#also rare moment: I use punctuation in a post

[gf2bellamy]

love — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer accidentally reveals your secret relationship by kissing you in front of the whole team—oh, and blurting out “I love you” for the very first time, too. content warnings: secret relationship , mention of a case , spencer being very worried about the unsub and case but its mostly fluff !! a/n: haiiii !!!!! hope you didn't miss my secret relationship fanfics too much </3 also i finished writing this like 10 minutes ago but i was too excited not to post it

Things were heating up.

You were getting closer—so close—to catching the unsub. The map was sprawled across the table in front of you, dotted with red circles.You traced another location with your marker, murmuring quietly under your breath, a habit you'd most definitely picked up from your boyfriend.

Spencer was nearby, slouched in a chair, mumbling to himself in a similar fashion.

His brows were furrowed. You could tell this case was hitting him harder than most. Maybe it reminded him of something—or someone.

Whatever it was, it weighed on him, and that meant it weighed on you, too.

You took care of him as much as you could—though it wasn’t easy with your relationship still hidden from the team. Last night, you’d slipped into his hotel room after everyone else had turned in, finding him already buried in files.

You didn’t ask if he was okay—he wouldn’t have answered honestly. Instead, you’d wordlessly sat beside him on the bed, running your fingers through his hair until his shoulders finally relaxed.

“Want to cuddle?” you’d murmured, and he hadn’t even hesitated before nodding, letting you pull him down against the pillows. He’d tucked himself under your chin, his breath warm against your collarbone, and you’d held him, fingers carding gently through his curls until his breathing evened out.

Of course, sneaking out at 6 a.m. had been its own mission. It took you twenty minutes to escape Spencer’s sleepy, koala-like grip. He kept murmuring thank-yous against your skin—kisses trailing from your collarbones to your jaw, like punctuation marks of affection. It had taken everything in you not to crawl back into bed with him.

Now, back in the briefing room, you had even more reason to catch this unsub.

"I got it." Spencer’s voice broke through the silence.

His head snapped up, and the words came pouring out of him like a dam breaking. Facts, patterns, dates, connections. The rest of the team, who had been working in exhausted silence, immediately turned their attention to him, hanging onto every word.

“Okay. Morgan and Reid—I want you with me,” Hotch announced the moment Spencer finished unraveling the unsub’s pattern.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, sending the coordinates to their phones in a flurry of clicks. This was one of those rare, high-stakes cases where even she had to join them in the field. “Location’s live on your devices,” she said, her usual bubbly tone subdued.

Hotch gave her a curt nod of thanks before striding toward the door, Morgan right behind him.

Spencer, however, seemed miles away as he snatched his brown coat from the back of his chair. His mind was already elsewhere, locked onto the unsub.

Then, just before following the others, he turned to you.

You were still standing by the board, capping the dry-erase marker with a soft click and watching him with a soft, worried smile. He seemed exhausted.

“Be careful,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping back into himself for just a second, and mumbled, “I’ll be okay. I’ll see you later.”

His fingers caught your chin, thumb beneath your jaw, index curled gently under your bottom lip. Time stuttered. His kiss was fleeting, achingly tender, and then his lips brushed yours again as he whispered, "I love you," like it was the simplest truth in the world.

And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

A pin drop would’ve echoed like a gunshot.

And then—

“Oh. my. god.” Garcia’s shriek could’ve shattered glass.

Your fingers flew to your lips, still tingling from the ghost of his kiss. The rest of the team was frozen—Rossi’s eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline, JJ’s mouth was slightly open, and Emily looked like she was torn between laughing and demanding an immediate explanation.

But you barely registered any of it.

Because Spencer had just said I love you.

For the first time.

And he’d done it in front of everyone.

Garcia was already flailing her hands, rapid-fire questions spilling out of her—“Since when? How did I not know? Oh my god, the touching, the lingering looks, the—!”

But all you could hear was the echo of his voice, playing over and over in your mind like a broken record.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your face burned. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

You didn’t even notice Emily waving her hand in front of your face until her voice cut through the haze. “Earth to lovergirl,” she teased, grinning.

Blinking, you turned toward the team—all of them staring at you with varying degrees of shock, amusement, and sheer anticipation.

“What?” you managed, voice still breathless.

“That’s all you have to say?” JJ asked, plopping onto the edge of the desk in disbelief. She grabbed a Cheeto from an open bag, crunching loudly.

Garcia was still gaping at you, hands pressed dramatically over her mouth. Behind her colorful glasses, her eyes were massive. Rossi sipped his coffee slowly, clearly judging the entire situation.

“Huh?” you repeated dumbly.

Emily’s smirk softened just a fraction. “You okay?”

You stared at her, still dazed, before muttering, “He said ‘I love you.’”

Another beat of silence.

Garcia gasped. “That was his first time saying it?” Her hands flew away from her mouth, gripping the sides of her head like she might explode.

And then chaos. Again.

“Oh my god—”

“Since when—”

“Wait, wait, wait—that was the first—”

You spent what felt like hours fielding an avalanche of questions, barely able to catch your breath between them. At first, you tried to dodge them—played dumb, gave vague smiles, busied yourself with the files on the table—but it was pointless. Garcia saw straight through you, pinning you with a look that practically screamed, You’re not getting out of this, sweetheart.

So you caved.

“Six months,” you said quietly.

The collective gasp could’ve knocked over the coffee pot.

Garcia clutched her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. ( She was. ) “Six?! Six whole months? And you didn’t say anything?”

You winced. “We were trying to be subtle.”

“You failed!” she cried, throwing her hands up.

Emily laughed. “Okay, next—who made the first move?”

You hesitated, cheeks burning. “He did.”

Another round of dramatic gasps echoed around the room. Even Rossi raised his brows, murmuring, “Didn’t peg him for the bold one.”

“He’s… not. Not usually,” you admitted with a smile you couldn’t quite suppress. “But with me… I guess he was.”

And on it went—question after question, as if they were making up for six months of missed gossip in a single sitting. But despite your initial resistance, you couldn’t deny the warm buzz beneath your skin. It was messy, chaotic, borderline embarrassing—but it was also kind of nice. Being known. Being happy.

Then came the final question.

JJ’s voice was quieter than the others, softer. “Do you love him too?”

You froze.

For a moment, the whole room seemed to hold its breath. Even Garcia stopped typing.

You looked at JJ—then down at your hands—then back up again. And nodded.

Garcia screeched, practically launching herself out of her chair. “I knew it!” she howled.

Emily beamed, her smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes, and even Rossi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like a proud, mildly exasperated uncle.

You were a little overwhelmed—okay, maybe a lot—but underneath the chaos, you also felt a sheer amount of happiness that you've never felt before.

Hotch interrupted the moment by calling Garcia. “Unsub’s in custody. We’re on our way back. Everyone’s okay.”

Your breath left you in a rush. Spencer was okay.

Your heart, though—it hadn’t quite gotten the message. It was still thundering in your chest, hammering against your ribs with every second that ticked by.

The others must’ve noticed the way you kept glancing at the door, because JJ finally nudged you gently toward it. “Go wait. We’ll clean up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Garcia waved a dismissive hand. “Honey, please. You’ve got heart-eyes so intense it’s blinding. Go stand dramatically in the doorway like you’re in a movie or something. We’ve got this.”

And so you did.

You found yourself hovering in the doorway of the conference room, a half-hearted folder in your hands, pretending to sort through paperwork as you stared through the glass. Watching. Waiting.

Then you heard it—the low rumble of the SUV pulling up outside.

Every head in the room snapped up like it was choreographed. Honestly, for a team of professional FBI agents, they acted like a bunch of high schoolers most of the time.

You glanced back over your shoulder. Sure enough, all of them were watching you, wide-eyed and waiting like you were the final act in a romantic drama. You rolled your eyes with a half-smile, dropped the stack of files onto the table with a soft thud, and walked out of the conference room.

As you left, you heard Emily mutter, “Garcia, don’t follow her.”

You didn’t wait to hear the response.

The moment you reached the main hallway of the precinct, the doors opened—and there he was.

Spencer stepped inside, his curls slightly mussed, cheeks flushed from the cold, and as soon as his eyes found yours, he smiled. That gentle, crooked smile that always made you smile.

You barely registered Derek behind him, hand gripping the cuffed unsub and throwing you a confused look when you didn’t even acknowledge him. Even Hotch glanced over in surprise as you made a beeline for Spencer.

“Hey—wait, what—?” Spencer managed, eyes widening as you grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the corridor.

You shoved open the nearest empty office, tugged him inside, and closed the door firmly behind you, leaning back against it.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, your voice urgent, breath a little uneven.

Spencer blinked. “Mean what?”

You stared at him in stunned disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” he said again, completely baffled. “What did I do? Did Morgan tell you about what happened in the field? I know I wasn’t supposed to go near the unsub without backup, but I swear, I had it under control—”

He started to ramble, hands gesturing as he pouted in that way he did when he was simultaneously nervous and a little too proud of himself. “He had a weapon, but I de-escalated him. You would’ve been proud.”

“You did what?” you interrupted, your mind now juggling two emotional crises.

Spencer blinked again. “Wait—so Morgan didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you muttered, your voice flat with disbelief. 

You shook your head slowly, trying to process it all. The nerves, the kiss, the I love you—and the fact that Spencer genuinely hadn’t realized what he’d done.

Spencer’s expression shifted from confusion to concern in a heartbeat. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Did I do something wrong?”

His voice was careful, gentle, and far too kind for how scrambled your brain felt. “Can you tell me what it is?” he added, tilting your chin up just enough so your eyes met his.

Your mouth opened slightly, but the words were stuck. How could he not know? How could he be looking at you like that—all wide eyes and soft brows and worried lips—and not know?

“Spencer,” you said finally, his name sharp on your tongue.

“Yes?” he replied immediately, those puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours like he was bracing for impact.

“You kissed me.”

His brows pulled together. “I’m—I’m sorry?” he said, clearly confused.

If you weren’t so worked up, you might have laughed at his face. But your heart was hammering, and your nerves were tangled in knots.

“You did it in front of everyone,” you clarified.

And then you said it—softly, barely above a whisper. “And then you said—”

“I love you.” His voice cut in before you could finish.

You watched as the memory clearly snapped back into place. Realization washed over his face like a wave, followed immediately by a bright, burning blush that crept up his neck and across his cheeks.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding slowly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you studied his reaction.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wide, flustered in a way that only made you want to kiss him senseless. “Oh,” he breathed, glancing away for a second before meeting your eyes again. 

“Yeah… oh.” you repeated. Both of you stayed silent for a second.

“I did mean it,” he stammered out.

A smile tugged at your lips—finally. After an hour and a half of bouncing knees, chewed lips, and an anxiety storm running circles in your chest, the words you’d been dying to hear had finally landed.

“I love you,” Spencer repeated, a little firmer this time—like he needed to hear it aloud again to make it real. Like maybe saying it twice would help his brain catch up to his heart.

The warmth that bloomed inside you was instant. Like sunshine pouring into your bloodstream. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt this happy in your entire life.

Then, of course, Spencer kept talking.

“Did I say it too soon? I’m not sure. On average, men say it around three to three and a half months into a relationship, while women usually wait closer to four months,” he rambled, already blushing furiously, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “And I know we’ve been dating for six months, so technically it took me twice as long, which isn’t statistically ideal, but honestly I almost said it on our first date, which definitely wouldn’t have been optimal and—”

He was spiraling. Fast.

So you did the only thing that would shut him up.

You stepped forward, gently grabbed his face in both hands, and said, soft but certain:

“I love you too, Spencer.”

He stared.

Just stared—like he was trying to memorize this exact moment, burn it into his brain with all its warmth and disbelief and wonder. You watched his expression shift—first stunned, then relieved, then something so bright and boyish it made your heart lurch.

You’d never seen him so happy before.

Well—once. That first time you kissed him. He’d looked a little like this, dazed and blissed out. But now? Now he looked like his whole world had just clicked into place.

“Yeah?” he breathed, voice shaky with excitement, his grin stretching so wide it practically crinkled his entire face.

“Yeah.” You laughed through the word, nodding, the emotion bubbling up in your chest and spilling into every part of you. Your smile was a mirror of his.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh and pulled you into him, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t stand the idea of space between you anymore. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, grinning against his skin.

“This is real, right?” he asked into your hair, voice muffled. “I’m not dreaming? Because sometimes I do dream about you saying that and then I wake up and it’s just—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the warm skin of his throat.

“It’s definitely real,” you mumbled against him.

Spencer let out a shaky breath and held you tighter. You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, both of you grinning like idiots. It felt absurdly, wonderfully perfect.

Then you muttered into his neck, “You do know you outed our relationship to everyone, right?”

Spencer’s arms stiffened around you just slightly. “Yeah. Totally. I knew that. I did it on purpose,” he lied, too quickly, voice pitched a little too high.

You giggled and pulled back, hands still resting on either side of his neck. “You’re a terrible liar, Dr. Reid.”

He didn’t even bother to defend himself, just gave you an adorable, crooked grin and leaned in to peck your lips. “Yeah, I am,” he mumbled, brushing his nose against yours.

You kissed him back, just once, then poked a finger into the center of his chest. “Also, we’re going to talk about your little superhero stunt at home.”

Spencer blinked. “Right,” he echoed, suddenly very aware of his earlier reckless attempt to talk the unsub down without backup. “Are you mad?”

“I’m not not mad,” you replied, giving him a look. “But I love you, so I’m saving the full lecture for later.”

He winced slightly, then smiled. “Fair.”

You let your fingers drift through the curls on his forehead, brushing them back gently. “Well,” you sighed, “for now, we have to go out there… into the land of chaos and gossip.”

Realization dawned slowly on Spencer’s face. His eyes widened. “Oh no. Garcia definitely filled Morgan in already.”

“And Rossi’s probably already told Hotch,” you added grimly.

“And JJ and Emily—”

“—were there when it happened,” you finished.

You both stood there in mutual silence for a moment, dread creeping in.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Maybe we could… go out the window?”

You laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Nice try, genius.”

He gave a helpless little shrug. “I had to try.”

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the handle of the door behind you.

“Ready?” you asked.

“Absolutely not,” Spencer said without hesitation.

You squeezed his hand anyway. “Come on, lover boy.”

To say that the conference room was chaos would’ve been an understatement.

Garcia let out a sound that could only be described as a squeal-gasp hybrid, immediately launching into a breathless, high-speed barrage of questions that involved timelines and pet names.

Morgan clapped Spencer on the back so hard he nearly stumbled, muttering something about “my boy finally growing up.” JJ just smirked from the corner, quietly sipping her coffee.

Hotch had walked by at one point, muttered something that suspiciously sounded like “About time,” and kept moving without missing a beat.

The jet ride was somehow worse.

You’d sat next to Spencer, hoping for a quiet, post-case decompression. Instead, you were subjected to Garcia and Morgan playing twenty questions from across the aisle. Rossi, pretending to read, chuckled behind his wine glass the entire time. At one point, you tried to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he’d blushed so hard you thought he might combust.

You weren’t sure if he was embarrassed from the attention or just overwhelmed from finally saying what he’d been keeping in for months. Probably both.

But the days that followed?

Even worse.

Because the teasing never stopped.

Emily sent you heart emojis during briefings. Morgan kept calling Spencer lover boy—which you regretted giving him the vocabulary for. Garcia had created a mood board on her computer and refused to delete it.

Even Hotch raised an eyebrow when you asked to share a rental car with Spencer.

But through it all, Spencer stayed by your side. Every awkward joke, every embarrassing comment, every not-so-subtle glance—he never flinched. If anything, he leaned into it. He held your hand in the bullpen and he kissed your cheek at the end of the day.

It was domestic chaos.

Romantic disaster. Beautiful, awkward, completely perfect hell.

[bunlaozu]

Missing you.

[Redacted] X Reader

type: fluff (this time)

word count: 1614 (not super long this time)

warnings: none! (also this time, more interesting stuffs in the future tho!)

hai this is gonna be basically my intro to tumblr! first post yayyy (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

i thought to myself hey, what is ren really like at home? and im sure my moots will know what i rly think of him but.. i thought it would be cute to write how i think he'd act a couple years post game, a small domestic moment i thought up for u (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

(also pls pls ignore my bad grammar and punctuation, this is very beta)

You and Redacted had been living together quite a while now, almost two years! Really it was just shy of perfect, something was always happening in your apartment with them, some project or puzzle or new game they'd decided you must play together. This weekend was particularly lazy, with nothing to do actively around the house having done all the chores alone for once.

See, Redacted, you'd discovered early into your relationship, was a nerd. He loved his computers and his small robots, he loved to build and tinker and usually left his office quite a mess. He'd found a part he needed for his latest project off some internet forum, something no longer produced, "rare", he'd said. The only downside is that the pickup was almost 4 hours inland, meaning he'd have to be gone almost the entire day.

Redacted had slid out of your bed much too early in the morning and bade you a kiss goodbye, whispering you softly back to sleep before you'd even really noticed. That meant you hadn't seen him properly since the night before, which.. was fine, and it was normal for partners to be busy. but you missed him anyways, terribly even, especially in his absence of usual texts he sent constantly when not home.

It was about 7pm now and the blood red sunset on the beach cast a glow into your home, spreading across the pristine white marble flooring almost like spilled juice. you stood in the kitchen having decided to cook for once, in Redacted's absence who usually always insisted to do this. You stood at the stove, stupid pun apron on and wooden spoon in hand making spam fried rice with a fruit tart dish in the oven. It wasn't much but it was something he loved and you hoped to surprise him with it when he got home tonight, god willing it be before midnight since the location app the two of you shared wasn't picking him up anymore.

You paused a moment to admire the shining gold band on your left hand, a pretty diamond nestled in ornate but simple patterns. Not that it could be seen but when Redacted had proposed to you just 6 months ago you'd discovered he'd had your rings engraved, just a simple “always” but it was perfect. The metal glinted in the light of the kitchen and it brought a soft smile to your face before eventually you needed to pay attention to the food on the stove again but with a warm feeling throughout.

You stood in the kitchen humming along to some new love song off the radio, tapping the end of the spoon against the counter before ultimately deciding to use it as a microphone because, why not? No one was home after all. The sounds of the stove vent running and the sizzling of the rice in the pan coupled with the music covered anything else, a small little bubble of life which a certain someone was hearing from the foyer as he snuck through the front door.

You didn't notice a thing, eyes closed having a playful moment to yourself until large warm arms wrapped around your waist and picked you up for a spin. you squealed in surprise and wiggled around in his arms gleefully, wanting to get a look at your lover after a whole day gone. "I'm home~ did'ya miss me?" his low warm voice hummed beside your ear, making you giggle in his hold and immediately reach to shut off the stove knowing he was too clingy to allow you to continue cooking.

"Yes i missed you!! Let me go!!" his arms loosened around you just enough for you to spin around, coming chest to delicate paper with him and gasping the moment you saw what he held close. Between the two of you was a beautiful bouquet of flowers, an entire spring mix of beautiful blues and whites and purples with his smiling hopeful face above the flowers. "What do y-" "I love them!!! They're so beautiful, did you know you're my favorite?" you burst out not even letting him ask, taking the bouquet gently from his hold before leaping into his arms and pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other with Redacted's hands running up and down your sides in warm paths till he seemingly had a new idea. He pressed you back and back and back, practically laying you down on the counter top while his kisses migrated across your face, over your hair, anywhere he could reach. his warm breath raised goosebumps across your skin and his smile pressed into your skin caused a new shiver, making you feel much too warm for an already toasty kitchen. "What are you.. a dog? All over me like a puppy.." you mumbled softly with a lovesick expression, hardly even an attempt at discouraging his overeager behavior.

"Missed you.. Can i not miss you? Missed you all day, missed you so much.." he rumbled softly against your skin where his mouth was pressed, hardly even kissing anymore so much as placing his mouth against your skin just to feel. He whispered the words reverently over and over, pressing the sentiment marrow deep to somewhere it would stick and take hold there, something that would grow. Redacted pressed his nose to your neck for a deep slow inhale, making you giggle at the sensation and finally decide to try and push him away while you squirmed in his arms. This only made things worse when he latched onto your waist tighter with a new determined look in his eyes not hiding the sparkle of mischief.

He left small breaths across your jaw and onto your face, pressing feather light kisses and making a point to be absolutely as close as possible. The cool brush from his nose only tickled worse but he refused to let up, leaving a delicate trail of breathy kisses all over your face and going as far to press his nose to yours, holding just like that for a moment. He slowly opened his mouth and bit on the tip of your nose, making you yelp in surprise and scrunch up with distaste. Redacted practically shook above you in a silent laughter, kissing the small nip better in a sincere apology with his soft eyelashes fluttering into a slightly remorseful smile.

"Redacted.. what is this? What are you even doing?" you said soft and endlessly fond, giving in and closing your eyes to his smirk pressed against your cheek, allowing him his fill of some much needed love. Once he started to nibble on your skin again you finally decided to gently put a hand over his mouth, snickering softly when he just started to gently nip and kiss at your fingers instead. You meant to push him away till his lips met the gold band on your finger, giving it a special devotion with your hand cradled between his own as if he held something to be worshipped. The sight was almost too much to bear, something fuzzy and warm tightening in your chest reminding you that you had this, he really was yours.

"Again, what'll i do with you??" you sighed with the fondest smile and a certain helplessness to your voice as he finally glanced up and your eyes met soft blue, a ghost of a hidden grin on his face, clearly very proud of himself. "Keep me?" he murmured in return, clearly gearing up to dive back in for more kisses which meant quickly squirming away off of the counter, wagging a finger in his direction.

"No more of you! Our dinner will get cold and then what?" you scolded, picking up your discarded wooden spoon to wave in his face. Redacted immediately crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks out in a pout, giving a small kick to the floor with a socked foot like there was any dirt to nudge while glancing up at you to see if his little show was working. "But.. y’could always reheat it..." he said petulantly, reaching for you and not expecting you to dance away, a smile on your face.

He reached for you again with a bit more speed and then it quickly became a game of cat and mouse, doing your best to slip and dodge from his reach while he became continuously competitive. He chased after you out of the kitchen and in front of the couch, smiling so hard it hurt and having worked up a slight pant. when he lunged for you this time you let him catch you, falling back onto the couch with a loud oof and a series of wheezing laughs knocking the breath from you both.

you reached up a hand to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the gentle flush from the exertion and excitement. "Got it out of your system? Can we have dinner now?" you said wryly, looking up at him with your best unamused expression. He put on an overly dramatic thinking face and hummed softly, looking around as if this were the hardest thing in the world to decide. his hands ran warm up and down your sides, sliding slowly over the skin under your shirt taking deliberately long touches to burn the feeling of his rough fingers into your skin. Redacted made a sound of affirmation and looked down at you with a smile "Nope. Missed you.”

Needless to say, dinner did need to be reheated and the tart was a little bit too toasty to taste good.

[glasskey]

Today I'm going to do something I don't usually do: Re post. I originally penned this in October of last year and it's as true now as it ever was.

The Boston Globe Episodes

Today I’m going to talk about The Boston Globe episode and how it paved the way for Nick, June and Holly’s journey. The Boston Globe episode is a powerful statement about the break down of truth in the face of dictatorships, and the threat of it in current political climates. In regards to the future of these characters, the episodes featuring the Boston Globe are extremely pivotal.

It’s telling that Nick and June spend the first 3 months of their babies life together at the now haunted and abandoned Boston Globe. Its the place where knowledge and truth once flowed and it’s where we truly begin to see how Holly is used as a vehicle to tell a larger tale. Here the printing presses are all painted in handmaids red, nooses hand from the rafters and bullet holes punctuate the walls like the final word in the resistance. It’s no coincidence that Holly undergoes her most formative months in this broken down home of free knowledge and information, as she will be fundamental to the restoration of democracy to her country.

It’s also the place where Nick and June begin to truly fall in love with one another. Nick and June have sex, at last unrestrained by the boundaries of the Waterford household, and there’s a lustful abandonment to it bred by years of captivity. We’re finally given a glimpse into their somewhat free life away from Gilead. Blaine’s always been somewhat of an enigma, stoic, dutiful and domesticated. But here in the semi free world we see the layers are almost instantly stripped away, he becomes immediately emotional and vulnerable….years of service have suffocated him.

These are their child’s most developmental months and it is the most formative moments of their relationship, where their feelings grow into a lasting bond. By the time she returns to the Waterfords, their child is well on its way to being fully formed, just as is her relationship with Nick. By the time their child is born, their bond will be forged and they will love each other entirely. It’s no coincidence that when Nick is married off to Eden, June almost miscarries.

June wanders around the secret location dressed in Blaine’s clothes, she’s in her first trimester, she’s wearing the t shirt she took off him the first night they were together and very possibly the night they conceived Holly. His clothes act like some kind of personal shield, it’s the best he can do in his absence. Later as she makes the Globe her home, she jogs between the small cities of presses to a shrine she has erected, an assortment of mementos and photographs from the surrounding desks. Just like the Handmaids letters, she intends to keep their stories alive, their voices heard.

Upstairs she gathers old editions and pieces together the story of the The Sons of Jacob and their rise to power. As Holly grows in her womb, rebellion grows in her heart and June returns to the Waterfords with a crystalized intent to destroy Gilead. Nick looks at the wall of clippings reconstructing his past and begins to truly understand, this is the moment when Blaine’s loyalties truly turned. He tries to convince her to go, he’s understandably worried about her future and the future of his unborn child….he should be, it’s a girl.

The two share a morning cup of coffee and there’s the facade of a normalcy as we get a glimpse of Nick and June as a couple in the real world. “If I wake you then you leave, how is that a win for me?” She asks him. Atwood’s text describes June as no longer wanting to leave Nick, June’s caught in a dream from which she no longer wishes to wake. The rare moment of domesticity in this moment is so brief, but overflowing with contentment. Just a flash and then it’s gone, like all the other precious moments of peace these two get.

[morelofthesea]

generation of miracles social media edition

ok so. i might be 83 years late to Kuroko no Basket, but i have thoughts. it might be a long one.

let’s pretend they have smartphones.

Kuroko Tetsuya

instagram: Has an account. posts? neer. stories? mostly of Tetsuya #2, and even then, only sometimes. follows the gom members who do have an account and some low-key aesthetic accounts. later starts following his seirin teammates but the moment they get the notification it’s just “?? who is this” until kuroko says it’s him. kise, aomine and momoi were the only ones following him before most of the guys at seirin followed him back.

tikok: downloaded it once because kise begged him to. doesn’t get the hype.

x: has an account. used it twice and dipped.

Kise Ryouta

instagram: two accounts: a private, family-and-friends-only, and his modeling one with a fanbase the size of tokyo tower.

tiktok: yeah. daily vlogs, basketball, behind-the-scenes of photoshoots and trending challenges.

snapchat: i’m not sure.

youtube: fashion tips, random ‘day in my life’ stuff, some basketball videos.

Aomine Daiki

snapchat: unhinged

instagram: follows every cute girl. posts gym thirst traps + blurry photos of his sneakers.

tiktok: he said it was dumb. now he sends ten videos a day at 2am.

x: probably lurking, might drop the occasional comment, but mostly silent.

Midorima Shintarou

x: “necessary for news and stats”, rarely tweets, uses it to see his licky items and stuff.

takao made him download insta once. he never used it.

has LINE bc it’s functional and efficient and he uses proper punctuation.

i don't even know if he has tiktok but he’d hate it. especially if takao sends him lots of vids.

Murasakibara Atsushi

might have a LINE account to message the group when he’s out of chips.

only downloaded a food delivery app and maybe youtube.

he does not see the vision of social media

Akashi Seijuro

instagram and tiktok: private accounts, used strictly to stalk competition. perfectly curated.

Momoi Satsuki

social media queen.

tiktok: cute, edits. also uses it to stalk competition. she’s so chronically online.

instagram: 75% selfies and 25% team content. replies to everyone’s stories with emojis. pink-themed.

definitely uses snap with aomine and group chats with the team.

uses X the most. she knows all the drama before it even happens.

+ Kagami Taiga

snapchat.

instagram: his posts are mostly about training, basketball and the occasional friend group snap. no thirst traps (at least, not intentional). doesn’t follow anyone unless they ask, but watches every story.

refuses to download tiktok.

he’s the type who forgets to turn off the camera flash in public.

[localvillagecryptid]

No one has any clue what the fuck the Firelights actually Do so I'm gonna dump my headcanon here as the official lore in continuation of my saga of Zaun headcanons.

The Firelights are basically like a nonprofit organization with a Robin Hood twist. Their mission is to be a stabilizing force in Zaun, trying to do whatever they can to take care of both each other and their people. Since they aren't an actual nonprofit, and Piltover doesn't give a damn about human rights, this is where the Robin Hood stuff comes in.

They have to gain their resources (food, water, medicine, etc.) Via theft. So they tend to rob Piltie ships. They try to avoid the foreign ones just to lower the risk of backlash (the foreign governments putting pressure on Piltover to crack down on them, etc.), but they'll do what they believe is necessary to get supplies (and also sometimes mistakes just happen).

They're not above violence, but they do try not to kill people just because they know it can get messy with Piltover if they do. That being said, I believe they probably have killed a few, at the very least on accident. Fights can be brutal, especially if your opponent isn't holding back like you are.

Another thing: their masks aren't just to hide their identities from their enemies. The reality is, things can happen. If they started walking around bare-faced in Zaun, it would be easy for other Zaunites to identify them and possibly give them up (whether to Silco or enforcers or whoever). So they wear them til they're back in their hideout.

The Firelights try not to operate in Zaun beyond distributing supplies or fighting Silco. This is to both prevent their identities being leaked and because they never want to be seen as a "policing" force in their own home. The last thing Ekko wants is to see his own people as "others" or "suspects". Yes, the Firelights are his family, so he seeks to protect them. But Zaun is his home, the Zaunites are his people. He IS a Zaunite, just as all the Firelights are. And he never wants any of them to forget that.

As for who he DOES fight in Zaun: in season 1, Silco is at the top of that list. However, I feel like they probably have other enemies too, even if Silco is the biggest fish (as de facto leader of Zaun at the time). The Firelights have been around (by act 2 s1) for seemingly a few years at that point. It's entirely believable they'd ruffle some feathers along the way. Perhaps a few gang leaders/drug lords (the type to either follow Silco or be desperate to usurp him) who think taking the Firelights out would be the next step towards their goals. Other enemies might include of Silco's allied chembarons and anyone who tries to attack their deliveries.

Distribution of supplies: after robbing a Piltie ship, they'd take stock of whatever they got and send anything they can spare to a connection of theirs in the rest of Zaun. I'd imagine (since they don't seem to have hospitals) to an orphanage of some kind. So, food, clothes, medical supplies, etc. Basically anything a trading ship might have that would be useful to people.

If they snag loot that happens to not be immediately useful (nonessentials like jewelry or knick-knacks or something) they'll either try to repurpose/upcycle it or they'll sell it and use the money to either buy those supplies or put towards projects (such as building tech) to help their mission.

My musings are only half fleshed out and I'm really expanding most of this on the fly as I write it. But I do like to explore the possibility that they're not as sunshine and rainbows as they might seem in their rare moments in canon (and in my post so far).

Less sunny ideas under the cut:

I saw a clip from s1 the other day of a scene that I totally forgot about. When Caitlyn first tells Ekko about the Hexcore, his first thought is about what they (he) can do with it. Namely, as a weapon. Against Silco.

And yes, his traumatizing childhood punctuated by Silco basically coming in and fucking his life up out of nowhere DOES mean it makes sense that Silco is Enemy Number One in Ekko's eyes, arguably even more than Piltover. (Because Piltover ruined the world around him, but Silco might as well have personally walked in and shot everyone he loves right in front of him. Silco IS the villain of Ekko's story, arguably more than anyone else). THAT BEING SAID, he's expressed anti-Piltover sentiments since basically the first time we meet him. So what if Silco telling Marcus to paint the Firelights as terrorists... isn't entirely baseless?

When I say terrorists of course, I really only mean to Piltover. Actual terrorists exist, but many revolutionaries are also painted as terrorists. Silco saying this and giving the bomb as "evidence" isn't just him "being evil", it MAKES SENSE because that's probably already what Piltover would think even without the fake evidence. So what if the Firelights WERE planning to attack Piltover at some point?

Maybe not the same way Silco was. At the end of the day, his whole thing is being calculating (he's also got more life experience than Ekko, who's the same age as his daughter). So Silco definitely thought through Zaun's independence plan waayyy more than Ekko has (whether or not the plan is a good one is notwithstanding, stay focused here). So maybe the Firelights kinda have this plan to like. Destroy Piltover.

Not with bombs, but to be fair, Ekko IS a smart techy guy. He's not into grenades like Jinx, but he did make those hoverboards. He designed the fans to be able to withstand the thick air in Zaun. So what if he's generally just really familiar with the ventilation system? What if he was planning on doing something similar to what happened in Season 2 (redirecting the air to Piltover), but like, worse? Maybe he'd make it so the air system was permanently pushing the Grey into Topside, and maybe he even wanted to put something else in it? Give them a taste of their own chemical warfare? It would take years to do, and might be his end goal, but really, what else would someone who's been radicalized by oppression, who's filled with all this pain and anger, who has so much innovative skill - what else would someone like that do? Lay down and take it? Considering he made the Firelights... I don't think so.

Obviously I don't think he was actually planning on doing this; I don't think they thought him or the Firelights through at all. But he's expressed interest in violence before, and he's also anti-Piltover, so I figure he has to do SOMETHING with his anger (and also as much as I love him, being that squeaky clean and perfect of a character is.... suspicious to me. Or at least not as interesting. You can't live in a world so unforgiving and come out unstained, especially with all that- understandable- anger in him). He clearly wants peace, in whatever way he can (hence he wanted to give the Hexcore to the council himself; likely to bargain for benefits for Zaun). He's hopeful, but I don't think he's necessarily naive about it. He knows that they're most likely never going to just hand it to them- or else they would've done that already. So just in case, he has a plan to take it for himself.

[cheezbites]

How COD Characters Would Text

✎: I’m such a slow writer/procrastinator so sorry for the slow posts. But I upload lots of skits and I know y’all love those !!😋

♡Summary: Headcanons of how COD characters would text.

Ghost

• He rarely replies to you or sees your messages, as for how you never see him texting you in the first place. (Or even using his phone for that matter). Every once in a blue moon, you would finally see a highlighted double check mark next to your messages.

• Has a black screen set as his profile picture.

• Leaves you on read and you took it personally, but he addresses your texts in real life since he finds the keyboard too confusing, and he doesn't have time to figure it out.

“I saw your text on the... Uh, ‘What App’, the meeting’s going to be at 2:30pm.”

Valeria

• Strictly sends voice notes; she also finds the keyboard too complicated. If she’s in an environment where she can’t send voice messages then she texts you back painstakingly slow, or she doesn’t bother trying.

• She adored calling you to hear your voice and have genuine conversations instead of staring at a screen and repeatedly tapping away. She also loved hearing about your day and what you were up to.

• Texts you at any time but mostly at night.

König

• Would only text you if you texted him; he has his notifications on for vital and crucial things but most importantly when you send him messages. Also a very messy typer, it would be impossible to not find a single typo.

• Has a cute stray cat he saw on a walk as his profile pic.

• König would frequently discover emojis; although you knew them all like the back of your hands you acted oblivious for him.

“🤪🤪 Did u kno this emoji existed?!”

“miawwww🙀!!! This emoji is very silly, we should use it more often.”

“🙈🙊🙈jajaja ich bin ein schüchterner Affe..”

Price

• Sends you corny facebook memes to start your day. You act as if you hated them and they're obnoxious but deep down you love when he sends them. You know it’s an ‘off day’ for him when you don’t receive one.

• He’s a massive punctuation enthusiast, and he doesn't type slow but not too fast despite his age.

“Good morning, how are you doing today?”

“Please ensure to drink lots of water, it’s going to be very hot later on.”

“Please don’t touch Simon’s sandwich in the fridge. He’s feeling very stubborn today.👍”

• Would make a group chat so the group can bond but half of you guys left over petty arguments and the other half are inactive.

• Him fishing on some boat as his profile picture.

Soap

• Has one of the default options as his profile picture. Or him posing with a rifle.

• Sends you memes you actually laugh at, they’re usually short videos. But then on the other hand, he sends you corny puns that you still find yourself laughing at:

Soap: “Y can’t scientist trust atoms?”

Y/N: “???? why”

Soap: “Cause they make up everything!”

Y/N: “hahahah soo funny dude😐”

And behind the screen you have the biggest shit-eating grin.

• Always double texts you, even if you say you’re busy and can’t take messages. Not even that, he’d triple text you because he can and nothing is stopping him.

• He’s on Do Not Disturb most of the time from all the spam emails he receives, mostly because he carelessly gave out his information to dodgy websites.

Gaz

• Over shares information so casually and then changes the subject, it honestly baffles you at times. To him, there's no such thing as TMI.

“Nearly got run over heading to the shops, but how are you?”

“There was a stabbing at the local chippy shop. What’s for dinner?”

“Just saw a homeless person buy drugs with money someone accidentally dropped. Fun day.”

• Texts you all the time, the moment you send him a message he opens it no matter what time it is or where he’s at.

• Has a selfie as his profile picture.

Alejandro

• Would try-hard being cool so he uses a shit ton of emojis in nearly every text, you can't help but laugh at his failed efforts. And expect lots of typos from him, too.

“Yo😁 any plans todsy🤔🤔??”

“Jow do I turn dowm the brightness.😎☀️”

• He only messages you in the afternoon, in the morning he's too occupied and at night he’s getting that beauty sleep.

• You’re like his tech assistant, always helping him with the simplest of things. This one time, he set his keyboard to another language and was only messaging in Arabic until you could help him set it back to English.

Rudy

• Spams you like it’s super urgent, only to say: “never mind, it’s not important” knowing damn well he had nothing to say in the first place.

“hello?!??!”

“pick up y/n, very important. asap!!!!!”

“are you dead? where are you.”

And once you do get back to him…

“nvm the issue was resolved.”

• Turned off auto capitalisation, but he’s still punctual every now and then. Never sends emojis.

• On that note, whenever you say “ur” he does that know-it-all thing which we all know and hate where he says “You’re*”.

Horangi

• A mix of voice notes and texts, he generally does not text whatsoever even if it’s urgent. If you wanted to reach him you had to do so face-to-face.

• He would leave you on read with no shame and forget what you even sent ten seconds later.

• Is committed to that default image as his profile picture, he knows how to change it but he can't be bothered and he doesn’t even know what to change it to.

Keegan

• When he sends voice notes he acts confused as to why you’d bookmark them. (Fully aware girls simp for his voice - it’s a massive ego boost at times).

• Calls you early in the morning, (really early). As he knows you inevitably snooze your alarm and stay in bed for ‘a few more minutes’ but you stay glued there until the afternoon. It’s a really efficient way of waking you up so you’re not complaining.

Masterlist

[joestars-and-stripes]

My Utopia

A/N: Hello all! I've been letting this one sit in my google docs for a hot minute before I decided to revise it and post it here. This is just a one shot of a bigger fanfic with my Kengan Ashura OC and Ohma Tokita. Please enjoy it! Also I would really appreciate feedback! Also sorry for the huge block of the audio above, but I was listening to this while writing the fic lol.

Warnings: Spoilers for death of main character, grief/sadness, hints of pregnancy, uncertainty of the future.

The underground tournament with Nogi was a relentless pressure cooker. Every fight felt like a descent into the deepest parts of hell, punctuated by Nogi’s demands about contracts and my constant vigilance to ensure our fighter was a hundred percent. When Ohma became our substitute, my role narrowed: solely his athletic trainer, with Mr. Yamashita as his manager.

I met Ohma months ago. His deep gray eyes, intense and assessing, had bored into my brown eyes. At four foot nine, I’m sure I didn’t fit his image of a trainer. The smiles came later, a rare, subtle smirk that flickered when we spoke, easily missed by others.

All my life, the place I’ve been searching for has felt just beyond reach – a shimmering mirage, a dreamer lost in a dream, a sea where fear and joy intertwined. I glimpsed it, felt its pull in a dream that day. I held onto the belief that someday, following that blurry afterimage, one step at a time, we would find it.

From the moment I met him, months ago, Ohma declared his strength, his unwavering intent to prove it. The Kengan tournament became his brutal stage. After each match, his needs were surprisingly simple: stretches, ice, cryotherapy, or just silent companionship. But as the relentless matches wore on, the strain on his body, especially his heart, became a palpable weight.

Mr. Yamashita, his face etched with worry, had insisted on searching for Ohma after his last fight, a disappearance that hung heavy in the air. We found him outside the roaring arena, in an incongruous, isolated field, slumped against a tree, unnervingly still.

“Ohma…? Are you alright…?” Mr. Yamashita’s voice was hesitant, fear keeping him from immediately facing the prone figure. A long, heavy silence stretched before a short grunt, followed by another agonizing pause. “I know the toll this tournament has taken… Ohma, please…” A lump formed in my throat, the inevitable conclusion of this brutal chapter pressing down on us.

The map of our future felt incomplete, the final strokes missing. Even if the world chose to ignore us, I would keep going. Even if the distance felt insurmountable, I would still climb. If the utopia I envisioned didn’t exist, I would pull it closer to our reality. Don’t tell me that’s not true anymore, yeah.

“Ohma, please…” My voice was a choked whisper, tears already blurring my vision. “Please don’t leave. I… I feel like I failed you as your trainer. Just… just say you won’t go.” The grief of losing someone so close was a physical ache, tears streaming down my face, uncontrollable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. All I could do was sink to my knees, a silent, broken sob escaping my lips. The knowledge of the immense burden on his heart, a burden that had finally broken him, was a crushing weight.

“Oh, Ohma…” Mr. Yamashita’s cry was torn from his chest. “I… I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. You and Miss Maeya… you were both too young to be caught in this…” His words struck a raw nerve. Did he truly believe I was just dragged along?

“Mr. Yamashita, please… please don’t think you dragged me here too,” I choked out through my tears, looking up at his own tear-streaked face. Our shared burden hung heavy in the air. I reached for his hand, my small hand finding his, a silent offering of comfort as Ohma remained still, unresponsive. “Please… I’m here because I wanted to be. For you… and for Ohma.”

I had a dream, a utopia waiting for us. I would never stop chasing it, every day, every night. Here we go, go, go. Even if the world scoffed at a dream, I couldn’t let it go. That was my truth. Oh, we can touch utopia. We can reach there, utopia, oh. Every day, every night we keep going on.

The thought of losing him was a searing pain in my chest. I pulled my hand away from Kazuo’s, clutching at my heart as if to physically contain the agony. It felt like it was just him and me against the world. If only I could make a deal, trade places, run up that road, that hill, that building, just to save him. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me – a consequence of unspoken intimacy, a blurring of professional lines driven by a mutual, undeniable connection. How could I have maintained that distance when every look, every stolen touch, every secret kiss whispered a different truth?

All my life, the utopia I sought felt like a hidden treasure, barely visible through the clouds, a place that wasn’t just a dream for us. Sleep offered no escape, my voice was raw with unshed tears, my knees ached from constantly pushing forward. The memory of the roaring cheers from the stage felt distant, unreal. The broken steering wheel of our journey had finally stopped. We had aimed for the impossible height. I, who had been wandering, had finally looked up, towards the sky. Sleepless nights spent chasing a dream, only to have it snatched away just as my hands reached for it.

Memories, both bright and shadowed, flickered through my mind, the rapid-fire montage of the past months. My hand remained pressed against my stomach, a persistent knot of grief and nausea. Perhaps Kazuo sensed the unspoken tragedy of young lovers torn apart, a love that was perhaps never meant to fully bloom.

“Miss Maeya, I’m so sorry… I couldn’t do anything,” Kazuo whispered, his hand a gentle weight on my shoulder. “I truly tried to get him to stop before it was too late.”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Yamashita,” I replied, my voice flat with exhaustion, wiping away the endless tears. “I failed too… as his trainer. I’m not even sure if I deserve that title anymore. Please… go on ahead. I want to stay here with him a little longer.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright alone?” Kazuo asked, his concern evident.

“Mhm. I won’t be long, I promise,” I managed a weak smile. He nodded slowly, leaving me in the heavy silence. “Ohma… I just wish you had listened. But… I’m so grateful our paths crossed. Maybe it was fate, maybe something else. You’ve impacted us more than you ever knew. You achieved what you set out to do, no matter the cost. I admire your resilience, your ability to rise after every fall… something I wish I possessed.” Fresh tears welled in my eyes, my arms instinctively cradling my stomach.

Don’t tell me that’s not true anymore, yeah. I had a dream, and it’s waiting… or it was. I’ll never stop, oh, every day, every night. Here we go, go, go. Even if the world laughs at a shattered dream, the truth remains. Even if you laugh at me, I’m fine. We’re too young to stop.

“This will sound foolish, but I truly hope we can meet again in another lifetime. I would want nothing more than to experience life with you again. Sleep now… I hope fate grants us one more chance.” The image of the arena flashed in my mind – once vibrant, roaring, now empty, the curtains drawn on a silent, lonely night.

Oh, we can touch utopia. We can reach there, utopia. Oh, every day, every night we keep going on. When the darkness finally breaks and I open my eyes again, I hope… I desperately hope I can reach it, even if it’s just a little closer.

[madnesshyperfixation]

Requests Open!

Hey, first time doing this so I’m very sorry if some asks come out weird or janky, I also cannot promise consistency due to being on the spectrum with a lot of comorbid conditions magnifying to it. Firstly, here's a list of the Fandoms/Communities I'm currently interested in, the one at the top is my current hyperfixation and has the highest chance of getting answered if sent Asks. Any Fandom/Community that aren't in the number one spot are not being focused on at the moment but are still open to be sent asks for.

Forsaken (Roblox)

Madness Combat

FNAF

Undertale/Deltarune

Hollow Knight

Now here are the rules.

Rules/Info

I can deny and ignore asks/requests if they violate any rules so don’t come bitching if you blatantly disregarded the rules 

Be as specific as you want with the asks, I love details and will do better if there’s more details.

My messages are open but please keep it to asking me if a request went through and didn't get eaten by Tumblr, along with if some settings seem off.

Send as many Requests as you want if you're afraid of Tumblr eating an ask.

I will likely go back and edit past headcanons to add more headcanons or fix any bad grammar or punctuation errors I notice post upload.

Ask Settings 

When you ask you must explicitly say if you want x reader or not.

Unless otherwise specified the reader will be gender neutral and go by, They/Them 

Reader's personality can be specified if asked 

I do up to 4 Characters per ask but I will add a bonus if there's alternate options i've thought of or they have shared traits that would be easier to list below in another small section

Anonymous is on! But please use it appropriately! I will make an Anon list if there's enough to warrant a list.

Wills 

I will to spicy and suggestive things, just don’t expect a masterpiece since I’m not sure of my spicy skills yet. 

I will do Yandere, but I’m not sure of my skills yet so I’m very sorry if it comes out weird. 

I will do concepts/situations, but you will have to specific if it’s romantic or platonic. 

I will do ships! Gotta love dem ships 

You can absolutely ask for rare pairs, I’ll do my best to try and portray them as best I can.

Yes, I will write for obscure and under loved characters from the series!

Genderbend (Will need to specify if I have multiple interpretations or if you want a specific creators interpretation) 

I will do gore and blood, you just have to specify how much. 

I will do AU’s so if you wanna ask about AU’s I’d love to indulge. (Ex. Madness Combat but what if they were Demon Slayers, Forsaken but with Wings etc.) But for the sake of me not burning out I'm not delving too deeply into fully developing the AU's suggested, besides, it’ll let you guys imagine something more complex. 

Won’t 

Rape, I don’t believe I have the right nor does it seem appropriate. 

Some mental disorders due to me not feeling that I will write them properly and end up butchering them or I am simply not comfortable with it, these will be listed below for the sake of organization. 

Literally anything regarding sexualization of kids, go and fuck off if you even think of suggesting that ever. 

Sadly I do not do OC’s I feel I would butcher your lovely OCs into the ground.

Mental Disorder Wills and Won’ts 

Will  Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Autism, Anxiety Disorders, Tourette’s Syndrome, Sleeping Disorders 

Won’t  Bipolar Disorder (BPD), Eating Disorders, Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), Schizophrenia, Anything regarding Suicide,  

[wisheduponastar]

I have ✨lots✨ of questions from your OC question post. Please answer as many or as few as you want:

3, 8, 9, 11, 16, 26, 36, 45, 46, 48

Seriously, I know it’s an absurd number of questions

🚑

Sorry for the delay! The reason for the delay? I have answered all... and my answers may add up to 3.4k words. Aranuir is just a silly little guy who communicates very oddly in different stages of his life, and we love him for that.

Hope your not at all absurd number of questions can be helped with my actual absurd length of answers!

Also, all answers are below the cut. And trigger warning for discussions of homophobia. It is only in the very last segment of my answer - 1/4 of a question in 10 questions, but be warned that it's there.

3. How often does your OC swear?  Is it something that punctuates their everday speech?  Or is it so unusual to hear them use "bad" language that it would shock those around them?

Aranuir doesn’t swear very often. Aside from the fact swearing doesn’t really appear in Tolkien’s works (and other than GoT it takes me out of most fantasy), he simply isn’t the person too. Growing up in Rivendell means it wasn’t something he was really exposed to throughout his childhood, and even when he joins the Dúnedain he doesn’t pick up swearing, or too much vulgar language (although he does crack the occasional joke). Then he spent a large portion of his life trying to be a diplomat and emulate nobility - so swearing is a big no then.

On the rare occasions he does swear, it’s a brief mutter because he’s either entirely overwhelmed or in quite a lot of pain. Aranuir also generally swears in Rohirric because he knows no-one with Rohirric as a mother-tongue. The few times he has sworn, it was definitely a ‘what just happened’ moment for the other people around him. It’s more shocking for the break in formality than the word itself. The few times he’s sworn in speech are during very emotionally heated moments with people he trusts/has a strong connection too.

8. Did your OC's parents or other caregivers use any specific terms of endearment for them as a child?  Do (or would) they use similar terms for their own children?

Well, his father died when he was around one - so any nicknames from that side have faded from his memory a long time ago. When he goes to Rivendell he’s renamed Astor (meaning faith), although that’s not really a term of endearment. Sometimes his mother would refer to him and Aragorn as her flowers, or her warriors. (He was either her rose, or her carnation.) The twins would sometimes call him Elein (Sindarin for poet), which is a nickname he still keeps as an adult.

Aranuir has thought about what he’d call his children a few times, but he’s never actually been certain on what he’d name them. It would probably be nicknames based on nature or the stars, rather than specific roles or jobs. They aren’t any roles for him, but his stars, his heart, his kindness.

9. Does your OC consider their voice particularly "sexy"? Do they try to adopt a more seductive tone in romantic situations?  How successful are these efforts?

He’d deny it if someone asked him, but privately he thinks his voice is attractive. As for sexy? He’d probably be less willing to admit that in general, although that’s more the strongly demi part of him than a lack of confidence or genuine non-belief. There’s one or two reasons - but the main, for him, is that it’s composed of accents that most find traditionally attractive. His accent is a mixture of Sindarin and Gondorian, which both generally seen as higher or more desired accents (also a hint of Dúnedain in there). Personally, I hear his voice as a mixture of Boromir and Aragorn’s voice.

He generally doesn’t adopt romantic tones, he can persuade people just fine without it - and finds it crosses manipulation slightly too much. Occasionally, if someone else has initiated, he might add a more seductive tone. Generally leans more one way (either a Sindarin accent or a higher Gondorian one). The exception is Boromir, where he will generally go slightly more Northern and speak more like a Dúnedain (if he’s trying to have a seductive tone). Aranuir can also talk well and can be charming when he needs to be, so it works well.

11. Has your OC ever made a conscious effort to change their voice?  Perhaps by trying to rid themselves of a particular accent or making themselves sound more assertive?

Yes. When he first takes up the mantle as Eliarâd (his counterpart to Thorongil), he has a more pronounced Sindarin accent and tries to rid himself of the Dúnedain one. This is mainly because he (rightly) perceives that elves are viewed as wiser, and their advice is listened to more favourably than advice from a ranger of the North. Aranuir is also very quick to pick up a Gondorian accent, so he sounds like he’s been in Gondor for almost all of his life. He deeply wants to be associated with Gondor, and to fit in with its Lords and Ladys, so accent mimicry is an easy first step. (He mimics it so well that it, eventually, becomes a permanent part of how he speaks.)

Will still sometimes slip into an elvish way of speaking if trying to persuade, but that’s rarer. Generally he’ll try and subtly match his accent to whoever he’s speaking too. Being in the Fellowship is actually one of his few extended periods where he speaks in his natural voice for a long period of time, around people he’s never truly met.

16. Does your OC's body language sometimes give away what they might prefer to conceal?  Or are they practiced at ensuring that their physical presentation matches their stated positions?

When he was a child Aranuir was very naturally expressive with his body language, he simply naturally put emotions into movement. When he becomes Aranuir and stops being Astor he makes the conscious effort to not be as readable, and so his body language in formal settings becomes more closed off. It’s a subtler tell, but hand movement from him - he can be very expressive that way - normally indicates very strong emotions. Clasps his hands behind his back or at his front to avoid this. Then you can tell by how strong his grip is.

Oddly enough, some of his concealment is based on Ecthelion - and he and Denethor both learned and picked up similar mannerisms from the Steward. Therefore, they sometimes move or make a gesture in an oddly similar way. Boromir finds this very disconcerting when he observes it.

26. What kind of compliments might your OC bestow upon another person?  Elegant flattery?  Crude sexual banter?  Measured, but positive feedback?

Aranuir is most comfortable with flattery. He will always base it in reality, and never goes too far or exaggerate - but flattery is what he’s always done. It’s for the nobles he danced with, and his smile as he compliments their dancing form or the colours of their new silk dress. Among true friends his compliments are generally less poetic, but he still gives them truthfully - and they’re still designed to instil pride in the other. It’s just more simple now, a nod and a “You fought well yesterday.”

36. What is your OC's laugh like?  Is it a genteel titter? A hearty belly laugh?  Or a snorting noise like a constipated donkey?

Aranuir laughs in two ways. The polite, elegantarian way that - although can be genuine - is generally more political. It sounds fine, quite normal, although there’s an underlying hint practice that makes it slightly off for people who know him. His actual laugh is much more full, and almost boy-ish in a sense. There’s a grin throughout all of it, it’s at a somewhat higher pitch. Occasionally there’ll be a slight hitch in it as he grins, or laughs slightly too fast. But it actually sounds authentic.

45. Does your OC ever change their language or tone when moving between different cultures or social settings?

Yes. Aranuir has an affinity for languages - which is definitely helped by growing up in Rivendell. He considers Westron his mother tongue, but he was raised fairly bilingual and can speak Sindarin fluently. His Quenya is (comparatively) very good as well, although he's better at reading than speaking. He can hold a conversation in Rohirric, although it takes him a little longer. (Has a fair understanding of Black Speech, but refuses to acknowledge that.)

He’s equally comfortable in Westron and Sindarin, so his switch is mainly depending on who he’s talking to and for what reason. He sees Sindarin as something more intimate and important, so even around elves and Aragorn (or others he knows are fluent) he’ll still largely speak in Westron because it’s easier and doesn’t carry such serious connotations.

Aranuir usually speaks the mother-tongue of wherever he is (the one expectation being Rohan, where he will try for Rohirric but may apologise and ask for a Westron conversation instead), and I’ve explained accents in a previous question. The only time his language changes is when dealing with nobility in Gondor, where he’ll often lean more into Sindarin - as the upper classes are supposed to be able to speak it fluently. It’s more him showing off than anything at that point.

46. What (if any) are your OC's go to "polite" expressions of disappointment or frustration?  Do they ever substitute words like "sugar" or "darn" for stronger language?  Under what circumstances might they do this?

Calls upon the gods quite often instead of swearing. ‘Valar preserve us’. While serving under Ecthelion, he developed a habit of referring to things he thought were bad ideas as ‘interesting’ in the most obviously polite tone you’ve ever heard. Generally instead of swearing there’s a second of silence, with obvious deep thought going on, before he’ll smile and start a new subject. His substitutions are used pretty much everywhere, simply because he doesn’t often swear.

48. What would be the most offensive word or term to use about your OC?  How would they respond to this being used towards them?  Would it matter what the intent or understanding of the person using it might be?

I love how you’ve answered this question when I sent it to you, so I’m going to shamelessly steal your answer format - hope that’s okay with you. There are a lack of slurs in Lord of the Rings, which I appreciate and Aranuir probably does too. I imagine there are probably offensive terms for rangers, but those don’t particularly bother him. Him being a ranger proves nothing but positive attributes, and the person saying it probably hasn’t held a sword against an enemy in their life.

Of course, there’s also the fact that he’s (modern day labelling) bisexual, with a male preference. This is a part of him that he keeps much, much more under lock-and-key. So, (in stealing from your format), I too have a shortlist of words and the difference in time periods. My time frames are as follows: child (1-19), while Eliarâd (24-47 - his time under King Thengel & Steward Ecthelion), and then… I will simply call the next period adulthood (everything after 28). Here are my words/concepts : 

Fake.

Spare

The lesser son

About homosexuality

Fake: 

As a child: Technically, this should cut deeply - because, as Astor, he is. He is not a simple child in Rivendell, but an heir of Isildur. And when Aranuir’s older, if he were called that at this time he’d reflect a lot more deeply. A kind of irony. But as a child, it would make him competitive more than anything. He would have wanted to prove his skill in anything, and everything, so they knew he wasn’t lying about whatever skills he might have.

While Eliarâd: On the surface, he’ll laugh this off. Everyone in politics has some level of fakeness about them, and he sees it as a weak insult more than anything. Then he affirms his duty to Gondor, his care for it, before moving on with his day. Underneath it can sometimes send him spiraling. Because he is faking a lot, he’s faking being Eliarâd. Not being an heir to the throne. Having little desire for a king to govern over Gondor. He is fake, and he cannot deny it without ruining everything he is trying to work so hard for. But despite being fake, all his care and loyalty and friendships are real.

As an adult: He’s a lot more honest in this stage of life, and now it hurts a little less. There’s a slight turn of the head as you call him that, and his smile stiffens slightly. Parts of his past and pretending still haunt him - so if fake is used then it hits him quite hard, makes him feel guilty. But it doesn’t bother Aranuir too much if it’s used to describe him now.

Intent: His reaction certainly depends on the intention. In light hearted banter or jokes, it doesn’t really bother him. It’s not a horribly rare insult, and they don’t mean it as a slight on his character. If it’s actually referring to him as a person. That he is fundamentally fake? That digs very deep - because it’s something he sometimes wonders about himself. This is the insult that causes him to freeze for only a second, before putting on a colder smile and assuring you he’s real. Then wondering if he’s lying to himself.

Spare:

As a child: He takes offence. Just because he’s younger than his brother doesn’t mean he’s not valuable! Astor is just as great - if not even cooler, and much more charming - than Estel. It doesn’t bother him nearly as much, however, because he doesn’t really understand the connotations.

While serving the Steward: It hits him a lot, lot harder now. He understands what it means to be the spare - and why he is the spare. It hits him especially hard, because right now he’s actually trying. Aranuir is working as an advisor currently, and his advice is good. Sometimes better than his brothers, depending on the area. Also, he’s consciously trying to get Aragorn to the throne. So is his role really just the spare? It often sends him into a more existential crisis, because if all he’s worth is getting a throne for someone else - what is he really worth. He really is the spare.

Also, in canon there is a rather dramatic moment when he is specifically called this (and another name on this list), which is probably the single most hurtful conversation he’ll have in his life.

As an adult: It still hurts. Pre-Fellowship, it hurts even more because he doesn’t really have a purpose right now. He’s simply a ranger, simply Aragorn’s little brother. Pre-Fellowship, he really does see himself as the spare. And it digs deep to hear someone call him that. Post-Fellowship, he still definitely bristles. Because now he knows he’s more than that, and he has done so much more than simply be there in case his brother won’t take the throne. (Also, whoever said that must pray that both Aragorn and Boromir do not hear of the incident.)

Intent: Once he knows he’ll Aranuir, it will always hurt a bit. Even as a jest - because he so desperately wants to be more than just a spare heir for someone. If it’s said as a true insult? This is what makes him grit his teeth, want to fight but not. Hold his tongue and leave, before he sits alone. Wondering if that’s really all he is, because they perceive him as that. And they may well be right. He’s had this said with full intent by someone he’s cared about, and oh boy did that fuck him up for a while.

The lesser son:

The line that Saruman says to Théoden? ‘You are the lesser son of greater sires?’. That would send Aranuir to cry in the rain on his own later that night. Théoden is a stronger man than he’ll ever be in that regard. (if this was said about siblings he’d probably break as well.)

As a child: Even as a child this one hurt. He was named faith while his brother was named hope - can he too not bring hope to people? And even as a child, he’s observant enough to realise that there is something special about Aragorn. A whisper or a glance that isn’t extended to him. It’s something that eats him up a little - because he doesn’t understand why. Why is Aranuir viewed differently? If someone said that to him, there’s a moment of heartbreak as his worries finally have a name. And then he’d probably hit them.

While serving the steward: It definitely hits hard. He’s having to deal with and process all of this, and to hear it being said while he’s still finding his place in the world? Certainly devastating. Was devastating, in his canon. It’s especially bad because these are among unbiased peers - they are not Aragorn the heir and his younger brother in Gondor, but Thorongil and Eliarâd. Two people who are judged on their own merits, not as much on their birthright. His worries are clear in his mind, and hearing an insecurity you have been confirmed out loud is never great.

As an adult: Those words being said to him while he was younger still ring in his ears some days. They drive him a lot, and they also make him very brittle around these words. These are the words that, when said, cause the room to freeze. When you see Aranuir shut down for a second, before becoming neutral and storming out. Willing himself not to cry in front of people, then hoping he can because maybe it’ll get rid of the horrible emotions he feels in his chest.

Intent: Will always resent the person for saying this. Even if it’s true for whatever reason, it makes him tense. I don’t really see him ever getting over someone saying this to him - even if the lasting damage is simply a grudge rather than a full hatred. His one exception is Faramir. That, however, is for the shared experience of having the golden child as your sibling - and when it’s said it’s with bitter humour, or layers that the other understands. They know each other is not saying it in the insulting way they always fear.

Homosexual tendencies

(I know this is not the right word - but this time we’re going for theme, and I’m pretty sure everyone knows what I mean.) Aka, the word that hasn't been decided on yet (mainly because I still need to figure out what’s historically appropriate). Instead, this will more touch on the general themes - and if it was brought up (from a derogatory perspective).

As a child: Aranuir takes a long time to fall in love with someone. And, although he finds certain people very attractive or ‘sexy’ - it’s never been something that he’s cared too much for, especially as a child. Why should he care about elven people when there are books and languages and swords? Also, he doesn’t really ever encounter it as a child. Everyone in Rivendell doesn’t really care that Aranuir doesn’t have crushes, and he never really gives an inkling that he might like men. The few people who pick up on it certainly don’t comment.

While serving the steward: This time it’s kept a lot more guarded. This could jeopardise his brother's place in high society, and there’s no way he’d risk that. Besides, there’s only one or two people he even likes at that time - and he knows he can’t pursue either of them. The few times it’s hinted at, it’s said as a cruel joke - a poking fun that, for someone his age and rank, surely he’d have found or looked at a maiden by now? He doesn’t laugh at them, but instead a tight lipped smile as he says his one love is Gondor, and that he’s waiting for the maiden. It chills him inside though, and it’s something he worries about. More for his status than people actually thinking there’s something wrong with him.

As an adult: Pre-Fellowship it’s largely the same. Post-Fellowship and in courting? Something in his mind still tells him that what he’s doing is wrong because it’s bringing others down. It’s tainting their reputation, and what he gets from it doesn’t outweigh the damage he’s doing. You can see his composure slip for a second as he’s called it, and a scared man who wants to be like peeks out underneath. Weighs on his self-image a lot as well.

Intent: A joke because he’s yet to pursue a woman? Slight stiffness, but maybe he’ll laugh among rangers. Not in high society. A cruel joke that suggests he is? He doesn’t laugh - he denies it, but he doesn't allow people to think it’s funny. Even if he becomes open about his courtship (something I occasionally go back and forth on), it’s still something he tenses regardless of jest or not. Only gets really angry if the comment is directed at Boromir. Will throw hands then.

Well, that got away from me a little. A lottle. But I do hope whoever's stuck around to the end likes this infodump of Aranuir! (here's the question list this came from)

[alianoralacanta]

My First Race (13-03-2007)

Context: While waiting for the 2007 season to start, there was a forum thread about the first race everyone had attended live. This was before I could travel to races independently, but I did have a story to tell (even if the flies get more of a starring role than Michael Schumacher did), and it was long enough to need to go on my blog…

Warning! Long post alert!

I'm still waiting for my first GP race, but Dad did take me to the 2002 British GP qualifying. Boy was it a memorable day!

Having done my last GCSE exam the previous morning, I got home to discover that Dad had got qualifying tickets at the last minute (two friends had tickets, but couldn't go for reasons I never established). We promptly spent the next few hours getting necessary supplies - stuff for making sandwiches for lunch, earplugs for my rather sensitive ears, wellington boots that didn't have holes in them (in case of mud) and a little bag that folded out into a seat.

Waking up at 4:30am the next day, Dad and I were in our hitherto reliable red Volvo on the road to Silverstone by 6:00am. Everything was going fine and I was just remarking about how little traffic we'd seen when the fan belt went on the Volvo. It was 8:05am and we were just about to leave the M1. After a long wait and an even longer journey in a breakdown vehicle, we eventually found ourselves in Lutterworth at about 8:40am. Fortunately the local garage fixed the problem very quickly, an event Dad attributed to us telling the garage that we were heading for Silverstone…

We finally got to the track just in time to see Eddie Irvine's Jaguar go down the back straight for the last time in the morning practise. After that, we walked halfway round the track to see the paddock, with armful of Jordan advertising. The merchandising area looked really interesting, particularly for me whose previous experience of F1 merchandise stretched to a battered McLaren hat one my brother's friends gave me the previous year. Speaking of hats, Dad and I both bought a hat - Dad got a Ferrari cap and I got a Jordan one.

After this, we continued around the outside of the track, looking at all the corners. It was about when we got to Stowe that Dad noticed a problem. There was a swarm of flies and a few wasps hanging around my head! I had foolishly picked a yellow Jordan hat instead of a black one, and the poor insect life around Silverstone must have thought I was a giant flower…

The next thing we did was eat lunch while listening to the circuit radio. Dad and I had chosen the exit of Club corner for our area, and it was a very good choice. Not only could we see everything from the Stowe exit to the start of the Luffield complex, but there was also a giant TV in the vicinity. Halfway through our sandwiches, the action began.

Seeing an F1 car in its full glory was really exciting, but seeing several together was about the most thrilling thing I'd seen in my life! Hearing the V10s and seeing the different lines everyone took was exciting, especially in the rare moments I could hear the commentary over the sweet song of metal on edge. The intellectual interest was high too; not only was there the pole chase, the Jordans and the home drivers to watch out for, there was also the question of whether Alex Yoong would qualify (he didn't) and whether Arrows would even bother to participate (they did; it was the last time Arrows put its whole heart into a race weekend, too).

As a Jordan fan, I'd've been happier if that song had not been punctuated with the awful scrape of Sato's nosecone dragging on the tarmac (it fell off its connectors on its own accord, apparently) and if Fisichella's original engine had stayed operational for more than one-and-a-half laps. This was probably why I couldn't find anything suitable to say to the Jordan staffer I saw a few hours later in the petrol station on the way out…

You may have noticed that at no point during any of this did I need the new wellies. In fact, Dad and I got back with sunburn. We'd packed the bag with stuff for every weather, including a complete change of clothes - except for sunscreen. For once, summer was in Britain - and I forgot to plan for it!

As for the grid, I considered it a fairly minor matter until I got back home to watch the video Mum did of the coverage, but it went:

1st…Montoya (a fast lap that seemed to come out of nowhere, but Montoya then went nowhere fast on race day)

2nd…Barrichello (unusually, he beat his team-mate, and would go on to have an eventful race and still come 2nd)

3rd…Michael Schumacher (took it a bit steady, but won the race next day)

[darkcircles4lyfe]

fyi: I’m staying away from leaks

If you want to know my thoughts about recent events, here they are:

So idk if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but when I started watching and reading bnha I made a point not to engage with the fandom until I was caught up, because I didn’t want spoilers. When I finally made it to the current chapter, it was around the end of the first war. That’s when I started looking at what other people were saying, and that’s when I found out about when/where leaks were. I’ve been tuning in ever since, for a few reasons that I only rarely stop to interrogate. First and foremost: I’ve liked the extra time to prepare what I want to say if the chapter contains a major revelation or cliff hanger I want to write about. It’s satisfying to punctuate my Sunday morning with a fully fleshed out essay I can immediately post. Then of course it’s also fun to participate in the Moment that leaks create, especially because they unfortunately tend to make the officials feel like an afterthought. And let’s not lie to ourselves—a major reason we tune in is because of FOMO. Everyone else is doing it. You don’t want to be left out of the conversation and not know what’s going on. I especially wanted to know ahead of time about lines that might get butchered in the official English translation. It was nice knowing that Horikoshi didn’t write that “Swiss cheese” line, right? These are some understandable reasons.

But since the routine got disrupted a little, I kinda got slapped in the face with enough clarity to start asking myself: what would I actually get the most enjoyment out of? Because when I heard the (now outdated) news that leaks were no more, I was actually relieved. So. That’s cause for some reflection. I’m like, man, what if I did tune out of social media entirely, wake up on Sunday, have my nice little home cooked breakfast, and read the new chapter for the first time over a cup of tea. What if I experienced the surprises as I turned the page and they stared me in the face, with Horikoshi’s beautiful artwork in HD.

Sure, I’d need to catch up after the fact if there’s any translation fuckery, but that’s okay. That’s doable. Bless the folks who take the time to comb through the Japanese and explain the nuance to everyone else. This is tangential, but I’ve also started thinking even more about how satisfying it would be to edit my own versions (for personal use only of course). That’s a… long-term goal, but maybe it’ll take care of my annoyance with the ‘official’ blunders and bad dialogue. The point is, idk if making myself aware of that stuff should be my #1 priority, above even reading the chapter in the first place. If anything it just makes me more pissed off and fixated on what might be wrong. Which is valid… but distracting. I should prioritize having fun as much as I can.

The other thing is, I’m kind of a social media lurker anyway. I don’t say much in the moment, and I don’t post often. On twitter I mostly just engage in other people’s comments. And it’s not like thousands of people are waiting to hear what I think. Like I said, my personal incentive is to get a head start on analyzing so I can pull together a long, thoughtful response in a more timely manner. But I don’t have to do that. I might as well just embrace my cryptid tendencies—you get my two cents whenever I feel like crawling out of my well.

I don’t want to moralize this whole thing, ask you to think about how the sausage gets made, but I will say I’m looking forward to finding out about big moments without seeing them in the form a short summary tweet first. I mean, c’mon… leakers know how to build hype to an extent but it’s still no substitute. It’s like listening to a sportscaster on the radio instead of watching the game. As we get closer to the end, I just want to savor it!

[kakushigo]

Writing patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! (Tagged by @merinnan)

Technically, Zhao Yunlan hadn't intended to steal Shen Wei's sleeve garters and become a thief. (Stolen Moments of a Life, part of the Thief!Shen Wei series. Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei from Guardian. Usually written for Syn, since she's like 50-75% to blame for the plot bunny)

It wasn't unusual that Lee Dongsik brought meat for Joowon to cook for their meals - he was close friends with Jaeyi, who owned a butcher shop and always saved the best cuts of meat for her friends. (Cooked with Love, a Han Joowon/Lee Dongsik from Beyond Evil fic with Hannibal vibes featuring kitchen blowjobs for 31 days of smut)

Han Joowon had always known that the only reason his father had him was so that he could carry on the family's name in some fashion. (with this ring, I wed thee a Han Joowon/Lee Dongsik Alpha/Beta/Omega AU for 31 days of smut.)

 Yunlan wasn't entirely sure how he got here - naked, legs up, with not!Shen Wei's tongue lapping at his asshole like it was an Olympic sport. (Eat You Out & Eat You Up a fic in which Zhao Yunlan & Ye Zun have sex, while Zhao Yunlan pines for Shen Wei. Takes place during that episode where Ye Zun pretends to be Shen Wei. Also part of the 31 days of smut)

Waking comes slowly to Yunlan - he feels like he just finished a really good sleep and lethargy still grips him as his eyes slowly open. (Naked & Not So Afraid - A Weilanzun tentacle fic, because there needs to be more of them. Zhao Yunlan gets kidnapped & egged up & he wants seconds. Part of 31 days of smut)

Joowon had spent nearly two hours in this bar since Kwon Hyeok left. (With a Gun Against My Head (feels like home) - a Han Joowon/Lee Dongsik fic featuring criminal Dongsik, a gun, and sex. Also part of the 31 days of smut)

There are official avenues for Dongsik to visit the King's chamber. (In the Silence of my Heart another Han Joowon/Lee Dongsik AU. This time featuring King!Joowon & General!Lee Dongsik in which Dongsik sneaks into the king's room to fuck Joowon. Also part of the 31 days of smut)

Ye Zun watches hungrily as Da Qing stretches in their shared bedroom. (Softly, Gently, and With Feeling - Lazy morning Da Qing/Ye Zun sex for 31 Days of Smut)

Zhao Yunlan did not forget that Shen Wei lived across the hall from him - he couldn't, even if he wanted to. (Forget Me Not, a prequel to the first one on this list. More Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei featuring thief!Shen Wei.)

"What's my pretty wife cooking for me?" Dongsik asked, arms looping around Joowon's back while he peered over Joowon's shoulder in an attempt to see what Joowon was doing. (Bun in the Oven, the sort-of sequel to #3 on this list. Omegaverse fic in which Han Joowon is pregnant and gets fucked over a kitchen counter)

What this shows me is that I have some favorite punctuation and I introduce my characters as quickly as possible. Number ten is an outlier - I rarely start with dialogue. I rarely use dialogue, though I'm trying to get better at that.

It's also possible that this isn't indicative of my writing style at all, as most of these were part of 31 days of smut, which was just me trying to write as much smut as I could.

tagging @synonemous even though she's already been tagged b/c I'm a menace

[sphxremint]

(man this art is really old but im usin it anyway lol)

☆ heya heya! it's me, Mint!

i'm the guy that does the funny draws (and music (and sometimes edits)).

some of you have definitely heard that line way too many times before. some of you probably still know me as the Simple Yet Stupid guy from like two years ago. if you haven't seen me before... congratulations! you've successfully met "that guy" (me) for the first time!

This is my tumblr. I say things and I reblog stuff I think is neat and post art/music/stuff I like once every [unspecified time frame]. I dipped (sort of) from Twitter like a year or two ago because some guy had too much fun ruining it. I'm a lot less active on medias in general but I like to pop by here now and then.

...right, this is an intro post. lemme get on that...

☆ cool stuff you should know

• i'm 20 (born July 4th, on MINT day. not whatever the hell independence day is. eugh)

• he/they + aroace (certain of it now! we out here)

• i'm black (there's like no way to make this funnier it just is what it is)

☆ some other neat stuff

• I draw!

i'm not consistent with it at all. but I'm trying, 'cause it's fun and I like doing it. I may be into a lot of medias too, but I'm mostly an oc artist, and it's a curse I will bear until the end of time

• I make music!

i'm also not very consistent with it. i talk about it a tad less than i do other things, so it goes under the radar sometimes. i think it's fun, too; it's more of a personal thing compared to my art, though.

• CST timezone moment

...which is about UTC -05:00. in case you need to know that. i know we all got varied timezones around here

• I'm very good at being inconsistent!

such as basic punctuation and grammar. if you haven't noticed yet. like that stuff is important... sometimes i'll actually use apostrophes and sometimes ill just completely forget mid-sentence. lmao

☆ my 5 core interests

aka. the main things i like! it's been several years and they still haven't left my thoughts. i switch between the five of these on a whim. you can inquire me about any of these.

Be ready when it happens.

• Sonic The Hedgehog

(he's just THAT GUY, yknow. just a guy who loves adventure. ultimate life forms and two-tailed foxes and whatnot)

• Kirby

(i'd forfeit everything for him. #1 blorbo living life)

• FINAL FANTASY

(esPECIALLY XIII (13) and XIV (14). but it's mostly XIV. two lalafells reunite after being apart for forever and now they're world's strongest duo. partners in crime)

• Celeste

(#1 game ever. i love everything about it so much, i naturally get my friends to play it. i'm also pretty good at speedrunning. maybe grandmaster levels of good. smile)

• and osc stuff!

(though I'm not part of the fandom "like that". just on the surface layer, yknow? bfdi, ii, boto, ppt2... and my own objects of course. funny shows go brrr)

☆ cool and awesome tags

□ #mint.txt = probably some random garbled text i spat out one night

□ #mintdraws = i sure do! and you should go look at it!

□ #mint.png = funny image included (not guaranteed)

□ #mint.mp3 = rarely use this but i still want people to know i make music

□ #mint.ask = because i get those. sometimes art, sometimes stupid funny stuff

□ #simple yet stupid = yeah its for those funny objects i talk about. i put this one here just in case

□ #mint's expoboard = i'm probably talking about one of my ocs

☆ and some extra stuff i guess

□ my sonas and stuff

if you need that

□ my carrd

go read it cause most of my extra links (and contacts) are already there

□ my toyhou.se

Did you know I have a toyhou.se? Because I never shut up about my characters, and sometimes people just need the Repository of Information. Well... here it is.

okay. I'll update this post more as time goes on, but... that's about it. that was probably like a read and a half. oops.

Remember: if you do follow me, you are (unofficially) officially consigning yourself to my presence and any stupidity and/or brainrot that follows.

...if that's cool with you. =ᴗ=)b

(big shoutouts to the old pinned i had. you will forever be missed)

last updated: May 07th, 2025

[megaawkwardhuman]

8 shows to get to know me

thanks for tagging me @someguywife

an excuse to talk about the shows I like? sign me the fuck up!

WARNING: A LOT OF INFO DUMBING I TRIED TO JUST SUM UP WHAT I LIKED ABOUT THESE SHOWS BUT I COULDN'T RESIST GOING ON LONG TANGENTS ABOUT THEM SO I GAVE UP ON THAT REAL QUICK

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

1) what we do in the shadows- I mean considering how much I post about it and the fact it got me to write my first ever fanfic no shit I love this show! I mean it's got gay people, causal murder, people who have no idea wtf they're doing, vampires, weird ass CGI baby for a season, emotional devastation, did I say gay people? I will admit when I first watched the show I honestly thought it was just ok (may have to do with the fact that halfway through watching it I got sick which is funny cause when I watched the OG film I was also sick and I'm sick now while working on my fic- AM I CURSED!?) but after showing my friends the 2014 film decided to rewatch the show before showing it to them and got fucking OBSESSED. Never been a huge fan of vampire shit but now whatever vampire media I consume next HAS to have gay people in it thanks to this show. It still feels weird to have a character I like and relate to that I can kinda actually see myself in like Guillermo and while we're not 100 the same I still kinda feel seen which is fucking weird ngl. HIS COMING OUT SCENE MADE ME CRY THE SECOND TIME I WATCHED IT. (probably cause that's roughly how coming out to my parents as trans and pan went just without the whole working for vampires thing) Low key scared for what the fuck season 5 has in store :D

2) our flag means death- I fucking LOVE this show! shout out to my friend for showing it to me cause I never would have thought that a show about gay pirates would be for me. Our flag means death has just this vibe to it that has me addicted to it and the love story that I'm STILL surprised a year later they actually went through with just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! The fact that a show that does what our flag means death does AND GET RENEWED FOR A SECOND SEASON brings a big fat smile to my face! Stede going in head first with an obsession while having no idea what he's doing is a fucking mood. can't wait for season 2 hopefully it won't leave me screaming at my screen like last season! OH YEAH I ALMOST FORGOT I'm SO glad they portrayed Mary the way they did! like they could have easily made her into an unforgivable bitch or homophobic as fuck but no I mean sure she's upset for what Stede did (if you were in her shoes you would be too) but after attempted murder and a bunch of shenanigans beforehand they talk it out and find a compromise that they both like and the fact that she's happy for him for finding love even if it's a guy and she isn't secretly jealous or disgusted by it is just *chef's kiss* so good.

3) moral orel- well let's go from modern live-action shows with gay people to a stop-motion adult cartoon from the mid 2000s! I can still remember watching this show for the first time since I binged it all in one night (by the time I finished it it was like 5am WOOPS) and I don't fucking regret it this show is just fucking fantastic. I HATE THAT IT WAS PULLED FOR BEING "TOO DARK" THE MORE I READ ABOUT WHAT THEY HAD PLANNED THAT THEY HAD TO CANCEL DUE TO THE SHOW'S CANCELLATION THE MORE PISSED OFF I GET! Like it's the darker episodes that make the show SO DAMN GOOD and memorable. HELL the episode that got the show canceled (I think it's called alone) IS ONE OF THE BEST EPISODES. The way it portrayed people handling trauma is fucking fascinating and it's a shame the episode is what got the show pulled. The season two finale two-parter I also up there as one of the greatest episodes in the show. The way the tone shifts as Clay gets more and more drunk and what went from a thing mainly played for laughs turns into a painful moment for Orel as he realizes just how awful his dad is especially when he's drunk. This isn't to say the less serious episodes aren't good. The show can be really funny when it wants to but it's just the more serious episode that leaves an impact on you. When hopping into the show for the first time I heard it was a satire show that was a parody of christian shows I was expecting every other joke to be bible bad (not a christian so I wouldn't have gotten offended but still it would have gotten tiring) but god I was relieved when I found out it was more making fun of those who use faith for all the wrong reasons then pointing the blame to an old ass book. overall 10/10 show that might not be everyone's cup of tea but I personally LOVE it. It's been a while since I last watched it but talking about it makes me wanna watch the entire show again. TL;DR: I fucking love this show and the reason it got canceled is the reason why I love it.

4) invader zim- OK time to move on to something less serious. It's also been a bit since I've last seen this show but it still has a close place in my heart. Invader zim aka the reason I have a tumblr account in the first place (though it wasn't until later when I started to actually use it. when I first made this account it was to lurk) is a nice little show I can watch and not over analyze the shit out of. (I do that a lot with shows I like) I watched this show at a very interesting time in my life. I had recently realized I was trans and had no idea how I was going to tell anyone and funnily enough a couple of days after I realized I was trans quarantine hit so needless to say it was an interesting time for me. This show and the fan stuff on tumblr for the show kept me sane. Dib was one of the first characters I ever related to and as you can tell by me still using him as my profile pic I still do. another show that the more I learn about what they had to cancel due to the show being canceled the more pissed off I get. I forget this is a kid's show half the time.

5) hannibal- I feel bad for my friends cause when I finished this show I WOULDN'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT. This show is the reason I actually use my tumblr account. (cause I paused it and it looked like Will and Hannibal were about to kiss and I needed to share it with someone and none of my friends have seen the show so I threw it onto here and the rest was history) I don't remember why I watched this show but I'm glad I did cause it's fucking great the mystery the first time you watch it and the set up of the answer the second time you watch it is just *chef's kiss* 10/10. The way they portrayed Will and Hannibal's relationship is so fascinating like it's so complex AND GAY. I WANT ANOTHER SEASON DAMN IT THAT CLIFF HANGER (hehe cliff) HAD BEEN KILLING ME EVER SINCE THE FIRST WATCH!!!!!!

6) the last of us- Ok so confession: I haven't finished the show (I have one episode left but I'm watching it with friends so it's probably going to be a bit before I watch it) BUT FUCK DO I LIKE THIS SHOW. I haven't played the games but from what I heard this is a rare video game adaptation that ISN'T dogshit so I might watch a let's play of the game after we finish it since I like the show so much. This has to be one of the most realistic representations of a zombie apocalypse I've ever seen. (granted I haven't consumed much zombie media and it could be the fact that before this the same friend is showing us the walking dead which granted CAN be good at times the way characters act most of the time at least at the point we were at before taking a break where annoying and frustrating) EPISODE 3 WAS THE FIRST TIME I EVER SOBBED AT A SHOW. Fun(?) fact: that date on the letter at the end of that episode august 29 IS MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY 😭. I'm afraid of what episode 9 has in store.

7) south park- despite having a dad who quotes this show and would watch episodes in the living room growing up it wasn't until after watching the last of us one time with friends did I ever end up watching a full episode of the show. (I forgot what episode we watched before watching south park but we all decided we needed a pick me up after it) While I'm not obsessed with this show and I haven't seen all of it (if it was possible to watch that much south park without going insane) I still like this show. Another one of those shows I can watch casually without overanalyzing it. Whenever I need a break from writing my fic or whenever I just feel like it I just pick an episode I heard was good and just watch it. The history behind this show and behind certain episodes I've always found interesting. Though I'm going to be honest for now I'm going to avoid most modern episodes cause I've heard mixed things about newer seasons. Butter's own episode, Cartman sucks, and Butters's bottom bitch has to be some of my favorite episodes. if you can't tell by my fav episodes Butters is my favorite character.

8) the owl house - FUCK YOU DISNEY THIS SHOW DESERVED BETTER!!!! Another kid's show I forget is a kid's show. the way the boiling isles are drawn hell the overall art of the show is just so fucking fantastic. THERE'S GAY IN IT!!!! LIKE ACTUAL CANONICAL GAY IN A DISNEY SHOW!!!!! I never thought I would see the day BUT HERE I AM AND AAAAAAA LUZ AND AMITY ARE SOOOO CUTE TOGETHER! KING OMFG KINGGGGGGGGGGG HE'S MY LITTLE BABY AND THE SEASON TWO FINALE MADE ME STRESS EAT FOR THE FIRST TIME. So sad that season three was cut down to three episodes. The idea that something you put a bunch of hard work into can be cut short cause someone didn't like the vibe is fucking BULLSHIT!

I would tag other people here but in the wise words of Laszlo

[lovebugmusings]

200 mile (per hour) club {tangerine}

bullet train tangerine x fem!reader SMUTTY (minors DNI)

requested: n/a

words: 5.8k

a/n: I have had this thought for weeks since finally watching bullet train and writing this very much was a “fuck it we ball” moment. also canon is taken as a suggestion during this fic because in order for things to work, some of the plot must be ignored

This fic contains smut! I don’t normally post smut here, and have rarely reblogged smuts. But… i really wanted to write this and share it so here we are. The reader is afab :) and the codename is… a personal favourite 😅. the original idea/draft of this fic was sent to @jangofctts but as said above, fuck it we ball and the full fic gets written!

warnings: afab!reader, swearing, smut!, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation (fem), p in v, bad attempts at northern british vernacular, use of the word cunt instead of pussy (not intentional it's just... it flows better), no proofreading we die like men, canon is a suggestion (aka canon variance),

pronouns: she/her

MINORS DNI. any minors liking/reblogging/commenting on this fic will be blocked.

(this is your reminder that i am australian and therefore use british english and punctuation. while i do make errors, often times it is a difference in english type)

You wedged your phone between your shoulder and ear as your partner, Evaline, spoke about the nuances of a cartoon they had gotten really into while the pair of you had been in Japan. 

“Listen, Ev,” you handed the teller your crumpled yen notes with a smile - asking for a ticket to Kyoto - as you spoke down the phone, “I love you and am happy to listen to you talk- Arigatou Gozaimasu- to you talk, but can this wait until after I’m done?” Despite being partners, they were the one to stay in whatever hotel room you were set up in and work as your handler. 

Squeezing between the crowds of people, you quickly made your way toward the bullet train station. You glanced at your ticket, checking the platform for the umpteenth time since getting the ticket to make sure you were walking in the right direction. 

“You know that if I bottle this up, it will only make it worse when you get back.” You snorted in amusement, swapping the ear your phone was pressed to. “But fine, okay. I’ll keep conversation job oriented.” You thanked them just as you stepped onto the train. 

Carefully, you made your way toward your seat, sliding down into it before unzipping your small backpack. 

“So your target will be getting on the train in two stops, but won’t be getting off until Kyoto so you have time.” Out from the small pack, you pulled out a book, leaning back to rest against the wall and kick your feet up onto the joined seat beside you. The perfect way to carefully watch the aisle. “But you will be at Kyoto in about two and a bit hours. You read the briefing I sent you?” It was their not-so-subtle way of asking you if you actually knew who your target was.

“You sat beside me as I read it.” You laughed. 

“Just checking.” Their voice sing-songed down the phone. “Last thing; codename.” You breathed out, almost hoping that they had forgotten and you would be able to choose your own. Sometimes you thought that Eva gave you your codenames to get back at you for something, or just to have a laugh from their end of the jobs. Only once did they forget and you got to pick your own codename. But only once. 

“Alright, what is it this time?” You could practically hear their smirk as they replied;

“Angel.”

--

Between jobs, sometimes you and Evaline got to hang out and just relax. Although you were partners, you didn’t always get moments together were you could just be friends.

So you ordered room service of the most expensive wines and liquors on the list and got drunk together. 

As usually happens, the drunken chatter turned to a game of truth or dare, asking questions that had never come up in your friendship or partnership before. 

“Okay, okay okay,” despite already having your full attention, Eva tapped at your knee. “Truth or dare?” Although the dares were quickly discarded after you ate a full spoon of hot sauce and Eva nearly threw up after putting nearly a full banana down their throat, the question was still asked.

“Truth please.” You fell back as you dragged out the ‘e’ sound.

“What petname makes your knees go weak?” 

---

“Are you fucking with me right now?” You nearly dropped your phone. You heard the sounds of Eva throwing their head back laughing, and the short shriek as they nearly fell off their chair. 

“Sorry, sweetcheeks. That’s the name you’re stuck with.” They reply between laughs while you let out a hum, half closing your eyes suspiciously. “Anyway, enjoy your book. I’ll check in with you when the target gets on the train.” 

You felt your body shift forward slightly as the train finally took off from Tokyo station and you let yourself sink comfortably into your chair. The book you were reading was one that was worn from being dragged around for the last few months and many, many attempts to read it. So you had been taking every opportunity to read little bits and pieces when and where you could. You unfolded a dogear you had made in the page and continued reading the beat-up little book, the sound of the train speeding along its tracks becoming a soft white noise in the background. 

Just as you flip the page, out the corner of your eye you see someone sit down in one of the seats opposite you. You let your eyes flick up to see who it is, and try to hide the way your breath catches as you recognise him. 

His hair is a little longer, and his three-piece is all in place and free of blood, but you had run into him enough times to know him with the smallest of looks despite all the differences. 

But you return your eyes back to your book, pretending that there wasn’t a reaction somewhere inside of you at seeing him again. 

“I hope you aren’t here alone.” You spoke without looking up. “Nobody needs to deal with only one half of the Wonder Twins.” He let out a snort and you saw his fingers appear on the top of your book as he leaned across the table to push the book down. The forced movement had your eyes finally met his. 

“Never go on a job without him.” He winked, doing very little to try to hide his smirk.  You rolled your eyes, marking your page and swinging your legs off the seat to face him properly. “Good to see you again, gorgeous. Been a while. Too long really.” He looked you up and down slowly, as he spoke, tilting his head and twisting one of his rings. 

“Not long enough.” You replied with a half smirk, and he raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “So, what’s your name today?” He leaned back with pride, opening his thighs slightly and folding his arms. 

“I’m Tangerine, he’s Lemon.” You couldn’t help the laugh that broke through, and your hand shot to your mouth to cover the rest of the noise. 

“Wow, your handler must hate you.” You said, shaking your head and amusement still present in your voice. Tangerine’s eyebrows pinched as his mouth dropped open a little.

“First, we have no handler, thank you very much, darlin’. Second, I thought the names were quite clever.” You raised your hands in surrender, tilting your head. “But alright, if you think our’s are so bad, what name ‘ve you got, hm?”

If you had paused, for just a moment, before you spoke, you would have realised far sooner.

“For now, I’m Angel.” When he repeated the name back to you with a hum, you realised. Somehow, Evaline had known he would be on this train with you, and that you would cross paths. They knew about the business flirtationship you had with Tangerine, having been stuck listening on more than one occasion, and they were also very good at remembering things, including you drunkenly telling them what petname turns your knees to jelly (and a man who sometimes also had that power). 

Your mouth opened a little as you let out a small breath and silently prayed that he didn’t notice your reaction. Once you recomposed yourself, you reached for your phone. 

“So, Angel,” Tangerine leaned forward and leaned on the table, flexing his shoulders slightly and you had to fight the way your brain gave you the image of him calling you angel while his shoulders flexed above you, “what’re you doing in Tokyo? Business, or pleasure?” You glanced at him over the top of your phone as you sent Eva an all-caps message of thinly veiled threats. Tangerine emphasised the word pleasure in both his tone and a slight raise of his eyebrows.”

“Business, for now.” You meant the statement more as you would be a tourist once the job was done, but the moment you stopped talking, you could see a particular look in his eye. 

“‘For now, aye, Angel?” Tangerine’s tongue ran along the back of his top teeth, and your core tightened. You could only hum your reply, worried that if you tried to say anything your voice would break. 

You notice as his eyes look past you, over your shoulder and down the aisle to the door. He nodded at whoever he saw - you assumed his brother as he never worked with anyone else - before looking back at you and tugging his blazer tighter over his shoulder. 

“So sorry to love you ‘n’ leave you, Angel,” Tangerine stood in the aisle and ran his hands down his chest, smoothing down the fabric, “but business calls. Maybe I’ll see you later.” With a final smirk and wink, he walked away. You listened for the sound of the train carriage door opening and closing, before you let out a sigh and sunk down into your seat.

You hand shot out as you suddenly reached for your phone, Evaline’s number already on speed-dial. The moment they answered, you skipped over pleasantries, quietly yelling at them down the phone. 

“How the fuck did you know he would be on this train?” 

“Ah, so he found you, then?” You could hear the smirk in their voice as they brushed past your rudeness

---

The first time you met Tangerine and Lemon, they were doing a snatch-and-grab in a warehouse that you were in the process of clearing. They had walked in, guns drawn, to you stood over a body in the middle of pulling a machete out of his throat. 

The sound of moving feet and the cocking of guns had you freeze and look up at the men. You mirrored each other as you each slowly raised your weapons and took the other in. 

They were in clean suits, ties gently tugged loose, and each had a plastic poncho tucked into their belts for easy access. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The shorter of the pair spoke, his accented voice bouncing off the walls in the otherwise silent room. 

“I’m not with them.” You lifted a bloodied boot and kicked one of the bodies by you as you spoke, joking and trying to gauge whether the new-comers were the backup or not. 

“I can see that, love.” The other man tilted his head forward with a smirk, and you ignored the warmth that began to rise. “You just here for the kill?” You lowered your weapon, hoping that they would mirror your movement now that you knew they weren’t on the same side as the various men who laid in pools of their own blood around you. 

“Take whatever you’re here for.” You gestured around to the doors behind you. “I’m just finishing up.” You dragged the machete along the inside of your sleeved elbow, cleaning off the blood before sheathing it at your hip.

You had walked out of the building shortly after that interaction, but the moment you met Eva in the waiting car, they turned to you immediately with a smirk.

“You good?” You sunk slightly in the seat and tried disappearing into the plastic sheet that protected it from blood and other fluids. 

“That taller one was… goddamn.” 

---

It was the first of a half-dozen run-ins with the twins, each time talking more and occasionally helping each other when things got sticky. And of course, Evaline made comments about your attraction. 

“Did you suggest this job on purpose or did you find out they were here afterward?”  You were almost afraid to hear the answer. Evaline was beyond clever, and should they have wanted, they would easily have been able to made it into a tech sector of a government agency. But instead, they chose to work with you and use their brains for less than legal means. So it wouldn’t have surprised you if they had gotten into one of their phones, or seen them on one of the many cameras in airports and around Tokyo. 

“Maybe this, maybe that.” Eva giggled at you, and you could hear the shiteating grin on their face. “Enjoy the view!” They sung the last syllable before hanging up on you, and you swore, slamming your phone down into the table. 

You felt the train pull into the first stop and you let yourself recline back again and relax. You weren’t normally on edge during a job, it was something you had been doing since you were eighteen and while you had nerves and your brain ran a hundred-mile a minute, it was never something that had you feeling it in your fingertips and the back of your neck. 

Though the edge that Tangerine had you on was different. It wasn’t one where you were wanting to look over your shoulder, hoping your reflexes wouldn’t be needed. But he had you in anticipation. Your body telling you that you needed him and was waiting for his fingers to graze your skin. And now he had that cursed codename to wrap his accent around. 

With the knowledge that Tangerine was on the same train as you, the book was no longer of interest. You had to read the same sentence over and over before you actually absorbed it. So as the train took off again, you shoved the book away and climbed to your feet. 

---

  “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” The twins jumped at the sound of your voice, letting out f-bombs as Lemon held a hand to his chest. 

After making your way through train cars, exploring out of both curiosity and in case of emergency, you found the twins having an apparently heated conversation in the baggage area of their train car. They were engrossed in a seemingly heated conversation about ass cheeks. You weren’t entirely sure, only hearing the tail-end before deciding to interrupt.

On your way down the corridor, you glanced at each person in their seats, pausing for a millisecond when you saw the twenty-something with face tattoos angrily slumped in his seat. 

The twins looked at each other quickly, then over your shoulder to where you were pointing with your thumb back down to where he sat before finally back to you.

“Depends on who you think that is, Angel.” You rolled your eyes at Tangerine then shifted your weight so that you were more fully facing Lemon. 

“Are you idiots kidnapping or returning the homeless-looking White Death’s son?” In the cramped luggage space, you did your best to put your hands on your hips. “Because one of those is certain death.” 

“Aww, you worried ‘bout us, Angel?” You let out a scoff at his comment. 

“You wish, I just need to know how far away from you I need to stay.” Tangerine muttered a joking ouch and you and Lemon share a look. 

“Returning ‘im.” Lemon ignored his brother, already used to and over his attempts to flirt. “Best of the best tasked with bringing him and his ransom back.” You cocked your head with a teasing smile. 

“Oh, ‘the best’, huh?” You replied with a hummed laugh. “Well, if that’s all… best of luck with,” you made a rough circular gesture with your hands, “all of that. I’ll probably be seeing you later.” You stepped between the two men, though Lemon stepped further away when giving you space to pass through. You could hear their interrupted argument reignite as the door closed behind you, and you continued to make your way through passenger cars until you reached the bar car. 

Inside, you saw a man clutching a bottle of dark liquor under a blanket, eyes hidden by sunglasses. You ignored him, not one to judge someone getting black-out drunk on a train, and stepped behind the bar, reaching around until you managed to make yourself a simple vodka and sprite.

Leaning on the bar counter as you sipped your drink, you took in the unconscious man. You almost choked on your drink as you realised who it was. The Wolf. You scrambled to pull your phone out of your pocket, speed dialling one of the only contacts you had in your phone. 

“Eva, we have a problem.” You carefully walked over to the Wolf as you spoke, noticing the blood on his hands and the lack of movement under the blue blanket. “Wolf got on the train early.” You quickly went back to the counter and swapped out your now-empty glass for a pair of ice tongs. Using the tongs, you moved the blanket away from the Wolf and found staining the white of his suit was a pool of dark blood, entry wound clear as day. “And it looks like somebody got to him first.”

“What do you mean? No, that’s not possible.” You could hear Evaline frantically type as they spoke. “God fucking dammit.” They sighed. “Fine just… take a photo of his body. Hopefully we can convince them that you killed him so we can still get paid.” You did as you were told, knowing that you would have to spin this in a way that would not end up with the pair of you getting killed for lying. 

After taking the photo you moved the blanket back to where it had rested, not wanting whoever killed him to know their victim had been found. 

“I guess you can sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride now.” Eva sounded defeated as they spoke. You hummed in agreement, then turned and left the car to return to your seat. 

On your way back to your original car, you saw a stressed looking Tangerine walking toward you. It took him a moment to see you as he checked each person sitting down while he walked, and when he did the stress fell from his expression and was replaced with a cocky smirk. 

“Angel!” The way he said the name sent a pulse to your core, but you refused to acknowledge it, not wanting to show him the effect the petname combined with his accent had on you. “Good to see you, gorgeous.” He finally reached you, barely a step in front as he looked down at you. “What’s up?” 

“My job on this train’s been done.” You shrugged. “Get to enjoy the ride to Kyoto.” The corner of Tangerine’s mouth quirked. 

“Wanna give me a hand with mine?” You couldn’t tell if the offer was serious, or if it was a friend or potential business partner. But there was a greedy and horny part of your brain that wanted to spend as much time with him as you could before leaving Japan. 

“Oh you must be in a lot of trouble to need my help.” You turned around, beginning to walk back in the direction you had just come from. “Who’re we looking for?” You felt him come up close behind you, the brush of his hand against yours. 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, Angel?” Tangerine’s voice was low in your ear, his breath hitting flyaways. Your breath hitched for a moment hearing his voice so deep and close to you. Then just as quick as the invasion of personal space came, he was gone again. “Some geezer in a bucket hat with thick rim glasses. Stole som’ing from us.” You thought you were imagining the sound of a smile in his voice, attributing it to his usual cocky demeanour. 

As you walked together, you and Tangerine spoke about yourselves - as best you could without revealing too much about your personal identities. You were quick to notice the way he would always include at least one “angel” in each sentence, saying it slightly differently each time. 

You felt Tangerine slide his hands onto your hips from behind, holding your breath as he leaned down and whispered into your ear. 

“Maybe once this is all done, we can spend some time together, Angel.” You spun around and felt his hands slide across your covered skin as you did, trying to compose yourself. Your body betrayed you though, your thighs very obviously squeezing together slightly, caused by the way he all but moaned the name into your ear.

“Fuck it.” You stepped back, letting his hands slide away, then grabbed one of his blazer lapels, dragging him the short walk to the cramped train bathroom. He made a surprised noise but made no effort to fight you. 

You pushed him down onto the closed toilet, turning to lock the stall door and spun on your heel to look at him. Tangerine had his legs spread, showing off his thighs as he let his hands rest on his upper thighs. He had a smirk on his face, only breaking it to poke out his tongue and lick his lips. You dragged your bottom lip into your mouth slowly, biting it gently. 

“Well fuck, love.” You dropped your lip with a short exhale, feeling that last little bit of resolve crumble. In the cramped bathroom, it only took you two steps to get to him, but you paused just in front of his thighs. “You’re welcome to sit.” Tangerine closed his thighs and brought his hands back to your hips, thumbs pushing up the fabric of your shirt to expose peaks of skin. You stepped forward, guided by his hands, and sat down on his strong thighs. 

It was the closest you had ever been to him, and the smell of his aftershave mixed with the feeling of his thumbs on your skin had you using what little resolve you had to stop your hips from rocking, grinding down to create any sort of friction. 

Tangerine had tormented you since he found you with your codename, and you could feel your heartbeat in your core grow each time he said it. It was cruel, how much he made you need him. 

Your hands refound their home on his lapels, pulling that last small gap closed to bring his mouth to yours. 

The kisses were hungry, desperate. Breathing each other in relief at finally having the intimate contact. Tangerine brought one hand up to the back of your neck, applying pressure with his thumb where your jaw met just below your ear. He used the change in hand placement to bring you even closer to him, and you let him, greedily shifting your hips closer to him with a slight grind. He hums out a groan against your mouth and you feel the tightening of his dark slacks. His mouth moved to your jaw and neck, leaving mouthy kisses against your skin. You let your hips continue to rock against him, noticing his own hips move slightly underneath you. Moving your hands away from his blazer briefly, you made light work of the buttons on his white shirt, loosening his tie so it hung undone around his neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, Tan.” You knew it was pathetic, confessing your long-term attraction for the British assassin. His fingers dug into your skin lightly at your words. 

“Feelin’s mutual, Angel.” His words were low against your skin before he quickly moved away from you. “Hold tight.” You tightened your grip on his blazer, quickly wrapping your legs around him as he stood up in the small bathroom space. 

Tangerine in his haste all but dropped you on the sink counter, and you let your legs fall from around him. One of his hands moved down and began its work undoing your jeans, running the backs of his fingers along your stomach and hips so he could feel the soft skin there, and you shivered at his touch and the sudden cool of his rings. 

When his hand made it to your hip, his other moved down to mirror it, two fingers on each side and tucked under your waistbands. 

Your hands slid to his shoulders and you watched through hooded eyes as Tangerine gradually moved down to a low squat, taking your bottoms with him. You shivered both from the cool of the train air conditioner and the way he was staring at you. As he stood, you kicked off your shoes and pants, allowing you to reopen your legs fully and allow Tangerine back into place, his hips pressed against yours. 

His mouth was quick to return to yours, eager to nip at your bottom lip and distract you from the cold of his rings and the feel of his hand sliding its way up your thigh.

You jolted when his thumb started rubbing light circles around your clit, whimpering into his mouth at the sudden change in stimulation. 

“Tan.” You sighed out his name against his mouth and to your relief, he began to move his thumb faster, adding a little more pressure as he did. You could feel him smirk against your mouth, and you retaliated by bringing one hand to the back of his neck and weaving fingers through his curls, giving them a slight tug. Tangerine grunted, pulling away while you held his lower lip gently between your teeth. 

“All good, Angel?” You hummed out an affirmative, knowing your voice wouldn’t hold, not when his thumb never stopped moving. 

Gradually, his hand moved down until Tangerine’s fingers were met with your building slick. You sucked in a harsh breath as he swiped two fingers up your cunt, collecting as much of the fluid as he could. He pulled his hand completely and you watched as he stared in fascination and you followed his line of sight to see as Tangerine rubbed his thumb and forefingers together, pulling away occasionally to see tiny strings connect his fingers. 

At the feeling of your eyes on him, Tangerine’s own flicked up to you. With a smirk, he quickly returned one hand to your core and the other sat on your bare hip, the hem of your shirt bunching on his wrist. Distracting you with a tight squeeze of his hand on your side, he slid a finger into you, dragging it out slowly only to quickly replace it with two fingers. 

Your head fell back against the mirror behind you and your mouth fell open, as Tangerine began an almost torturous paced drag of his fingers in and out of your cunt, matched by the movement of his thumb on your clit. Your hands blindly grabbed at his arms and shoulders, while Tangerine left open-mouthed kisses against your neck and jawline. 

As your nails dug into your skin, Tangerine moved between stretching his fingers inside of you, curling them upward to draw a broken moan from your throat, and pulsing his fingers in and out of you at an ever changing pace. He licked up the column of your throat as you whined out his name, and with every movement he made, he seemed to be trying to figure out which sound was his favourite. 

The wet sounds of his fingers working you were all but drowned out but your moaning and whining and pleading. 

“Tan, please-” your beg was cut off by the feeling of his spit hitting your cunt, adding an extra fluid into the mix quickly coating his hand, “need more.”

“I’ll fuck you properly in a minute, angel, promise.” You felt his low voice against your jaw. “Want you to cum on m’ fingers first.” Despite his generally cocky attitude, Tangerine wasn’t mean. He wasn’t going to get you so worked up with his fingers not to let you cum. 

Your grip on his arms tightened, desperate to grab onto something as Tangerine’s brutal pace never slowed. You felt the knot get tighter and tighter and your eyes rolled back, unable to bring your head up off the mirror behind you. With a broken moan, your cunt tightened in pulses around his fingers before finally the tightness let go. Tangerine’s fingers and thumb never stopped moving, greedily working you through your orgasm as your chest heaved and whines and moans bounced around the tiny bathroom. 

Tangerine slowly pulled his fingers out and you whined as he did, still sensitive. Once you managed to bring your head up and reopen your eyes, you were met with the glorious sight of Tangerine lazily sucking his fingers clean, eyes half lidded at the taste. 

“Angel, that was the most gorgeous thing ‘ve ever seen.” Your cheeks warmed at his words. “And you taste just…” Tangerine let out a short hummed moan, the only description he could think of. 

You reached out with slightly shaky hands, pulling him close enough that you could reach down and undo his belt, letting you at the fastenings of his slacks. Once they were undone, you moved your hands up slightly, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and pushing it back so you could drag your hands across his stomach. Your mind was still lightly foggy and you almost couldn’t believe the sight was real. 

Not that you would ever admit it, but there were more than a few nights where you had dreamt of what shirtless Tangerine would look like. And more than a few where your fingers had worked while you imagined they were his. But reality was so, so much better. 

Tangerine pulled you from your thoughts with his thumb gently running across your bottom lip.

“Still wi’ me?” There was a softness in his eyes, and his cocky smirk had dropped. 

“Yeah. Still here.” Your words were soft, and Tangerine smiled. 

With your hands still resting on his stomach, Tangerine reached down with his free hand, the other still holding your jaw, and thumbed away the elastic of his underwear to pull out his cock. You watched for a moment as he gently stroked his already hard cock, before pushing his hand away with one of your own, taking his cock in your hand and slowly gliding it up and down. You felt the weight, the veins, and your eyes flicked up to see his roll back for just a moment. 

You slide your hand up from his stomach to his chest, and gently lean forward to nip at his jaw. As you do, however, you slip back slightly, and fall into the small sink. You let out a tiny shriek as you fell, and Tangerine’s eyes darted open. He lets out a snort and an amused breath falls from your lips. You shook your head, taking your hands away from him completely to place them on the counter and pushed yourself out of the sink. 

“You all good, Angel?” Tangerine put no effort into hiding his amused smile and you rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe the sink isn’t the best place for this.” A shit-eating grin made its way onto Tangerine’s face. 

Before you could react, Tangerine pulled you toward him and you immediately locked your legs around his waist. You both let out quiet moans as his cock brushed against your slick-coated cunt, the friction against your clit encouraging you to roll your hips again. 

He picked you up as you ground against him and took two steps so your back met with the wall. Once you were pressed firmly against it and Tangerine knew that you wouldn’t fall, he moved one hand down and adjusted his cock so that he head pressed against your cunt. He dragged it up and down a few times, collecting your slick and cum as lube, before pressing in. 

Although he had stretched you nicely with his fingers, Tangerine’s cock pushed in far further, and you whined at the tight feeling of him stretching out your cunt. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to his size, until finally he bottomed out. Tangerine rolled his hips, not pulling out very far but still creating a nice friction while you got used to the full feeling. 

With a gasp of his name, you told him to move. And move he did. At an almost blinding pace, Tangerine pulled out until just his tip was inside of you, before pushing all the way back in. He braced himself with one hand squeezing the underside of your thigh, and the other pressed firmly against the wall beside your head. 

Your cunt squeezed around him as he moved. Although you both wanted to take your time and enjoy this at a slower pace, you were on a bullet train and he had a job to finish. So as fast as his hips would allow him, Tangerine ploughed into you. 

Once again, your head fell back against the surface behind you with a light thud, and Tangerine immediately returned to his assault on your neck and anywhere he could reach. You knew that in an hour, all the skin on your neck and jaw would be coloured purple and red, hickeys blossoming all across the skin. And while you knew the comments you would get from Eva and the looks you would get from other passengers, you didn’t care. 

Leaving one hand to scratch at Tangerine’s chest and shoulder, you brought the other down to rub circles on your clit. 

Against your skin, you felt the low rumble of Tangerine’s moans and gasps, and you clenched around his ever-moving cock trying to coax as many of those sounds out of him as you could. 

“Close, Angel.” It took you a moment to realise that he wasn’t asking if you were close again, but was warning you that he was, and your nails ran down his chest at the realisation. 

“In me.” While it wasn’t a full sentence, it was the best you could muster as he piledrived into you, leaving fingertip bruises on your thigh. Tangerine let out a broken moan at your words, more than happy to oblige. 

His hips began to stutter and you sped up your fingers against your clit, not wanting to be left with a built up orgasm for too long after his. After two particularly short thrusts, Tangerine’s hips froze and his head fell against your shoulder as he came inside of you. Not long after he had finished, your cunt clenched around him as you came again, high-pitched moan falling from your lips. 

Tangerine slowly dragged his cock out of your sensitive cunt, and you whined at the feeling. He gently sat you down back on the sink counter, knowing your legs would likely betray you. After using some toilet paper to clean off his cock, Tangerine gently pushed himself back into his underwear, glancing down at the stain you had made. You tiredly smirked, only to flinch as he brought over some clean toilet paper and as gently as he could, cleaned up much of the fluids that had made it onto your inner thighs. 

You sighed contentedly once you were clean, and happily accepted the gentle peck on your lips. 

“Once I’m done with this job,” Tangerine spoke softly as he picked up your discarded bottoms and guided them up your legs, kissing the skin before it was covered as he made his way up, “I’m takin’ you on a proper date.” 

mutual tagging: @websterss @jangofctts (i know i tagged you already but you're also now a mutual so two tags!) @faeology

post fic note: although i do not condone cheating nor the invasion of the private lives of celebrities, i DO condone aaron (allegedly) cheating on his crusty-ass, groomer wife with his bullet train costar joey. (also a couple of my warnings read like ao3 tags but they do still count as warnings so... leave me lmao)

reblogs and kind words are always appreciated

[blazehedgehog]

What do you think of Resetera?

I don't go there anymore and haven't in probably over a year. Or, at least, not of my own will.

Three years ago, I wrote: "if there's another exodus, I'll be one of the first off the ship."

There wasn't an exodus necessarily, but I realized I almost never went to Era for news on anything and mainly stuck to a very small handful of threads in the community forum (the Sonic thread, the indie dev thread, etc).

I did not use Resetera like most people did. And then the moderators started massively overstepping their boundaries, letting their egos get in the way, and generally acting like the kinds of people that I left NeoGAF to avoid.

I have friends who still go there a lot. It's through them (and places like Twitter) that I tend to stay up to date on what's happening in video games. Occasionally, like once every four months, when they post something in the group chat to make fun of a power tripping moderator or an especially stupid poster, I'll click through, but I find it difficult to care about that place anymore.

There are too many high-strung drama queens running the asylum and a lot of them fall on the spectrum of "we should give bad faith actors a chance to sell their propaganda." The website is a drama machine and a victim of the paradox of tolerance.

It's also just a place where idiots are allowed to run wild. No discussion happens there anymore. Just braindead, surface level replies and a race to be the first to make an "epic dunk." Most people are posting in their own little vacuums, repeating the same thoughts over and over and over. If someone happens to have a bad take, then the thread will be dominated by an argument for the next 50 pages.

Nobody is making friends at Resetera. It is the purest form of an echo chamber I've ever seen.

A month or two ago, during one of the rare moments where I clicked through to Era, I noticed it had finally logged me out and I felt no desire to log back in and check my threads. That seemed like the final punctuation mark.

It is a bad place to be.