#that's literally the opposite of what it's about

[fueioekjfisks]

Even if danny does come clean with the justice league, they would need proof.

Properly exposing himself could put him in danger if the justice league failed (and lets be honest, I dont think danny has that much trust that they could clear this up before anybody gets hurt sense it took them this long to even look into it in the first place)

So keeping danny and phantom as separate entities would be crucial.

PLUS it has so much angst and misunderstanding potential that i just cant resist

Like, danny is the primary doctor (Torturer) for phantom! Hes the son of ghosthunters! Phantoms natural enemy! They are on opposite ends of this war

Of course Danny isnt actually torturing Phantom, they find a way to make it look like hes making progress without causing harm, maybe by reinventing Fenton tech and phantoms spectral manipulation abilities.

But Phantom has to play his role as victim well.

He is so dramatic, and with Danny playing the sadistic manipulative doctor it looks like a horror movie - while both of them are trying not to laugh at the idiot GIW agents who fall for their honestly sub par lying and acting skills.

Maybe B gets to watch one of their sessions, or is otherwise shown them through video recordings which the GIW/Danny so proudly showed off - and is absolutely horrified!

Sure, by human standards it looks like Phantom is ridiculously conscious for someone actively being vivisected - screaming about “oh the horror!” “Wheres the humanity!” “Oh woe is me!”

But Phantom being a different species he cant apply human expectations! This could be exactly how it goes for them! And he definitely LOOKS like hes being cut up (Phantom using his stupid cartoon body manipulation abilities )

And its clear Dr Danny is completely unfazed by all of it! He might even be enjoying it!

Hes especially cruel- telling phantom to shut up (Phantom is being way to dramatic to be believable) and threatening him (phantom is actively biting back replying with “you promise ;)” to literally everything and Danny KNOWS and is trying SO HARD not to laugh)

Ya know general torture stuff

But as oracle is searching through the GIW database she finds a secret file. (This is stolen from one of the earlier replies)

Its Dr Dannys

It contains other sessions of him and Phantom along with Videos of danny reviewing GIW plans, sites, employees, and its Very Helpful for the bats.

I imagine that the videos of Dr Danny and Phantom have them mostly joking around and checking in on each other. Danny used ectopowers and/or help from Tucker or Technus to keep the videos away from the GIW and put them in his own personal files.

Danny had kept the videos of proof that ghosts are sentient (and maybe his own innocence), but he didnt want to make it obvious he was a double agent incase he got found out

I cant decide if its better if these videos reveal Danny as a double agent or if it looks like Phantom is developing stockholm syndrome with his personal torturer. Either way it clearly shows that Phantom and Danny are close.

Does something they do make it look like Danny and Phantom were friends (or maybe more, fake pitch pearl my beloved) before his capture? Do the JL question what happened?

Does Danny eventually reveal to truth? Does he go to jail before he gets the chance?

Did the justice league rescue Phantom or did Danny call in a rescue from Sam and Tucker? Does this make it look like Dr Danny went on the run with his favorite test subject?

Does Danny help out with Phantoms escape, throwing everything the JL know about him out the window?

Does Danny think they figured out he was a double agent? Is he confused when they try to save Phantom from him?

Does Phantom and Danny fuse back together the second the alarms in the GIW base start up because of the JLs rescue? Does it look like Phantom is getting revenge on his torturer via possession? Do the JL try to talk him out of it?

Was Phantom actually weakened by his stint with the GIW? Is it because of the lack of ectoplasm? his general mistreatment? Is the double is naturally weaker? or did something need to be done to make the fake Fenton Tools look like they work?

Does this make Phantom to weak to stop the JL from separating him and danny / taking Phantom to the hospital?

Does Phantom need to go to therapy where he is supposed to talk about how evil Danny is? Does it make it look like Phantom has Stockholm syndrome even more? Is Danny going through the same therapy? Does it make him look obsessed either Phantom? Are they playing it up for fun?

Anyway, lots of ideas, i love GIW danny so much.

Also fake pitch pearl for hidden identity purposes, both current or back when they were younger could be so funny / angsty

You Don’t Know Me

“We’re so glad you’re showing an interest in our work here, Mr. Wayne!”

“Of course! It’s just all so new!” Bruce said through a hollow laugh, “It’s almost unbelievable!”

“Believing in ghosts is the first step to finally getting rid of them!”

Bruce fought to keep his face flat as the director enthusiastically continued his tour of their facility.

Their ghost hunting facility.

Where they had funded and government sanctioned labs purely for the persecution of an entire inter-dimensional species.

“-Truly, the Drs.Fenton were an inspiration to the entire field of ectobiology! We wouldn’t know half the things we know about ghosts if it wasn’t for their early research!”

Bruce forced a thin smile, “Oh? Will I get to meet them? Or can I at least see some of their work?”

The man faltered almost imperceptibly, “Ah well.. that might be a bit, Fentons can be a bit.. overzealous and-“

“I’m sure it would go a long way to understanding the need for such a large facility. If it’s worth it even, perhaps I could fund an expansion…” Bruce let his voice trail off.

The man’s eyes sharpened at the mention of his financials- of course, what more could you expect from a shark who’d joined an operation like this- and the man quickly smiled.

“But of course Mr. Wayne!” He turned around, leading them towards an elevator, “Our labs are just downstairs, easy access you know, and well.. with any new specimens it’s always best to start right away!”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. They already had subjects? Their reports, their research had indicated they weren’t there yet, but if they were, this could quickly turn into a rescue mis-

“-It’s an absolute honor that we even have one of the Fenton’s themselves working with us!” Bruce sharpened his senses, one of them was here? The people who had laid every base for a hateful crusade against another dimension, all for their own ambition?

“Our labs are right through here,” the director said as he pushed open a door, “Dr. Fenton is working with our prize specimen right now, I’m sure!”

Bruce quickly scanned and analyzed the entire room. Testing tubes, jars filled with green, centrifuges, a sample fridge, glassware, plenty of counter space, all taken up by various tools and materials. And standing in front it was the reason for it all, dressed in a white lab coat over garish latex.

He turned around as they entered, “You know me too well, Director,” the young man spoke, ignoring the green splattered over his gloves, “My work with him isn’t finished yet.”

“Mr.Wayne, meet our frontier scientist, Dr. Daniel Fenton.”

Bruce Wayne scanned the young man, no older than 26, with a height similar to his own and shoulders only barely less.

A scientist. An unknown. A threat.

Fenton smiled at him, “Tell me Mr.Wayne,” Daniel said, and his smile went sharp, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

[channelsurfinng]

｡･ﾟﾟ･𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾...･ﾟﾟ･｡

...𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌!

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 ✧ 𝗑𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗇, 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖺, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗁, 𝗆𝖺𝗏𝗎𝗂𝗄𝖺, 𝗆𝗎𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗂, 𝗅𝗒𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗒, 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾, 𝖿��𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖺, clorinde.

𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌!

𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌... 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗑𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁? 𝗈𝗄 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗂'𝗆 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖼 𝗂'𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 + 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ✧ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗒. 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍.

𝗑𝗈𝗑𝗈, 𝗅𝗂𝗅 ୨୧

she's a rather lazy kisser.

takes her time, but doesn't put a ton of passion into the kiss. she makes sure you know she means it, but just doesn't see the point of pulling away intensely gasping for air and all that stuff.

you normally receive her kisses during nap times. she loves to sleep, and so whenever you lay down with her, whether it's on the comfort of your shared bed or high up in the trees, she'll sloppily kiss your collarbones, neck, face, pretty much wherever she can reach.

she's a pretty good kisser overall, though. when she wants to be serious, they'll get a little bit more intense, but that's very rarely. really only when you're intensely making out, or even making love to one another.

passionate kisser! pretty much the exact opposite to xilonen.

she thinks of you as someone to be treasured, and she's very passionate about treating you as such. her kisses show you that almost perfectly.

a goodnight kiss and a good morning kiss is always in arrangement. she can't leave the house without them, and even if you're still asleep by the time she needs to leave, you'll still receive it. but there's no getting out of a goodnight kiss. she can't sleep without it, but she'll never admit it to you.

if she feels upset or angered by something, she'll immediately seek you for a kiss. no matter what you're doing, she'll take your face in her hands and kiss your lips. you never mind it. but it doesn't ever happen in public. she's not a fan of pda.

not as good as xilonen in terms of how she kisses, but she's passionate and sends her message through them. they do tend to get a bit sloppy during lovemaking, though...

his kisses are just a bunch of things all at once. sounds weird but do you know what i mean

he's stressed? he goes in for a kiss. he's happy? kiss. sleepy? kiss!

he doesn't do pda, but isn't like chasca as where she doesn't really want to initiate it. if he wants a kiss, he'll get a kiss. he might be teased to the deaths by ajaw, but oh well. he'll just swat him into timeout.

at first, he did not know how to kiss. like it was bad. lol. you kinda had to give him a little lesson because he's literally never kissed anybody before, and he wasn't ever just naturally good at it

but, with a little work, he learned, and he enjoys it very much! it's probably his favorite way of showing you he loves you, he thinks. he'd never put his lips on something he doesn't truly treasure, and you're the only one who gets it.

overall, not a bad kisser once you teach him. he knows the right and wrong times of when to initiate, and he knows your boundaries, and is careful to not overstep.

come home the kids miss you mavuika

she gives passionate, but not frequent kisses.

her job as the pyro archon takes a lot of strength and patience, coming from the both of you. she's stressed and tired, and you need to have the patience with her.

but she understands that you need attention and love too, and the caring part of her kicks in. and these moments are why kisses are so special.

they only happen when she realizes she's been potentially neglecting you too much. she could be away for days on end, but always expect a kiss and a long hug when she comes back, maybe as a little apology.

she's more of a hugger rather than a kisser. her hugs symbolize to you that she's there to protect you and that she loves you, but her kisses mean something even more than that. that's how you know that she really treasures you.

overall a good kisser when she wants to give kisses!!! though they're uncommon, they're long and passionate when they do happen. although, when you guys get it on (if you know what i mean winky face winky face) she kisses a lot more.

(hug hcs and maayyyyybbeeeee lovemaking hcs in a different post maybe perhaps perchance)

this girl is a KISSER!!!!!

she strikes me as the type of girl to kiss her girlfriends on the forehead or the cheek whenever they have to part. for example, kachina gets a little goodbye peck every time they need to separate (in a platonic way, obviously).

so when it comes down to you, you get even more!!!!!

her favorite thing after a long day of exploring with her friends is running into your shared home and jumping into your arms, kissing your face so many times you swore if she was wearing lipstick your face would be colored the shade she was wearing.

but she saves her real kisses all for you!!! the kisses she gives you aren't just little pecks, no, they're full on kisses. like, borderline making out, gasping-for-air kind of thing. she always giggles and kisses your nose right after before going back to what she was doing before (she finds it funny how you always look stunned and winded afterwards).

overall, the best kisses anybody could ever receive. someone get me a mualani. is this my sign to raise her from level 60?

this boy is such a tease his kisses are literally pretty much to tease you

see they can be serious and teasing. depending on the mood.

they'll be teasing when you're simply hanging around the house, maybe you're cooking or doing a chore while lyney's practicing magic. you could be hyper focused and he'll sneak up to you, silent like a cat, and just start showering you with kisses along your neck and shoulders. he earns a little swat on the shoulder for distracting you.

they'll be serious mostly when you're sad or he's jealous. if you're sad, his kisses will go from serious and passionate to his usual teasing pecks in attempt to cheer you up. it usually works, and he always ends up with a laughing s/o, just like he wants it.

but when he's jealous, woah. that's a whole different kind of thing. new side to lyney unlocked.

he'll come up to you and lock you in a kiss so passionate for so long you can barely breathe when he lets go of you, giving the person you were talking to a look before dragging you off. this will only happen if another man approaches you. he needs to show them who you really belong to, and what's a better way to do it than that?

overall, great kisser, but only really shows it during lovemaking or when he's jealous. he's skilled with his mouth, his hands, goodness, he's just the epitome of perfection!

hmmm i can't tell with him

sometimes he only has time for small little pecks, and other times he's got you on his lap in his office and kissing you until you pull away gasping for air. depends on his schedule tbh

on the days he is free, though, it's mostly just sex over simple kisses. he'll start with gentle, passionate kisses before moving down, and down, and down even lower, before more events start happening. idk he's a busy man people

but his little pecks are great too!!!! he needs to hurry out of his office sometimes and never fails to find you in your living quarters to give you a little kiss on the lips before leaving for the rest of the day, or maybe only about an hour. depends on the prisoner, depends on the severity of the situation, depends on a lot of things lowk

overall a good kisser. he just doesn't really have time to unleash his full potential (lol) but ya.

lowk same as wriothesley lol he doesn't have much time for really anything with relationships

but the difference is, instead of little pecks, he pulls you into a hug and truly kisses you goodbye. he may be away for longer times than wriothesley is, so he makes sure the impact lasts enough for the duration he's away.

he greets you the same way when he comes back, too. he never wants you to feel neglected, but his work occasionally has to come first.

and when you do feel neglected? ah, you may see it rain. he feels so bad, and watching you break down and tell him how you feel may make him shed a tear or two himself.

he uses gentle kisses along your neck and collarbones to get you to calm down, truly soaking in your complaints and doing his best to change his schedule just a bit...

overall an ok kisser. he just never has time to give them.

oh she loves kisses! but unfortunately she's too stubborn to admit it.

at first, something held her back from giving them. she didn't know why, you never knew why, but eventually she got more comfortable with it that she started giving them all the time!

she loves when you give them too! again, too stubborn to admit it, but she melts when you give her random kisses too (just avoid it in public, she'll get embarrassed, and how dare you embarrass lady furina!)

but in private , she's pretty much all over you! she wants to kiss you every single time that she sees you. she just finds you irresistible, okay? don't argue!

overall not the best kisser, but a fun kisser! never tell her that though, she might not appreciate it.

very dense. doesn't really understand the point of even kissing in the first place.

but she came to love it, that's for sure. and after a couple months, she'll start to warm up to initiating it.

her kisses are rather hesitant, as if she's doing it wrong. this is her first relationship, the first person to truly have her back. she almost feared messing up. but in your eyes, clorinde could never mess up.

she kisses you every night she's able to come home to you. but that's really all. kinda like mavuika, she expresses herself in other ways, but instead of hugging she uses her words and small gifts.

if you want more kisses, you gotta initiate. she doesn't mind it though! she secretly wants more, she's just nervous to ask

overall, not a great kisser, but she tries for you.

[ivy-elle]

When You're Sick -

and how they take care of you

Feat: Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

Kazuha 

You’re not sure if it’s the constant swaying of Beidou’s ship, the relentless stream of sunshine or maybe the lack of sleep last night, but Archons, your head is absolutely killing you right now. The only thing keeping you sane – more or less – is the fresh breeze of the sea, and even then, you find your nails nearly digging themselves into the wood of the railing.

Just as you’re about to lean your head down and close your eyes for a few heavenly moments, a soft voice speaks out behind you. 

“You shouldn’t stay out in the open sun for too long, dove.”

Before you get the chance to reply you feel something being put on your head, shielding your eyes from the sun.

You turn around, and there’s Kazuha mustering you with a faint smile yet also a slight furrow on his face. 

“Is everything alright?”

You reach out to adjust the hat on top of your hair while leaning your back against the railing again. 

“Thank you. And yes, I don’t mind the sun, I’m literally freezing.”

At your words, Kazuha’s frown deepens. “Freezing?” He places both his hands on your arms, gently caressing them. “Love, you’re shivering. How can you be shivering at these temperatures? Have you fallen sick?”

As he pulls you closer, you automatically rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes at the pleasant comfort. 

“Mhm, just tired I think,” you murmur.

Kazuha’s hands automatically wrap around your waist and pull you closer.  His lips brush against your temple. “Let’s head inside the cabin and get some rest. I’m sure, I can manage to bribe the cook for some special soup for dinner, hm?”

Right there in Kazuha’s arms, an incredibly heavy tiredness overcomes you. A low hum escapes you as you blink drowsily. “When will we reach Liyue?”

His hand rests at the base of your neck, massaging the skin there with his thumb. “If we keep course sometime in the night. But rest assured, I won’t go on land until you’re feeling up to it as well.”

Then Kazuha gently cups your face in his hands and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come now, you’re the priority right now.”

Scaramouche

The morning you wake up with a sore throat, is when you realise, the rest of the day is absolutely done for.

And yet, you still torment yourself out of bed, get dressed and pop some pills to help you handle the coming hours.

Considering that the Fatui don’t allow aberration or shortcomings of any sort, there is no way you could be negligent. Especially today.

So, dressed and ready you cast a last glimpse at your reflection in the mirror you declare that your outer appearance now at least overshadows your inner demise. And thus, you go out the door.

Still.

And still, he notices. Of course, he does.

The second you enter the headquarters and the very second Scaramouche’s eyes fall on you – like they always tend to do – his brow twitches, and he throws you a silent but very disapproving glare.

During the meeting you both stand on opposite ends of the hall, so while you are trying to overplay your struggles and keep any undesired sneezes supressed, you are in luck to receive nothing but the occasional glance in your direction from him.

But as soon as the assembly is done, Scaramouche is immediately at your side. “What compelled you to come here looking like that?” he hisses. But he doesn’t even look at you, gaze focused straight ahead as you both walk down the hallway.

“Why,” you deflect, ignoring his tensed expression, “you have anything against my outfit?”

“Y/n.” Scaramouche’s tone is low, with a warning not to play around right now.

“You’re of no use to the Fatui if you’re sick, or worse off.”

You frown slightly. Honestly, you definitely feel way too out of it for any arguments or for anything in general. So you fend off, “It’s not like I’m dying.”

“Of course, you’re not!” he retorts sharply, his eyes darkening as they lock with you. Then as if he realises the force of his words, he pinches his nose. “Of course, you’re not dying,” he repeats once more but this time with less venom yet enough exasperation in his voice, to get his point across.

“I should’ve known better than to take you with me to Snezhnaya. Now you’re suffering the consequences of your mortal fragility. Just great.”

You blink. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got quite the affinity for dramatic flair?” You stop in your walk, and he comes to a halt as well.

Scaramouche eyes travel along the lack of usual colour in your face, the flush around your eyes and how out of breath you sound. His jaw clenches.

“You’re coming to my place.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise. You can’t help the teasing smile tugging on your lips, despite the heaviness and fuzzy state of your mind. “Already missing me, my dear?”

Scaramouche scoffs and flicks his gaze over you dismissively. “Someone has to make sure you won’t try anything stupid in your current state.”

You playfully bump your fist against his chest. “Aww, so you do care about little ol’ me.”

He rolls his eyes with exaggerated disdain and catches your wrist with his hand, pressing it against his body. “You’re the one being sick and yet I’m the one already getting a headache.”

Xiao

Xiao is freaking out.

When he finds you curled up in bed, shivering and covered in a sheen of sweat his mind immediately jumps to the worst possibilities.

Yet, he tries not to let his inner turmoil show, his hand clenching and unclenching the cloth on his pants while he takes slow, weary steps towards you.

“Y/n?”

You lift your head, your tired eyes flicker to him, and the sight of your weak state only fuels his concern.

Despite your weary expression, your lips curve into a soft, affectionate smile. “Hi,” you greet him, voice hoarse and tinged with exhaustion. “Has Verr Goldet sold me out?”

Xiao nods slowly. His expression is hard to make out as he steps closer, eyes running over your face. The bed dips slightly as he sits down at your side and gently traces his fingertips over your sweat-damp forehead.

“How bad is it?” He asks, his voice quiet yet gruff as if he is trying to contain all his emotions.

“It’s just a mean cold.” You shake your head and shift your position. Xiao immediately helps you sit up and lean against the pillows at your headrest.  

“No need to worry too much.”

Xiao gently tucks a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “You’re asking me for something that goes against my nature.”

Your gaze softens as it lingers on him, studying his reaction carefully. Then you explain in a quieten voice, “It is normal for humans to get sick once in a while.”

His eyebrows furrow and he blinks several times, as if searching for the right words to say. But he finds none and thus he resides to carefully trail his fingers through your hair, down to your collarbone and shoulder.

Your eyes close on their own and you instinctively lean into his soft touches while the back of his hand travels from your neck, off to your cheek and finally settling on your forehead.

“How can I help you?” Xiao’s voice is quiet, as if afraid to disturb the moment of peace you seemed to have found right now. “I’ll get you anything you need. Anything. Just say the word.”

Your hand reaches for his unoccupied one, fingers dragging along his skin, following invisible patterns on his wrist before you gently intertwine your fingers. “Stay with me?”

Xiao nods, his expression earnest. “Always.”

Thank you so much for reading! Any comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Who do you think is the most popular dorm leader amongst their students. Like Leona's obviously kind of a dick but people love him and respect him, while Riddle is more controversial amongst the students. Like rank them based on popularity if you'd be so kind!

I think it really depends??? Like, it's obviously very different within a dorm versus outside of it. Then there's also the question of passion and how far the students that admire said dorm leader will go for them. For example, Diasomnia students are incredibly passionate and form literal angry mobs to defend Malleus's honor; this cannot be said for most of the other dorms. However, the love and admiration for Malleus stretches thin outside of his own dormitory.

Instead of ranking them overall, I think I would instead categorize them like this (note: Yuu is excluded because Ramshackle has fallen from its status as a dorm):

Popular, few to no strings attached:

Kalim is popular both in his dorm and outside of it. He is one of the few cheerful and friendly students on campus and is shown to be well-liked in Scarabia for his empathy and willingness to accept others as they are. Kalim is also generous, throwing parties that include guests from other dorms and often trying to buy expensive gifts like diamonds for his dorm members (until he is stopped by others). His naivety also means he’s easily fooled and taken advantage of, which… sounds like a bad thing, but would be seen as a positive by some of the less savory characters at NRC.

Vil is generally liked and respected. Pre-book 5 Epel is an exception to this. However, students from other dorms, particularly Savanaclaw, sometimes mock Vil and underestimate him until he proves himself to them (for example, in Beans Fest). In both cases, his doubters change their minds and come around to him one way or another. I'd also imagine that Vil being a celebrity and all gives him a HUGE boost in appeal among the general student body.

Popular-ish, terms and conditions apply:

Leona is decently popular, especially among first years, his club, and within his own dormitory. He tends to attract younger students seeking a cool and dependable older brother or mentor figure. Most others—especially in his own grade level—have beef with Leona and/or take issue with his attitude, which is fair and valid.

Known but… infamous:

Riddle seems to be seen in a relatively neutral light by most students. Some admire him for his diligence but more often than not, he’s deemed annoying or unreasonable for enforcing the rules, especially Heartslabyul’s ridiculous ones. His penchant for blowing up at people and being anal about adhering to rules in a very literal and absolutist way probably does not earn him brownie points.

Azul is technically well-known but not necessarily adored. The twins go around advertising his services and luring in potential clients. If you need something, you know he can help you out… for the right price. Azul also has notoriety thanks to running the Mostro Lounge. I don't think people like him very much though, considering that mob students complain about how he’s a scumbag, fellow dorm leaders like Vil express an inherent distrust of him, and Azul himself has zero qualms about using dirty tactics like blackmail to get his own dorm members under his thumb. It feels like people are polite to him out of obligation and fear or what would happen if they aren’t. So in a weird way, Azul is liked for what he can provide people, but isn’t genuinely liked as an individual.

Malleus is playing a game of emotional extremes. While he has fervent, die-hard Draconians like Sebek backing him, the majority of the NRC population holds the opposite opinion and is deathly afraid of him. If he so much as smiles at a mob student or attempts to approach them, most would scream and/or run away. There are certainly exceptions (Kalim, Rook, Yuu, etc.), but they’re in the minority. He’s overing near the bottom, if only because of the overwhelming terror his name evokes, even if the Draconians attempt to balance it out. Their pushes to make others recognize the glory of their dorm leader only serves to further exacerbate existing tensions.

Not known and/or not popular:

Idia, well… Does bro touch grass and see the light of day enough to even be known by most of the students??? The students we do see Idia interact with tend to either ignore him (partly because he lurks in corners, away from people) or think of him as unpleasant to deal with. It’s hard for him to socialize, and when he does sometimes his Gamer ego gets the better of him and he mouths off an insult that catches him heat. Idia may get some street cred in his own dorm for his skills, but this largely doesn’t extend beyond Ignihyde. I wouldn’t even know if it would be right to say that the other Ignihyde students like Idia; everyone just stays in their own rooms way too much for me to properly gauge their relationship and so I’m left to take the opinions of the larger student body into account.

[nightcolorz]

why do so many people act like lestat has better morals or is nicer then Armand in some way? there is nothing in the books that suggest this, Lestat and Armand have committed like the same exact crimes (even the sexual ones.) have fairly similar philosophies on murder (lestat tries to only kill criminals cuz he doesn’t want to take innocent life, Armand tries to only kill people who want to die and would otherwise take there own lives bcus he doesn’t want to take the life of someone who wants to live) Lestats moral stance on killing is more brutal arguably then Armand’s bcus he chooses to kill criminals cuz he likes chasing down his prey and tormenting them it’s fun for him, and Lestat finds maintaining his criminals only rule very hard bcus he “loves innocent blood it tastes better” which is fun. Armand sometimes brutally kills or hunts too and definitely drinks a lot of innocent blood but more often then not tries to make his killing as sparse and merciful as possible. Literally the only evidence at all that Lestat is a better person then Armand is the fact that most of the books are narrated by Lestat who is always informing the audience of his perspective while committing his crimes while Armand never explains anything he ever does even in his own book. But taking “we know more about what lestat thinks” to mean “lestat is a better person then Armand cuz he’s easier to understand” is shallow and biased imo.

show only fans who think Lestat is a better person then Armand make even less sense to me bcus there is even less to suggest this in the show, in fact there is significant evidence to suggest the opposite 😭? But again, Lestat and Armand both torture people, they both are physically violent and scary, both are abusive, both are highly motivated by histories of trauma and being crazy, etc. they are like the same amount of bad 😭 did I miss the thing that told everyone that lestat has a kind heart and Armand doesn’t 💀. I think people just sympathize easier with Lestat in the show bcus he has a really sad backstory we r informed of, but idk bcus we r also informed of Armand’s very sad backstory that In my opinion is easier to conceptualize as capable of breaking someone’s brain to the point where they casually enact torture and live in a constant state of violence. the worst of Lestat’s trauma happens to him when he is like (in the show) 37? 💀 which is still terrible, obviously, but man. I don’t see how he is more sympathetic then Armand😭

[sigweiner]

⌁₊˚ Shiver ˚₊⌁ {P1}

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!/Gnc!/Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: There's a dance party for Isha. Jinx blows stuff up and you end up taking her (virginity) virtue. Also this has quite a bit of your bg story.

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

a/n: Arcane literally altered my brain chemistry so I had to put this out. Also English is not my first language, sorry for the weird punctuation and sentences. Minors and creeps dni.

{P2} soon

“You know what we need?!” Jinx exclaims with a wild look on her face, completely out of the blue. “A dance partaaaay!!!” She shouts excitedly, throwing her pale arms in the air and spinning on her stool chair, blue braids swirling around her and all.

She had been working on Fishbones for a while, quietly talking to herself here and there as usual, when she suddenly announced her idea to everyone present. Isha jumped up from where she was sitting on the floor, seeming very excited by the prospect of dancing around to strobe lights and loud music. You rolled your eyes unimpressed, asking yourself how the hell was she planning to pull that off since none of you could be seen in public. You were supposed to be dead, Jinx was a wanted criminal and Isha… well she was an easy target for being associated with Piltover’s number one enemy.

It's been three months since you have failed - somewhat intentionally - a mission assigned to you by your mother after you fucked up majorly with a job she gave you. A job that involved escorting the head of a highly respected and ridiculously rich family from Piltover. Madam Margot though, is one of the last remaining chem barons, and she only really held the title of your mother because she gave birth to you. The relationship between you two was downright abusive and toxic while she raised you to be the epitome of perfection – perfect posture, perfect manners, perfect body, absolutely submissive, extremely feminine and pleasant. Not to mention the extensive training for you to become the best courtesan at the Rapturewalk, so there would be no one you wouldn’t be able to pleasure.

The cruel irony of life though was you were the complete opposite of all that. Poor posture, disregard for manners, chubby, defiant and full of masculine energy. So you suffered greatly, mostly by her hands but also by any object she could grab around to discipline you. You had to learn to compartmentalise yourself and your feelings to survive but you reached your breaking point when you met Jinx, basically. You were supposed to capture her and kill Sevika in the process but you ended up in a human sized cage in her hideout. You could have done it, finished the mission successfully and returned to your mother seeking her praise and approval, but that would never happen anyway, she was too much of a narcissist to give you that satisfaction.

Margot did sponsor all your implants and shimmer “treatments” though, so you could turn into a living walking weapon, her weapon, which is the only thing you’re really grateful for other than receiving training to become a blade master which was also a requirement because you needed to learn how to defend yourself, she always encouraged you in that regard. So you became Shiv, choosing this alias to represent your "chemgoth assassin who wears too much leather and harnesses" personality. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t your entire existence, or maybe it is but you try not to think too much about it. But anyway, back to your more recent reality: a very empathetic little girl took a liking to you while you were caged and convinced Jinx to take you in, since she believed you didn't represent any real danger to them. So here you are in yet another dysfunctional “family”, though you rather this a thousand times than go back to Margot.

“What are you talking about? We can't go out in public, Jinx.” You say with an unamused scowl on your face.

“Hah! Don't be stupid, trinket! We're having the party right here.” She flaunts her arms flamboyantly referring to the space around her. Isha jumps up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “Now, I'll take care of the music and lights, Isha will take care of decoration and Trinket…” She points her wrench at you, making a dramatic pause. “Will take care of food and drinks.” She finishes with a smirk so you scoff.

“Why do I get the hardest task?” You ask rolling your eyes at her but already knowing the answer.

“Consider it a small payback for trying to capture me.” She replies through gritted teeth. “Plus you're a really good thief, I'm sure you can get your hands on some top shelf stuff for us.” She adds nonchalantly, reminding you why she still keeps you around.

“I'm not a thief.” You say stubbornly, the complement going over your head.

“Great! It's settled then, let's get to work!” She jumps off her stool and starts rummaging through a bunch of crates full of messy junk.

You cross your arms over your chest and sink further into the couch. You had no intention to start on your assigned task anytime soon. And who does she think she is anyway to order you around like that? What a stupid idea, a dance party. Sure that would make little Isha so happy. She often got bored sitting around the hideout with nothing to do other than tinker with unfinished bombs and draw on any surface she could find. But dancing and parties are really not your thing, you’re more a moping around in the dark kind of person which makes you realise you might be a little too depressed actually.

So you start brainstorming places to raid where you know there's a good stash of food and drinks and you immediately think of your mother's warehouse. But that was definitely a bad idea, since there would be a small probability you could get caught by the Vyx or be seen around, although you're pretty sure you could get in and out without any effort, since you know the place like the back of your hand. Plus thinking about the kind of food your mother had laying around made you salivate, not to mention the booze, that could definitely cheer you up.

Jinx suddenly plops down on the couch next to you interrupting your thought process by man spreading in those distracting tiny shorts and thigh high socks. You avert your gaze quickly and try to ignore her presence altogether but your hormones get the best of you. Did she have to walk around in so little clothing? Doesn’t she get cold or something? Although the shimmer probably altered a lot of sensations for her but this was just maddening. She nudges your leg with her boot lightly, refusing to be ignored.

“You know opting out of the party is not an option for you, right Trinket?” She says in a surprisingly calm voice and smirks when you glance at her sideways.

“Whatever.” You scoff, continuing to look anywhere but at her stupidly attractive grin.

“So where are you planning to snatch the goods?” she ignores your dismissive tone while playing with the ends of one of her braids. 

“Maybe… my mother's warehouse. But that's a dumb idea.” You reply pointedly. Jinx suddenly gasps and gets closer to you.

“That's a perfect idea, Trinket! Margot has stuff the Pilts eat, dude. You have to get it for us, it's gonna be epic!” She grabs at the traps of your harness that hugs your collarbones and shakes you slightly. 

“Get off!” You push her hands away with an aggravated look on your face but she just laughs at your reaction. “I'm not putting myself in that kind of danger for your stupid party.” You tell her sternly, but it lacks any real bite.

Jinx feigns a surprised look of insult and reclines back on the couch spreading her slender legs even further. “Don't be selfish, Trinket! This party is for that kid over there, who by the way, has never tasted anything like what people on the other side of the bridge have. So stop being an insufferable brat and get going!” she moves to shove you off the couch but you manage to dodge her swiftly. 

In a second you're standing in front of her, arms firmly crossed against your chest. “Fine. But just so you know I'm only doing this for her, not for you.” You let out with more anger than you intended to. There's a flash of hurt on her features before she manages to mask it so you hold her gaze a second longer before turning around and vanishing from sight.

If you were being honest with yourself you had to admit that this little rendezvous Jinx sent you on made you feel alive. Sure, the safety of the hideout brought you immense emotional comfort, even though the blue haired girl could get under your skin most of the time. But this, the adrenaline of the mission, the possibility of getting caught or even running into your mother, is simply thrilling. And you love the simple things in life.

So you are selfish after all. The motivation behind your actions, completely forgotten by you. You learn the patterns of the guards, patiently designing your path through isles of containers then you proceed to move swiftly and blend in with the shadows. You lockpick your way into a large container in seconds and your double bladed dagger cuts through the mesh nets that are covering large crates filled with aliments. 

You stash as much as you can on a makeshift bag you brought with you and when you start to tie it across your chest and back, you sense movement behind you. You move so fast your own brain can’t recognise who you suddenly have caught by putting your dagger under their throat and tightly securing one of their arms on their back. The person is wearing a hooded cloak but you get a whiff of a familiar scent coming off of them and immediately recognise the intruder.

“Gee, didn't know you were this kinky.” Jinx says putting her free arm up in redemption. You release her from your grip and push her away. She turns around with a big grin on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You whisper harshly but she gives you a look of feigned innocence.

“I came to help you carry stuff.” She says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Her hands lower to rest on her hips and she winks at you. Damn her.

“Shh, you're going to alert the Vyx.” You reprimand her. She just rolls her eyes and turns around to steal more food from the open crates. 

You stare at her back in complete disbelief as she collects honey, chocolate, sugar, candy, meat and all the soda cans she could fit in her backpack. How in the hell did she manage to get over here without you noticing? She must've followed you, or more likely stalked you all the way over here. It is understandable that she wouldn't trust you and wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you wouldn't run from her, but this was just a whole nother level of mania.

“I wasn't gonna run, y’know.” You say quietly. She stops what she's doing but doesn't look at you.

“I know.” She replies in the same quiet manner. “But you're so much fun to follow around, I can't help it.” She turns sideways to look at you with her signature wicked grin that you love to hate. God, sometimes you wish you could kiss it off her face.

You scoff, but look away. “More like stalking.” You mumble under your breath. “Let's go, there's a round of guards coming this way.” You warn her.

“Fineee.” She drags her response. “But I'm leaving your mother a gift, ya know, in exchange for her generosity and letting us take all this stuff.” She giggles mischievously at the confused look on your face. “15 seconds, let's go!” She warns, then runs past you.

You hear the familiar ticking of one of her monkey bombs and your eyes widen. Shit, why does she always have to make an event out of everything? Your body moves faster than your brain yet again, and you manage to see a pink colored flash of light moving alongside you, bolting to the exit. A few seconds later you hear as well as feel the blast in the not so far distance. And chaos ensues.

Back at Jinx’s hideout, the only sound that can be heard is of the girls laughing while Jinx reenacts in the most flamboyant way possible what happened an hour ago. You lay lazily on the couch, your head propped on one of the armrests, trying really hard not to stress over the consequences today's recklessness will bring. You should've known better. Of course Jinx would follow you and try to explode something just for the fun of it. Also she never did get back at your mother for sending you on a mission to try and capture her so you kind of have to admit she had the right to do so. You cover your face with one arm and try your best not to let anxiety take over. After a brief while, you hear someone approaching and by the heavy sounds of boots on the metal ground, you know Jinx is coming to bother you, again.

“Not right now Jinx.” You warn her, but the last thing you could expect is her climbing on top of you and casually straddling your legs. You look at her incredulously, your gaze jumping all over her body and her face. “What the hell-” You start to say, but she cuts you off.

“Cheer up Trinket! We're about to have the time of our lives!” She lets out one of her outrageous laughs and starts tickling your sides with her slim fingers. “Isha help me out here!” She shouts for the child to come join in on torturing you.

“Stop! You're insane!” You try to hold her hands on a tight grip but Isha is already climbing on top of you too. “Traitor! I thought you were on my side!” You try to shout with bravado but the tickling gets to you making you giggle uncontrollably.

“Raise hell!” Jinx commands and manages to free her hands from your grip. You all end up falling to the floor when in an attempt to escape you throw yourself off the couch.

Everyone is laughing now at your utter defeat, tears coming down your face, all worries and anxiety forgotten momentarily. The girls stop attacking you and you try to steady your breathing, giggles dying down slowly. Isha throws her little arms around you and lays on your torso with a big smile on her face. Following the small girl’s action, Jinx also places her body on top of both of you, though her face is close next to yours. You can smell the intoxicating scent of her hair and you can feel her breathing tickling your ear.

“Guess you're not so tough after all.” She whispers into your ear and you have to suppress a shiver that threatens to course through your body. 

“Alright, alright you got me. Now let me breathe please.” You admit defeat and the girls start pulling off of you. Isha gestures for the party to start so Jinx gets up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before taking it and she puts more force than needed to pull you up so you end up flushed against her, faces inches from each other, her hand swiftly finding the small of your back to steady you.

“Time to shake those ol’ bones of yours.” She whispers. You can't help but stare at her plum colored lips as they move. She smirks and you sigh, pulling away from her. You let out a shaky “right” and walk past her to join Isha by the work station. 

The lights are turned off and Isha's doodles glow in the dark of the hideout, making everything fluorescent. Jinx turns on colorful strobe lights, and music starts to blast through a gramophone speaker, giving life to an improvised dance floor. Before everyone starts dancing though, Jinx covers Isha's eyes as you walk over a makeshift table covered with a cloth. Jinx counts to three and you lift off the cloth to reveal a banquet to a very excited Isha, who wastes no time and dives right in.

You pour yourself a cup of a lightweight liquor, not intending to get wildly drunk tonight, or any night for that matter when you're around Jinx. You fear you won't be able to hold back your annoying crush on her if you don't stay sober. Surprisingly (or not really), Jinx doesn't drink alcohol, preferring a sugary soda instead. She is the first to start dancing, followed by Isha who has her mouth full of chocolate. You don't remember ever seeing her this happy ever since you met her, even though that wasn't that long ago.

You start bopping your head nonchalantly, lingering by the table, just watching the girls having fun with a dopey grin on your face. You decide all of that ordeal earlier was worth it because of this moment. Jinx twirls Isha around once and they giggle happily jumping up and down to the rhythm of a rock song. Your eyes catch Jinx’s gaze for a second and she starts strutting over to you.

“This is a dance party, Trinket! You need to dance!” She leans close to your face. Your stupid heart skips a beat but you manage to steady it. “C’mon! Just pretend like it's a club!” She shouts through the music. 

“I'm not a good dancer!” You retort. She gives you an unimpressed look and then you feel tiny hands pull on your own. Isha is guiding you to the middle of the dance floor so you can dance together.

Is there anything you wouldn't do for this little girl? You can't think of anything as you start moving a little unsure of how you're supposed to do this. Isha's energy is contagious so you can't help but let yourself be free as well. Jinx appears next to you after a moment and hands you a chocolate covered strawberry, munching on another one herself. You take it and savour the sweet contrast of flavours in your mouth, Gods it's been a while since you had food like this. 

You catch Jinx licking chocolate off the tip of her thumb and you're suddenly hypnotised. You wish it was you licking the sweet off of her, or the other way around would be great too. Her lips curl into that god awful smirk so you look away, thinking the liquor is already getting to your head. Isha grabs your hand and makes you twirl her around just like Jinx did so you concentrate on the small child again, happy to oblige.

After a while of just the three of you jumping around, mimicking an assortment of animals and you and Jinx singing loudly to popular songs together, you decide to take a break, sitting down by the floor with a chicken thigh on one hand and half of your cup of happy juice on the other. The girls join shortly after, eating like they haven't seen food for months. And to be quite honest, food was really scarce in the hideout since you couldn't be going out often to steal meals, so yeah, they probably haven't eaten this well in a while.

You don't let yourself dwell on the hardships of everyday life for long though, the girls are already finding a way to entertain you. This time they play with the remains of their food, making funny faces. Jinx pretends to be a vampire by sticking chicken bones under her upper lip as if they were her fangs. Isha uses the bones as horns on top of her head. You just laugh wholeheartedly at their creativity but don’t join in on the food play. After eating as much as you could though, it was time to get back to the dance floor.

A more sultry song starts playing and Jinx really gets into it. Swaying her hips effortlessly to the beat like she knew the exact moves to it. You were yet again mesmerised by her, slowing down your movements almost to a halt, just moving your body side to side. Jinx locks eyes with you, pupils completely blown by the lack of light, probably. She starts moving closer but this time for some reason you couldn't look away.

“If you think I'm pretty, lay your hands on me.” She mouths the lyrics once she is standing in front of you. Your hand lifts magnetically towards her hip, but you hesitate pulling it away slightly. “I know you can’t stop thinking ‘bout it.” She sings again, taunting you. Your head feels hazy in the best way possible when she moves even closer to you, but your body knows exactly what to do.

You rest your hand on the hip she has covered with powder blue clouds, and her skin feels electric. She wastes no time laying her hands on you though, running her fingers almost reverently through the tender skin of one of your arms. Jinx checks you out shamelessly, pink spinel eyes coursing through your body with hunger. You feel a shiver course through your spine when her hand travels from your shoulder to the back of your neck, holding you there steadily so you find yourself frozen under her spell, unable to think any coherent thoughts when she has her hands on you like this.

Jinx takes your free hand and guides it to lay on her waist, making you feel the sensual sway of her body. You swallow hard and her eyes follow the motion, making her carom her skinny fingers through your choker necklace and towards your shoulder, before brushing a strand of your hair behind it. This time you can’t help but shiver when the tips of her fingers graze the skin of your neck in the process. She puts her hand on your waist right after, guiding you to sway like her, but it's hard to do anything when your body feels like it's on fire. She giggles at your apparent lack of coordination, seemingly oblivious to the real effect she has on you.

You snap out of it when fireworks suddenly burst out of nowhere illuminating the space pink and blue. The song changes and you both hesitantly remove your hands from each other. You try to hide the scorching heat creeping up your face by grabbing your cup and downing the last remains of your drink. Jinx moves away from you to start spinning aimlessly around with Isha, who seems hell bent on making herself dizzy just for fun.

“Careful, you’re gonna get sic-” You don’t get to finish your sentence because Isha throws up all over the floor, making a mess. Jinx lets out a surprised laugh and the kid hugs herself for a moment, looking embarrassed, before her mouth turns into a frown and tears start pooling around her eyes.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay kid, don’t worry about it, let’s get you cleaned up.” You’re immediately by her side, cradling her head and wiping at the tears falling down her face. You take her hand and start guiding her to the “bathroom” right outside the hideout.  

“Ugh fine, I’ll clean up the mess!” Jinx shouts from a distance. You glance back at her and give your best apologetical smile before disappearing out of sight.

Later that night, you’re at the top of a nextdoor building trying to get some fresh air, or as fresh of an air as Zaun can provide. Your legs dangle on the edge of the long forgotten structure as you watch the distant glow of the progress city. Jinx was putting Isha to bed as she always does every night, and you didn’t want to intrude on their little ritual, besides your head was still swirling a bit with the effects of the alcohol you had earlier, making your mind keep going back to the dance you shared with the wild girl.

This was getting out of your control, which scared you shitless. You knew for certain Jinx wasn’t the kind of girl who falls in love, or she doesn’t seem to be, so she would never reciprocate your little infatuation with her, which in your opinion is childish at best. You sigh heavily, thinking back on how her skin felt under your touch, and about her damn barely there clothes, and about how her tattoos adorn her body perfectly.

“Slow down or your head is gonna explode.” You hear Jinx’s playful voice behind you. “Y’know, from all the thinking you’re doing.” She continues. You turn sideways to glance at her, and unfortunately she still looks wildly tempting. You scoff, turning away.

“Get yourself a mirror, will you?” You banter back. She giggles and plops herself down next to you so close your thighs are touching, making you tense up.

“Aw Trinket, you’re no fun! Just when I thought you were starting to loosen up a little.” She purrs her last words, propping her forearm on your shoulder, face close to yours.

“My name is Shiv, y’know.” Your voice trembles, nerves betraying you. She lifts her eyebrows and smirks at you.

“Is that so Y/N?” She whispers, her warm breath brushing the side of your face. Your eyes widen slightly, how the hell does she know that? But you quickly recover.

“Been digging up my dirt, huh?” You say casually. She smiles sweetly and moves so her head is resting on your shoulder.

“Heh yeaah, I might have…” She chuckles, watching the city ahead. You stay silent, because of course she has. You think it’s only fair since you know everything about her past too, about Powder. You take a deep breath catching a whiff of her scent, rusty with hints of something sweet you can't quite identify. It nearly drives you insane.

“Sooo… you think I’m pretty, huh?” She interrupts your internal turmoil only to cause a full blown panic in you. You tense up when she lifts her head to look at you.

“Stop fucking around, Jinx.” You warn her but it comes out more like a plea. You chance a furtive look at her and regret it immediately since she has that damn knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m not. I um… liked the way you touched me.” She says almost shily, slowly placing her hand on top of yours and squeezing it lightly. You honest to god do not know what to do with that information. You glance at your hands together and back at her face, trying to figure out what is going on here.

She’s just trying to rile you up as usual, right? There’s nothing more to this than her trying to toy with you, right? That’s what you are to her, a trinket, right? She probably just wants to use you to satisfy her needs and then throw you away, right? You can admit she is hitting on you but it’s not like she has other options, right? She just needs a quick fuck to make her forget all her problems momentarily and let off some steam, right?

Maybe then she would stop randomly blowing shit up and stop talking to herself like there are invisible people around. Maybe you should give in, perhaps this would do you good as well. But what about afterwards? How could you move on knowing how it feels when your bodies are tangled together? Or the taste of her on your tongue? Or the sounds she makes when she reaches her peak? You don’t think you could ever get over that, it would definitely break you.

“Y’know for someone who’s so quick and swift, you’re surprisingly slow witted.” She brings your attention back to her making you frown before biting your lower lip, a decision forming within you.

“What do you want from me Jinx?” You ask her seriously. The look on your face letting her know you are definitely not messing around.

“I want… you, silly.” She says tentatively, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. The tenderness of the gesture almost made you flinch, fuck you can’t deal with softness.

You lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head as you slam your lips together in a desperate kiss. She lets out a surprised 'umph' sound but kisses you back, throwing her arms around your neck. You brush your tongue on her lower lip before deepening the kiss, and Gods she tastes so sweet somehow, you can’t help but let out a low moan against her mouth. That seems to spur her on because she sinks her fingers on the back of your head, massaging your scalp making your eyes flutter.

One of your hands paws at her chest while the other grabs her waist roughly, pulling her towards you. The salacious nature of your kiss makes you both let out breathy moans, increasing the heat that threatens to burn your insides. You two part momentarily so you can push at her shoulder making her lay down on the rough concrete floor. You move so you’re hovering above her and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made of her. Kiss swollen lips, chest heaving trying to catch her breath, her pretty lipstick all smeared around her mouth.

Jinx rests her arms on the floor beside her head, and swallows harshly waiting for your next move. You straddle her hips before lowering down your upper body to kiss her again, hands raking through her sides, appreciating the feeling of her firm waist. Then they travel up her stomach right around the time your tongues swirl together, making her squirm underneath you.

You let go of her mouth to lavish her neck with kisses and bruises, biting down at her pulse point hungrily. She lets out small whimpers and quiet moans at what you’re doing to her neck, and when you move your hands to pull up her bralette above her chest, she gasps and arches her back towards you. You start kissing a path down her collarbone, towards her chest, tasting the salt on her skin. One of your hands pinches her left nipple making her moan loudly.

You take the opportunity to soothe the pink areola with your tongue but bite lightly at it soon after. Jinx is a squirming mess underneath you, hands balled into fists beside her head. You take her wrists and guide them to wrap around your shoulders, making her suddenly remember how to use her hands. You huff a chuckle and kiss her hard again, her fingers tangling on your hair.

You paw at her right breast only to be surprised by a feeling of metal lodged in her nipple. You break the kiss to get a better look at it and you spot a silver piercing on her boob, Gods as if she couldn’t get any hotter. You raise an eyebrow at her but she only guides your head towards it, so you waste no time on lavishing her nipple with attention. The sounds coming out of her, a delicious tune to your ears.

You rake your free hand down her side until you reach the hem of her shorts and she bucks her hips upwards. Her thighs are tightly clasped together which is unacceptable, so you snake your hand on the back of her thigh to pull it around your hip. She lifts her other leg and snakes it around you without coercion and you finally let go of her breast with a pop. You lower your hips on her crotch, giving it a tentative grind to watch her reaction, and she rewards you with an obscene moan. Jinx holds your back tightly and claws at it every time you roll your hips into hers.

“Should I stop?” You realise she hasn't said anything ever since you pounced on her like a feral cat. And even though this was supposed to be strictly physical, you couldn't help but check-in on her.

She frantically shakes her head no, desperation crossing her face. “Please don't.” She down right begs and cradles your face, beckoning you towards her lips. You chuckle but kiss her lewdly anyway.

You rest your weight on an elbow and maneuver your free hand to skillfully unclasp the buckle of her tiny shorts, snaking your hand inside to find no other barriers to her saturated heat. You both moan at the sensation of your lithe digits caressing her folds. She was so wet and soft under your touch but you wasted no time on this heavenly feeling before teasing her swollen bud and sinking a finger inside of her. She cries out with a hiss so you freeze your movements studying her face for any signs of pain. This confuses you a bit, since you assumed she was quite experienced at this. But she is so tight, which doesn't add up.

“Does it hurt?” You ask quietly. Her eyes are clasped shut and there's a frown between her eyebrows. Her mouth agape panting slightly. She lays a hand on your wrist and guides you to start moving again.

“S-slow…” She manages to say between whimpers. You acquiesce and start rubbing her engorged clit with your thumb as you slowly start pumping inside of her.

“You feel so fucking good, Jinx.” You whisper against her cheek, peppering kisses all over her face, before reaching her lips, kissing her sweetly.

You can feel her relax a bit, the distraction seemingly working to ease her into pleasure. You start moving a little faster, burying your finger deeper and try to find the spot that will make her eyes roll. She cradles the nape of your neck, and scratches her nails there making you shiver. You try to maneuver your fingers inside her shorts to add another one but the piece of cloth made it hard to pull that off. You ask her to hold on before giving her a quick peck on the lips, then you carefully pull your hand from inside her. She whines and pouts but you reassure her you'll be quick.

You sit on your knees to the side of her and start pulling off her shorts down her legs so she lifts up her hips to help you get rid of it. You also take off her boots in the process leaving her only in her thigh high socks. A breeze swifts by making her shiver, or was it the weight of your gaze admiring her comely body? You graze your fingers reverently through the cloud tattoo adorning her waist before laying down next to her and pulling her close towards you. One arm snaking around her shoulders and the other lifting her leg to rest over your hip.

Jinx cradles your face with her hands again, ghosting her lips on yours before kissing you softly. You caress her thigh before sneaking your hand up to grab her ass, making her gasp into your mouth. You finally move your hand to her throbbing core, massaging her salient clit, which you noticed was a lot larger than the average you have seen in your lifetime. The way it responds to your ministrations, like it has a mind of its own, pulls wetness from your own body. You feel her bury her face on the crook of her neck trying desperately to muffle her loud moans.

“Don't try to hold back, I wanna hear you princess.” You whisper in her ear, the pet name escaping you before you could stop yourself. She lifts up her head and looks at you through half lidded eyes, hazy with pleasure.

You’re cradling her on one arm when you tease two fingers on her entrance, giving her the time to stop you if she wants to. But she just grinds on your fingers making them slip in a bit, her legs already starting to tremble. You carefully push your lithe digits inside of her again, waiting for a brief moment so she can adjust to the stretch before picking up the pace. The combination of your fingers inside of her and the palm of your hand brushing her clit is enough to make her reach her climax, dripping fluid all over your hand. You slow down your movements, helping her ride her high until she gently pushes your hand away.

You wipe it off on your own clothes before you embrace her, making soft patterns on her bare back. She takes a moment to steady her breathing then pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. You smile at her eagerness but her hands start to roam your body so you have to stop her. This has gone far enough and you don't want anyone touching you like this, especially because of what happened 5 months ago with the rich Piltover dude. Even if the person who's touching you is Jinx, you can't do this, not right now. She looks at you with a confused frown on her face.

“But it's your turn toots.” She tries to explain but you're already untangling yourself from her.

“You should head back inside, Jinx. It's getting cold.” You say sitting up, not looking at her. You gather her clothes and hand it back to her. “Don't worry about me.” You say ending the conversation.

You're a coward, you don't dare to look at her because you know the look of hurt on her face will break you. Damn your self control, you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. You think you deserve to suffer for treating her like this. But this is what she wanted, right? Just a quick fuck to forget her problems. So you gave it to her, you tell yourself it doesn't have to be more than that even though your heart is beating so fast inside your rib cage it hurts. You hear her putting her clothes back on quickly as she sniffles, wiping away under her nose with her forearm. You just sit on the ground with your head low.

“Did I… do something wrong?” She asks with a shaky voice. You swallow hard.

“No, you were perfect.” You say honestly. And that was part of the problem wasn't it?

“Then why won't y-” She starts to protest but you cut her off.

“You got what you wanted didn't you? Now leave me alone.” The harshness of your words cut through the night like one of your sharp blades.

She just stands beside you, stunned probably or pissed off, you didn't dare to look her way to find out. You just wanted her gone or for her to force you to look at her and tell the truth, you didn't know which option was worse really. She finally turns away and storms off the roof but not before kicking an innocent piece of scrap metal that was on her way. You wince and bury your face in your hands, putting pressure on your eyes as if that could prevent the tears from coming. What a mess you’ve made, it's all your fault.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @cafekitsune.

[bitsandbobsfromrandomfandoms]

Harry and Ginny's relationship always seemed very shallow to me. It just didn't seem like they had enough substance between them to end up married.

I even think that Harry had more in his interactions with Luna than with Ginny. Such as how he invited her to Slughorn's party, regretted it and then turned around and had a great time with her. I personally loved how she recognized him even when he was polyjuiced in DH by his facial expression 🤣

The point is, even before I saw the very real possibility of Harry/Draco, I didn't buy Harry/Ginny as a couple and it took me a long time to figure out why.

In fiction, there is this trope called the "cool girl" and it is often contrasted with a "needy, hypersensitive, ultra-feminine uncool girl". There is an excellent deconstruction of this trope here.

In OotP, Cho, from her perspective, had every reason to be traumatized and emotional but this was off-putting to Harry. Ginny was literally written to be the opposite of Cho, she's the "cool girl" to Cho's "uncool girl". In DH, Harry even says he likes that she's rarely weepy and he thinks having 6 brothers toughened her up.

People like Ginny from the books but when you stop to think about it, she comes off more as a one-dimensional caricature than a character. She's basically the cool girl trope to a T and she and Harry don't talk about any of the heavy emotional things. All of that stuff just remains unsaid between them and honestly, that is not something to want in a marriage.

When you have been through some bad shit in your life and you're in a committed relationship, you'll be awfully surprised how much effort you have to go to, to talk about that stuff because all the bad things you bury rears its ugly head and affects the relationship.

What I don't get, is that there was so much time to rectify this. It's like Harry didn't really start to notice Ginny existed until the 6th book even though he's been spending the summer with her family almost every year and she's in same house as him. We don't know anything about her, we get "she's pretty, great at quidditch, they're dating and Harry's happy" 🙄

They dated for about 3 months when Harry was 16! And he broke up with her to go Horcrux-hunting. You really expect me to believe they ended up married? And not to put a finer point on it, but even when this sort of thing happens in real life, it's rare! This is dumb. It's giving that stunted view of love that people have when they're teenagers where you meet someone at 16 and you stay with them forever.

At best Harry/Ginny seems like a dead-end kind of love where there is no possibility for change or growth and at worse, they might not be good for each other at all. This could have been avoided altogether if she was developed as a character.

I keep thinking about the fact that hinny is kind of the opposite of drarry in the sense that Harry really shouldn't know that much about Draco but he does, while he should know a lot about Ginny but he doesn't.

Harry and Draco aren't friends and aren't even in the same House but Harry is so attuned to him that he remembers items Draco looked at in a shop more than 4 years previously, knows every detail of his appearance down to the exact shade of his eyes and skin, and can recognize him instantly just by the sound of his footsteps or a glimpse of him from far away. He also knows a lot about Draco's interests and beliefs and can usually tell his exact mood just by a look at his face.

Conversely, Harry and Ginny are in the same House and Harry has also spent every summer since second year living with her, plus holidays during 5th and 6th year. They also start dating in the end of sixth year. Despite this fact Harry has never even been in her room till 7th year and when he goes in, he shows no sign of recognition at the posters he sees there. You'd think, for example, that he would already know that she likes the Harpies and the Weird Sisters and thus think about how of course she has that in her room, or something. Who are her friends? Who knows? Certainly not Harry! What kind of wand does she have? Harry doesn't know. (Even though he does know both of these things about Draco). What does she want to do after graduating? How did she handle the trauma of what happened with Riddle in book 2? Does she have any insights from that that could be helpful? No idea. Harry's doesn't care and isn't interested in finding out.

Honestly, when he thinks of her it's mostly about her physical features. And even then, her eye color only gets mentioned once - in book 7, and we still don't get the specific shade. I'll buy that he feels lust for her. But love? Honestly I find myself once again thinking about the parallels between hinny and ron/lavender.

Consider:

Versus:

Kinda sounds like both the relationships being described are light on the talking side of things...

Also guess what the first thing Harry does after kissing Ginny, the alleged love of his life is? If you guessed "looks lovingly into her eyes" or "says something to her" you'd be wrong. Here's what goes down:

That's right guys, gals and nonbinary pals. He looks right over the top of Ginny's head (and isn't that a metaphor for their relationship right there - he's literally overlooking her to think about other stuff) to check in with Ron. His actual priority - the person whose opinion and regard he actually cares about.

[venussaidso]

Ketu is like if Mars were on so much steroids that he turned to smoke. But look, Ketuvians to me are also like Solar natives. Ketu and Sun nakshatras deal with self-realization, self-isolation, self-empowerment, cutting away the falsehood (in Sun's case, it's shining light ridding of darkness and ignorance) and non-duality, but all in different ways. Ketu is more dissociative and radical about these themes. Sun is more about an inward alignment associated with boundlessness, following a higher path which translates to more inner abundance. That's where their differences turn them into complete opposites, as the Sun represents the highest form of truth, and has to remain stable and continuously burn away negativity. Ketu is a Shadow planet, where disillusionment could lead to chaos, even more illusions and confusion.

Sun comes in already boundless, believing anyone can make anything for themselves and do as one likes so long as they follow their own internal compass. There's an inherent sense of royalty in all Sun nakshatras, and the boundlessness is evident in their lack of attachment to outer things, not needing them to define their inner kingliness.

Ketu nakshatras, in these old money/royalty themes, are literally held down by their roots. Which is why they can become more troubled, radical or dissociative because of their restrictive background. Their royal background and roots play a bigger role, compared to the boundlessness of Sun nakshatras and the inner king we see in them. I made a post showing the patterns in King Arthur to Magha and its trine nakshatras. Magha is in the Leo rashi (ruled by the Sun), and it is symbolized by the throne; the deities of Ashwini nakshatra are the princes who are sons of the Sun god (notice the paintings of them have a Solar radiance or the literal Sun following them (symbolizing their roots, and their natural solar radiance)). This could explain why I see similarities with Sun and Ketu nakshatras, and how their themes could parallel to a certain extent.

I'm currently busy with my Sun Dominant Themes post. It's not anything special since it does speak of literally... what I just said here lmao.

Also, Pierce Brosnan and Sean Connery are both Solar natives who portray the character James Bond. While Daniel Craig's James Bond is darker, as he is as a Ketu native.

Even in these gifs, you could tell the difference between the Sun and Ketu naks. The Sun manifests into one being more effortless and even arrogant, while Ketu could make one more broody and intense.

[ourzeui]

please don't be a snitch!

PAIRING caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

TYPE oneshot

NOTE this is in modern setting! reader has a twin, and they have opposite personalities (reader = a lil' shy; twin = brazen)

CW mature themes, alcohol use, suggestive content, strong language (cursing!!), anxiety/stress

11:59 PM — Friday night.

This was definitely a bad fucking idea.

You repeatedly glance at your wrist watch, legs fidgeting as you try so hard to not leave your twin sister alone. Heart ramming against your chest, you desperately hope your sister will soon get tired from dancing around the room and decide that both of you will just go home and rest. Because, anytime now, your strict parents would realize that both of you still aren’t home and would go berserk once they find out you’re out clubbing. In other words, you and your sister would be killed. Both metaphorically and literally.

This wasn’t your idea in the first place. The thought of random people just eating each other’s faces out, touching each other’s bodies where one thing leads to another… it, uh, just rubs you off in the wrong way. You just can't shake off the feeling that there's a big possibility that something bad might happen, with the alcohol driving people mad crazy. If your twin sister didn’t force you to go with her, you’d probably never step foot in a club. Ever.

You can’t help but cringe as you see your sister flirt with another guy for what seems like the twentieth time today. Both of them giggle on the corner of the room, shamelessly checking each other out. A minute later, the guy drags your flushed twin to one of the random rooms, no doubt going to do…whatever it is that they’re going to do.

Upon realizing what’s happening, your heart immediately drops to the floor. Despite having absolutely zero hook-up experience, you definitely know where that is going.

“That shithead,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly try to follow your sister and her partner. Squeezing through the sweaty dance floor, you see your twin giggle as the guy playfully pushes her inside the room, followed by the door slamming with a loud thud despite the blasting disco music. You wonder how desperate could your sister be for deciding to follow a random man alone in a closed room knowing what could possibly happen.

Well, your sister did repeatedly say she was "dying to get laid" months prior. Maybe today was the day she was finally getting that.

But maybe today was also the day she’s going to die because she’s about to do something she might regret for the rest of her life (+ your parents will, again, definitely k-word both of you if she’s caught).

Before you could even approach the door, you spot a familiar blue-haired woman, sitting down cross-legged near the bar counter.

Caitlyn.

Upon seeing her, your heart drops the second time, beads of sweat forming on your temples. Both you and your sister should get out now, because if Caitlyn sees you and asks where your sister is, both of you should be prepared to never see the light of day again.

Here's the thing: Caitlyn's parents are close friends of your parents, so it's inevitable that you'd often meet each other. Both of you had never shared a proper conversation before though, just a few hello's and a "Can you please pass me the sauce?" over the table during family dinners.

One thing you know about Caitlyn though is that she always does what she thinks is right.

…She will be a snitch if she wants to.

The reason why her presence right now is so unnerving is because you can't forget the day how your mother made her promise that she should tell her immediately if "one of her daughters are caught doing crazy things", and Caitlyn always keeps her promises.

And just your luck, Caitlyn looks up at the perfect time, her piercing blue eyes locking on yours.

You freeze.

She tilts her head slightly, the corner of her mouth curling in what looks suspiciously like amusement. You can already feel the lecture forming, not from her but from your parents, the second she makes that phone call.

She picks up a glass, takes a sip, and then—oh no—stands up, walking through the crowd until she’s standing right in front of you, effortlessly poised despite the chaos around you both.

“Funny seeing you here,” she says, her voice smooth but carrying a note of dry humor.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like,” you stammer, hating how defensive you sound.

She raises a brow. “Isn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like your sister just disappeared into a room with a guy who probably doesn’t know her name, and you’re about to have a heart attack trying to figure out what to do about it.”

You wince. “Okay, maybe it is what it looks like. But—”

"But you didn’t want to be here in the first place,” Caitlyn finishes for you, crossing her arms. “And now you’re stuck cleaning up the mess.”

You nod, a little surprised she understands so easily.

“Let me guess,” she says, her smirk growing. “You’re worried I’m going to tell your parents.”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The rate of your heartbeat increases each second, and you fidget your fingers.

Caitlyn sighs, shaking her head. “Relax. I’m not going to snitch.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” she says simply. Then she leans in slightly, her voice quieter but firm. “But I am going to help you.”

“Help me?” You blink, confused.

“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes slightly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because if you go barging into that room on your own, you’ll probably make things worse. So, let’s handle this together before your sister does something she regrets.”

You hesitate, unsure if you can trust her, but something about her calm, confident attitude is reassuring.

“Why would you help me?” you ask.

She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Because I’ve been in your shoes before. And honestly? It’s better than having your mom yell at me for not stepping in.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

Caitlyn’s smile widens, just slightly, and for the first time, it feels genuine. “Follow my lead.”

Instead of heading toward the room, Caitlyn gestures toward the bar.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, looking between her and the door where your sister disappeared.

“Relax,” she says, grabbing two stools. “We’ll give it a minute. If we charge in too quickly, your sister’s just going to get defensive and make things worse. Trust me on this.”

You hesitantly sit beside her, tapping your fingers against the counter. Caitlyn orders herself a soda, which surprises you. “Not drinking?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “I like to keep a clear head in places like this. Too many people lose theirs.”

You nod slowly, watching her as she takes a sip. For someone who’s in a club, surrounded by chaos, she seems so calm, like none of this fazes her.

“So… do you come here often?” you ask awkwardly, desperate to fill the silence.

She laughs softly. “Not really. A friend dragged me out tonight, but she ditched me for some guy about an hour ago.”

You wince. “Sounds familiar.”

Caitlyn smiles, her eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, but at least I ended up with better company.”

You blink, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, her voice softer. “You’re a good sibling, you know that?”

You scoff. “I’m just trying to keep her out of trouble.”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head, studying you. “Not everyone would go through this kind of mess for someone else. It says a lot about you.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you find yourself fidgeting under her gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” she insists, her tone warm but firm. “And I think it’s admirable.”

Before you can respond, Caitlyn glances toward the door where your sister disappeared. She sighs and stands. “Alright, I think we’ve waited long enough. Ready to be the hero?”

You nod, your heart racing as you follow her. But as you walk beside her, you notice the way her shoulder brushes against yours, the way her presence somehow makes you feel less panicked and more… safe.

Your heart flutters again, and you stare intently on Caitlyn's back. BUT, your heart drops for the third time today as your phone rings.

Mom <3 Missed call (34) Slide for more

Shit.

© ourzeui, 2025

[abbinurmel]

This whole post and all its concepts is SUCH an awesome idea. For not just Dnd alone, but also ALL fantasy media. I confess I was having my own dorky set of ideas on rebooting lizardfolk. But nowhere as good as this one.

I was considering a very different spin: what if one took ALL of the negative stereotypes associated with lizards? All the problematic irl political reptilian conspiracies, the outdated “cardboard brute savage” inherent in lizardfolk and similar races in DND, all the true and untrue stuff known to science about real dinosaurs, the phobia of modern reptiles and how venomous snake bites work, and the cool lore/less cool but interesting Creationist ideas of dragons, and their depictions in myth, AND the cavemen who lived with Dinos Creationism falsehoods, AND the depictions of lizard kaiju like Jurassic Park/Godzilla…

...what if one was to actually push them ALL into together, into one crazy stew, and made up an absurd tight knit DND origin concept, as the Lizardfolk backstory?…all the eugenics and Nazi propaganda, and Creationist/Aryan theorist dinosaur origins AND the popular myths about reptiles as animals that are false(they are ‘icky’ or ‘slimy’ and they ‘don’t have feelings’)- what if we mix them ALL and yet go in all of the VERY POLAR OPPOSITE OF DIRECTIONS, philosophically? What if we took lies and disinfo and use them from a reverse *positive* slant, as tropes. By going so ABSURD over the top it thumbs the nose at people who make all these bad ideas about reptiles, Jews/gays/the Liberals who they represent them by, both figuratively and literal. What if we steal these bad ideas, creatively mashed them til it becomes unrecognizable, if not wholesome and completely unique fantasy lore, separated from the original inspirations, and one plays it as a means of taking our collective identities back, thinking about different spiritual and secular philosophies, and just mainly for creative funny laughter?

One example: There was once a specific race, of gigantic, scaly, godlike long lived creatures…DRAGONS…they were ‘aliens’ or like angels, or the Urskek from the Dark Crystal. Great mysterious cosmic beings of vast, vast power and knowledge, but still, at heart, an expressive and inherently ‘flawed’ race, not an all knowing divine one. Basically High Elves, with added space travel or dimension hopping. They are a platoon of ‘Space Lizards’, if you will. (Reptiloids)

They came to your fantasy realm using superior tech/magic, and inhabited a world that before our time, was pure wilderness. Then humans, dwarves and other races, of much smaller lifespans and intellect, all started to evolve. The High Ones also start to breed with them….(Angels/Demons in biblical and other religious myth.)…this leads to things like Naga and Kobolds and even goblins and maybe other established creatures.

Some of them abide this, some do not, as wars or schisms of philosophy are thrust upon them. Some squabbles and scandals. Dragons as a whole are often growing less harmonic, less interested in Enlightenment, more so in teams of selfish power, cult worship and pushing who is the real head honcho/has the better fate of humanity idea and the fate of Magic itself. Soon baser, more material desires emerge, and Dragons are fighting each other more, and trying to outdo each other both in forms of magic, enhanced bodies for greater strength, and soon learn of the concept of Greed, and Worship, knowing how having often more gold attracts followers or charity beggars /more bribery of kings and armies/more access to magical artifacts and natural land sources of great power for themselves. The Dragon ideology shrinks in scope as the dragons once ethereal more long lived cosmic forms become ‘baser’, for better or for the worse. They grow to hoard gold, but also now get to understand ideas of Art and Beauty and Flamboyance. They learn to fight and even eat each other. But thru this also understand the concepts of now ‘Standing for the Greater Good in Defense of our beloved humanoids/A noble good god who sacrifices their life in fighting the Evil god’s imperialist destruction/humanoids are NOT inferior or to be made to be our pets or study lab animals, they deserve our Love and Guidance but not OUR WORSHIP and RULE over their life./Individualism vs Collective Spirituality/Equality for All to Mix and severance of old cultural ways and religious ties vs. the need for Ancestral Pride and in more negative way, Bigotry.’

(Fantasy quests, More Ancient Aliens and loose ideas of creation myths, the Fall of Man and Biblical story archetypes, all of real human history, the prehistoric dinosaurs. Human History Misinformation. Evolutionary competition between reptiles and earl tribes.)

Supposed fears of Dragons ‘de-evolving’ and ‘loss of our magics/our pure lizard genes’ concerns arise, both fabricated and grossly exaggerated and yet, some mildly based in fact alike. To a degree, as dragons mix, THEY DO grow small and more humanoid and less long lived, less toughly powerful, both physically and magically….but they ALSO get more CLEVER….they develop war machines, and languages, and technologies that never have been seen before. And let’s not exclude all the actual learned concepts of Love and Carnal Sex that do emerge out of these dalliances with the other creatures.

All of this, it is neither good, or bad, it is just inherently NEW, and for the Old Dragons, the really really BIG ones who still remain of the ancient ones and bear their ways, and those whom are of the younger generations but who admire the ancient ways and the size and powers of the ones before who came to this land, they wonder if the humanoids and/or they can ever ‘ascend’, or return back to the spirituality/might/actual plane of reality they supposedly once held. Some dragons create whole spiritual schools of thought around this, and develop ways of living in harmony with the world, to purify the soul and raise one’s consciousness back to a higher reality and Love for all things. (Founders of major religion and schools of thinking like Taoism, Kabbalah, Buddhism, Christianity, the New Age religious guru figures, martial arts and spiritual meditation and psychedelic practices as rituals to get cosmic oneness or feel linked back with nature/achieve a better sense of identity and wholeness in therapy,…and on the negative side, the dark con artists and cults who manipulate these ideas. There are those whom worship in the service of a god who believe in lifes of simplicity, shunning Hate and Material needs, and in offering constant shelter, aid and merciful kind advice to others, like certain orders of real world monks, and the friars and nuns of the Medieval ages who weren’t concerned with status or war, just being able to harbor the sick and the poor, and the undertrodden… and those who claim to be about this, yet take it so far, it becomes a dragon who demands HUMANOID SUFFERING, mental or physical, to achieve their ‘enlightenment’/bring this dragon its twisted warped idea of ‘being true enlightened overlord beings again.’ Anyone who questions the dragon’s authority or beliefs, shall be brainwashed, sacrificed and eaten or violently tortured to be made an example of.(MesoAmerican human sacrifice, the majority of religious history, witch trials. Evolutionary competing again, predator animals using mimicry and biological trickery such as pheromones, hypnotic voices, other DND magic macguffin plots,to lure followers to their cult and also gain prey.) These deceptions ESPECIALLY work on Kobolds and the eventual denizens of the tinier Lizardfolk, who grew from aforesaid hybrids of Dragon/other monster species.

“WAIT” I hear you ask, I thought ya said Early Dragons are HUGE, cosmic beings. How did they FUCK primitive man….yknow, size wise.

AH, but you see, that’s the beauty of being *magical lore* with SpaceLizards/religious allegory/real world evolution and science. All that shit is GOOFY, and all KINDS OF crazy manifested things happen! …why, just look at starfish and fungi and sea squirts and special worms, tell me HOW IN THE WORLD, do you get US, somehow ALSO being closely by DNA being related to THAT.

And, tell me ALSO another wacky common alien/myth trope?

We don’t actually *fuck* the Dragons. We later fuck their descendants, who bear humanoid organs and size proportions, but the so-called REAL Dragons. These dragons simply mated with us via technology, thru alien SCIENCE(coff I mean magic) aka Grey Aliens aboard a ship we I mea, A COOL FLOATING SKY CASTLE LAIR, probes style OR, as a ritual on a dream plane or psychotropic spirit plane style…. Maybe, maybe, the whole Jesus getting put into the Virgin Mary…IS AN ALIEN DRAGON REPTILOID GOD THING. (YEAH I AM GOING THERE, BRO, COME SHARE THIS BONG WITH ME!)

Just kidding. I do not take any of this seriously. You can like all DND stuff take or leave whatever makes sense and whatever does not.

ANYWHOOZ. These Parents of Lizardfolk. These dragons, they see this crazy debauchery going on, and some see it as an excuse to spread their seed far and wide, establishing whole nations and tribes of Kobold and Lizard people to either far or dotingly worship them/pursue glorious wisdom or science along to honor them, and, for some OTHER ones, all of this stuff is only ‘modern child garbage’ and even frightening. Remember, these guys can live for CENTURIES, so all these games of Humanity, are like, watching someone play GTA all day and all night. Quaint and inoffensive at first, sorta novel and interesting, but by a certain point it gets boring and stupid at lowest, unhealthy and unnerving at the middle end, ans HOLY SHIT STOP WITH THE VIDEOGAMES , I MUST CRUSADE A STOP TO THIS MONSTROSITY THAT IS POISONING OUR YOUTHS….and, like with all things, to some extent, they are correct, to some extent, they are very misguided and very very wrong. Dragons are USED to being the supposed top apex predators, and when the humanoids began to be sapient, as powerful idols of holy guidance. Many of the original cosmic High Council decided ‘Let’s aid these poor struggling souls/teach them not to fuck around with magic SO badly so they don’t present us with a rivaling threat, but, let us teach them enough about the secrets of the universe some of them can still be more useful and propagate ’, and so, they teach them of great ideas, give them language and symbols. Some extra special humanoids even get to flaunt their power or wealth in return for being such a good servant/literal hybrid born bastard child of theirs/religious recruiter. Some could become kings or heads of state, or belong to special enlightened / “enlightened” societies and clubs, that don’t REALLY know everything yet THINK they do, and will behind the scenes pull all the strings of humanity. (Warmongers, Illuminati, Reptiloids again, Cults/pagan societies during the Age of Reason and The Enlightenment Period in Europe, The Masons, Knights Templar and other similar groups, the rise of established universities, corporations, scientists with guarded military secrets, Popes, global alien conspiracy, missionaries, and much, much more….)

We start to rebel against our ‘gods’. Often. A lot. It often isnt pretty. We hunt them, they hunt us. We try to beg for reason, they try to beg us to see reason. Sometimes it works, if a Lizard or Kobold acts as an ambassador/holy priest. Sometimes, the dragon just says ‘fuck off, my ungrateful children, imma gonna eat ya now.’

But remember, the dragons, THEY ARE NOT gods, and the Lizardmen are also not children of gods, they are just LIZARD ALIENS. They do flawed things and lizard folk do flawed mundane things too. They build many different cultures and types of villages, they try to achieve a lack of humanoid emotion, to varying result. And also to varying result, some may have xenophobic ideas about breeding with mammals and some make efforts to be as nonhuman as able by living naturally in the wilds, or in lairs which are spiritual attempts at matching the giant mysterious alien aesthetic and structures and vehicles their ancestry supposedly had. Some might even go so obsessive as to dig up and preserve the bones of their dragon idols and worship them like holy relics, or just put on glorious prominent display, like in science museums, to objectively marvel at and study. (Giant ancient alien chunks again, paleontology.)

They can like real lizards do shed molts, and they and dragons alike need to both eat, and they get weaker without heat source. Hence Lizards I can see flocking to mostly warmer climates, such as deserts, and tropics, with all the inherent tropes associated with such geography irl, and their functions. Cold and food scarcity, and habitat destruction, all these things affect both the macro and the micro, and so, the dragons suffer more and more from the crutches of mortal society and growth, just as much as any great wild beasts do, in real life. When the humans begin to rebel, they lose ground, and habitat, and as result, dragons get small, rarer, meaner. (Bear, sharks, crocs, any larger apex predators being reduced in modern times. The phases of evolution and the modern climate change and other Extinction events destroying reptiles irl.)

As the products of spreading their wisdom and technology changes, so too does the land, and, heck, why not just for completion sake THROW IN A MAGICALLY MANIFESTED ASTEROID OR AN ICE AGE TOO…some human wizard goofed up big time, or maybe some other dragon did, and ruined a lot of people’s days….the dragons start due to the cold going into hibernation, which turns into death, as the permafrost doesn’t leave, all except the mightiest die, who seal themselves in ice, to sleep dormant, for thousands of years….(myths and games again. Actual fossils being discovered of dinosaur and mammoth. Perhaps their bones and preserved remains can be used for DND plot item macguffins.)

As the dragons in this period are dying off, the lizardmen begin to also slow down in brain activity and heighten in aggression and survivalist Spartan qualities. They panic at the way they lose numbers and grow desperate, breeding whenever they can, leading to incest, which makes them MORE stupid…they turn to wandering, bloodthirsting, rough edged brute conquerors, like old classic Orc and Goblin stereotypes, except a bit more cunning, and a bit more magical. Years pass, and their brains are growing more sluggish and stupid, and empathy is stunted, due to the cold, and their once flowering wise cultures, their vast empires, generations crush them into becoming more primitive in style and simple in aesthetic and need, as they go from New Upper Egypt level civilization levels to nomadic tundra climate clans(Mongolian horsemen, Russian pagans, and tiny pockets of hillbilly folk, or cannibal Pulp comic tribes, just little pockets of sneaky predatory buggers, just eating and fucking and scheming and barely struggling to keep their humble rural societies alive, in the face of nonstop filthy human invaders, constant fighting over game, wood to make fires, and shelters to keep sane and alive. All in the face of serving any last straggler dragons who beg and DEMAND worship and fire fuel, to stay alive.

Lizardmen at reclusive because the endangerment of dragons is akin to that of real actual dangerous exotic wild beasts that once roamed and owned the WHOLE PLANET, like sharks, bear, wolves and tiger. They are all now being reduced into smaller wild places in exile, whenever humanoids subvert them, or start to rebel and hunt them, for sport. So Lizardfolk aren’t cold dumb heartless monsters for evil sake. They just are SICK OF THE WORLDS SHIT.

Humans for centuries now are responsible for erasing their gods and destroying their culture, and while it all mostly was for the sake of getting rid of their dragon overlords tyranny, it is also which led to our usual pursuing of gold and the mere spectacle of trophy hunting, and stealing their hoarded precious magical artifacts and inventions…(King Arthurian legends, Eastern Asian myths about certain yokai and forest spirit.) Thus, when dealing among to those who dare show their ass in THEIR FORMER WORSHIPPING TEMPLE RUIN, or THEIR LONELY CAVE SHELTER which is their last resort refuge from both human knights AND other competitive dragons….the more cold hearted ones, who decide to say a big FUCK YOU to the world. Hence, you get ‘chaotic evil’ perceived races, tales like The Hobbit with Smaug.

The bitter dragons get smaller and meaner, more bad ‘clever’ solutions are thought of, and all the while, generations of primordial cosmic wisdom are lost, INCLUDING WHERE THE DRAGONS ALL ORIGINALLY CAME DROM OR WERE LIKE ONCE, IN THE FIRST PLACE. They have come to this planet with the intent to breed and fill it (The Garden of Eden). But instead, they LOST in numbers, as humanoids overtook them and changed them (Replacement theory), and hence MOST dragons, they only grew more solitary and antisocial. More darker magics, more bitter hearts, stupider selfish minds, and more material desires. They know they lost SOMETHING and yet, rarely can claim it, for the very egotistic urge to be MORE, and to pursue, at all cost, to become PERFECT, and never just accept humble surrender, is what clouds the minds most with animalistic behavior and Wants, not Wisdom and Magical Higher Insight. (Buddhism, Monotheism, and Zen again.) Instead of teaching humanity the greatest secrets of the Unvierse….We, made THEM more like US. Dragons, and now as an offshoot, Lizard folk, all follow OUR ideals and act like our fellow wild creatures. Lizardfolk, by extension, are as obsessed with their origins as Dragons, just as clueless, and just as uninhibited as man. All the kinder enlightened unselfish one’s, want peace and harmony, and they share with the humans and other mammalian beings all their wisdom to survive better against their other hateful SpaceLizard enemies. (Eugenics revisionst theories, Ancient Alien Conspiracies, both fanciful and harmless and actually bigoted ones.) They rule over the kingdoms with a dogmatic, parental approach, which like most any council of rulers TRIES to mean mostly well, but like most authoritative figures or parents, gets their charges reaaaaal sick of them telling us what to do and all of their hypocritical other bullshit after a while.

Thus, we generate in their DND world all these cultures and the ideas of ‘Kind Gods’ and ‘Evil Gods.’ (Egyptian and similar animist faiths which use crocodiles and dragons and other elemental beings who act on a spectrum of Kind to Wicked, to Bored Fey/Blue and Orange Ambiguous Mischief.)

…..say where did all the time go, I was supposed to be checking on my car appraisal.

Hey friends, I was thinking of taking a crack at doing an oft requested "monsters reimagined" for lizardfolk in the next little while, but I found myself stalled out on creating an alternative pitch for their lore.

The problem is that there's so little to work with in the " Ignorant primordial savage" role that they've been pigeonholed into that I'm having genuine trouble finding inspiration.

As such, I figured I'd encourage you all to write your own favourite take on the lizardfolk in the replies/comments, and we'll see if we can't brainstorm our way to an awnser.

Here's some of my own thoughts to get you started:

Lizardfolk as they are presented primarily exist to fufill the role of stock primitive antagonists, a one step more fantastical version of the jungle dwelling cannibals often encountered like pulp heroes like Indiana Jones/Doc Savage/Conan the Barbarian.

In many ways they are the epitome of the "fill in the blank baddie", with everything from their culture to their religion to their motivations being wholly based on the fact that they're lizardy lizards who like to do lizard things and could never be anything but. This is flat and boring, and needs to change if we have any hope of doing something with them.

The whole "uninterested in knowledge", " think with their stomachs", "don't have emotions, just instinct" is one of d&d's most glaring examples of biological determinism. It assigns lizardfolk the concept of "spear chucking savages" and then works backwards to justify why they remain savage while detouring through 19th century race science talking points.

When dealing with any kind of anthropomorphic reptile we're inevitably going to get into the "lizard people" conspiracy theory milieu, with all the baked in antisemitism. On top of that, we're also open to ancient aliens style conspiracy theories given how often Lizardfolk are typecast as "ruin dwelling primitives descended from civilizations long before recorded history".

[reidsrambles]

Part 2: New Year's Day

This is part 2 of a duo, so please go read part 1, New Year's Eve, if you haven't yet!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: Again, down the wire! I've been writing literally all day. It's 10 PM and I haven't yet made dinner... I wrote and edited this one basically just today?? So if there are any mistakes or I missed any warnings, pls lmk tysm. Again, credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 3,734

Words (total): 5,759

The kiss is desperate, but not rough. He’s kissing me back, right? I pull my face away. He leans his forehead against mine, both of us panting into the mere inches between our lips. 

He doesn’t loosen his hold on my body. “Is everything okay? We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop.” I grip the fabric of his shirt where my hands lie on his back. “Do you want to stop?”

His hand snakes down to my ass, splaying wide across it. He pulls my body into his, letting me feel his hardening cock.

“I really don’t want to stop,” he breathes into my neck, just below my ear, “but I have to confess something before we go any further.”

What the hell? Does he have an STI that I need to know about? Trouble keeping it up? I mean, that doesn’t seem to be a problem, but you never know. Is he already with someone? Penelope didn’t say he had a partner, but maybe he’s kept them a secret?

We both still, Spencer breathing against my neck. I’d consider it ticklish if not for the jolt it sends straight to my core.

“I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, but I was too scared to say anything.” The words come out of Spencer’s mouth. Not mine. Holy shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I laugh, dropping my head to Spencer’s chest in utter bewilderment. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we met. Penelope hasn’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“Glad I’m not alone in that,” he laughs.

“Happy New Year, by the way,” I say, lifting my head to look at him again. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips. 

“Happy New Year,” he breathes, hovering against my lips. Oppositely charged magnets falling in order with the laws of physics. Complying with the will of the universe.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Maybe it’s the thrill of unrequited lust finally requited, or maybe Spencer is just a really good kisser. His hands cradle my head on both sides. It’s like he could kiss you for hours and never be sick of it. Every soft, lush kiss plays against the intermittent roughness. The desperate ones, where lips are bit and tongues are engaged in the fervor. It feels wholly consuming and incomplete at the same time. 

“We don’t have to do anything else,” I say, “but to be clear, I’m definitely down if you want to.”

He shakes his head and steps back, putting distance between us. He clenches and unclenches his hands and then rubs his palms against his dress pants. 

My eyes catch on the bulge in his pants, and shamelessly, I can’t stop staring at it. I’ve imagined it before, in my most desperate, lonely moments. Right after breakups, when I’d rather escape into my imagination to soothe me. After running into him at one of Penelope’s get-togethers. I’d steal every shy glance at him, trying to memorize his features. Then I’d go home and imagine myself kissing every inch of him.

I know I probably just need a good eight to…twelve hours of sleep to clear the fog in my brain that’s making this feel like another one of my erotic daydreams. But maybe being a bit out of it is what led me to kiss him like that. If I had been at my most rational, I probably wouldn’t have.

Spencer wipes at his face. He can’t stop moving his hands. Biting a nail between his teeth. Gripping the material of his pants. Crossing and uncrossing his arms. 

“[Y/N], you have no idea how badly I want to.” My heart sinks into my stomach. There’s always a but. “But I don’t want it to happen like this.”

I nod slowly, genuinely trying to avoid letting my disappointment come across as pouting. “Okay. That’s fair.”

He looks utterly exasperated, trying to keep his hands off me, and I’ve never felt so horny and so dejected at the same time. If he didn’t clearly state that he’s into me, I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t feel extremely rejected right now.

“I’ve thought about it before,” he says. “What it would be like… to be with you. I just don’t want the first time to be at a party, in Penelope’s guest room”

I sit back down on the bed, willing my body to cool down, but it’s a non-starter. “I’ve thought about it before. What it would be like… to be with you,” playing back in my head on an unending loop. Clenched thighs give my clit the slightest bit of attention and ease the ache every so slightly.

“I’ve thought about it too,” I say, reminiscing about the numerous dirty fantasies I’ve crafted in my head over the years. I owe far too many orgasms to my vibrator, and to imaginary Spencer praising me, begging me to cum.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “God, this is so hard.” 

Hard, indeed. I selfishly ogle the tent in his pants again, taking advantage of the fact that he’s struggling to look in my direction. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. “Do you want to leave?”

He joins me on the edge of the mattress. Again, a respectable distance between us. 

He sighs. “If I don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll have enough self-control to stop myself.”

Yet, he’s sitting beside me, wringing his hands in his lap. 

Before I can formulate any response, he starts. “What about when the party ends?”

“I locked the door on the way in. I didn’t want anyone barging in here trying to find the bathroom. And,” I gesture to the door, the party even louder now that the champagne is flowing, “this party doesn’t die down until three, maybe four.”

“I don’t have a condom, either,” he says quietly.

I push myself up off the bed and walk over to the bedside table. I’ve stayed in this room many times. Usually, when I get drunk or high and can’t drive home. Penelope snores. As much as I love her to bits, if she didn’t have a guest bedroom, I’d be sleeping on the couch. 

I rifle through the top drawer. A couple of individually packaged toothbrushes. A couple of mini bottles of mouthwash. Charging cables. Nope, nope, nope. 

I squat down to look through the bottom drawer, consciously arching my back and popping my ass out a bit. I know they’re in here somewhere. In the back of the drawer, tucked away, is a small, colorful zipper pouch. I’ve stumbled across this pouch before, but I can safely say that I’ve never used it. I hope nobody else has, either, honestly. Tucked inside is a roll of male condoms and a few individually packaged female condoms. 

I (mentally, emotionally, spiritually) cross my fingers as I check the date printed across the wrapper. They aren’t expired. Thank fucking god. 

I rip one off at the perforated line and place it in Spencer’s hand. 

He fiddles with the foil wrapper in his fingers. Not opening it. Just turning it in his hands.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. “Here? Like this?”

“Before tonight, I honestly thought there was zero chance you liked me. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m so incredibly horny right now that it’s actually hard to think straight.” I wrap my hand around his, and he stops fidgeting. “Is there anything else?”

My question is sincere and gentle. Is there anything else that you need to reassure you that I want this? Is there anything else you need?

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but I was tested after,” he says.

“I was tested after my last partner.”

I start undoing my blouse. Button by button. Lower and lower. Spencer mirrors me, undoing his crisp, blue dress shirt. Button by button. Lower and lower.

“And we can stop at any point, so please let me know if there’s anything you want or don’t want,” he says.

“Same goes for you.”

I slide my blouse off and unzip my skirt at the side. With my tights already off, I’m left in just my bra and underwear, my clothes in a pile beside the bed. Spencer takes his shirt off and his pants follow. He tries his best to quickly fold them, and in two large strides, he places them on top of the dresser. 

He turns to face me. In just his underwear, I have quite the view. I don’t even think he’s fully hard, but my mouth is watering at the outline of him. The butterflies are gone, replaced by a pang of hunger. I want to lick and taste every inch of him. The mental renderings I’ve crafted of Spencer in the past are all wiped from my memory. I have no use for them anymore. I have the real thing, actively being encoded into memory. 

He comes to stand between my legs. Still seated, his veiled cock is right in front of my face. 

“[Y/N], there’s just one more question that I have to ask first.”

I can only imagine what he sees looking down at me. As I look up at him through my lashes, my wet lips and flushed, glowing cheeks sit right next to his hard cock.

Does he know that I’ve been rocking my hips and squeezing my thighs together just to pacify my throbbing clit? 

“Can we go on a real date too sometime?” he says. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, and I also don’t want this to ruin my chances with you.” 

I feel stupid for not thinking that far ahead. If he had just wanted this to be a one-night stand, I would have accepted that, even though I know I want more with him. 

I nod and kiss the front of his hip, earning a stuttered breath from him when my cheek grazes his bulge. 

“I’d love that, Spencer.” 

I drag my face across his covered cock. Everything about this—about him—is intoxicating. I breathe him in, my hands on his hips, and the scent feels like a drug I could get high off of. 

“Can you lie down?” he says. 

I have no objections. 

I rip my bra and underwear off as fast as I can manage, pulling my bra over my head instead of undoing the clasps. I toss them to the floor to join the rest of my clothes. I’m, maybe a bit shamelessly, too eager to waste any time. 

Spencer is standing next to the bed, naked, jaw slack, just stroking himself to nothing but my naked body. That’ll do great things for the ego. 

“You are…” he breathes, shaking his head. The words he’s missing hang somewhere in the air, but he doesn’t look away from me long enough to search for them.

He opens the foil wrapper, rolls the condom on, and crawls onto the bed between my legs. I expect him to just shove it in there, but instead, he drags two long fingers through my wetness, absolutely mesmerized.

“Perfect,” he says, staring at my pussy. “So perfect.” 

He slides one finger inside me and I gasp. It doesn’t fill me, but when he takes it out a moment later, I still mourn the emptiness. He takes the same finger into his mouth, eyes closed as he admires the taste of me. 

I’m pretty sure that I can’t get any hornier than I am at this moment. It’s physiologically impossible. 

“Please, Spencer. Fuck,” I whine. “I need you inside me.”

Quick pecks trace a line up my body, and Spencer kisses me, bodies pressed together like he’s never going to kiss me again. It’s deep, sloppy, and passionate. Moaning into each other’s mouths as I grip his hips. His cock is nestled in my center. I grind against it.

Breathless, Spencer lifts his body just enough to reach between us, guiding his cock to where we need it. 

I close my eyes as he enters me; I have to turn off one of my senses to process it. In the black void behind my eyelids, I can feel everything. I can hear everything. A choked moan at the back of my throat breaks free. He pushes in further. Spencer shifts from his hands to his elbows, using the leverage to slide in even more. 

“Oh, god. This is so much better than I imagined,” he says, his voice strained from pleasure.

Was Spencer thinking about me at the same time I was thinking about him? Like two lovers wondering if the other is gazing up at the moon at the same time. I open my eyes. The tufts of hair framing his face flop down, a few stray strands sticking to his face. The room is already warming and his skin glistens in it. 

“What did you think about? What did you imagine?” I ask.

He fills me to the hilt, and his lips find mine; the kiss a fierce declaration that this shared sensation in our bodies is indeed shared. Spencer is feeling the same utter bliss that I am, and the thought of that alone sends a spark to my core. I’m making him feel this good. 

Spencer remains unmoving, huffing breaths intermixed with muttered curses as he adjusts. The part where we’re united throbs like a beating heart, both of our bodies diverting blood from our brains to fuel this tryst. 

“I felt so ashamed thinking about you like that,” he whispers against my cheek, “not knowing if you wanted me, too.”

Pinned beneath him, I push my hips up against him as much as I can manage, desperate for more. Spencer’s eyes flutter closed as he matches my movements, his cock sliding in and out as we grind into each other.

“Did you think about what I’d feel like the first time? Because I thought about what you’d feel like inside me.”

Earning moans from Spencer feels like a gift. A secret that has been bestowed upon me. For my ears only. I want to wrap this secret up and hide it under my bed. To throw it in a box and padlock it shut. I want to place it in a fancy locket, one I hide under my shirt, tucked up safe against my skin where nobody else can reach it.

“I thought about that far too much.” He shakes his head. “But you’re even better than I could’ve imagined.”

He pumps into me a few more times, hard and fast, as our bodies take the wheel, chasing the zenith of pleasure. We move together as a duet. The song? A lullaby of moans, whimpers, and whispered praises.

With each thrust, his body presses against my clit.

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good, Spencer.”

He reaches a hand up to the side of my face, cradling my head and stroking my cheek with his thumb. I can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb is icy in comparison. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He glances at my chest, and then his eyes dart as he takes in the rest of my body. “Your body is perfect.” He peppers kisses across my lips, my shoulder, my neck. Every place his lips touch stings like I’ve been branded. “Perfect,” he breathes against my neck. 

“How did I taste?” I ask, remembering Spencer licking his finger clean.

“Addictive” is the word he chooses, and thoughts of Spencer’s head between my legs—in my own bed—consume me.

He slows, almost to a stop. “Would you mind if I…?”

I finish his trailed-off sentence, not entirely sure if I’m right on the money or not. “Go down on me?” 

He nods, and a breathy, “please,” is all I can manage to squeak out. It would be damn near impossible to think of a single reason to deny this man in his request.

Between my legs—framed like a work of art—Spencer keeps his eyes locked on my face as he trails his tongue up between my lips. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god. Please. Please keep going.”

He moans into my pussy, wasting no time in getting into it. 

“Can I grab your head as I get close?”

He whines, “please,” against my skin, and I tell him to pinch me if he needs me to loosen my grip. 

Spencer’s long arms wrap around my thighs, keeping me from squirming away. I’ve never had anyone go down on me like this. He is feral, barely coming up for air. I reach down to slide my fingers into his hair, feeling myself inch closer and closer by the second. He’s humping the bed, large dimples forming in his plush ass. I just want to dig my nails into it.

One arm lifts from its spot around my leg. Spencer is a man on a mission. He needs that arm, that hand, those fingers. Two fingers slide inside me, and I know I’m not going to last. I squirm against him and he lets me control the penetration, keeping his hand still. His mouth, however, continues in its relentless pursuit. 

I feel like I’ve unlocked something here. This version of Spencer is unleashed. He’s had his taste of the forbidden fruit, and he’s fully invested. 

I grip his head, needing to pull him into me. Needing to control the pressure.

“Spencer, fuck.”

“Yes, baby. Please cum in my mouth.”

“I—” is all I spit out before it hits me. A tidal wave of heat and pressure that radiates from my core. I grip Spencer’s hair between my fingers and he moans even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that, when I open them, my vision is a pinhole vignetted by fuzzy white light. His tongue continues lapping at my center until my thighs trap his head, my clit unable to take anymore. 

My whole body is tingling. Every nerve in my body is on high alert. My ab muscles twitch with each jerky breath as the lingering shockwaves work through me. 

Spencer is kissing my thighs as if each space his lips touch is better than the last. He is relishing in my body. Worshipping it. 

In this state, having cum so hard that my ears are ringing, I probably wouldn’t hesitate to declare my ardent love for him. Thankfully, I have some logic system deep in my brain that remains online and protects me from stupid mistakes like that. 

“Spencer, please. Get back inside me.”

The moan that spills from us both as he slides back inside me, my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks, should be tattooed somewhere on my body. The waveform of it or whatever. My new New Year’s resolution: get a tattoo. Add that to my other New Year’s resolution: let Spencer Reid fucking rail me in every way possible.

His thrusts are already sloppier than before. “Yes, fuck. Yes. Do you know how fucking good you taste, baby? I could eat you out for hours. So perfect.” 

I grab his jaw and kiss him, tasting myself. Tasting me and him mixed together. 

“Spencer, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

I feel tears brimming in my eyes. Exhaustion, overwhelm, pleasure, and lust well up right at the finish line. Every sporadic back-arching thrust flutters my eyelids, pushing a small tear down both sides of my face.

“The first day I met you,” he says, struggling to get the words out fluidly, “you were the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

My hands slide to his ass, and I grip the flesh. I want my nails to leave a mark. I want to claim him as my own. 

“Cum inside me, Spencer.” 

He pounds into me, hard. The passion he showed while giving me oral is back in full force. 

His head falls into the crook of my neck as he works himself to the edge, muffling the dirty string of words that escape as he falls apart. His cock twitches hard inside me as he spills into the condom. I wish he was condomless, shooting his ropes of cum deep within me. But maybe that’s just a dirty fantasy that will never come to fruition. 

Spencer peppers me with some more kisses before getting up to discard the condom in the small trash can beside the door.

“I’ll change that garbage bag before I leave,” he says.

“I’m going to have to tell her,” I say, pulling my underwear up. “I’ll have to do some laundry for sure.” I gesture to the disheveled, dirty sheets. 

“Yeah, I know. She’s nosy, so I bet she’d figure it out regardless,” he laughs. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need. With the cleanup.”

The party noise is more subdued, but it sounds like the majority of guests are still here. The small digital alarm clock beside the bed reads 1:15 AM. 

“Wanna just wait it out?” I ask, straightening out the sheets just enough to crawl under them. “I promised Penelope I’d help her clean up, anyway.”

Spencer slips in beside me and I snuggle into his side, draping my leg over his and wrapping an arm across his chest. 

“I much prefer it in here,” he says, pressing his lips to my temple. 

I kiss him one last time, long and tender, before resting my head on his shoulder. I don’t even get a word out of my mouth before I crash once more.

A sharp knock on the door jolts me and Spencer from our very deep slumber. Morning light filters through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. I rub my eyes, swiping away the remnants of such a sleep. On the plus side, I feel fucking fantastic. Spencer sits up and stretches his arms above his head.

Another knock. Much harder.

“[Y/N]?” Penelope asks through the door.

We hop out of bed to hurriedly finish redressing ourselves.

“Shit, I fell asleep last night! I’m sorry, Pen!” I yell to her.

“Is…Spencer still in there with you?”

“Yes,” I say, annoyed. “Happy now?”

“I cleared off some space on the counter and started making breakfast whenever you two are dressed!”

Previous Chapter: New Year's Eve

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[sandsorghum]

And I sat with my anger long enough...

A Reflection on How Trauma, Rage & Grief shaped Higuruma & Nanami (Differently)

Nah, Don't be fooled - Higuruma is not Nanami 2.0, or just a rebrand of noble, stoic workaholic. I explore some of these psychological nuances below in depth.

Frequent Comparisons

People draw parallels between Nanami and Higuruma mostly commonly through their Frustrations towards the System. For Nanami, that's been both Capitalism and the Jujutsu world, and for Higuruma it's the Justice system. This results in an aura or impression of emotional detachment, but it's certainly not to be mistaken for apathy. Quite the opposite in fact! It's because both men are so propelled by their principles that they don't permit themselves the "luxury" of (excessive) emotional fervour - but there may be some distinctions with how they go about that too!

Both have been worn down throughout the years, but both also have an Inciting Incident of a significant traumatic episode. I'll explore how both the long-term slog and traumas have affected them, but first let's make a distinction about each of their inciting incidents.

Duelling Dualities

Both Nanami and Higuruma's major turning points are based around how they couldn't protect someone they cared about, namely Yuu Haibara and Keita Oe respectively. These two also represent a loss of innocence for them.

On the surface, the loss and demise of a friend during formative years (Nanami was still in his teens!) would seem to have a much more significant impact than "losing" a client or case as a working adult, plus the degrees of emotional intimacy and investment are vastly different.

Nanami has also suffered this kind of emotional gradual decay but his experiences were less high stakes, less intense and less drawn out. As a salaryman he was only enduring it for himself, and didn't have the added burden of inadequate efforts jeopardizing someone else's life or liberation.

However, his loss is more literal than the lawyer's - as far as we know Keita isn't dead, but I can't imagine his fate to be very favourable given the circumstances around his..."mistrial". (I don't know what the legal ramifications of your attorney going berserk and offing the prosecution is, but I doubt those are good odds. I wonder if Keita's fate weighs on Higuruma too, after the canon events in the manga.)

Speaking of which, having someone die in front of you for the first time is monumental, and here's where we have another distinction; the kind of Guilt Nanami and Higuruma suffer. *Survivor's versus Perpertrator's.

[*As a a caveat, I'm no expert in clinical psychology so I want to add it might not be wholly accurate to characterise Nanami's guilt as classic Survivor's Guilt, and it's hard to say to what degree he experienced this specific sort, or for how long, but I'm sure he felt a significant sense of failure at being unable to protect his friend, which later expands into frustration into being put into such a situation in the first place.]

When I said "these two also represent a loss of innocence" earlier, I wasn't referring to Keita's, but Higuruma's corruption when he kills the prosecutor and judge. We are led to believe that Keita is plausibly innocent and didn't commit the crime, and is thus morally whole - whereas there's absolutely none of that ambiguity on Higuruma's part

Higuruma's is a moral failing, compared to young Nanami's one of ability and insufficient experience, exacerbated by the jujutsu system's flaws. We don't have the details about how Nanami's ill-fated mission with Haibara unfolded, only that they expected a second grade curse but were faced with a higher level opponent, which they weren't skilled enough to take on.

Nanami might be able to "offset" some of his guilt at being unable to save Haibara by blaming broader forces beyond him, or his circumstances of being too young and not being better prepared - although I don't think this is his nature to rely on that sort of naiveté reasoning and he carries that grief with him anyway (any iteration of survivor's guilt can be quite immune to logic.)

But for Higuruma, that burden of his ethical lapse rests entirely on his shoulders.

Higuruma fails in a way that feels or can be deemed to be much more personal; even as his actions are also similarly compounded by an unfair system but at the end of the day, he still killed with his own two hands.

There's no rationalising around such a crime of passion. There's no abstracting it out to the tolls and pressures the system takes, even if they are critical factors. The system is broken, and breaks him, and for a while Higuruma would rather blame and contend with its flaws rather than his own.

A man strung up by his own high ethical standards, what is he to do?

Conceits Revealed Through Self-Deceit

In times of severe emotional crisis, it's common for people to avoid the truth of what they really feel and/or want, because it's saddled with a lot of pain. As mentioned above, there's a specific kind of grief that festers with Higuruma's guilt which isn't present with Nanami's.

Higuruma snaps and he has to pick up the shards of his world view, we actually get a pretty coherent albeit funhouse mirror version of his moral reasonings but to be clear, this is less confrontation and more qualifiers to deal with the fact that he's now a murderer.

It manifests as a cynicism-fueled delusion where he attempts to argue, or rather persuade himself the killings were just or justified, not only that but that Culling Game killings could be an equally valid if alternative recourse for justice - his own Domain is a reflection of a courtroom turned theater, satirizing the legal process. A show trial in other words. 1ichtbringer has an excellent analysis that further unpacks how his Deadly Sentencing technique falsely stages a trial so that it appears to be impartial, and points out how Higuruma tampers with the process too. Highly recommend reading it to understand how beautifully deranged Higu's processing is, despite dressing it up in the rhetoric of logic (omg he's a delulu is the solulu girlie just like us!1!!)

Higuruma attempts to assuage his guilt by disregarding the justice system (and to an extent, the moral parameters) he has worked within his entire life, by harping on its limitations and flaws which are all fairly valid, but doesn't negate the fact that he's a criminal now

Furthermore, he is confronted by the contradiction between his and Yuji's killings, and the way each contextualizes their culpability couldn't be more stark. Yuji immediately confesses and doesn't try to rationalise or make any excuses. Higuruma on the other hand contorts his heart and head through several hoops so he doesn't have to feel such guilt - until he does.

From Higuruma's perspective, Yuji wasn't culpable for the Shibuya slaughter. Even as Yuji feels responsible, he is still innocent because he was acting under the influence of someone else's will - unlike Higuruma who carried out his executions with his own volition and more self-awareness. Quite simply, being blinded by rage doesn't hold up in court as a reason. Emotional states and pressures can be considered during sentencing but I doubt they would be much of a mitigating factor. Unfortunately for Higuruma it's difficult or impossible to defend his violent outburst of emotion since his framework of ethics and justice is premised so much on logic, which makes the nature of his moral lapse even more tragic and a particularly effective example of Gege writing dramatic irony.

And now, let's discuss the fiction Nanami Kento sells himself on.

When we get Nanami's flashback in Ch30, we're lead to believe he's the kind of guy who has never worried about "the meaning of life or his purpose on earth". Oddly enough, I think there is an element of truth to this for Nanami - Having faced an existential threat at such a tender age probably puts one off contending with such existential conundrums.

But then shortly after we get these panels:

This echoes one of Marx's central critiques of Capitalism, where workers are separated from both meaning and the means of production. Technically, Nanami's job scope - presumably as some type of wealth/hedgefund manager (or heaven forbid a stockbroker) - doesn't even have a traditionally tangible means of production, which only further reinforces the lack of importance of who he is as an individual and the sense of alienation, a pretty common phenomenon under Capitalism where workers feel psychologically and probably emotionally estranged from their work. Oh, the routine malaise!

[I fall back in love with him again each time i see the tear wiping part]

I don't think people have such profound insights or realisations if they haven't considered at length these broader philosophical questions regarding their priorities in life - but what I've always found pretty sexy was the simplicity of the scenario that gave Nanami this insight; an epiphany under ordinary, understated circumstances that he set his mind to without further equivocation. (And yes, I said it, it's sexy)

Who knows to what extent Nanami believed in his obsession about money for those four years; was his sole goal really just to retire young and migrate somewhere cheap? We know he still harboured dreams of moving to Malaysia; perhaps he could have afforded to by the time he was in his 30s, but there is also something within him that compels him to earn that retirement, not in an economic sense but rather in a way that addresses the question of what makes him feel like he'd deserved it. In short, how he earns a living in a way that aligns with and finances living a good life, does matter to Nanami. And by good we reference not just quality but morality too of course. The way things are done, the minutiae and attitude towards process matters very much to Nanami, not just the end goal.

I think that might be another way he differs a little from Higuruma, who could be a tad more impatient and results-oriented or focused, hence he'd be willing to take more risks (personal), bend rules and take advantage of loopholes - these tendencies all dovetail with his background navigating an already unfair legal system.

So, now that I've laid out the "lies" Nanami and Higuruma temporarily let themselves buy into, let's unpack what it indicates about their personalities. Gege often puts his (ill-fated?) idealists through their paces and what these pretences or obfuscations suggest about each man is fascinating and endearing to me in different ways!

The justification of his murder of two civilians is the central fib Higuruma tries to believe, but it's a delusion underpinned by disillusionment and years of constantly engaging with the incontrovertible ugliness and darkness of human nature encountered in his profession. That's how he spends his early adulthood.

Nanami, almost on the opposite end, doesn't want to acknowledge, let alone face such suffering and darkness for years - we might call it wilful or deliberate ignorance, or it may even have been a more subconscious choice. Either way, the avoidance stems from the tragedy of his personal history.

One man believes in his self-deception because he has faced the truth for too long, the other pursued a false priority because he has been attempting to avoid the agony and brutal realities of his calling.

When I think about the nature of their jobs, there also seems to be differences in the emotional and psychological tolls they're dealt. Being a sorceror has less overlap with social work and to my mind, is more similar with law enforcement with missions revolving around investigation, surveillance, nullification of threats and broadly, maintaining a status quo and security for civilians. Most curses are abstract entities birthed from an amorphous mass of negative energy, there is an erasure of sentience, or at least a greatly reduced need to account for it, since they're already monsters meant to be eliminated in the most straightforward sense. A more sensitive take would be that these mutated souls must be put out of their misery. As for most curse users, fortunately or unfortunately, there's little opportunity, let alone necessity to understand their humanity (apart from Geto, more on him later.)

Compared to a criminal lawyer who has to deal with and get to know (probably not the nicest) individuals over several months, handling their suspicions and doubts, cultivating the trust and human relationships; that takes a lot! No wonder Higuruma gets worn out.

"I have never been and never will be frustrated by my own uselessness." -Nanami Kento

Our bodies have something called a Sympathetic Nervous System and biology predicates its sensitivities and capacities for emotional duress; this also influences how much of others' sorrows we can take on before we become fatigued. Every individual is born with a different endurance. Higuruma and Nanami likely have very high tolerances, but everyone has their limits.

This part is pretty speculative but I think how these two men empathise is different as well; Higuruma definitely uses intellectual empathy primarily, while Nanami experiences emotional empathy slightly more often. He has genuine care and concern for his colleagues, and relationships with them - they may not appear to be exceptionally close ones but they are important to him. Just remember what happened to ponytail guy after he injured Ijichi.

Higuruma on the other hand may not have had the opportunity to cultivate such personal connections with those he works with, either by circumstance, choice or a hybrid of the two. I think he cares about people in a more abstract sense, as representations of his duties, rather than actual individuals whose emotional interiority he must grasp. Perhaps it's out of necessity or instinct for self-preservation that he maintains this sort of distance. This isn't to say he's callous, just that the way he relates with those in his occupation is more analytical.

Where they are alike is that both probably know it's unsustainable to operate from a baseline of righteous fury or indignation in their jobs. Going off his occasional outbursts, Nanami does seem to have more of that undercurrent but I don't think he's suppressing his anger daily or at least, he has some way of coping with it long term so it doesn't reach a critical mass, whereas Higuruma, if he had any awareness of his encroaching cynicism, probably couldn't afford the time and headspace to process his emotions properly.

Corroding Cynicism, Corroborating Hope

Initially, I had a difficult time understanding a particular line in Higuruma's monologue in Ch166, the version I read translated it as:

"I thought I should value that very depravity, which other animals don't have!"

I realised this line has a resonance with another ardent idealist, Geto, who observes this hideousness in "monkeys" as a trait he abhors, unlike Higuruma who cherishes it and believes it's the thing that sets us apart from other beasts.

It was only after contrasting this pair of idealists' motivations that I could comprehend Higuruma's breakdown.

Unlike Geto, Higuruma's raison d'être (before he gets a taste for homicide) isn't in achieving grand ambitions, he's not trying to permanently overturn a system but would rather manoeuvre within one. It's not so much revolution as it is mitigation (via litigation, hah). He is determined and convinced he can do this despite the odds he's given.

The issue with this granular type of change of course is that it's just as likely to erode their agents, through "the accumulation of little despairs". Not so little in Higuruma's case of course, since even his hard won interventions are significant as they determine the fate of people's freedoms.

What initially confounded me about Higuruma's breaking point and his tirade about how "the darkness before your eyes is just darkness" is that it didn't seem to challenge or contradict the reality he knew about before he snapped, that people can be awful.

Weakness and ugliness will always exist in humans, but I don't think Higuruma anticipated or believed such weakness was embedded in the legal system to such an extent. He's finally made aware of it with Keita's case, and I think that's when he decides the system isn't simply flawed but fundamentally corrupt and that he can no longer make any further progress within it, that his struggle isn't worth it.

The inherent fallibility of humans remain a fact. However, there's a distinction between universal and personal truths; the former often informs the latter, but what really matters for how we act are those individual, internalised truths. Higuruma's most fundamental truth is:

He's someone who operates from his principles, regardless of results or odds - it's why he fights losing battles, it's why he goes up against Sukuna. But for a moment, he's blinded by disappointment and anger and forgets that this is his ultimate north star.

Nanami goes through a lot less to remember his conscience, and I partially attribute that to surviving something as terrible as he does at an early age. Closure might be a bit ambitious, but I'd like to believe how he handled and addressed the loss of Haibara was to honour him by returning to the jujutsu world and looking out for other young sorcerors in his own way, guiding those like Ino and Yuji.

The sense of accountability and empathy he indirectly instills in Yuji is something Higuruma picks up on later, and it gives him some semblance of hope that there are other people like Yuji trying to do the right thing, those worth protecting and supporting, and keeping his eyes open for.

Conclusions

One last thing I want to compare between Nanami and Higuruma is how they approached the talents they were born with. Nanami has his Ratio technique, and Higuruma is intellectually gifted though later we understand his true inherent genius lies in his jujutsu abilities.

In a way it's inevitable for our destinies to be shaped by our capabilities, but I think it's interesting that Nanami tried to deny this innate rare skill as a sorceror and find something else he could do. If he wanted to lead a fulfilling life helping others, say as an educator or firefighter or paramedic (swoon) I don't doubt he could have, but he chose the path not many people are cut out for, returning to it not because it was pre-determined or cause he'd excel in the area, but because he knew he could guarantee doing it well in the moral sense.

Higuruma strikes me as another individual who'd be impressively competent at almost anything he sets his mind to. But the thing he's best at, given the circumstances he discovered them in, are skills he's now obligated to use in service of jujutsu HQ's higher ups. Higuruma wouldn't go so far as to reject using his natural powers and skills as a sorceror because of the unpleasant association of their origins, but he might struggle with how best to use these new tools, instead of being used. There may be another period of apparent futility he'll have to contend with.

I don't think Higuruma's faith is restored in the justice system by the time the manga concludes, and he'll have a hell of a time navigating the jujutsu one too, however he's more suited to being a sorceror as it would let him strike a better balance between his own moral code and jujutsu society's law; something that he might even be able to shape in the wake of the Culling Games and a paradigm shift for Japan, now it's been forced to reckon with this whole other world.

(Gambatte, Higuruma!)

[genderqueerdykes]

I've probably spent too much time in online queer circles lately, but this has been bothering me for a while, and I wanted to get your take on it. The tma/tme dichotomy doesn't make any sense to me. I'm a perisex gender non-conforming post-transition trans man, but I actually like presenting feminine now, and if I were to be clean shaven and go outside in feminine clothing and/or makeup, I have no doubt people would think I'm a trans woman and treat me accordingly. I would be the subject of transmisogynistic treatment, which is the exact opposite of "transmisogyny exempt", the way people who use those terms seem to categorize me by virtue of being a trans man. It makes me hesitate to present how I want to, because I'd be ridiculed by both bigots and the trans community, both for being affected by transmisogyny and "not" being affected by it. I don't understand how those terms even came to exist and be taken seriously in the trans community, because it feels like terf talking points. I thought the community was better than this? What happened to solidarity, intersectionalism, and acceptance? I don't believe for a second that people who use tma/tme haven't considered feminine trans men, since that's one of the primary targets it's used to mock. Do you know what started all this and what we can do about it to bring the trans community back together again?

it just doesn't make sense because transmisogyny doesn't exist in a vacuum. it's weaponized against gay men, cis men, trans men, bi men, intersex people, nonbinary people, genderfluid people, genderqueer people, cis women, women in general... it affects a lot of people

as an intersex person who gets clocked as both a trans woman and trans man depending on the setting, transmisogyny really doesn't exist in a vacuum. as i increase the dose of my testosterone, more and more people assume i am a trans woman. it happens constantly no matter how i try to present. i am a trans woman. but that's not my only gender. this shit doesn't make any sense

the general public doesn't really know what a trans man is. shocker, i know. the online community is obsessed with trans men. meanwhile in real life, it's crickets. to the average queerphobe, trans women are what they picture in they head when they think of a trans person. they dont really know anything beyond that. some do, and they can be shittier than average. but in real life whenever someone does something transmisogynistic to you, they are almost always perceiving you as a trans woman no matter what your identity really is

also people are literally just using tme/tma to reinvent the afab/amab binary like. they're literally just asking you for what genitals you were born with. it's creepy and gross. that's all they care about it. "tme" to them means afab. "tma" to them means amab. don't fall for their trap. it's designed to figure out your agab and nothing more.

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes.All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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“I didn’t think he was actually serious about watching us train.”   

Toji glances next to him, brows furrowed. You’re holding onto his hand as you walk side-by-side, and every so often, you beam at him, giving him a front row view to your adorable little face. On the opposite side of you, however, also holding your hand, is Satoru. You’re in the middle of both of them, as happy as can be. It’d be nice if you could say the same for Satoru, but you’ve come to learn that he can be awfully grumpy whenever Toji is involved. He’s not used to having to share your affection.   

Satoru squeezes your hand and scowls. “I already told you before that I’m not letting you train [Name] unless I can see it happen with my own eyes. You’re not allowed to hurt her. That was the condition.”   

“Having to get permission from a child…” Toji shakes his head disappointedly. “I wonder how I’ve fallen so low.”   

“I heard that, asshole!”   

“Satoru, please be nice to Toji,” you say—much to Satoru’s immense frustration. You glance up at Toji yet again, and the moment you smile at him, he instinctively does the same. “He agreed to train me. For free . Isn’t that amazing? Especially since something tells me he really likes money.”   

“You’re right,” Toji chuckles. “I love money.”   

“Everyone loves money,” Satoru mutters. “You’re not special.”  

“[Name], I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”   

“That’s because I don’t .”   

You never thought you’d see the day where Satoru and Toji would bicker childishly back and forth. After all, the only other meeting they were supposed to have was many years from now, in a literal fight to the death. You know it’s too soon to get your hopes up, but already, the story has changed. And you intend to keep it that way.  

Eventually, you arrive at your designated training spot for the day. It’s a clearing in the middle of the woods. You’ve got plenty of space here, and if Toji really wanted to, he could easily knock a few trees down and make even more room.   

“I’m a little nervous,” you admit. “But also excited, because I really want to get stronger. I know it’s important to manage my expectations, though. I’ll never be anywhere near as strong as you, Toji. How did you get to be so strong, without any cursed energy?”   

You already know the answer to that question, of course, but you figure it’s about time he explains it himself so that you don’t have to keep pretending to be unaware.   

“Ah, right. I never told you. It’s a Heavenly Restriction,” Toji says. “That’s the trade-off. I lost all of my cursed energy in exchange for my body becoming stronger, and all of my senses being sharpened. Because of this, I can still see and interact with curses, despite not having any actual cursed energy. I need to use cursed tools in order to exorcize them, since curses can’t be killed without cursed energy, but it’s never been a problem.”   

Of course it hasn’t been. Look at you. You’re basically the Arnold Schwarzenegger of this universe.   

“Wow,” you marvel. “No wonder you’re so cool! I could tell right away that you were super strong. Why would your clan members be so rude to you? You don’t even need cursed energy when you’re already this powerful. I’ve never met any of them, but they sound stupid.”   

Toji cracks another smile. “ Very stupid. Like I said before, they’re a bunch of fools who can’t even tell the difference between a head and an ass.”   

“He’s talking about asses again,” Satoru grimaces. “[Name], does it really have to be this guy who trains you? I’m seriously worried he’s a pervert. I can already tell he’s going to be a bad influence.”   

“Toji is the best mentor I’ll ever have,” you state firmly, and you make sure to wrap your little arms around him, adamant.   

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. It’s okay. He’ll come around to Toji eventually. It’ll just take a while for him to get used to things. Also, Toji won’t be a bad influence for you, but rather, you plan on being a good influence for him. Maybe, depending on how things go, he won’t abandon Megumi this time around. Maybe he’ll actually try to be a good dad.  

You’ll be overjoyed if you can make that happen.   

Toji pats your head a few times. A bit roughly, but the sentiment is there. You may not realize it, but you’re already starting to grow on him quite a bit. He’s never met a kid like you before. Or anyone, really. Someone he has so much in common with, but in spite of the unfortunate circumstances you’ve been born into, you manage not to give in to your bitterness and hate, unlike him.   

And so, Toji will train you. He’ll teach you how to fight, how to use cursed tools properly, and how to hone your body in order to surpass your limits. But along the way, he may very well end up learning a thing or two from you as well.  

He will be your teacher, and you will be his.  

“Actually, I have something sort of similar to a Heavenly Restriction,” you say.  

Toji blinks, visibly surprised. “Oh. Really?”   

“Yeah. Well, technically, it’s a restriction I imposed upon myself. A Binding Vow. I decided to make one a while back to try and become stronger.”   

“What kind of vow is it?” Toji asks, and already, you can hear Satoru groaning as he buries his face in his hands. Even just the mention of your vow seems to bring him immense agony. Poor guy.   

“Like you, I can’t use cursed energy. Not because I don’t have any, but because the second I use it to hurt someone, I’ll die.”   

You beam, brighter than the sun itself, and of course, Toji can’t believe what he’s hearing.   

“Every time!” Satoru fumes. “Every time, you talk about the conditions of your vow with a smile on your face! What’s wrong with you? It’s not something to be taken lightly!”   

“I’m not taking it lightly. I just think it’s cool that Toji and I have so much in common. We were fated to meet!”   

“You barely have anything in common! He’s allowed to fight without the risk of constantly dying, unlike you! Stupid! Moron! Dumbass!”   

You glance over at Toji with a frown. “Do you see how he talks to me? I’m starting to think this is an abusive friendship.”  

“A Binding Vow where your life is on the line?” Toji blinks repeatedly. “Why would you do something like that? What… did you gain from it?”   

“Well, I’m really weak and I don’t have much cursed energy to begin with, and I still haven’t shown signs of manifesting a cursed technique of my own. So, in exchange for risking my life with this vow, I gained the ability to convert cursed energy into positive energy. So that I can heal people. Isn’t that awesome? I’m so smart.” You pause for a moment, then grin. “Do you have a knife on you? If you want, I can give you a demonstration—”   

“No knives!” Satoru cries out. He’s already traumatized enough from the last time it happened, and he certainly doesn’t need to see it again.   

Seriously. Poor guy.   

Toji didn’t think you could possibly surprise him any more, but time and time again, you outdo yourself. Like Satoru, he never knows what to expect. And Toji has always prided himself on his cool-headedness and ability to make rational decisions. He hates the world of jujutsu sorcerers, true enough, but even so, he’s kept his anger at bay all this time. If he really wanted to, he probably could have slaughtered the entire Zen’in Clan by now.   

“You’ve drastically increased the odds of you dying, in order to help other people?” Toji can’t help but marvel. “You really are selfless. What would possess you to put someone else’s needs above your own, when people have only ever treated you cruelly?”   

“I don’t really think of it that way,” you frown. “It’s not like people have to be nice to me in order for me to do the right thing. People can be strong in lots of different ways, but jujutsu sorcerers kill curses in order to save lives, right? So, that’s what I decided I wanted to do. It seemed like the most important thing. Using my strength to make the world a better place.”   

On this point, you and Toji differ. He’s nowhere near as kind or self-sacrificial as you are. Admittedly, he’s never even bothered to think about saving anyone’s life. All he ever wanted was to be acknowledged for being strong. But the Zen’in Clan immediately shunned him, because he was born without cursed energy.   

Still, it’s impressive. The fact that you don’t let yourself be discouraged, no matter how others treat you. No matter how often they dismiss you and treat you like dirt. If you’re able to stomach all of the abuse thrown your way and still have such selfless goals, then at the very least, mentally… you’re already stronger than he is.   

“You really are the strangest little girl I’ve ever met,” Toji chuckles fondly.  

“Thanks,” you grin, and once again, you wrap your arms around him and give him the biggest hug you can manage.   

Satoru rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, but whatever.”  

Toji lets you hug him for a while. He’s already gotten used to how affectionate you are, and he’s surprised that he doesn’t seem to mind it. But as easy as it would be just to stand around and chat, you’re here for a reason.  

You’re here to get stronger.  

“Now,” Toji says, lips pulled into a smirk, “shall we begin?” 

It was bound to happen eventually. Toji has been training you for a little while now, and it was only a matter of time until the Zen’in Clan found out.   

Needless to say, they’re not happy about it.   

They already don’t think highly of Toji to begin with. In their eyes, he’s a failure. Someone unfit to be a sorcerer. But now they know that he’s training you, another failure. At least, on paper. These elitist dickheads seriously only care about one thing, and it’s power. But only the kind of power that they deem acceptable. Which is ridiculous, because Toji could easily break all of their skulls if he really wanted to. They’re seriously playing with fire.   

Long story short, you’ve been summoned. By the Zen’in Clan. The Gojo Clan of course heard about this and essentially told them to fuck off and mind their own business, but then the Zen’in Clan was all like, “You’re telling us to fuck off? No, no—you don’t get to do that. We’re the ones who tell you to fuck off. Who do you think you are to boss us around? You’re all a bunch of dipshits. Don’t make us go Super Saiyan on your asses.”   

…okay, fine, that’s not exactly what they said. You’re paraphrasing. But the situation kept escalating, and it was getting really tense, so you decided the best thing to do would be to just get the meeting over and done with.   

Which brings you to the present.   

Toji scowls irritably. “You didn’t have to come. All this does is make these rotten assholes feel like they can order everyone around and get away with it.”  

The Zen’in Clan estate stands before you. It’s even bigger than the Gojo Clan estate. Which makes sense, because Satoru is essentially a one-man army. The Gojo Clan still has many skilled sorcerers among their ranks, but as a whole, the Zen’in Clan is most likely stronger.   

Not that it really matters, because Satoru could easily take on all of them at once, and win .   

“It’s okay. I don’t really mind,” you shrug. “They can be as grumpy as they want. You’re still going to train me no matter what, right?”   

“Of course. I refuse to ever bow to them.”   

Toji grits his teeth, visibly seething, and meanwhile, Satoru crosses his arms. He came with you, of course. He outright refused to let you go on your own. Even though you reassured him that Toji would be by your side, but still. As always, he’s overprotective to a fault. He probably fears the Zen’in Clan might mistreat you, the way your own clan did.   

“If they say something to get on my nerves, we’re leaving,” Satoru mutters.   

“You should,” Toji nods. “Everyone here is disgusting trash, dragged up from the deepest, murkiest recesses of hell —”   

“Alright, alright, let’s just go!” you exclaim, grabbing both of them by the hands and pulling them along.   

It’s strange, being in a place that you know so much about, and yet, it still feels so foreign. You already know that in the future, all of these people will be slaughtered. By Maki. You’re not quite sure what it’ll take to prevent that. Maybe if you’re able to keep Mai safe. But then again, this place is home to parents such as Maki’s father, who would go so far as to try and kill his own daughters, so you’re not even sure if you want to save them.   

You suppose you’ve got plenty of time to think about it. A lot will happen before then. You need to focus on saving everyone else first.   

You and Toji are both used to being looked down upon. You’re no stranger to cruel, scornful looks, and neither is he. Evidently, though, the Zen’in Clan members weren’t expecting Gojo Satoru to show up as well. Because he’s here, no one dares to so much as even frown at you. Some stop and stare for a few moments, having never laid eyes upon him before, some instinctively cast their heads down, and others opt to avoid looking at him altogether, out of jealousy, inferiority, and resentment.  

You have to admit, having Satoru here helps. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to try anything funny.   

You’re brought to one of the rooms and told to wait for the head of the clan to arrive. Snacks and tea have been laid out for you, and you happily gorge yourself, seemingly without a care in the world.   

Toji sighs. “You’re making yourself right at home, aren’t you?”   

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you reply, cheeks stuffed. “They put out these snacks for us, so it’s okay if I eat all of them, right? They won’t get mad?”   

“I doubt it, but it’d be funny if they did.”  

Ironically, you, the weakest of the bunch, are the least concerned out of everyone. Toji is in a shit mood because he hates everything and anything to do with the Zen’in Clan, and Satoru is stressed out because he’s constantly worrying about you, and meanwhile you’re just… chilling. Also, the snacks are pretty good. You might seriously finish them all at this rate.   

Time passes. It seems the clan leader is determined to make you wait as long as humanly possible. Honestly, you’re starting to wonder if he brought you here just to laugh at how he’s wasting your time. You feel like you’re being trolled.   

Eventually, though, the door to the room slides open.  

But it’s not at all who you were expecting to see.  

It’s a boy. He’s small, most likely around your age, and peering into the room inquisitively. His eyes widen when he takes note of Satoru, of course, but for some reason, he seems to be paying Toji the most attention of all.   

Ah.   

It takes a little while for you to realize who he is, because he’s still young and hasn’t yet dyed his hair in that distinct blond shade, and also, he’s missing his ear piercings. But you recognize those sharp, upturned brown eyes, and his childlike appearance becomes more and more familiar, the longer you think about it.   

This boy is none other than Zen’in Naoya.   

There he is. There’s the little misogynist.   

Naoya hesitates for a moment before stepping into the room. He’s alone, by the looks of it. The clan leader isn’t with him. You suppose he must have stopped by out of pure intrigue.   

Naoya eagerly slides the door closed, then bounds over to Satoru. “You’re him, right?” he asks, eyes all but sparkling. “You’re Gojo Satoru, aren’t you?”  

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, visibly disinterested.   

“Wow, cool! I never thought I’d actually get to meet you. I’m Naoya. My dad’s the leader of the clan, and he says that one day, I’ll take over as the new leader! Everyone tells me I’m a genius. I even manifested my cursed technique early.”   

Naoya puffs out his chest, looking proud as can be. He’s supposed to be a year younger than you, so he’s not even seven years old yet, but it seems like that ego of his is already going strong. Not that you’re surprised. That’s what happens when you spoil a kid and fill their head with arrogance and conceit. Kids are the product of their environment, after all.   

“That’s nice,” Satoru comments insincerely, and you almost feel bad for Naoya, because he grins widely, not realizing that it wasn’t a genuine compliment.   

Naoya then turns towards Toji, and his smile gets even brighter. “Toji, is it true? I heard that you’re training someone. He must be super strong, then. Since you agreed to help him. What’s he like? Wasn’t he supposed to come today? Or is he not coming until later?”   

“What do you mean?” Toji frowns. “She’s right here.”  

“ She ?”   

“Yes, she. As in, her. The girl sitting next to me. [Name].”   

Naoya slowly turns his head towards you, eyes gradually filling with horror. He can’t seem to believe what he’s hearing. Also, it probably doesn’t help that you’ve been stuffing your face with crackers this whole time.   

You hurry to swallow what’s in your mouth, then smile. “Hi, Naoya. I’m [Name]. It’s nice to meet you.”   

“What?” Naoya gapes. “Toji, this… is who you’re training? You’re training a girl ?”   

Oh boy. Here it comes.   

“... but girls are weak!”   

As expected, Naoya wastes no time in spewing his flawed ideology. He seems outright offended by you. In fact, up until now, you may as well have been invisible to him.   

“Especially this girl,” Naoya continues, pointing an accusing finger your way. “She barely has any cursed energy. I can tell. And she definitely doesn’t have a Heavenly Restriction like you do, Toji. Right? She’s a weakling. Why would you train a girl? It’s a waste of time. She doesn’t deserve it.”   

Toji narrows his eyes. “Is it really any business of yours who I decide to train?”   

Naoya takes a step back, faltering for a moment. You know that he looks up to Toji. Their relationship wasn’t really expanded upon much, but even though they’re cousins, they’re not very close. Naoya’s admiration for Toji is a one-way street. He might even be jealous of you because you get to train with his idol.   

“Why do you assume girls are weak?” you ask.  

“It’s not an assumption,” Naoya glares. “Girls are supposed to grow up and become wives, then give birth to powerful sorcerers. They’re not strong enough to fight. They should leave all of the serious stuff to men, and focus on cooking, taking care of children, and making their husbands happy.”   

“Hm. I see.”   

You stare at him long and hard, watching as he clenches his fists and grows more frustrated by the second.   

Then, you smile.   

“I think you’re kind of stupid.”   

Naoya blinks repeatedly. It actually looks like his brain short-circuits for a few moments. Once again, he can’t help but feel like his ears are deceiving him. He’s a genius. That’s what everyone always says.   

No one has ever, ever called him stupid.   

“Take that back!” Naoya childishly exclaims. “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? I’m not stupid! I’m a hundred percent smarter than you are! You’re just a dumb, weak little girl, and you must have tricked Toji into training you!”   

Satoru’s expression darkens. “Hey. You don’t get to say that to her. I’m the only one who’s allowed to call [Name] dumb.”   

Even though the strongest sorcerer in the world is addressing him, right now, Naoya is so focused on his hatred of you that he doesn’t even pay him any mind. You’re not invisible anymore. Suddenly, you’re the only person he can see.   

And it pisses him off.   

“I just think what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense,” you shrug. “How could all women be weak? I’m sure some are weak. But there are men who are weak, too. Anyone can be weak. Or strong. Nothing is set in stone. And if you put in enough effort, then it’s even possible for someone who used to be weak to become strong. That’s how I see it, at least.”   

Naoya grits his teeth. He’s so angry that he’s shaking. Clearly, his ego took a massive hit when you called him stupid. But if he’s going to say stupid things, then you feel compelled to point out just how stupid they are.   

“[Name] is easily smarter than you,” Satoru sighs. “She’s even smarter than me . She likes to act dumb, but she’s actually gifted. She’s only seven years old, but academically, she’s as smart as a high-schooler. Between the two of you, she’s the real genius.”   

“...what?”  

Naoya looks taken aback. Since Gojo Satoru said it, it must be true. Once again, his brain can’t compute. He’s supposed to believe that a girl is superior to him? No… even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. What matters is strength , and that’s something you don’t have.   

“S-So what if you’re good at school?” Naoya huffs. “Studying and getting good grades doesn’t mean anything. You’re still weak . We’re jujutsu sorcerers. Are you going to pull out a textbook while you’re fighting a curse and expect to win? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a girl, and you need to take back what you said about me being stupid, or else I’ll get really angry!”   

He proceeds to slam his little fists down onto the table, and in doing so, he accidentally breaks one of the small plates in half. You watch as he winces, and a cut appears on his hand. It’s a relatively shallow wound, but blood flows from it nevertheless.   

Naoya bites down on his lip, tears pricking his eyes. He’s clearly resisting the urge to cry. He’s probably been taught never to show weakness, or to complain. Still, he’s only a kid, and it must hurt. Plus, he’s probably pretty embarrassed right now. You’d feel bad for him if he started wailing in front of his beloved Toji.   

You offer a gentle smile, and without saying anything, you reach out and grab Naoya’s hand in yours. He flinches, and he’s probably just about to slap your hand away, but before he manages to, you take a deep breath and concentrate.   

It only takes a few seconds. One moment, Naoya is cradling his bleeding cut, and the next, you’re wiping his blood off with a napkin and revealing clear, unblemished skin.  

“There you go,” you beam. “All better now. You’re okay, right? It doesn’t hurt anymore?”   

“Huh…?”   

Naoya stares down at his hand in disbelief. He swears there was a cut there, just a second ago. But now, it’s… gone? And so is the pain. It’s already a thing of the past, and it leaves him wondering whether he just imagined the whole thing.   

…no, that can’t be. After all, the broken plate is still there. The broken plate he cut himself with just a few moments ago. Which can only mean that you healed him. You healed him? Seriously? Someone like you knows reverse cursed technique, which is something even the most elite sorcerers struggle to grasp?  

All of a sudden, it feels like the entire room is spinning. Naoya swears he’s seeing stars. Everything is so backwards. Nothing makes any sense. The fact that you know how to use positive energy, the fact that Toji is training you… just, none of it.   

And to make matters even worse, you’re still smiling.   

“Like I said,” you hum. “Anyone can be strong. You never know what to expect, so maybe you should try to give people a chance.”    

Naoya doesn’t respond. He can’t come up with what to say, and even if he tried to speak, he doubts the words would form.   

From this moment onward, he won’t be able to get you off his mind.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6

This picks up right after the previous part 5. Enjoy :)

“Come home with me, y/n.”

The question barely met your ears, whispered in a half-awake stupor. The pad of Khargaad’s thumb rubbed soft circles into your shoulder-blade.

“What do you mean? We’re already here-“

“I mean home, y/n. My homeland.”

You sat up, looking down at him through his long eyelashes. It was a ridiculous thought, to leave this place right now. To leave this place anytime.

“Khargaad,” you reached down to curl your finger around one of his chestnut ringlets, “I can’t just… take a vacation-“

“I didn’t say anything about coming back.”

He sounded more awake now. More sure. The silence hung stale between the two of you, the only disruption being the night sounds of the forest outside his tent. What could you possibly say? An unpleasant feeling began to well in the pit of your stomach, your face betrayed your feelings.

The chains which bound you to this place were wrought by the abandonment of your father. And this included your drive to protect your mother.

“You think I would just abandon her?” Your voice was harsh and accusatory. It jostled him into an upright position. It was the exact opposite. The feelings that burned inside of him for you were because of the exact opposite. Your passion, loyalty, and spirit lit a fire in his soul. It truly made him feel unwell that he had not made this clear to you.

“Do you know the courage I had to muster, that first day I leaned in through your shop window.”

You crossed your arms, “Don’t ignore my question-“

“You were so sharp with me… you were like nothing I ever expected. I was struck… literally and metaphorically.” He huffed a small chuckle and rubbed his temple, “And then that other day, you walked right up to me and those two idiots. Like you didn’t have a fear in the world. Like it was nothing.”

His cheeks were red, but he swiveled his body to face you straight on. “You walk with fists curled but mind open. You wouldn’t abandon someone you love.”

Khargaad’s eyes practically glimmered in their unbroken gaze at your features. Your own gaze softened, “So what do you mean then? Are you saying that… me and my mother leave with you?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward and nuzzled his face into the crook of your bare neck, “it’s been a few years now, came out here to hunt and make a lot of coin. It’s always felt like I’ve been waiting… or looking for something.” His ivory tusks nudged into your jaw as he peppered little kisses along your neck.

This was all so overwhelming. What really was keeping you here, if not your mother? Khargaad sensed your unease.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry to put this all on you at once.”

You sighed, lying back down into his plush pillows and furs, “I’m exhausted.” There was that familiar feeling of the world on your shoulders, teetering dangerously close to crashing down.

“Of Course.” He laid next to you, not pulling you close sensing you needed space. His instinct is correct, but you find yourself inching your open palm to him so that he can trace slow circles into the sensitive skin.

Here I am 4 WHOLE MONTHS later with an update🩶 Had a pretty major surgery between then and now, with work and school. Had to step away but I’m back :)

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786 @sadsilver @shellyyyyy0000 @thecreativeblueberry-blog @lovingbadguys

[d-criss-news]

“As an artist, there is no right way to do something” – Helen J Shen in conversation with her Broadway co-star Darren Criss

New York City’s Belasco Theatre first opened its doors in 1907 with a production of A Grand Army Man, going on to premiere productions of seminal plays such as Rocky Horror Picture Show and stage Tony-award-winning adaptations of Shakespeare classics. Now, it is the stage on which Helen J Shen will make her Broadway debut. Having risen through the ranks over the past few years on a series of off-Broadway productions, Shen is starring opposite Golden Globe and Emmy award winner Darren Criss in Will Aronson and Hue Park’s sci-fi, romantic musical Maybe Happy Ending. Set in late-21st century Korea, the story follows two life-like Helperbots each at the end of their warranty, whose chance encounter unravels a tale reshaping the traditional mould of relationships.

Darren Criss: Good morning! We started our first day in the theatre yesterday. How does it all feel? Helen J Shen: It was wild to be there because it’s a gorgeous theatre. It’s like a little jewellery box, it’s so ornate and intricate. I saw How To Dance in Ohio in the balcony at the Belasco Theatre, and I was thinking about how many shows specifically in the Belasco that I’ve been a fan of, not even having seen them, but just knowing the impact of them. Knowing that this will be a part of its legacy forever is wild.

DC: By ‘this’, you mean yourself, Helen J Shen. Your name is on the marquee in lights. HJS: Nobody told me about that before it happened. I just got a picture of it when it was up.

DC: Really?! You didn’t know that your name was going to be up on the marquee? HJS: No! It wasn’t something we had talked about or agreed upon, I feel like the production and the powers that be have been like, “This is an introduction moment for you.” They didn’t have to do that.

DC: It is. It’s a fitting gesture to have your name outside to let people know who is lighting up the theatre inside. While we’re talking about the Belasco and your love of going to Broadway shows, you grew up in Jersey so you weren’t too far from the city, did you grow up going to Broadway shows? Tell me about your experience in two ways, the actual going to Broadway and the consumption of Broadway culture, which are not necessarily the same thing. I didn’t grow up near New York, I wasn’t a ferry ride or subway ride away, I was across the country so for me, Broadway was what I would pick up in record shops. Cast albums would come out and that’s how I would familiarise myself with what was going on. You were much closer to it and you grew up with more resources on the internet. I want to hear how Broadway was part of your life as baby Shel? HJS: Baby Shel was introduced to the tenth anniversary concert of Les Misérables, I had the physical VHS.

DC: I had that same one! HJS: We wore that VHS to its strings, it was replayed so much. I came into the city more so to do piano stuff because I was competitive starting from six years old. I would go to Carnegie Hall and Steinway Hall.

DC: Wait, unpack that for me. When you say you were competitive, what does that entail? HJS: Classical music competitions.

DC: A literal piano duel. HJS: Correct.

DC: How would one be adjudicated? HJS: How accurate you were, or how close you could get to perfect, which is an interesting way for me to have been introduced to music.

DC: I have so many thoughts on that. HJS: As an artist, there is no right way to do something. So to have such a narrow idea of what successful musicianship is was kind of soul-crushing. Now, I love classical music, I love playing the piano but I had to rediscover that love because it was so intense.

DC: How old were you when you were doing this? HJS: The first time I competed on a national scale I was ten or eleven.

DC: Wow. What was your piece that you always got ‘perfect’? I have strong feelings about what that means but within the rules of the competitive piano world. HJS: Chopin Nocturne no. 2 in D flat major was a huge one for me. Concertos were huge, I did a Bach concerto, and a Chopin concerto – I just love Chopin so much. Romantic music is the genre for me.

DC: Agreed. HJS: No shade to the Baroque period. [laughs]

DC: I’m with you, I did a lot of Baroque stuff because the violin is the same. I didn’t compete but I played in a lot of Philharmonic and Baroque quartets and as a result, it’s a lot of cocktail hour music for dukes and duchesses, as opposed to the romance of Chopin and Tchaikovsky. It frustrates me to no end that you guys had to compete. HJS: I already knew my passion for it was in music in general and being on stage. Piano brought me to Italy a lot, I spent a lot of time going abroad at a young age. It was my first time being away from home, I was ten the first time I went to Italy by myself.

DC: By yourself?! HJS: The piano teachers were there and there were chaperones.

DC: Yeah but without parents, to me that’s kind of by yourself. When you’re ten that’s a big deal. HJS: I remember being like, “Mum, dad, stop being so on top of me! I’m trying to be cool around my new friends.” Then the first day I got there I got motion sickness from the plane, I didn’t want to watch the horror movie that everyone was watching so I stayed in my room and suddenly had a wave of, “Oh my god, I’m in another country for fifteen days without my parents!”

DC: Fifteen days?! At ten years old! That’s hard graft, dude. HJS: It’s an eternity when you’re ten. The SIM card wasn’t working, first panic attack – woo!

DC: Wow, you wear that like a champ. I can’t be casual about that, that’s pretty intense. On top of this, assuming you had to compete. HJS: Yeah. Also timing-wise in Italy, everything starts later, plus jet lag.

DC: I never really thought about soloist musicianship being a competition, but if you’re on this track and you’re studying classical, at what point does it pivot to being an actor? Or singing? I don’t know which one was the first gateway. HJS: I did theatre, my first community theatre was doing Gretl in The Sound of Music in a local production. It was never the thing that was the main focus, it was always the tangential thing if you have time. My parents heard about Paper Mill’s [Playhouse] educational programme and the thing about Chinese immigrant parents is, if you’re going to do anything, you’re going to do it to its fullest extent, you’re not going to half-arse it and you’re not going to quit even if it’s hard. That’s been engrained in me from an early age. Theatre brought me so much joy, it was undeniable that I was going to pursue it. It unlocked something else in me. I grew up sort of isolated, I’m an only child and I was like, “I don’t want to sit in a practice room by myself anymore, I want to do things with other people.”

DC: Were you doing this at the Paper Mill programme while you were competing in piano? Was there a clear turning point? HJS: In high school, the summer months were prime real estate for the things that I wanted to do instead of school, the fifteen days of that Italy programme directly conflicted with the July conservatory at Paper Mill so I had to be like, “This year I’m going to do this, next year I’m going to do Italy.” Then starting in mid-high school I was like, “I think that there is something that I love to do and there’s something I feel obligated to do.” I wanted to be with my Paper Mill fam. That was where I first sang Cornet Man from Funny Girl which ended up being my college audition song.

DC: Nice! Did you learn Cornet Man from that or were you a fan of Barbra [Streisand] or Funny Girl before? HJS: It was a deep cut.

DC: Funny Girl for teenagers is categorically a deep cut. That’s not something teenagers are listening to, call me completely out of touch. HJS: Barbra has always been ingrained in the canon for me. Growing up it was always like, here’s Audra [McDonald], Barbra and Lea [Salonga], these are the voices.

DC: Was there a point where you knew you could do this to a degree that was a little more serious than the other kids? I’m not trying to blow your shit up, I think we can both agree you have a very strong voice, that’s why we’re here. [laughs] But, if you’re playing a piano all the time you’re not sitting there singing, so when did you realise? HJS: I don’t know, but the role that is highlighted in my head is when I played Mushu in sixth grade in Mulan Jr.

DC: [laughs] Does Mushu get a song in the junior version? HJS: She does. It didn’t age well.

DC: Well, it gave you a gateway to singing, so regardless of its content it sounds like this was a moment. HJS: It was a moment where I was like, “Not only do I like it but it likes me a little bit.” My house was filled with music but it was always a secondary thing. Doing something scary like pursuing art as a career, I remember fighting so hard and being like, “My parents don’t understand, they want me to find something that has stability.” Then I was talking to my godmother about it who I’m very close with and she was like, “How risky and scary was it for them to come to America?” Not knowing the language, not having any financial stability, just on a hope and dream – building a community out of nothing, helping each other out. All of these things that I definitely took for granted and was like, “They don’t understand!” But to then reframe, they were so punk for coming here. [Darren applauds] I will never understand how scary that was, but also they did that with the hopes that I could pursue something I am passionate about. When I graduated from high school my dad made a speech about how he was very inspired by the risk I was taking, to have that transition of “I thought you had all the answers, I’m mad at you for not having all the answers,” and then to be like, “They’re learning from me?!” It’s wild.

DC: That’s how it works, in teaching you shall learn. I love the idea that them embarking on this wild west hope and a dream tale is parallel to your own. How old were your parents when they emigrated to the United States? HJS: They were in grad school so about my age.

DC: If we’re talking about parallels, I was also 24 when I made my Broadway debut. HJS: I know! We’ve been talking about it feeling like a homecoming of sorts for you, can you speak more about that?

DC: Well, it’s a relief they haven’t kicked me out yet. I’ll just say that. I tend to hang out at the party longer than I probably should so I’m always very conscious of the host being like, “Alright, this is it.” HJS: The host being the ghost of David Belasco.

DC: He’s definitely on the invite committee, for sure. I wouldn’t say it’s a homecoming, it’s just a continuous grateful lap around the arena. Sometimes I’m in the crowd, sometimes I’m on the field, but for most of my life I was outside dying to get in, they haven’t kicked me out yet and I’m just happy to be in any part of it. We both went to the University of Michigan and you told me a great story that I would love to share, we were talking about what show really knocked you on your ass? HJS: Impact-wise, the show you’re talking about is Passing Strange. I was deck electrician on practicum one of my freshman year, it was my first semester of college and there was nothing to do for this show because it was so hands-on by everybody in the cast. All I was tasked to do was to watch and be an audience member, Tiffany Rachelle Stewart was the director of this production and so many amazing alumni are in this production, it changed how I thought theatre could be. Passing Strange is sort of autobiographical of Stew’s [author, Passing Strange] life, him and his writing partner Heidi Rodewald wrote it for The Public Theatre and then it happened on Broadway at The Belasco. Seeing the Michigan production made me realise my peers were part of this intricate storytelling and were so hands-on in creating, there were things that were divisive and I didn’t know theatre could do that. It inspires me as a hopeful writer and performer in general that we can experience and understand life through these other mediums and make it artful and beautiful. I saw it twenty times and sobbed every time.

DC: You’re speaking to something that really hit me when I was also at Michigan, when you’re in those amazing sponge years of eighteen to 22. I’ll be frank, the musical theatre department at The University of Michigan is a very prestigious, well-known and really incredible programme – I was not a part of this programme. [both laugh] The reason why I’m saying this is because I was completely blown away by the musical theatre kids – it was the first time meeting kids my age doing things that pros do. As we approach your Broadway debut, is there anything from the vision board or the dream catalogue where you’re like, “When I get to Broadway, I’ve always wanted to…” HJS: This already being the Broadway debut is such a glorious victory. I would like to sit on the stage and soak it all in. [laughs]

DC: Empty theatres to me are churches, they’re these very sacred holy places. HJS: We have ghosts in ours!

DC: We do have ghosts. The Belasco is famously one of the most storied theatres on Broadway. There is a holiness to the literal or figurative ‘ghosts’ of the theatre, this is a place where people go to be moved and to feel some kind of catharsis, not unlike the many holy houses of any house of worship around the world throughout time. Being in a theatre alone is a really sacred experience, I hope you find a second amongst all the craziness to do that. Are there any heroes that you grew up idolising? Because I guarantee you whether you like it or not, in a few months’ time there are going to be kids watching this that will forever hold the name Helen J Shen sacred because of this cast album. Not to say the pressure is on but it’s more of a polite reminder that the wheel does spin around. HJS: It was Lea [Salonga] in that 10th- anniversary concert.

DC: Yeah dude, me too honestly. HJS: For her to have done Miss Saigon at the age that she did is just so wild, it’s amazing. I have since been fortunate enough to meet and work with amazing people who have also been doing incredible work, for way longer than I’ve been alive.

DC: Well, that is how I feel about getting to work with you and you’ve only just begun… [Darren sings] And… we’ve only just begun our day because we’ve got to go to tech. HJS: We’ve got to go to tech!