#that last paragraph My bad

[wreckedandpolemic]

bad idea right? - matty healy

(mdni) in which calling matty up is a really, really bad idea. but that’s never stopped you before, and it’s not about to start. part of the regret me universe. 3895 words.

warnings: mean dom matty, degradation, oral (m receiving), mild praise, impact play (riding crop), slight overstimulation, toxic codependent losers who won’t admit their feelings

You and Matty haven’t spoken in nearly five months when you call. You’re never the one to break no-contact, so you can hear his concern when he picks up. “Hello?” he says, low and sleep-thick. “It’s the middle of the fuckin’ night. What’s wrong?”

“I need you,” you rush out, helpless. “Can’t stop thinking about you. S’been too long, Matty.”

Matty groans. “You think you can just fuckin’ call me up when you get needy, like you didn’t fuck my life on purpose and then ditch me? Think you can pretend you haven’t been fucking me about for six fucking years? D’you actually think I’m that fuckin’ pathetic?”

He’s angry, you realise with a jolt. The low, dangerous tone of his voice wraps around your brain, melting stickily between your thighs. “Not if you don’t wanna be,” you say, your teasing pout audible. “I need fucked, Matty. You’re the only one who can fuck me right, and we both know it,” you say, letting a soft moan slip past your lips as you circle your clit.

“Are you seriously getting off right now?” he laughs disbelievingly. “Jesus, y’so fuckin’ needy. Such a whore. You want my cock so bad, darling? Beg for it.”

Without missing a beat, your lust-sick brain spills dazed, filthy words from your lips. “C’mon, Matty, please. I need you. Need you to fuck me like you mean it, like you hate me. I don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done with me,” you moan, grinding the heel of your palm against your clit as you finger yourself, slick sounds echoing down the phone. “M’so fuckin’ wet, you could just stuff me full right now. Could just use me as your little cumdump, take what you need from me and leave. I’d even say thank you,” you add, and you can practically hear his control snap.

“I’ll be there in half an hour. You’re not gonna like what I do if you cum before I get there.”

You laugh, breaking into a moan as you curl your fingers perfectly. “You know I will.”

True to his word, Matty’s letting himself into your flat less than an hour later. By which time you’ve already cum once and are happily bringing yourself to a second. A sick relief floods your body the second your gaze lands on him, and you pull your fingers out of yourself to wave at him with a smirk. “I hope that was worth it, you little whore,” he snaps, shrugging out of his jacket. “Come here, on your knees, now. Don’t fuckin’ mess me about.”

His tone is heady and dark and dominant, dizzying as it slides over your body. “And what if I don’t?” you smirk. “Are you gonna turn around and leave? You already came all this way,” you tease. You’re only bratting for bratting’s sake, seeing how many of Matty’s buttons you can push before he explodes.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Matty scoffs. “If you don’t behave in the next five fucking seconds, I’m going to make the next three days hell for you.”

“Three days?”

Matty smirks. “You didn’t think I was just gonna fuck you and leave, did you? Nah. You wanted me here so badly, called me after months, dragged me out of bed at fuckin’ two AM ‘cause you need me?” He drags out the words in a mocking affect of your voice. “Well, you got your wish, darling. We need to make up for lost time, right? So, if you wanna even think about cumming on my cock, get on your fucking knees.”

This time, you obey, the hardwood of your floor digging into your knees, the pain somehow at once grounding and preternatural. You slide your palms up his thighs, gently mouthing at his cock through his jeans. Your mouth is practically watering as you reach for his belt buckle, choking on your whine of his name when he stills your hands. “You still have your cuffs?” Matty asks. You nod. “Good.” He retrieves them, fastening your hands behind your back and testing the fit. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah, feels good, Matty, c’mon,” you whine. “M’sorry, I wanna cum f’you, let me suck you off, please,” you whimper.

Matty laughs cruelly. “You think you deserve my cock? Gonna make you work for it, baby,” he warns, and you just moan, denim rough across your tongue as you lick obscenely at the seam of his jeans. “Needy girl, Christ. You want fucked? Kiss my boots and beg to suck my dick.”

You freeze, humiliation tingling deliciously between your thighs. “I—”

Blunt nails dig into your jaw as Matty forces your gaze to his. “You heard me. C’mon, darling, I know you can do it.” Slowly, like every movement is an agony, you bend until you’re practically prostrating yourself in front of Matty. “D’you remember these shoes, baby? Remember riding my boot ‘til you came all over it? How you were whinin’ and beggin’ like a fucking whore?”

Of course you fucking do. You’re violently flashed back to that night, to the grapple for control, before either of you knew what your relationship would spiral into. You lean in, hating yourself more and more every second even as wetness pools between your thighs, and press a kiss to the leather. You swear you can faintly taste your own arousal.

“Good girl,” Matty murmurs as your lips rove over his boot, kissing along his ankle before you kneel up to gaze at him, head swimming with submission. He raises an eyebrow as if to say go on.

“God, Matty, I need you,” you moan. “Need to suck your cock, want you to fuck my face, please. Wanna feel you, wanna taste you, need you to cum in my mouth, baby. Need to be your cumdump. Just use me, please,” you whine, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Matty laughs cruelly, freeing his cock and groaning softly as it thuds against his belly. “Open,” he says, soft and almost gentle, hooking a thumb into your mouth and prising it open. You wait, eager, eyes slipped shut and tongue lolling out of your mouth, wanton heat licking up your thighs. A harsh smack of skin on skin makes you gasp, and you open your eyes to realise your cheek is wet and sticky with precum and the sudden sting against your skin is from Matty slapping his cock against your fucking face.

Before you can sputter out a response, Matty’s sliding a hand into your hair and fucking your mouth hard. You moan around him, clinging to his hips as he pours dirty praise into the air above you. “That’s it, good girl. You feel so good, baby. Missed this filthy little mouth. So much sweeter when you’re gagging around me, huh?” You’re powerless, the weight of the cuffs around your wrists and Matty’s hand tight in your hair the only thing keeping you tethered to your body. Tears blur your vision, Matty’s moans loud and obscene above you as you swallow a gag.

You’re barely even giving a blowjob, just letting him fuck your face like a toy and grinding your hips down against nothing. Your cunt is pleading for attention, wrists straining against the cuffs as Matty laughs mockingly. “Needy girl. C’mon, darling, make me cum and you’ll get what you want, promise.” You redouble your efforts, leaning in until your nose is buried in the hair at his base and swallowing around him. You’re trying desperately not to inhale deeply, breathe in the smell of his sweat like you could trap him in your lungs. 

Matty’s fucking you brutally, angrily, and you know you’ll be hoarse for hours when he lets you go. His pace stutters, his breath quickening and you know he’s close. You slide your tongue against the vein on his underside, humming and whining around him. “Shit, m’right there, baby. Fuck, m’gonna cum, shit,” he whines, pulling almost all the way off you so his cum lands on your tongue. The salt of it overwhelms your senses, moaning low in your throat as his cock pulses against your tongue. “Open,” he orders again, and you obey thoughtlessly, letting strings of his cum drip against your chest. “Fuck, makin’ such a mess, darling,” Matty groans, bending low so he can look into your eyes. Before you can even process, a wad of spit lands on your tongue and he’s forcing your mouth closed.

You swallow, slow and deliberate, savouring the messy slide of spit and cum down your throat. “Thank you,” you breathe, voice scratchy.

Matty grins wickedly. “Good girl.” He nudges you to your feet and onto the bed, falling on top of you and kissing you greedily. Ever filthy, he licks into your mouth like he could catch the lingering taste of his cum on your tongue. “What do you need, darling?” 

Gasping for breath, you fight for the words. “You,” you groan. “Anything you want, I’ll take it. Just need you, Matty.” He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty says, shockingly tender. “Has it really been that long since you got fucked right?” You whine as his fingers find your swollen clit, a jolt of electricity shooting up your spine. You nod, swallowing hard as you meet his intense gaze. “How much work have I gotta do? How many pathetic fucks do I need to make you forget?”

“Too many,” you say, arching desperately up into his touch. “Haven’t cum with a guy in over a month. Had to get myself off after they left. Thought about you every— mmm— every fuckin’ time, how you’d be— fuck— be fucking me so much better, wishing I was goin’ dumb on your— shit, yes— on your cock.”

Matty grins wickedly, sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt. “Did you call my name?” He starts a slow, mean pace, your cunt clenching wantonly around him.

“You know I did. I can’t fuckin’ cum without thinking of you. You fuckin’ broke me. C’mon, harder!” Your back arches, chest heaving. Matty’s eyes fall to your tits, one hand coming up to tug harshly on your piercing. 

“You think you can give me orders right now? Be a good girl and shut up, yeah?” Your jaw snaps closed almost comically fast, teeth clacking together so hard the sound rattles through your brain. “You broke me too,” Matty says, so quietly that you don’t think he realises he’s spoken. He slides his fingers out of you, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to suppress a whine. He grins approvingly. “Here’s what’s going to happen, darling,” Matty says, pausing to suck his fingers into his mouth and clean your arousal off his skin. “You’re going to ride my cock until you cum like you’re fucking gagging for, and then you’re gonna let me do whatever I want, okay?”

Hopelessly turned on, you choke out an answer and let Matty flip you so you’re straddling him. Your eyes roll back into your head as you sink down on him, pure desire cascading down your spine. “Matty, I—”

“Didn’t say you could talk, did I?” Matty scoffs, digging his fingers into your hips to still you. “M’not gonna help you, either. Are you gonna be good, darling? Gonna fuck yourself on my cock like a slut?”

Nodding frantically, you grind your clit against his stomach and soaking up the pleasure that seeps from every point his body meets yours. You lift up onto your knees and slam back down, a whining scream tearing from your throat at the burn between your thighs. “Shit, y’feel so good, Matty. Missed this. Missed you,” you groan, digging your nails into his chest and rolling your hips desperately.

Matty grins lazily up at you, arms propped insouciantly behind his head. He looks so relaxed, it’s almost as if you aren’t there at all, except that he can’t hide the red flush creeping up his cheeks and down his chest. You must look even more wanton by comparison, hair plastered to your sweat-slick skin and soaked cunt dripping around him. “Keep going, baby. You can do it, c’mon.” The degradation slides sweetly around your brain, melting your thoughts until all you know is Matty.

You realise suddenly that your nails are scratching a pattern into Matty’s skin, the same shapes over and over again. Mine. Mine. Mine. Your knees are starting to ache, thighs burning as you ride him, but the idea of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind. Liquid heat thrums in your veins, burning you up from the inside out. Whining his name helplessly, you clench around him, driving your hips down so you can feel every inch. You tip your head back, arching your chest towards Matty and watching his gaze fall to your tits. “You look so pretty up there, darling. You wanna tell me how you feel?”

“Feels s’fucking good, Matty. Been dreaming about your cock for months, baby. Nobody fuckin’ gets me off like you. Wish it could be like this all the time,” you add, barely processing the admission as it slips from your lips, pinching and toying with your piercing with your free hand. Your hips roll, waves of pleasure crashing over you, battering you viciously.

“So desperate, love. Such a slut,” Matty groans, digging his nails into your hips and fighting not to thrust up into you. “Getting close, aren’t you?” He laughs. “Yeah, I can feel you gettin’ all tight around me. You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna fuckin’ soak my cock like a good girl?” You give a strangled moan, your hand falling to rub frantic circles over your wet clit. Your vision goes blurry, your entire world a haze as Matty draws sharply into focus, his chest heaving and angry marks across his skin. 

Your orgasm slams into you breathlessly, crushing the air out of your lungs as you writhe on top of him. Arousal floods out of you, soaking the sheets under you. Your thighs burn, pleasure shooting up your spine and hammering in the base of your skull. Cunt pulsing, your body goes heavy, slumping as you climb off him. “Thank you,” you murmur, relaxing a little with your body splayed out beside him. “M’ready. M’yours. Whatever you want.”

Matty’s answering smirk is nothing short of cruel; darkly promising as you shiver happily. He climbs over you, straddles your waist, staring down at you with lust-dark eyes. He fists his cock, dripping precum and still wet with your arousal, and groans. “Missed having you like this, baby, all pathetic for me. Gonna look so pretty covered in my cum, God.”

Slick, wet sounds fill the room, your eyes glassy as you watch him. You stick your tongue out provocatively, sliding your hands up his thighs and digging your thumb into the divot in his hip. Matty’s thighs are trembling, lips wet as he breathes shakily over you. You lift your head a little to kitten-lick over his head, and it does him in. A groan of your name spills from his lips, ropes of cum splashing over your face and landing on your tongue. You swallow greedily, grinning blithely up at him as his chest heaves.

“Greedy girl,” he chastises, climbing off you. “Already had my dick in your mouth and your pussy like you begged for, and y’still wanted more, huh?” You nod, turning to hook a leg over Matty and gaze at his pretty, flushed face. “Did I say you could suck my dick?” He grabs your jaw punishingly, the pain spreading under your skin and falling straight to your swollen clit. “Words, baby.”

“N-no,” you stammer, choked through dizzying lust that clouds your brain.

Matty scoffs, shoving abruptly to his feet. “Little cumslut can’t behave herself. What d’you want, darling? Belt or paddle?” Your blood runs cold. That’s your trick; making him play an active role in his own destruction.

You squirm. “I, uh… Got something new. It’s in the, uh. The black box under my bed,” you murmur, flushing ruby-woo and hiding your face in your hands.

You know when Matty’s found it because he breathes sharply in, thwacks it against his palm to test it, scoffs disbelievingly. “S’this what you want, darling?” He traces the leather of the riding crop over your ass almost lovingly, anticipation humming so loud under your skin that it’s almost deafening.

“Yeah. Please.” You flush impossibly redder, squirming desperately.

“Filthy girl,” Matty coos, running his fingers over your ass and squeezing gently, like he’s soothing pain you haven’t felt yet. “You sure? It’s gonna hurt,” he warns.

“S’gonna hurt so good,” you groan, arching your back and pushing your ass up towards him. “Please, Matty. I don’t let anyone else have me like this, I couldn’t do this with anyone else. Wouldn’t trust them,” you confess, breathing laboured.

Matty leans down, brushes the hair off your neck, kisses the skin there. His lips are warm, the touch so tender you could almost believe it were loving. “God, you’re beautiful. Bein’ so good, baby, such a good girl for me.”

You whine. “Stop bein’ nice,” you snap. “If I wanted nice, I wouldn’t have called you. I know you hate me, so fuck me like it,” you say, gritting your teeth.

His answering laugh is low and cruel, sliding deliciously over your brain. “You want it mean, baby? Alright. You know what to say if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Dear fucking God. You’re this close to kicking your legs and pounding your fists. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, green for go, red for stop, I know how to fucking drive.”

Matty clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a bitch. On your knees, face down, ass up, and count,” he orders, and your cunt throbs in response.

“There he is,” you say smugly, moving deliberately slow just to frustrate him.

“Fucking move,” he snaps, gripping your hair and pressing your face into the mattress. “That’s better.” The sound of him shuffling around behind you feels impossibly loud, anticipation tingling in your cunt until— The pain of the leather meeting your ass is sharp, a stinging ache that bleeds into pleasure as it works under your skin.

“One,” you choke out. Matty delivers three more swift, brutal strikes, the pain shocking and new and fucking delicious. Obediently, you count along, sinking into subspace dazed and dizzy. Matty swats at your thighs, over the tattoo on your lower back, every inch of your ass until all you can feel is blinding, mind-wiping, divine pain. You keep counting until Matty hits your cunt, the bolt of sweet agony so instant that your legs give out, a noise of pure pleasure slipping from your lips.

Matty scoffs, grabbing your bruised flesh to shock you back into the present moment.  “Do you know how to fucking count?” he mocks, and you choke out something that sounds enough like the right number to satisfy him. “Still love getting hit there, huh? Slut,” he mutters, so bluntly callous that you wonder if he really means it.

“Love it,” you slur out, voice muffled against your sheets. “Love when you hurt me. Need it. Need you, all the fuckin’ time. Love—” You bite hard on your tongue to silence yourself. Blood pours into your mouth, a fitting punishment as it slides crimson down your throat.

“Yeah,” Matty says faintly. “Me too.” There’s a beat of silence, neither of you willing to acknowledge the words left unspoken, before Matty drags his fingers through your sore, aching cunt. “Look at the fucking state you’re in. Soaking fucking wet, I could just—” He leans down and spits on your cunt, smearing the mess across your swollen clit with his fingertips.

Your back arches involuntarily, pleasure-pain arcing viciously up your spine. Matty grips your hips harshly, digging five crescent moons of greedy desire into your skin, and slams into you hard. A choked whine of his name falls from your lips, one of his hands sliding up your body to grope your tit. You clench around him, vice-like, powerless under him.

“God, this pretty little pussy looks so pretty full of me, darling. All those other guys you fuck, and you always need me, huh? Always come crawling back. Such a fucking cockslut, baby.” You nod wildly, your brain melting into liquid that must be dripping from your ears and puddling on the mattress. “Shit, y’close already, huh? Go on, cum if you wanna, but I’m not gonna stop, okay?”

It’s like your body takes it as permission; your orgasm hits you like a freight train, crushing you under its weight. Your heart races, pure ecstasy crumpling your lungs and clenching in your chest. Your cunt throbs around Matty’s cock, still fucking you brutally deep.

Slick, obscene sounds fill the room, ringing impossibly loud off your walls, and you bury your face in the mattress to muffle your cries. “God, s’too much, Matty, I can’t take—”

“Are you safewording?” Matty interrupts, and you shake your head. “Then you can take it, darling, because I’m telling you to. Whatever I want, remember?” His hips slam against yours, heartbeat pulsing in your cunt with every deep, punishing thrust. “That’s it, baby, I know you can take it. God, you feel so fuckin’ good, m’so close, shit,” he hisses, pace stuttering as he moans your name, low and broken and almost pleading.

“C’mon, Matty, fuckin’ fill me up, make me yours, please,” you whine, arching your back and clenching around his cock until he’s spilling into you with a low groan. Matty fucks you through, cock pulsing and nails digging into your hips. When he finally pulls off you, he’s spent, hair plastered to his forehead and chest heaving with struggling breaths.

You flop down next to him, laughing deliriously and swiping two fingers through your sensitive cunt. The familiar taste hits your tongue, sweet as it slides down your throat, and you grin around your fingers. “See what happens when we don’t leave well enough alone? My ass feels like it’s on fire,” you laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“S’not my fault you bought a fuckin’ riding crop,” Matty says, disbelieving. “D’you want me to run us a bath?”

“Mmm, in a minute,” you say, burying your face in his chest and curling close to him. Your heart is still speeding, exhilarated, and all you want is to cling to Matty like an anchor until you drown in him. After a little while, he coaxes you into the bath, holds you until the water goes lukewarm, his hands gentle and tender in a way entirely reserved for these moments.

It’s mostly silent, words gone unsaid hanging in the air between you. You’re right on the cusp of drifting to sleep when Matty speaks. “I don’t, by the way. Hate you.” He pauses, like the words are a struggle to get out, a weight sitting heavy on his chest. “I could never hate you. I hate that I can’t hate you.” He huffs a quiet laugh. “I hate that you can call me in the middle of the night after taking a sledgehammer to my life and I’ll come running. I hate that I need you so much. But I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.”

You don’t answer.

[cisthoughtcrime]

.

[platoapproved]

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[triglycercule]

swapinverse posting rn,,,,, (WAKE UP UNTITLED29876011111 MY LISTENER I KNOW YOU GET NO SLEEP BUT SWAPINVERSE CRUMBS SWAPINVERSE CRUMBS PSPSPSPSPPSPSPS)

anyways currently reworking savior and godDAMN is he soooo,,,,,,, my boy i love my boy. why does he literally combine the melancholic vibe of dust and then whatever the hell killer's got going on in his lore. hes literally so sad and emo and depressed but also has a perfect amount of i-dont-care-ness and built in commands,,,,,, hes so PERFECT my vision of this modernized savior is soooo amazing,,,,, none of you will be ready trust (hyping myself up over nothing)

i think its because i'm finally starting to THINK about my character's,,,,,,, characters?????? like before they were just concepts. i think. like just IDEAS and now especially for savior i'm starting to actually analyze his character and see where things go from there,,,, its sooooo fun i love this sosososos much,,,, now let's see if this streak of analysis will carry on for the 2 i still need to finish finish (crash and vice.SER my glitchy fuckass sons)

google what is the symbolic representation for ribbons and ribbon dancing and silk acrobatics. google ANSWER ME

[lucaanis]

you see, the problem with writing is that it's just so much easier to imagine everything in my head. it writes itself in there

[edennill]

Have a conversation for my Númenor longfic, apparently.

"You hurt her — you made her bleed—" she stammers, and chides herself for saying inanities.

"I have made a thousand people — bleed, as you so politely put it, Zimraphel. If I was to list them all, we'd be sitting here untill next year."

"Leave," she says through clenched teeth.

"Try not to make any more enemies, will you? I'm a dangerous foe to have."

"The black foe."

"Not quite," he smiles. "Tell me, what would you call a person you spent three hundred years beside, a person whose opinion you valued and whose mind was of greatest interest to you?"

"A friend."

"I wrung every secret from him, drop by drop of blood, and when he had told all and still would not comply, I had him killed and fed his corpse to the dogs. I can be very ruthless when I want to, Zimraphel."

"I was never counting on your mercy."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure we see eachother plain."

He gathers his red-embroidered robes and turns to leave, but first he takes a last look at her. "There is no conceivable reason to spare you that might enter my mind if you ever crossed a certain line, Zimraphel — what are you to me, but a fly of one summer's day, a petty, sickening thing? Take care not to buzz too loud, Your Highness, in my presence or without." He pauses and adds almost nonchalantly. "By the way, I held the Lord of Eregion for seventeen months."

Sauron is honestly far too fun to write for the kind of scumminess he represents.

[gingerpeachtea]

🦀🦀🦀

15 sentences!!!!

Satine was lying on Christian’s bed, seated up against tattered pillows thin with use; she might have minded, if the smell of his shampoo and her perfume weren’t lingering so sweetly. She could recall their early days, before Christian had gotten properly settled, when all that clung was dust. Or, the bitter stench of absinthe, when the same could be said of his breath—when the green-cheapened poetry of his mouth swallowed the copper twinge in her own. A small mercy she'd held tight in her bloodstained fist. Paris backstreets shone among the red L’amour sign beyond Christian’s apartment, a mere glimmer peeking through the reflections cast on the window: Christian’s backside, lit warm by the bedside lamp while he excitedly leafed through the pieces he’d workshopped with Toulouse. He was always working on something new, jumping from project to project, passion to passion; a constant balancing act of his overactive imagination atop the cusp of fresh creation. He came home from each session with Toulouse more than eager to share his day’s musings with Satine. After all, try as he might, Toulouse was never too successful in pacing Christian, keeping him stoking one creative flame at a time instead of just dousing every concept in gasoline and tossing in a reckless match. No, it seemed Santiago and Satine were the lucky few capable of reining him in from careening wildly between ideas at the drop of a hat. (Nini had successfully shot down an idea of his once, though, after being forced to overhear him describe it to Satine in their dressing room between acts. She’d been a bit harsh about it, but he appreciated her honesty.)

i think this is more than 15 whatevs tho ily

(make me write!!!)

[marsmall0ws]

Speaking of LMK, I've been forgetting to post my art style studies, AKA my excuse to look at and redraw my favorite monkies

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[the-clay-quarters]

(tags from @neathyingenue @zeebreezin)

hang on have I not mentioned this enough- Hi! Yes! Vincent is Catalan, from Barcelona! I usually talk about them as being/using Spanish but that's honestly just because I know that's what most people would recognise/understand, compared to how relatively niche Catalan is unfortunately. A lot of the time it's more important in the moment to connect somewhat even if it's not entirely accurate "^^ (and they do use Spanish, it's just their second language instead).

Being Catalan specifically is a key part of Vin as a character because, well... I'm projecting, honestly! I live in Barcelona! I may be British, but I've lived here for most of my life now and it's an equally important part of me as a person. Writing about Vin is an excuse to write about the experience of immigrating (though admittedly in reverse of my own) as well as Catalan language, culture, politics, history...

One day I'll sit down and write out some of this stuff and approximately nobody will know the cultural/historical context <3

[vandalizedheart]

btw nikki's also saying that in terms of her like,, dating a Literal Clone of herself instead of being about her alternates or Theia.

[best-enemies]

Just watched S09E11 of CSI, 'The Grave Shift', after last night's 'One to Go'. I don't think I'll ever recover from Grissom, my favorite character, leaving the show, but his exit was still beautiful and so, so Grissom. Him just telling the team "Yeah so, I'm leaving" and having little moments with each of them, warmed my heart (the character that represented me the most was David, who had to bolt out of the room after Grissom said, "I'll miss you, though", barely managing to hold back the tears before leaving).

And oh my god. His reunion with Sara. They didn't even need words and it was absolutely perfect. Watching Grissom feel physical pain from his break up with Sara broke my heart -- you can see how much he loves her. I hate that they'll break up again; I don't remember how or why exactly, but it feels unnecessary, but I'm comforted by the fact that, ultimately, they'll end up together for the rest of their lives.

One of the things I love about this episode is how they all paid a little homage to Grissom and, near the end, Nick, who was offered Grissom's office, invited Greg and Riley to share it with him. Fits right in with Nick's sweet personality. I love how he says they need all the good energy from that place. He's really Grissom's n#1 pupil ♡

(Shout out to Hodges, one of my favorite characters from this rewatch, walking in and bringing the pig fetus saying it belongs there. I love how bitter he is after Grissom left and how he's not willing to get over it any time soon. Forget David, Hodges is the character that represented me the most, lol).

I need to say, my brain completely ignored the fact that, when Grissom offered Ray Langston a job as a CSI he said that it was an "entry-level job". Instead, I thought he'd get the job as the team leader and it was weird for me to see him being so inexperienced at a job. But all of that is because, one, I haven't rewatched CSI in ten years and forgot about like, 97% of the show and two, I have rewatched Hannibal way too many times and got used to Laurence Fishburne playing a boss, and a damn good one. I do like his character, though!

I'm not a fan of Riley though. I don't know why, she seems mostly competent at her job, fit right in, but at the same time it's not really like she fit in? I felt like maybe she could have had some adaptation into the team, after all she was replacing a long-time team member, Warrick (will talk about him later). Her introduction and adaptation into the team felt a bit sudden and "inorganic" and maybe that's why I don't love her sassy remarks and sort of 'cool girl' personality. Yeah I love Sara but I don't love Riley for the reasons listed above. That could change, though!

Warrick. Oh, man. For Gedda/For Warrick were the most painful episodes to watch and I stalled for months. Some of the team got to have a nice last moment with him, others didn't. It broke my heart how at peace he was in his last hours, hanging out with the work fam, feeling relieved for not losing his job, which was a huge part of his life. I do hate that it had to end like that for him. I get that his death represented the loss of innocence, and that that team wasn't going to last forever... but it's just really painful. To know that he didn't have anyone else, only his soon, which we don't know if he was able to see often...

Too many things happening at once, too many changes, and bumpy ones, but I hope we'll get into a smooth road once again.

[freakshowcowboy]

[noxcorvorum]

It is the nature of things to be changed, it is the nature of time to twist and ruin, but not that things cannot be rebuilt.

There comes a point where the fragments are so shattered and lost that they will no longer fit in their original form, but that they may be shaped and guided into a new one.

Blue-haired daughter cursed and grieving, pink-haired daughter desperate and angry, dark-haired father mangled and twisted, dye-haired child hopeful and following her hero.

They were a family, and then they were shattered in so many directions, in so many ways, at so many times that to put the pieces together again seemed like the hardest thing in the world, like sticking your fingers on shards of glass in an attempt to piece them back together, bleeding on the corpse of the glass-blown bird fallen from flight, knocked carelessly from the workshop table.

And they tried to put themselves back together, holding on hand in bloody hand, fingers intertwined until the hammer of fate dropped, coming down again and again and again and crushing their smiles their tears their marrow into dust.

But dust is something, isn't it?

Dust can be used, shoring up cracks and scattered inside resin, swirling design resembling nothing of what it used to be, but clinging to form, to being, to life. Chemtech beast, enforcer, hero, hero's shadow. All of them changed, none of them different.

But dust is ephemeral, isn't it.

A shadow, gone in a burst of light. A chemtech-addled father, wiped away by poison fire. A hero of the people, resigned and ready and falling. A reluctant enforcer, left safe behind.

There is something to be said, though, for their choices. Sprinting ahead with a stolen gun. Protecting and defending children. Undoing the clasp on a hextech glove, and gently holding the face of the monster in a father's altered body before pulling the pin as a sister screams, far above them both.

Even dust may choose its end, scattered on the breath of time.

[xyl4-4444]

Goodbye Mandela Catalogue community

I am writing this post in light of recent (now proven to be false, READ THE EDIT DIPSHIT) accusations against the creator of the series that I (as a once fanartist) have made the decision to fully abandon TMC fandom altogether, this means that there will be no new artworks, no reblogs of my older works, no slight interaction with fan content from other people, NOTHING.

Which yeah, as someone who has gotten fame from it on this site (and good memories for that matter) , it fucking sucks. It sucks that the creator of a certain thing that you once loved, turned out to be a rotten, piece-of-shit person, it just sucks.

If you're here to like my posts related to it, it's up to you if you wanna stay here longer (assuming you don't support him), but if you continue to support him and everything he stands for after the callout doc came out, then GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BLOG!!! DON'T INTERACT WITH ME, AT ALL!!! Infact, you can feel free to block me if you want to.

At the end of the day, we have to accept that a big and pretty impactful creator, who we considered as an idol to us, is very likely to become a horrible person in one way or another. It's an inevitable fate, yeah.. We've seen this before, and it will happen again in the future and there's nothing we can do besides calling then out on their behaviour and listen to the victims...

Those 3 paragraphs above are now outdated as SHIT, DO NOT READ THESE... But alas.. It's time for me to move on from this..

Goodbye....

EDIT (31/03/2024): Turns out, Alex Kister was proven innocent and the accusations in the doc are FALSE.... so I take back what I just wrote in paragraph 2-4 don't read these. They aged like an absolutely SPOILED MILK. Still I'm not gonna associate myself with this fandom anymore due to the life-ruining, yet fake accusations V3n threw onto Alex out of nowhere. They've ruined my enjoyment of this series and being in the fandom in general >:|.

I'm kinda glad I didn't delete my fanart works, but still I'm not reblogging them anyway I wanna move on.

[apocalypse-boogie]

I gotta be honest, I don’t engage with the Criminal Minds fandom (despite having watched all of the original show + Evolution and read up on as much of the spin-offs as I could) because I don’t like how prevalent the racism and sexism and infantilization is in the fandom. There’s just enough of all that shit upfront that I don’t want to dig any deeper than I already have. I’m good, I get enough of that shit in fandoms that I’ve been apart of for years I’m not gonna let this shit sully my love for this show anymore than it already has (especially considering the show’s writing itself is not devoid of these faults).

I’d rather just love the show and dissect it and write analysis and fanfic for it and shit on my own.

My fav characters (just cause & kind of in best to least order): Penelope Garcia (she’s literally me, I love her), Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jordan Todd, Matt Simmons, David Rossi.