#this is incomprehensible but i hope you get the feelings i am feeling because

[arminsumi]

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

2k

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[revelboo]

ayo, would you be able & willing to update either Rodimus or Tarn ? Am loving both of those rn!

Sure- I’ll try to get both updated today if I have time

L.G. Fuad Pt 5

Tarn x Reader

• It’s ludicrous really. Irrational. Weak. Staring up at the ceiling of his habsuite, he’s aware of the way you’re sprawled on his chassis, half out of your tangle of blankets, face against him. Almost positive you’re drooling on him. What would Megatron think? At least one of you is recharging, because he’s been kept alert by your thrashing and twisting. Your skin sometimes hot to the touch and slick with sweat, other times clammy and so cold. At some point, you’d stopped struggling. A little hand outstretched and your fingers against the mesh of his neck as you finally rest. But you survived the night. There were times he wasn’t sure what the outcome would be. Hating that he’d been almost concerned.

• Shifting as something gloriously warm slides against your spine from the back of your neck to the curve of your butt, you open your eyes but don’t move. Still too weak and just wanting to sleep. But realizing you’re sprawled on top of your guy with the lovely voice? That he’s absently petting you? You should be embarrassed, but you’re just too exhausted. Rumbling his alien gibberish at you, he touches your jaw with surprising gentleness.

• “You’re alive, then,” he mutters, cupping a hand against you and sitting up. Hearing your noise as you slide down to sprawl against his fingers, your expression uncannily Cybertronian and very obviously unhappy. “If you’re going to tag along, you’re going to learn to listen.” Tone strict, he twists and deposits you on his berth. Tugging your blanket away as you momentarily resist him. “Let’s see how clever you are,” he says as you just flop down, glaring.

• Shivering as he talks at you, attention on your blanket, it takes a moment to realize he’s repeating the same sounds. Eyes narrowing you watch him shake your blanket and say something. And he does it again. Is he trying to teach you? Not that you can hope to repeat those clicking, rumbling whirs of noise. “Blanket. That’s a blanket. I’m cold and it’s mine,” you retort knowing he can’t understand you as you point. And he hesitates. Makes his sound and shakes it again. “Blanket,” you say, refusing to attempt his alien gibberish. You’re too tired for this crap and your head is pounding.

• Optics narrowing as you point and chatter, he’s almost certain you’re saying the same thing in two different languages. Slowly enunciating he says the word in Cybertronian. Then tries to repeat your sound. “Blaaynk-it?” And your little eyes widen as you lunge to your feet only to wobble and fall back down with a grimace. Repeating the word and pointing with both hands. When he gives you the Cybertronian you just scrunch your nose at him. But finally make an attempt. A terrible, incomprehensible attempt. But still. “Good. Very good,” he says reaching to pat you on the head as you swat weakly at him and point more insistently. Ah. Draping the blanket around you, he watches you cocoon yourself. You require positive reinforcement to learn. Some kind of reward.

Previous

Next

But I can still pretend with my memories and photographs,

I have learned to love the lie.

I wanna know what it's like to be awkward and innocent, not belligerent.

I wanna know how it feels to be useful and pertinent and have common sense.. yeah

Let me in, let me in to the club, cuz I wanna belong,

And I need to get strong, and if memory serves,

I'm addicted to words and they're useless.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the lakes - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated! warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly word count: 3.0k summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does. pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader now playing: the lakes - taylor swift "take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."

“Are you deaf?”

“What?”

You’re eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. There’s about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. You’re sitting next to your sister, but you can’t hear her well.

You know she’s speaking, and you’re sure you’re yelling, but you’re frustrated.

“I said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!”

You feel your face flush.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. You’re mumbling, and it’s loud in here.”

Your sister looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I’m right next to you, and I’m not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.”

You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyone’s gaze.

Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.

She doesn’t even have to. You’ve booked one by the time she says it to you.

At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.

At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctor’s note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.

Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that you’ll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.

You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.

You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldn’t be able to process all of what’s going on due to the many voices.

You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.

You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.

With your hearing aids, life isn’t so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when you’re mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.

And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.

...

If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.

You’ve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.

You wonder if he’ll ever know how desperately you want him.

You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.

Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggy’s fiancé, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.

You don’t tell Matt, though, not at first.

You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But you’re embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though you’re in your twenties.

But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you don’t even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. You’re reading, your hearing aids out, and he’s unsure why you can’t hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, it’s like you don’t even realize he’s there.

He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows you’re doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes you’re signing, probably because you think Daredevil isn’t blind.

He takes off his helmet.

“Matt?” You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you can’t hear yourself to gage how loud you’re being.

He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“I can’t hear you.” You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.

You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When you’re done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.

When he wakes up that morning, you’re asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.

He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.

“Hey.. You.. You’re Daredevil...”

“You’re deaf.”

“Hard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just… My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids I’m close to deaf, yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Daredevil?”

“I was scared. Scared that… That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldn’t like me as much.”

“I was scared too..”

“When did you start losing your hearing?”

“In college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..” You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.

“Thanks for stitching me up.” He says softly.

“No problem.”

“The hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when you’re around.”

“You can hear my hearing aids?”

“Apparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.”

Your face flushes.

“I can turn them off if it’s bothering you.”

“How would you hear me, then?” He has a point.

“I just don’t want them to bother you.”

“Don’t offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.”

You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. You’re gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.

You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that you’ll kiss him more passionately when he isn’t freshly stitched up.

• • •

A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.

But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and it’s perfectly fine because most of the time, you aren’t struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he can’t see when you can’t hear him.

Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that you’re there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but it’s not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.

Except for this one day.

You slept over at Matt’s on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but you’ve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that you’re tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.

You sneak out of Matt’s apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. But he didn’t respond to your message. You decide that you don’t care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.

When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.

“Foggy—” He’s not stopping. It sounds like he’s mumbling, and there’s this ringing in your ears. “Foggy, I can’t hear you.” He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. “My hearing aids died.” You tell him. You’re frustrated, and Matt isn’t in the office yet.

You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen what’s going on and as you’re settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope it’s from Matt, but when you see Karen’s name, you falter slightly.

‘Hey! Foggy told me what was going on. We’ll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.’

‘Thanks’, You respond, “Sorry about all this. I’m usually on top of my battery life.”

“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

“Still, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?”

“No, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.”

You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, you’ll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.

So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but there’s a light ringing in your ears that’s getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. You’re so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.

You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.

You don’t hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where you’re almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.

You must not have them in.

So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.

Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.

After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like he’s mumbling, but you can hear him.

“Forgot your hearing aids?”

“Batteries died.” You tell him. “You never answered me.”

“My phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?”

“Mhm..” You smile softly, “You’re gonna have to help answer calls, though.”

He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says, a soft smile on his face.

The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.

“Matt’s staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, you’ll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. You’re thankful, too, because you’re about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.

You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Matt’s office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.

“I’ll just be a few more minutes, Bee.” Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.

That doesn’t usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.

God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.

“Okay…”

You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.

“What’s wrong?” He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and you’re foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you could’ve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.

You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.

“Loud… Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I don’t use my hearing aids for a while..” You say softly. “It’s just.. it really hurts...” You confess, tears slipping down your face.

“Sweetheart..” He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. “C’mere..” You can’t hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.

You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.

His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know he’s there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.

“”m sorry..” you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.

L-O-V-E.

S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T

He traces your name, his, and your last names.

You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. He’ll understand. He loves you, and it’s enough to be confident in your future again.

You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.

You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.

Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you can’t hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.

You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. It’s enough just knowing he’s there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for ‘I love you’ in ASL.

For Matt Murdock, who, when you’re taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know he’s real.

For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.

For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.

[dc418writes]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ari + pinned down + “Fuck, sweetheart, I love it when you whine so pretty for me.”

*incomprehensible screeching* ok ok calm down self no pressure 👀 lol but thank you Siri for this prompt! And all who read I hope you like what I came up with☺️!

Mine

✨Pairing✨: ex!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: As luck would have it, your ex is there to save you from a creep. Some coincidence right?

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, soft/dark-dark elements, mention of sexual harassment, violence (man-man), unprotected adult happy funny times (please be safe everyone!), fingering, breeding kink, mention of alcohol, a couple bad language words

Your once pleasant buzz has since been replaced by a dull headache as you sit in the middle of your ex’s king sized bed. One of his shirts - smelling a mix of his cologne and detergent - covering your freshly washed body after the small bar brawl left the front of your top and skirt soaked with beer.

Every few minutes your mind wanders back to that moment where the “kind” and charming stranger showed his true colors. His touches becoming unwanted while trapping you against the bar and ignoring your protests. If it wasn’t for Ari, quickly yanking the hazel-eyed man away from you before his fist was soon meeting his cheek, you’re sure you’d be stuck somewhere and missing for God knows how long.

Maybe even worse.

A light knock on the door has a small smile curling on your lips seeing Ari in the doorway. His muscular body nearly taking up the entire space standing in his black sweats and some worn looking band tee.

“Hey, you feel alright?,” he asks and you nod. “Need anything?”

“No, just tired.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

You didn’t want him out there though. In your current state - emotionally vulnerable and unable to get the events out of your mind - you wanted him next to you. To not be alone for tonight at least.

“C-Can you stay? Please?,” you call after him halting any further movement out of the doorway. With that tilted smile you still loved, he was soon removing his shirt and joining you under his sheets.

“Of course sweetheart.”

His thick arm wrapped around your middle with your back against his front, it was like old times how instantly safe and comfortable you felt. How you fit together so well, it was as if you’d never even broken up in the first place. And when his nose bumps behind your ear barely touching one of your special spots, that familiar flip returns to your stomach as well.

“Goodnight.”

“Night Ari,” you whisper, but you already know sleep is a far off concept from your highly active brain still focused on the bar. Trying to force you into reliving every detail as if helping you study for your own exam.

So many minutes pass of just feeling the air from Ari’s nostrils against your neck and hearing cars run by that you’ve accepted you probably won’t be sleeping tonight.

“That pretty head’s going a mile a minute again huh?,” he asks slightly startling you thinking he was asleep this whole time.

“You can tell?” He nods and you can feel the gentle scratching of his beard on your skin.

“Your pulse is a bit high; not to mention your body’s tense. Not as relaxed as I know you wanna be.”

He was always so intuitive with you. Knowing how you were feeling or if you were off without you having to even say a word. It was honestly scary sometimes how he was there with what you needed before it could cross your own mind.

“Why am I not surprised? Spot on as always,” you softly chuckle.

“Because I know you sweetheart,” he replies placing a chaste kiss to that sweet spot behind your ear. “Know all about this body. What goes on in your mind.”

His voice in your ear as his hand slowly drifts from under you and down your abdomen to the front of your thigh has you beginning to squirm. An ache quickly forming between your legs you want him to erase.

His fingertips trace a slow circle just centimeters from that junction as his lips create their own steady path down the column of your neck to your shoulder. It’s a tortuous buildup you wish he didn’t enjoy so much.

“Let’s get you to sleep, yea?”

“Please,” you shamefully beg anticipating his touch where you needed most.

And he doesn’t disappoint placing your leg over his so you were spread wide for him. His middle finger immediately dipping in your needy core and dragging just right you couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Still so tight after all this time. We can work around that though can’t we?”

By the time he was done - having readied you with two orgasms - you were already in a mindless haze only capable of babbling incoherent noises, “please”, and Ari’s name.

Exactly how he wanted you as he pushed your thighs up against your chest keeping them in place with his wide upper half while his hands pinned yours over your head. You were now completely at his use as he slowly began to push into you with a low groan and silent curses how you gripped him so tight.

“Ari please,” you whined. Head lulling to the side to lie on your arm. “Need you.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I love when you whine so pretty for me,” he finishes with a gasp finally pushing to the hilt. For your sake, he tries to start slow, but the feel of you clinching around him and all the sweet noises you’re making, it doesn’t take long for that rhythm to quicken. The squeaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping soon taking over your moans and panting.

“Mm don���t stop!”

He moans nipping at your bottom lip. “I’m the only one that can take care of you. Knows all your spots that make you dumb. Isn’t that right?”

Ari takes your whine as a yes, smirking as his mouth finds yours in a heated and numbing kiss.

“Because you’re mine sweetheart.” His pace quickens and you shriek as your release squirts to the sheets below. It only spurs him more moaning as he feels his own release approaching. “Always have been, shit, always will be.”

You want to whine and push him away with your new sensitivity and puffy folds that feel raw, but that blissed out cloud just keeps lifting you higher and higher that you don’t want to come down.

“And everyone’s gonna know it too seeing you with our little baby bump. Gonna be the best mama to our babies.” The thought of you carrying a mini version of the both of you pushes him over the edge moaning his release as you have one last one of your own feeling him fill you up with deep ruts wanting it to stick as deep as it could go.

Finally meeting that blissful high with you, a tired chuckle leaves his lips as he kisses all along your sweaty face. You’re pleasantly knocked out - mouth slightly parted - as he carefully lifts up so your legs can be stretched out again. Although soft, he doesn’t pull out; instead staying buried deep so none of him can escape.

Plus having you wrapped around him so snug, occasionally pulsing and clinching, it’s better than any blanket he could ever buy.

“Now, if only you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to go through all this,” he whispers before leaving one last peck on your temple.

HiredHelp: I said only one punch! (sent 12:29 am)

HiredHelp: That’s an extra 2K (sent 12:30 am)

HiredHelp: 5K in my account by tomorrow or we meet again very soon (sent 12:30 am)

So for those who’ve read my works over the years, this is definitely a bit of new territory for me (soft/dark-dark and smut) so hopefully it’s not cringe🫣. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 for this prompt and for allowing me to play☺️! Also sorry if this is longer than a standard drabble lol

[solspina]

An Angelic Ambassador

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

( for @yagodnyizefir ♡ )

a gift for this community's beloved zefir, who gifted me one of the most gorgeous pieces I've ever received. it felt absolutely impossible to not give something in return! your art is amazing, and so are you! I am begging you to never leave this community, you absolute gem.

one of the greatest imperial ambassadors of their era is assigned to sanguinius for a difficult negotiation with a non-compliant planet. eager to please the golden primarch and not embarrass themselves, the ambassador shoves down a rather concerning physical affliction, and must suffer the lack of consequences that follows shortly after.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: probably horribly proofread, mentions of blood and illness, fainting, mentions of anxiety and lots of comfort.

To say that she felt fine would be a total and complete lie - unless “fine” could be considered incomprehensible dizziness and nausea - but one that she had managed to uphold through the entirety of the day.

It was almost over. One more meeting and she could return to her small, foul smelling dormitory room upon the red tear. Not that she complained, of course, the primarch had already apologized profusely for the lack of a better sleeping arrangement. She was renowned as one of the imperium’s most influential diplomats, assigned temporarily to the blood angels in hopes that she could help them negotiate an alliance with a stubborn planet that refused to associate itself with “a pack of bloodthirsty animals.” Complaints about the place the primarch had arraigned for her rest were not part of her contract, especially considering others had proposed the floor as an alternative to the mildewed chairs they had offered.

And so, she strode through the halls of the non-compliant planet’s palace. The clicking of her rather uncomfortable heels making a loud enough noise against the elaborate marble floors accompanied by the much harsher clunk of metal that followed her, the primarch in his ceremonial armor with a rather concerned expression across his face.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You seem troubled.” he inquired, placing a hand upon her shoulder as to stop her from walking forward. “Our meeting does not begin for another hour; we can sit down for a moment if you need.”

“I appreciate your concern, my lord, but I am fine.”

That was a lie. He could tell and so could absolutely any prying ears that happened to hear that small excerpt of their conversation. Bags had formed under her eyes, and she shivered despite the angel himself feeling that the air temperature was rather warm.

She felt exhausted, in truth, and fully aware that she had fallen ill. She must have contracted something on one of her recent negotiation trips before accepting her contract with Sanguinius, and now she seemed a liar or a fool in front of the great angel.

Getting through this dreaded meeting was all she could do. It was all that he had asked of her. Such a minuscule task, and one that she began to feel she could not complete. Just make it through, she had to. How embarrassing would it be for the great angel to bring an ambassador, just to have her not show because she felt a little sick? How embarrassing would it be for her to be unable to engage in simple negotiations after one of the supposedly kindest and most benevolent primarchs had heard so highly of her? She could not humiliate him or create a bad impression on her first official conference at his side.

When the two of them made their entrance into the massive conference hall, conversation began amongst planetary leaders almost immediately. Many gawked at the great angel, and others whispered as their eyes bore into the back of his sweet little ambassador’s skull. Though not the cause, for it was impossible, their stares seemed to amplify the pounding in her head. The lights were far too bright for her sensitive eyes, and the whispers that fell from their lips seemed to travel into the very core of her brain.

Sanguinius simply smiled his absolutely stunning saccharine smile as he walked alongside her to his seat at the head of the table, opposite from what seemed to be the planet’s figurehead. He paid no attention to the girl at his side anymore, eyes instead fixated on those he would be watching her negotiate with, and part of her felt relieved he wasn’t looking to see her lightly limp or stumble behind him.

She pulled out the angel’s chair for him, and her face contorted into a brief and unnoticeable wince at the grating noise of its legs against the floor before she stood a distance next to him with her hands held politely over her stomach. Chairs were not reserved for the diplomats and ambassadors attending this meeting, and she stood alone at the side of the brightest one whilst a seated crowd of dark and brooding men looked at her expectantly.

“If you would be so kind, serf. Bring me the documentation of your master’s conditions.” The man at the opposite end of the table said as he narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue over his lips. She grabbed the documents and held them close to her body with trembling hands and freezing fingertips as she made her way across the table, suddenly much more aware of how revealing her outfit was on her upper half.

Anxiety had not paired well with exhaustion, as nausea now accompanied the cold sweat that clung to her skin and the paranoia she felt as an endless row of hungry men stared and salivated over her small and shaking body.

“She is one of the imperium’s greatest ambassadors, to call this one a serf of mine is to insult her.” A golden voice rung out from several yards behind her, one that was very obviously filled with a false and diplomatic smile. “She has earned her reputation.”

The main figurehead’s now irritated eyes were peeled off of her and onto the angel after his series of praises had struck his ears.

Normally, in any other case, she would give a smile with pride-filled eyes at a primarch’s praise, but on this particular day it was all she could do to inhale and exhale through her slightly parted lips as she attempted to ignore the swiftly blackening edges of her vision.

“You’re sure she has, lord Sanguinius?” One of the planetary leaders spoke, a slight laugh in his voice. “She looks like she’s going to collapse.”

As if he had willed it, she lost feeling in her hands and feet. She stumbled over her own legs and walked completely blind, her vision completely consumed by darkness and floating glares of light. She wasn’t completely sure when she had lost her footing, as her memory was swallowed entirely by the sharp pain of her head hitting the floor, and the sound of paper flying across the room.

-

The pounding in her head hadn’t stopped for hours, and that had become apparent when she opened her eyes again. Instead of in the floor of a gloomy non-compliant world's palace, she lay sprawled out in the center of an obnoxiously large bed made up near entirely of expensive but thin, scarlet-colored sheets and a mattress that could only have been made by the finest of imperial craftsmen. Warmth had surrounded her, trapping itself under the bedcovers and enveloping her in one of the priciest hugs she’d ever experienced.

The moment she’d gained enough strength to open her eyes completely, she assessed the blood angel's regalia scattered across the walls of the rather opulent room she had been moved to. Ruby blood drops had been meticulously placed upon nearly every surface of the room, and wings of the finest gold had been intricately inscribed into their sides. More crimson silks than the ones on the bed hung from the ceiling and cascaded down into the walls like waterfalls of blood that soaked the room in a suffocating sense of grandeur, all of this barely visible through the evidently dimmed lights and several scentless candles that surrounded the room and flickered their lights in anticipation of her realization.

Her suspicion turned into shock, and her shock turned into fear. She had not been taken back to her pungent smelling and recycled dormitory, she had been taken directly to the primarch’s quarters and laid in the center of his bed. The shadows of several elaborate blood angels relics danced upon the walls and her heart pounded in her chest like a series of bolter shots. She was a great ambassador and an incredible negotiator, sure, but even she had never seen anything compared to the magnificence of a primarch's resting area, and she had especially not been invited within one.

She had become so enamored in her fear that she didn’t notice the very object of her fear enter the room.

Sanguinius took incredibly quick notice of her state of panic, and made haste as closed the distance between himself and the trembling ambassador under his sheets. His presence had shifted from grand in the halls of a heretical palace to overwhelming in an area specifically designed for his comfort.

“I’m sorry m-my lord... I didn’t mean to disappoint you…” she began to weep as Sanguinius settled down onto the mattress next to her. Her voice trembled when she spoke, her head bowed as she refused to make eye contact with the angel lest he see the tears streaming down her cheeks or her knuckles whitening as she gripped his bedsheets in an attempt to contain the full-on sobs that threatened to spill from her lips and into a stream of incoherent apologies.

Sanguinius had sat now unarmored and clean from whatever he had done to those poor non-compliants she had failed to negotiate with. His hair was no longer tied into the intricate halo of braids that once circled his head, instead it fell around his face in soft waves, betraying any noble or fearsome gaze he may have held against her.

“Do not cry," the angel murmured just barely above a whisper as his warm and steady hand reached to cup her cheek, his thumb perfectly positioned to wipe away any stray tears that threatened to stain his silken sheets. "Why did you tell me that you were okay when you were not? Our meeting could have been postponed." He continued, using his free hand to brush a strand of her hair from her face and tuck it gently behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, my lord... sorry," She repeated as if another apology were going to save her from the nonexistent wrath of the golden primarch in front of her. "I just wanted to make you proud... you've been... so kind."

Sanguinius' expression softened even more than it already had been as he stroked her cheek with his thumb before finally removing his palm from her face and crawling under the blankets next to her. He pulled her into his side with one of his arms, wrapping both an arm and a wing around her shoulder in hopes of providing comfort to the crying ambassador, still trembling even underneath his warmth.

"What of my contract? I have failed you."

“We will cross that bridge when we arrive to it, your contract has been extended for the time being” Sanguinius replied with the slightest of smiles.

“Extended? But…” She stammered. To say she was confused would be a horrible understatement. She had failed, possibly ruined the future of an entire imperial planet while under the watchful eye of one of the most highly revered of the primarchs, and he had chosen to extend her contract?

“You fell ill under my care. I wish to see to it that you are well and that you do not choose to let one minor setback define you.”

Her mind and heart both raced so fast they seemed to be in sync as she struggled to comprehend such undeserved kindness. She had expected to be reprimanded, perhaps even punished for not only failing to negotiate but lying to a primarch alongside it, regardless of whether or not she believed her lie was for the greater imperial well-being.

The great angel gently laughed at her state of confusion. His simple kindness, save for the fact plenty of bloodshed had occurred at his hands today, had completely paralyzed the poor ambassador. She did not need to know what happened immediately after her head hit the floor, or why the primarch had been so eager to get her out of the room and into a safer place to rest.

She did not need to know that she was simply a buffer so that no bloodshed had to occur before her rather innocent eyes. Alas, Sanguinius had prepared for a much more gory outcome in case things went wrong, so it had not been much of an issue when they did. Peace was fragile, especially on such a planet. Protecting it was his second priority; he reminded himself in that moment. The ambassador was his first.

As he lay down and turn away from her, it took only a few moments of being lost in his own thoughts to feel her wedge her head in the exposed area of his back between his wings. She pressed her chest to his back, pulling her legs as close to his body as possible for a baseline. The bend of her knees sat at his mid thighs, as she was too small for her legs to mold into the shape of his.

"Thank you," She whispered, her breath warm against his back as her sniffles began to die out. "For everything."

The primarch extended one of his wings out behind him and allowed it to drape over her like a weighted blanket. She nestled closer to him as his soft feathers enveloped her, so much so that he could feel the tiniest of heartbeats hammering against his back, and he swore she would melt into his skin if she could crawl any closer.

"Always." He whispered so quietly her baseline ears could not hear. He closed his eyes, all too aware of the warmth against him, and just slightly thankful she hadn't questioned exactly how long her contract had been extended.

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[hyenabeanz]

At the risk of having the fire of a thousand angry hockey nerds upon me, I'm going to share the deep dive I did today. I'm going to preface this with this is driven by me being curious about rule and game mechanics, and wondering why reffing sometimes does what it do, especially when incomprehensible on first glance to me. (Translation: this is a hyperfocus neurospicy dive, not a "my blorbo did nothing wrong." My blorbo did do wrong.)

I was pissed at The Hit. It looked really bad. And then I also was wondering WTF the refs were on.

So I found a gif and broke it down into individual frames.

And: I think they were right. Müller's stick is what hit her head, and Flaherty herself didn't, and it was weird flukey shit that made it happen as bad as it did.

PAUSE. I ask you please not come at me without at least reading the whole post. And it's long.

First: I really hope Muller is not too badly hurt, and I am worried, and it was/is upsetting she got clocked so hard. I shit talk Boston because historical MN Boston woho rivalry, but omg I don't want to see anyone hurt. Ever. Especially head injuries. I've had multiple concussions, it makes me ill to watch.

Second: The hit Flaherty delivered was illegal. Period. Yes. Their bodies were not going the same direction. That is against the clarified body rules, and is normally a two minute minor. A penalty was absolutely warranted.

But. Frames and further dissection below the cut. Be mindful they're just as ugly and scary to look at in still frame as in action if not more so. That was your content warning, and please regulate yourself accordingly; I'm not accepting abuse here.

so, chronological key frames from the impact. Hopefully Tumblr don't fuck these up

Looking at the frames, Flaherty never touches Müller's head. She kicks her elbow up to deflect Müller's stick, which is headed straight for her throat because Müller is holding it high, but drops her elbow right before contact. The result is still ugly as it hits in the collarbone region which is so not a nice place to get hit, but it is not a major penalty the way a check to the head is.

The high stick catches on Flaherty, and Flaherty's directional momentum whips it up into Müller's head. Müller's head doesn't move until Flaherty is past her.

The collision is still on Flaherty because she initiated the illegal contact which started the whole thing. But the call was an illegal check to the head, which is a specific thing. And that rule reads:

Rule 48 – Illegal Check to the Head will automatically initiate a further review with the PWHL Central Situation Room, by which referees may confirm their original call, reduce the penalty to a minor if the hit was accidental, or rescind it entirely if the review determines the head was not the main point of contact.

In this case it was pretty clearly accidental since I don't think Flaherty was out there doing the physics of how to get the stick to whip. Her head wasn't the main point of contact *at all.* So them going in between the two extremes of the rule feels appropriate imo since the fallout was so bad even though the head wasn't a point of contact between players.

(As an aside, I was curious if they could change the penalty to "illegal body checking" and assess it as a major, because I could be sold on that being potentially could be appropriate, that it was a bad body check that resulted in injury, but if I'm understanding rule 20.6 correctly, the answer seems to be no:

"The Referee shall have the following options following such review: (i) confirming their original Match Penalty call; or (ii) reducing her original Match Penalty call to a lesser penalty for the same infraction."

If I'm wrong pls lmk!)

So with all that context... It makes much more sense how that shook out imo. Or at the very least I see how someone(s) could legitimately arrive at the conclusion they did.

I don't say this all to say what happened was ok, or that it wasn't bad, because obviously minor shit can escalate bad. I'm not even super interested in convincing people a suspension or major isn't/wasn't warranted though I'm uncertain how they would've managed it with not making a body check call in the first place.

I say all this because a)I do think sometimes refs see stuff we don't. (Was a ref looking right at them at an angle we don't have and can't recreate that was compelling? Did the ref hear the damn stick thwack into the helmet?) b) the conviction that the refs are rigging shit is utterly ridiculous and c) the vitriol I am seeing is unnerving and gross. Wishing injury on anyone sucks. Casting people/entire damn teams as evil and willfully trying to cause severe injury sucks, and the evidence isn't there imo when you put the bits together.

If the stick hadn't been there, it would've probably been a garden variety thuggy hit that absolutely warranted a penalty but would not have been so catastrophic. The kind of play we expect from a physical game.

But nasty unexpected hits are gonna happen. It's fast, it's rough. I'm glad the league is putting stuff in place to try and keep those moments down. But they're still going to happen, even with no evil intent or even overly egregious carelessness.

And again, I really, really hope Müller is ok and recovers well. I do expect her to be out a while (THAT will tell me more about the PWHL's commitment to player safety than anything,) but I hope it's as short as possible. It absolutely was scary and I get why people are upset; it is upsetting that it happened, regardless of how the rules shake out.

[natigail]

Dan and Phil share so many hours with each other and yet getting a glimpse of how they communicate when they are apart or just too tired to speak out loud feels like something so special. The fact that it's a series with multiple episodes now, and they openly acknowledge it as tradition is so lovely!

You can hear them in their texts - even as incomprehensible as some of them are - and the vibe of how they exist with each other in that space. On top of that, when they're filming these videos, they share the behind the scenes stories.

What do you mean Dan only talks to Phil on the phone when he's in a taxi and Phil makes up stories rather than having a normal conversation? What do you mean Phil took a photo of sleepy Dan wearing his glasses and then sent it to him randomly? What do you mean Love Game by Lady Gaga is one of their most listened to songs because they play it on a game? What do you mean Phil called his mum for Dan when he got burns in the shower while in Germany? What do you mean Dan sends selfies while across the world? What do you mean Dan's phone number is the one connected to Phil's Deliveroo? What do you mean they use emojis and try to make up the best sounding fake words? What do you mean Dan threatens to kill Phil for forgetting to shut a drawer?

And even with everything listed here, there's still stuff I'm forgetting. There's so much packed into almost every quip, a little window into how they are when they are at ease. At home and with their home person. The easy banter and playful teasing just compliment the vibes while they sit and laugh so loudly at stuff they've already seen before. Because seeing it again together and reminiscing will never not be funny.

I've watched their faces a lot this year with the return of the gaming channel and yet I barely could keep my eyes off them in this video. Several times I would rewind the video to carefully watch an expression again, or simply because I had completely forgotten to look at the text while staring at them.

So much life and love in the way their eyes creases, their smiles flash without abandon and they lean closer and closer to each other. Always in orbit, always tethered. This video was truly a gift and I am so incredibly happy that we got another one, and I hope it does become a tradition that continues for a while longer. Thank you, Dan and Phil!

[willicebattlecatsblog]

chemicals in the lake are making the cats GAY >:(

Basically a masterpost about this specific AU

-Lionblaze transman, autistic and won't pick up any social cue.

-Lionblaze is not a calico, he is a chimera

-Lionblaze big guilt and OCD over his power

-Lionblaze fears he will end up like Scourge as a part of his OCD (i have to find a way to let everyone know that Scourge is related to Firestar tho....)

-Lionblaze and Toadfoot only aknowledge each other in The Fourth Apprentice when they are on their way to the beavers and they become gay

-Lionblaze keeps his personality from late po3 (kind of dumb, can't pick up any clue, very ocd, is socially very awkward and clumsy, clearly needs help to navigate social situations properly)

-Lionblaze is very much the same as in canon, very flawed, he is still the most forgiving of the 3 and does try to talk it out with Squirrelflight and Leafpool, he feels very isolated in his clan due to the prophecy, the lies around his birth and Hollyleaf being presumed dead, which makes him more prone to have a relationship with an outsider instead of a thunderclan warrior

-Toadfoot also went through losing a sibling (Marshkit), he doesn't have a canonical father so I think he would be very attached to his mom (Tallpoppy) and remaining sibling (Applefur), he is also seen being playful, friendly and understanding towards Flametail I love toadfoot

-Lionblaze and Toadfoot have big rivals to lovers energy and it was my favorite weird "crack" ship when I was 13

-The AU also centers around the flaws of StarClan and their weird mechanic that keeps changing over time (ashfur goes to starclan because he just found his way there, and leafpool gets to go through a whole trial somehow???)

-Living cats and StarClan fight dark forest first, and then living cats turn more or less against StarClan for being as incomprehensible as possible, doing blatant favoritism, letting bad seeds get in and throwing out overall good cats, and the warrior code will also be reformed because it's way overdue grrrr

-Maybe Dovewing and Ivypool are the babies of Hollyleaf and Cinderheart instead of Birchfall and Whitewing ? I never really liked that Dovewing was indeed linked to the 3 but she was so far away in family tree tbh :((

-Lionblaze will have babies with Toadfoot as some point (Maybe adopted ? I don't know yet) and they won't have many children, and I will do everything in my power to get rid of all the current incest in the books >:(

-I think the babies of Lionblaze and Toadfoot will look like Tallpoppy and Leafpool because i love them

-Leafpool, Squirrelflight and Tallpoppy will both be aware of the relationship at some point, but they will keep their mouth shut and be supporting mothers because they are very cool and progressive

-I don't know if I will ever write fanfiction about this, I am already working on a clangen project, so if I do anything about it it will only be a small side project ! I use this AU to rewrite things that make me happier than the canon version (like making transman OCD autistic lionblaze, i find it easier for me to relate to him) :)

I hope you like it, I shall disappear again for a while now, I have art fight attacks to work on >:)

[dragon-ascent]

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests.. (if not just ignore it) If you do can I ask for Zhongli waking up reader from their nightmare? Fluff fluff✨

Have a nice dayy

Nightmare

The murky water: thick, stifling, all-consuming. It makes its way past your mouth that gasps for air that never finds its way into your lungs, past your eyes that try and fail to find any beacon of hope.

It's hard to move - you feel heavy, and any swimming expertise you might have fails to rear its head as you flail around in this ocean of black, black darkness. It's like you barely have any control over your body - like a hapless ragdoll, you find yourself at the mercy of the ruthless untamable.

The waves submerge you, hardly having faced a fight. Down into the depths you go, the water pulling your body in different directions. Eerie voices whisper and leer at you as your limbs struggle in one last futile attempt...you're being torn apart...what are the voices saying?

Incomprehensible...

Suffocating...

Paralyzing...

Silencing...

...

"Darling. Darling?"

Oh, so this is what it's like to die. You wake up in heaven with your beloved being the first face you see. Or...no, what happened was-

"Did you have a nightmare?" Zhongli pulls you close without even needing to wait for a response, because he knows. Of course he does.

When you murmur a meek 'yes,' Zhongli kisses your forehead and wipes away tears that you had barely realized were there.

"I'm here, my darling. I'm here now. Nothing shall harm you." He rocks you back and forth at a languid rhythm, stroking your back while he allows you to stew over it quietly. "If you are willing, would you like to tell me about it?"

You drop your tired gaze to the warm, fuzzy blanket covering you both. "It's...it'll sound silly..."

Your husband kisses you again, so tenderly your soul might just melt. "Nothing you say will sound silly, my love. What you have felt in the moment will never be silly."

You find a small smile creeping onto your lips, and so you tell him all about the dark sea, the crushing waves, and the utter helplessness you felt as you slowly drowned.

Zhongli nods solemnly after you finish recounting your nightmare. "Yes, that does sound frightening," he says, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm sorry you had to experience that. I would have been afraid too, had I been in your position."

"You get scared of things, too?"

"Of course, dear. It is one of the factors contributing to my...distaste of seafood." Perhaps it's your imagination, but you can feel him nearly shudder against you.

Your sniffle turns into a soft giggle. "I didn't think of that."

He holds you in silence for a while, punctuating it with gentle kisses and soft whispers of affirmations. The way his arms envelope you is so...comforting, so warm, so protective. You barely register that you're lying back down on your pillow again in a more relaxed position, your tears long dried-up, his arms still wrapped around you with that same protectiveness.

"Shall I give you a nicer dream tonight?" asks Zhongli.

You look into his faintly-glowing eyes. "You can do that?"

"I am an adeptus, after all. Shaping dreams comes second nature, much like sub-space creation."

Smiling softly, thanking all the stars that you found a man like Zhongli, you say, "Yeah. I'd like that."

He caresses your cheek. "Tell me. What shall I have you dream of?"

You don't even hesitate. "You and me, stargazing atop a hill. We would even catch colorful falling stars, because we'd be so high up and super close to the sky." You blush, feeling a little silly for saying it now.

But Zhongli had already made it clear nothing you say earnestly would be silly. "A fine dream," he murmurs, "one I would love to share with you. Now close your eyes, darling, and I promise to meet you there atop that hill where we can catch the stars together."

The God of Contracts never goes back on his word - when your eyes close you find yourself lulled into an easy slumber; and when the initial shroud of black gives way, there stands your husband under a zoetrope of dancing stars, with a smile as warm as the spring sun.

He beckons, and you happily approach.

Finally getting around to requests! Please feel free to drop anything in my inbox, Zhongli-centric of course, and I'll be more than happy to whip something up~

[kirkwallguy]

I agree so much with you that Solas is an active detriment to the Dragon age setting. I am replaying Origins, and my incredibly hot take is that Solas recycles a significant amount of Keeper Zathrian's character, in order to create a more "epic" scale narrative that imo is also much weaker and messier than the original Zathrian to the overall scope of the world and to player engagement.

They're both bald magic elves who have been alive for absurd lengths of time, and who are convinced of their own righteousness even when their actions cause or will cause great and unending harm to those around them. At least with Zathrian his "optimal" narrative path (whatever that may be to the player) isn't gated off behind playing a straight woman, my Tabris can butch out with Leliana all I want and still access all modes of narrative engagement with Zathrian, and the Dalish within the Zathrian quest are granted legitimacy and dignity in their beliefs.

I am not a fan of the reveal that the Dalish gods were functionally just powerful mages, it's so obviously a plot beat written by a certain type of atheist who don't see how anyone could have faith in a greater force, or have curiosity about that mode of moving through the world, which is made even sillier when the setting has dragons and ghosts and stuff. Its so similar to the type of story that takes greek/norse/egyptian gods and re-imagines them as regular guys, functionally wizards, in an urban fantasy setting, wanting the power and drama but shedding the belief systems that go along with the gods, and what those systems do and mean to people. There's so much awe and wonder and hope in the codex entries in the Origins Dalish camp - are these gods gone for good, can they ever return and can the Dalish ever go home either with or without their gods' presence? What do the gods mean to a people who have suffered so much and safeguard those pieces of divinity that remain in stories and song and crafts? What might these echoes of distant gods mean to the city elves, so far removed from what once was but still cherishing the traditions they do have? But no, the Dalish were fools for their tattoos and their beliefs, and all the history and remembrances Zathrian kept and passed on to his people was false. What an idiot. Who even remembers that guy?

Anyways, you don't have to post my anonymous tirade, I just am a huge fan of one (1) bald elf so deep in guilt and tragedy and the weight of history that he is either blind to the harm he may cause, or so secure in his pride and belief in his own righteousness that he chooses to close his eyes to that harm. And that elf is not Solas.

i always giggle when i get to zathrian because he's so obviously prototype solas.

and despite his situation, zathrian's goals feel mostly grounded, we see him amongst the clan and understand his dynamics with the people around him. it's kind of impossible to fully grasp solas' whole deal because it's so hypothetical, all these things happened offscreen to characters with incomprehensible power who may have just been spirits at the time anyway. who give a shit...

and i agree with the religion thing but i'd say i always read dai and dav's handling of religion more as being liberal christianism than overzealous atheism. i wrote this post about dai, and i think dav only made it more true:

there's so little exploration of religious practices in dalish culture, dai at least does a little bit with those few sidequests, but dalish clans in dav are something just distantly spoken about and never fully explained. and this is in a game ABOUT the dalish gods. how is bellara saying (over and over again) "our gods are back!!! D:" supposed to hit when we don't know what significance the gods actually have? 😑 they had something really interesting in origins and da2, but it just feels like any other contextless fantasy pantheon now

[cerastes]

Okay, Hades 2!

Supergiantgames does it again. It’s still Early Access, but it has more polish and content than a lot of fully released games on its price point and higher. Of course, all this content would not matter if it wasn’t good. It’s good. From gameplay to voice acting to sound design to music to graphics and visual elements, Hades 2 is airtight. There’s one exception we’ll discuss, but otherwise, it’s incredibly well crafted.

So far, there’s only one instance in the game I can say needs some important improvements: The second phase of the Tartarus boss, Chronos, who is an end boss. Not in terms of difficulty, mind you, it’s in terms of visual clarity: There’s so many lights and particle effects that making out what’s up can be frustrating, especially when Chronos hits you anywhere from 20~ to 35 damage, or, you know, his 1000 damage practical instakill. The instakill is HEAVILY telegraphed and easy to deal with, almost trivial, but in the concerto of lights and fireworks, it’s possible to miss one or two seconds of Going To The Don’t Die space and getting mulched. That’s not a big problem, it’s just a user experience issue that you just internalize after a few tries and some short term frustration. What IS an issue is Chronos using the Liu Kang flying kick from midst an incomprehensible mishmash of light graphics and taking out 25 HP plus forcing you to reposition in a fight that’s quite lengthy and in a game that’s stingy with its HP.

They don’t need to meddle with his difficulty! They just need to make the second phase easier to parse. It’s a great fight otherwise.

On the Melinoë end of things, some boons and weapons feel like they could use a touch-up: The Torches let you keep shooting while you dodge and move (movement speed reduced), for example, and you NEED to keep shooting to activate Omega Attack which is what actually does damage. But it’s a big commitment because now your defense option is also doubly important as your main movement tool AND your i-frames. This is all really cool! Except the damage does not at all make up for it in a game where the Torches’ linear nature hurt it more than help it, as enemies don’t line up and instead go around each other or otherwise have specialized movement and attack options. The Axe, with its wide sweeps, does pretty much all the Torches want to do, with a lot more damage and less risk. The Aspects of the Torches would try to help: Moros can be nifty, but the ghosts the Moros Torches shoot are physical objects to each other, so they pile up and soon your shots just collide with each other and don’t reach the enemy. It’s a constant tug o’ war with detonating them with Special, which, again, fun, but you have to set up real Hellzone Grenades before they are truly damaging. Basically, a ton of effort for damage I can easily get more safely and easily with other Arms. Which I hope they address, because I like the Torches.

Hestia’s boon is a bit underwhelming, but that’s expected from the DoT build, those are always the hardest to balance. Dionysius in Hades 1 was really strong. Hestia here has potential but ultimately falls off hard because no matter how much you build, it always ticks at 40 per second. That’s very low DPS for Boons that otherwise add no Attack%. With Sister Blades, I can rack up 600 Scorch and it’s still better if I grab Aphrodite instead and do that much damage in a few attacks instead.

And you know what you are seeing here in these paragraphs? Very easily tweaked things in a game in Early Access by a developer known to deliver. I am not worried at all. This game kicks ass.

[basu-shokikita]

skwisface 46?

Ohh, that's a good one!

From this ask meme

46. (Kiss) out of envy or jealousy

Murderface tapped his feet with annoyance. It had been, what, two hours? Three hours? Yeah, three hours of this!

Three hours of trying to watch TV, and he just couldn't because two fucking idiots kept mumbling and giggling next to him. Why couldn't they go any other place? Mordhaus was fucking huge, so big that he wasn't even sure how many rooms it actually had. And they decided to be annoying right next to him? When he was just minding his business? Minding his violent news business?

Why was everybody always out to fucking get him?

"Ehem!" Murderface cleared his throat, a distinctive sign for anyone with a shred of class to figure out they needed to quiet down.

A couple of blue eyes laid of him, he could tell. Yet, instead of reading the room, they resumed the chatting moments after.

It wasn't even the good kind of chatting anyway. It was too loud to go unnoticed but too low to understand what they were saying. What was the point of gossiping in the living room if they weren't even going to share?! Dicks!

Murderface side-eyed the guitarists, hoping to cast some kind of divine punishment onto them for the crime of interrupting his leisure time.

Toki was whispering something into Skwisgaar's ear and Skwisgaar laughed, muttering something incomprehensible. They were looking at a magazine though Murderface couldn't tell what it was about from his angle. That only made it more annoying.

What was up with them anyway? Didn't they hate each other or something? Wasn't he Toki's best friend after all? That's what Toki said, it's not like he cared but why get so drunk and emotional about their friendship and then act like Murderface wasn't there just because Skwisgaar existed?!

What was so great about Skwisgaar? Yeah, he was...not bad-looking and he was okay with guitar, so what?! Did that make him better than everyone else? Did that make him superior to the human race? Who did he think he was?! Did he think being attractive gave him a pass to do everything he wanted? To treat Murderface like shit? To steal his best friend?! Well he was going to see!

They were both going to see!

Feeling empowered, Murderface got up and strode towards them. The stupid duo looking up in confusion, which only made him feel better.

"Ha!" He snatched the magazine off Skwisgaar's hands and threw it on Toki's face.

"Aw!" Toki whined from the smack, his face reddened. "Whys you-"

"Eugh!" Skwisgaar flinched when Murderface grabbed him by the cheeks. "Whats the-"

Gracelessly, Murderface smacked their lips together. Skwisgaar did a surprised noise against him while Toki loudly gasped in reaction.

“Heh." He smirked as he wiped his lips. It had lasted less than 3 seconds which officially made it not gay.

Skwisgaar’s jaw had comically dropped, wide eyes gawking at Murderface in disbelief. Total defeat, he observed smugly.

Toki, already red, turned redder and stood up. “And whats the fucks ams your problems?!”

“My problem isch that you guysch wouldn’t schut up scho I had to take the matter into my handsch.” He crossed his arms defiantly.

Skwisgaar was staring at his hands like he had never seen them before, his mouth still open from shock. It almost made Murderface flustered. Was the kiss that good?

Almost, because he wasn't gay.

"Y-You can'ts does thats!" Toki stammered, still mad. "Thats-"

"Schaysch who?" Murderface spat. "He totally liked it!" He pointed at Skwisgaar.

"Huh?" Toki grimaced, then followed Murderface's finger. "Skwisgaar?" He asked, when he saw the guitarist unresponsive.

For some reason, Skwisgaar was laying on the sofa with his eyes closed and hair sprawled all over his face, his body seemingly limp. No matter how many times Toki shook him, he wasn't moving.

"Skwisgaar! Skwisgaar!" Toki sat next to him in a panic. "Oh noes, I think he faints! Helps, Skwisgaars ams dyings!" He yelled at no one in particular and it reminded Murderface of Peanuts.

Satisfied, he left the scene as a couple of Klokateers arrived with a stretcher.

He really was a goddamn good kisser.

[olderthannetfic]

Since you've mentioned that you use Scrivener as a word processing software, I have a bit of a weird-ish question. I have looked at the programme and it seems incredibly useful, and then I looked at the pricetag and- gulp.

I currently use Word which costs 5 euros per year thanks to university, but am thinking about switching to another programme that isn't related to my uni as I feel too paranoid about my smutty fanfic ideas being looked at by my uni and them disapproving of my writing. XD (Word keeps marking "fuck" with a squiggly line and suggesting I choose another word to avoid offending my readers, but if canon doesn't give Barclay some holographic MMF action taking place during "A Fistful of Datas" and turning both his holographic partners into holographic Data and therefore inducing maximum tension and insecurity due to feelings in poor sandwiched Barclay whenever he meets actual Data after that, I will have to write it myself! :P )

According to the website where one can buy a Scrivener license, one pays for the current version of it and will have to buy later versions anew if I haven't misunderstood. You seem to have used it for quite a while, and I haven't managed to find out when the different versions came out. I know the current one is 3, but I am unsure how much time passed between 1 and 2 and 2 and 3, and am unsure whether it's a good idea to buy a license now or whether it would be wiser to wait if it's likely that another version might be released in the near future (that is within one year for example) because then I might wait a little while with my purchase, heh. It probably sounds quite stingy but I am solely getting it for my tiny and too seldom indulged hobby of writing fanfic, and currently have to kinda sorta pay more attention to my wallet and where its contents go, so to say, which is why I'm hesitant.

The question basically is: As a (probable?) long-time user, do you think it's likely a new version of Scrivener will be released within the next year or so or do you think it's likely the current version will be tha latest to purchase for a longer while than 1-2 years?

I hope this rambly mess makes sense, haven't really slept for quite some time, so I am sorry if this is terribly incomprehensible. Sorry for the weird stingy question. Have a nice day and I hope you have slept and will sleep better than I currently do, heh!

--

I've only used it for like three years.

A quick google suggests that Scrivener 2 was released in 2010. 3 was released in 2017 basically to keep up with OS changes.

(IDK what you searched, but this isn't hard to find, dude.)

Scrivener is a fairly... old-fashioned style of software, I guess I'd call it. Some dude wrote himself a program to write his own novel and then people liked it. Some other guy decided to port it to Windows.

They update approximately never. When they do, recent buyers of the old one upgrade for free and everybody else gets like half off. The trial period is 30 days of actual use. The current retail license for 3 is only like sixty bucks. It's a commercial product, but... not like you've been trained to expect by your average modern software that wants to nickle and dime you at every turn.

Do you need Scrivener? Well, no. Not unless you want customizable high-level ebook output formatting and fancy features like that. You could just use some other free option if you just want to type stories in something that isn't Word. But Scrivener is priced extremely low for what it is.

[the-phantoms-kiss]

I am sorry Pt. 1

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

John Wick X Fem!Reader 𓍯𓂃 Angst • -1k Words

Maybe he was right all along…perhaps people like us don’t deserve to feel love, and yet, here I sit on the floor in the hallway to a house he rarely resides in, weeping as I pick up the last of my belongings. Maybe he was right… I’m the problem. It has to be me, I must be the problem, otherwise he wouldn’t be afraid of loving me. That’s got to be wrong though, that would insinuate that he loved me at all which isn’t true. I could never be loved.

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, just take your stuff and leave.” His voice was muffled from the other side of the door I was sitting across from. “John, please-“ god I sound so pathetic, it’s no wonder he hates me. Silence, my pleas were met with silence, but not the kind we were used to, sorry, the kind I was used to. It was no longer silence where words weren’t enough to communicate, it was the kind where words would only take up more space within the heavy tension. Maybe he simply didn’t hear me. My John would never leave my pleas unheard. ‘My John’ what a foolish concept, he was never mine.

“Why? Why John? WHY?! Why? Just tell me why John. Tell me and I’ll leave you alone. I just need to understand why. Please.” I must be incomprehensible with all the sniffling and babbling. Bang. The door opens and slams against the wall. There he was, aggravated, wearing his usual suit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this upset. Man, I must have ticked him off. “I’m sorry.” The whisper breaks, barely leaving my lips. “This. It’s when you do this shit that really pisses me off. When you go and say sorry for every little thing as if it’ll get you some sort of pity points.” Borderline screaming, standing tall on the frame of the door. “I’m sorry.-“ “There you go again.” “I am NOT done speaking. I am sorry that my poor ol’ pitiful me bothers you so much. I am sorry that I’m not as independent as you’d like me to be. I deeply apologize for stupidly thinking that being together for 5 years meant that I’d get to hug my boyfriend once he got home, I am so sorry for assuming that you’d like to have a nice warm homecooked dinner by the time you got home. Shit, I’ll even apologize for loving you even though you told me that killers like us could never feel love. I’ll apologize for every last thing I can because it’s the only thing I’m good at doing. Ain’t that right Jardani?” “Yeah, you’re right. Now take your stuff and get out of my house.”

I stand, push him out of the way, and enter to grab my last belonging. The room was in disarray, with clothes all over the floor, drawers half open, and the dresser which still had my dresses surrounding it. Atop his nightstand was within a frame, a Polaroid he had taken of me on our first official date. Back when we were both working as assassins, before the crash.

I miss those days. I miss when I didn’t think that every bad thing that happened was because of my own fault. I miss the days when I thought I had it all under control. I miss when John would draw me a bath and rub soothing circles on my back after a long day. I miss when I felt loved.

“You never loved me, did you? You don’t need to answer that. I already know the answer. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I hope you find someone you’ll love. Goodbye, John. Goodbye. ” Up until now, he’d had his back turned against me since I walked past him, and now he watched in fear as I walked past him again he grabbed my wrist, the one with the frame. “Not this. It belongs to me.” I resisted but his grasp only became stronger, not enough to be tight, but enough to stop me.

“Stop, you’re losing me.” And to that, he let go, scared that he’d hurt me as if I was another assignment. “I’m sorry… just please… It’s mine…” “No. It isn’t. She isn’t. Not anymore. I’m taking my belongings like you told me.” “NO!” His voice cracked midway through, and his breathing was now shaky and erratic. But despite his job, his mood, and his strength, he didn’t have it in himself to stop me from walking out the front door. He probably did. He simply didn’t want to. He didn’t want to or else he would have chased after me instead of falling against the closed door, slumped with his hands on his knees like a little kid who’s hearing their mom drive away.

But it’s for the best. I’m simply wasting his time, loving him, knowing that he’ll never love me.

Where will I go now? Where will I go now that no one has waited for me, now that I’ve been left behind by the only person I gave my all to. Let’s be honest, I never had much to offer, I’m surely not the only female assassin. I’m just a waste of time…

Part 2