#I’m not even trying to claim it as my own I just think it’s extremely funny and it has altered my brain chemistry

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

[baixueagain]

Couldn’t help but notice this reblog in a certain recent “queer is a slur” discourse post.

Beyond being ahistorical, it is significant in its third paragraph, which is almost entirely made up with TERF and alt right dog whistles. For anyone who has even a basic idea of what to look for, this blogger has just outright shown their hand.

Let’s start from the beginning of the text I’ve marked in blue:

“a pedophilia and incest apologist”

This is a very handy tactic especially prevalent in alt-right rhetoric these days. It stigmatises anything it is attached to, in this case the person who coined the term “queer theory.” Topics like pedophilia and incest are extremely taboo and emotionally laden, and attaching them to a subject will cause many people to automatically distance themselves from that term out of a semi-instinctive desire to not associate themselves with such things. Spread this attachment widely enough, and you can push entire groups into abandoning terminology, praxis, and people.

For the record, I’m not sure of the source for this claim. The woman who coined the term “queer theory” was Teresa de Laurentis, and I’ve never seen anything by her which tries to excuse pedophilia or incest. She certainly wrote about the gendered nature of incest, but this was in no way laudatory. This may also be a reference to the work of Gloria Anzaldua, who helped further popularize the term. She spoke frankly and openly about her sexual fantasies, many of them of a taboo nature, because of her firm belief in de-stigmatizing discussions about human sexual behaviour. Not only are such fantasies extremely common, they are in no way apologetics for real life abuse, nor do they predict real life behaviour.

“a straight woman with a fetish for gay men”

We’ve gotten to the transphobic dogwhistle now. This is an accusation frequently used against trans men and nonbinary AFAB people, especially those who pursue relationships with men. With the current surge in transphobic public rhetoric, it has received a new breath of life, and trans mlm are currently facing a slew of accusations of being straight women/girls who have just fetishized gay men to the point that they’re trying to “become” gay men/boys themselves (CW: link leads to transphobic hate site genderhq.org). These accusations are even being used in queer circles--including by trans people--to gatekeep who “gets” to write fiction about mlm. Just a week ago, for example, queer writer Alex Marraccini accused indie trans mlm author Ana Mardoll of fetishizing mlm, claiming that Ana’s “fetishistic” writing isn’t nearly as groundbreaking or liberating as the work of real cis gay men.

I’m not sure who the blogger is referring to here as there’s no real consensus on who first used the term “queer studies.” However, I think they may be referring to Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, who was most certainly not a straight woman. She was queer and came out as a trans man, though as far as I know continued to publicly prefer she/her pronouns (hence my own pronoun use here).

“use intentionally over academic language”

Ah, good old anti-intellectualism. If I can’t understand you, you must be using over-academic language just to confuse me on purpose. This dogwhistle not only gives people an excuse to dismiss anything they don’t understand straight away, it pushes the conspiracy theory that we academics are part of an ivory tower conspiracy to Queer Everything for...reasons (see below).

“to obfuscate that their founding texts and members are Marxists”

Aaaand here we are, the full show of the hand. This blogger is either alt-right or well down the pipeline to becoming one. The old chestnut that These Academics We Disagree With are all secret Marxists is one that is, you guessed it, strongly tied into antisemitism and Nazi conspiracies that push the belief that Karl Marx, Marxism, and Marxists are part of a global Jewish conspiracy that seeks to destroy the West.

And of course we have one more “incest and pedophilia” whistle to round things off, just to doubly ensure that people understandably disgusted by those things attach them to queer theorists.

Anyway, once again I beg the good people of Tumblr to please pay close attention to TERF rhetoric, where it comes from, how it’s used, and the other movements that it is tied to. I am not being a paranoid conspiracist when I say that “queer is a slur” discoursers and “pedophilia and incest” scaremongers and their ilk (including anti-kink discoursers) are tied to TERF rhetoric, which is itself allied increasingly with the alt right. They are telling you this for themselves. Listen to them when they tell you who they are.

[fandomxpreferences]

Man Eater (18+)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x dark femme female reader (like siren energy)

TW: toxic, manipulation, smut, I think this counts as dub con, oral ( f receiving), I think that’s all but as always read at your own risk

Summary: Rafe can’t help but fall into your trap every single time.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: this is not my best work but I’m dipping my toes back in so please be nice to me

As much as he hates it, there’s something about you Rafe just can’t let go of. You're mysterious and seductive without trying; the most elusive woman he's ever met. You hold all the power, and for some reason, he keeps coming back for more.

Nobody knows what the two of you do behind closed doors. You show up when you feel like it, and every single time Rafe is waiting on his knees for you. Every time you leave he swears he's done, but then you call or show up and you're all he can focus on. You have a hold on him in a way that no one ever has before.

You don't think twice as you walk into the gala at tannyhill wearing a red gown; you smile and greet familiar faces just like usual. You're somehow kind and heartless at the same time, and Rafe has never been able to make sense of it.

He swears his breathing stops altogether when you make your entrance, but he remains stoic as he sips on whiskey. There’s something so powerful in the way you carry yourself; like you either own the place or don’t care who does. It draws him in and he can’t help but be mesmerized by just your presence.

He watches people move out of your way and men nearly break their necks as you float by ethereal and beautiful as ever. You’d think you’re a royal that should have a security team the way you command the room, and Rafe can’t look away.

You know he’s there and you can feel him watching your every move as you slink toward the bar and stop just a few feet away from him. While you may be sweet as sugar to most, Rafe gets to see the opposing side of you.

It's as if you're a siren; so beautiful and innocent one moment and sinister the next. He shifts closer so your shoulders are almost touching, and flags the bartender down with the subtle wag of his finger.

“She’s with me. Pour from our personal collection.” He instructs, and the man nods.

You glance over at him with a smirk and place your clutch on the counter before propping up on your elbows. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, and as if he has been perfectly trained, he orders your usual drink without further instruction.

“Always so eager to please.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your crimson-stained lips, and Rafe watches you with the same predatory gaze he always does.

“Only you.”

The way you stare up at him through thick lashes and winged eyeliner nearly makes him collapse, and he tries to calm the wild beating of his heart. You’re the type of beautiful that’s intimidating; so stunning that even the unshakable Rafe Cameron quakes in your presence.

You take a sip from your glass with a wink before strutting off, and he grins to himself. He knows how lucky he is to have you in any sense, and he also knows that you’re not in a place to be tied down.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from longing for more. He’s certain that you were made for him; and that there aren’t any other men in outer banks truly capable of keeping up with you the way he can.

As strong as he is, even Rafe falls victim to your spell. Anyone else would simply be steamrolled, and he thinks on some level you know that. He knows you two would rule Figure Eight together and be unstoppable, but he’ll accept what you give.

He’s not usually worried about you getting around because even if you aren’t exclusive by any means, you’re extremely selective. You don’t seek attention; that's why you get so much of it. Normally, you don't pay it any mind.

Tonight, however, Rafe clenches his jaw until it aches as you nurse drinks made from his liquor while rubbing another man's arm. He knows he has no claim to you; you’ve made that very clear. He isn’t even sure if you have his name saved in your phone.

Despite having that knowledge, he finds himself slowly maneuvering through the crowd in your direction. You lock eyes with him over the shoulder of the man sitting in front of you, and you quirk your brow just enough for Rafe to notice.

It startles Rafe sometimes; how your eyes sparkle with the same thrill and mischief as his. You’re easily just as crazy as he is and he’s absolutely addicted to the rush of being with you.

“My dad wants to say hello.” Rafe lies, not giving you a chance to speak. He can see the way you’re weighing your options in your mind. He knows there’s a possibility that you tell him to fuck off; despite your arrangement, going home together is not a given.

“Excuse me.” You politely smile, giving one last squeeze before releasing the man's bicep and stepping around him.

Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist instantly, with his hand splayed across your side and onto your stomach as he holds you close to him. You stumble a bit in your heels when he jerks you into him, but don’t show any emotion.

“Bit bold tonight, aren’t we?” You say just loud enough for him to hear, and his fingertips dig further into your flesh.

“Not bolder than wearing a dress with your entire back out and drinking my liquor with another man.” He bites, and you let him lead, not wanting to cause any more of a scene. He doesn’t stop until you’re standing in his room and shuts the door.

He stays facing away from you for a moment, and you tap your shoe impatiently.

“Did you bring me up here just t-“ You’re cut off when Rafe tilts his head back and sighs with annoyance.

“Shut up and listen.” He turns around and you try to cover your shock at his forwardness.

“Are you fucking other guys?”

You open your mouth to answer but he takes a stride forward and grips your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“The truth.”

When you don't speak, he narrows his eyes and takes a step impossibly closer.

“Look me in my eyes. Are we ever going to be more or am I really just a hookup? I need to know.”

You give him a pointed look but he doesn't waver and you roll your eyes.

“Rafe, don't pull at this thread. You know what this is.”

He licks his lower lip and nods before pulling back.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Without skipping a beat, you close the distance he created and run your hands across his chest and onto his broad shoulders.

“I know you like it when I dress up, Rafe. Let's just work it out with our bodies, yeah? Let me ride you and ease your mind.” You purr and with lightning speed, Rafe grabs your throat and spins you around so your back is pressed against the door.

“Don't.” He grits out, but you can see the will starting to crumble in his ocean eyes.

You push against his chest just enough to get his attention, and he keeps his hold on your neck as you slowly move him backward. You both know that this dance always ends the same way, and it infuriates him as much as it turns him on.

He crashes back onto the mattress and you stand between his knees while he peers up at you. If you asked him, Rafe would insist that you’re not real. He swears there’s a glow surrounding you as he finds himself succumbing to you once again.

You reach back and slowly unzip your dress before wiggling your hips dramatically and letting it pool around your feet. You leave the heels on and swing one leg up so you’re half straddling him, and he watches with lust-blown pupils.

As much as he hates this cycle, he loves it just the same. You’ll manipulate him and he’ll let you because that's how much power you have over him.

You slowly crawl up his body, dragging your hands across his twitching muscles until your fingers are laced over his head, and lower your hips until you’re sitting on his bulge.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lips brushing against his throat.

“No.”

You slowly push forward and brush your chest against his face, sitting up when he tries to nip at the skin. You guide his hands against your hips and shift slightly, eliciting a deep groan.

“Show me how to please you.” You whisper, and something in Rafe snaps. He doesn't care about the party downstairs, he doesn't care that he's giving in to you again; all he cares about is claiming you in a way that shows you he’s capable of taking the control back at any second.

Before you can process, he flips you onto your back and rips your panties in half. You gasp with wide eyes, and Rafe slips his hand behind you. You arch your back so he can unhook your bra while his other hand dips into your folds.

He sucks a hickey into the top of your breast while his nimble fingers slip your bra off with ease, and he licks a strip from the dark bruise to the column of your throat. He keeps his head buried there working on the tender flesh while pumping his fingers in and out of your slick.

You buck up when he curls into your g-spot, and he repeats the movement while gasps fall from your lips.

“I know, baby. I got you.”

He presses one last kiss to your collarbone before trailing his lips and nose all the way down your torso. He wastes no time, and you cry out when his lips wrap around your clit. His free hand settles on the inside of your upper thigh, holding it open.

He hits a spot that causes you to pull away from him, and a sharp slap rings out before he wraps his hand around the back of your leg and yanks you back into him. He moves with your body as you writhe around, and continues his brutal pace.

He has you approaching that high in record time and reaches up to lace his fingers with yours as your head flings back while you tremble against him. He carries you through it the entire time, not even flinching when your nails draw blood or when his signet ring digs into his finger.

As soon as your vision clears, you sit up and start ripping at the buttons on his tux. He smirks at how eager you are and watches the way you try to cover it up. Regardless of what he is to you, no man will ever have you the way he has and you know that.

His lips crash against yours while you fiddle with his tie, and he quickly removes his belt and pants before leaning forward until you're flat against the bed. He gently moves your hands away and takes over, taking off the layers of clothing the best he can without breaking the kiss.

The second you feel the heat from his body, your hands roam his exposed flesh. His large hand grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg around his waist, and you nod into him. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps a few times, hissing at the sensation.

He breaks away and presses his forehead to yours before tilting his head down to watch where he presses into you. You both inhale sharply, and you cling to him for dear life as he eases In until his pelvis hits yours.

He rolls his hips, hitting that sweet spot while also brushing against your swollen bundle of nerves. It's a torturously slow pace as he fucks into you deep and slow, and your sweat mingles as your bodies start to fall into a natural rhythm.

You push forward when he pulls back, and he litters bites and licks across your neck. Your sweet moans mix with his deep grunts and occasional whimpers to make a hymn as you worship each other.

“Fuck, you feel too good.” He groans, and you whine into his shoulder.

“You always think you're this little minx that can get whatever she wants. I let you because I want you to be happy. Sometimes you just have to be reminded that you’re not the apex predator you think you are. Not with me.”

His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes lightly, and you grin at the feeling. You can say whatever you want, but Rafe knows you would never let another man have this level of control let alone smile at it. It's those little things that keep a spark of hope alive; moments where he sees you want him as much as he wants you.

He forces your mouth apart with his tongue before devouring you like a man starved. Your skin burns hot as the two of you tangle in the sheets, too lost in each other to care about anything else.

You leverage your weight and flip over, slipping back onto his pulsing cock before he can protest. His head falls back with a strangled groan as he reaches a new depth, and his hands instantly settle on your waist.

You rock back and forth a few times, testing the water before settling in. You note every little gasp and nose scrunch, making sure to make those movements again.

His fingertips dig into the flesh on your hips as he guides you and you watch him through hooded eyes as he attempts to maintain some semblance of composure.

The two of you writhe in unison as you chase your highs, beads of sweat glistening like diamonds as they trickle down your bodies and mingle together.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Rafe is barely within his right mind, but the statement still sends a paralyzing shiver down your spine. For the first time, you feel a tinge of remorse and it causes your movements to stutter.

You recover quickly and continue until you feel him twitch and ride him through his high. Your mind is racing at light speed as you quickly climb off and start dressing, eager to get away.

Suddenly the room feels suffocating as Rafe’s cologne engulfs your senses and you keep your eyes cast downward. You don’t want to see the lacrosse trophies or the framed family photos; reminders that outside of your arrangement, Rafe is a real person with a real life.

“Whoah hold up, slow down.”

Rafe’s voice is laced with confusion as he comes back down and notices you all but sprinting around the room.

His large hands wrap around your biceps in an attempt to stop you, and your heart lurches when you spare a glance at his cerulean eyes.

“You’re not staying?”

Admittedly, you’ve gotten a smidge too comfortable and it’s become somewhat of a routine for you to stay over and leave when the sun comes up.

When you don’t answer and instead try to side step him, his brow furrows and he matches your movement so you’re blocked. His hand comes up to pinch your chin between this thumb and forefinger, and you try to ignore the way your skin tingles.

“Look at me. What’s going on?”

It occurs to you that he isn’t aware of what he said, and you swallow before taking a deep breath and holding your head high.

“I think you’re right. We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

His hand drops in shock, and before he can react you slink around him and race downstairs straight out the door.

Rafe stands in place for a second trying to process what just happened. He yanks on some sweatpants and goes bounding after you, but by the time he makes it outside, you’re already gone.

He runs his hand over his head before taking off back toward his room. He ignores the odd looks he receives from Gala guests roaming the property and continues on his mission until he’s back upstairs holding his phone.

It’s muscle memory at this point, finding you in his favorites comes with ease and it only takes a second for his thumb to press the number that he’s committed to heart.

His heart thumps in his chest as it rings once, then twice.

The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.

He hangs up and calls back three more times only to receive the same dreaded message each time before he lobs his phone across the room and looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

[a-very-tired-jew]

Finally got an anti-Zionist definition of Zionism

An Israeli was brave enough to pop into the Dropout Discord’s Palestine channel today (May 5th, 2024) and ask what definition of Zionism they were using. While most people all had the same base of “Jews having their own state in their homeland” every single one of them goes off the rails with their own respective definition and conspiracy.

The first person said this:

Fig. 1. First person responding to the Israeli gives their definition of Zionism.

Notice that they say Zionism is the idea that Israel is uniquely and solely the rightful homeland of the Jews. This implies that there’s a malicious intent in Zionism towards non-Jews within Israel. This person has likely never heard of Kahanism, but in their mind Zionism and Kahanism are likely the same.

Here’s the second person to respond:

Fig. 2. Second response uses refers to anti-Zionist. Jews and their supposed definition.

Now, I know a bunch of anti-Zionist Jewish groups and people and I have never heard this particular definition. I’ve only heard this from extreme antisemites who hide behind the guise of being anti-Zionist progressives and actual terrorist groups trying to create a false antisemitic conspiracy narrative. However, this is my own personal experience and this could be the case, as the user says this is what is said in their circles. And if it’s true then it’s a conspiracy driven alt reality version of things as it denies all evidence to the contrary. There are whole levels to this that ignore the non-Jewish Israelis, the rights that they have in Israel, their representation in the government, and so on.

and the third person to respond is someone I’ve talked about before. This is the Jew who claims they were indoctrinated and all their elders are brainwashed and just need to “open their eyes to the truth.”

Fig. 3. Third response from a user who expands on Fig. 1. User’s definition and adds their own conspiracy.

I want to point out that this token Jew who believes others are indoctrinated actively believes the Israeli is making it so only Jews can be citizens. This is not any policy I can find, nor is it something I’ve seen even talked about outside of the most extremist elements. I think they’re referencing the 2018 stuff about Jews having the right to self determination, setting Hebrew as the National language, and government endorsement of settlers. But that’s far from the Israeli government and Zionism stating that Israel is for Jews and only Jews, and active programs to remove non-Jews. It’s something that, once again, would only come from antisemitic groups who want to generate strife through a particular narrative.

These are the definitions that they’re working with and/or believe. It’s no wonder you can’t actually talk to these activists because these definitions are laced with rhetoric from terrorist groups and antisemites. There’s traces of Jewish supremacy, world control, and other tropes throughout, and what’s sad is that a self confessed Jewish person believes it. Not only do they believe it, they’ve been extremely vocal in the server about it. They have so much to unpack that I can’t imagine what brought them to this level of conspiratorial thinking regarding Jews and Zionism.

It takes a lot of work to get people to see their conspiracy theories for what they are and that they’ve been misled. It’s easier to fall into them than to crawl out of that hole and realize you’ve been radicalized. That takes time, self reflection, and often a big “oh shit” moment, which may or may never happen.

At this point I’m just documenting how radicalized the people in the Dropout TV Discord are and how many of them believe in antisemitic conspiracies and downright falsities. Maybe they’ll do something about it one day, but I doubt it.

[fanfic-inator795]

Spoilers for Puss in Boots: Last Wish (specifically Perrito) below

My bff and I were talking about this last night, but I figured I’d write it all out here: one thing I really do appreciate about Perrito is that while other characters may see him as naive and innocent, the film never treats him as overly naive or foolish.

The best example of this is when he’s explaining his backstory. It would have been SO easy to have him be still searching for his family/litter mates, believing firmly that they still wanted him/were still playing ‘hide and seek’. If they’d done this, then Perrito really would have been an extremely naive character (as well as all the more unnecessarily tragic). It also would have been easy to have this be Perrito’s wish, as well as the lesson that he needed to learn - that he doesn’t need his former (and incredibly crappy) fam, and that he can/should move on from his tragic backstory, letting himself be with his new friends instead.

But the film doesn’t go this route... Because Perrito has already realized and internalized this lesson.

Think about it. For as much as he may seemingly still see the whole ‘swim in the river’ incident as an extra challenge to a game of Hide ‘n Seek, outside of the “Guess I’m still It!” joke, Perrito doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never saw his family again. Just as he never dwells on nearly drowning. He only brings up his past when others ask him about it, otherwise he’s only focus on the present - which is why he’s so satisfied with things to the point of not needing a wish.

When it comes to his backstory, he instead just sees the brighter side of things regarding it (getting a new ‘sweater’ that he was able to grow into) and focuses on moving forward and meeting new friends, instead of going on an endless search for those who left him behind. Even while he’s at Mama Luna’s, he still tries to socialize with the other cats - though he backs off when they hiss at them, still understanding that he isn’t exactly well-liked there.

What’s more, it’s made VERY clear that Perrito’s tendency to trust in people without hesitation is not out of naivete: it is out of choice. He knows that people can be cruel (we see him briefly get scared of Jack Horner and the Bears when he gets kidnapped, even if he ends up making friends with the latter) and he knows that he can’t exactly fight back against that, being such a tiny dog. But he’d still rather give people a chance instead of just hiding away from the world. He never tries to claim that every person has some good in them or anything like that, he simply states “well, you have to trust somebody”.

What really drives this point home - aside from the excellent advice that Perrito gives throughout the film, showing just how thoughtful and wise he is, even when he seems totally clueless in other moments - is his moment in the film’s climax with Jack, where he’s finally able to do the cutesy eyes. The joke is how Jack is ‘dead inside’ and would never fall for such a ploy, and how Perrito is (or rather, would be) dumb for thinking that simply being cute would stop this heartless bastard.

But the twist is that Perrito already knows this. There isn’t a moment where it’s shown that he thinks this act will work. No, Perrito meant it as a distraction the entire time - he wanted to try and help, and he trusted his friends to catch on and take the shot once the distraction worked. And I freaking LOVE THAT! I love that Perrito is so much more than just ‘diet Donkey’ or ‘innocent and naive dog that doesn’t know how the real world works’.

He knows how it works, he just chooses to still see the bright side in things in order to improve others’ lives as well as his own, because there’s a difference between naively trusting people who haven’t proven themselves and just giving people a genuine chance to be your ally/friend. And I’m just so happy that Dreamworks not only made a character like this but just did a fantastic job writing him.

[thebadgerclan]

Salvation

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You are his salvation...

A/N: This is based on the scene from Queen Charlotte where she finds out what the doctors have been doing to George (episode 5 I think?)

The demon was back.  After months of peace, of Nikolai’s mind being entirely his own, it was back.  The King had flown from his window three weeks ago, and since then, your contact with him had been limited.  It was a protocol that your husband had drawn up after his last battle with the demon, a contingency plan that he prayed he’d never have to enact.  But prayers weren’t always answered.

You now slept in separate chambers, your husband had returned to being chained to his bed and sedated.  Even during the day, a time that had been proven safe from the demon, Nikolai was distant, subdued.  You’d overheard him discussing it with one of his advisers: “Her Majesty is worried, moi tsar.”  “I cannot risk her,” your husband had responded.  “She is far too important.”

What little you saw of your husband broke your heart.  He looked exhausted, and you might have been able to chalk it up to the stress of the situation, had it not been for one minuscule, almost imperceptible detail.  Nikolai had brought in physicians from all over Ravka in hopes of finding a cure, and one, Doctor Laisia Orlov from Tsibeya, had some interesting theories.  At this point, Nikolai was willing to try anything to expel the demon from him, so he allowed Doctor Orlov to set up rooms in the Palace to do her work.

It was nearly a month and a half into your husbands treatment that you noticed it.  Nikolai had been meeting with his council when the Doctor entered, and when she walked near the King, he flinched.  You didn’t claim to be a medical professional, but you knew that a patient shouldn’t flinch when their doctor walked past.  From then, you noticed that Nikolai would mumble to himself, his hands would shake, his head would twitch.  Something was amiss, and it had something to do with Doctor Orlov.

It was two weeks after that that you got a feeling deep in your gut that something was wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply, horribly wrong.  You pushed aside the papers you’d been going over and tracked down Nikolai’s valet.  He was flanked by four guards, which was extremely unusual, but they bowed when you approached.  “My Queen,” Akim, your husband’s valet, greeted.  “How may I assist you?”

“Akim, where is my husband?”  Before he could answer, one of the guards interjected.  “He is occupied, moya tsaritsa,” he said, which only raised your suspicion.  “Forgive me, but my question was not directed at you.  Akim, where is Nikolai?”  The valet shifted, and you pushed on.  “I will not ask again, Akim.”  “He is–” he cleared his throat.  “He is receiving treatment.  With Doctor Orlov.”

Again, your suspicion rose, but you forced yourself to remain calm.  “Well then, I should like to observe her work.  She is employing some revolutionary methods, is she not?”  “You do not wish to see that, Your Majesty,” said another guard, and your expression hardened.  “I am the Queen,” you said.  “You do not presume to tell me what I would and would not like to see.  Now, where are the Doctor’s rooms located?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first guard said.  “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”  You drew yourself up to your full height, and while this guard was taller than you, he cowered a bit.  “I am not asking,” you said, voice icy.  “Now, tell me where my husband is, or I will have you charged with treason.”  “This way, Your Majesty,” Akim said suddenly, and you hurried to follow him.

The King’s valet led you into the kitchens and the storage cellar below, your concern growing with every step.  Then you heard it: screaming.  Nikolai, screaming.  You hiked up your skirts and ran down the corridor, panic bubbling in you.  When you came to a door, you slammed it open, the sight behind it igniting rage and horror in you.  Your husband was tied to a chair, a gag between his teeth, a red hot poker pressed to his chest.

“What is this?” you demanded, and Doctor Orlov paused.  “Untie the King.”  Akim and the four guards had trailed you, but all stood frozen.  “Untie the King!  I command you!”  “Queen Y/N, you cannot–”  “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” you snapped, composure completely slipping.  “I will have you hanged for this, do you understand me?  Torturing your King?”

“It is not torture, Majesty, it is medicine!” Doctor Orlov argued.  “You cannot have me hanged for practicing medicine.”  “I am your Queen!” you screamed, moving to stand nose-to-nose with the Doctor.  “If I wish for you to be hanged, then you will be hanged.  If I wish for you to be drawn and quartered, then you shall be.  If I wish for you to rot in a cell for the rest of your pathetic life, then you shall!  Get her out of my sight!”

The guards snapped to attention and dragged the Doctor out, and you turned your attention to your husband, who was being supported by Akim.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you breathed, and he fell into your arms, clutching your gown.  He was trembling, mumbling to himself.  “My love, what have they done to you?”  “Y-Y-Y/N?” he managed, and you nodded, cupping his cheek.  “Yes, darling, it’s Y/N.  Y/N’s here, I’m here.  It’s me, sweetheart.”

You felt him relax in your arms, and he let out a shuddering breath.  “Akim,” you called.  “Have the guards clear the halls and get a Healer to our rooms.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet said, hurrying from the room.  “It didn’t like her,” Nikolai mumbled, and you stroked his hair.  “What was that, my love?”  “It didn’t like her.  The demon.”  You were about to ask what he meant by that, but Akim re-entered.  “The halls are clear, Majesty.”

The two of you helped Nikolai to walk back to your rooms, and you changed him into his nightclothes, tucking him into bed.  The Healer arrived soon after, examining the King and healing the burns, rope marks, and leech bites.  “He’ll need rest,” she instructed.  “And he needs you.  After what he endured…”  “Of course,” you replied, thanking the Healer and dismissing her.

Nikolai was dozing, and you climbed into bed at his side, pulling him into your arms.  Already he seemed better, his face calm and relaxed, his tremor gone, no longer mumbling.  “Nikolai, darling?”  “Hmm?”  “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it didn’t like her’?”  Your husband shifted in your arms so he could look at you.  “The demon didn’t like Orlov,” he explained.

“When she was around, it came to the forefront of my mind, it tried to get out.  And when she was…treating me, it would fight like mad to get free.  But when you came in there…when you held me, it went away.”  “Went away?”  “Mhmm,” your husband replied.  “When she was there, I had to fight to keep it at bay, but with you, it’s gone.  I don’t feel it at all.”  “Nikolai,” you said suddenly, clarity coming over you.  “Do you remember the night the demon came back?  When was it?”

The King thought for a moment before answering.  “I think it was the 8th, why?”  Suddenly, it all made sense.  “I was staying with my mother in Balakirev then,” you said.  “And that was the first night we’d spent apart since–”  “Since after the war,” Nikolai finished for you.  “Since I was infected with the demon.”  It all made perfect sense now: it wasn’t chance that the demon re-appeared, it happened in your absence.  

Now that he thought about it, more and more pieces clicked into place.  He’d felt the demon clawing at his mind before, when he was anxious or stressed, but when you were near, it released its clutches and left him in peace.  The Darkling had given him this curse, but the Darkling had never known love, never known the solace of another’s arms.  But Nikolai did, and it was that love, that solace that was his cure.  Not medicine, not science, not any religious ritual, it was you.  It had always been you.

“Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “You saved me.”  “I’ll have that mad woman hanged for what she did to you, I’ll–”  “Darling,” your husband said, smiling softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly.  “As attractive as it is to hear you threaten someone on my behalf, that’s not what I mean.”  You heard a hint of his usual wit and banter slip back into his tone, and you knew that your husband was back.

“You are what keeps the demon at bay, my love,” Nikolai continued.  “When I feel it coming on, trying to get out, all I have to do is look at you, and it vanishes.  I have never felt its claws when I’m with you, when you’re in my arms.  Y/N Lantsov, you are my salvation, my solace, and my greatest love.”  Tears, happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you pressed your lips to his.

“If you’re making flowery declarations, then you must be feeling better,” you joked, but Nikolai was deadly serious.  “I’m not joking, Y/N.  The two months we were apart were the worst of my life. I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, I was a shell of myself.  But an hour in your arms and I’m a new man.  You are my savior, Y/N.”  “Nikolai, I–”  “No, my love, you are.  My Queen, my salvation.”

You smiled, kissing him again.  “I love you so much, Nikolai,” you whispered, pulling him closer.  “I love you, I love you, I love you.  Saints, I’ve missed you.”  Nikolai nuzzled his face into your chest, happy to be held in your embrace.  “I love you too, my darling Y/N.  And I missed you far more than I could ever say.”  That Doctor would pay for what she’d done, but for now, you had your Nikolai, and he had his salvation.  His Y/N, his wife, his Queen, his love.

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on one hand i know why like in online autistic space, people are really against assuming support needs online. because sure what put online is only a fraction of experience. some only want post positive things. and other people mask difficulties so appear better off than actually are, etc. know all that!

but issue comes when… there is consistent pattern of a specific type of lower support needs (LSN) autistic generalizing their LSN experience, pathologize every little experience as autism, spread misinfo, use aspie supremacist rhetoric,

erase higher support needs (HrSN) autistic experience, speaking over us, perpetuate extremely harmful ableism against us, do not reflect own privilege, pose self as most oppressed,

and misusing support needs label

and it’s important to note that it’s mostly being done by (a specific group of) lower support needs autistic. because they have more communication abilities, more self advocacy abilities or more able to learn self advocate, more independence, more closer to the mythical “neurotypicality” ideal, more able to mask, etc etc… loudest, most majority, most listened to.

“how dare you assume my support needs when you don’t know me” has been conveniently used as a shield to free them of responsibility. “if conveniently don’t mention that have lower support needs, or have level 1 autism, then they can’t criticize me of perpetuating aspie supremacy can’t criticize me of not reflecting on my LSN advantage, and i can become the victim and escape accountability.”

and. another layer of issue is. some of them genuinely think they high support needs or have substantial support needs because they need support and don’t have needs met. when they’re… not.

i have been putting off addressing this topic because i don’t want a slippery slope to fake claiming, or give off “i know you more than you” because i don’t.

but. i know the autism spectrum more than them. i know the support needs spectrum and autism levels more than you. and maybe even most important, i know what i don’t know about these topics more than you.

yes, HrSN autistics can achieve great things, as much or maybe even more than LSN and nonautistic nondisabled people.

yes, some HrSN autistics can speak relatively fluidly. some HrSN autistics may be able to mask. some HrSN autistic may be not as visible HrSN/autistic every single second of day—less likely, but who am i to generalize?

BUT. and i have addressed this over and over and over again in my posts. being HrSN is not just about needing help with “eating” (and by eating they mean cooking and not actually feeding), reminder to shower, budgeting, getting groceries, some of the time. being level 2/3 is not just about other people think you “weird” sometimes, or meltdown once in a while (like weeks apart).

overwhelmingly more HrSN autistics struggle with masking or unable to mask at all, with most or all communication, living independently is often not even an option to consider for us, can’t hold job (mayybe unless very specific employment support), visibly autistic, visibly disabled.—as in, you can tell. strangers can tell.

for many of us, there is no reasonable deniability, there’s no benefit of the doubt, there’s no hiding.

for many of us, we are concerned and focusing on basic living skills.

and i’m trying to be generous here. i’m trying to give these people & behavior i’m critiquing the benefit of the doubt. there are harsher things i want to say that im holding off right now.

not saying there’s nothing wrong with assuming support needs. not saying we should all start random assign internet people support needs labels.

but there is nuance. some people don’t like that nuance tho because it not in their favor and they can’t play victim anymore

[raisedbythetv89]

To me, I don’t think Buffy or the audience can ever truly know if she’s in love with angel or just in attachment with him. I believe she is just in attachment and especially before innocence and after his encounter with the first, just full on enmeshment with him. No boundaries whatsoever, his pain is her pain (which is extremely common in parentified children who feel they have to protect their parents from their pain like what buffy does with joyce), just like how she describes her feelings towards riley later which is NOT a good thing, empathy is good, taking on others pain as if it’s your own is extremely unhealthy. (Yes I’m pulling on my psych degree for a tumblr post, human behavior and buffy are two of my special interests)

What I mean by “in attachment” is that she has all of the same anxieties and insecurities about angel that she does with her father. Angel’s erratic and unpredictable behavior plays on her anxious avoidant attachment style SO AGGRESSIVELY. He keeps showing up, giving her little information at all and even less about himself and then vanishing leaving her hanging, and anxiously wondering about him which can mimic thinking you’re romantically interested when really it’s just an unresolved problem you desperately want to solve. She has a lot of valid criticisms about him before they’re officially together about his inconsistencies, him treating her like a child, him being too old for her and then all of a sudden she’s saying she wants to die when they kiss and that she loves him (after he forces her to say she loves him before he’ll tell the truth about drusilla). That is exactly how falling into attachment goes. Once you’re hooked all your feelings that are caused by a bad relationship with a parent are projected onto the partner who you are unknowingly recreating that dynamic with which is why such intense and strong feelings can happen so quickly and suddenly you’re ignoring all concerns you had before forming this attachment with someone.

He’s not her soulmate, he’s just the first guy to treat her like her father did and if you don’t address that cycle the relationship is recreating it can be impossible to move on because they will ALWAYS feel like something is unresolved and if you don’t know why you feel that way you can misinterpret it as true love or destiny because why all would you suffer so much and still love them if it wasn’t? It’s a mistake SO MANY of us make in our romantic relationships and these portrayals of unhealthy attachments being sold to us a soul mates doesn’t help us at all.

She does it with Riley also but she walls herself off so she doesn’t get AS attached to him as she did angel but their relationship is still her trying to fix the relationship with her father by changing herself so maybe this time he’ll stay. It’s why his opinion still matters so much to her when he comes back in season 6 despite him being a truly awful person to her who has done nothing but make mistakes and whose opinion should not matter to her at all after everything he put her through. He is another pseudo father figure she craves approval from.

It’s why I love her relationship with Spike so much despite all the bad they go through before season 7. We know her feelings are real because Spike doesn’t play on her anxious-avoidant attachment at all because he is ALWAYS there even when she’s mean and claims she doesn’t want him there. And to me everything they do to each other makes perfect sense, their relationship is exactly what two people with severe trauma and one with anxious-avoidant and one with just anxious-attachment going into a relationship together looks like. You hurt each other A LOT because you’re working out all your issues with each other and they don’t have ANY help from a therapist or someone who can help minimize the hurt so they both just use their worst coping mechanisms and the fact that they go through all that and still get to be together and happy and healthy on the other side is just everything to me because that so rarely happens in the real world, where you get to be with the person who was also a catalyst for healing and having to go through all that suffering together only to have to start over -hopefully from a much better place - but still with someone else BLOWS. So Spike and Buffy to me are about hope and healing (including the unpleasant and very ugly, dark parts of healing people rarely talk about) and getting to do each phase of that with someone AND enjoy being happy and whole together is just UGHHHH I love it so much.

[byizoyas]

Heya! I hope your having a good day/night!!

I saw your requests were open and I was hoping to request a fic with either alhaitham, childe or beidou with their workout! I’m just so in love with the three of them and if I ever saw them working out I think I’d pass out on the spot (//∇//)

Thank you so much and I hope this is an enjoyable request for you to write 💗💗💗

genshin impact ; requests

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much

✘ sfw. you witness his workout sessions ✘ alhaitham x gn!reader

a/n. - at first i rlly wanted to write all three of them but in the end i was so invested in alhaitham’s i figured id just post that short drabble w only him. i also took some freedom with the end lol; hope it’ll suit you and sorry for the late writing<3 (also i don’t have the exact vocabulary for working out so I did my best and hope it’ll still be understandable ckwkdj)

you’ve been going at the gym for a while now. you were not the most regular person in this but you were trying real hard.

and at this point, you felt new every single time you stepped inside and saw them all greeting each other and training together while you, were all alone.

you only just understood how the treadmill was working after struggling for a while with all the buttons when you heard a friendly voice from behind you.

‘you’re back.’ he said calmly.

you turned around quite surprised that anyone would recognize you since you weren’t coming in here everyday and certainly not on the same time of the day.

‘um yeah’ you only said before realizing the man talking to you was one of the coaches in here.

alhaitham. his name was written on a small piece of paper sticked to his shirt that quite felt too tight for that muscular torso of his.

‘i saw you struggling with the machine and thought i could help you but it seems you got it now.’ he said, turning his back on you to go back to whatever business he probably had to deal with.

‘thanks ! i’ll ask for help directly next time.’ you added, waving goodbye despite him not going really far.

the room wasn’t the biggest so he was still in your eyesight. and as time passed you caught yourself looking in his direction several times.

he was indeed pretty attractive even when he was just standing nearby the door, organizing some files.

10pm the clock was displaying. the gym was closing around 11 pm but it was pretty rare to find people exercising that late at night.

perhaps he felt comfortable enough with so few people working out because he left the counter and put on his own headphones as he walked towards the rowing machine. and of course, it had to be right in front of you so you found it even harder to look away.

alhaitham was a professional, he probably trained everyday and was used to such basic exercises yet you, found it extremely fascinating how easy it was for him to drag the handle.

his arms muscles contracting now and then pretty quickly and the few sighs he subconsciously let out as he kept on pulling the handle towards him, working out both his legs and arms made the whole scene much more attractive.

you found it quite hard to focus on something else now but he quickly switched to another exercise, laying on the floor ready to do a few push ups.

one. two. three. you started to count them. he wasn’t fast but he was certainly feeling his own efforts as he gritted his teeth.

‘alhaitham. i’m leaving. you’re closing alone tonight. will it be okay ?’ someone asked; most likely his colleague that was already wearing casual clothes.

alhaitham got up, and took off his headphones. ‘sure. see you tomorrow.’ the man left and with that he took a glance at the clock and then at you.

he chuckled while walking towards you and only at the moment he stood in front of you, did you realize how you were the only one left in here. ‘staying pretty late tonight do you ?’ he gulped just as he was trying to regain his composure and control over his breathing.

‘i didn’t realize how late it was.’ you only found to say. of course you weren’t going to admit that you lost yourself while observing his every move for about 15 minutes.

little did you know, he noticed your insistent gaze but he did not say anything about it. he turned off the machine you were using. ‘well we’re both done for today.’

you headed towards the restroom to change to your clothes and put your sports pants on your bag.

‘oh!’ you shouted when bumping into alhaitham again right after coming out of the room. ‘you scared the shit out of me sorry for screaming’ you chuckled to yourself, finding yourself so silly.

but since there were only the two of you now alhaitham only apologized, stating how he should have been careful.

you both went towards the door, turning off all the lights behind you.

alhaitham closed the door and turned to you, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘will you come working out tomorrow ?’

you smiled before admitting how you were not so fond of working out. and before you gave a second thought to what you were about to say, it simply slipped out of your mouth.

‘but maybe if a pretty, good coach helps me i’ll like it more.’

right as you started to cringe at your own comment, alhaitham let out the most beautiful laugh you’ve ever heard.

‘i’ll work harder to convince you to drop by more often then.’

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.1k

TW: Mentions of past trauma and the episode Revelations, mentions of drug use, emotional exhaustion, blood, vomit, drinking, People hunting People, injury, swearing

A/N: idk why but this one was so difficult to write, but that means a part 3 so I can resolve the issues in the way I want to, and not be pissed with the middle bits. Also it's literaLLY been over a week, so sorry for the lack of Spencer content. I just completed my last first week of college so that was crazy.

Part 1

There was something that Spencer was not telling you. After an extremely emotional reunion that involved tears, and a hug that lasted for over two consecutive minutes, Spencer apologized to you. He said he was sorry. Now what for, you couldn’t possibly imagine then. But now? 

You were given seven days of paid recovery to help Spencer cope with the traumas he had endured. Spencer was given as much time as he needed. You managed to fuck around with the schedule, so that way you only worked Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for three weeks, giving you ample time to spend with Spencer, while also providing him with space of his own to cope. He was an independent creature, so him needing a day to recover on his own made sense to you. But when he told you he was ready to come back to the BAU, you hesitated. 

You’re not stupid. Your PhD alone could counter that fact. But the profiling skills you had sharpened over the past two years were certainly a help. But you didn’t need to profile Doctor Spencer Reid in order to tell him that going back this soon was not the best idea. 

And he argued with you—yelled at you. The two of you had spats, and a couple arguments here and there, but nothing like this. He claimed you didn’t know him; that you didn’t have his best interests at heart. 

“It’s like you only care about what’s good for me and bad for me whenever it’s convenient for you.” 

Your jaw had dropped. You wanted to cry, but you were more so offended at the fact that Spencer had the audacity to claim you put yourself first. But you knew that wasn’t your Spencer, he was coping with trauma, and you were trying to care for him, support him.

“Spencer. You need to take more time and reall–”

“I’m done listening to someone who didn’t even show up to save me from digging my own fucking grave.” 

You ended up working that Thursday, going back to full time, leaving him to his own devices. Was it a little selfish of you to not speak to him and leave him to his own devices while he was coping with unspeakable traumas? Sure. But when Spencer spat that at you, pettiness took over, deciding that clearly he didn’t want to speak to you, so you wouldn’t.

When he came back, it was wrong. Something was wrong. Spencer was despondent, distant, not actually talking to you for days on end unless he had to. He would snap at people, specifically Emily and you. He would disappear for a couple of minutes at a time, appearing moments later when someone asked where he was. 

Which brought you to your conclusion, Spencer was hiding something from you. You knew, okay well you didn’t know per se, but you assumed he wasn’t cheating on you—you hoped he wasn’t cheating on you. You couldn’t blame him if he was, I mean seeking comfort when he needed it, and clearly whatever you were doing was just not enough. But you were hoping that he wasn’t sleeping around. The alternatives weren’t better, providing you with absolutely no comfort.

Your hypothesis led you to Hotch’s office. You knocked on the door, pushing the door in slightly, since it was already opened. You closed the door behind you once Hotch had given you the okay, the head nod of approval. 

He motioned for you to sit down in the chair across from him, which you did. Hotch always let you speak first, knowing you didn’t need the go ahead. It was something you appreciated about him. One day you would have to tell him how much you appreciated it. 

“I think Spencer is using.” It was blunt. It was emotionless. Not exactly what Hotch was expecting from you, especially since he watched as you held a broken Spencer in your arms right after they brought him to you covered in dirt, limping, injured, but alive. 

He nodded, and picked up his phone, calling Gideon into his office. Hotch had his own theories, his own thoughts on the matter, and so did Gideon. 

Once Gideon had sat on the arm of the chair next to you, you continued. 

“You don’t need me to tell a room full of profilers that clearly something is wrong with him. He’s despondent, he’s had moments where he’s an extreme aggressor, he’s been losing weight, he has the lines around his eyes—do I need to go on or did I just confirm your theories?” 

Gideon and Hotch looked at one another before Hotch spoke. “We were hoping you’d actually say he was just coping poorly, not with drugs.” 

You sighed and shook your head. “Hotch, I‘ve been at Emily’s the past couple of nights since we….had an argument.” Causing you to scoff and fiddle with the necklace along your neck. “But he’s definitely using, probably dilaudid since that’s probably what Tobias was using to subdue him.” 

“Have you confronted him about it?” 

“Have you?” You shot back a little meaner than you meant, but the sentiment still stood. 

“Well, what do we want to do about it?”  Gideon looked between the three of you, and before someone could come up with an answer, JJ had knocked on the door. “We have a cas—oh! Sorry. Sorry. We um. We have a case.” 

“We’ll be there in a moment. Thank you JJ.” Hotch nodded at her, as she exited, closing the door behind her. “We’ll discuss this later.” 

You nodded and stood up, exiting the office. You felt the eyes of the bullpen on you. But you just walked towards the round room, not a word to anyone. Your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was looking directly at you, brow creased, worry lines on full display. You eyed him up and down, a subtle challenge on your part, but nothing else as you left the room. 

“Pretty boy’s in trouble…” Derek smirked slightly, nudging Reid with his shoulder. But Reid just shot him a look before getting up and walking towards where you were. 

None of them had really seen you act like this. Something was wrong, and everyone knew it. You hadn’t had flowers on your desk for almost a week, there was no humming from your lips, and you were out the door right as the clock hit 5, not saying your usual goodbyes. 

Right as Spencer sat down in his usual seat, he went to speak, your name on his lips, everyone else entered. Another case, another excuse for you to not talk directly to him for the next thirty minutes. 

People were hunting people.

You, like most other public school kids in America, had read Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game, leaving you scared and questioning the real morals of humanity, only slightly boosting your own ego thinking of all the ways you could survive. Most kids had not taken the short story as an instruction manual, but apparently these two brothers did. 

The past few days apart have taken a toll on Spencer. He didn’t mean to push you away, except that he did, and the more guilty he had felt about it, the worse he felt. You were kind, and brilliant, and so caring, and pushing you away was the easiest answer. He didn’t mean to say that to you. He knew why you were told to stay back at the house, knowing you could have lost your job–but he wondered why you didn’t fight for him, he would’ve fought tooth and nail to be the first one to get to you, so why didn’t you?

But when you volunteered first to go into the woods where you could get shot through the heart with an arrow instead of checking the boy’s family home, he knew he was fucked, and some sick and twisted part of him thought he deserved it. 

You were just sick and tired of not being treated properly. You missed him, you really did. But if he was going to keep acting like this, if he was going to keep using, then he needed to make the executive decision about you both. It fucking killed you, but god damn if you weren’t the stubborn type. Spencer was just not used to being on the receiving end of it. 

When Spencer had heard that both of the brothers had been killed, he was relieved, regardless of the trail of bodies left behind, because you were still okay. Even if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, you deserved better.

Hotch had followed your wishes, and gave you a separate hotel room, letting the team know that this really was a breaking point for you. When the whole team, sans you, returned to the police station, his blood pressure rose and it took everything in his power to remain calm, only being able to focus once Hotch had mentioned you wanted to go shower and change your clothes—you had received the heavy end of blood on your clothes, graciously donated by the eldest of the two brothers. 

Reid nodded, excusing himself. What if you were hurt and you didn’t even tell him, or anyone for that matter. What if you were just bleeding out on the floor of your shower, in a hotel room, all alone? The spiraling didn’t stop until he found himself at your hotel room door, unable to knock.

You had quickly made your way back to your hotel room, not wanting to deal with the attention you might have received for the gash in your arm. The blood blended nicely with the rest of the blood that had seeped into your once blue shirt, so no one was any wiser. The shower you had taken had helped a little bit, but now you had a major cut down the side of your inner arm, and bandaging it was good enough, for now. 

The bed was not comfortable enough for your liking, but it was good enough to lay on and stare at the ceiling, questioning all of the choices you had made up until this moment. Ignoring the pain in your arm, you just laid there. 

You were exhausted. Your relationship was exhausting. Your whole life was exhausting, and honestly, it would just be better if you took a moment to fall asleep and then just never wake up. 

But life had other plans. 

Spencer finally knocked on your door.  

You knew it was Spencer by the way he knocked. Short, quick, but in the same pattern he always had. 

“It’s unlocked.” You yelled, not moving to stand up from your location on the bed. It was unlocked because you wanted him knew he would show up. An aerial view might have rivaled Fuseli’s Nightmare, but instead of the luscious red drapes and printed silks, you were in a mediocre hotel room bed. The damp hair, the wounded arm, the distressed sheets framing your carelessly tossed body–it was the definition of a modern renaissance painting. 

Spencer slowly came into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“Spencer. What can I help you with?” You didn’t even look over at him, voice flat. 

“You didn’t come back to the station s-so I wanted to c-check in on you…”

“I’m fine.”

“Your arm–”

“--Is fine.” Your voice was sharp, cutting him off. 

“Are you–’

“Sure? Yes.”

“You haven’t been home in a couple of days…”

You scoffed as he said the word home. You knew he was standing near the edge of the bed, willing you to look at him. You felt him standing there, you heard the desperation in his voice. 

“What did I say?” 

“Spencer. I’d really rather not dance around whatever it is that’s been going on with you because I’d hope that you’d love me more than that, and if not, then at least you would have respected me enough.” You went to sit up, but winced as you put pressure on your arm. You should be glaring at him, and your face was definitely communicating that, but your eyes were soft and caring, like they always had been. You could never hate him, but you definitely required an apology for his previous behavior. 

He sighed and rubbed the palms of his hands in his eyes. “It’s complicated y/n.” 

“Enlighten me then.” You sat all the way up, hands clasped together, in your lap. “Please, tell me what is so complicated.”

“What were you doing in Hotch’s office before this whole case started.” He blurted out, hands fidgeting, eyes looking into yours. 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Because if you said something—anything to Hotch about the whole coping thing, I could lose my job.” 

“Is there a reason your coping would make you lose your job?” 

Spencer’s face twisted into something unrecognizable. His hand started twitching, he started to itch his arm. 

“You’re surrounded by profilers Spencer. And we know you’re hiding something. I know you’re hiding something. And I wish you—god Spencer you just pushed me away and I wish you would Fucking talk to me instead of the fact that you’re clearly coping in an unhealthy way—when’s the last time you actually slept? More than thirty minutes?” 

Spencer licked his lips, staying silent. 

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” You stood up, almost toe to toe with Spencer. God you missed him. Your body almost started to lean into his, wanting to kiss him, wanting to hold him, but you just walked around him, careful not to let him touch you at all. You grabbed your coat and wallet, and slammed the hotel room door shut. 

Derek had just opened his door, leather jacket on, sunglasses on his head. “You look like you need a drink sweetheart.” 

“You should be a profiler.” You snorted, pulling your coat on. 

“Your arm–” 

“--Is fine. Jesus Christ.” You started to walk but stopped and turned around, eyebrows raised. “Are you going to join me or what Morgan.” 

Derek gave you a mini salute and followed you as you walked down the stairs. 

You two ended up in some local townie bar, opposite sides of the booth. You had ordered a shot of tequila before getting something you can slowly sip on. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

You rolled your eyes and took a sip before sighing. “He hasn’t spoken to me one on one in a week, and the first thing he said to me was asking if my talk with Hotch before this case was about him. Not how are you, not even an ‘I miss you’, he just pointed out that I haven’t been home like no shit Sherlock, I know I haven’t been home.” 

Derek nodded and took a sip of his drink. 

“I just—honestly, can we talk about anything else right now? I really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Derek smiled at you, putting his beer down. “So JJ is one hundred percent seeing that detective from New Orleans.” 

You laughed and nodded. “Acting as if we can’t hear her when she takes phone calls from him. It’s ridiculous..”

Derek was a godsend. He had seen you in the hallway, slamming the door, and knew you had needed someone to go out drinking with. He distracted you, pulling topics out of his ass just to help you keep your mind off of Reid. He even helped you walk back, not that you were blackout, but walking in a straight line was not your strong suit at the moment. Once he had made sure you had made it into your room, and we’re settled on the bed, he knocked on Spencer’s door. 

Reid opened the door, slightly confused as to why Morgan was knocking on his door at 2 am. “Yeah?” 

“Fix this. Whatever it is that’s going on…” Derek felt bad for Reid, he really did, but he was not about to condone whatever shitty behavior Reid was on right now. “I’ll see you in the morning, pretty boy.” And with that, Derek placed your room key in Spencer’s hand, and then went into his own room.

Spencer stared at the key, not really sure what to do, but eventually he found himself opening your door, and called out your name. 

You were draped dramatically over the toilet, a renaissance painting if you would. You let out a groan, regretting the last two shots of….something you don’t really remember. You heard Spencer toe off his shoes and make his way into the bathroom. 

“Oh honey…” he whispered, sitting down next to you. 

“I’m so mad at you.” You whispered into the toilet, clearly too drunk to let your filter cover anything you felt. “Like.” You hiccuped and groaned. “You called me a whore in front of all my friends, knowing it wasssn’t true..and then after a week of me”–another hiccup and groan again– “helping you and holding you….you push me away like you don’t even love me.” 

If Spencer could see your face, your eyes would have melted him on the spot. But he didn’t need to see your eyes to hear your voice crack. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He whispered, hesitantly putting a hand on your back, rubbing his thumb up and down.  

“That feels good but I’m still mad.” You grumbled. After a quick inhale, “No.” 

“No, what?” 

“No, I'm gonna throw up. Fuck. Oh god I hate it Spence it tastes so gross. No no no.” You mumbled, sitting up on your knees, forehead on your arms as you coughed into the toilet. 

Spencer sat up with you, kissing the back of your head, fully rubbing your back. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. Let it out.” 

“Shut up. No.” You mumbled, the pet name making your head even more dizzy than before. “I refuse to vomit.”

You kept coughing, doing your best to not vomit, really really trying so hard. 

Spencer cooed your name. “The sooner you throw up, the better you’ll feel.” 

“That sounds like a lie the government made up.” You grumbled into the toilet.

Spencer laughed at you, still rubbing your back. 

“God you probably think I’m so fucking ugly.” 

Spencer shook his head, forgetting you couldn’t see him. “No. No. I promise baby. I still think you’re the prettiest FBI agent on the planet.” 

“Is there some CIA agent I need to worry about?” You joked before shaking your head. “Don’t look at me Spence. I’m gonna vomit and it’s gonna be so ugly and you’ll never ever want to kiss me ever again.” 

“Okay well that’s not true.” 

“Promise me you want, wait no, won't watch.” You mumbled, your breaths becoming shorter. 

“I promise, I promise.” He rubbed your back as you vomited, absolutely breaking his promise, making sure you didn’t choke or pass out or worse. 

Once it was over you let out a groan. “Mother fucking Christ. My mouth tastes so bad.” 

Spencer flushed the toilet for you and handed you some toilet paper for you to wipe your mouth with. “Thank you.” 

Spencer kissed your head again. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been home.” You mumbled, resting your head on your arms, face in the toilet bowl again. “It just feels like you didn’t want me home.” You whispered, and if not for the echo of the toilet bowl, Spencer was almost certain he wouldn’t have heard you. 

“I always want you home.” He kissed your head, reaching for one of your hands to make you look at him, causing you to tilt your head, still laying your head on your arms. 

“Full disclosure?”

Spencer nodded at you, kissing your hand. 

“No Spence, I need to hear you say it.” 

“Full disclosure.” 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to make me make you admit to me what’s been happening.” You sighed. 

Spencer looked down, fiddling with your hand, staying silent. 

“I did talk to Hotch about you.” 

He looked up at you, eyes mixed with emotions flashing between hurt, shame, embarrassment, but you saw a moment of relief, an exhale, somewhere in there. 

“He and Gideon have their own theories about it, Spence but ...whatever it is, I want you to come to me, I want you to talk to me about it. I’m only going to leave if you push me away.” 

“When Tobias would, uh, appear…” you nodded, letting him continue. “He would uh, he would…” 

“Dilaudid?”. 

Spencer nodded. 

“You know you’re—please hold.” You mumbled, and you started coughing again. 

“What did Morgan give you, my god.” He mumbled. 

“I drank of my own accord thank you very much.” You grumbled, not exactly thrilled at your predicament either. 

Spencer pursed his lips. 

Tobais Hankel had a gun to his head, ready to end his life, and all Spencer could think about was you. Your face, your hair, your hands, your lips, you. In his last moment, he didn’t want to see Hankel, he wanted to see you. 

But then he saw the flashlights, heard the rustling, and you were coming to him. God he couldn’t wait to be in your arms, he couldn't wait to sleep in your arms. 

He quickly overcame Tobais, snatching the gun from him, and eventually shooting him. He heard Hotch’s voice, he heard the running, he heard Tobais as he died in front of him, but he couldn’t hear you. 

The team helped him up, helped him walk away, but why weren’t you with them? The cars were empty, no one inside of them. The only answer he had received from hotch was that you had been ordered to stay behind but why didn’t you fight for him? 

Only when the car pulled up to the police station did he watch as you shoved your way through the doors and some officers, eyes scanning quickly across the three black SUVs, not knowing which one he was in. 

Your hand never left your neck, breathing quickly, analyzing all of the faces that came out of the cars, watching and hoping they would have him. He watched as you became more and more anxious, not seeing his face. 

Suddenly, Gideon opened the door for him, and helped him out the car. Blood stained his pants, dirt covered half of his body, and he was sure he smelt like fish guts and death, but the way you whispered “oh thank god” when you saw him, made him feel a million times lighter. 

Your arms were around his torso right as he heard the car door slam shut, causing him to jump at the contact and the noise. He felt the tears coming to his eyes, and your tears on his chest. 

“I watched you-you…” You whispered, holding him tighter, as if letting him go meant he would disappear forever. 

“I know, I know. I lo–”

“Spencer?” Your eyes were scanning his face. “You went quiet on me.” 

His eyes snapped back to you, feeling the cool tile beneath his hand as he exhaled. “Sorry. Just…thinking.”

“That’s never been too hard for you before.” You snorted, giggling at how absolutely hysterical you were. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.” 

“You’re so welcome Spence.” 

He watched as your eyes started to close, body slumping as you struggled to stay conscious. 

“Let’s get you to be yeah?” 

You mumbled something he would only assume was “no” and peeled your head off of the toilet anyways. 

Getting you to abandon the toilet and back into your bed was one of the hardest things Spencer Reid has ever accomplished. The bed was way too warm, and not as cool as the tile floor, causing you to mumble profanities at him the whole time, fighting against his help. You also were starting to doze off, meaning Spencer couldn’t fully walk you to bed, causing you to grumble even more at the fact that you had to be standing, and moving. 

Once you were horizontal on the correct surface, Spencer went to speak to you, but you were no longer conscious, drifting off to sleep the second your head hit the pillow. 

He kissed your forehead, and headed towards the door, a smile on his face as he heard you mumble those three little words. 

“I love you too.” He whispered back, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. 

Maybe all of this wasn’t irrevocably damaged, maybe he wasn’t irrevocably damaged, and maybe, he could fix this. 

Next Part

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A/N: no one has ever wanted to be tagged in my work before so I’m HONORED. Im absolutely willing to add more people to be tagged in this mini series if anyone else wants to be! but this is for you girl boss &lt;3

@raely-study

[ghouljams]

Hello ! How are you doing ?

Thank you so much for sharing your work. Reading your writings has been so therapeutic for me, you have no idea how grateful I am about this. I’m going through a really rough part of my life, and I’m surrounded by sources of high stress that prevent me from relaxing even though I’m supposed to be on vacation with my mom. It makes me really sad and my anxiety is being a nightmare ; but it’s been so nice to run away through it all by reading your works. I’ve been binge-reading your blog ever since I discovered you a few days ago, and I’m in love. Thank you again.

Also ! I just got an idea.

What about PriZe, for Price’s demon’s name ? It’s close to his own name, but not the same ? Gathering intel, torturing their targets and easily claiming their « prized » info ? I don’t really know if it makes sense, I’m really bad at explaining things. But the idea just popped in my head while re-reading this and I just… felt the need to share it ? I really hope it’s okay.

What if the demon has the ability to just… literally dig through their victim’s brain to get any information they want, but it’s a very demanding power that requires them to be in full shape for them to use it properly, like after a good meal ? I imagine some targets are tough nuts to crack, even for a demon, so this method is used on them, albeit very sparingly, because our demon is always exhausted after using it. I see them acting like everything’s fine despite their entire body shaking like a leaf stuck in a storm, only allowing themselves to collapse in Price’s arms when the two of them are alone. Maybe Price gets a little soft, seeing how worn down their are, almost limp from the fatigue they’re trying to fight, and pampers them to get them to sleep ?

(I’m a sucker for powerful abilities with extreme drawbacks.)

Lots of love on you, Friend !

I like Prize, but I don't know if it quite fits what they do. At least in my mind. Price's name comes from the literal cost of acquiring information: they can see everything a target has seen for the price of that target's eyes, can hear for their ears, so on and so forth. Price can do just about anything "for a price". Something I think Capt. Price learned has to come from one of them early on.

That said I'm a sucker for the soft, you know me, so let's drain the demon's battery.

It's been a long 72 hours, and you're starving. You're also pinned down. A slab of cement separating you and your captain from the hail of bullets being rained onto you. Price is yelling into his radio for position information, for backup, for anything really. You're busy trying to improvise a decent explosive to try and buy both of you time. You burn a little more of you reserves to find an extra wire in the rubble and arm the device.

Your shadows lash at the enemy soldier that tries to flank, slashing his throat before spearing through him and into the one behind him. "Christ you are a wonder today," Price breathes, watching the men fall as your shadow retracts.

"Doin' my best," You tell him through grit teeth, popping out of cover just long enough to throw your shitty bomb.

"How much more you got in you?" He asks watching you crouch again. You grimace, doing some quick maths on your hunger levels versus your magic.

"Not as much as we want," You shake your head, "What do you need?"

"Got a helo incoming, need to get to the roof." Easier said than done as always. You tap your fingers against the cement, try to think of your best options, the best use of your remaining resources.

"I'll cover you, just try not to get shot." You both nod to each other and take a breath.

Then Price moves and all hell breaks loose. You expend a considerable amount of magic making every gun jam, and lashing away the already flying bullets. More magic slashing and spearing the combatants that charge Price with a knife or improvised weapon. He's just as quick to fire off shots; grabbing a soldier by the neck and shooting him first in the stomach, then between the eyes, before swiping the semi-automatic he'd been toting.

You throw thick shadowy shields up to catch a knife before it can slash your captain. You're getting slower, the radius of your senses creeping smaller and smaller. Price fires over your head as he back tracks up the nearest set of stairs. If you had even a second to eat...

A bullet grazes Price's arm, tears through his shirt with a streak of blood. You steal a few drops for an unlocked door as you both crash through the metal door leading to the roof. It's blissfully uninhabited but it won't be for long. You drop into Price's shadow, too tired to keep physical form while he runs to the edge of the roof and jumps to the next one.

"Awning on the left," You whisper, stretching to feel the best path to point.

"Stay with me sweetheart, can rest in the helo," Price presses his back to a wall and switches mags.

"Who said anything about resting, I'm working overtime," You grumble, watching him fire around the corner. You tweak a few bullets to hit their targets. You just need to get your charge to safety. That's what you keep telling yourself at least.

Price looks overhead, tracking the helicopter as it flies over the war torn city. Only a moment to breath before he's moving again. You direct him towards the humming metal, tossing him spare mags and spearing the unlucky few that aren't granted a bullet riddled death. When you finally spot the helo it's because the bullets are suddenly flying at it not you.

The door slides open and you hear Price laugh a little, watching Gaz shoot the men running after him from the door. He's quick to pick up the pace, grabbing Gaz's outstretched arm as soon as he's able for the assist climbing in.

"Get us out of here!" Gaz yells to the pilot, hauling Price into the helo with a tight grip. The engine whirs and over it you hear Gaz tell your captain, "Thought we'd lost you when we got separated, you're one lucky bastard."

Not luck, but close enough to it. Price hums, presses a steadying hand to the wall of the helicopter. You choose to take that as a dismissal, letting the darkness shelter you as you drift.

"Price." Your name drags you out of your hibernation. You pull yourself from the shadows in Price's tent just enough to stare at him. He's sat on his cot staring down at you. You try not to look as tired as you feel. He pats the space next to him. "Haven't had you pull anything from me in a while," He tells you, watching you extract yourself from the shadows to climb onto his cot.

"Haven't needed to," You stretch out across the standard issue bed, it's about as comfortable as you expected it to be, "you keep me well fed most of the time."

"I know, an' 'm sorry," He shakes his head, "don't like drainin' you like that."

"Not your fault," you sigh, "There wasn't time to eat, I'm just glad we got outta there in one piece."

"You want somethin' to eat now?" Price turns to settle a hand on your stomach. You hum, thinking over the offer. You're both fairly well trained to each other, but you're honestly too tired for sex after your forced shutdown.

"Maybe after a nap." You earn a smile for your honesty, Price's hand leaves your stomach to nudge you towards the edge of the cot. Just enough room for him to lay down. You figure it must be pretty late in the night if the captain is going to bed. You don't waste time trying to guess the hour, rolling to rest on his chest as Price slips an arm around you.

"Good, I'm exhausted," He sighs, and tugs his hat down over his eyes.

You cuddle closer enjoying the way his hand slides across your back, comforting and gentle. You think he must've been worried about you. You can still remember the first time you overstretched yourself. How hard he'd tried to hide his concern, and the mumbled admission that he didn't like how quiet everything was, how light his shoulders were during your sleep.

You rub your hand against his chest, the soft military issue tee catching under your fingers. Yeah, you miss him too when you're out of commission. You both certainly sleep better when you're corporeal if Price's snores are anything to go off of.

[steveharringtons-lover]

Wrong Window Harrington!

Steve Harrington x Reader (she/her)

a/n: taking requests! like desperate lol

summary: Steve Harrington isn’t the ninja he claims to be.

warnings / content: mentions of smut, swearing, secret relationship, fluff, humour.

———————————————————————-

You can hear the sounds of your younger brother Dustin and his friends from the other side of the wall, all the kids were having a sleepover at your household that night.

You were on babysitting duty, but had decided the let them do their own thing after there was no signs of them settling down anytime soon.

You on the other hand we’re extremely bored, having given up your Friday night to babysit a bunch of fifteen year olds who quickly frankly didn’t need to be.

But you didn’t mind, it had given you the chance to catch up on homework. That was until you had heard the familiar sound of your phone ringing.

“Hello?” You say into the phone, wondering who’s calling you this late.

“Hello sweetheart.” You recognise your boyfriends voice immediately a warm smile spreading across your face.

“Hey Steve, what are you doing calling so late. Don’t you have work tomorrow?” You question him.

“I know, but I miss you.” Steve tells you, you can already see where this is going.

“You know that all of your kids are here tonight right? I can’t come over.” You say, even though all you want is to be with him.

“I know, that’s why I’ll come to you.” Steve say, you can hear the sound of his car keys.

“Your crazy! Dustin will have a fit, and we will 100% get caught!” You whisper into the phone.

“Come on babe! I can hear them through the wall here on the phone! I’ll just climb through your window!” Steve says.

“God it’s so hard to say no to you.” You say knowing he’ll come over regardless of what you say.

“I’ll be there in 10!” Steve says, you can hear him fumbling with his keys before he hangs up.

You quickly tidy up your room and head out into Dustins room to check on all the kids. Matrices and blankets are all around the room.

The boys are playing d’n’d as El and Max watch, your happy that their all finally living a normal life.

“I’m going to bed so don’t be up too late night!” You say poking your head in through the door.

Everyone’s says their good nights quickly and gets right back into playing their game.

You head back to your room, patently waiting for Steve to climb through your bedroom window.

“God your sisters going to bed so early.” Lucas comments after you leave.

“Yeah I know she’s been sneaking out heaps though, I can hear her window at night.” Dustin tells the group.

“Do you think she’s got a secret boyfriend?” Max’s asked intrigued.

“I don’t maybe, I don’t really care though. He’s probably just a random bloke we don’t know.” Dustin says.

The rest of the group agrees and continues to play their game, until the sound of footsteps are heard from the roof outside Dustin’s window.

Naturally the group of teens quickly check to see what is causing all of the noise.

El looks walks over to the window first, opening the curtains with her powers so everyone can get a look at what’s going on.

The group slowly approaches the window preparing for the worst.

“Steve?” El asks confused, looking at him with a funny look on her face.

“Steve?” Dustin asks confused as to why he’s outside the window. “What are you doing here.”

“Oh well, urm.” Steve says fumbling over his words desperately trying to come up with an answer.

“Oh my god! No fucking way!” Max says loudly connecting the dots. “He’s here for your sister Henderson!”

“Wrong Window Harrington!” Mike yells from inside the bedroom.

Lucas, Will and Mike all look as though they are about to burst out laughing. Dustin on the other hand looks like he’s going to strangle Steve.

You can hear the sounds of yelling coming from your brothers room, wondering what’s going on your decide to pop your head out the window to try heat what’s going on better.

Steve, standing outside your brothers window mourn agape is the last thing you were expecting. Your brothers head whipping around from the window to look at you.

“Are you fucking kidding me Harrington!” Dustin says looking as though he’s ready to fight Steve. “My sister! You could have chosen anyone!”

“Look Dustin, I’m sorry! This isn’t how we were going to tell you!” You yell from your window looking around to him.

“It’s nothing personal Henderson, your sisters a really great girl.” Steve says trying to make the situation better.

“I can’t believe it.” Dustin says, finally calming down.

“Mate he’s fucking your sister!” You hear one of the kids say from inside his room.

That gives Steve enough time to quickly jump over to your window and climb in.

“Still got that bat Harrington? I’ve got a feeling you might need it.”

[minniesmelody]

Matching Plaid

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Gareth Emerson x Fem! Reader

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: surprising Gareth with a red plaid skirt to match his sleeveless vest

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: established relationship, this is pure fluff, hints of sex, this is also extremely short so this is more of a quick imagine than a long one-shot

𝗣𝗼𝘃: first Person- Y/n

‘You’re fine Y/n, Gareth is gonna love it…right?’ I thought to myself as I looked at myself in the mirror of the girls school bathroom.

I had gotten a red plaid skirt that perfectly matched Gareth’s iconic red vest, basically his signature look. Mentally Praying he is gonna go nuts over it since I had spent my last 25 bucks on this damn skirt.

I haven’t seen him all day, us having different class schedules.

After a few deep breaths I had exited the bathroom and made my way to the cafeteria where lunch was taking place. I usually skipped lunch, the school lunch grossing me out a bit after I found multiple hairs and even a cockroach in my food once. Usually bringing my own snack or stealing some of whatever Gareth or Eddie had.

I quickly spotted the curly headed boy, sitting in our usual spots at the table we basically claimed for us, freaks.

“Not sure, Cunningham wants to do a drug deal in the woods after last period”

I slowly slid in between Gareth and Eddie and took a seat.

“As in Chrissy Cunningham? No way man, I me- oh hey sunshine, but I mean she is like…. goodie two shoes, someone like her wanting we-“ Gareth stopped when his eyes traveled down to my thighs and his lips parting.

He didn’t move or say anything, even when Mike and Dustin came over with their trays and sat down across from us.

“You alright there, Emerson?” Eddie asked before placing a pretzel in his mouth.

He slowly looked up at me.

“Are you wearing a red plaid skirt right now to match with me or have I finally lost it and I’m not seeing things correctly”

I giggled a little at his comment “no Gare, you are seeing correctly”

“Dude it’s just a skirt, chill” Jeff said from beside him.

He quickly whipped his head his direction. “Just a skirt?! J-Jeff look at it, it matches mine, I mean- that isn’t making you’re head spin right now? Guys?” Gareth said asking everyone else at the table.

They all shook their heads ‘no’

“Nah man” Mike said

“I think that’s only happening to you cause that’s you’re girlfriend so-“ Jeff said, taking a skip of his coke afterwards.

“Do you not like it?” I asked, already knowing he did but just something to tease him with a little.

“Like it? Not even love it, more like obsessed than anythi-“

“Okay okay please we get it, she decided to match with her boyfriend, how cute, but please cut it before y’all decide you wanna create a daycare in the middle of the cafeteria” Eddie said “please and thank you, anyways who is ready for the cult of vecna tonight?”

“Right about that, so Lucas has his-“

Quickly zoning out of whatever was being said as Gareth placed a hand on my thigh and shot a wink at me.

Well worth of last bit of money I still had left in allowance, very well worth it.

𝘼/𝙣 : pls this was so rushed but like I said, I’m trying to push as much fic’s and content as I can, It had popped up in my head and I quickly turned it into a short imagine, hope you enjoyed this really short and shitty…whatever this is- 🐭🎀 x

[dreamescapeswriting]

Special Delivery ~ PJM

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

GENRE: long distance relationship, established relationship, fluffy, cute jimin being cute

PAIRING: Jimin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

People were against your relationship with Jimin, not because he was an idol or because he was a huge flirt but because of the distance that there was between you. While it didn’t bother you and Jimin it seemed to bother those around you who thought their opinions could weigh in on your personal love life. When you told people you were in a long-distance relationship they tried to discourage you and make you think twice about it. Claiming it could never work if the two of you were never in the same time zone but you and Jimin made it work.

“You don’t sound tired, you sound energetic,” Your boyfriend spoke to the phone to you, it was nighttime for you which meant it was daytime for him and you were getting ready for bed. Around this time of night, the two of you would have a phone call together, deciding to spend some time talking and catching up with one another.

“I’m not tired, how can I be tired when the love of my life is talking to me?” You teased him playfully knowing full well that your boyfriend was probably on the other end of the phone blushing. The silence that was met by your answer gave you everything you needed to know.

“Are you gushing about how flirty that was?” You questioned, crawling under the comforter on your bed and pulling your sheets around your chest. This was your favourite part of the day. Being on the phone with Jimin even if it wasn’t for very long it was still everything to you.

“I’m actually trying to come back with a flirty come back for you but I’m blanking,” He chuckled nervously and you smiled weakly. You knew it must be super early for him to be speaking to you and with the tour going on you knew he could use all of the sleep he could get.

“If you wanna sleep a little longer I can cut the call short, you’ve been so busy lately-” The last thing you wanted was to keep your boyfriend awake when he was extremely tired from the night before.

“Don’t!” He quickly interjected not wanting this to end and your heart lept into your throat hearing the desperation in his voice.

“I miss you, I don’t care how early it is I want to talk to you,” You smiled to yourself, laying down against the pillow and glancing at the small calendar beside your bed.

“Only 5 more days until I come to Korea and then we’ll both be in the same time zone,” You reminded him, the trip had been planned out for months now. You’d finally saved up enough money for your own ticket and you’d booked time off from work so you could relax and spend some personal time with your boyfriend. The comment however was met with an uncomfortable silence from the other end of the phone causing your stomach to sink.

“Jimin…” You trailed off, half expecting him to have fallen asleep but he started to make an “erm” sound as though there was going to be something to cancel your trip.

“About that…” His voice slowly hung onto the words and you knew it wasn't going to be any good.

“You have to work?” You couldn’t help the sadness in your tone as you questioned it. You shouldn’t get like this, you knew what dating Jimin was going to be like but it was disheartening to learn that your plans were now going to be ruined.

“I’m going to be out of the country, I’m sorry baby.” He sounded genuinely apologetic for it and you didn’t hate him for having to be out of the country you just hated the circumstances.

“It’s fine baby, it’s not your fault.” You shrugged and began to make a list of things to do in order to get your money back for the trip. Maybe you could get the airlines to push the dates on your tickets and save it for a time when Jimin would be free again but lord only knew when that was going to be.

“Did you hear me?” The question from Jimin pulled you from your headspace and you hummed at him,

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t paying attention baby, I’m sorry,” You explained and sat up in the bed, there was no way you were going to be able to sleep now there was so much you needed to get done in order for your plane tickets to be either cancelled or changed.

“I said, since you couldn’t come to me I sent you something. According to the tracker, it should be with you-” The doorbell interrupted him and he chuckled softly.

“Right now,” He finished his sentence and you frowned, glancing back at the clock. It was pretty late for a parcel, you were almost sure amazon stopped delivering after 10 and you didn’t know any other delivery companies that would deliver this late.

“I didn’t know delivery companies delivered so late,” You giggled, heading down the staircase and in the direction of your front door, unlocking the deadbolt before you got to the keys.

“They made a special exception for this,” Jimin spoke in hushed tones but before you could question why you pulled the door open to see him standing there. It was like all of the air had been knocked out of your body as you stared at him,

“Hey-” He grunted as you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and trying to pull him as close to yourself as you could get. It had been far too long since you’d gotten a Jimin hug and you completely melted against his skin, your heart hammering against your chest as you felt his doing the same.

“I missed you too baby,” He whispered as he gently ran his hand up and down your back, pushing his head into your neck as he took in a deep breath. God, he’d missed the way you smelled, the way you clung to him and the way your bodies moulded perfectly together,

“What are you doing here though? I thought you couldn’t get away?” You quizzed while dragging your boyfriend inside the house and locking up the door behind him.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you I could come now, would it?” He smirked before you wrapped yourself in his arms again, never wanting to leave them. Jimin felt like home to you, whenever he was around everything just felt at peace.

“How long are you here for?” You both slowly made your way over to the sofa and your hand was locked with his, you were almost scared if you let go he would dematerialise and disappear on you or something.

“As long as you want me, I have lots of time off and I plan on spending every second I can with you.” His eyes lit up as he spoke and your heart practically skyrocketed as you thought of all of the things you could take him to do in your town.

“Let's get to bed first before you start making lists,” He laughed already beginning to notice the wheels turning inside of your head. 

With that, the two of you headed up to bed together while you tried to calm your racing thoughts. There was so much you wanted to take Jimin to do and you couldn’t wait to start.

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[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Can you stop calling me an adult when I’m 15 🙏🙏🙏 pleeeease!!! It would be SO silly and fun if you would stop LYING about MY OWN FUCKING AGE on the internet to your fans!! :333

Explain this then.

It’s not exactly lying if I’m going off info YOU gave, is it Lulu?

And if you try to argue that you lied about your age “for your safety” then why parade it around like some fucking “get out of jail free” pass and think you are free of consequences?

Age is not an excuse. Even if you do happen to be a minor, that does NOT free you of any consequences for your actions. Not after the petty and extremely harmful false claims you made about my friend. Or how you harassed Davis in his DMs. And the death threats. The only reason I am bringing this up is because it is already public knowledge now. Just like the links to your socials have always been.

I should also mention your SO silly and fun behavior in the TSAMS angst server. From which this screenshot came. And how you have made a lot of people in it uncomfortable, including myself, with the stuff you would post. Bashing people who liked and defended TSAMS Sun.

This will be the first and last time I ever address this drama here, for my own sake and for the sake of my friend. Do not bring your toxic bullshit to my feed again. Or anyone else’s. Nobody else needs to be dragged into this.

Now kindly fuck off.