#also as I was writing this i realized?? i have never direct addressed you??

[kindlythevoid]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈

You probably have gotten this like four times over at least, but I wanted to take my turn in giving you some well deserved love. You're one of the first people that really made me feel comfortable and welcome on tumblr. So, thank you!

Keep being your amazing self!

I'm screaming this is literally so sweet!!!

I HAVE NOT GOTTEN THIS BEFORE BUT THIS IS ACTUALLY SO SWEET. IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX. AND WHEN I TELL YOU I ALMOST CRIED WHEN I SAW THIS. I ALMOST CRIED AGAIN SEEING THIS.

SORRY FOR YELLING IT'S LATE AND I'M TIRED BUT ALSO VERY VERY HAPPY!!!

"well deserved love" MUTUAL MY BELOVED!! (╥ ╥) <3 <3

That's so sweet to hear, I'm so happy you feel comfortable here on tumblr!! It sounds like you got on around the same time as me, so we've really been helping each other out. :)

ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH HAVE A GOOD NIGHT I'LL STOP SCREAMING now. <3

Kindly,

The Void

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[megistusdiary]

Vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino

(I think I want vampire arlecchino lmao)

can I get a vampire arlecchino x fem!reader whose a vampire hunter? it's an idea that's been stuck in my head for a while, and I think it's really hot

(Ty in advance, btw, i love you and your work, ty for feeing arlecchino fans such as myself)

it took me a while, but i have come to deliver 😁🙏 school and work have been draining me, but i try to post when i have the opportunity!!

also, i am glad you have been enjoying the arlecchino content as much as i love writing it ♡ i have been saving for her when i have time. let's hope she comes home early...

based vampire arlecchino idea 😻🫶 this one is a bit long, so enjoy, please ‼️ call me mr. white the way i cooked this up in one sitting instead of studying

vampire arlecchino x fem!hunter reader

dom!vampire arlecchino x sub!hunter reader (fem anatomy/pronouns)

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, enemies to lovers?, vampires, biting, blood, cunnilingus, arle makes a deal to basically kidnap you (but you are cool with it), guns and knives.

your hand twitches as it hovers over your gun, loaded with a set of silver bullets, extra in your pockets (just in case).

each step you take is cautious, calculated on these creaky floorboards. despite being older than dirt and darker than night itself, this rather extravagant mansion was well taken care of.

even the top shelves of cabinets were dust-free. despite how the owner wanted it to appear abandoned at this moment, it was obvious that was nothing more than a facade. a trap, made to pull foolish, naive "investigators" in.

luckily, you were no fool, nor were you an unsuspecting traveler. you were a trained hunter from a long line of all sorts of hunters for things that go bump in the night.

you just happened to take quite the interest in vampires from a young age. your family was more than delighted, seeing as you picked up their long-honed skills with weapons, incantations, and tricks.

usually, you would go after smaller vampire covens, just a handful living together. despite their speed and strength, your skill with your gun was remarkable. you never missed a shot, and you always brought back-up.

lately, you had been growing more bold, more confident in your skills. (so confident you would come to regret that soon enough in these very halls...)

you crept around the corner, nearly tripping over a bump in the rug. it seemed strategically placed, something you did not miss, as you placed a hand on the wall to steady yourself.

in the distance, you could see warm light in the hallway, torches on the sides lit up. you approached cautiously, still ready to hold your gun at a moment's notice.

you felt something brush you, and you nearly screamed, whipping your gun out and turning your head only to see nothing at all.

your body froze, a cold sweat building up as your head spun in every direction, looking for any shadows, ears straining to listen for any noises.

once you realized nothing was going to jump out at you, your gun was placed back on your waist, and you kept moving.

the hallway was warmer here, due to the flames, each casting a welcoming glow onto the walls and floors. at the end of the hallway was a beautiful ballroom.

the entire room was lit up, chandeliers on the ceiling, glittering as if coated in diamonds. tables were placed meticulously around the room, but only one was set.

you approached it cautiously, seeing an envelope on the table. your fear skyrocketed when you saw this envelope was addressed to you.

with a shaky hand, you picked it up, turning it over to see a red seal keeping it shut. after popping it open, you pulled the letter out.

it was written it what could only be described as elegant penmanship. each letter looked as if it had flown directly out of the pen itself, curved perfectly. the letter merely stated the obvious.

you were an unwelcome guest in her home, though it was no use to attempt to escape now. you were the mouse, and this vampire was the cat.

the letter was signed from 'the knave,' smelling subtly of perfume and quick to fall from your hands and onto the floor. you began to tremble, eyes darting all around the room to find your now captor.

you moved to grab your gun this time, holding it out as you slowly moved across the ballroom, startled when music began to play.

"you can't leave quite yet, i'm afraid, little mouse." a low voice called out. her tone was rather neutral, giving nothing away as you turned to the direction of the sound.

"show yourself, demon!" you called out, being met with dry laughter.

"i'm not so sure you could handle seeing me just yet." the voice hums from another direction.

"oh, really? why's that?" you knew you were pushing your luck. but what else was there to do now? you were trapped inside this vampire's home, and even if you managed to run, she would surely hear every clumsy footstep and every pant from your lips.

the vampire merely laughed again, sounding almost bored. "well, if you're so curious, you'll have to owe me a dance. it's such a shame i don't get to use this room very often."

heels clicked on the floor, and your head whipped to face the vampire.

your face felt hot when you saw her for the first time.

she was gorgeous...in a dangerous way. she was tall, dressed neatly in a crisply pressed suit. the front was open, showing off the shape of her breasts towards the center of her chest. she was draped in expensive but classy jewelry; all diamonds, of course. ah, and she was toned beneath that suit, quite evident each time she moved.

"oh? not what you were expecting?" she tilts her head. her voice carries a lilt of amusement, despite her face not matching that.

your arm shook as you held your gun, taking a small step back.

"why don't you put that gun down? give your arm a rest. you're not going to shoot me." she called out, moving closer.

"what makes you so sure?" you challenge her, but when you go to pull the trigger- "no-"

"what's the matter? go on, pull out your backup dagger, sweetheart. i'll count to five. i'm nothing if not a gracious host."

"no...no no no no!" you mumble, fiddling with your gun helplessly to the sound of her countdown before you threw it to the side, the metal clattering noisily on the floor.

"that temper..." she tutted, and in the blink of an eye she stood behind you. before you could move, she grabbed your hands, positioning them around her neck. her hands were pure black, complete with sharp nails, indicating they were not gloves at all.

she peered down at you, x-shaped pupils sending a chill through your spine. she pulled you to dance with her, enjoying every bead of sweat building up on your forehead, every little whimper with each dangerously fast step, the darting of your eyes across the room.

her lips finally quirked up into a ghost of a smile. "i do hope, for your sake, you didn't think me as easy as those amateur vampires you hunt. you remember, don't you?"

"how did you know about them-"

"apart from the fact that word spreads fast through our kind," she leans down, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. "i know everything there is to know about you."

her whispers are cold against your ear, sending shivers through your body.

"you may think yourself a hunter, but i regret to inform you that you've become my prey this time." she spins you around elegantly, catching you with ease on just one arm.

"that's not possible-" you begin to protest, but sharp nails against your throat shut you up.

"this moment is much nicer without your incessant complaints." she warns, slowly moving her nails away.

the minute the song finishes, she lets go, watching you stumble backwards into one of the tables. "and so it seems, we've come to an end. what a shame. i was hoping you'd have more fight in you." she taps her chin.

you struggle to catch your breath, fear finally settling in. you reach down, pulling your last-resort silver dagger from your boot, slashing it towards her.

you manage to catch her by surprise, nicking her cheek and slicing a small cut, watching her deep red blood slowly drip down her pale skin.

she reaches a hand up to catch the blood, looking over at you. in a matter of seconds, you find yourself on the floor, the vampire on your chest as she holds your wrist down with ease.

she forces the knife out of your hand, enjoying your helpless noises of frustration. "you're a pathetic excuse for a hunter." is all she says. "it's a pity you're so pretty." she sighs.

despite everything, you can't manage to look in her eyes after this. she quickly picks up on that, tossing the knife aside carelessly. "do my words unsettle you, little mouse?" she smirks ever so slightly, leaning down.

the cut on her cheek has already healed, and she knows you're looking at it with confusion. "silver doesn't do anything to creatures like me, i'm afraid." she tuts. "i'm not so sure i could bear to part with you as it is right now. i don't think i could allow you to pass on without having a little taste."

you immediately struggle against her. "you- you bastard! get the hell off of me!" but it's too late. she can hear each beat of your heart, and she knows the difference between trepidation and... excitement.

she leans down, inhaling your scent from your neck, her sharp fangs running across your throat. "be a good girl and hold still for me." she mumbles against your skin.

she places a soft kiss on your skin, hearing you let out a breathy whine, causing her to give you one of her rare grins against your throat.

and then, her fangs sink in deep, indulging in your pained yelps and squirming. "fuck-" you cry out, feeling her hand grip both of yours tighter, holding your wrists down firmly.

the hand tilting your head caresses your jaw almost sweetly while she drinks from you until you grow woozy. "no more- please- can't-" you mumble, and much to your shock, she pulls away.

her lips are coated in your blood, flushed red as she shows off her blood-covered fangs. "it seems i was right, you do taste rather divine." she seems to ponder something briefly, lost in her own world as she looks off to the side. "hm...i'll tell you what. are you still with me, little mouse?" she lightly taps your cheek, watching you blink up at her.

"what...?" you ask tiredly.

"let's make a deal, just between us." she proposes. "i don't want to have to kill you, so i'll make this as simple for you as i can manage." she caresses your cheek, nails lightly scratching your sensitive skin. "you will live, but you will never leave here. not until i'm fully satisfied with you." she hums, smoothing a hand down your face.

"you... want to kidnap me?" you ask her, brows furrowed. "i don't understand-"

"i want you all to myself." she suddenly says, seeming rather serious. "let me have you... give me all of yourself, and i will graciously allow you to live under my care here."

you freeze up, staring up at her, unsure of what to say. "i... and if i refuse?"

"would you prefer decapitation or-"

"okay, i understand!" you cut her off immediately, eyes wide with fear. "there... you are not giving me any other choice... so...i accept."

she snorts lightly. "don't act so innocent. i can practically smell you leaking for me." and those are the words that set your face ablaze.

"excuse me?" you gawk. "that- that's absurd-"

"i think the last thing you want to do right now is argue with me, little mouse. i can hear your heart. i've already memorized patterns of fear...of anger..." she leans down, breathing against your cheek, "of lust." she whispers softly.

"there is no point in lying to me, so why don't you be a good girl for me, and," she stands up, yanking you with her, "follow me."

she pulls you like a little puppy through the hallways, off to what appears to be her chambers. she lets go of your sore wrists only to toss you on her bed. the sheets are red and silky beneath you.

instead of joining you on the bed, she sits in an armchair near the foot of the luxurious bed, one leg crossed over the other. "undress for me. go on." she hums, seeming amused.

you sit frozen for a moment until she snaps her fingers, and you slowly pull your clothes off. once you get to your undergarments, you shyly sit before her.

"those too." she orders, eagerly watching you slip them off until you sit bare on the bed in front of her. "good girl. crawl to me, come here." she crooks a finger, watching you crawl to her, looking rather embarrassed as you kneel on the bed.

she stands up, approaching you and slowly kneeling down on the floor. her face is level with your thighs, and she pushes you onto your back, unceremoniously yanking you closer to her. clawed fingers dig into your thighs as she pulls them over her shoulders.

"you should know something about me before we begin." she mumbles against your thigh. "you'll refer to me as arlecchino, is that understood?"

"yes-" your voice is shaky and breathy, and she nods. the first kiss she presses on your thigh is dangerously close to your pussy, and it has your hips jumping up to chase her lips.

once she moves to kiss your clit, she smirks slightly at the breathy sigh of her name escaping your lips. she decided it sounded just perfect coming from you. so sweet despite it coming from someone trained to kill her kind.

lucky for her, it didn't seem you were prepared for her variant at all. what a shame. now you'd never finish your training.

not that you seem to care with the way her lips are wrapping around your clit. you think you'd be much happier underneath her than holding a knife to her throat anyways.

"a-arlecchino, more...please-" you beg her.

being the generous host she is, she gives you exactly what you asked for, lapping over your clit.

she slides her tongue further down, teasing your entrance with the tip, slipping in slightly before pulling away.

"please!" your voice grows whiny, and she leans up to look at your face. the way you look so pathetic is everything to her. your eyes meet hers, glassy with unshed tears. "need more, please?" you ask her so kindly...

she kneels back down, nipping at your thigh almost playfully before she dives back in. the way her tongue moves so sinfully against your cunt has your back arching.

your nipples are painfully hard, perking up and begging for attention from her as you pant. her nails dig into your thighs, but you don't even register the pain.

every so often, her tongue darts over to your thigh, licking up the blood beading from the shallow punctures she created in your skin. she lets out soft, deep groans into you, making your body tremble as your own hips move against her mouth.

"yes, yes, fuck- close, i'm so close-" you begin to ramble.

"beg for it. beg for me to allow you to cum." she simply tells you. despite her tone being rather sultry, it is a warning in itself.

"please! let me- let me cum, please, please, arlecchino-" you could've never imagined begging a vampire to allow your body to do what it wants. you felt so embarrassed, but too far gone to really care.

"go on." she urges, carrying you through your orgasm. she indulges in your little 'thank you's afterwards, kissing your clit softly, enjoying your overstimulated twitching.

she leans up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before moving to sit in her armchair. she spreads her thighs, starting to unbuckle her belt, beckoning you over. "come here, come get your reward."

[goddessapostle]

Tease

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya Nakahara, GN!Reader Summary: You’ve never met this elusive Dazai, but he sure knows how to piss Chuuya off.

1.1k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: requested by @acidsbeats. Thank you for choosing to help with the @ficsforgaza initiative, and thank you so much for your patience!! I hope it meets your expectations.

You’ve never met this elusive Dazai, but he sure knows how to piss Chuuya off. 

The first you heard of him was a once peaceful afternoon, until Chuuya stormed into your apartment. Your poor wall broke where the doorknob hit it, a spiderweb of cracks that spread a near foot in diameter. Instead of addressing the new hole in your wall, he went straight for your wine. It was the cheap kind, the kind you don’t mind but know he doesn’t like. 

He had half the bottle gone by the time you followed him into the kitchen. It swung in his left hand, his right struggling to light a cigarette. 

Your nose wrinkled when you plucked the cigarette from his mouth. “No smoking inside,” you told him. “You know that.” 

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “Just ran into an old–” 

He hesitated and you raised a brow. An old friend? An old ex? 

“An old coworker,” Chuuya said, and you understood his reluctance — your relationship was still fresh, at that point, and you had no idea what his job entailed, just that it paid well. 

He never gave the name of his coworker that night. But it became a habit of his — coming to you after an encounter, pacing through your house while ranting. You’re not even sure he realized he let the name Dazai slip one night. All he can think about is that ‘annoying, suicide-obsessed maniac that doesn’t have the balls to commit’. Chuuya’s words. 

That is all you know of Dazai, but you find reason to thank him: Chuuya is absolutely adorable when riled up in that specifically post-Dazai way. He’s been more careful since he patched up the crack in your wall, but he still comes and paces your kitchen. He now brings his own booze — sometimes wine, sometimes whiskey — and always pours some for you before downing half the bottle. You tend to forget what he says in the moment, instead focusing on the way his body moves. 

His hands jerk in every direction, steadying only to prevent the spill of his drink. His fancy designer shoes clack against the linoleum of your kitchen. His face flushes as he rants, using such creative insults you can’t help writing them down for later use. 

You always let him rant for a few minutes — it’s good for his health to vent — but never long. While venting is healthy, obsession isn’t. (You also don’t have time, between work and sleep, but he doesn’t need to know that.) 

No matter what you say, however, he continues on his rant. There is only one thing you can say that causes him to pause: 

“You must like him a lot.” 

Or something similar. Every time you say it, Chuuya freezes. Then he slowly, slowly, turns his gaze to you. He struggles to keep his anger in check — already exasperated by Dazai, it takes a lot of control not to explode. He may be quick to anger, but it was never a side he directed at you. 

“Excuse me?” he hisses. 

You smiled. “You’re just so passionate about him. Makes me wonder what I have to do for you to treat me like that.” 

His breath catches and he clings to you, choosing to forget the mess that caused him grief. The next day finds you in good spirits, having been lavished in praise all through the night. 

And though you may tease, you never mean anything by it. You know Chuuya loves you; it’s why he comes to you to vent his frustrations. You've always trusted him. You always will. 

Even when you realize his job is dangerous. Every time there’s a ruckus in Yokohama, he shows up ranting about Dazai. You expect it at this point, and just like clockwork, he shows up one Friday night. 

“That prick,” he growls as he storms through your kitchen. “He has the nerve to just show up and boss me around!” He drinks from the bottle — squat and square, filled with an amber liquid. “I never worked under him in the first place! I was the one who decided to join! I didn’t follow him like a goddamn dog!” 

“Oh, definitely,” you say, only half paying attention. Most of your focus is on the drink he poured for you. He chose a lowball glass, so it’s whiskey of some sort. Your nose wrinkles when you sniff it. It smells mostly of alcohol, lacking the notes of smoke and ash his usual liquor carries. 

Your lips quirk up as you check the time. It’s been ten minutes, give or take, so it’s time to interrupt. 

Heaving a mock sigh, you pick up your glass and take a sip. The whiskey is strong and stocky, made to intoxicate and little else. “If only you paid me this much attention.” 

Like always, Chuuya pauses. He’s facing away from you, so you can’t see his face, but you can see his shoulders droop. He sighs and sits at the kitchen table, in the chair next to you. His hands find yours, and he squeezes tight. 

And that is... odd. He’s never deflated so quickly before. 

“Y’know you mean the world to me, right?” he asks. “That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, right?” 

“Of course, baby,” you say. You free one hand to run your fingers through his hair. He rests his cheek in your palm, and you stifle a chuckle at his pouted lips. Even after so much confirmation, every time you meet, he’s still unsure. Still afraid you might leave him. 

Is he so used to being left behind that he cannot handle such simple teasing? 

You pull his face to yours, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. “Rough day?” you ask. 

“You have no idea.” Chuuya downs the whiskey left in your glass. “Move in with me.” 

“Pardon?” When you meet his eyes, you find them cold and steely. This is not the Chuuya you know. This is a Chuuya at work, with an edge of danger in his gaze. 

He takes your hands in his, squeezing them tight again. “Dazai knows about you. No one should know about you.” 

“And that’s bad.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it makes Chuuya hesitate before he answering. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Dazai is an ass, but he’s got morals now.” You raise a brow. “He’s not who you should worry about.” 

“Your job,” you say. “You're worried about someone there.” 

He swallows, but admiration shines in his gaze. “Move in with me. My apartment has better security. I want you to be safe.” His eyes soften, and his lips tilt in a small smile. 

“Besides, you can’t say anything about Dazai if you’re the one who lives with me.” 

Who are you to argue with such sound logic? 

[beomiracles]

congrats on ur 500 serene!! would like to ask for a bonus scene from professor kang? tysm <3

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... I have a crush on my math teacher, he's 6'5 sue me. he also lets me pass all exams even when I only answer like 3 questions! — anyway I went back to reread the original fic and my eyes started burning from my bad writing. at the same time it made me happy, it puts into perspective just how much I've progressed these past months!!

original fic here (I am apologising in advance for the writing of it)

cw, teacher x student relationship (reader is well above the age of 18, uni), taehyun kinda exploits his role as a teacher, porn photography, + suggestive make out

You knew that it was bad the second he placed your test results on your desk without as much as a glance in your direction. Your stomach drops as your gaze falls on the cursive writing. 12/35. Swallowing the lump in your throat, your fingers curl into fists around the flimsy material of your skirt and you keep your head down, hoping he wouldn’t address you. — It was weird, you never scored this low, never, especially not in physics. 

It was inevitable, you knew that, yet you still felt your heart leap as your professor beckoned you over after class. The walk toward his table felt miles long and when you finally stopped before him, your hands clasped in front of you as your head hung low, you drew in a short breath. — Your professor sighs as he leans back in his chair, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “You do know why I’ve called you here?” Taehyun asks and you meekly nod. 

“And you understand that you do need to hand in extra material in order to pass?” His statement manages to draw your gaze from the floor as you look up at him with a frown, “am I not supposed to retake the exam?” You quietly wonder, your thumbs digging into the back of your hand as you try to calm your beating heart. Your professor shakes his head before reaching down to fish up a bag. Your eyes widen as you recognize the expensive brand, and before you know it, he’s shoved it in your hands. 

You blink as you peer down to study its contents, your lips parting as you realize what exactly he’s bought for you. — “Five photos will suffice”, Taehyun drawls as he studies your stunned expression. “Unless you would rather retake the exam, the offer still stands”, he muses and you let out a shaky exhale. Unable to tear your eyes away from silky lingerie, its bold and almost intimidating red color perfectly matched the one currently on your cheeks. 

“Five photos?” You ask and your professor nods. 

The smooth fabric felt nice against your skin and as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, you felt your face heat up at the erotic sight. You played around with angles, making sure to get a few that captured your tits, nipples on full display beneath the practically see through silk. Then a few of your ass, one of your hands sliding along the curve of it as you snapped a couple of photos. 

Once you were done, you walked over to your bed as you sat down to pick out five suitable ones. You hesitated as you attached the images to the email, checking over and over that you had the correct address before you finally sent them. — It took barely five minutes to get a reply back, and your jaw slacked as you read the short sentence. 

“7.30am, my office, wear it.” — Sent from Iphone 

Taehyun’s slender fingers easily slide your unbuttoned shirt off your shoulders as his eyes shamelessly roam your exposed skin. Fingertips tracing the curve of your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple through the fine crimson lingerie. You shudder as your legs spread further, hands gripping on to the desk behind you, his graded tests pushed back to make room for you on his study. 

“T-The photos…did you like them?” You gasp as his hot mouth trails along your neck, tongue dragging across your skin as his hand snakes around your waist, instantly sliding under your skirt to grope at the flesh of your ass. He hums as his other hand creeps up your thigh, “five more and I’ll raise you to an A.” 

You blink as you consider the offer, your stomach fluttering at the thought of posing for him once more. His fingers slip beneath the fabric covering your throbbing cunt and you cry out as he slides them inside. “Your gpa would certainly benefit from it”, he drawls as he kisses the shell of your ear. 

Slowly nodding, you bite your lip as you glance over at the other student’s hard efforts, scattered across his desk, long forgotten as your professor’s attention remained solely on you. Perhaps it was wrong, unfair, and even selfish, but as his thumb grazed over your clit you suddenly didn’t care anymore. 

You scored an A after that.

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[genericpuff]

I was kind of curious: What do you think of Persephone's therapy scenes in episodes 160-161?

I personally liked them, but you and many other LO critics always seem to see things that totally flew over my head (I mean that in a positive way).

I think the idea behind them was fine, just the execution that felt really half-baked. Rachel doesn't like scenes to sit too long so the therapy scene, of course, wound up being rushed in the course of 2-3 episodes (meaning she had to have Persephone dump everything all at once) and while Persephone's dialogue is handled relatively well, the direction of the scene itself feels entirely mismanaged (which is both a side effect of Rachel's directionless writing and the fact that she clearly doesn't want to do more than one of these kinds of episodes so she needs to speedrun it).

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion concerning sexual assault ahead!

Like, let's start with Persephone's intent in going to therapy. Wanting to pursue therapy doesn't just happen suddenly, there's usually a "trigger event" to make someone realize "I need help", whether it be hitting rock bottom or even just going "I feel like I don't have the skills or tools necessary to deal with what I'm dealing with, I need a professional opinion".

Despite Eros advising her to go to therapy all the way back in S1 to address her assault-

-she actually finally goes to therapy in S2 not to address the assault, but to address... how she feels insecure in comparison to Hera who she just found out Hades had a long-term affair with??? At least that's definitely the implication.

And then of course the therapy session itself segues immediately into "Persephone is a high achiever and it's because of her mom being overbearing" which Rachel doesn't connect at all to either the SA or her feeling insecure compared to Hera (which, by the way, barely even has anything to do with her, but she didn't - and still doesn't - have the emotional maturity or self-respect to realize that Hades is a serial cheater-)

That's where the first therapy episode cuts off, and then the next episode immediately opens with Persephone writing her entire backstory on a whiteboard, so we can assume time has passed and she's talked about everything from her childhood up until this point.

Then we get Chiron asking Persephone... what could go wrong if she leaves TGOEM??

Even though we never saw any of the actual sequence so it just feels like a question that's coming out of nowhere? Like did Persephone say during that schpeel that she wanted to leave TGOEM? Isn't that something we should have seen to connect these two trains of thought?

Ah, right, because we have to get into Hades. Because this comic fails the Bechdel test so hard it can't even have a character talk about their trauma or childhood without it seguing into "well there's this one specific main character guy I just really wanna sleep with-"

Don't get me wrong, if Rachel is trying to "deconstruct purity culture" here, I can get her angle with this, if Persephone has been "groomed her entire life" to be an eternal maiden then there's clearly some thought processes about sexual attraction there that are being challenged by her attraction to Hades. But it just feels so rushed purely for the sake of getting her through her trauma and childhood problems and everything that Rachel tacked onto her backstory (in an attempt to make her seem more than just a self-insert) so that Rachel can get her back on track to sleeping with Hades, the one and only man she's clearly ever felt sexual attraction to enough to want to leave TGOEM and question her entire childhood.

And then we get this and I just-

Like first of all, again, Persephone being a complete airhead and not realizing that it has less to do with her possibly being an inadequate partner and more to do with Hades being a serial cheater who also used her as an emotional affair partner;

but ALSO the fact that the conclusion is some "eureka" moment of "you're a bad decision maker" ??? I was a fan of the comic still when this scene happened and even I went "huh?"

Like she doesn't bother to try and connect it to everything she just learned and said about her childhood and how she wants to be the "perfect daughter" who will make everyone happy, Chiron just reduces it to "oh you just suck at making decisions". As if "sucking at making decisions" isn't like, a reactionary extension of deeper problems. She's treating it as if Persephone is some "puzzle" to be solved and her being a "bad decision maker" was the answer when it's undoubtedly just one of many side effects of her upbringing. It feels like she's addressing the cough and not the virus.

Also a little off topic but-

Gotta love how we've never seen Persephone actually employ this homework from her therapist because she's constantly stapled to Hades and the only thing she cares about is his happiness. Literally, I don't think Persephone could possibly answer that question because she's never been independent enough to even learn what makes her happy - she's jumped from wanting to make her mother happy to wanting to make Hades happy but we're supposed to condemn the former and celebrate the latter.

Buuut of course we don't get her answering that question because again, Rachel can't spend more than 30 seconds on a single scene because that would demand too much writing and thought from her. So we cut to Hera having a discussion with Asclepius regarding her scars re-opening, yadda yadda.

By the time we cut back to the therapy session at the start of the next episode (that's three episodes that have been spent basically accomplishing nothing because none of the thought threads tie together in a meaningful way beyond what the audience has to assume) Chiron is conveniently wrapping things up and it's then and only then does Rachel try to actually incorporate the SA plotline that was Persephone's ORIGINAL MOTIVATION in going to therapy.

Now, the scene for the most part is fine, I don't really like how the therapy session was written leading up to it, but her describing her freeze response and how she feels guilty she couldn't "fight back" is a very real feeling that I can definitely say was well written.

My one gripe with it though - and sure, this might be nitpicky, but here me out - is this:

I don't particularly like that Chiron the therapist just found out about her patient being a rape victim - someone who's also said she doesn't like people grabbing her / touching her without her consent - and then decides the best course of action is to comfort her... while touching her.

Now I want to make it perfectly clear, it's not against the law or even the code of ethics to make physical contact between a therapist and their patient. Loads of patients have made breakthroughs with their therapists that have called for hugs and while some therapists may not be okay with it, there are definitely therapists who are who fully understand that hugs in those moments are the best thing for a person. But it's still a general boundary that is there and even with patients who aren't victims of SA, consent needs to be asked for / given.

So Chiron just... coming over and touching Persephone on the knee, while undoubtedly seen as a "warm and comforting act" by those who have had similar sessions with their own therapists or even just those who have no clue and see it on the surface level as being "sweet", really irks me, because it just seems so tone deaf to do with a character like Persephone who is supposed to be a victim of having her bodily autonomy taken away from her.

Again, it's a small criticism, and undoubtedly a nitpick in the eyes of some, but a simple "can I give you a hug?" from either Chiron or Persephone would have gone a long way in accomplishing Persephone's need for consent and bodily autonomy a lot more than just having Chiron come up and touch her leg without her consent. Please, for the love of god, let Persephone have some autonomy, asking for consent doesn't ruin the moment.

And that's pretty much it, Persephone talks about how she feels like she's tethered to Apollo, and Chiron assures her that's not the case, session over, Persephone goes outside to Hades aaaand notice how we never actually tackled that "I feel insecure because of my partner having former partners?" thing? Notice how the best we got was her talking about her fears of being an "inadequate partner" which focused entirely on her not being "enough" for Hades and being a "bad decision maker" rather than pointing out 1.) Hades' own faults in being a serial cheater that would undoubtedly contribute to her insecurities and 2.) what Persephone could do for Hades rather than what Hades could do for Persephone? It's always "I don't know if I'm good enough for him" and never "I don't know if he's good enough for me."

Yet another F-- on Lore Olympus' Bechdel test. Every single thing tacked onto Persephone's backstory is meant purely to get her with Hades - TGOEM is just an obstacle preventing her from having sex with Hades, the assault is just a framing device to show how much "better" Hades is for Persephone than Apollo, her overbearing childhood is just to show how much more "free" she is now that she's not living with her mother and is living with Hades instead, etc.

No agency, no autonomy, no character, even when it tries.

[autismcatboy]

i hear the sunspot is a story about being human first, disabled second and a bl third. it doesnt flow like a bl and has very brief moments of romance because its not intended to be read/watched a romance.

the mangaka did not write it as a BL because she herself wasnt even familiar with it as a genre until after she started publishing. she was writing a story that just happens to also feature queer romance.

the live drama is not going to end with them getting together. its an adaption of just one series within the story and even at the most current series, they only barely got together.

the story is not unrealistic in how it handles communication (or lack thereof). its a lot easier to judge characters (and people in real life) when you think you have all the pieces, but the reality is we know very little about how others truly feel and when you have a lot going on and pulling you in different directions, its hard to know it yourself.

continued below the cut, spoiler free.

taichi and kohei are busy adults. between work/school, family and personal health, they dont have a lot of free time. many people dont have ways to contact friends they made in school because usually, you just see each other and dont think about exchanging contact information until later.

exchanging contact information is a bigger step to take in japan compared to places like the us. taichi uses a flip phone until hes pushed to get a smartphone after it breaks. data plans are expensive and many are selective about when and how they use them, and chatting apps like line are usually the main form of communication method. many people in the us dont like to give out their number or social media (which is also a feature of line) to people they know, like coworkers or classmates.

theres some pretty big assumptions about japanese culture and what its like to be a young adult by fans watching the drama that, in my opinion, just arent realistic. you're thinking like a bl fan and not like what people actually do in real life.

i hear the sunspot is a story about navigating the awkward, the hardships, fumbling and coming to terms with the things we may not like about ourselves. this isnt just about being disabled. able bodied, fully healthy people have things they dont like, push off and ignore. we see this in taichi, and how he continues to push that hes happy, nothing is wrong, he's just a big goofball and doesn't have anything below the surface and a lot of you have fallen for it.

relationships rarely go "we met, we fell in love, and now we are together and everything is perfect with only mild and entertaining drama." in fact id say they almost never do. people get scared to get close to other people, people dont think about if their feelings are romantic love or not when theyve never considered they might be gay. people get busy and distract themselves from addressing the things theyre not ready to look at and understand. all of these things happen much more often and often subconsciously, too.

people are mean and bullheaded when they feel like their comfort zone is threatened. people *run* when they feel like their status quo might change and they dont know what that will look like.

its easy to say someone is being ridiculous when you dont have their full story or dont stop to consider their circumstances. will it be different from how you'd react? absolutely. you lived a different life and had different experiences shape who you are.

but its equally as ridiculous to assume you know exactly how you'd react better than someone in their situation. no one is perfect, and definitely not 20 something year olds figuring out how to be adults after tough moments completely changed their childhoods. your early 20s, especially, is about thinking youre an adult and realizing just how little you know about adulthood. its easy to look back on when i was taichi and kohei's ages and say "oh there is a /lot/ that i fucked up with and couldve done better".

i hear the sunspot is about being human. the mistakes, the drama, the pain and the laughter. it happens to also have a gay love story but its not written to *be* a gay love story or even to be any love story in the first place.

if youre not willing to wait, and consider all the troubles that come before and during their relationship, this is not the story for you. save yourself the time, its got a long way to go. maybe come back in a few more years and see if the story resonates differently.

theyre not going to dive right into a relationship when they still barely know themselves.

[merlinmarvelandother-oneshots]

Hello, good morning/afternoon/night.

(this was written with a translator, in case there are spelling errors)

First of all I want to tell you that I adore everything you write and the way you do it.

And second, could I place an order?

I'm still learning how to use Tumblr, so I don't know how to do several things and I don't know if I'm writing this where I should.

I hope it doesn't bother you ir make you feel Uncomfortable!!

Lately I have had some situations in which a...family member...in an indirect and at the same time direct way has told me that I am...overweight/fat...and that has made me feel bad, so only if you want, could you make some headcanon about how Undertale, Underswap, Underfell and Horrortale would react to me believing that.

(I mean, they would deny it and say nice things or they would laugh and make fun of me for it and highlight having a double chin and a belly and stuff like that...)

But of course, if you don't want, of course it's not necessary or if it seems like there are too many characters, you can remove them or if you want ignore this and I'll understand.

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

anon, i’m so sorry this happened to you <3 it’s unfair and nobody should have to go through that.

readers gender isn’t specified, but i use “beautiful” and “gorgeous”

Undertale, Underfell, underswap, and horrortale skelebros reacting to a reader who has been fat-shamed

Undertale:

Sans:

-his brow bones would furrow

-“wait a minute, who said that?”

-he’d nod when you tell him

-“listen, they’re wrong. you’re beautiful as you are. now, i don’t want you starting any diets or anything if they would just make you unhappy, because i’ve heard plenty of stories about them being terrible. your family members just plain wrong. ‘kay?”

-he’d hug you if you were still upset

-from then on, he would tell you how gorgeous you were more often

papyrus:

-he would be even more upset than you were, honestly

-someone would DARE say such nasty things about HIS s/o / friend??

-he would storm to their house, knock on the door, and that man WOULD. NOT. BUDGE. until your family member listened to him.

-he would be harsh but obviously be nice about it

underfell:

Sans:

-why do you give a fuck???

-he’s honestly so confused

-like, his brother told him the same thing (which also confused him, seeing as he is a SKELETON) and he just?? didn’t care??

-he tells you to stop giving a fuck

-that’s it

-“why do you give a shit about what they say? their opinions are ass. you look great”

papyrus:

-he doesn’t look up from his book when you say that

-“mm. you could stand to lose a few pounds, i guess”

-(you don’t think he quite realized how hurtful that is)

-if you tell him he’d ask why

-he thinks he’s genuinely looking out for your best interests.

underswap:

sans:

-“they told you WHAT!?”

-he would be FUMING with anger

-but, he would calm himself down enough to reassure you

-he would tell you that you look amazing, and you shouldn’t start a diet that you wouldn’t enjoy just to conform to their standards of beautiful or healthy.

-he would talk to the family member afterwards, angrier than he would normally like to be when resolving a conflict

-you never hear those words from your family member again, trust me

papyrus:

-“fuck ‘em”

-you appear slightly offended that he would say something like that about your family member, so he elaborates

-“they want to police you on how traditionally beautiful or healthy you are. you were happy before that, but now their words have upset you, for something that didn’t need said in the first place. so, fuck ‘em. that’s an asshole move”

-he would not argue this with you

horrortale:

Sans:

-hes so fucking confused

-where he’s from, food is a scarcity, and your family’s bitching about “too much?”

-he contacts your family member, whether that be finding their address from your address book or by finding their phone number on your phone, and gives him a piece of his mind.

-he would rant for HOURS if he could, or if he could keep his train of thought for that long, about how lucky they are for having food in the first place.

-afterwards he would encourage you about how beautiful you are, and how wrong your family member is

papyrus:

-he would look at you with concern

-overweight?

-he won’t pretend to be an expert on human weight, but even if you are “overweight,” that’s a good thing! it means you have access to food!

-that’s SO special to him.

-he would tell you that no matter what your family member thought, you were BEAUTIFUL

-he would be happy to talk to your family member if you wanted him to

[sobbingsapphic102]

Black Letter Day

Word count: 1155

A/N: I stole the title “Black Letter Day” from the Cardigans.

Mother Miranda x Reader

You sit on a brown roll-arm sofa and read a frustratingly descriptive book that you had been putting off for ages. It’s critically acclaimed and a “classic”, but why describe the pattern of the wallpaper for 5 pages? The fact you woke up later than usual and the weather being gloomy didn’t aid you in feeling good or energized.

You hear footsteps, creaking loudly and slowly, in your direction. You turn your head and see your father, holding an envelope. Hope fills your body, like water filling a glass, nearly overflowing. Could it be a letter from Miranda?

You left Romania to visit family at home, much to Miranda’s dismay, and have been staying with them for two weeks since. You hadn’t seen them for a few months. As a way to assuage their stress and worries, you came to visit. From the moment you had told her you were leaving, she had been cold, distant. You hoped this was a letter from her.

“Just checked the mailbox and there’s an envelope addressed to you. No return address on it though, do you want me to throw it away—“ He gets cut off by you jumping off the sofa and snatching it away from him, “—oh, okay.”

You smile sheepishly, “Sorry, but I think I know who it’s from.” You don’t waste a second ripping the envelope open. You pause, as your father is still in the room, and give him a pointed look. He exasperatedly sighs, and leaves. Without closing the door.

When you finally open the envelope, you’re met with a creased, and faintly yellowed piece of paper. Despite that, the quality is much better than the average printer paper you have. It’s thicker and textured. You run your fingers along the rough edges.

On the top right corner of the letter, is Miranda’s name, an unfamiliar address, and the date on which the letter was written. 6 days ago. You sit down before reading the scrawl, written using the black fountain pen she so loves.

To my dearest,

I have been thinking of you from the minute you left Romania. I should not have been so detached from you; I regret it deeply now. I have been waiting for a letter from you, but I now know it will not be received unless I apologize.

What have you been doing with your family? Hopefully, your time spent at home isn’t as pointless as mine here. No suitable vessels have been found. My false children are growing restless and bicker with each other relentlessly in our family meetings. Especially Heisenberg and Dimitrescu. Their arguments are migraine-inducing, to put it mildly. I know you would have enjoyed the banter. Everything else in the village is well.

Have you been reading the medical books I lent you? I expect you to have. You must understand I will not tolerate your antics and so-called “pranks” in the laboratory any longer. I need you as a competent assistant and not a distraction.

Overlooking that, your presence in the laboratory is missed. I now realize how much I have neglected you, my sweet, and when you soon arrive I will be sure to make it up to you.

I nearly forgot to ask you, how will you get back? It’s a treacherous path back here, you may want me to fetch you. Write soon.

Forever yours,

Miranda

After giggling like a schoolgirl, you realize you haven’t been reading up on the books she let you borrow and you have no idea how to get back. It was Miranda who had embraced you in her wings and mystically brought you to her home, and it was Miranda who brought you to the airport.

Also, how the hell are you meant to finish those books that weigh more than bricks on a mini vacation?!?

Ignoring the stress coiling inside of you, you re-read the parts where she wrote how she missed you and the part where she called you “my sweet”. She sounded so lovely in the letter, you thought. As much as you want to, you couldn’t make fun of Miranda. She’d never do anything this cute ever again!

You languidly walk to your desk to begin writing a letter. It’s wooden, and vintage, with large drawers on the left and right and thin drawers underneath the surface. After ransacking the room, you find an adequate piece of paper and an envelope to match. You pick up the nicest pen you have write your name along with the date on the top right corner to mirror what Miranda did, and begin the letter.

Dear Miranda,

Your apology is accepted.

My time at home has been great! I went shopping and to restaurants with my friends and family. I’m reading this boring book right now (because I’ve definitely finished reading the books you gave me). Wish you had written what Dimitrescu and Heisenberg said, it would’ve been a much more enjoyable read than whatever I’m currently reading.

I miss you lots as well. I even had a dream about you! Don’t make that dirty. We were hanging out on a playground from my elementary school. We just stayed on the swings though.

My transportation is a good point to bring up. Will you do that teleportation thing with me with your wings, from the airport? Please? (I’m 100% not saying this because I want a hug, no way.)

I’m coming back in 15 days, on a Saturday. I’ll pick a day flight because I hate sleeping in planes, I get so sick. It’ll be a long flight unfortunately, so I’ll take a plane at 8 am and be there around 6 pm. Is that alright? Pick me up then?

Lots of love,

Y/N

You skim over the letter, disregarding the contrast between your letters. Gingerly putting the paper in the envelope to avoid creases, you then seal the envelope off using a glue stick. You admire your handiwork for a brief moment. You grab the pen from earlier and write her first name and the unknown address she had provided. As you write, you remember the need for a stamp.

Back in Romania, the Duke would’ve had this covered! A jog to him would’ve gotten you the stamp and another two useless items that he’d goad you into buying.

After yelling for your dad to get you a stamp, you place it in the top right corner and give it to him.

“Seriously? You’re a grown-up now, go mail it yourself.” Your dad says.

“Please!” You plead, “I’m too tired to go, please please plea—“

“Okay fine!” He exclaims, before taking the letter from you and getting dressed to go to the post office.

“Thank you!” You call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. With a shrug, you go back to your room and lay in bed, underneath a cozy blanket, eagerly anticipating a letter back.

[kismetconstellations]

There are so many ways that Voltron: Legendary Defender failed its characters. From the unfathomably idiotic decision to kill Allura off in the finale, to putting Coran through the pain of losing his family twice over, to all of the "jokes" at the expense of Hunk's anxiety, weight, and stomach problems.

But, to me, the most egregious example of this will forever be the numerous ways that Shiro was mistreated, even though I fully believe that most of them were unintentional and the fault of incompetence, rather than maliciousness.

I never expected a show with a TV-Y7 rating that was made to sell toys to children to address this character's extensive trauma in any meaningful way. And, perhaps there was a push behind the scenes to sideline him in order to bring Keith to the forefront, due to Keith being the head of Voltron in previous incarnations, and Shiro essentially being a Canon Foreigner created exclusively for this series.

But, when you have: - A poorly executed attempt to recreate Shiro's fight with Zarkon in the Astral Plane, void of the stunning visuals, impressively fluid fight choreography, and emotional and narrative stakes.

(Shiro fighting the show's main villain and his predecessor hand-to-hand for control of one of the most powerful weapons in the universe, vs the Paladins fighting shadowy, faceless foes that none of them- aside from Allura- have any personal connections to or conflict with, even once their identities are revealed, with long-range weapons, inside of Honerva's head.)

- Shiro, the previously "undefeated" Champion of Zarkon's gladiatorial arena and a highly trained and skilled martial artist, being slapped across the bridge of his own ship.

-Shiro's personal abuser telling him that the arm that was forcibly grafted onto his body in an attempt to turn him into a weapon for the Galra Empire is "the strongest part" of him,

Slav, an ally, echoing the sentiment and arguing that Shiro would be "even stronger with two robotic arms", and the first half of Season Seven confirming as much by depicting Shiro standing, often completely mute, on the sidelines

until he's outfitted with a new prosthetic arm. Only then is he actively allowed to participate in combat, again, and promoted to Captain of the Atlas.

-Shiro winning an intergalactic arm wrestling tournament to prove that he isn't a washed-up retiree (at the ripe old age of twenty-six), with that prosthetic.

-Said prosthetic being a mirror of his abuser's.

-No acknowledgement of Shiro's essence being transferred into the body of his clone that is down an arm. Or, how he's coping with not only not having a right arm at all, but also having been dead for a huge chunk of time, trapped inside the consciousness of the Black Lion and watching on helplessly as someone wearing his face tried to kill everyone he loves, and then resurrected to be suddenly "retired" through no choice of his own.

-Aside, of course, from an all-too lighthearted and chipper comment on routine helping him get through "being in the infinite void of the Black Lion", and a throwaway quip about how "having my consciousness transplanted from the infinity of Voltron's inner quintessence into the dead body of an evil clone of myself" has left him "a little out of sorts".

-And, Shiro not getting to kill his abuser, or even best him in combat.

Instead, he lies beaten and helpless, once again, as Keith, his replacement, takes Sendak out.

It crosses the line from clumsy writing to infuriating negligence and ineptitude.

The repeated violations of Shiro's autonomy, and what seems by all rights to be unintended ableism, even though it borders on outright disrespectful, went above and beyond any terrible writing and direction that I anticipated gritting my teeth and slogging through when I decided to finally bite the bullet and watch this show. It's utterly baffling to me that no one seemed to stop and realize that, "Hey, maybe introducing and then reinforcing the sentiment that a disabled man's prosthetic is the 'strongest part' of him, and he's effectively weak and useless without it, is a bad idea", at any point in the creative process before these episodes made it to air.

I wholeheartedly believe that as much as other characters were wronged, Voltron: Legendary Defender and its notoriously hellish fanbase that was more concerned with who these characters were having sex with than the actual plot, did not deserve Takashi Shirogane.

Shiro; a gay man, ace pilot, ambitious space explorer, and scarred trauma survivor who was abducted and forced to kill for the entertainment of his captors, subjected to unimaginable torture, and had his body modified without his knowledge or consent twice, yet never let any of his experiences, no matter how grueling or dehumanizing, stop him from being gentle, compassionate, noble, brave, self-sacrificing, and everything that epitomizes a True Hero, right to the bitter end.

[runnning-outof-time]

Better Than the Dream | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: After meeting in France, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tommy Shelby were certain that they'd never see each other again...until one fateful moment has Tommy dreaming of her, or maybe he's not dreaming at all.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, talk of war, injuries, blood, hospitals

Word Count: 3388

A/N: I….I’m not sure how I feel about this one…as I was finishing it, I realized that it was like my other story ‘Called to Serve’, even though there are some differences to the story. I decided to set it after Tommy’s injury in season 2. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: also I’m sorry this is being posted late…I didn’t have much time to get it edited today.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Would you stop fucking wincing? You're gonna get that bloody thing stuck into me hand as well," Tommy grumbled as he continued to hold down pressure on his fellow soldier's hand so that he wouldn't bleed out anymore than he had already.

"I'm trying me best, Sergeant Major...it really fucking stings though," Donny, the unfortunate one who'd gotten barbed wire stuck in his hand while their company was on overhaul, responded, the second half of his words coming out like a hiss as he winced yet again.

The curtain that was separating the bed and chair these two men were occupying moved before Tommy could say anything else. From behind it came a woman, dressed in a nurse's outfit with a clipboard in her hands. "Donald White?" she asked as she looked up from the papers, a polite smile on her face.

"That'd be me," Donny responded, raising his good hand as he spoke, "me Sergeant Major's come with me...he needed to make sure the bleeding was controlled," he added then, explaining the other man's presence.

"Hi," she sent a nod and a smile in his direction, almost immediately noticing the pair of ocean blue eyes he had. She had to look back at the patient so that she didn't get sucked into them. "What's happened here?" she asked then, focusing on the injury.

"We were doing overhaul and I got this section of barbed wire stuck in me hand. Most of it was able to be removed, but there's still some left inside," Donny explained. Tommy let go of the cloth he'd been applying pressure to so that Donny could unwrap it and show the nurse the extent of the injury.

The woman nodded almost immediately after seeing the damage that had been done. It was pretty obvious that there was at least one barb and some wire still stuck in his palm. "I'm going to get the doctor to come over...he'll be able to extract it," she explained the next steps of treatment as she went about writing some things down on the clipboard.

"You've an English accent," Donny pointed out, a bit of a smile forming on his face. Neither he, nor Tommy, were expecting to hear one in a French run hospital.

"I do," the nurse answered, laughing slightly.

"Where're ya from?" Donny asked.

"Solihull," she answered with a polite smile.

"Ahh, ok," Donny nodded.

"I'm going to get the doctor now so that he can have a look at your hand. My name's (Y/N), if you need anything," she addressed both of the soldiers then, sending them one last smile before she turned and exited the closed off area.

Donny turned to Tommy with a grin seconds after (Y/N) had exited the room they were in. "She's fuckin' gorgeous, ain't she?" he asked, nudging Tommy's arm with his good hand. Tommy finally brought his eyes away from the section of curtain (Y/N) had exited through to look at his comrade. He didn't have to say anything, because the second Donny saw his face, he was speaking again, "yeah, she is...got you too stunned to speak," he ragged on his superior like they were part of the same rank again, and all Tommy could do was roll his eyes.

He wasn't going to deny something that was as obvious as the light of day. Their company had been given a week-long reprieve, and even though they were only one day into it, Tommy knew that he wasn't going to see a woman that was more beautiful than her. So he kept his mouth shut and listened to Donny's goading, allowing him some time to soak it up while he was injured.

——

Tommy returned to the same wing that he'd left his fellow soldier in two days ago, keeping his eyes peeled for the woman who he couldn't seem to get out of his mind since she left the room the other day. He, thankfully, found her, standing at one of the nurse's stations at the end of the hall.

"(Y/N), isn't it?" he asked as he approached her, successfully getting her attention.

"It is," she answered as she turned to smile at him, "what is it, Sergeant Major? Are you looking for Donny?" she asked, her voice sounding like sweet music to his ears.

"I'm not...was looking for you actually," he answered her, not caring how straightforward he sounded.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly out of surprise when she heard his statement. "Me?" she checked to make sure, tilting her head slightly to show her interest in the answer.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "I was wondering if you'd want to go out and get a drink after your shift's finished?" he boldly asked her. A more pronounced look of surprise formed on (Y/N)'s face. That immediately made Tommy backtrack, "that might have been a bit too forward of me. I haven't even asked if you have someone, or if you're busy."

"No, it's fine," (Y/N) brushed him off, "I quite like the confidence actually," she added then, flashing a smile and letting out a slight laugh.

"So you'd be willing to join me?" he asked her, allowing a smile to form on his face. Her laugh, much like her voice, was music to his ears.

(Y/N) nodded before giving a verbal answer, "yes. My shift finishes at the top of the hour."

"I'll meet you outside," Tommy suggested, making her nod again. He nodded back, showing that he was happy that the plans had been finalized, before he decided he'd let her get back to work. "Which room was Donny in actually?" he asked her after she'd taken a few steps away from him.

She turned around to smile at him. "So you weren't only here for me?" she decided to tease him slightly.

"No. Just figured I'd see him while I'm here," he grinned, loving her attitude and the fact that she was able to banter with him despite everything going on around them.

"He's four doors down," she told him, pointing past him down the hallway.

"Thank you," he said to her, nodding one last time before he turned and went to his comrade's room.

—

"Are you only here because of Donny?" (Y/N) asked once their laughter caused by a story Tommy had told trailed off. She had her head rested on her arm that was propped up on the bar, and she was giving Tommy her full attention.

"No," he shook his head, looking briefly down at his glass as he let out a soft scoff, "we were granted a week's leave and sent into town instead of home...someone thought it'd be less money to keep us close. Cheap bastards," he explained then, muttering the final two words under his breath.

"Donny's having a terrible week off then," she commented, remembering the man that had come into her ward the other day.

"He managed to do it while we were doing overhaul," he shared another detail about the accident with her.

"Tough luck," (Y/N) stated, shaking her head as a look of sympathy formed on her face.

"That's Donny for you," Tommy responded, chuckling slightly at the thought of his friend.

"So where do they have you staying?" she asked him then, moving their conversation to another topic.

"A boarding house in town," he answered before adding, "it's an absolute shit hole."

(Y/N) sent him a sympathetic smile before looking at the bar. "I don't have anyone," she said out of nowhere, her statement shifting the topic of conversation yet again.

"What?" Tommy asked her, his brows furrowed as he looked at her once more. He was confused by her sudden statement, unsure of how to link it to what they'd been talking about.

"You said before that you hadn't asked if I had someone...I don't," she filled him in, calling back to the statement that he'd made at the hospital. Tommy nodded his head in response to her statement and looked at his glass again. Silence fell between them for a moment before she spoke again: "do you have anyone?" she asked him, her question making his eyes snap to hers in seconds.

He looked her over, his brows slightly furrowed in surprise. He didn't expect her to ask such a question. But he wasn't going to waste time answering it. "No," he told her, shaking his head for extra measure.

(Y/N) felt her throat go dry at his answer. Am I really going to do this? she asked herself, taking a moment to think her choices over. "It might be a bit forward of me to ask this, but..." she trailed off, thinking over it again. Ah, why not? "Would you like to come home with me tonight?" she asked her question, rushing to get in: "it'd give you a chance to sleep in a proper bed," so that her intentions weren't that out there in the open.

Who could blame her though? Almost all of the men around her age living here had gone off to fight as well. There wasn't anyone left, and as much as she hated to admit it...she still had desires too. And the fact that Tommy was a good looking man greatly helped the cause.

Tommy looked her over again after hearing her proposition. A grin ghosted over his lips as he nodded his head slightly before answering, "I would like that."

His answer made the fire that (Y/N) had been feeling in her stomach since the moment he'd found her today begin to burn out of control. She couldn't help but exude a giggle, feeling giddy that her attempt had actually worked.

"Would you...want to get out of here now?" Tommy asked her then, trailing off in the middle of his sentence, but completing it before she could interject with anything.

"Yes," her answer was said in a breathless manner, but he heard her loud and clear, and the two left the bar after paying what they owed.

—

The door to the apartment was barely shut before Tommy had trapped (Y/N) in his arms. It was no secret what the two wanted from each other. The hand holding and shoulder brushing on the walk back made it rather clear. But still, his kiss took (Y/N)'s breath away, and the way that her hands were roaming his body made Tommy feel dizzy; something he hadn't felt with the women he'd been with before.

Every night for the rest of the week ended that way for Tommy and (Y/N). He would come to the hospital to check in on Donny and then would wait around for the rest of (Y/N)'s shift until she could leave. They'd go to the tavern for some drinks before winding up at her apartment again; where they'd end the night wrapped up in each others' arms.

It was a nice arrangement, one that lasted right up until Tommy came to the hospital at the end of the week. Donny was being released after his stay (his hand had thankfully healed without infection) and their unit was due to move onto another station. Which meant that it was time for Tommy and (Y/N) to say goodbye.

The two soldiers were walking down the hallway when (Y/N) exited one of the rooms she was cleaning. Her eyes immediately found Tommy, and they widened visibly. Without thinking, she backed up into the room in hopes that he wouldn't have seen her. But the knock on the door told her otherwise. Of course, she let him in.

"I wanted to say goodbye...before we shipped out to our next station," Tommy started, a solemn look on his face. Spending time with her this past week was the closest to normal he'd gotten in a long time.

"I appreciate that," (Y/N) answered, a sad smile forming on her face as her eyes met his for a moment. She didn't have it in her to hold his gaze for it might have made her start to cry.

"This past week was lovely, (Y/N)," he told her, taking her hands into his. "Thank you."

"I enjoyed it too," she answered, her heart squeezing as she admitted this. It was making the situation all the more real.

"C-can I kiss you one last time?" he asked her then, wanting to kick himself for how juvenile he sounded.

"Please," she breathed quicker than she would have liked, but the timing didn't phase Tommy. Upon hearing her answer, he dropped her hands and grabbed her cheeks, pulling her to him for one last head-spinning kiss. They broke away moments after, their foreheads finding each other. "Goodbye, Tommy," (Y/N) was the first to speak, and she hated that her voice cracked when she said these two words.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)," he repeated her farewell, lifting his head so that he could press his lips to her forehead before he dropped his hands from her completely.

They offered each other a sad smile before he exited the room, leaving her alone once again.

"So that's why you were coming to see me every bloody day, eh?" Donny questioned with a wide grin on his face once Tommy was back by his side.

"Fuck off, Donny," Tommy grumbled, not in the mood for the banter.

"Ahh, I get it. It's hard to leave," Donny commented, picking up the signals that Tommy was putting down.

The two walked out of the hospital then without saying another word to each other. Back inside, (Y/N) had to put a smile back onto her face before she re-entered the hallway, even though she was hurting because she knew she’d never see Tommy Shelby again.

——

—1921—

Tommy was slipping in and out of consciousness as he was carried by stretcher into the hospital. He couldn't remember much from the beating he’d gotten; just that Sabini had been standing over him, grinning, as one of his men aimed a revolver at him. The Italians then scattered after another weapon was fired, and Campbell became visible before he blacked out completely.

He knew he was at a hospital now. The blinding, overhead lights of the operating room easily gave it away. There were doctors working on him. He could just barely feel their prodding as they tried to figure out the extent of his injuries. Every inch of his body hurt. It hurt just to think, and he couldn’t bear it much longer. So he closed his eyes and allowed complete blackness to overtake him.

The room was much darker when Tommy woke again. He looked around as best as he could, trying to get familiar with his surroundings. Things were starting to come together when he felt something touch his cheek. He jerked his face away before quickly turning his head to see (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with a rag in her hands. She looked worried, but not put off by his sudden movement.

"You...you found me again?" Tommy stammered, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. It was slowly becoming apparent to him that he was in her apartment in France.

"You were attacked. They brought you here," she explained to him while dipping the rag into a bowl, "I need to get you cleaned up." He nodded and allowed her to continue on with what she was doing.

"Can I hold you again?" he asked after silence had been hanging between them for a few moments.

She looked around the room for a moment, which Tommy found odd. "You can," she then answered, and he wasted no time in opening his arms for her. She smiled before moving into them.

Tommy inhaled her scent as she settled in his arms. He found it odd that he couldn't really feel her, but he didn't think too much into it. He had her again. "Can I stay here with you forever?" he asked after they'd been still for a few minutes.

(Y/N) giggled as she heard his question. "I'm not sure if you'd be allowed to..." she trailed off, her smile a sight for his sore eyes.

"What do you mean?" he furrowed his brows, confused by her response.

"Wake up, Tommy," she said to him, her statement confusing him even more. In what way is that a response to my question? he wondered, but yet he couldn't ask her because she was speaking again, "Tommy..." this time her statement was accompanied with a slight shake.

Things got much brighter in the room then, so bright that it made Tommy squeeze his eyes shut. He couldn't handle the pain that it was causing in his head. When he opened his eyes again, everything was different. He was no longer in (Y/N)'s apartment, instead he was in what looked to be a rather large hospital room. He was laying down instead of sitting, and he didn't have his arms around the woman he couldn't seem to erase from his mind. But she was still in front of him.

"(Y/N)..." he said her name, his voice still groggy. He felt a heaviness in his hand and it made him glance down to find that he was holding hers. "Wha...how are you here?" he asked, his confusion apparent in his words.

"I'm your nurse, Tommy," she answered him, throwing the formalities out the window. She felt that they were past all of that.

"Are we still in France?" he asked her next. This hospital seemed to be in much better condition than the one he remembered meeting her in, but it was the only way he could make this make sense.

"No," she shook her head softly, a gentle smile on her face. This information made Tommy's brow furrowed in confusion. "I think you were having a dream, Tommy," (Y/N) spoke up when she noticed his expression.

"But you're still here..." he trailed off, voicing the part that he was most confused about. He was unsure in saying it though because he didn't want her to disappear when he admitted this observation.

"I moved from Solihull after a position opened up. I work here now," she explained to him, her answer making his confusion dissipate. He simply nodded at this new information, taking a moment to think about what it meant.

Silence fell between them after she finished speaking, and she took that as her go ahead to complete some of the tests that she was required to run.

Tommy was the one to speak after a few minutes had passed, "so you're in Birmingham for good now?" he questioned her, watching intently as she continued checking him.

"I am," she answered, not losing focus on what she was doing. Another period of silence began. (Y/N) waited until she was finished with her tasks before she looked at him again. "So the dream you had..." she started off, unsure of how she'd word the question that had been burning in her mind since he came to, "is me being here better, or worse?"

Tommy chuckled slightly at her question, "oh this is better, love. You being here now is way better than the dream," he told her, a grin tugging the corner of his lips upwards. (Y/N) smiled at his admission. "And this may be a bit straightforward, but I wanted to know if I could take you out for dinner?" he asked her then, not wanting to waste any more time in getting them reacquainted with each other, "if you don't have anyone, that is," he added to the end.

(Y/N) giggled slightly as his final statement made her think back to the first night they shared with each other. "I don't have anyone," she started, a smile forming on her face, "and I'd love to have dinner with you, but..." she trailed off then, biting on her bottom lip. Tommy sat up straighter as he waited intently for what she would say next. (Y/N) noticed this and couldn't help but smile as she delivered the rest of her statement, "we need to make sure you get healthy first."

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[yourbloodysunrise]

Hello there ^^ I was wondering I could request a fem reader x Raphael oneshot where the reader is short (height wise) and Raphael teases her to no end, but later realizes he has feelings for her?

🌤 — weell, I don't really good at Raphael writing, but I will try, at least :3

❝ What's so bad about little joke? ❞

— FANDOM: TMNT 2012

— PAIRING: RAPHAEL X SHORT!READER

— ROMANTIC

— ONESHOT

— READER IS FEMALE

— TW: OOC, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, RAPH A ASSHOLE TEENAGER IN THIS ONE

"Why can't you just be quiet?" — you hiss irritably at Raphael, rubbing your temples, feeling that his voice practically gives you a headache. Unfortunately, he is the one who has to patrol the city with you.

It's not that you dislike Raph or anything, but his jokes about your height irritated you to the point of outrage. And even worse, he knew it.

"Whoa, shorty, don't get all worked up."  —Raphael replied with a grin, leaning on the water tower, — "You know it's true!Don't take offense at the truth."

"Raph." — you shushed him, turning to face him, squinting at him with a tired face, — "Two requests: shut up, and keep looking."

"Okay, okay, be calm." — Raph replied with a snort, shrugging his shoulders, turning his head to look down. You stared at him for a couple more seconds before also turning your head away so that you could see what was happening on the street.

Your relationship with Raph was..difficult. On the one hand, Raph almost never got mad at you as with others, and seemed to trust you with his feelings, and you, in turn, treated him with understanding.

But sometimes, when Raphael got particularly bored and Mikey wasn't around, he would start teasing you. And, God, you wouldn't complain if it wasn't so common. Lately, he's been joking about your height almost every time you meet..

You sigh, shaking your head, interrupting your thoughts. He has always had a tendency to sneer at someone, including his family, so it shouldn't be surprising that he does this to you. After all, you're just a friend of the turtles.

For a while, both of you are silent for another twenty minutes, watching the order on the streets, before Raph first break the silence, addressing you, — "How long have we been sitting here?"

You mumble thoughtfully, thinking about this, taking out your t-phone to look at the time. Five in the morning..Did you really listen to Raphael's taunts in your direction for more than five hours while you were patrolling this area?How awful.

"Morning is coming, we will need to return to the lair soon." — you answer, putting t-phone back in your pocket, sitting on the concrete side of the roof, looking down, noticing that life in the city is slowly waking up. Fortunately for you, there are no mutants, ninjas or aliens today.

"Already?!Nothing even happened!" — Raph growls in frustration, involuntarily grimacing in annoyance as his fists clench.

"Well, we don't have to fight every day."

"Augh, come on!It's our job to fight the bad guys!" — Raph exhales, looking at you with his arms outstretched, — "What else should we do?"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. Okay, anyway, the end of the patrol is coming soon, Raphael can handle it without you. It's time for you to take a break from heroism.

"Okay, you know what?I think I deserve my little vacation today." — you speak briefly before getting up from the roof and jumping at a run to another one.

"Uh..Hey, wait, where are you going?!Splinter said you need to stay at the lair!"

"I don't think anything can happen to me if I'll stay at home for one day." - you grin at him, looking at him from a distance, before waving goodbye to him, turning away, — "See you soon, hothead."

You quickly disappeared from his field of vision, hiding on the roofs. Raphael sighed as he jumped down into a dark alley under the building where you were patrolling, climbing under the maintenance hatch.

He wasn't sure why exactly he liked you. At the beginning of your communication, you seemed to him like an ordinary typical girl who always needs protection and is always whining..

But when you turned out to be the absolute opposite, showing interest in ninjitsu and being able to stand up for yourself, you got his interes.

You were cool, beautiful, and damn good at fighting. He'd be lying if he said you weren't his type. Sometimes he felt like he was like Donnie when he thought about you, so gn instantly pushed thoughts of you aside. You're just an ally. Friend. His best friend?

And yet, he was amused by your short height. How can a warrior like you be that..Short?For him, it was just a way to make fun of you, you know, as a friend.

When you were annoyed, the excitement awakened in him, and he continued. At some point, it became something of an entertainment for him.

After all, you won't be offended, will you?It's just a joke!Friendly banter from your friendly friend buddy Raphael. There's nothing wrong with that!

For a second, he wondered if there was a possibility that someday you would really be offended by him for this. That would be the least he wanted..Also, the realization that he would have to apologize to you confused him. After all, how would you react to your cool buddy Raph pathetically apologizing to you for a joke?

Raphael stopped, frowning, shaking his head quickly, as if wanting to shake these thoughts out of his head. What the hell is he thinking?!Of course you won't be offended, what's so bad about little joke?

"Damn…" — he groans in annoyance, slapping his face before walking on with a displeased face.

Why did thinking about you always make him feel so ridiculous and soft?He's acting like some kind of fool in love..

....

Wait. A fool in love. Fool. In love.

Raphael's face fills with mute shock as realization dawns on him..

I'm afraid you'll have to catch avoiding you Raph for have a proper conversation with him.

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤 — yay, I finished it

🌤 — hope you like it, anon, have a good day☆

[mytardisisparked]

Jasmine and Teakwood

While working a case involving perfume, Mulder learns something new about his partner.

Read on AO3

Dana Scully had never understood the logic behind perfume stores; every one she had dared to enter had been so overpoweringly scented she simply couldn’t fathom how anyone was able to actually smell the individual perfumes. The concept was terrible on paper and even worse in execution – add the intense odor to the poor lighting and the overly-familiar salespeople, and the whole experience became a sensory nightmare. 

For her, at least. Her partner, Fox Mulder, seemed to be having the time of his life.

She only half-listened to the droning of the store’s leading expert as she watched Mulder move slowly down the display wall, picking up each bottle for a sniff. He was turned away from her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she saw him shudder at a few of the scents he sampled.

At least he isn’t tasting them, she thought as he moved further away.

She pulled her attention back to the perfumer – a short, wiry man of around 50 years with a low, droning voice – as he leaned over the sample she had brought him from their current case.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, finally coming to a conclusion after rattling off a bunch of information about base notes and floral fragrances. “I believe this came from a bottle of Halberd Number 7.” He went to a nearby shelf and pulled down a bottle of the aforementioned perfume to compare. “Yes, I believe it is this. It’s a local brand, made in West Virginia.”

Scully smiled politely. “Could you give us a location for this business?”

As the man went to write it down for her, she tracked down her wayward partner, who was now four aisles away.

He was considering a couple of bottles. “Scully, do you have a favorite scent?”

With a deep sigh, she folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t really wear perfume. I haven’t had time to find a fragrance I like in the last few years.” And, she added mentally, I can’t stand to be in these stores for longer than 5 minutes.

Mulder nodded sagely. “What about cologne? Any preferences?”

Her brow furrowed. “I– I don’t know.” She turned to see that the perfumer was returning with the address. “Um, teakwood, I guess.”

Scully moved away to speak with the expert, missing the smile on Mulder’s lips and the quick motion as he dabbed a bit of teakwood cologne on the inside of his wrists.

—

Fox Mulder had never really cared for perfume before, especially after dating Phoebe Greene, who had worn what smelled like a quarter of a bottle every single day. 

He had also never really cared for cologne. He had tried a few at different points of his life, but they were often too strong or too subtle.

He wondered if that was the issue now, if the cologne was too faint for Scully to smell. It wasn’t that he needed her to smell it… okay, maybe he did need that. She had said it was her favorite - or was that just a random fragrance she had pulled out of her head to appease him?

Regardless, she wasn’t reacting. He had tried to waft the scent towards her whenever he turned the steering wheel in her direction, but he had about hit a curb attempting that maneuver and decided against trying it again. 

He glanced over at her when they stopped at a light and he realized she was leaning her forehead against the glass, eyes closed and swallowing hard. Her arms were folded around herself. There was a bright flush to her cheeks that would have been pretty if she didn’t also look miserable and pale everywhere else. 

“Scully?” Worry twisted around his chest and burrowed into his stomach. “Are you carsick?” If his stupid maneuver from earlier was contributing to whatever ailed her, he was going to take away his own driver’s license. 

She swallowed again and looked up at him. “No, I just–” she took a deep breath, “I have a headache.” Her lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Perfume stores and I don’t get along.”

Mulder nodded, even as a pang reverberated in his gut. Looking back, he could recall her visible discomfort in the store – her rapid blinking, her flushed cheeks, the way she breathed through her mouth. I should have put it together sooner.

He carefully took the corner as the light switched to green. “Let me take you home, get you some Tylenol.”

“It’s fine, I can–”

He ignored her and turned towards her apartment anyway. 

—

She didn’t react much after that, silently accepting the ride to her apartment building. And his insistence on helping her up the stairs. And the way he settled her on the couch with a blanket, took her shoes off, and brought her a cup of water and some medication. 

He liked doing this for her. There was a domesticity in caring for her headaches and bumps and bruises that made him feel warm, even as his chest ached. 

The fact that she was letting him care for her, that she wasn’t fighting to go lick her wounds by herself in a dark corner, was doing something funny to his chest, too. He didn’t know if it was a testament to their trust or if she was really just that sick, but he was grateful she was allowing him to be here with her.

“What are you doing?” she called out after him as he walked into her kitchen and dug around in her cupboards.

“Warming up some soup. What kind do you want? Looks like you have chicken noodle, creamy tomato penne, Italian wedding-”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He turned from the soups and saw she was standing in the kitchen entryway with the blanket draped over her shoulders, looking very small and very cute.

Mulder smiled. “I know. What kind of soup do you want?”

Her throat bobbed, eyes searching him for a moment. “Italian wedding.”

Without another word, he nodded and pulled the can from the cupboard, turned the stove on, and found a pot.

He wished he could be doing a homemade meal instead. He wished he could go to the store and handpick every ingredient to make this from scratch. He wished he could grow the herbs to put in the soup himself. He wished he could hand-roll dough balls and buy sausage from a little local butchery and pull carrots from a rooftop garden and clean them just for her.

But it was already 6:30 PM and Scully had a headache, so he would have to settle for opening a can and warming it for her.

He heard her settle into a chair at the table behind him and he smiled at the thought of her still snuggled up in her blanket.

The soup was hot and ready in only a few minutes, served in a couple of bowls. Scully’s arms poked out from under her blanket cloak to lift hot spoonfuls to her lips. 

Mulder watched her eat in between his own bites of soup. “So, why don’t you wear perfume? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just curious.”

She glanced up at him for a second. “I used to, back in college, but perfume stores are too overwhelming and its hard to find perfume that lasts from other stores.” She paused for another sip. “It’s no big deal. I’ve survived without for a long time now."

He tilted his head. “I’m kind of surprised you’re sensitive to perfumes. I’ve watched you spend hours with your nose over a dead body like it’s nothing while I’m in the corner gagging and rubbing vicks under my nose.”

To his delight, she huffed out a laugh. “I guess I’m sort of… noseblind to all that. And it’s not like individual perfumes bother me, unless they’re applied too liberally. Just the stores give me trouble, with all that scent mixed together in a great cacophony.” She shrugged. 

“I guess that makes sense.” He grinned. “Or, scents .”

She caught his wordplay and rolled her eyes, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “I know it’s kind of contradictory.”

“It is.” He smiled. “But bodies are like that sometimes. I knew a guy who hated the texture of bread because it stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he also loved croissants.”

“Those are almost the same texture.”

“Exactly.”

They ate quietly again for another moment.

“That cologne you put on smells nice.”

He glanced up at her. She was still looking at her soup, stirring it.

“Thanks.”

—

A few days later, the case was wrapped up and Scully was working on her report to Skinner. 

Mulder glided through the door, coat billowing in his self-generated breeze and a brown paper bag hanging from his hand.

He looked pleased with himself, which could be a good or bad thing.

Scully sat back in their desk chair, taking him in as he set the bag down in front of her and took off his coat. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and a coloring to his cheeks that made her chest feel warm suddenly.

“Morning Scully. I got you a little something to celebrate our victory.”

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little excited that he got her a present, but she maintained her reserved expression. “You never get me presents when we solve a case.”

He stopped moving and tilted his head. “Sure I do. Usually it’s food.”

“Is this food?” She pointed at the bag. 

“Not this time. Switching it up. Keeping you guessing.”

His smile was so bright and earnest that she couldn’t help but smile back as she reached for the bag. Mulder eagerly slid into the seat on the other side of the desk as she pawed it open and reached inside.

She pulled out a small, cylindrical bottle of perfume with a gold lid.

“I went back to that store we visited for the case. You don’t have to wear it if it bothers you but...” He suddenly looked – rather endearingly – nervous.

Scully's lips twisted in a small smile as she gave the little bottle a sniff. "Mm. Jasmine."

Mulder nodded. "It's my favorite scent."

Scully's stomach wound itself in a knot for a moment at the idea that he had bought his favorite scent for her, that he wanted her to wear it. She capped the bottle and set it down, searching for something else to say that wouldn't add to the tightness in her chest. "I like it, too. It, um, reminds me of my shampoo."

She snuck a glance at him and found that he was looking at her with a sort of warm intensity. She couldn't look away as he said, very seriously: "I know."

Her cheeks flooded with heat as he stood and turned away, leaving her to ponder what exactly that was supposed to mean.

[a-small-tragedy]

And so... Hi!

Usually my name is Korzh, but you can call me Bernard! My pronouns are he/his. You may know me from the Topher art. But recently I had posts written about me with extremely dubious content and I want to refute these disgusting accusations in my direction. 

Let's get right to the point, I'm NOT a PROSHIPPER AND I'VE NEVER BEEN ONE.

The first and most terrible is the accusation of pedo content. I've always drawn characters older than they are in the show. I myself am very uncomfortable with sexual undertonesbetween 16-year-olds, so I made them older for my comfort. That being said, the characters both on my nsfw artworks as well as regular ones are OF AGE!

Also, in my defense, I want to show a post that I made the DAY BEFORE.

Context: I drew my favorite characters dynamics, but some people started commenting adult and child pairs, so I made a post.

Translation: JULY 5TH 9:54 Guys, if there is a child or an animal in your ship dynamics, then I may have questions for you...  Just a warning, I never thought that it would be necessary to introduce a rule for this, in my group!

I tried to be as correct and gentle in my statements as possible, because I couldn't know for sure with which intent these characters were shown in the first place. But later I realized that it was just a misunderstanding, I did not indicate that it was a romantic relationship, people misunderstood me, so I deleted the post :D

But as you can see, I'm generally AGAINST THIS KIND OF STUFF.

Speaking of misunderstandings.....I was also accused of Transphobia based on a deleted post.

Probably not everyone knows, but I am trans myself! It was very hard to accept, because I was constantly faced with transphobia in my address from people in reality and the Internet.

As for the deleted post, it really looks terrible. The fact is that unfortunately, while writing, I mixed two ideas at once( The first one was that I can't really imagine Topher being in a relationship with a girl. The second one was supposed to tell about the ideas for an art with T Joan and T Topher.

But in the process of writing, I couldn't formulate the idea correctly, and it turned out like THIS... IT WASN'T UNTIL A FEW MINUTES LATER THAT I REALIZED WHAT I HAD DONE AND I WAS REALLY SORRY, SO I DELETED THE POST SO AS NOT TO UPSET PEOPLE. My trans friend reassured me that it didn't hurt her, but I still felt terrible, so I completely refused to implement that idea.

I'm really sorry about that post, but I didn't think that people would just take it out of context and want to cancel me without understanding the situation. Now I understand that I should have apologized for it right away. But what happened happened.

Also I tried to contact these people just to talk, but the only person who knows their contacts refused to help.

Addition: Some people on Twitter pointed out my nationality, yes, I am Russian and do not support the authorities in my country. WELL, APPARENTLY, NOT EVERYONE KNOWS THAT 2 OUT OF 3 PEOPLE WHO WROTE THE POST WITH THE CANCELLATION ARE RUSSIANS THEMSELVES. AHAHAHAHAHAH Addition 2: Already at the time of writing, the authors of the post compared me to a real terrible person and began to blackmail me by setting conditions. I can't describe how disgusted I am with this whole situation. Shall these words and actions be on their own responsibility, if they have any left. To the rest, thank you for reading and taking the time! Your support has helped me to deal with this. Special thanks to everyone who helped translate this text ahahah, I'm really not very good at this... If you have any questions, you can ask them in the comments or an anonymous ask!  Bye!

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Six

Prompt: Halcyon Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Estinien Varlineau, Bayarmaa Sagahl Word Count: 788 Notes: Digimon AU

Master List

Visits from Estinien had become common enough at the hospital that when he passed it this time around, he had to take pause. As he stared at it, Gonetomon huffed in thought, his breath becoming steam in the winter air. Where Estinien would have taken the time to visit Nomin, he remembered the text he had received just a couple days ago.

‘I'm finally being released from the hospital!’

A small, gentle smile crept across Estinien’s lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued on his way. His response at the time asked her if she had plans on celebrating at all.

‘I'd like to! But only if you celebrate with me!’

And so, Estinien received an address and a date. On the map on his phone, the address showed a grocery store front called ‘Buckthorn’ -- odd, but he doubted Nomin was leading him astray. He was thankful, however, that he only needed to use the bus as he normally would have coming to this part of town.

Passing the hustle and bustle of the daytime hours, Estinien eventually found his way to the unmistakable storefront. He had never been here before -- it looked like a humble grocery market. Pulling on the door, he and Gonetomon stepped inside as the electric bell signaled his entry.

“Welcome to Buckthorn!” one of the employees called out. Estinien only slightly brought up a hand out of habit in greeting. However, the employee caught sight of Gonetomon and gasped before hurrying her way over. “You're Nomin’s friend that visited her in the hospital! Oh, thank you for that! She was so elated to have a friend come by and keep her company as visiting hours allowed.”

For a moment, Estinien was a bit too flustered to speak, only casting a brief glance in Gonetomon's direction. When he looked at the woman again, he realized he had seen her before -- once. She had been leaving the oncology ward a while back. When he saw Nomin that day, she had some stuff from home brought to her by her…

“You're Nomin’s sister…?” Estinien asked.

“The one and only,” the woman replied with a grin. She then grabbed her name pin, emphasizing it for a moment. “The name's Bayarmaa. But, goodness me, I shouldn't keep you here. Nomin and Teiamon are upstairs with some of their other friends and Digimon.”

With that, Bayarmaa pointed in the direction of a door marked ‘No entry’. Estinien then put two and two together: this building was a joint business front and home.

Bayarmaa leaned in slightly, dropping her voice to a whisper, and bringing the back of her hand to shield a side of her mouth. “You can just walk right in and go. No key necessary or anything. VIP access,” Bayarmaa said, giving a playful wink before straightening up, her voice returning to a normal volume. “I have more things to organize and stock, but try not to have too much fun up there! I need to make sure I can also enjoy my baby sister's release from the hospital, too, y'know!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have her all to yourself soon, I’m sure,” Estinien said, attempting to keep his tone lighthearted.

With discussion coming to a close, Estinien and Gonetomon both made their way for the door indicated, opening it and then heading up the stairwell. Chatter could already be heard from above, and as Estinien crested the top of the stairs, he saw a living area with a kitchen on the opposite side, a counter to separate the two areas. The sofa in the living area had three people on it, one he recognized, and the other two he did not. On the floor were two other people, as well as a number of other Digimon.

Nomin’s gaze immediately met Estinien’s as he appeared, and her already radiant smile became even more so, that elation making itself evident even within the crinkle of her eyes. At that moment, Estinien felt his heart skip a beat. He had often seen Nomin with a medical mask on, so her smile was not often one he got to see anywhere except reflected in her eyes.

“Sorry for not getting up to greet you, but…it’s really nice to see you, Estinien!” Nomin chirped. All that time in the hospital meant that she still needed physical therapy to combat some of the atrophying that came with being bedridden.

“N-No, it’s fine. I get it. I, uh…” Estinien glanced from Nomin to the others in the room. The overall vibe was joy and relief for having Nomin back; it cast a palpably halcyon atmosphere. “Sorry that it looks like I’m late.”

“I’m just glad you made it!” Nomin replied.