximum security prisons is unacceptable

(art. 16).” - Committee. against Torture [CAT]

Oh wow.. talk about on the nose. I should've just started with this one as it pretty much says pretty clearly how it is unacceptable. Like yikes...can you get more specific? It is just downright ridiculous at this point. (-_-;)

“Solitary confinement, when used for the purpose of punishment,

 cannot be justified for any reason, precisely because it imposes severe

 mental pain and suffering beyond any reasonable retribution for

 criminal behaviour and thus constitutes an act defined in article 1 or article

 16 of the Convention against Torture, and a breach of article 7 of the

 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights."

Ahaha...ha....yeah for those who justify it...the convention against torture is very much against it being justified...Imagine if the characters could read these rules, that'd be interesting. Although I am pretty sure they don't follow realism for the imprisonment. As I have already said; this is just an interesting look at the irl rules and how Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault stand under light of them.

“No prisoner, including those serving life sentence [sic] and prisoners on

 death row, shall be held in solitary confinement merely because of the

 gravity of the crime.”

 - Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment

Like...there are no loopholes here. It is so extremely clear that it truly is darkly impressive how the characters don't seem to have a second thought about this. How do you accidentally sentence someone to a lifetime of torture without realizing? If they do know...It'd be very dark.

Btw Tommy's exile and his time in prison doesn't count as solidary confinement. Just to clear that up.

It amazes me how badly they break these rules...I know they probably didn't take the realism into consideration. However it is still kind of darkly impressive. Especially considering how scary specific they break them too. Even though this is just a interesting (I was about to write fun, however I wouldn't count realizing how inhuman the prison is is 'fun'. But it is interesting) look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of real life rules for prisons. (lol my paranoid self have said this so much)

These facts also proves how saying it's justified...is kind of morally bad. Not attacking anyone! I just want to also say how while it is pure fiction and the characters in the story can have whatever opinion they want as they are characters. However when it comes to fans approving and justifying it without taking time to consider how it really isn't something that can be justified (real or no). You can have whatever opinion you want, however just maybe take some of what you have learned today and reflect over it? To think twice after having received new information dosen't hurt. I am not here to tell you what to think, so rest easy. Only to share some facts^^ (*so obviously scared of offending anyone*)

I recommend taking some time to look it up yourself if you want to look further into it. The psychological aspects of it is also interesting to look at!

I hope you have learned something here today and found this post and my research interesting! I spent hours on this so I hope you have enjoyed this! I originally posted this on reddit and I was very surprised at how many stopped by to read it and therefore I choose to post it here as well because you learn something and hopefully also gained a new perspective. 

Ninma over and out!