#(admittedly I'm also guilty of this)

[itmightbeneb]

.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I tell a couple I'm a mistress for both of them?

this is a long one and a very weird situation but here we go. I (28F) have been seeing two people recently. I've been seeing C (30F) for a little over 5 months and M (29M) for almost 6 months. both relationships are currently in a state of non-commitment, even though I've expressed feelings in both relationships and theyve been reciprocated, but I'm naturally not a super commitment-focused person and both of the people I'm seeing have respected that a lot, so yeah.

anyways, both relationships have been great and I'm incredibly happy w them, and since neither are committed to me I've kind of just assumed that both C and M were likely seeing other people as well even if we haven't talked about it.

WELL. about a week ago C came over to my place to spend the night, which she does like once a week or every other week. she goes to take a shower and I start gathering laundry and grab her stuff to throw in with mine and take her phone out of her jeans. I glance at the screen and see a few texts from a contact called "my love <3"

I was kinda surprised by this because while not talking to me about casual relationships is not something I would care about, the contact name made me think she had a more serious relationship going on, which I don't mind but would like to be informed about.

soooo okay I did an admittedly asshole thing and read the text. and then read a few more. and it became apparent that this was a REALLY committed relationship. like, I love yous, I'll be back home soon, please remember to grab so and so from the grocery store, stuff like that.

the contact picture looked kind of familiar too so I clicked on it to see better and it ended up being a picture of M.

I kind of flipped at this bc this is kind of a ridiculous situation, and I left my apartment for some air. I came back like 30 minutes later and C was waiting for me and confused where I'd been (she didn't see/hear me leave since she was still in the shower).

I apologized to her for looking at her phone but told her that I saw the texts from her partner, and that I was feeling kind of hurt that she hadn't told me that she had a more serious relationship going on, since she knows I value transparency. I specifically did not mention that I was also dating M or knew who he was because I felt I needed to scope out the situation more.

she ended up breaking down in tears and spilled everything. told me that M is her husband, that he doesn't know she's been seeing me, that shes felt so conflicted and guilty because she loves him but has really grown to love me too, that she feels wrong and dirty for keeping everything secret. I'm upset that I've been made into a mistress without knowing, but I try to talk to her about everything, we end up staying up super late talking and crying and pouring our hearts out. I still don't mention that I'm dating M too because I feel like I need to talk to him about this before any big decisions are made on my part.

I ended up inviting M to stay at my place a few nights later, and I confront him about the fact that I know he has a wife (made up something about my friend seeing them out together) and ask why he's kept this from me. his reaction was really similar. guilt, not understanding why he's attracted to two people at once, saying he very deeply loves C and doesn't want to leave her but really loves me too, says he's confused and doesn't know what to do. I don't mention to him that I know C or that I'm dating her.

I asked him if he's heard of polyamory before, and he said yes but he doesn't know anything about it really. I ended up encouraging him to maybe talk to his wife to see if that's something she'd be interested in, but he was terrified that she'd be hurt by the suggestion.

I really do love both of them and don't want to leave them. I've been poly for a long time and am very familiar with navigating ethical non monogamy, and to me this feels a lot like two poly people struggling to come to terms with and accept a facet of their sexualities, and they're just navigating that confusion and self discovery in ways that are...not great. but, I want to give them grace for their mistakes I guess?

so this is the part where I think I might be the asshole if I go thru with it. I've talked with both C and M separately about talking to their spouse about what's been going on and about polyamory in general, and they're both fucking terrified and really don't want to. so, I was thinking of inviting them both to my place at the same time to hash it out (without telling them that the other person will be there, since they still don't know I'm dating both of them). I think once they realize they've been dating the same person things might be easier to navigate, and will force them to confront what's been going on?? but also idk if springing this on them is the best thing I could do, but I really have no idea how to navigate this differently.

to be frank, if they love each other and both love me, my ideal outcome is that we continue things as they have been but with no secrecy and 100% transparency. I'm also afraid that even though they've both been seeing the same person and have expressed interest in polyamory after talking about it with me, they might feel personally betrayed by each other and everything could backfire spectacularly, AND I could possibly explode their whole marriage.

so, WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[kkvqwrites]

Bedside Manner

Reader goes into labor while Simon's away and calls the first person she can think of. The task force (and some other friends in high places) rally around the couple on the most important day of their lives.

Word Count: 2,587

Characters (in order of appearance): fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Capt. John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kate Laswell

CW: childbirth, hospital setting, medical procedures

A/N: Am I a Ghost girlie? Absolutely. Am I also a sucker for the found family trope? Til I die. This idea wouldn't leave me alone and I'm so glad I stuck with it. I love the way this came out and hope you like it!

"Dear? Everything okay?"

The captain's voice on the other end of the line sounded worried. Both he and Simon had drilled it into you to never hesitate to call Price if you needed anything while your husband was away, but you couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.

"Um, I think so," you began, willing your voice to stay level and upbeat. "I think I just - oof.." Another contraction hit, stealing the air from your lungs. They were coming more consistently now, and hard enough to stop you in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" You could hear movement in the background, him gathering his things to be out the door and on his way to you.

"I'm fine, John. I just didn't know who else to call. I think the baby might be coming?" The words came out pinched as you worked through the tail end of the contraction. The captain swore loudly.

"Stay put, love. I'm on the way - everything will be alright. Want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stay safe and I'll see you when you get here." You hung up before he could argue and fuss like a mother hen.

______________________________________________________________

The knock at the door startled you. You looked at the clock - surely that couldn't be John already. The man lived across town. Not trusting yourself to make it to the door, you called out.

"It's open!"

Turns out it wasn't Price, but Gaz, who stepped into your living room and began taking in the scene. It was a sight to be sure: you, doubled over sitting on your yoga ball, rocking back and forth to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your hips, towel around your neck because you were sweating like a pig, ambient white noise filtering through the bluetooth speaker to keep you calm. For all his usual swagger and poise, Gaz looked a bit frightened.

"Kyle, did John call you? I'm so sorry - I'm sure you were busy-"

"Not at all, I rushed over as soon as I got word." The sergeant came to your side and knelt until he was eye level. "The captain's on his way but I was closer. We didn't want you to be alone any longer than necessary."

"You and your task force are worse than a quilting circle." The jab came with a joking smile, but the smile was cut short by the stab of another contraction. At the sight of your face screwing up in pain, Kyle's eyes got big.

"Can I do something? Do you need anything?" He wrung his hands as he fussed, seemingly unsure whether to touch you or whether you'd bite him if he tried. Admittedly, you weren't too sure yourself.

"Need you to reset - the timer." The words came out through clenched teeth as your muscles tensed and screamed. "Contractions - need to time them."

"The timer - right." He sprung into action, undoubtedly happy to have a defined task to accomplish. As he was fiddling with the device, Price stormed through the door, his demeanor all-business.

"Gaz? What's the situation?" The sergeant hopped to attention as if he was at roll call.

"Got here not long ago myself, Cap. Just reset the timer for contractions."

"Where are we at?"

"Thirteen minutes, sir."

The captain turned to you, assessing you from top to bottom. His expression and his voice softened considerably as he spoke.

"Ready to get to the hospital, love?"

"Can't - they told me to wait until they're five minutes apart." The man looked bewildered.

"And just let you sit here and suffer? Not on my watch. Gaz, grab my keys - "

"John," you interrupted. "I already called. They won't admit me yet. We just need to wait it out."

"Nonsense, love. You wait til I get someone's ear over there. Five minutes my arse." He moved to help you stand, but stopped in his tracks as he took in your face, your lip trembling. "Is there something else?" As if on cue, a fat tear rolled down your cheek, the first of its kind since the pains began.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," you squeaked out. "Not for a few more weeks. Simon's supposed to be here."

The men shared a glance, looking stricken. Price leaned down next to you, a broad hand gently squeezing your shoulder. His voice was soft when he spoke, a renewed slowness replacing his prior rushed pace.

"I know, love. I know it's not ideal, and I know you're scared. I know Simon would give anything to be here, that he'd split heaven and earth to be with you right now. But I also know he'd want you and your little one taken care of, yeah? He wouldn't want you to wait."

You nodded, despite more tears threatening. "Doesn't change the fact they won't admit me yet."

The captain's mouth quirked defiantly. "You let me worry about that. Gaz, help her up. I'll drive."

______________________________________________________________

Simon was tired down to his bones, feeling like a wrung out rag after the most recent mission. Despite that, the man was a ball of energy as he hopped off the plane, desperate to get back to you.

"Someone's antsy," Soap drawled, taking a more leisurely pace. He slid his sunglasses on as Simon switched on his cell phone anxiously. "Got somewhere to be, LT?"

"'Matter of fact I do - home." Simon impatiently hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "See my wife, eat a real meal. Finally build that godforsaken changing table. Who knew a baby needs so much furniture?"

Soap barked a laugh, but Simon tuned him out as he put his phone to his ear. He'd gotten a voicemail from you, and everything else ceased to matter.

"Hey babe, it's me. I'm not sure when you'll get this, and I hate to worry you. I'm sure it's fine. It's just... I've been feeling some contractions-"

Simon didn't hear the rest, nearly dropping his phone as he broke into a run.

______________________________________________________________

True to his word, Price argued with the hospital staff until you were taken up to a room. You were sure he must have pulled rank, threatened to call people, but he refused to let you worry about it.

The ride had been smooth, despite John driving like a bat out of hell. Gaz stayed in the back seat with you, clinging to your hand and fussing. Later, you'd think it was funny how he seemed to need more encouragement and support than he offered, but at that moment very little was funny.

You had been able to stay in denial for an admirably long time. The past few days, you were able to tell yourself it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not the real thing. That even when it became evident the real thing was starting, that it wouldn't progress quickly. That even though it was progressing, that Simon would walk in the door just at the right moment and sweep you into the car and off to the hospital and all would be well. Even when your gut told you to pick up the phone and call the captain, you had managed to make yourself believe that you were wrong, that it was a false alarm, that you still had more time.

Now, here you were, connected to monitors and being poked and prodded by nurses. Medical history, allergies, birth plan, you felt like you were in interrogation rather than a patient receiving care. And if it wasn't the nurses it was the two men standing off to the side, one wringing his hands in worry and one watching the nurses like a hawk and barking questions. The contractions were closer to eight minutes apart now, progressing quickly. Now the situation was very real, and as thankful as you were from the support from Price and Gaz, your heart threatened to shatter at the absence of the one person who mattered most.

______________________________________________________________

"Bloody fuckin' hell, no one will answer their phone!" Ghost barked, ready to throw his out the window. He'd had radio silence other than a second voicemail, this one from the Captain:

"Simon, Price here. Just got word from the missus that the baby's on the way. I'm headed there now. I don't want you to worry about a thing, I won't leave her side. I'll update you as I'm able."

"She knew to call the captain; he's probably with her now," Soap offered from the driver's seat. He'd practically had to arm wrestle Simon for the keys, but ended up convincing him that he'd be able to call for updates if he wasn't worried about driving. Silently, he thanked the saints Simon had agreed; who knows what carnage he'd unleash on the roads as worked up as he was.

"He better be, or I'll - not now, Laswell!" Simon rejected the third call from the station chief since landing and tried Price again. He was sure he'd hear about it for skipping debrief and jumping in the car, but right now he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. When Price's phone again went to voicemail, he was about to go nuclear when the car's Bluetooth lit up with Laswell's number.

"Shite; let me answer it LT." Soap pushed the button. "Laswell, it's Soap. Here with Ghost."

"I know," she said impatiently, her voice filling the space. "I've been trying to call all afternoon. I know what's happening and I'm here to help."

"What? How do you know?"

"Price called me as soon as he got word, asked me to find you. Anyway, you're wasting time heading in that direction; there's a lane closure ahead and you're about to be neck deep in traffic. I've mapped an alternate route for you. Take the next left."

The two men looked at each other in confusion before both starting to speak at the same time.

"Left? That takes us the wrong way-" "How do you know where we're at?"

"Boys! Boys, listen," she continued, exasperated. "Don't worry about how I know, just do as I say. We're gonna get you there as fast as possible. Now turn left!"

Soap cut the car to the left, ignoring the indignant honks of other drivers as he began to cut through the city under Laswell's watchful eye.

______________________________________________________________

"The doctor says you'll be ready to start pushing soon. How are you feeling?" The nurse was genuinely trying to be nice, so you bit back on your retort of how the fuck does it look like I'm feeling? My insides are exploding! and instead chose a weak smile and a head nod.

Once the nurse whisked away, Price was back at your side. You could tell by his expression he wanted to give you a pep talk like you were one of his soldiers about to head into battle, but he was searching for the right thing to say. You broke the silence first.

"I'm scared." Your voice sounded small, the words escaping almost of their own volition. The captain took your hand, blessedly avoiding sugarcoating the situation.

"I know. But you're doing great - a real trooper. Even with the needle in the back! Simon's gonna be so proud of you, love. And Gaz and I are gonna be right here. Right Gaz?"

"Right, Cap." The sergeant slid back into the room, cup of ice in hand. While the captain had taken point and begun advocating for you with the hospital staff and asking a million questions, Gaz had been dutifully making sure you were comfortable. Anything from getting you an extra pillow for your back, to helping you tie your hair back, to getting you ice chips since you couldn't have food or drink during labor, he was on it. If either man was uneasy about what was about to happen, they dutifully kept it under wraps and maintained their game faces.

One by one, the care team took up positions around you to get started. Price and Gaz got next to you, each taking one of your hands, ready to offer what support they could. You shamed yourself, one last time, for being ungrateful for their presence. A lot of people give birth with less, you tried to tell yourself. He’d be here if he could. 

 The doctor walked in, donning gloves and getting a quick status update from one of the nurses before meeting your eyes. “Evening, ma’am. We’re going to-” 

Her words were cut off by a commotion in the hall, a door slamming and what sounded like some raised voices. Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances, and Price motioned for Gaz to go investigate. He poked his head out into the hall for only a moment before returning with a big grin.

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here."

Then your husband was in the doorway, and then he was at your side, and suddenly those honey brown eyes drowned out every ounce of pain and fear you’d been holding onto, and that warm, calloused hand took yours, and you were ready.

______________________________________________________________

You would have thought it would be difficult to fall asleep under fluorescent lights, with monitors beeping and staff bustling around. But you had never known tiredness like this, and wanted to take the nurse’s advice and rest while the pain meds were still working their magic. The delivery had been uneventful once the show was on the road, and Simon never left your side, his steady presence grounding and his voice in your ear keeping you calm. Then there she was, a baby girl, the most precious tiny thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d stared at her and cried for hours, stroking her tiny hand and welcoming her to the world until you could barely keep your eyes open. And so, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss on your forehead from Simon, you found yourself drifting off. You were aware, as you floated off, of his slow pacing back and forth with your newborn daughter in his arms, of his whispers to her that were too low for you to hear. Of the guys popping in, as unobtrusively as possible lest the lieutenant tear them limb from limb for disturbing you and the baby, bringing him food and coffee and admiring the bundle of joy.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you, Simon,” said Soap.

“Thank God for that,” he replied.

“You should have seen it, Simon really - needle this long, right in the spine!” Price remarked, not for the first time. “She didn’t even flinch.”

“I’m just glad you made it for the gross stuff,” mumbled Gaz.

“Kyle, you’re in the military. You’ve seen arms and legs blown off.”

“Completely different, Johnny. Not the same at all.”

On and on they bantered, brothers in arms stepping into their role as uncles for your baby girl with delight. One of the last things you heard was Simon, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. For today.”

“Oh come off it Simon,” replied the Captain. “These girls mean something to you, so they mean something to us. That’s what a family is. Now quit hogging her and let Uncle John have a turn.”

You wouldn’t remember this conversation when you woke up, wouldn’t be able to articulate where it came from, but you’d carry with you the bone-deep feeling of connection with this little makeshift family forever.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

(astarion / acebard!tav)

Astarion never received any gifts before - and if he did, he forgot - but he would have loved for the first giver to be his lover, although they seemed pretty occupied with Gale and an object that suspiciously looked like a present.

(not native in english. so sorry if the wording is clusmy in some parts, i wan't sure how to write this xD)

A/N: I made a few adjustments, but I think I know what you're getting at. Hopefully it still works. Also, this turned out way more than five sentences because I have no self control.

Astarion x AsexualBard!Tav Masterlist

Word Count: 921

Astarion couldn't remember the last time he received a gift. The idea of being gifted anything was down right laughable. Nobody truly gave anything without expecting something in return. Some way, some how a price would be paid. He didn't need that hanging over his head, along with everything else. So why did seeing you hand Gale a wrapped parcel sting so much?

He watched as the wizard pulled apart the paper, his brows furrowed with curiosity clearing into a bright smile.

"Oh this is perfect!" he exclaimed. "How did you get it?"

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, grinning yourself.

Gale opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself with a guilty look. "Perhaps it's best I say thank you and leave it at that."

"What do you know, intelligent and wise," you teased. "Just make sure to pace yourself. Don't read it all in one night."

"I've made a point never to make promises I can't keep."

You laughed, giving Gale a light squeeze on the arm before turning in Astarion's direction.

He schooled his features into a casual expression, trying and failing to ignore the burning in his chest. Admittedly the fond look in your eyes did quell the fires, at least a little.

"Successful day?" he asked.

"More or less," you said, taking a seat beside him. "We've got a map. No way to read it just yet, but it's a start."

Astarion humphed, nodding in Gale's direction. "And that?"

"Just some petty thief," you explained. "Gale expressed an interest in it last time we were in town. Couldn't for the life of me explain why, but the bookseller refused to sell. Terrible way to run a business if you ask me."

This was normally when he would laugh or at least grant you an approving smile. Truly, he did love your casual relationship thievery, but it only made him more frustrated. He'd almost preferred you'd paid for it. If you had, he could dismiss the whole thing as a simple errand and not something more.

You frowned slightly, clearly taking notice of his mood.

"Alright, what's got you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting," he said, indignantly. "I'm brooding. There's a difference."

"My apologizes," you said, dryly. "What's got you brooding, oh mysterious one?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressing into a hard line.

"I'm just surprised you would go so out of your way for a book. It's not as if you'd be able to understand it anyway."

A flash of hurt struck across your face, but you pushed it down in a way that made him sick to his stomach. What in the hells was wrong with him?

"Well, it's a good thing it wasn't for me then," you said, stiffly. "Now are you done being childish or are you actually going to tell me what's going on?"

Astarion tried to maintain eye contact in some vain attempt to hold onto his pride, but it was no use. He ducked his head down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I...I don't see why you think Gale is worth the effort is all," he admitted. "It's just a stupid book. It's not as if it's useful to the rest of us. So...why bother?"

He chanced a glance in your direction. You just stared at him, your lips slightly parted as you took him in.

"Astarion, are you jealous?" you finally asked.

"No," he said, a little too quickly, even to his ears.

"So what else would you call being upset over the fact I stole something specifically for Gale and not you?"

"I'm not upset," Astarion objected. "I'm just..."

"Brooding?"

He very much wanted to say something devastating in that moment, that would shut you up and let him walk away from this with some kind of dignity; but, he couldn't think of a damned thing.

"Fine, I'm jealous," he spat. "Happy?"

"Not really."

He closed his eyes, letting out a short sigh. He deserved that.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "You're right, it's...petty and I shouldn't have said that to you. Gods know if it were anyone else I would have torn their throat out."

He looked to you then, hoping you would see the honest truth in his words.

"I wish I was better at this. I know you care about me and I don't need you to commit robbery to prove it. Although, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

To his relief, a small crack of a smile turned at the corner of your mouth.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, some of the teasing coming back into your voice.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

"Only if you mean it."

He didn't have an answer for that. At least, not right away.

With deliberate care, he slipped his hand into yours, raising it to his lips.

He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, only to soften as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. His eyes never strayed from yours. He needed you to see him too.

"I mean it," he said.

A true smile came to your lips, as you nodded. "Then you are forgiven."

He returned your smile, feeling a lightness in his chest only you seemed to grant him.

Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. He had been given many gifts since meeting you. You practically showered him with them every single day, and damn him for taking any of them for granted.

[luveline]

hey lovely! <3 can i request a little something for aaron hotchner? maybe something where he’s being jealous/protective? i adore the way you write him! :)

this is like a very mini fic it's all over the place ♡ thank you for your request!! fem!reader cw weird guy tries to kiss you

You're in New Jersey of all places trying to find a serial killer, and in your opinion, Hotch is being entirely unprofessional. 

You're also really enjoying it, but that's not the point. 

There's a police officer that isn't flirting with you, really, more like he's a touchy guy in general. You're working as the conduit between the team and the police force, and so every time you tell this touchy guy something, it's an opportunity for him to say thank you.

This guy says thank you with a quick shoulder touch. 

You feel guilty, admittedly. While Hotch isn't quite your boyfriend, he isn't not your boyfriend — you're working it out. Or rather, he's working it out. You'd walk into the middle of the road if he asked you to, but Hotch has hang ups about interwork relationships. He's hesitant because he worries about the inherent power imbalance between you. 

It's fine though. You're hoping he'll come around eventually. And eventually might come sooner rather than later, with the way he's glaring holes in this guy's head. 

"Is he making you uncomfortable?" Hotch asks you. 

The door closes behind your guilty police officer. You'd prefer it if the police officer didn't touch you at all, but he isn't necessarily making you uncomfortable.

"It's alright," you placate, feeling the eyes of both Spencer and Rossi on you like laser beams. 

Hotch nods and goes back to work. A small tell, and huge in the eyes of profilers. 

You get further into the case and forget about the guy's touches, but you don't think Hotch can. He sits next to you at every opportunity, and insists you ride shotgun on the way back to the hotel. You have separate rooms, wouldn't dream of ever sharing one with him, so it shocks you like lightning when he invites you in for 'coffee'. 

You sit on the end of his bed. 

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, a moment of weakness. 

He's very tense. Less so at your question, he pulls his weight off of the closed door and sits beside you on the bed. "Of course not." Then, because he's too smart and too himself to avoid the issue, "I'm sorry if I'm being forward." 

"I like you, Hotch. You know I do," you say. In lieu of, Be forward, please. You don't speak with any particular inflection. It's the stone cold truth, and you aren't mad at him for anything. Not his hesitancy to be with you, or his jealousy. 

"You don't think it's arrogant?" he asks. 

"I think it's kind of nice. It's reassuring," you amend softly, "to know you want me to yourself." 

That sounded better in your head. Thankfully, all Hotch does is nod. "I do." 

"Okay, good. You can keep glaring at Officer Paulson, then." 

He smiles at you, half defeat, half fondness. "His name is Poulton." 

"Is it?" 

His smile doubles. He places his hand across the sheets, palm up. You place your hand in his. 

"You really need to get it together," you joke lightly. 

"I know," he says. 

The next day, you're back in the conference room of the Cherry Hill police department, hand pretty much on fire still from his touch where its resting on the desk as you jot down notes. Each time you remember how he'd held it, you'd fingers curl in on themselves, looking for Hotch's hand and not finding it. 

You write down notes, not to be selfish, but because it really helps you connect the dots. You're not like Spencer, you can't store an infinite amount of knowledge up in your brain. You need space and time to work it out. 

A cup of coffee appears to your right. A hand presses flat to the space between your shoulder blades. You beam at the tiny thumb movements and turn in your seat. "Oh… my god. Officer Pauls-ton." You laugh awkwardly, shrugging out from under his hand. "I thought you were someone else." 

"I noticed you in here all by yourself and figured you could use some company." 

Even if you'd been alone, and you had wanted company, and this was a dimension where Hotch didn't exist, Poulton's hand absolutely should not have been where it was. Now you're uncomfortable. 

"Oh, no, that's alright. I'm just trying to make some connections here while everyone's out." 

What a terrible thing to admit. You can practically see the excitement on his face. 

"Yeah? They always leave the pretty one behind?" 

You laugh without meaning to. Usually, Spencer is the one running point, so he's technically right. "You could say that." 

"This all seems pretty boring."

You lean away as he leans forward. You're surprised — you've never been cornered like this, whether he means to do it or not. 

"It's my job," you explain. 

"Now why would a girl like you do something so gruesome?" 

"Uh-" You laugh clumsily, wondering how the fuck you're gonna get out of this situation. You start by standing up and turning to him completely, the backs of your thighs pressed against the desk you'd been working on hard enough to ache. "A girl like me? I love the work we do." 

"You don't find it boring?" 

"Sometimes, but-" 

"I can think of a few ways to liven it up in here." 

This is the kind of thing your girlfriend's have told you about, over-imposing creeps who use a facade of niceness to get close. Officer Poulton has known you for all of three days, and while you've been friendly, you've never given any indication that you want to be seduced in a public work space.

"No, I don't think so." 

"Come on, baby." 

He steps toward you, hands moving to take your waist. You side step around him, eyes on the door, and he follows. 

His fingers close around your wrist, and he says, "Where are you going?" 

You yank your hand away and glare at him, other hand behind you and opening the door. You close it between you. You want to call someone. One of your friends, your team. Your heart races. 

You can't tell if you were in danger or not. 

You make your way through the bullpen to the women's restroom and hide in one of the stalls, typing a quick text to Garcia, who's most likely to respond. 

Weirdo just tried to kiss me at CH PD. Hiding in the bathroom. Swear some guys see a polite smile and take it as enthusiasm. :[ 

You don't want her to panic, so you add, It's fine, though. How are things back home?

You spend a little time in there, as much as you can allow, hoping desperately that Officer Poulton has left the conference room so you can get back to work in peace. 

he did wt? R u ok??? wts his address?

The bathroom smells like bleach, and the toilet tank behind you drips. It's cold, and you feel an odd mixture of embarrassed and ashamed, though you don't have any reason to feel either. 

I must have said something to him, you think scornfully. Something that made him think- 

You shake your head. That guy's just an oddball. He saw signals where there weren't any. You didn't do anything wrong. 

After some mild internal debate you stand up to face the music. You're barely a step outside of the bathroom when you're bumping into Emily, who's expression floods with relief. 

"What happened?" she asks urgently. 

"What?" 

"Garcia said some guy came onto you? Officer Touchy?" Her eyes are sympathetic, her lips pinched into a friendly, pitying pout. 

You gawp. "She told you?" 

"What did he do?" 

"Nothing awful, he just- he put hid hand behind my back and I- he was leaning over me so I tried to leave and he grabbed my wrist. It wasn't anything more than that." 

"He grabbed you?" she asks. 

You look up to find Hotch a few paces behind. His expression is unreadable. His tone, less so. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, all the airs of someone taking pre-measures.

"I'm perfect. He barely touched me. I only told Penelope because I-" Why did you tell Penelope? "I don't know. He surprised me." 

"I'm going to speak to the Chief of police," he says. "If you'll be alright?" 

"I'm fine, there's really no need."

"It's disrespectful," Emily says, fiercely protective over her friends no matter what. "We're here to help them and you've got officers acting like frat boys." 

Hotch says your name, pulling both of your attentions. "You're sure you're okay?" 

You smile at him softly. It's good of him to be so concerned, but unnecessary. "I'm fine, I promise." 

He takes your word for it and turns around. Emily lets out a low whistle. 

"Someone's in for it," she says. 

You don't know how right she is until you hear his raised voice. Chills run down your spine at his tone, so formidable, so sternly contained.

"Touch my agent again and you'll be working desk jockey for the rest of your career. Do I make myself clear?" 

You can't hear it, but you imagine the answer is, "Clear."

That night, laid like two twin commas invested toward one another, you ask, "'My agent'?" 

"You're one of mine, aren't you?" Hotch asks quietly.

"But am I yours?" you ask. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, the bulk and curve of his bicep firm against your neck, and smiles, lips resting at the crown of your head. 

"Do you want to be?" he asks. 

You curl into his touch and embrace, warmed by his body heat and the blanket he's taken care to pull up to your chest. He smells like toothpaste and eucalyptus body wash, his hair still damp from the shower. You breathe him in indulgently, and you close your eyes to sleep without responding to his question. He already knows the answer. 

[thepixelelf]

how to harvest sunshine

a continuing part for the couple from the only way to get a good sleep!

genres: established relationship, fluff!! pairing: reader x seokmin words: 475 (ik it's short and doesn't need header images but idk it's a part 2 😭😭 idk) warnings: none :] notes: this is for elv @seokmins day once again!! ((ignore that this is a little late pls ty ily <3))

Seokmin has been a little, itty bitty, teensy bit dishonest with his boss for the past eight days.

Yes, this city is beautiful. Yes, the views are incredible. Yes, he's very grateful for this opportunity, and for being especially chosen to join him on this business trip.

But truthfully, Seokmin wants to go home.

Not because the city isn't beautiful or the views aren't incredible or he isn't grateful, but because he really, really wants to see you.

"For the record," you say as you prop your phone on the counter so it captures your upper half and some of the sink. "I also haven't seen you in eight days. I miss you too."

With a sleepy smile, Seokmin watches you as you start to wash the dishes. He wishes he was there to help you out, but he's hours away -- by plane -- and stuck in this admittedly nice hotel room. "I could just get on a flight tomorrow. Leave early."

You chuckle. "I don't think that's the best idea."

"Didn't you just say you miss me?" he whines with a pout.

"Now now, don't be like that," you tease, wiping your hands dry on on a tea towel. "You told me you were excited to visit that famous pizza place tomorrow."

He beams. "Guilty."

"Ooh. Hold right there."

"Hm?" Seokmin tilts his head, confused.

"No, wait, put that smile back on." You reach over for your phone and pull it so he sees your face more up close.

He can't help but laugh. "What are you doing?"

"Harvesting sunshine," you say with a cheeky smile. "Screenshotting. I'm going through withdrawals."

"Withdrawals?"

You take another picture of him. "A vitamin D deficiency, at least. I haven't gotten to see my favourite smile in a week."

"Any tips on how to collect moonlight?"

Snapping one last screenshot, you put your phone back on the counter. "Hmm... not unless you do get on that plane tomorrow."

You shouldn't tempt him like that, he thinks. If he didn't know you were just being silly, he'd book the flight right now with your video call at the corner of his screen.

Seokmin shifts on the hotel bed, letting his head rest on the pillow and hiding his smile under the edge of the blanket. "Hey..." he drawls.

You put the last dish on the drying rack. "Yeah?"

"Remember how I asked you to marry me?"

Chuckling, you slide the ring you'd taken off while your hands were wet back onto your third finger. You wiggle your hand in front of the camera. "Yes, sunshine, I remember."

"Can we do that soon?"

You try to hide how wide your smile is by pressing your lips together between your teeth, and you cross your arms with a shrug while nodding towards the drying rack. "Can I get these dishes done first?"

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being a new member of the Red Hair pirates eleven years before the main plot

Benn: This is Hongo, the ship's doctor

Hongo: And who is this ravishing creature?

Benn: down boy, this is the rookie that Shanks dragged home.

Hongo: Oh you poor thing.

You: Shanks picked me for my combat abilities

Hongo: you must be strong then.

You: admittedly my strength is nowhere near the boss's level, but I can go toe to toe with a rear admiral in a fight.

Hongo: I see

Uta: don't sell yourself short, I watched you spar with papa, and he was getting winded. *Makes those grabbie hands that signal she wants you to pick her up*

You: thank you, and who are you if I might ask. *Picks her up*

Shanks: that is Uta, my adorable daughter.

Uta: I'm papa's favorite, and don't you forget it, I'm also the ship's musician.

You: really, what instrument do you play?

Uta: *gestures to her throat* my voice box, I'm a singer.

You: I eagerly await your next performance then.

Uta: wait no longer, places everyone! *Claps her hands*

Hongo, Yassop, and Lucky Roux: *scamper around to clear a spot and set up a stage for her*

You: (ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ) ???

Benn: *scoops Uta out of your arms and carries her to the stage*

Uta: (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ a song for the newbie *starts to sing*

Yassop: *puts a chair under you and gently pushes you into it*

Shanks: *moves his chair next to yours and leans in* isn't she so cute?

You: yes, she has such a beautiful voice. Do you and your men usually allow yourselves to be controlled by the whims of a child?

Benn: ... Yes, but only because we want to

After the song

Uta: *chilling in your lap* what'd you think?

You: you're an exceptionally talented singer, you must put a lot of work into it.

Uta: of course, practice makes perfect.

You: and you seem to have everyone here wrapped around your little finger. They must love you very much.

Uta: yes... I think they feel guilty, since my parents are dead.

Shanks: it's not that

Yassop: at least not entirely

You: I figured you were adopted.

Uta: what do you mean?

Shanks: how could you tell?

You: because she's talented,

The crew: (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠) ....

You: *quickly adds* at something besides fighting and debauchery.

The crew: *laughs*

Shanks: wow, already making cheap shots at your captain on your first day aboard. It's true, she's talented, she gets it from her mother. We do our best to make sure she's provided for, but there are still some areas we are lacking in.

Uta: yeah, like shopping

Benn: we take you shopping, literally every time we make port.

Uta: Yeah! But it is always to sleazy back alley joints where everything is second hand and not the designer shops that have cute new clothes. All because of papa's ugly mug has a bounty on it. Plus none of you have any sense of style, and can give me useful feedback on my outfits.

Shanks: well that's true, hey! You shouldn't call people, especially your poor father, ugly!

Benn: I have always wanted to take her to those shops too, our little girl would look so cute in those nice clothes.

You: I can take you, I don't have a bounty, and I know a little about fashion.

Uta: *looks over your outfit* your fashion sense, outwardly, appears to be less offensive to the eyes than papa's.

You: uh, thank you.

Shanks: Offensive? What about my outfit is offensive?

Uta: your shirt is wrinkly and stained, and your pants!... Don't even get me started on your pants.

Benn: allow me, they look like you made them out of someone's grandmother's couch.

Shanks: alright, thank you I get it.

You: *grumbles* Sandals are a little worse for wear as well.

Uta: *giggles*

Shanks: y'all are teaming up on me

Benn: yeah guys, he's only got one arm, it's downright unsporting.

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[phoebepheebsphibs]

I mentioned in a reblog thing that I'd wanted to make a Rise comic series called "ROTTMNT: UNPAUSED" and I hinted to one of the finale episodes being called "Mikey's Birthday Bash"

Well I'm gonna infodump about that now...

So basically the episode started off with Mikey waking everyone up for a special breakfast to celebrate his bday, only to discover that not only did his brothers forget his bday, they all made plans of their own. To quickly make up for it, the guys take him into the Hidden City for a quick shopping spree before they all have to leave for their engagements. While Mikey is looking for something to buy, he overhears his brothers conversing about how in the next year, Raph won't be a TEENAGE mutant ninja turtle anymore (he is 17 currently). Donnie adds that he is already looking for colleges to join and hopes for an early admission. Leo also admits he has been planning for the future. Mikey realizes that his brothers are all planning to leave and grow up, which he is not ready for. He runs away crying, and meets a strange old hag who sells him a "special" birthday candle, which she promises will grant his biggest birthday wish.

Mikey finds his bros again and uses the candle on a meager cupcake they got for him. As soon as he blows the candle out, the four are transported into a version of the Battle Nexus, trapped there along with every other character from the show (and my comics) by the hag who sold Mikey the candle. She reveals that Mikey's wish was for "everyone to spend my birthday together", and the only way for them to escape is for the turtles to win the tournament! The bros are furious at Mikey for making the wish, and Mikey promises to get through the games as quickly as possible so they can get back to their plans and leave.

The hag states that the turtles will be pitted against their previous enemies, and with each round they win they'll will receive more allies. Anyone KO’d will be eliminated from the round and sent to watch in the audience, and upon the ending of the game all contestants will be returned to their last location. The enemies will get progressively more challenging until they defeat all of their opponents.

Round 1, April is with the guys, and they are up against Baxter Stockboy, Albearto, and the Purple Dragons.

Round 2, the Casey Joneses join the fight against the Foot Clan.

Round 3, Draxum, Splinter, Big Mama, and the two missing siblings hinted at by the writers join against the evil league of mutants and the Mud Dogs. April is KO’d after getting slammed into a wall and knocked unconscious by Heinous Green. Cass is KO’d by Hypno after he hypnotizes her to knock herself unconscious as well. Draxum is KO’d by Meat Sweats after he steals his power.

Round 4, Several characters (such as Agent Bishop and Mona Lisa) join to fight against the Triceratons (which were introduced in my series). During this round, everyone is K.O.'d except the turtles. However, Mikey sees that he didn’t finish the battles in time and his brothers have missed their appointments. He feels guilty, and his brothers are admittedly irritated.

Round 5, the final boss battle. They are pitted against the Shredder and the Kraang. Before the fight begins, Mikey has a blowout with his brothers and finally admits that he was angry they were gonna leave because he was scared of growing up, as he is not ready to be an adult yet and he doesn’t want to be alone. The Kraang interrupts stating “I can help you with that” and captures Mikey. However, the Turtles get one last team member… Karai. The Shredder -- having been defeated and Oroku Saki redeemed -- turns against the Kraang and sides with the Turtles and his daughter. The boys defeat the Kraang using the special formula from the movie, but not before the Shredder and Karai are K.O.'D by the Kraang. The Kraang are defeated with the last of the mixture, but to the boys' horror they see that Mikey was kraangified, and now have to fight against him as their last opponent. They try, but are unable to defeat him due to his increased strength AND his ninpo. Leo refuses to admit defeat, saying “Mikey never gave up on me… I can’t give up on him.” He tries one last attack, grappling with Mikey and holding him down...

I happened to make sketches of what came next...

The game finished, everyone is returned home. Mikey apologizes for everything, but Raph admits that he isn’t ready to grow up yet either, and he never wants to leave Mikey alone. He found out the hard way what that felt like, and the brothers agree to wait a little longer to grow up and enjoy being the teenage mutant ninja turtles while they can. Back at the lair, everyone bursts in to make sure Mikey is okay. They spend the rest of the day with him, enjoying his birthday...

So yeh that's that

[thesoftboiledegg]

"Fear No Mort" was constant whiplash. In fact, I struggled to evaluate this episode at first because it was one twist after another. Throughout the episode, I had flashbacks to "M. Night Shaym-Aliens!" (the rap scene might've been a direct reference) and the Rickbot reveal in "Ricktional Mortpoon's Rickmas Mortcation."

For better or worse, season seven's had a lot of callbacks and episodes that mirrored previous ones: "That's Amorte" played out like "Mortynight Run"; "Air Force Wong" brought together Dr. Wong, the president and Unity; "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie" was a "Get Schwifty" sequel.

Seasons six and seven have also piled on the fanservice. The first four seasons stubbornly refused to give us what we want, dangling fan theories or a gentler Rick in our faces before yanking it away. Rick started to change in season five, but it's another ten episodes before you get Rick in a suit and tie, Rick announcing that Rickcest is canon, Rick regularly going to therapy, Space Beth joining the family and other content that's floated around the fandom since 2017.

And let's not forget the big one: C-137 Rick and Morty, Prime Rick and Evil Morty in one episode, fighting and teaming up after we saw Evil Morty's once-forbidden backstory.

Some call it cheap thrills, but I call it a gift to the fandom that's patiently waited for the fakeouts to end. And now that I've said that: "Fear No Mort" was one giant fakeout.

But was it, though?

This is the most unpopular opinion in the world, but I'm not invested in Rick and Diane's relationship. As a gay woman, I just don't connect with opposite-gender couples. Also, I dislike the trope of the idolized dead wife that the audience only learns about through her widower. She's not her own character, just an extension of the male protagonist.

When the fake Rick and Diane reconnected, I thought "Oh boy, this is getting cheesy." They're falling for each other again: check. Rick feels guilty about her death: check. We see how similar they are: check. Rick doesn't want to leave: aaaand, check.

I'm also a little lost after the ending. Morty was the only one in the hole, so why did we see all these scenes from fake Rick's perspective? Was an NPC really that busy?

How much we learned about Diane is debatable, too, since Morty never met her. I guess his ideas came from whatever Rick's told him and maybe the ship's voice since she's based on Diane.

I did like how the episode kept reminding us that Morty's still in the Fear Hole. I mean, we didn't know that, but we knew that. No "Are they in the Fear Hole or not??" until all the twists in the third act.

Aside from that, I don't want the show to revisit the past too much because Rick needs to let go. If you're a Marvel fan, you saw the backlash to Steve Rogers traveling back in time to spend a lifetime with Peggy in "Endgame." He had a life in the present, but he refused to move on.

Nostalgia makes us yearn for earlier years, but if Rick abandoned his family to live with Diane in another reality, I wouldn't call that a sweet ending. I'd call that a disappointment and a waste of his character.

Turns out, Rick never had that option at all.

Well...in a way, he did. And when Morty told him what he saw in the Fear Hole, Rick ran back to the restroom. He looked into the hole. He thought about it. And then he did what I wanted him to do, which was walk away. In this moment, he chose the present.

Admittedly, Morty's fear came true: Rick didn't jump in the hole after him, he did just sit there and watch, and he didn't want to say that Morty's irreplaceable out loud. Plus, Rick was bewildered when Morty hugged him. But for the first time, instead of standing stiffly or gently pushing him away, Rick started to hug him back.

We also saw what Morty didn't: Rick smiling to himself after hanging up the picture of Morty that he kept in his wallet. He had the chance to wallow in shadows of the past, but he didn't take it. Rick chose him.

"Fear No Mort" could've ended with Rick just saying "Let's go" and leaving, but it didn't. Seasons one and two Rick would've bitched and moaned about Morty taking so long. Season three Rick would've left him there for a while to torment him. Season four Rick would've found a way to take advantage of this.

But seasons five, six, seven? That's real character development. That's what all the Twitter users saying "Wow, Rick and Morty is actually good" have been missing out on.

And for the first time in the series, a season didn't end with Rick relapsing or getting a (well-deserved) ass kicking. Is Morty going to get the grandfather that he deserves? Or will he move on, too, now that Rick's releasing his iron grip? Speculating is fun, but for now, let's focus on today.

[lost-between-letters]

Let's Go Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x wife!teacher!Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @lelapine

Word Count: 1,220

Summary: you work as a teacher at the local high school and often stay later than you mean to. Luckily, you've got a husband who checks his watch regularly

A/N: this isn't spell checked (as almost everything I write) so read at your own risk. Also, sorry if the ending feels off, i couldn't decide where to cut off (and yes, that student is who you think he is, I couldn't resist)

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to see this stuff on my own," Steve raked his hand through his hair and stared down at the essay lying between them, "I'm sorry Mrs. W."

Y/N sighed and put down the red pen she'd used to circle in the more outstanding motives in her copy of Macbeth. They've been through various versions of this exchange now over the past few weeks. "It's okay, Steve. Not everyone's going to major in English lit."

"But I've got to pass this class!" There was a desperation in his voice she hadn't expected. The poor boy looked about two D minuses from outright begging.

This wasn't how Y/N envisioned her night to be going when she heard the knock on her classroom door. An hour after her last class. Steve had been coming to her fairly regularly for his essays once she'd realised that he'd need the extra help, but today, he was downright frantic.

So she refrained from putting her head on the table right next to his and instead forced her tired eyes to stay open and show the trust she had in him and his admittedly mediocre english lit abilities. They were enough to get by, and Y/N knew that not everyone of her students would get the appeal of her subject.

"And you will," Y/N said calmly.

"But I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing!" Steve told the wooden table. His voice was muffled by his hands.

"Who does anyway?" A voice came from the doorway.

Y/N looked up sharply, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Sam! What are you doing here?"

Sam smiled right back at her and walked until he could look over at what they were working on.

"It's late," he said simply, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, "and I got worried."

Oh. Y/N checked her watch and came to the realisation that, yes, she'd just spent the last three hours here. Instead of home. Where she had been supposed to be about two hours ago.

Steve's head shot off the table, eyes wide. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Mrs Winchester."

"It's okay," she said, looking up at her husband as guilt settled behind her ribs. He must've been waiting for her, "I'm happy to help you."

"I think you both need a break, though," Sam said and squeezed her shoulders.

Steve all but shot out of his seat and gathered his things. His hands were frantic, almost shaking. Y/N watched him, a frown on her lips. She had noticed that before on Steve. "Yes, sir. Sorry for keeping Mrs Winchester so long."

Y/N got up as well, gathering her things as Sam stood there and watched them, brows furrowed in concern. It was clear that that wasn't a thing he'd come prepared for. Finding her slumped over a stack of papers to grade? Wouldn't be the first time. But a teenager falling over his feet apologising for needing extra classes? Not so much.

"It's okay. I kept my teachers back plenty, must've driven them half mad with all my questions." He was putting on his 'Dean-voice', Y/N noticed with a smile and tucked herself into his side. It had been a long day.

"Always been a curious one, that one," she agreed as Sam took her bag from her shoulder, "he keeps asking me questions about you guys' papers even now. Total nerd."

"Guilty as charged."

That did the trick. Steve laughed, and his shoulders sunk just a fraction.

They walked out of the building together, Sam telling Steve a few heavily censored stories about his own school time. Y/N listened in, nodding along whenever Steve looked to her for confirmation and otherwise stayed quietly tucked under Sam's arm.

Once they reached Sam's car, Y/N all but collapsed into the passenger seat. And stayed there.

Sam chuckled when he saw her almost lying there and ran his knuckles over her cheek, soft amusement in his eyes. "Long day?"

"Too long," she groaned and turned into his touch.

"Then let's get you home."

Y/N hummed in agreement.

For a while, there was only the rumble of the car, and Sam's even breathing that broke the silence. It was such a domestic moment, his hand now resting on her knee, the dark scenery passing her window, that it was becoming a fight to keep her eyes open. Y/N surrendered easily and rested her head against the window. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Anytime, baby."

Y/N hummed again and suppressed a yawn.

"That Steve kid," Sam stopped and looked at her sideways, worry in his eyes, "is he alright?"

"hope so," Y/N yawned again and wiggled a bit until she was in a more comfortable position, "he's gonna pass my classes 'nd I'm tryin' to check in on him as much as possible."

"Something we'll have to keep an eye on?"

"Nah, just shitty parents and bein' a teenager, I think," Y/N mumbled, "'m gonna rip his dad a new one if i get to meet him, though."

Sam snorted. "Remind me to be present for that."

Y/N nodded and rested her head back against the window. That day would be a good day.

At some point, Sam turned on the radio and let the familiar tunes wash over both of them. His eyes were steady on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other on her knee, a solid presence. It wasn't a long drive back to the bunker, but it was enough time to create a comfortable little bubble that Sam found himself sinking into. If he hadn't been driving, it would've surely lulled him to sleep at some point.

And that was exactly what it did to Y/N. She was sleeping peacefully by the time they got home, so Sam shut his own door quietly and walked around to the passenger side.

He carefully untangled the strap of her bag from her legs and then leaned over to gather her up in his arms.

Y/N huffed softly once he picked her up but only turned into his chest with a quiet "Sam?"

"I got you, Baby," he murmured and kissed her forehead.

She sighed, apparently satisfied with that reply, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sam carried her slowly to their room, making sure not to jostle her too much now that she was sleeping. Once there, he carefully placed her down on the bed and crouched to take off her shoes before draping the duvet over her curled up body.

He was just about to go and get ready for bed himself when Y/N sat up, blinking up at him confusedly. "Where're you goin'?"

"Brushing my teeth," he smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on her nose, "get back to sleep."

Y/N pouted and pulled the blanket higher. "Hurry."

Sam did just that and climbed into bed with her not two minutes later. Dental hygiene was overrated anyway.

It didn't take long for Y/N to wrap her entire body around him. Actually, his head hadn't even fully hit the pillow yet. He chuckled quietly.

"Love you," Y/N mumbled into his neck, apparently oblivious to his amusement.

He kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her waist, getting comfortable as well. "Love you too."

"Night Sam."

"Night, Y/N."

[suzukiblu]

Day thirteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim gets to the Gotham mall Tim Drake is meeting Superboy at fifteen minutes early because on-time is late, and is entirely unsurprised to have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up. Actually, if anything he’s surprised to only have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up. 

“Sorry I’m late. You will not believe this, but there was literally a cat stuck in a tree,” Kon says with a sheepish, guilty grin as he lands right next to him in full costume like that’s a perfectly normal thing to do, especially in Gotham. Tim is very glad he decided to wait in one of the security cameras’ more out-of-the-way blind spots. 

“I’m surprised the cat let you save it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at him. It is Gotham, after all. 

“He did not,” Kon says, making a face. “He tried to claw my eyes out and then jumped off my head and down into his owner’s arms, who proceeded to ask me why I thought I was too good to wear body armor.” 

“Well, why do you?” Tim asks, feeling a bit of quiet pride on behalf of his city. Gothamites have priorities. 

“Because anything that could hit me hard enough that I’d need body armor for it would trash the body armor anyway,” Kon replies matter-of-factly, gesturing illustratively at himself. “TTK only works on skintight clothes. Like, I did not go for Spandex as a fashion choice, it’s because anything else would shred right off me in an actual fight.” 

Tim feels his own eyes glaze over. 

“Uh-huh,” he manages vaguely. 

“Also I don’t know where I’d get body armor stronger than I already am anyway,” Kon says. “Cadmus doesn’t have any and that’s pretty much my whole supply chain, you know?” 

“Uh-huh,” Tim manages again, still attempting to reboot his brain. “Shred right off, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Kon says with a shrug. “It’s not exactly dignified, fighting crime naked.” 

“. . . uh-huh.” 

Tim blinks a few times. Blinks again. Then he shakes his head and forces the mental reboot. 

“First things first, are you hungry?” he asks. “There’s a pretzel place and a smoothie shop right over there, or we could just hit the food court.” 

“I could eat,” Kon says with another shrug. “I mean, who doesn’t appreciate a good smoothie?” 

“Well, don’t get your hopes up, Gotham smoothies are fine but unfortunately use a lot more frozen fruit than Metropolis ones,” Tim says, which is the one and only thing he will ever hear said against Gotham. 

“Isn’t frozen better anyway?” Kon asks, wrinkling his nose. “Fresh fruit makes it kinda watery sometimes. Frozen it comes out thicker and stuff.” 

Okay, well, Tim is apparently talking to someone who knows a lot more about smoothie-making than he does. Note to self. Also, what an incredibly weird thing for Kon to know. Like, even weirder than the caffeine. 

“Does it?” he says. “I just always hear fresh is better than frozen.” 

“From pretentious snobs who can grocery shop every day, I bet,” Kon snorts, rolling his eyes. Which . . . is a fair and accurate assessment, admittedly. “And it’s a smoothie, not a juice bar. They’re supposed to be frozen, yeah?” 

“Okay, well, in that case, guess we’re getting better-quality smoothies than I’d assumed,” Tim says. 

“Spoiling me, huh, pretty boy?” Kon says with a smirk. Tim experiences every possible flavor of mortification under the sun and smirks back. 

“If I wanted to spoil you, we’d be getting smoothies in California right now,” he says. 

“I mean, we could,” Kon says with a snicker, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“I appreciate the offer but that seems like a lot of travel time just for smoothies,” Tim says wryly. “Did you bring a change of clothes?” 

“No, why?” Kon says, looking puzzled. 

“. . . so we can hang out without anyone bothering you,” Tim says, wondering how that could've possibly not occurred to Kon. “Or interrupting the conversation every five minutes.” 

Kon looks–odd, briefly. Tim isn't sure why. 

“Hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly a scintillating conversationalist,” Kon says with a quick, forced smile. “You might want the interruptions.”

Tim thinks there might be a few more people to add to his supervillain vengeance hit list. Like, just possibly. Maybe. 

“What's your size?” he asks.

“Beats me,” Kon says, looking a little odd again. “I don't wear civilian clothes like . . . ever, really. Like, swimsuits at the beach, sure, but that's about it.” 

“What, never?” Tim asks, a little incredulous. Fucking–what is wrong with literally everyone Kon has ever known, for fuck's sake? 

“I mean, I have,” Kon says with an awkward little shrug, keeping his hands in his pockets. “Just not all that often, so I dunno what my size or whatever is.” 

“Okay,” Tim says, internally seething. Fucking Cadmus. Fucking Superman. Nobody ever even taught Kon how to fucking dress himself? How is that even a thing, for fuck's sake?! How is he supposed to ever get even five fucking minutes of being a normal person if he doesn't even own a goddamn pair of jeans?! 

Maybe Tim could do the supervillain thing a little bit earlier than planned. Like. Possibly. As long as he keeps the majority of his villain-ing outside of Gotham, anyway. That'd work, right? 

“Give me five minutes,” he says. “I'll be right back, just try to . . . uh, be . . . subtle, I guess.” 

Kon looks at him. Looks down at his bright costume and striking leather jacket. 

Tim despairs of his own capacity to do, like . . . anything. Ever. 

“Just wait right here, okay?” he says. 

“Okay?” Kon says skeptically. Tim takes the better part of valor and flees the scene. Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, he's back with a bag full of clothes that he eyeballed the sizes of that Kon hopefully won't hate, and that he also-hopefully eyeballed correctly enough. He's been learning how to do that more accurately, because you never know when you'll need to immediately get someone in new clothes in this line of work, but it's still a learning process. 

Kon takes out the dark wash skinny jeans and bulky forest green turtleneck sweater that should cover his suit effectively enough, as long as he takes off his gloves and jacket and maybe a belt or two, and the outfit's maybe a little heavy for the weather, especially layered with his suit, but it is Gotham and their chances of getting randomly rained on are higher than zero, put it that way. 

“You can get changed over there,” Tim says, pointing towards the nearest men's room. 

“What is this?” Kon asks, puzzledly rubbing the sleeve of the sweater between his fingers. 

“Cashmere,” Tim says, because obviously he sprung for cashmere. Kon wrinkles his nose, still looking puzzled. 

“It’s really . . . soft,” he says, almost hesitant. 

Tim doesn’t say “to be honest, I’ve always kind of assumed you’d appreciate nice textures more than most people, given the ‘tactle’ part of your telekinesis” and just shrugs. 

“I’ll get you something else if you don’t like it,” he says, and Kon bites his lip. “Or if it doesn’t fit.” 

“I mean–it’s just gonna get wrecked anyway. Like, I have a very developed history of wrecking things. Especially clothes,” he mutters, not looking up from the sweater. Which is, Tim cannot help but notice, not an “I don’t like it”. Actually, it’s just about the opposite of that, he can’t help but suspect. 

“Then I’ll get you another one,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just a sweater. I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“That’s very weird of you, man,” Kon says, rubbing the cashmere between his fingers again. “Like, you’re aware that buying superheroes sweaters is not a normal pastime, right?” 

“I wasn’t really concerned with being not weird,” Tim replies reasonably. 

“Uh,” Kon says, glancing at his face for a moment and then . . . pausing, briefly, before zipping off without actually saying whatever he was about to say. 

Well, alright then. 

Tim has several very weird reactions to the idea of Kon putting on clothes he picked out for him and immediately beats them all down because it is really not the time. Not even slightly is it the time. 

But Kon is also currently putting on clothes he picked out for him. 

Tim has possibly made a mistake or two here. 

Or definitely. Definitely Tim has made a mistake here, now that he’s considering how soft and pettable that cashmere actually was and the fact that Kon is about to be wearing it and therefore also going to be very soft and pettable and–

Tim has made so many mistakes here.

[atopfourthwall]

Tbh you lament what people say about you and bemoan "harrassment and bullying". Yet you told RLM to "eat a bag of dicks" unprompted. You said Oneyplays "Are assholes, fuck them!". You'll constantly lecture your own fans, angrily yelling at them for asking when new Power Rangers are out, or for giving you simple, solid advice like below. You say youve calmed down in reviews yet still yell at the comic creators over minor stuff. The comments you complain about getting seem tame in comparison.

Okay, first of all I did not tell RLM to "eat a big of dicks" unprompted. What I said was "Eat a dick, jackass" while talking about the Plinkett Reviews in regards to how parts of them have not aged well, in particular the line that I felt was a bit racist - "Black people don't like Star Wars" (to be clear - I don't think anyone at RLM is racist [AFAIK]. The remark itself feels like it is, though, but that's also emblematic of edgier, wince-inducing internet humor from the time - we're all guilty of awful jokes like this to some degree, myself included). Now I ended up removing this line from the Star Wars Prequel reviews compilation because I realized it was needlessly inflammatory towards them and some perceived it as me attempting to star a beef with them… when of course I don't want to start a beef with ANYONE, much less someone much, MUCH more popular than me.

And no, I did not say Oneyplays "Are assholes, fuck them" (unless I said this on Twitter a long while ago). I'm assuming this is in reference to a part of the Fallout: New Vegas streams. Someone in the superchats asked a question relating to them and my other guests didn't know who they are. I proceeded to spend all of 40 seconds calmly explaining (though admittedly with a bit of light irritation) "They're other streamers, one of whom apparently does a GREAT impression of me. They're also responsible for popularizing calling me Lightbringer, soooo… screw 'em." That was it. But apparently "screw 'em" was TOO MUCH for a lot of people, because I got flooded with hate from that - videos made about how I was "TRIGGERED!" and "HAD A MELTDOWN!" Because that was one of the first public times I ever talked about how I wasn't okay with the nickname. We'll circle back around to this in a minute.

"You'll constantly lecture your own fans, angrily yelling at them for asking when new Power Rangers are out-" Aaand right there you prove that you don't actually watch my stuff. You're just repeating the same garbage from people who ALSO don't watch my stuff, but assume I have not changed at all, that I am the same person forever whose opinions don't change, whose attitude doesn't change, never gets better, etc.

Because I haven't been angry at people asking when the next History of Power Rangers is out in ALMOST TEN YEARS.

And the reason I know that number in particular is because I started my Patreon in 2014. The question annoyed me so much because I didn't have an answer for them and it seemed like they didn't care about anything else I did. But then I started my Patreon and one of the Milestone goals was actual release dates for HOPR. And thus since then I've been able to answer when new ones are coming out.

You want to know how NOT angry I am about the question I am now? I put it on t-shirts.

You can buy them at https://atop-the-fourth-wall.creator-spring.com/listing/when-is-hopr?product=2 and https://atop-the-fourth-wall.creator-spring.com/listing/when-is-hopr-03?product=2 (I was going to post pictures of them but Tumblr keeps breaking when I try). There's a third one, but I don't think I put that one back up because it was intended for Shark Robot where colors are limited and it didn't do very well.

But this is a thing that's brought up by people who hate me - my irritation at the question as if it was still something that bothered me because, again, they cannot conceive that maybe I've changed. No, I am cringe forever and there is nothing I can say or do that will satisfy them.

But no, I "lecture people constantly" evidently. People say I'm obsessed about this topic, about the bullying, that I just talk about it soooo much and I can't move on from it and it haunts my every waking moment and that such "simple, solid advice" like "Be okay with being bullied" is met with unreasonable hostility and my mind fixated on it constantly.

Unless of course you actually look at what I post, what I reblog, what I tweet about and then you discover "Oh, he actually only talks about it when people bring it up to him. He only made that thread because he said the harassment is starting to rise up again and that was days and days ago and hasn't said anything about it since. In fact, on this very Tumblr he's only bringing it up again because somebody ELSE is bringing it up, allowing him a chance to further break down why asshole behavior is still asshole behavior.

So let's bring this back to the "screw 'em" thing. You'll notice that in none of these longer rambling statements I've made have I brought them up. Sure, in that 40 seconds during the stream I did… but that was in the middle of the first wave of it where it really WAS affecting me psychologically hard… and I have not talked about them on stream since then. I don't talk about them in these threads. I don't tell my fans to harass them. I don't make up some nickname for them or mock them or do anything other than maybe some frustration at them during the thread a few years ago (and I am explicitly telling my fans not do so - if you want to be an asshole to them, you can fuck off from my fans). Because I don't WANT to talk about them. They can do whatever the hell they want on their streams. They can call me Lightbringer there, make weird memes about me. It's THEIR space to do with as they please.

The problem is entirely that their fans come to MY space to be assholes. To repeat those memes, to bully me and call me the name. Some do it innocently, thinking I'm okay with it (which, again - is who that thread was directed towards)… but there are others who are being assholes about it. And I'm going to call them assholes about it and block them. And I'm still not going to talk about Oney because I don't want to - they're not the ones who are spamming Lightbringer in my chat or comments or trying to find some way of sneaking it into the comments past my comment filters to try to get a gotcha on me. Hell, I've gotten some people who have said they discovered me and love my stuff now BECAUSE Oney talked about me.

And I'd really like to know which recent review you saw where I was specifically attacking creators in the manner you seem to think I did. Because being angry at a plot point or a narrative decision is not the same thing as attacking a creator. I'll freely tell you about the ones I HAVE specifically called out for shittiness - the racist, the homophobic, the sexual harassers, the transphobic, the one that spread misinformation, or just the greedy assholes. But just looking at the list of the last 50+ episodes I've done that maybe… once or twice? And even despite ALL those horrible things, I STILL tell my fans to leave them alone - to not start fights with them, to not send my videos to them, etc. Because I don't want my fans to be bullies, either.

I will end this with one final thing: "The comments you complain about getting seem tame in comparison." Yeah, well, that's because you're you and I'm me. Something that seems innocuous to one person may be deeply triggering for someone else. Something that seems like an innocent joke might actually be really fucking with someone mentally, as it was for me. And that's why I've tried to tell people "Hey, please don't do that." Maybe I do it aggressively. But sometimes that's the only way people will listen. If people are still doing it even after I've expressed how much it harms me - telling me that I should just "get over it" or "let them do it and respond with a laugh" even though I keep saying it DOES affect me, then those people are assholes and I don't see why I should give them the time of day.

Hopefully this lengthy response (I really am a windbag) helps people understand or it clears up some bullshit. And if it's still not good enough for you, then nothing less than complete capitulation to being called Lightbringer is the only thing that will satisfy you… well, fuck off.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting an autistic kid join my group?

Okaayy this requires a LOT of backstory so bear with me on this.

I am 16F and the kid in question is 16M. I shall call him Tyler. I've known Tyler for like 3 years, never really been friends with him but he has been in my classes many times. Tyler is very blatantly autistic, which means it's very easy for people to pick on him. Other kids will be dicks to him and rile him up because they think it's funny. I am also nd but am quite good at masking so I don't get picked on but I am still a loner. Y'know the stereotypical quiet kid. Last detail to note about Tyler, he never does any of the classwork. Every time I have been in class with him he has just watched youtube on his laptop and will not do the work unless a teacher forces him to. This is important to note for my first major encounter with Tyler when I was 13.

There was a group project and everyone had to pick a partner to do a presentation, standard school stuff you get the gist. Me and Tyler ended up being the last ones left so we got paired together. The problem was that he did not pull his own weight. I had to sit with him and slowly walk him through the stuff we had to do for the project. Then I told him I would do X part of the project and he would do Y part of the project. He agreed and I went to work on it. The next day I asked if he had done anything, he hadn't. I sympathized with this because I also have executive dysfunction and very much struggle with completing things so I told him it was fine, he just had to work on it today and to send it to me once he was done. So I got home and waited for him to send me his part of the project but of course, it never came. So I ended up having to do literally EVERYTHING myself at the last minute. I went to the computer room to finish it at break time and lo and behold who do I see but Tyler in the computer room watching youtube. I gave him a firm telling off because I was hella pissed that while I was stressing out trying to do a group project by myself he was doing fuck all. He obviously felt bad but I was still rather pissed. So on the day of the presentation I did something admittedly very petty in that I forced him to do his part in the presentation despite him never seeing the presentation before. So he obviously struggled a lot. But that was that and I was quite certain I didn't want to work with him again. Flash forwards a bit, he tries to sit with me. I don't want to be an ass so I let him. The thing is that he was completely clueless about all the work so I ended up having to be like a surrogate teacher, walking him through everything. Again. The thing is, I couldn't get my own work done if I was stuck being Tyler's tutor. I was like "Fuck this. I'm not his teacher! I'm not even getting paid for this!!" So I started actively avoiding sitting with him so I could actually get shit done and he seemed to get the hint.

Now, to the present. He happens to be in the same class as me and asked if he could be in my group and I ignored him. I felt bad about it but I did not want to be handholding this kid. He seems to be actively trying to get my attention and trying to interact with me but I am just not interested. Especially since he seems to think that doing things like flicking water at me or slamming doors in my face is a good way to get my attention. I've tried to make it very clear I don't like this behaviour but he keeps doing it. In the most recent incident he randomly poked my back when I was crouching down to pick something up. I really hate being touched so I snapped at him but I feel guilty about it now. I feel like I could've handled it better because he clearly doesn't pick up emotional cues very well. And clearly he's just lonely, which I get but I feel he burnt this bridge a while ago and is just blasting the remains with a flamethrower.

So tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[itsohh]

Popstar MK1 Intros

A/N: Now I've finished off Electra Heart heres some intros set after it. This focus's on popstar reader being in costume when they come to fight + them still being in their relationship with Johnny.

Fighters: Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Smoke, Liu Kang, Shang Tsung

Warnings: None

Intros Part 1 Electra Heart

Johnny: Oh ho-ho-ho gotta say babe that is a great look on you. I always said that the big screen never captured how truly hot I am but I think it also applies to you.

You: Eyes up here Johnathan. I'm not a doll for you to gawk at.

Johnny: Oh fuck that's hot.

-

Johnny: After this can I eat-

You: Not another word.

-

Johnny: Ooo you're so dominant in character, should wear that to bed. I might even leave a little bit on you at the end of the night.

You: Hmp.

-

You: Wait-wait-wait. Ah fuck lemme take these heel's off I can't keep fighting in costume. This was made to sing in no fight.

Johnny: Hey, hey if your feet are hurting go for it. There's no rush, I can wait. Last thing I want is you hurting.

-

Johnny: Have you written any songs about me perhaps?

You: Oh this is kind of embarrassing, but try an album.

-

Kenshi: Flashy.

You: And impractical.

-

Kenshi: When I see you like this it really makes me realize how much you and Johnny are a match made in heaven.

You: Kenshi you're literally blind.

Kenshi: I think any blind man can see how bright the sequins are on that dress.

-

Kenshi: Why the name Nightingale?

You: It's a long story.

-

Kenshi: You always say your stage self is a character you play but I've yet to hear any difference.

You: That's ‘cause that shits embarrassing off stage. I can get away with Johnny because… I mean look at him.

-

Kenshi: Johnny said you wrote an album about him. He hasn't shut up about it.

You: Yeah might have dropped the ball confessing that one.

-

Smoke: Woah I can't believe your- woah.

You: I'm surprised you're familiar with my work actually.

Smoke: Of course, it's a bit of a guilty pleasure but I loved your second album.

-

You: You know if you're ever free your welcome to tag along to one of my concerts and hit up backstage or front row whatever you prefer.

Smoke: Really?

You: Anytime! I always let my friends hang out.

-

Smoke: Your outfit is more stunning in person than I could have possibly imagined.

You: Yeah but the glitter gets everywhere.

-

Smoke: I remember your fourth album got scrapped, how come?

You: My fucking manager rejected it. Too off brand.

-

Smoke: Johnny's always talking about bad managers, have you tried talking to him about your situation.

You: ...I haven't. My manager isn't terrible but maybe I should.

-

You: The timeline you come from, was I like this?

Liu Kang: Admittedly I didn't know you very well.

-

You: Were we not friends in your timeline? Is that why titan me didn't answer your summon?

Liu Kang: You died man years prior, you were forced to come back only to see Johnny mourning his second wife.

-

You: So me and Johnny have always been together?

Liu Kang: That I don't know.

You: Am I destined to die again? So that Johnny can remarry?

Liu Kang: That is not what I have planned for you.

-

Liu Kang: In my timeline you were always in costume. You fought dressed like this all the time.

You: Fuck that. I can barely get through one fight in these shoes.

-

You: Why change up my destiny? Why not make Johnny happy with his second wife?

Liu Kang: I didn't decide on who you should love. I might have put you in the right place at the right time but that was all you.

-

Shang Tsung: Well well, this is certainly a change.

You: Don't worry, you're still the king of costumes you fucking snake.

Shang Tsung: You wound me dear.

-

Shang Tsung: It's a shame you chose to work with these imbeciles-

You: Don't even bother trying to manipulate me. I've been in Hollywood long enough.

-

You: At least I'll look good, at least I'll look good-

Shang Tsung: What are you mumbling? Don't be afraid to speak up. I don't bite- hard.

You: THESE HEELS MIGHT HURT BUT AT LEAST ILL LOOK GOOD BEATING YOUR ASS

-

Shang Tsung: It's curious the way your people worship you, for music alone…

You: You could always give it up and come a musician instead of the whole ‘murdering everyone with souls’ thing you do.

Shang Tsung: Hahaha, you truly are an entertainer aren't you?

-

You: Let's get this over and done with.

Shang Tsung: So eager to meet your demise?

You: Had a long concert today- kinda wanna go nap.

[purgemarchlockdown]

On Narratives, Victim Dichotomies and Amane’s Voting

(Also Known as: I'm sick of not being opinionated on my blog about opinions, lets talk about narratives)

(CW: Child Abuse, Cults, Child Death)

(Disclaimer: As I can imagine there’s probably going to be a lot of people reacting defensively to this so what I'm stating Right Now is that I Do Not Believe that most people voting Amane Guilty is doing it because they believe her abuse was justified. This is not, at all, designed to be an accusatory post.)

So a few days ago I read the “MILGRAM” x “Clock over ORQUESTA” interview which you can read right here.

It’s a really interesting interview and I recommend reading the whole thing but the one that caught my attention was this part.

Yamanaka: That's a difficult question... I'm always conscious of emotional control in my work, but in “MILGRAM”, the content has more live feeling to it. So the story progresses realistically based on the presence of the audience. I think I used a different brain than I have been using to create works up until now, I see it as necessary to think very three-dimensionally. I'm currently trying to turn the audience into characters in my work.

This was really interesting to read and made me immediately think of Amane’s voting.

So Amane’s voting situation is currently trending downwards, even with the initial boost from Double she's been going down slowly recently. This is in stark contrast to the large amount of innocent votes she originally got when Purge March released the first time.

Now the reason I connected the two is that I've noted a narrative being formed between the audience and Amane, specifically, an abuse narrative.

The Text

Let's take a step back to the T1 voting landscape, one that I was admittedly was not apart but I do however know what happened. Amane was voted guilty to make her better and to help her realize that the cult was bad and hurting her. Jackalope acknowledges this intent in the T2 and is dismissive about that idea.

Jackalope: It doesn’t matter whether it’s a child or whatever, when you commit a crime… what? Jackalope: ...Why are you making that face? Jackalope: Are you thinking “I want her to realize her sins" Jackalope: No no, no way…

This verdict comes right after Es Restraining her in the T1 VD. Something Physically Violent that causes her an intense amount of Distress. You can hear her struggle during it, with her breathing heavily and her tone of voice becoming panicked and scared.

In this part she's even surprised that Es would be violent like this.

(Translation)

Amane: What is it? Are you resorting to violence?

Now most people in general would become panicked and scared when restrained. But considering Amane most likely has Experience in being restrained to be harmed, something that we have evidence for in Magic due to the punishment sequences. There is a good chance that Amane was Triggered during this moment.

Amane is in a noticeably worse mood after this, wanting to start a fight with Mikoto.

21/04/16 

Amane: ………… Mikoto: Oh, welcome back Amane! ……what’s with the grim face? Ah, right, the guard summoned you! How was it? Did you cry? I bet you were so scared you cried, right!? Amane: ……alright then. If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get. Mikoto: Huh? Oooi! Hey, are you listening?? Ooooi!

Now this is a T1 Amane, and no matter how blunt or even "bratty" T1 Amane could get, she is never outright aggressive except for this moment. Even when she feels threatened and patronized by Shidou she doesn't react with aggression but frustration, first trying to explain to him why it feels bad when he does that and when he ignores that, saying she'll find someone else to teach her.

Plus, due to information from T2 we can assume aggression is not approved of in her cult. This is the only moment in T1 we see her be outright aggressive towards someone. Right after being physically restrained by Es, and Mikoto antagonizing her by invalidating her feelings.

When Amane got that guilty verdict she was confirmed something, that Es was Willing and Able to Physically Hurt Her. When the restraints from the T2 Guilty Verdict came it also meant that Es and the other prisoners who were innocent are in a position to harm her with her being unable to fight back.

Not only that but the ideal we were denying when that verdict came down was not her cult...it's her "sin" that sin being her Will To Live.

It's easy to believe that what we deny in T1 and T2 is her cult, that's the most obvious thing after all and that's what Amane brings up in her T1 VD.

Amane: Ah, I am looking forward to it! Seeing whether your judgement will align with that of these higher standards! If that is the case, maybe Milgram would be the right world for us to live in, rather than the outside world! Milgram relies on your judgement, isn’t that right? In that case, you could become the mediator for a far more righteous world!!

And to some extent we are denying her cult by giving her this verdict! However, that isn't the main thing Amane is asking us.

In the T1 VD the main thing Amane is concerned about is the concept of "free will" and how "seriously" her feelings are being taken.

A: I see. Then, are the things that I as a twelve-year-old think irrelevant? Are you going to cast aside the feelings that I know I have in this very moment, purely based on the fact that I have not yet lived for a very long time? Judging these things based on someone’s age will not take you very far. Do I, at age twelve, not have my own will? Does Muu-san, at age 16, have more of a free will than I do? Does Yuno-san, at age 18, have more of a free will? Does Fuuta-san, at age 20, have an entirely free will?

If we're breaking this down to the basic concept, this is the question Amane is asking us.

"Do my wants and feelings matter even if I'm a child?"

Magic gives us one response to this. No.

Magic treats Amane's pain as "comedic." With Amane being portrayed as childish for reacting so negatively to it. Her wants and feelings Don't Matter. It isn't a big deal. Why are you being so sensitive about it? We're just trying to help you.

This is important to consider when it comes to the questions Amane asks her god, and the Audience.

Dear wise one, Is this ok? Is it ok to be weak sometimes? I promise! A good girl that keeps a promise is like, mwah! I won’t say “I’ve had enough” Will you laugh with me and forgive me?I take an oath! I can only become a better girl!

Is it alright to be weak? Can you forgive me for being weak? Is it alright that I Did This?

Amane never stops singing this, and she never declares herself a "good girl" In Magic and not only that, she rejects the Idea She Could Be One in the Fist Place.

Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl I hope, I hope everyone can be happy and smile Forever, forever together would be a dream

"Only if" a condition, the requirement being Amane be good. And yet she's treating it like a dream, something unachievable and unreachable.

Now where did I get "will to live" from? It's not something super noticeable in Magic but if we go to the interrogations...

T1 Q12: What is the meaning of life? A: I think it is something you learn for the first time when you look behind yourself when it ends. I do not want to have regrets then, so I live on with all my might.

There it is!

As we know, Amane was been waterboarded

beaten

sleep deprived

electrocuted.

And also has No Medicine or Vaccinations, and is possibly malnourished since her vegetarian diet might not be Planned Properly and thus can't provide her with the nutrients she needs (though that's speculation on my part.)

She most likely has a weak immune system due to the amount of Stress she's been under for most of her life, and lack of sleep can also weaken your immune system. Not to mention she isn't immunized against diseases...like the flu. Which Can Kill You, especially if you have a comprised immune system and No Vaccines.

Not only that, waterboarding, physical beatings and electrocution aren't exactly things your body is designed to survive, especially with no Medical Care. Waterboarding can kill since it's Simulating Drowning and if there's no oxygen in the lungs you Suffocate, Beating...beats you, electrocution sends electricity Through Your Body, and even if the voltage is Low it can and has Killed People.

These are all very dangerous things to go through, especially without any sort of medical care. So when Amane says that, she says that with the knowledge that she could have died, many, many ways, and many, many times.

These we're all done to "save her" to" purify her sinful soul" and Amane has gone on record to describe this as "Love"

T2 Q2: Do you believe you were loved? A: Very much deeply.

And has also gone on to define love as "mercy"

T2 Q9: What does love mean to you? A: To spread mercy with no limits.

To spread mercy with no limits...like being a child perhaps? Even if your a child, you can be granted "mercy" and "salvation?"

(Jackalope: It doesn’t matter whether it’s a child or whatever, when you commit a crime… what?)

These actions were done to "help her" and would have Killed her.

Now, we didn't know about Amane's mother in T1 and admittedly there was not much evidence of her being the victim before T2. However we Do have evidence it was life or death...because Amane was horrifically punished before committing the crime in ways that could have actually killed.

The implication here is clear. If Amane doesn't Do Something she is going to die. It's not a question of If, it's a question of When.

When she asks god if its okay to be weak, when she asks the Audience if its okay to be weak. She is asking if it was alright to Choose Herself over "What is Right." And we said No.

The Audience

Now, you might be feeling some dread now. I am at least and I'm writing this damn thing. The intention of the T1 Guilty Verdict was to "help her" and yet through that it has repeated a pattern of abuse. In our actions we have punished her so she can "learn" and pushed her closer towards a possible death (the death penalty.)

So when T2 Amane rolls around she's aggressive, unwilling to listen, has doubled down on methods of self-punishment and her cult's world view, is physically restrained and presumably punished in other ways, hears voices telling her she's wrong, and is Self Isolating.

This is Really Bad. We've put her in a state that resembles how she acted in her abusive environment, and it is Our Fault. Let's not weasel our way out of this, this entire series is built on that idea that the actions of the audience have consequences.

As Barfsunny even pointed out, The T2 Amane Cover art resembles the scene in Magic where she "punishes her Mother."

And since she's facing the Audience, we are being put in the Role of Her Mother.

The same person who did this to her:

We are, to her, reminiscent of her abusers.

If we go back to how Amane reacts to Threats, she is notably only aggressive when she's being Threatened and Cornered.

We can see this with Es and how they restrain and have authority over her. We can see this when Mikoto antagonizes her and her feelings, we can see this in Shidou when he patronizes and invalidates her feelings.

22/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Amane: I warned you. I can no longer turn a blind eye to this wickedness taking place right in front of us. You’re bringing ruin unto yourself. Do you understand? Shidou: No, I don’t understand. It’s my job as an adult to teach you that throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to make everything go your way. If it’s a test of endurance you want, I’m happy to oblige, Amane.

And we can see this in the Audience in how we voted her guilty and decided that she should Be Hurt.

Now that we've established our connection to her abusers...let's talk about that Dichotomy I mentioned in the title and how Purge March (and Milgram as a whole) purposefully plays into it.

Victim Dichotomies.

So what do I mean by this? Well it's very common in fiction and audience reactions to categorizes victims as either "good" or "bad." With good victims often being appealing, pitiful and a naturally "good person", while bad victims are aggressive, unappealing and tend to do "Bad Things."

Now these are subjective terms, since...morality is subjective. But it is a trend in both fiction and fan spaces to categorize victims using a sense of what's morally justifiable or not. I was in the Steven Universe Fandom, that was/is a Thing There.

Now, let be clear here, there are absolutely destructive, harmful, maladaptive, ways of coping with trauma. However Moral Catagorization of it is neither productive nor constructive, it just makes it easier to demonize people for not "handling" their trauma properly.

This is relevant to Amane because she is repeatedly portrayed as "scary" in her MV.

Look at the use of lighting and framing, the camera being positioned slightly lower to make the audience feel smaller, a constant shadow on the band members faces that makes them feel...well...cast in shadow. The bright light of the eyes feeling inhuman and unnatural, the dark lighting of the room feeling ominous. With a white figure standing in front of a dead body.

This is what you do when your trying to portray something as "scary" or even "evil."

Amane: Both pain and illness are trials. According to our teachings, those who run from them are the worst evil there is. That’s one of the four great principles. No matter who you are, that cannot be forgiven. Amane: Oh – speaking of which, there is one among the prisoners right now. An evil existence that’s trying to steal people’s trials away from them.

Running away from pain, Amane? Stealing away people's trails for them, Amane? Like choosing to save yourself from being punished again? Like choosing to help a cat?

Not only that but the lyrics of Purge March is this:

The “It can’t be helped”, from the scum who can’t be helped That makes them doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, GUILTY I disavow you, eyes corrupted must be crushed So nary a sound can be uttered a second time, I’ll crush your throat too

This is undeniably a revenge song. This is Amane Momose's Revenge Song. Her fantasies about being able to be the one punishing this time and not having to be in pain again are at full front here. She Wants to hurt her mother.

You are supposed to be Scared of Amane Momose. This is the Expected Audience Reaction.

Shidou is brought up in her VD, both for foreshadowing purposes and to make you Anxious. Amane wants to hurt Shidou, Amane wants to hurt Shidou. A constant reminder of the possible consequences of Letting Her Go Unpunished. If you don't punish her Now she could hurt someone Later.

Once again, we are being put in the position of her abuser. Only this time there really is a few things at stake.

Though I will like to mention, most likely the only reason why Amane was able to kill her mother in the first place is because she had two weapons, the umbrella and the taser.

Something that was brought to my attention by deerlydreaming is that you can actually hear the Buzzing and crackling of the taser throughout Purge March. Most notably it becomes A Constant Part of the Instrumental at the end. That Taser is most likely what Amane used to prevent her mother from escaping her before continuing to murder her. This makes sense because Amane is probably physically weak and twelve years old.

And while Amane Can catch Shidou off-guard. Shidou not only wants to live because he needs to Help People, the rest of the prisoners are aware of her hostile intentions towards him. He is not Safe by any means, and Mahiru is still being threatened, but he is Not In As Much Danger as you might think at first.

And, Notably, characters like Yuno and Fuuta, who are involved in the medicine, are treated patiently by Amane. Even if she's a bit rude or unwilling to talk, Amane is willing to answer their questions and give them advice. This is not Just About the medicine.

I mentioned that Shidou makes Amane feel threatened already, but the anxiety from Mahiru is probably because she and Shidou parallel her parents. I talk about it a bit more over here but the jist is not only does Mahiru have notable lyrical parallels with Amane and similarities in world view (Love = Pain.) Mahiru has also asked Amane about her parents.

20/07/06

Amane: You want to know about my family……? My father is a truly wonderful person. He’s honest, values fairness and justice above all else, and will work himself to the bone for other people’s sake……. Why do you want to know? Mahiru: Oh, I was just wondering what sort of parents you must have for them to have raised such a good child like you. Fufu, I’ll keep it in mind for the future when I raise my own family. Amane: I see. If it will be of use to you, I’ll tell you more. It’s still a long way off for me, but for someone your age the prospect of finding a partner and having a family must be feeling a lot more real. Now that I think about it, I recall my mother was around your age when she gave birth to me……

Mahiru is both around the age her mother gave birth to Amane And thinks of her as a good child and wants to use them as examples for how to raise "good children."

This is why Amane wants her dead but also wants her to be apart of her family, she's less condescending and hurtful so Amane has some positive feelings towards her but she still reminds her of someone that Hurt Her, badly. Muddying it a bit.

My overall point though is, Amane plays into the good victim/bad victim dichotomy. She's a bad victim, a bad kid, not good enough. She's scary and bad and childish. She's not an "ideal" victim.

This connects back into her cat imagery. Where Amane is portrayed as the Cat.

(Purge March Cat having Different Injuries gets to me)

Let's all note that the bow and medal are two consistent parts of her costuming and they are her collar, and that she also has a collar in her prison uniform.

The cat is repeatedly conflated with sin and impurity, both here and in other instances of the cat. There's another cat in Magic and that cat is Collared, implying that cats Need to be collared or else they'll do something "bad" unlike all the other animals who can walk without them.

Cats need to be Restrained and Domesticated.

Or else they will do "sinful actions."

(Don't we all love the dehumanization of the vulnerable? Im personally fond of it, please let her become an actual monster in T3 Milgram Im begging you-)

This isn't the first time Milgram has done this! They did this with both Haruka and Muu!

Haruka is portrayed notably creepier in AKAA than Weakness. While Muu is portrayed so pitiful in After Pain and then In It's Not My Fault...well...

I told you I’m queen, and it’s always the same God gave me everything, everything is as I wish

(Using MV translation for the sake of clarity)

And again, not to say these behaviors aren't destructive, harmful and maladapative. I'd for one say Muu is Very self-destructive in her behavior and shoots good things for herself in the foot. But the point is that these characters Also play with the concept of being a "good victim" and a "bad victim."

And of course, if your not good enough, you will be punished.

Conclusion

I'd say something about voting here but I think its really obvious what I want people to vote Amane as. But more importantly I think its important to consider what narrative the story is trying to tell. What is trying to make you Feel and Why. There is a meta-commentary here about the way society treats vulnerable people. Especially ones who are considered "unappealing." It's...remarkably easier, to punish someone that's been hurt once it's been decided they aren't "good" enough. And I think that's important to consider when voting.