#but it IS meant to be read as One Specific Way

[readychilledwine]

may i pretty please request a little cassian one shot where it’s a very out going reader who is NOT shy at all and never balks from anything unless it’s sex related and cassian absolutely loves undoing her once she gives in and making her all flustered and needy with his little taunts. LORD—

specifically from the smut prompt list:

“I know you’re not shy, so come here.” or like “Use your words, baby.” with a possible sprinkle of exhibitionism oh pls pls pls pls if this makes sense idk lol

Good Girl

Summary - Your birthday celebration at Rita's becomes Cassian's golden chance to end your 2 year shy and dry streak.

Warnings - voyeurism/exhibitionism, smut, fingering, oral, hair pulling, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, possession/ownership kink, dirty talk, cream pie

A/N - Happy Birthday, @sarawritestories! I was already finishing up this request, and your birthday actually made finishing this one shot easier. I wanted Cassian to have a special reason to fulfill one of reader's fantasies.

I hope you and my tumblr baby, @loneliestluvr enjoy this so so much 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

Cassian was watching you like a hawk tonight. Eyes glued on how your body danced in time to the music, to how Mor touched you as you two moved in time. He hated when you acted like this, so bold and brave in public. So okay with being touched by anyone but him. Talking a big bold game in your book club with Amren, Feyre, and Mor about wild sex you've never had.

You two had been mates for over 2 years, yet heated kisses and heavy petting was as far as you had let him go. It was driving him feral. Every time he had tried to get you into his bed or prepared to crawl on his knees to get into yours, it was something. “My cycle,” or “a headache,” or “Not a good body day,” whatever the fuck that meant. You were perfect to him. Curves in all the right places just begging and teasing him to touch. Cassian craved to be the reason your thighs clenched, to just once be the reason his shy girl screamed. He felt his lust growing as you and Mor approached the table, and the way your scarlet red birthday dress clinged to your figure, sparkling in the lights, made it worse. 

His mate, his love, looked like the picture perfect face of innocence in his color when he knew the nasty things you read about, talked about, and fantasized about was too much. “Come with me,” Cassian's alluring voice hit your ear so softly. You took his hand, following him with both of you carrying your drinks in hand. 

As Cassian pulled you further into Rita's, you began to blush. The lights had turned to a deep shade of red, doors locked and glowing to indicate they were occupied while some were open. Cassian smirked and pulled you into  his goal room, thankful that for once, it was empty. As if the Mother had intended for this night to go exactly as he wanted. He had you against the glass wall instantly when the door shut.

“Why are we in here,” your face began to flush his favorite shade of pink. Glaze tinted glass was the only thing separating you and Cassian from the rest of Rita's. The private room of the pleasure hall was reserved for only the most bold couples, showing just their silhouettes as they partook in activities you could hardly dream of. 

Cassian trapped you between him and that glass, towering over you, “Don't get shy on me now, baby.” His lips crashed on yours after the request, hot and heavy as he lifted you and forced your legs around his waist. You didn't know if it was the shots helping you relax, or your hope to have finally had birthday sex with Cassian, but here you were, moaning softly into his kiss as he pulled your hair back and began kissing down your throat and nipping softly. 

“Need you to be a good girl for me,” you shivered at his murmured words. “Going to fulfill that dirty little fantasy of yours. Give you the best birthday present." You couldn't help the soft moan and smile, knowing instantly what he meant.

This room was visible behind the bar. The silhouettes of the people inside dancing like shadows on that glass for all to see as they ordered their drinks. You had dreamed for years of being taken in this room and had made the mistake of drunkenly sharing that fact with Rhys and Azriel. 

Cassian began to untie the corset laces of your dress, suddenly annoyed by the back that the whole back was held together by the ribbon instead of him having to deal with just one small area. But Gods, it hugged you in the best places, showing your curves and dips in a way that had him drooling for you. He could hardly wait as it finally fell to the floor and you were bare beneath. He quickly set you on the lounging chair, knowing you were in view of everybody.

He'd never undressed himself so quickly, growling at the sight of your soft skin. Be wasted no time trailing his kisses lower. Worshiping each of your nipples until they came to perfect peaks. “Such a beautiful girl. My little exhibitionist.” He continued his path lower, nipping at your hips before kissing down your luscious thighs. He held eye contact with you then, as his kisses trailed up in the inside of your right thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

The question lit a fire inside of you, body now aching for more of him, to please him, “Yes, General.” He smirked as his title rolled off your tongue before licking up your core. The taste of you made him hum. And he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves slightly before circling and flicking it with his tongue. He repeated that after watching your head fall back and your body arch. 

He took his time, tasting every drop of you and rotating between sucking your clit and pushing his tongue as deep into you as he could. Your legs began to tremble below him after denying your body what you had craved for so long. You both knew it would be fast, hot, and passionate. You could worship each other at home, but here, here was built for sin, nothing more, nothing less.

Cassian began to slowly work a thick finger into you, stretching you open for him while his mouth focused on your swollen bundle of nerves. Your body felt as if you were burning alive as your stomach felt tighter and tighter. Moans and pants falling into breathless noises. Cassian listened with sick pride as his normally composed and eloquent mate began crumbling for him, because of him. 

He looked up and saw your pleading eyes, “What do you need? Use your words, baby.” He smirked as he went back to working your core, prepping you for your first time taking an Illyrian.

“More, please General, more,” you finally begged for him, eyes rolling back as your back arched hard. He worked a second finger into you, growling at how tight you were, at the thought of how good you'd feel around him. You cried out as his fingers finally found the spot he'd been looking for and curled into it. Moments passed like breaths, his name repeated over and over until you finally gave him what he wanted, your release. 

He knew other fae could hear you screaming his name in ecstasy, but he could not bring himself to care as he worked you down from the High. “That's my good girl,” he groaned as he pulled his mouth from you, licking his lips to savor every bit of your essence before pulling his fingers out and holding them to your mouth, “I want you to clean them. I want you to taste the nectar of a Goddess.”

The words hit exactly how he needed them and you became hazy eyed, licking and sucking his digits as an almost tingly feeling settled into your body. As soon as you were done, he flipped you over, pulling your hips in the air before you could try to protest or return any favors. Tonight was for you. For your pleasure, and he was just getting started.

You gasped as the feel of his cock lined up and sitting at your entrance, “Hold on to something, y/n.” He pushed in hard before you could respond, forcing you to plant both hands on the glass and keeping you trapped. “So fucking tight. The prettiest and most perfect pussy.” His pace became relentless quickly. Hand coming down on your ass before squeezing it hard. 

There were no words or noises coming from your mouth, just bliss making your jaw fall open in silence. You felt like you were drooling, drunk on him, on his feeling, on the way you could feel every vein and he pushed and pulled. But you weren't close enough for Cassian, and soon he grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he kept pounding into you. Your shoulders met his lower chest as his other hand moved to your front, brushing your clit slowly and teasingly. “Do you know how long I've waited,” his voice was low and deep, filled with his own pleasure. “Been dreaming about you going dumb on my cock for years and here you are, unable to even speak.”

You could only whimper in response as his hand moved from your hair to your throat, testing your limitations. “I could stay inside you forever,” his head fell back. “Love this body of yours forever. So fucking perfect. Every godsdamned inch of you.” The praise hit you, pushing you towards the edge again as his pace became sloppy. “Not going to last, baby. Cauldron this pussy. Best pussy I've ever had.”

That made you gasp, eyes lighting up in excitement, “Yeah? You love filling me, don't you?” His smirk grew at your response. “You love knowing my pussy is all yours, huh?”

He growled, a feral instinct waking up with those words. His fingers began to move fast in your clit, forcing words to turn to cursing, moans, and whimpers. “All fucking mine. My mate. My wife. My good girl. Mine,” the edge in his voice left no room for arguments, no way to fight and even try to claim otherwise if you had wanted. “Scream. Scream my name so every single soul in Velaris knows who you belong to.”

Your lip trembled as how close you were and you moaned his name, “Cassian-”

“Louder.”

His pace became impossibly quick and your mind became numb to anything but the pleasure of him hitting your gspot over and over while his fingers worked your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cassian!”

“Come. Come for your General.”

You came screaming his name so loudly you were sure all of Velaris did know who you belonged to. Your core began fluttering around Cassian, triggering is own orgasm. He pumped himself deep inside of you, releasing directly into your heat as he groaned your name. 

He squeezed your throat gently when you both came down before releasing it, allowing your sore body to rest as his head found the spot between your shoulder blades. The room was heavy in the scent of your shared bond as it hummed and burned brightly between the two of you. “I'm never going a day without you again,” Cassian panted before turning your head to kiss you softly. “Happy Birthday, y/n."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlestw01f

[brunette-bitch77]

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ?! (;° ロ°)

Summary: When the relationship is so well, you tend to forget a lot of things... such as your inability to drive A/N: So... this is inspired by my current predicament 😭 I've put off getting my license for a while now but I'm getting it next week!! You're still welcome to read if you can drive. Pairing: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Yami Sukehiro x reader CW: light teasing (reader can't drive obvi), mentions of car accidents, pure fluff, reader is married to Nanami, sexual jokes (Toji)

Kҽɳƚσ Nαɳαɱι

╰┈➤ One of the hottest sights to see was whenever your fiancé, Kento Nanami, put his arm on his seat so he could put the car in reverse and pull out of the parking spot. You didn't know exactly what that did, given the fact that you two rarely had to drive in the middle of Tokyo, but you still appreciated whenever he offered to drive the two of you out on dates.

"Those heels are pretty high, honey, are you sure you won't get too sore?" was something he said whenever you went out on date nights all dressed up for him.

"I like to look cute for you, Kenny," you pouted, putting the final strap of your sandals on.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to wear those ankle killers to look cute for me," he said with a chuckle, the smile breaking his usually calm and stoic expression. "You could wear a pair of flats or sneakers and still look like the most beautiful woman on earth to me."

"Don't get it twisted; I also like to look cute for me," you retorted once more, making him laugh again.

"Have it your way, sweetheart. I have to say: you do look quite cute right now. Now, would you like to take the car, call a cab, or take the metro?"

Right now, the two of you were getting quite serious in your relationship. It was time for you to abandon your 1 bed/1 bath apartments and upgrade to a bigger place for the two of you. It's worth mentioning that you both had different ideas of what the perfect place to live was: you liked living in the heart of the city, and a 2 bedroom apartment in a cosmopolitan area, close to plenty of subway stations and yummy restaurants to try; Nanami liked his peace and quiet, and that usually involved a long commute (much to your dismay). In the end, you settled on a house in a neighborhood that was perfectly close to what was going on and also far enough out that Nanami got some much needed rest and relaxation.

One of the problems of said neighborhood was the faulty subway stations that were frequently in disrepair. Most of the residents in your area drove cars in order to get places which meant that the neighborhood board didn't feel it was necessary to renovate the subway stations. This was bad news for you because you were one of the only people who took it everywhere they went. So, when the one closest to your house was under complete renovation for the week, you were left stranded and had to go wherever Kento went.

What was even more unfortunate was that one day, you had to specifically ask him for a ride to get somewhere. He was currently resting on the couch, having the day off, so you couldn't exactly hitch a ride and get dropped off somewhere close to where you were heading.

"Sure thing," was what he said without a second thought. You breathed a sigh of relief and were glad that the most embarrassing part was over, only for him to ask: "if you don't mind me asking, why did you need to ask me to give you one? Can't you take the car on your own?"

"Um... well," you said, a little nervous by the sudden questions. You then looked up at your boyfriend who now had a questioning look on his face.

"See, I could, but then I'd probably crash it... because I don't know how to drive."

And there it was: the ugly truth baring its fangs at your handsome fiancé. During your three years of dating and your one year of engagement, he'd never figured out why he was always the one driving or why you always took the subway everywhere you went.

"How come?" he asked in a tone that was neither judgmental nor harsh.

"So, you see," you started, trying to make it sound as normal as you possibly could. "I'm... afraid of car accidents. Very afraid of them," you said with a slight frown. "And I'm afraid that I wouldn't be capable enough to handle such a big piece of metal without something bad happening. What if I lost control over the steering wheel or the gas pedal got jammed and I... took another person's life?" You looked at the floor out of embarrassment. "Hah, would you look at that: a 28 year old who can't drive."

Kento looked at you, this time with an apologetic smile on his face. He reached out, cupped your cheek, and brought your gaze back to his. "(Y/N), don't be embarrassed. There are plenty of people who get by and live their day-to-day lives without needing a car. But, you need to understand that knowing how to drive is a very helpful skill in life. What if you were far away from any metropolitan areas and someone you were with got into a bad accident, and you had to drive them to the hospital?"

You looked up at him like a kicked puppy, a shy smile gracing your features. He always knew the best things to say for times like these. "You're right: I should know how to drive. I guess I just never got around to it," you said with a small huff through your nose. "You really are too kind to me, Ken. Anyone else would've turned their nose at me and passed me off as someone incapable."

"Why would I ever turn my nose at you, sweetheart?" He asked, his hand still on your cheek, now rubbing it with his thumb. "You still have plenty of wonderful qualities worth celebrating. And, you're right: you just never got around to it."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't I teach you how to drive? I've been told I'm a great driver by people very close to me," he offered, making you giggle.

"You're simply the best fiancé, Ken. You'd really do that for me?"

"For you? I'd do anything. Now, let's fill out a permit form and get you that license."

"Alright, first thing's first: let's get out of this parking spot," Kento said, his hand steady and guiding yours as he gave you a demonstration. "Turn the steering wheel left, and the car will back up in that same direction, and vice versa for turning right."

"Okay," you said, determined to get out of that spot.

You began to reverse, only for him to stop you: "stop, stop, stop the car." You freaked out and looked at him, abruptly pressing the brake pedal. "Honey, you can't just reverse without looking behind you; there could've been a child!"

Speaking of the devil: there was a child walking behind the car.

"Shit... sorry," you said, biting your lip out of worry. He just sighed and shook his head.

"Make sure to use the backup camera; although on the actual test itself, you won't be able to use it, so it's best that you use your head to turn for now. Here, this is what you do when you reverse." He grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and turned his head in the opposite direction, and you almost got distracted by the veins on his forearms when he said: "eyes on me, sweetheart."

"Sorry, babe." You smiled at him bashfully before mimicking the action, reversing just as he'd directed you.

"That's it, honey, you're already doing so well," he said encouragingly, reaching out to press a kiss to your forehead.

Praise always made your stomach flip, even in non-sexual situations.

"Keep it up, and you'll be better than me in no time."

Sαƚσɾυ Gσʝσ

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was good at everything, and you knew that even before you got into a relationship with the powerful sorcerer. You'd always heard stories from both his friends and strangers about how he could accomplish anything very quickly with only a single demonstration given on how to do it. This man could do everything: play soccer, ballroom dance, speak 30 languages (according to him), and he was even good at chemistry! If you weren't the man's pride and joy--the man's girlfriend--then it would've been really annoying to put up with such nonchalant skill.

He still made sure to tease you from time to time, saying that he could do whatever you could do but with tenfold skill (he really could; he just didn't want you to grow resentful of him (not that you would)). These claims were usually never backed up because at the end of the day, he knew that he was just joking with you.

One of the best things about having Satoru Gojo as your boyfriend was him being your personal chauffeur who could drive you anywhere he wanted in the least amount of time with the most amount of efficiency possible. He was even good at riding motorcycles which you usually weren't too fond of, given how dangerous they were.

But, oh, how his teasing tongue was just so irritating whenever he decided to use it. The man was an amazing boyfriend and an even more amazing best friend, but he could also be really cocky at times and for good reason.

"Satoruuu, I wanna go shopping," you drawled out, your arms landing around his broad shoulders and pulling his attention from the stack of papers on his desk to you. "Mind taking me?" You knew the man couldn't possibly resist because of his love for shopping which was greater than yours (seriously, how was it possible that someone loved shopping more than you?)

Satoru chuckled and gave you his trademark cocky grin. "You're asking me for a ride like I'm your personal chauffeur, eh?"

"Is that not what you are?" you quipped back, making him feign hurt.

"I'm hurt; my girlfriend's been using me this entire time for rides!" he said sarcastically, putting his hand on his forehead for added effect.

"Like you don't love going shopping more than I do," you scoffed, taking your hands off his shoulders and putting them back on your hips. "C'mon; you and I both know you can't resist a good shopping trip."

"Never said I was trying to," he said, standing up from the chair and stretching his long legs out. "I've been needing an excuse to escape these papers, anyway. Always so stupidly menial and boring."

"You're the one who wanted to be a teacher."

"Yeah, so I could raise a couple nice generations of kids; not so I could raise my blood pressure with these papers that need grading!"

"Be glad you only have, like, 10 kids to worry about--some teachers have 30 per class. And even then, it's basically 9 kids to grade, since Yuji's papers are never that hard to grade."

"That's true," he acquiesced with a snicker, shaking his head at the boy's... delayed learning.

"Anyway, I'll grab my purse, and you grab your sunglasses," you said, walking away to get said purse from your closet. Once you did, you returned to find Satoru waiting outside, perched against the car nonchalantly.

"Ready to spend my money?"

"You know it, baby," you giggled, making him shake his head. Once in the car, he did his thing and reversed out of the space, driving to the mall with the skill of an F1 racer.

Along the way, his tongue was just itching to say something to you, though: "Y'know, princess, I find it funny how you're always needing me to drive places. You're like my little passenger princess," he crooned, patting your head, only to be met with your swatting hands. "It's like you can't even drive."

That little quip, while it may have had innocent intentions, made you freeze up for a moment.

That's right: Satoru didn't know about your lack of driving ability.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, looking over at you while his hands effortlessly rotated the steering wheel for a turn.

"More like my license," you muttered, making his teasing smile drop.

"Huh?"

"Are you as clueless as you are tall?" you asked, looking up from your phone at him, face scrunched up like an angry kitten. "I'm saying I can't drive."

That confession almost made Satoru hit the brakes in the middle of a busy road. "You can't drive?!"

"No!" you said, a little angrier and louder than you'd meant it to be. It was clear that he'd hit a sore spot, so he cooled off the accusations and the teasing. "I can't drive... I never learned how to. I was supposed to learn it when I was younger, but I... y'know, just forgot to! It slipped my mind, was all." Satoru let the weight of your words sink in, realizing that this was a big insecurity for you, judging by the defensive tone.

"Baby, I'm sorry for provoking you like that," he said. He only ever used the pet name "baby" for when you were either mad at him or in just a plain bad mood. "I had no idea."

"How could you have? I never told you," you scoffed.

"Well, that part is true... still, I should've known something was up. You always love car rides--you get to blast your music at full volume--but you never actually wanna drive yourself," he chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.

"It's always been an insecurity for me." You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the dashboard temporarily. "My friends--our friends don't give two shits about that kinda stuff unless they don't get gas money, but whenever old-heads find that out they make it seem like you have stage 4 breast cancer. 'Oh, you can't drive? However will you get around places?' Uh, I dunno, the metro?" Your little joke about geriatric seniors not minding their businesses made him laugh.

"You tell 'em."

"I was gonna learn, I even promised myself I would... but then I met you, and I started dating you, and you were just such a good driver that I felt it wasn't necessary to learn..." He was about to say something when you decided to continue: "... but it's wrong for me to rely on you for everything. I'm an adult; I should be able to do stuff on my own, even if I have a boyfriend who makes everything easier for me."

Satoru's face relaxed into a soft smile, and he glanced over at you while still driving. "That's true--that's all very true. You are an adult, even if you're still my princess," he said while ruffling your hair. "Tell you what: in order to repay me all those car rides I've given you, you have to let me teach you how to drive."

You looked over at him, your smile replaced by a soft look of shock with your lips slightly parted. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"What kind of a man would I be if I let my girl struggle to learn with some old hag who barks at their students?" he asked with a toothy, cocky grin. "It's just like you said: I'm the best driver you know, so why not train with the best?"

"Satoru..." you leaned in suddenly, pressing a big kiss to his cheek. "You're the best! Thank you so much!"

"I know, I know," he chuckled, his pale cheeks slightly red from the praise. You then whacked him upside the head, making him let out an "ow!"

"Cocky bastard," you said under your breath.

"Alright, don't forget to use your turn signals, baby," he said, reaching out to turn it on.

"Right," you said with an apologetic smile. He was just like a mother hen when he taught you how to do stuff. Seriously, how could Yuji have been such a bad student? You were currently on your sixth driving lesson with your boyfriend, and you were already a better driver than most people you knew (except for him, of course).

"And keep your eyes on the road- watch out!" You were about to cross an intersection when an elderly lady was crossing the street. She barked some curses at you in Japanese before continuing on her way.

"Sorry!" You said to both him and the old lady.

"It's alright, you're still doing great," he said with a proud smile on his face. "See that sign up there? It says 'yield to pedestrians' which means you have to slow down and let any and all pedestrians cross before continuing. It's not your fault 100%; that lady was quite slow and small, but still, you have to keep your focus on the road at all times. No daydreaming or zoning off, no matter how hot your driving instructor is." He flashed you one of his cocky Satoru smiles before you whacked him upside the head again. "Ow! ... anyway, let's spin the block once more before calling it a day, yeah? I'll cut the lesson short since you've been doing so good."

"Can we get frozen yogurt after?" you asked, making sure your focus was still on the road.

"We can get anything as long as it satisfies my sweet tooth and doesn't break the bank."

As if his bank account wasn't literally limitless.

As you spun around the block once more, making sure not to hit any little old ladies or small children, you muttered an "I love you" under your breath.

"What was that, baby?" he asked, turning his ear to face you, "I don't think I caught what you said."

"I said I love you," you said, rolling your eyes out of how needy he was.

"That's the spirit." He smiled at you before relaxing into the seat, still keeping his focus for the two of you. "Y'know, maybe later, you can repay your gratitude to your super awesome and amazing and sexy boyfriend for being such an amazing teacher."

"In your dreams, snow leopard," you jested sarcastically.

Satoru merely chuckled and changed the song on the radio to something he liked better.

"Yeah, I sure as hell will be dreaming of it."

Tσʝι Fυʂԋιɠυɾσ

╰┈➤ Your man, Toji Fushiguro, radiated dilf energy from every fiber of his being. Even though you and him had yet to marry--let alone have kids, you knew that, one day, he was gonna be an amazing (and super sexy) father to your children. You already had baby names picked out for said future children, even though you'd still like to enjoy your youth before having them; you didn't wanna waste your youth on diapers when you could be getting turnt.

One of the things that made Toji so dilf-y in your eyes was the way he drove. You know that specific way that fathers drive the family van at a moderately-fast but not illegal speed & how they look so good doing it? Like they were built to be Nascar drivers? Yeah, that's how Toji drove, with his sexy girlfriend in the passenger seat to boot. A small part of him loved it when guys driving in the next lane over could see a beautiful chick & gained the slightest bit of hope that they could get your number before the light turned green... only to have their dreams crushed by the sight of the oh-so hot and oh-so intimidating man who was driving said car, his thick forearms on display and his veins popping while he had his hands on the steering wheel. They couldn't see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore, but they could tell that he was all but sneering at them. They'd look like little boys next to him, after all.

He also especially loved it when you two pulled over at the nearest secluded parking lot, horny out of your fucking minds and unable to resist each other's touch, and he especially loved it when you sucked his dick in the backseat and then rode his cock like your life depended on it (in that same backseat, of course).

Yeah, you guess you could say you loved it when Toji drove the two of you places. "Just sit back and let your boyfriend be your chauffeur, doll," was his tagline whenever you two hopped into the car.

You wouldn't deny him the opportunity to drive you around, especially since you couldn't drive.

Those little moments in the car would be put on hold, however, when Toji's arm got severely wounded while fighting a particularly pesky target. Not only that, but it was his good driving arm that he couldn't drive without!

It should've been fine, since he had superhuman healing powers and therefore only had to wear an arm-cast for a day or two. He had the day off, and he'd be damned if some stupid injury got in the way of enjoying his day off with his favorite girl. You'd also just be the one driving around, he presumed.

"Hey, sweetheart," his gruff voice said into your ear, making you jump out of surprise. "Sorry for spookin' ya," he said with a laugh, ruffling your hair with the hand that wasn't broken.

"Don't scare me like that; you know how silent you can be."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just too good of an assassin," he quipped, his laughter piping down. "Why don't the two of us go out and get somethin' to eat, and maybe get a dessert afterwards? You know I love something sweet to eat." You raised your eyebrows when he mentioned dessert, knowing damn well that his idea of "dessert" eating your ass. "Nah, nah, not that kinda dessert; I'm in the mood for a parfait or two. I've recently developed a sweet tooth because of your sweet ass."

"Or two?" you asked mockingly, raising your eyebrow.

"Big boys gotta eat big meals, am I right?" he asked, that classic Toji smirk never leaving his face. "C'mon, I'll even pay for it."

"Sure, sure, where do you wanna eat?"

Toji shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me as long as the restaurant's good."

"Alright, lemme just get my suica card."

"Don't you wanna drive instead? I know damn well you ain't walkin' in those heels, baby," he said, looking down at the 4-inch heels you were wearing. "Plus, I don't wanna ride the subway when I've got this big-ass cast on."

"O-Oh, um," you started stammering a little, not wanting to let him know that you couldn't drive while also not trying to argue with him.

Toji, however, in his infinite perceptiveness, saw you stammering, and that little smirk faltered a little. He looked at you with question, wondering why you were at a loss for words when it came to driving you two to the restaurant. "Somethin' wrong, baby? What's got you stuttering?"

"Um... well, the reason is because I can't drive."

Toji stared at you for a few seconds, letting the information sink in. "Doll, you can't drive?"

"N-No, I can't drive! I... never got my license," you said, your voice gradually diminishing in size. "I just didn't get one when I was younger, okay? Don't judge me for it!" you added defensively, crossing your arms over your pink top.

"Calm down, baby, I'm not judging you for anything," Toji said, raising his one hand to calm you down. "It's alright if you can't drive; if anything, it's cute."

"Cute?" you repeated back.

He chuckled for a few seconds and explained his reasoning. "Yeah: it's cute as hell that you need me to drive you around everywhere. You're like a cute little kitten: all defensive and hissy, but still dependent on me." He stepped closer and ruffled your hair for a few seconds to which you didn't swat his hand away. When he finally removed his hand and put it on his hip, he reached to take his phone out of his pocket. "So, should we take an Uber?"

"Yeah, if you want to," you sighed, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your cheeks together out of worry.

"Hey, hey, don't be so strung up, doll," he said, trying to relieve some of the tension in your body. "Once I get all patched up and take this stupid cast off my arm, you'll be back to being my passenger princess." He flashed you a crooked grin, trying to alleviate your mood.

"I know you will, but what if it's a more serious injury? What if you couldn't use your arm for a month or two--what if you lost your arm?" you asked, furrowing your brow in stress and pouting as well.

Toji sighed, giving you an apologetic smile. "You're right. Plus, driving's a good skill that could come in handy someday. I know we've got great transit in Tokyo, but if we were to live somewhere smaller with less public transit, what'd we do if we couldn't drive?"

"As if I'd live anywhere with less shopping," you scoffed, making him chuckle.

"I'm just saying: we can't just rely on public transit alone."

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down and getting rid of the attitude. "You're right, you're right, I just got a little tense. Driving is a necessary skill which could come in handy one day."

"Damn straight, doll," he agreed with a chuckle. "Right now, let's just take that Uber and get somethin' to eat, 'kay? We'll figure out all that driving shit later."

"Alright, doll, keep your eyes on the road and not on your man's arms," he instructed you, making you snap out of the trance that his arms had unintentionally put you in.

"Maybe don't have arms worth drooling over," you sassed, making him chuckle.

"Hey, I'm just tryin' to give my girl somethin' sturdy to hold onto when she wants it," he retorted, putting his hands up in defense, still keeping that smirk on his face. "Anyway, just look straight ahead, and nothing should get in the- shit, watch out!"

Out of nowhere, a red car sped through the street, rounding the corner very sharply and almost hitting your car as it did so. You immediately hit the brakes, startled beyond all belief with the hair on your arms standing up. "Sorry, sorry," you mumbled. "I didn't see that car."

"I know you didn't. Don't worry 's not your fault; it's their fault, if anything. Fuckin' assholes don't know how to control their fuckin' cars," he spat, rubbing your shoulder as the red car sped off. "But, that's why it's important to keep your eyes on the road: you can keep watch and make sure that some shitty ass driver doesn't hit you and get you into an accident."

You nodded, keeping that fact in mind. "Alright: keep my eyes on the road." You took a deep breath, making sure that there weren't any out-of-control drivers headed your way.

"So cute when you focus," he muttered under his breath. He watched as you changed lanes, rounded corners smoothly, and stopped perfectly at the red lights. "Good job, good job!" he praised enthusiastically, clapping just to add effect. "You're already doing such an amazing job!"

You smiled and looked away bashfully, still keeping your focus on the road. "Thank you, thank you," you giggled, accepting any and all praise.

"No; thank you for being a great student and not giving me a fucking heart attack," he chuckled, relaxing into his seat. "Alright, now: drive a few more blocks, and then we can go home and watch whatever chick flick you wanna watch. Maybe afterwards, I can feed you some dessert?"

"Yeah, that sounds-" you stopped talking when you realized what you meant by dessert. "Toji, you pervert!"

He laughed loudly at your reaction and shook his head.

"As if you could resist my desserts; your sweet tooth's just too damn strong for your own good."

Yαɱι Sυƙҽԋιɾσ (modern AU)

╰┈➤ If there was one thing that got Yami Sukehiro's dick hard, it was a strong woman--a woman who didn't take shit from anybody; didn't need to rely on others or be babied; and who most certainly wasn't incapable of handling themselves. Everyone should be able to handle themselves when they're adults because it was what made one an adult!

One of the things that he believed made an adult an adult was getting around on their own, whether it be by car, metro, or even by helicopter (if you had the budget). Your boyfriend and you had different modes of transportation: you chose to take the metro, and Yami liked to drive his car, even if he had terrible road rage and hated traffic (Tokyo's traffic could be terrible on certain days).

"Come on! Hurry your asses up already!!" Yami barked from the driver's seat, honking the horn as loudly as he could. "Shut the hell up, you bastard!!" he barked again when the person behind him honked the horn. Naturally, his first reaction was to honk back ten times harder. "Wish I could teleport or somethin'..."

Regardless of your preferred mode of transportation, he just wanted you to get where you were going efficiently.

One day, after he'd refused forgotten to pay one too many parking tickets, he sadly had his license revoked. He believed that losing your license over tickets was a myth and that you could only lose it over DUIs, but when the police took that little piece of paper away from him, he now knew that it wasn't a myth.

"Hey, honey," his deep and raspy voice said into your ear one morning, "do you think you could give me a ride to work today?" Just to convince you further, he wrapped his big, muscular arms around you and pulled you close to him.

"What do you need a ride for?"

"Um, well... got my license revoked," he mumbled into your ear.

"Hm?"

"I said I got my license revoked," he said louder this time, his arms instinctively tightening around you. He buried his face into your shoulder and avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the judgment on it.

"Suke, why did you get your license revoked?" you asked him, brows furrowing together out of confusion. You turned around in his embrace and grabbed his cheeks, making him look at you.

"I forgot to pay a parking ticket," he mumbled, sighing deeply. His charcoal eyes met yours, and he looked like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, you know I could've helped you with that."

"No," he refuted firmly, shaking his head in response to your offer. "I don't want my girl doing anything I can do with my own two hands; I wouldn't be a man if I let that happen."

You gave him an remorseful smile and now it was your turn to sigh. "You and your chivalry..."

He let out the tiniest whine and hid his face in your hair. "Shut up," he mumbled, "can you just gimme a ride? Please? I'll give you gas money if you need it."

"I can get you a suica if you need one," you offered, shoulders shrugging in his arms.

"Ugh, not the metro--I don't wanna take the metro. Too many things can happen and it'll fuck my timing up if I do." By timing he meant the amount of time he can cuddle with you on the couch before going off to work. "And there's too many people--I just don't like taking it. Can't you take the car instead? Just this once? I know you hate traffic and all, but it'll just be until I get my license back."

All of a sudden, you went quiet, looking off to the side (quite embarrassedly so).

"What're the tight lips for, baby?" he asked, cocking his head to the side out of his obliviousness. "Hey, you know I don't like it when you go silent on me."

"Suke, I can't... I can't drive."

"What do you mean you can't drive? Didn't you get your license when you turned 18?"

"No, I didn't!" you exclaimed, making his brow furrow further. Once he realized that you were serious and not joking around with him, his confused expression turned into a remorseful frown.

"Well, you're an adult! You have to know how to drive!"

"Shut up already!!" you snapped back in response, embarrassed from that same fact that he brought up. He sighed and released you, letting you walk away and cool down for a sec.

"Honey..." he looked down at the floor and then up at you again, his frown still there. "I'm sorry for making you so upset, I just- I've just never met an adult who doesn't know how to drive, so I didn't know how to react."

"That's 'cus you're a blue collar worker who needs to know how to operate a car," you sassed, making him "tch."

"Well, I guess you're right," he conceded with a chuckle. His eyes followed you and, once he saw that you were cooled down, he came closer to you. "C'mere, hon," he coaxed with his arms outstretched, beckoning you to come closer and give him a hug. You didn't say anything and did as he wanted, letting him encircle his arms around you. "I'm sorry for getting you riled up, I really am. I've been trying to control my temper lately, and I slipped up."

"Hell yeah, you did," you mumbled into his thick chest, his pecs making your words come out muffled. "Control that shit if you want cuddles."

He chuckled and shook his head. "For your cuddles, I'll do anything."

"Could you teach me how to drive?" You asked softly, looking up at Yami and offering him the best puppy eyes you could possibly muster up. "I don't wanna be embarrassed the next time someone asks me for a ride."

"Baby, you already gave me enough reason with those puppy eyes," he reassured you, running his calloused fingers through your hair and smiling at you. "Alright, since you asked so nicely, I'll teach you how to drive a car. But fair warning: my road rage isn't to be messed with."

"I know, I know--I've seen said road rage firsthand many times."

He just laughed and rested his chin atop your head again. "So, how many minutes do we have for cuddles before I have to take the metro?"

"Enough to satisfy your little heart."

"Perfect," he sighed, already leading you to the couch for said cuddles.

Later, he'd face-time you for a half hour while angrily trying to figure out how the stupid train lines work, making several people look at him out of fear. "What're you looking at, you little punk?! I'll kick your ass!" he shouted at a rather short man who'd accidentally looked at him the wrong way.

"Yami Sukehiro, don't beat up the other riders!" you scolded him over the phone.

"Hey, eyes on the road at all times!" he barked a little too loudly, making you flinch while keeping your hands steadily on the steering wheel. "And don't you dare take your hands off the steering wheel!" he also said rather loudly.

"I know, I know! Stop shouting and just let me drive!" you shouted back, making his blood vessel pop in his forehead.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to calm down. "Sorry, sorry, honey; I'm just a little stressed whenever I'm on the road."

"A little?" you asked, almost in disbelief that he could be stressed out "just a little" bit.

"Well, don't give me that look! Driving's dangerous and you can get hurt if you're not focused."

"And who said I wasn't focused?"

"You were staring at my biceps earlier when we were supposed to change lanes." You didn't say anything back, instead looking at the road again with a deep blush on your face. You zeroed in on the road this time, bringing a tiny smile to his face. "I hope you know it doesn't mean anything if I get mad at you; unless we get into an accident, of course. I just care a lot about you, and I don't want some shitty driver getting my honey into a car accident."

"Right, because who would give your big ass all the cuddles you want later?" you asked with a snicker.

"Hey! The correct term is beefy," he retorted, flexing his rather thick arm just to prove a point. You shook your head and managed to keep your eyes on the road, making his smile widen. "Speaking of cuddles, would it be too much to ask if we could cuddle later tonight? Been missing your touch..."

"We cuddled right before this, Suke."

"It's not enough. Did y'know one of my three favorite things is cuddling? This big man right here needs some love and affection from time to time."

"I thought your three favorite things were gambling, beer and sleeping?" You asked, making him pout in a way too cute way. He crossed his arms over his chest and instead turned his eyes back to the road along with you.

"FYI: I quit gambling for you..."

"So, what's this new third favorite thing?" Your question made him chuckle, and he looked at you again.

"You, of course. Now, drive us home so that I can get those cuddles in."

YAMI BRAINROT IS TOO REAL I NEED TO MARRY HIM move over Charlotte

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/21/2024

[marvelwitchergilmore]

First Name Basis

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> You and Hotch have never been on First Name Basis, but as the years go on, thing begin to change.

Disclaimer: Mentions and descriptions of blood, bombs, life being in danger, slight spoilers for S4-Ep3 (Minimal Loss - Reader takes Emily's place) (But that isn't the whole fic). BAU found-family fluff, romantic fluff, soft fluff, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You were on a first name basis with everyone. Everyone save from Hotch. 

Of course, he would introduce you with your first name when it came to meeting police departments or official personnel but to anyone else, specifically yourself, he always used your last name. 

And you did the same with him. Like the rest of them. 

It was always “Sir,” or “Hotch,”. 

Never Aaron. 

However, this all changed after a case in Colorado. 

Yourself and Reid had gone undercover as Child Protection Agents. And it wasn’t long until things went wrong. An unknown police raid meant everyone was taken underground. And a media segment revealed that someone was FBI. 

Between yourself and Spencer, you took the rapt. You weren’t willing to watch him get shot and die. 

On the other side of the planted bug, the team could hear everything. 

And it was killing Hotch.

And Rossi could see it. 

They all could. 

His own mind was fighting against listening because he had to, and not because you were being beaten. 

A small grunt left you as you were thrown into something, and then a crash came. A mirror most likely. More grunts and one scream before…nothing. 

It was the first time in a long time his emotions had started pushing to the surface. 

Every day, he had to become an emotionless yet empathetic profiler. But at that moment…he didn’t know what he was. He was a profiler, a friend, a…he didn’t know what he was. 

“Y/n…”

His voice was barely audible. A hair above a whisper. 

But Rossi saw it. 

Even if Aaron didn’t know it yet, Rossi knew. 

Then you spoke. 

“I can take it.”

There were more sounds of fighting before another. 

“I can take it.”

“She’s antagonising him!” Derek shouted. 

“No, she’s not.”

“She’s talking to us.” Hotch told them both. “She’s telling us not to come in.”

And he didn’t. 

It was killing him not to do so, but he didn’t. 

But the moment he got a chance, writing the time of “3 am” on the takeaway box, he wouldn’t be turning back. 

When he finally saw you, a wave of relief washed over him. And the same happened for you, too. 

Once you both caught clear sight of one another, you ran towards him. 

He could see the dried blood on your face, partly washed away. And your eye was bruised. And your arms were cut up, most likely from the mirror that had broken. 

But you were alive. 

Finally reaching him, you hugged him. And he hugged you. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I will be. Where’s Morgan and Reid?”

“They’re inside-”

The place blew up. 

Hotch covered you a little, both of you feeling the aftershock of the bomb. The hand you kept on his shoulder pulled him down a little with you. But after you made sure the other was alive, you both turned back to the building. And you started walking closer to it. 

“Morgan! Reid!”

They stood up. 

“Oh, thank god.”

Making your way up the stairs, you met a coughing Morgan and Reid before Reid finally stood tall and you hugged him. 

After that case, everything seemingly went back to normal. 

Until another case came, only a few months later. 

A bomb had been planted in a building. And, when tracking the Unsub into another one, yourself and Hotch had found yourselves stuck. 

The Unsub held a trigger, and by the looks of it, he was wearing one. 

But you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

Something wasn’t right. 

“So, what happens next? You blow yourself up? What happened to “getting all the glory”? That’s what you said, isn’t it? In your message. It was all about the glory.”

Yourself and Hotch took another step forward, but then he unzipped his jacket. 

“Another step and I take my finger off the trigger.” He warned. 

Neither of you moved, but your gaze did switch. 

The bomb the Unsub was wearing wasn’t one you recognised. It wasn’t his type. 

By the time SWAT and Bomb Disposal met you at the top of the building, it wasn’t long before he just…gave up. 

“He took hostages from the last site.”

“But we found them all.” 

Hotch nodded in agreement. “I still want to do a sweep just in case.”

“I’ll come with you.”

By the time you both reached the fourth floor, you still couldn’t shake the feeling. 

And just as Hotch reached a small storage unit, it clicked. 

“It was a fake.”

“What?”

“The bomb, around his chest. It’s a fake.”

“Why fake a bomb and then give yourself up?”

Then it clicked with the both of you. 

“How many agents are in this building?”

“Enough to keep this case in the news for the next fifty years.”

“We need to clear the building now.”

By the time you both reached the floor, calling for every agent to clear the building, someone came and found Hotch. 

“We found his briefcase. You’re gonna want to see this.”

Walking over, both yourself and Aaron peered inside. There were plans, memos, and enough cash to give him a whole new life in any country he could possibly want. 

“Get all of this processed as soon as you can.”

And Hotch walked away. 

But you stayed. 

However, the longer you stayed, the bigger that gnawing feeling in your stomach grew again. 

And once you finally lifted a pile of cash, you saw it. 

A watch with a timer. 

“Morgan! Clear the area, now!”

People started running but when you did so, Hotch was still in his place. 

“Aaron!”

Grabbing his arm on your way past, you both started running. And whether it was luck, or fate or…whatever it was. Yourself and Aaron managed to clear the site fast enough so as to not die from the explosion. 

You both were propelled forward, and landed, rolling onto the ground. And for a few moments, were stunned from the blast. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, managing to catch your breath. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I think so.”

Once you were able to open your eyes, you sat back on your heels and took a look at Hotch. He was sitting in a similar position to you, except he was bleeding. 

You pushed yourself closer to him, “Jesus, Hotch. You’re bleeding.”

Once you touched it, he seemed to feel it and tried to move his head away from your hand, but you pulled him back. 

“Don’t move.”

Through your wire, you called for a medic. 

“Y/l/n, I’m fine.”

“Hotch, you’re bleeding. You’re not fine.”

“So are you.”

You shook your head and turned away for a moment, pulling out your pocket knife and cutting the torn piece of your t-shirt. 

“Wait.”

Hotch took the cloth from your hands before tearing it into two and handing you a piece back, but keeping one for himself. 

Just as you pressed the cloth to his head, he did the same for your cut. There wasn’t much blood coming from your head, so once he knew that had slowed at least, he dabbed at the wound on your arm before tying the piece tight around your arm. 

Once the medics finally reached you both, you told them what injuries Hotch had and might have. 

“Check her over, too. She’s got a cut on her head. She could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

The medic had helped you up from the floor and when they did so, you felt a little dizzy. 

Hotch didn’t even have to say anything. 

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, the next time either of you talked on a first name basis was when on a short vacation. 

Considering the fact that no-one of the team was due to go on holiday or drive out of state for at least three more days, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to plan a small getaway for the entire team that meant even if they got called back (as you all usually would), you would have, at least, a break away. 

So, on a random Friday morning, you all drove to the beach. 

And it was fun, to say the least. 

By the time you arrived, you parked next to Will’s car. Both himself and JJ were getting Henry ready along with the beach bags and diaper bags. From what you could tell, everyone else was already on the beach. 

“Need some help?”

JJ nodded. “That would be great.”

“Hi, Henry. Is this his first trip to the beach?”

JJ smiled and nodded. “It is.”

“We did try and take him a few weeks ago but then he got a fever.” Will told you. 

“Well, it’ll all be worth it.”

Will handed you a couple of the bags whilst he carried the rest and JJ carried Henry, along with her beach bag, onto the beach. 

The minute you spotted Morgan flirting with a group of women a few feet from the water, you spotted Jack playing in the sand with Emily and Penelope. Spencer was trying to avoid the sun and Hotch was finishing setting up the area with a couple of windbreakers and chairs, with Rossi. 

And once you, JJ and Will arrived; the two dads continued setting up with the addition of sun parasols. 

It wasn’t long before Jack had come running up to get his dad and yourself to join him. JJ handed you Henry for a moment whilst she dug through the diaper bag to find the fruit pouches she had brought with her. 

From behind you, Aaron set up another parasol giving both yourself and Henry shade.

“I’ve put Henry’s fruit pouches in the cooler. Ready to go?”

Lifting her son from your arms, JJ carried Henry down to the water whilst Will grabbed his camera. And yourself and Aaron joined Jack, Emily and Penelope. 

By the end of the day, you had all swam in the water, built sandcastles, sunbathed, read and even been chased by Morgan when he realised yourself. Reid and Hotch had been hustling him in a game of football. 

And at some point after all of that, you must have fallen asleep because you woke up to someone lightly shaking your shoulder. 

“Y/n, hey, y/n…”

As you slowly came around, you realised it was Hotch. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” 

It was odd. 

His voice was soft. It was rare, if slightly unbelievable, that Hotch showed this side of him. The one he had for Jack. The one he had for those he held close to his heart. 

“The others went for some food, they should be back soon. Garcia said she knew your order. Pizza with fries and a side of pickles.”

“That’s my girl.” You said with a sleepy smile. 

“Pickles? With Pizza? Really?”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Then he laughed. “Okay, I won’t.”

You smiled at his laughter. And then you thought. In all the years you knew him, you couldn’t think of a time where you had heard him laugh. Sure, you’d seen him smile a little over the years. But before The Beach…you had never heard him laugh. 

And it was like music to your ears. 

Unknown, at first, but then very quickly became your favourite song. 

By the time the others got back, Jack was excited you were awake and ran over to you, jumping towards you and you fell back with him in your arms. 

Aaron laughed again, “Jack, let Y/n breathe.”

“Penelope got you pickles.”

“Extra pickles.” She said as she handed you the pizza box and takeaway tub with fries and pickles. 

“Have I ever told you you’re a saint?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well you are a Saint, Penelope Garcia.”

“She has to be, for buying you pickles with pizza.” Morgan added. 

The rest of the evening passed with stories, smiles and even more laughter. 

It was also after that day you noticed when Hotch called you by your name. It hadn’t clicked with you right away, when he woke you up. But when you fell asleep in the round table room after more than 30 hours of work, you noticed it more. 

Usually, whenever you fell asleep when case hours ran over, you would be jolted awake by someone (typically Hotch) calling your last name. 

But since The Beach, you were woken up with a soft touch to your arm, shaking you lightly, before he said your first name. 

“Go home, get some rest.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

You grumbled, sitting up. “By the time I get home, I’ll be on my way back.”

Hotch sighed. “Fine. But you can use the sofa in my office. It’s better than your desk.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

However, a few months later, something else changed. 

A case had been brought into the roundtable room, and everyone was there. Except for you. 

“Not like Y/l/n to be late.” Rossi said, pulling out his chair. 

“Try her again.” Hotch told Garcia. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Maybe she’s just catching up on sleep.” JJ offered. 

“Why would she be catching up on sleep? We all landed back here two nights ago.”

“Is she dating?” Morgan asked. 

Hotch looked up. 

“No, but her neighbours are.” JJ told them. 

“Ooh, that’s gotta be tough.” Prentiss said. “Back in college, I had a roommate the same. Many sleepless nights. That was when I bought my first pair of noise cancelling headphones.”

Garcia called you three more times. 

“We’ll continue with the case,” Hotch told everyone. “We can catch her up when she wakes up.”

Except two hours later, you still hadn’t picked up. 

And then Hotch got a phone call.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m going to find Y/n,” Hotch told Rossi as he passed him. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“A good idea.”

“I’ll come with you.”

After thirty minutes, and eventually passing the turn for your apartment complex, Rossi spoke up. 

“Her apartment-”

“I know, but she won’t be there.”

“Then where is she?”

“She has a second home.”

Rossi didn’t say anything but he couldn’t help but notice that Aaron knew the way, without having to put anything into the GPS. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Hotch sighed a little. Part of him didn’t want to, because he didn’t know if you would want anyone to know. But he’d gone this long without telling Rossi. 

“There was a crash this morning. Don’t worry, she wasn’t hurt. But one of her friends was. They’re okay, too. They’re being kept in the hospital for a few days but were more worried about Y/n’s reaction.” 

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t.”

“Well, that’s not good.”

Pulling up outside of your home, Aaron stepped out and rushed towards the door, finding the spare key and letting himself in. The doorbell camera would have let you know they were there. 

And then he called your name.

Rossi took in the structure and the decoration of your home. He didn’t know you owned a property outside of your apartment, but by the looks of it, you spent more time outside of work here than you did at your apartment. 

There were photos of yourself with your friends, as well as the team. It was tidy, and the place smelt of blueberries and cinnamon. 

Turning around the bottom of the stairs, Aaron took them two at a time before reaching the top and when he did, Rossi could see him standing on the landing, as well as stall when you called back. 

“Aaron?”

Coming from out of your room, you walked down the hall and Rossi watched as Aaron’s demeanour changed. In the car, he had been tense. In fact, he had been tense since you hadn’t walked into the office. 

But standing at the top of the stairs, hearing your voice as well as seeing you, he relaxed. 

And his voice became softer. 

“Hey,”

You walked towards him and he hugged you instantly. 

“How did you find me?”

“The hospital called. The nurse said Abby was worried about you. Are you okay?”

Aaron moved back a little to examine your face. You had been crying. Your eyes were a little puffy and your cheeks were tear-stained. 

With his thumb, he wiped away the streaks and you melted into his touch for a second. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you?” 

You nodded, “I just…it scared me, you know?”

Aaron nodded. “What do you need?”

“A hug?”

A light smile graced his lips for a moment. “I can do that.”

And he embraced you, tightly. Securely. 

Rossi smiled for a moment before quietly walking away to snoop through your house. And by the time you both walked downstairs, you hand in Aaron’s, Rossi was in the kitchen. 

“Next time Penelope tries to arrange a dinner party, we’re holding it here.”

“So long as you cook.”

“But I don’t see any-”

You and Aaron gave each other a knowing look before you moved and opened up two cabinet doors. It contained three different spice racks, a selection of dry herbs and all standard ingredients to make any one of Rossi’s signature sauces. 

He’d given you enough recipes over the years (not that you didn’t have to work to get them – there had been so many coffee runs) that you made sure you always had the main ingredients needed, and you could always pick up fresh ones on your way home. 

“You’re not the best snooper.”

“I’m a profiler. Not a detective.”

“You’re still an FBI Agent.” Aaron added, backing you up. 

“So, sue me.”

After that case, nothing else changed. 

Both yourself and Aaron remained on a first name basis. Especially considering that two years later, you and Aaron started to share the same last name. 

[prouvaireafterdark]

Hi! As someone just coming into reading the books but who's been with the show since day 1, I'm curious about why people take Lestat's narrative in TVL with 100% sincerity when the premise of the show seems to be interrogating the dissonance that everybody's versions create. Obviously there's some big things that are definitely going to be true, but I'd personally be disappointed if we got a straight adaptation of unfiltered Lestat perspective on events, haha!

I think you're conflating sincerity with some idea of omniscient, objective accuracy, which, as you note, is a useless thing to search for in a show where memory is continually shown to be an unreliable monster.

Lestat's version of events in TVL is sincere, though. He's speaking from the heart and he's trying to give the story of his life, mostly by sharing his truth about what his life before meeting Louis was like, and in part by filling in the gaps Louis leaves us with about what happened at Rue Royale. His recollection may turn out to be as faulty and biased as Louis' or Armand's has been shown to be in the show, but that doesn't make it any less sincere.

And I'm not implying that Louis is lying or anything. I'm talking about him not mentioning or glossing over the happy memories that meant a lot to Lestat and made up, for him, a big part of what it was to share a home with Louis and Claudia for so long. Giving Lestat the space to talk about his love for Louis and Claudia doesn't erase the abuse he inflicted on them in those moments of instability and rage. I don't get why people are so resistant to seeing that. It's not like it makes everything better. If anything, it makes it worse that he loved them so much.

What's important to note, too, is that at no point does Lestat in his retelling excuse himself for anything he did to Louis and Claudia and I doubt very much we would see him do that in future seasons of the show. Lestat even says it himself that he deserved what Claudia did to him. The way things worked out between the three of them is his greatest, deepest regret and it will haunt him for the rest of his immortal life.

Also, not for nothing, what we've gotten this season and last season are the unfiltered perspectives of Louis, Claudia, and Armand. That's not to say they're lying or intentionally obfuscating (okay, well, Armand totally is), but that is what we got---a narrative that was really challenged only by Daniel and not by anyone who was actually there who remembers it differently. I don't see why we shouldn't also get Lestat's unfiltered version, especially considered he is the main protagonist of the Vampire Chronicles series going forward.

For me and many others, it's not about excusing anything. It's all about contextualizing his decisions. Like, Lestat didn't just wake up one day and decide it would be fun to destroy his family. I want him to tell me in his own words (which, as a reminder, he has yet to do at any point in this series so far) what drove him to do the horrible things he did and how he really feels about it. When we do hopefully get that, I expect the fandom to interrogate his accounts as vigorously as they did Louis' and Armand's and Claudia's.

And to answer your question regarding the books specifically, we have Anne herself to blame for that. She wrote IWTV when she was battling some of the most intense grief and despair a person can feel. She had just lost her child. Writing the book was an outlet for that and you can feel it as you read Louis' perspective. When she decided to continue the series, though, she changed her mind about a lot of things---mainly who Lestat was as a character and how she had come to hate the "weakness" in Louis (which was really because she came to hate the "weakness" she saw in herself as she came out on the other side of her grief and identified with him less and Lestat more). There is a very real dissonance between who Lestat is in IWTV and who he is in TVL and beyond. The way she accounted for that in her own writing was that Louis was misconstruing certain events by leaving things out or straight up making things up like their reunion in NOLA at the end of IWTV, which Lestat claims never happened. The reason people take Lestat's words at face value sometimes isn't usually because they hate Louis or think he lied about Lestat's abuse. It's because Anne, as the writer of the story, wanted the reader to doubt Louis' version in favor of Lestat's because she had changed her mind about the direction of the story and the characters she created.

It's also worth noting that, in the actual text of the show, that version of events taken from the book, the content of the original interview, is described by Louis himself as an admitted performance. I think it's a perfectly legitimate reading to consider IWTV (the book) in the context of Louis trying to get Lestat's attention with something he knew would upset him, like Armand suggests was Louis' fantasy, because he wanted or needed to see him again.

This got long and rambley so I'll just leave you with the wise, wise words of Samothy Reid when asked to give one truth and one lie in the show: Everybody lies. Everybody lies.

I don't think that will change if we finally get Lestat's POV so imo people should just relax and enjoy the ride.

[saturnniidae]

Oddly specific Hiccup childhood headcanons

Didn't start speaking until he was 5, even then he mostly just said the word 'why'. He also had a lisp.

People were struggling to understand him so he decided to communicate through other means

He has dyspraxia and spent hours everyday trying to perfect his handwriting so it was actually legible enough for people to understand him (though reading is not a strongsuit for most vikings and they often just ignored the pieces of paper shoved at them). He also tried his best to better coordinate his movements and be less clumsy. He didn't have as much luck with that one.

At some point he kind of gave up and embraced being brushed off by adults, he got tired of trying to cater to them and it wasn't worth it if they just ignored him anyway (the only time they payed attention was when they were judging him for something tbh).

He started wandering off into the woods for hours at a time to draw or play with animals, or most importantly, going hunting for trolls. He'd often lose track of time but always came back before sunset, and always scared the shit out of Stoick (he thought little Hiccup got carried off by a dragon, even though they're not often in berk's forests, or mauled by a bear).

He was accused multiple times (for various different reasons) of being a changeling. Though the only serious accusations were from Mildew, other times it was more an in-joke villagers made behind Stoick's back (if he heard them he'd shut it down immediately).

Hiccup didn't mind. The 'bad and dangerous' parts from stories never really sunk in, he was in awe more than anything. Everything 'magic' fascinated him to no end and he'd always run to Gobber for more stories (not at all helping him beat the changeling allegations) who was the only one who'd humor him.

He loved the forest animals and would often bring wounded ones home to try and help them.

He didn't have much interest in playing with other kids, and apart from the rare times he'd be invited to join, they had no interest in him (this was before they were influenced by adults, before they realized different meant bad). He's just naturally introverted, as well as most knowing better than to get attached to a hiccup. Runts rarely make it to adulthood.

He brought home a stray cat once. Stoick had no idea where it came from and was going to make it leave but couldn't bring himself to when he saw it curled up and purring in Hiccup's lap. He named it Fiddlesticks

A few years later Fiddlesticks died during a dragon raid, Hiccup had run out to try and help and while he was gone their roof collapsed. Hiccup was devastated. Stoick was just glad that for once, Hiccup wasn't where he was supposed to be.

He still wandered in the forest, making little animal friends and hunting for trolls (with less enthusiasm than before) but he tried not to get as attached.

Once he climbed a tree to try and sketch a birds nest but fell and broke his arm. He was under constant supervision until it healed, and it would've been longer if not for him getting in the way of Stoick's duties

He started working in the smithy with Gobber after Stoick had enough of him wandering about unsupervised. Perfecting the steady hand needed to work in the forge felt like learning to write all over again and it was incredibly frustrating for him, he almost gave up more than once but Gobber was encouraging enough.

When they were little, he and Snotlout used to be close. Snotlout never minded Hiccup not talking as it never really affected the games they'd play and he ignored the notion he shouldn't get attached. Hiccup was famliy, so naturally, Snotlout would protect him.

Eventually Snotlout realized (was pressured by snide comments and looks from adults) Hiccup was 'weird' and being his friend, despite the fact they are literally cousins, was making him weird by proxy. He stopped playing with Hiccup, but never told him why which caused some animosity that then turned into outright bullying a few years later.

[disabledunitypunk]

So, this was on a post about disability that was very meaningful to us, and we wanted to talk about it only because it made something click for us in a way that even all the he fully exclusionary and neuroableist disclaimers of "DO NOT DERAIL" did not.

We are specifically making our own post about it because we do not have an issue with OP, nor with their boundary. If they follow us, this is us saying this is not meant to be an attack on you at all, and only that your words helped us realize something that means we cannot interact with your post without violating that boundary. If you know who this is, please respect that boundary, and if you want to talk about it, our post is a better place to do so.

screenshot of a paragraph which reads: (this post is about physical disability, you can talk about neurodivergence in the tags but please no text reblogs, I know that's a weird boundary, pls respect it)

We cannot meaningfully separate our neurodivergence from our physical disabilities. Even in cases where the physical disability itself isn't directly a form of neurodivergence or vice versa, they interact with each other to such an extent that they still effectively are one big amalgamate condition.

We have a multisystemic condition - a mast cell disorder. Mast cells exist in every system of the body - endocrine, neurological, excretory, gastrointestinal, skeletal, you name it. Dysfunctional mast cells cause pansystemic dysfunction.

Then there's POTS. A disorder of the central nervous system. The symptom we notice most while standing and walking is a severe and complete disability of cognition. We notice that we can't think before we notice the tachycardia itself.

ME/CFS, as another condition considered primarily physical, for us has cognitive effects as or more devastating than the physical ones. And reversing things, playing a few hours of puzzle games can cause a flareup as bad as any several hour errand run, or longer low activity periods at friends' houses.

Then there's autism - which impacts our GI health severely to the point of worsening conditions like IBD, MCAS, and even stuff tied into those like chronic rhinitis and sleep apnea, which in turn affects our chronic fatigue. It also directly affects chronic fatigue whenever we attempt to either mask, or even just try to interpret neurotypical social cues.

Anxiety - our primary symptoms are tachycardia, diarrhea, temperature dysregulation - if not for the emotional component, we'd be convinced that our POTS had been misdiagnosed as anxiety. As it is, we suspect the severity of our anxiety is much lower, now that have a better sense of when the emotional component is present.

ADHD, schizophrenia, and trauma - these can't even be separated from each other, let alone from the "physical" disabilities. The first symptom of a physical flareup is executive dysfunction, every time, and it's the last one to level out at the end of a flareup. When we've removed dietary triggers of our physical conditions, we've gone from "functionality varying from 'can stare at the ceiling and scroll social media if we're lucky' to 'once a month day of being able to do one singular task'," to "functionality levels varying from 'can do at least one to three tasks most days' to 'once a month can reach 50 percent of abled levels'."

These ones are also the ones creating the negative feedback loop of "can't seek and schedule treatment -> physical conditions worsen -> executive dysfunction and emotional regulation/triggers worsen -> repeat", on a slightly less direct level.

Our experiences are intersectional. We do not have "physical" disabilities and "neurodivergence" in discrete, separate categories. We have disabilities in the physical organs of our physical bodyminds which affect our cognition and cognitive/emotional ability, regardless of origin.

The way modern medicine compartmentalizes these things and treats them as discrete is increasingly being shown in every discipline to not only be a completely arbitrary boundary, but a harmful one for anyone with any kind of chronic illness. There are no integrative approaches in most modern western medicine, which only causes people with chronic illness to suffer.

This is true whether the disabilities are primarily influenced by social or physical factors, even. We've talked about the failures of the purely physical and social models of disability before, and why a mixed model is the only one that accurately accounts for the entire spectrum of disabled experiences. "Holistic" has become somewhat of a pseudoscientific buzzword, but disabilities cannot neatly be chopped up and removed from their context, in the body or in society.

I use the word intersectional to describe my disabilities within my bodymind on purpose. To me, addressing one without the other is like addressing transphobia but not intersexism, or either without racism. Neither the material reality of the disabilities itself, nor the oppression surrounding them, can be neatly teased apart like that.

I use the examples of transphobia, intersexism, and racism purposely too. I don't have every disability, nor do I face every form of ableism. Physical disability, neurodisability, trans, and intersex - those are things I am and experience oppression around. Being a person of color and experiencing racism, and other forms of disability (which will typically be categorized as "physical" or "neurodivergent" but which people of these disabilities have spoken out about being erased from the discussions and the common usage of those terms*), I have not.

*While we recognize that the spectrums of both physical and neurodivergent disabilities is wide, our point here is that they are not often used as such, and experiences that exist in the overlap between the two are often ignored, erased, or outright excluded. We have heard people who are hard of hearing/deaf/Deaf, visually impaired/blind, people who are intellectually disabled, people who are developmentally disabled, people who have skin and facial differences, and more, discuss this, as well as experienced it ourselves.

So back to our original point: there is no way for us to talk about our neurophysical disabilities without talking about our neurophysical disabilities. They are one and the same. At most, we could separate out what is considered "too neurodivergent" from what is considered "physical enough" to pander to other people's reductive understanding of our experiences.

(Note: we're not accusing the person in the screenshot of this, but rather, speaking to a wider issue in disabled communities. We've seen OP around the site before and quite frankly, they are a compassionate and inclusionary person who could have set this boundary for any number of reasons and who we have active reason to TRUST on this kind of thing - and the same goes for our lovely friends who reblogged it.(

This is... really frustrating for us. There's very few disabled spaces where we, as profoundly disabled people with zero access to abled hegemony, can actually safely and openly talk about our experiences because of it.

We are gatekept from many posts other than the one we've mentioned, as often by well-meaning people who aren't neuroableist as those who saw "cripplepunk is about not being nice about ableism" and took it as a free pass to be laterally ableist to other crips and mad people and neurodisabled people and neurocrips and those with mad bodies and everyone who doesn't fit neatly into the categories designed by abled people to divide us up for their convenience.

The most frustrating thing about it all is... the very real ableism being called out in disabled spaces often exists, not along lines of "type" of disability, but along more complex and nuanced lines that often offer at most conditional privilege and more often an exchange of self-harm to avoid external harm. People whose disabilities can be and are accommodated easily, with compassion, inexpensively, and who face fewer barriers due to identity like race or circumstances like class. People who can assimilate into abled society - but almost never without a significant cost to their own health and quality of life.

These things are significantly more of a factor than what "kind" of disability you have, especially since I can count on one hand the number of people I've met who are truly "physically abled" and neurodivergent, or "neurotypical" and physically disabled. Just the class oppression we face alone typically means most of us as a community struggle with mental illness over our physical disabilities, and end up physically disabled from complex factors like neurodivergent burnout and poverty and overwork affecting our already typically more vulnerable physical bodies.

There, again, are examples of the increasing links being found between the physical control center for our bodies and the physical organs it controls, in both directions.

And in the end, maybe what that person meant was only "don't talk about neurodivergence entirely unrelated to physical disability". But what would they consider unrelated, if such an experience even truly exists? If we don't explain the complex interrelationship of our disabilities and draw the parallels for why we're talking about the totality of our disability, will we be considered to be violating that boundary?

When we're starting from a basis of considering neurodivergence "non-physical" (when from a medical standpoint there is no "mindsoul" separate from the body), how do we know if what's considered neurodivergence is about arbitrary distinctions such as "physical" diagnostic manuals vs the DSM, about what stereotypes and ignorance have categorized as "mostly brainbased" and "mostly bodybased", or just about assumptions of good faith?

We'd like to not have the triggers that send our internal warning klaxons blaring, that activate in our body before our mind and emotions can scramble to catch up and leave our physical symptoms flared for days after the emotions chill tf out about it. We'd like to be able to assume that when a distinction that will always be inherently arbitrary for our experience of disability is made, that whether or not assumptions of good faith will be made is not arbitrary.

We don't have that luxury, and so we often don't find community, space for our complex experiences, resources, and more, even from people who have otherwise proven themselves to be trustworthy via explicit acts of solidarity.

And again, none of this is directed at the person whose post we referenced. This is a far wider-reaching problem that any one person or blog, and quite frankly we know there's a possibility we're missing context that makes this post being an exception to their usual stances make complete sense. While from someone actively neuroableist we'd assume it was because the tags are less visible than the post, quite frankly, we don't believe that's the case here, and are assuming good faith ourselves to the fullest extent possible.

This post only clarified our feelings about our experiences and wider issues in both disabled communities and society as a whole. It being gentler actually allowed us not to go into full throttle triggered state and evaluate what about wider sentiments that divide "neurodivergent" and "physically disabled" into discrete separate categories is so harmful and upsetting.

We don't really have anything to neatly tie this into a bow. We'll just always be neurophysically disabled, inseparably. Until erasure of complex and intersectional experiences stops and we can talk about that in spaces that center any fraction of our whole total disability, this form of ableism - binarableism, perhaps? as part of the larger umbrellas of both ableism and binarism (of things that aren't binaries?) - will continue to harm disabled people.

[hockeygossipunhinged]

Hello this is still the “ex” anon lol. I want to say I’m glad y’all are enjoying the tea lol, but this will be my last post before someone jumps me lol. I’m deleting Tumblr after this post, so I won’t be responding to anymore questions.

Can someone explain to me why both jim and Ellen don’t want Jack being out in the public? That’s just something I don’t get

- they want to make sure people know he’s taking his recovery very seriously since ppl were giving him shit about his playing while injured. Plus they want the focus to be on their future Norris winner.

ignore the stupid ass wording but did this actually happen between ellen and sammy because sideline times we don’t know if they’re reliable but you did say ellen isn’t a fan, have they gotten into arguments or ellen being harsh

- I just read the article and I can’t believe that got out lol. I didn’t think I was gonna speak on it but yeah it’s part of the reason they’re not on friendly terms. It’s a mix of Ellen finding out about the Luke thing (post skate), Sammy writing an email responding to a news outlet asking for details about their romance ( I’m not sure how Ellen specifically found out it was Sammy, but basically their PR team was sent the emails asked for further comment from Ellen and Ellen got pissed tf off) and the Zionist stuff, she’s not a fan favorite.

What have u heard them say could u give us a few examples of how they brag (about being Jewish)

- they just use it as a personality trait, like look at me I’m “ethnic” and different and cool. They also use it as an excuse to be rude sometimes. Like for example one time she was in class with her friends and they were doing a group project and they were really stand offish towards this girl and when confronted they claimed it was bc they were Jewish and Jewish ppl are standoffish. It’s stuff like that.

Does Sammy even feel guilty of cheating on Jack?? Like that would be the end for me and Do they move past it or does Jack hold her accountable I wonder if she gaslights considering the way she acts

- So I’m not 100% she’s ever cheated on him. One of their mutual friends told Jack she cheated on him at a party, but there wasn’t any proof and Sammy denied it so I think he just let it go. He’s definitely suspicious of her tho and she’s been known to cheat on boyfriends before. But I can’t confirm she did.

are they actually planning on moving in together if you do know anon?

- no there isn’t any plans, they’re not serious. I meant they’re together like bf/gf but they aren’t serious like moving in planning the future serious. Sorry for the confusion.

anon do you see them still staying together once the season starts and they aren’t long distance anymore?

- nope, I think Jack will be so focused on the season and having a great season he probably won’t have time for her. However I can’t predict the future.

What do they say during their fights?

- idk man, I’ve just heard yelling. I know there’s a good bit of jealousy that’s about it.

do you know if some of the boys check what their fans do for example tumblr/tiktok and more? I'm curious about it

- I know their team sometimes lurks here when the boys (mainly Jack) does something stupid. But the boys not so much. The boys normally avoid fandom stuff, but they do see twitter, instagram, and TikTok stuff.

What are sammys friends like? Are any of them nice? Idk I couldn’t be friends with someone like that even if they were nice to me

- they’re basically just like her, some are nicer than others, some are meaner than others.

How did jack and Sammy meet?

- They met through mutual friends at a party around August.

question for anon regarding this part: "Yes they are on here (i'm probably gonna get jumped lol). And yes they know people are watching, they love the attention."

is this something she'd openly admit to? how do you know? that's so embarrassing for her lol

- Because she makes jokes about it and shows it off. I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier but we have mutual friends so I know about a lot of convos she has regarding fandom stuff. Also I’ve seen many of her friends’ private stories on snap where she’ll mock different fandom stuff. She doesn’t do it around the boys, so idk if they’ve seen that or not. Idk who on snap they follow.

I’ve summarized EX ANON’s stories here and maybe both of you have crossed path… I need to know if you have more information from your cousin regarding Luke/Sammy/Jack saga? Because sideline times said, luke had a crush with sammy 😭 (“Curly & Confused has also lost his crush to his brother”)

- I know this isn’t for me, but I doubt Luke had a crush on her beyond thinking she was pretty. He was defo grossed out by her crazy behavior so that went away QUICK. But Luke is really guarded about his love life, so maybe there’s more, but I’m doubtful.

Thank you anon! Stay safe

[sapphic-agent]

I really hope my ask won't be seen as mean, hope to word correctly....bc your last post about how Eri and Shig do share some common ground. I agree but it irks me how LoV stans use this to make shig sound not so bad.

Many fics and arts where "shig saved Eri" exists as Eri is an accessory for Shig and nothing else.

I do see the paralels here. I do wonder about the mother....did overhaul killed her?

It's very convenient for the heroes to label Eri's quirk as good ...bc if she had just decay...she would be label as having a bad quirk. Maybe the heroes wouldn't care much. (Makes me wonder where are the healing quirks or medical advancement in this world)

But while they have a similar backstory...how Izu would possible know? I sincerely ask here bc AM went radio silence regards Shig to Izu, same with Gran and the police did a really lousy investigation (I'm assuming is lousy bc we don't see what they did and whatever they did it was one time thing) and didn't share the infos with Izu.

Does Izu knows about the nomus?

Im even surprised he knows shig is TENKO...but of course, such reveal is underwealming as fuck and him and Nana don't take at all.

Izu is mistreated by the narrative and no one talks to him ever.

Not to harpy on your post bc I agree this could have been useful....but like how Izu would know anything about Shig? Unless Shig tells or Izu becames the best hacker ever...or reads mind...he can't know. Ever.

I've said this before, but the reason Izuku doesn't understand Shigaraki is because they haven't interacted enough prior to the Final War.

Their conversation at the mall was a good moment. It shows that a) Izuku has the capacity to resonate with a villain's intent AND disagree with their actions (Stain), b) Shigaraki at this point didn't have a goal or direction, and c) it IS possible for Izuku to understand why hero society is corrupt. It also highlights the differences between them, attempting to show them as complete opposites.

The mall scene was a great way to explain the dynamic between them. And it's something that should have been expanded on throughout the story.

Admittedly, I don't know how Shigaraki's backstory would come up. But I'm sure it wouldn't be a hard thing to do. Didn't All Might pull up Tenko Shimura's disappearance? Maybe Izuku figures it out on his own somehow. Idk.

But to me, it doesn't even specifically have to be Tenko's actual past. It could be an implied thing that Izuku learns from watching how people treat Eri. Hell, part of him already has a clue from his fight with Shinsou.

(One thing I actually hate about Izuku's character is his inability to acknowledge the corruption of society despite being a victim of it. He started off being able to do this with Stain, but for some reason that just went away. He studies under Endeavor, even defends him to Dabi and tells Todoroki he's ready to forgive him. Lady Nagant spelled it out for him and he just... Doesn't react. Doesn't even think about what she said. This is on Horikoshi's awful writing decisions, but it's the one criticism of Izuku that's 100% valid)

Eri shouldn't be used for Shigaraki's redemption. I honestly wouldn't want her around any of the LOV, that's putting her in danger to make another character look better. It's the same issue that I have with Aizawa making Bakugou watch her.

But I do think that Izuku's experiences with the people around him- which includes Eri- should give him a broader worldview. That's typically how development and growth work. If Izuku was going to reach out and try to save Shigaraki, it should have been with an understanding of how society failed Shigaraki.

Saving him also could have meant a lot of different things. Saving Shigaraki from AFO's influence/brainwashing wasn't a bad goal. Saving him from himself, though, is different. People have to want to change, you can't make them. You can give them support, but Izuku wasn't in a position to do so because he's, y'know, a sixteen year old who isn't even an official pro hero. Of course he wasn't equipped for this. Most actual pros wouldn't have been

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Another snippet of Heartstopper AU because I was asked to share some of the locked in the music room incident between Mirabel and Moana.

This is actually what happened in the music room, skipping over Mirabel panicking for the first couple minutes. Moana sits Mirabel down and confesses her feelings for her - long overdue, I know, but they are teens; give them a break.

First part here for anyone who missed it.

Specifically by @dandylion94.

“Please? Anyone?”

Moana tried not to watch Mirabel as she called out from beyond the locked door. She wouldn’t say she was surprised by the reaction - who would be thrilled to be trapped in a room? Never mind the fact she is meant to be on stage by now. She couldn’t help but feel bad for her crush.

“I don’t think anyone is coming,” she said.

Mirabel sighed, “Of course not. It is after hours. And everyone who is here is in the hall. I just thought… maybe someone would have been sent after me, perhaps.”

“You aren’t really shouting either.” Moana pointed out.

“I refuse to interrupt if they have already started. I knew I shouldn’t have taken my watch off.” Mirabel glanced back for a moment. “Are you sure your device has no power? You haven’t just turned it off or locked yourself out? It would be the sort of thing Camilo or one of his friends would do.”

“I’m sure my phone is dead, yeah.” Moana waved her hand a little in thought. “You don’t think we’re all stupid, do you?”

“I never said that,” Mirabel retorted. “But… I have never seen any one of you pick up a book and try studying for your exams. If it isn’t stupidity, it is carelessness.”

Mirabel finally shifted away from the door, admitting defeat. She settled back down beside the table where she had left her flute atop of the missing sheet music. Moana had been watching her pace and stare and plead with God in the far corner, not exactly sure what to say to her now that push had come to shove. Fortunately, it would not be her to break the silence.

“Why are you here?” Mirabel asked.

She raised an eyebrow slightly at the younger, “What do you mean?”

“You aren't part of the orchestra. You don’t need to be in school and you certainly had no permission to come back into the departments after hours.” Mirabel paused. “Hence my question: why are you here?”

“I bought a ticket to watch,” she replied.

“It still doesn’t give you access to come back here. You can’t be here, you don’t even take music!” Mirabel countered.

“Well, I do take drama—”

“Well, this is a music room.”

“—And I wanted to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t have picked a less opportune moment if you tried. I am meant to be on stage at this point and instead I’m locked in here because you wanted to talk.”

“I didn’t realise it was so close to the start of performance, but it took me a while to find—”

“What would you need to talk to me about anyways? You’re Camilo’s friend, not mine. I understand you are the only girl of a group and being surrounded by men all the time must be terrible, and I’m the closest one of Camilo’s family to your age, but that doesn’t automatically mean we are friends.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to tell you—”

“We barely even know each other. I only know what Camilo has yapped about - and bear in mind that is only explained through internet jokes I don’t get and his limited vocabulary. Would it hurt him to read a book?” Mirabel went on. Perhaps not noticing the other was talking. “I don’t even need your companionship. I could make friends, if I wanted. I’m the one who pulled away from my old friend group, not the other way around. I’m sure they appreciated having an intelligent person to leech off for good grades to keep their parents happy, so they were continuously allowed out to smoke and drink and touch. It is not my fault that I can act like a child and not think of such adult matters. I am diligently working to secure my future and that’s actually better than—”

“MIRABEL!”

She hadn’t meant to yell, but she wanted the girl’s attention and needed Mirabel to be quiet long enough to hear her out.

Mirabel’s mouth snapped shut and she looked up at her in some mix of confusion and sorrowful shock. But didn’t seem to take offence. (Moana reckons that she’s well aware she rambles). After a moment, she looked away, pretending to have spotted a spec of dirt on her flute and trying to clean it off with her sleeve.

Taking a deep breath, Moana swung her legs off the chair she had been sitting on and approached Mirabel.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” she said. “Will you sit for a moment? We can talk after, or just sit here in silence if you’d like, but I need you to listen to me for a minute. Okay?”

Mirabel’s eyes danced for a moment, clearly trying to read her face and workout where this was going. Moana gladly took the free opportunity to admire them close up. When did they get so close? Had she stepped closer than she meant to? Had Mirabel moved? To be honest… they were almost, almost close enough to kiss.

Finally, Mirabel stepped aside to the closest chair. “You can have as many minutes as you’d like,” she answered. “It has been made very clear to me that no one is coming for me anytime soon. Good to know how important I was as the lead flutist.”

Moana couldn’t help but laugh a little at the snark. It helped soothe some of her nerves and pull her away from thoughts about their closeness. And the hope they might get closer still.

“Right, well, um… do you remember the Monday before prom?” She started. Gesturing a little with her hands - at least she could pretend that Mirabel was tentatively watching them as oppose to staring down her soul, still trying to workout what this was all about. “Camilo, Marco and I were all dressed up in costumes for the drama apartment; Milo played the trumpet really badly and we read some Shakespearean nonsense to you; the same day Luisa was late to get you?”

“Yes, the eleventh. I remember.” Mirabel replied.

“Okay, that was me trying to ask you to go to prom with me. Like a date.” Moana paused, putting emphasis on the word and ensuring there could be no understanding this time. “I had realised the week before that I had a crush on you. And Milo said that would be the best idea to impress you. It was a bit over the top for me, but I was willing to do it for you. But it obviously didn't really work. And then at prom… you, well, you left for most of it for some reason I didn’t get?”

“Luisa took me to the museum. It was a block behind the venue for prom,” Mirabel supplied, smiling a bit. “But I never wanted to go to prom anyways.”

Well, that certainly explained why the prom proposal went so poorly.

“When you did get back, you did let me have a few dances with you.” That same blush crept back into her face. “It was nice.” Recollecting herself, she continued, “I like you, Mirabel. I really like you.”

Mirabel’s jaw hit the floor.

“I’m sorry if I’ve come off annoying for the last while but it’s because I liked you and wanted to spend time with you, get to know you. A bit curious if you maybe felt the same way about me - or could feel the same way. But I can promise that I never meant to offend you in any way, everything has been out of love. It’s just hard… you are so unique and different and I can never tell what you are thinking at any moment, I have tried and I will continue to try if… if you’d let me be your girlfriend. Would you?”

Mirabel didn’t even blink.

“Mirabel? ..You okay?” She asked.

The younger swallowed, “Can you repeat all of that? I think I misheard.”

[heretherebedork]

Hi,

I have a question about your comments on Love Sea. Genuinely no hate, I’m just curious. Are you saying that, because we should have clear, enthusiastic consent 100% of the time in real life (which is obviously completely correct and I’m not disagreeing with that at all), we cannot/should not ever explore anything other than that in fiction? I’m not disagreeing that Mame romanticises a specific dynamic that includes ignoring ‘no’ in a way that would be completely wrong, immoral, and criminal, in real life, but this isn’t real life. If people enjoy that dynamic in fiction, and that is the dynamic Mame wants to write, and that viewers expect from her, isn’t that up to them? Even if they do also praise better representations of consent in other shows, isn’t it possible they enjoy seeing this dynamic explored, in fiction, but are also glad it’s not the only representation of consent out there and that there are also others that are closer to what would be appropriate in reality. It doesn’t have to be either/or, does it?

So. The answer to this is dear lord I didn't tag the show for a reason.

But also.

The answer to that is that sometimes it works. When Mut was carrying Rak into the sea and Rak was saying no and they were both laughing and it was fun and teasing? That was fine! That was a no that obviously wasn't meant as a serious no and was joking.

But when Mut was dragging him out to his motorbike and he was protesting the entire time and telling him he didn't want to go and didn't want to be there and to stop and Mut had to literally scare him to make him go with? That's not okay. Because that is literally takin g no means no and making it a joke.

The dynamic being explored here works in so many contexts without specifically making 'no means no' into a joke. There are so many ways that this kind of dynamic can work that doesn't have to specifically be 'man, isn't it romantic the way he ignored his no?'

I don't tag the show in my posts because I don't want to show up in the tag or bother people who enjoy this. I use specific tags to let people easily block my posts.

But the honest answer is that making it works and exploring the dynamic also includes acknowledging what you're exploring in the process. And neither MAME nor her fans are doing that. Typically fans write this off as romantic and sexy and not as anything they wouldn't want in real life. I've had people argue with me for literal pages about the diary reading scene in the Other Show and how it was so needed and romantic and just...

Look, I like codependency in fictional romances! It's not romantic in real life but I love it in fiction. It's one of my favorite tropes. I love Love Syndrome III and it's toxic as fuck. But that show knew it was toxic and fully embraced that it was toxic and didn't try to write that as the romance but rather as a fucked up relationship that was what the two leads wanted despite how toxic it was. And I loved it! A+!

The problem with exploring a dynamic without acknowledging that you're exploring the dynamic is that it turns no means no into a joke in the show and that's... that's just unpleasant.

People are free to explore things and enjoy things and I specifically don't tag my criticism with the show for that reason. But the problem is that people talk about how sexy all of this and enjoy it and will be very clear, just like MAME was last episode about 'people asked why characters do things' that what they want is... whatever that means, I guess?

I post criticism that is specifically tagged to let people avoid it because I want people to know what I think and that I do see these shows and can offer criticism but also that it's not for the fans of the show because it's specifically tagged for them to avoid.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Ahem.

Imagine Billy’s first spring show at the academy being Frankenstein. He and Steve are still in their rival stage and Steve is gloating because he got the part of Victor, who is technically the lead. Billy’s pissed because they were both good but he thinks he did better at his audition. No he doesn’t think it, he knows it.

This is total bullshit and obvious favoritism. He wants to just pack his bags and walk out, only he hasn’t hated the last couple of months the way he thought he would. His classes are challenging and it’s been nice not having to hide his books or pretend like he doesn’t give a shit about his grades without his dad looming over him. And fuck, yeah, he’ll admit it, he’s not sure if he’s ready to give up dancing again.

Being able to practice every day with Argyle & Eddie who almost feel like friends now, learning from teachers who really know their stuff and who can push him to be better - he’s not ready to walk away from it. Which burns. Because he doesn’t want to need this place more than he wants it; and that’s what drives him into Mrs. Harrington’s office, calling her out for her Nepo Casting. He all but dares her to admit that he was better and therefore should have gotten the part as Victor.

He’s speechless when she agrees with him - about the audition. Not about the part.

“I don’t need to tell you you’re good Billy. You already know it. You’ve scored the highest on every exam this term.”

“So then why -”

“Because this is a school, Billy, and while some competition between students is to be expected you shouldn’t mistake this for one. This place is meant to prepare you for the world first, but more specifically to teach you to be an artist within it. Our job as your teachers is not to hand out parts based on how you score on a sheet, but on how you might grow. I gave you that role because you bring something to it that few of your fellow students can, and I believe there is much you can learn from it. Likewise, the part of Victor will challenge Steve technically as well as mentally. When I approved the curriculum for this term I’ll admit I wasn’t confident that reading the novel in English would sufficiently teach him anything about the pitfalls of pride and hubris -”

Billy snorts. Because if Harrington manages to write a thoughtful essay on Frankenstein’s themes without Wheeler spoon feeding it to him he’ll eat his hat. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes dance like she read his mind and shrugs.

“I was never much of a reader either. Dance has always spoken to me in a language that is easier to understand.” She smiles at him, tenderly, with that same look in her eye that Billy’s mom always had when she talked about dance. It’s a look he sees every day now reflected in the eyes of so many almost friends. Still. It’s not fair. Steve gets the lead because he’s an arrogant prick and mommy hopes playing out the demise of another stuck up asshole will teach him to play nice with the other kids, and Billy just has to take it?

“It’s not fair.” he challenges, and Mrs. H. sighs a little, her smile fading as her expression settles into something more serious. Final.

“You did very well Billy. But no. Victor is not the role you should have.” She says, closing the door on any further argument with one of her direct unblinking stares. “I’m confident you’ll do very well as the creature, and that the rest of this term will be an education for you.”

She doesn’t say as much but Billy doesn’t need anyone to tell him the conversation is over. For better or for worse he’s Frankinstien’s creature and he’s going to have to put up with Steve, Tommy and Jason giving him shit until the show is over. As he leaves the madame’s office he vows to himself then and there that he’s going to outshine Steve on that stage and make him eat every word. Victor isn’t even the true protagonist of that story anyway, and Billy’s going to show them all why.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think the Horcrux in Harry is “sentient” the way the rusty or locket were

I assume you meant the diary there and not rusty, and honestly, my knee-jerk reaction was that I don't think so. Like, not to the same level of sentience, but it should have some sentience. So I collected some of the passages in the books that I could think of off the top of my head that could be read as the Horcrux in Harry being sentient:

Something very painful was going on in Harry’s mind. As Hagrid’s story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

(PS, 43)

Basically, the whole memory of the night James and Lily died I think is the Horcrux's memory and not Harry's. Considering Harry was a year and a half old and shouldn't really remember anything, especially as he can't see Thestrals (which he would have if he saw and processed their deaths, which he has to actually remember their deaths to do).

It happened in a fraction of a second: In the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said “three,” Harry looked up at him — they were very close together — and Dumbledore’s clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry’s face. At once, Harry’s scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again — and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, that he would like nothing better than to strike — to bite — to sink his fangs into the man before him —

(OotP, 474)

Harry feels emotions that aren't his own since Voldemort's resurrection quite often, but usually, these are the main Voldemort's emotions, not the Horcrux's. This above scene is one I feel the hatred is coming from the Horcrux. Because Voldemort isn't there, he isn't feeling especially angry at Dumbledore at that moment, but Harry feels that anger rises towards Dumbledore, specifically, the desire to strike Dumbledore down because that's what the Hurcrux wants.

The other thing I sometimes circle back to when thinking about how sentient the Horcrux in Harry's scar is, are the passages when he resists the Imperius Curse in GoF:

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody’s voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk . . . jump onto the desk. . . . Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring. Jump onto the desk. . . . Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice. Jump onto the desk. . . . No, I don’t think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly . . . no, I don’t really want to. . . . Jump! NOW!

(GoF, 231)

And Harry felt, for the third time in his life, the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought. . . . Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming . . . just answer no . . . say no . . . just answer no. . . . I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I won’t answer. . . . Just answer no. . . . I won’t do it, I won’t say it. . . . Just answer no. . . . “I WON’T!”

(GoF, 661)

The reason it always struck me as odd is that usually, Harry doesn't think this way. Usually, he just has his thoughts, not a conversation with a small voice in his head. And the voice sounds off, not like Hary usually does.

There are other times he thinks like this, though, like when he learns Ron was chosen as Prefect over him:

Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry’s head. Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn’t fight Quirrell with me. They didn’t take on Riddle and the basilisk. They didn’t get rid of all those dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren’t in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned. . . . And the same feeling of ill usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I’ve definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I’ve done more than either of them! But maybe, said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore doesn’t choose prefects because they’ve got themselves into a load of dangerous situations. . . . Maybe he chooses them for other reasons. . . . Ron must have something you don’t. . . .

(OotP, 166-167)

This passage of Harry arguing with "himself" over his jealousy over the prefect position sounds like it could be the Horcrux. It's so similar to how the diary and the locket tried to manipulate anyone they could. The fact that the voice at the end gives up the pretense of saying "I" and "me" when referring to Harry and just goes with "you". I don't think it was JKR's intention but because Harry only thinks this way in very specific scenes I always found it a bit jarring when it appears. The description of a little voice at the back of his head, not that different from how Harry described the Sorting Hat talking to him could definitely be read as the Horcrux speaking to him.

But if so, why would the Horcrux help Harry against Voldemort? Simple, the Horcrux doesn't want to die. It isn't really sentient enough to influence Harry, most of these scenes are a bit of a reach, but he is sentient enough to know it wants to live and to spew a bit of hate towards Dumbledore and Harry's friends. Because if Harry's alone, he's likely to be weaker to the Horcrux taking over.

The conclusion is that the Horcrux in Harry's scar might be more sentient than I ever gave it credit for. Obviously, these scenes might be just Harry with an odd thinking pattern JKR wrote awkwardly, but, it feels strange to me at least. Strange enough that I consider it being the Horcrux a viable explanation.

[corvodumpy]

explain blaseball to me like I don’t know what baseball is

In the most simple explanation possible (simple does not mean short), it was a baseball simulator where the fans could bet on the teams with fake currency. The teams were all original teams and the players were randomly generated from their names, stats, position, down to their preference in coffee and pregame rituals. Fans would pick a favorite team and use the money they gained to buy raffle tickets, which were submitted into an online election system.

The election page contain simple things like "improve one of your players batting stats", "trade a player with the season winning team", or massive rule changing things like "The Top 4 Teams of the Regular Season must run an extra base next season" or "Every Season, a random team from each Subleague will become the 5th Playoff team. A best of 3 Wild Card series will happen on Fridays."

Fans would often work together to pool their raffle votes on what they wanted. The winners were pulled at random but the more votes you submitted the better your chances. The game took harsh turns into cosmic horror very quickly. The first season allowed fans to vote to "open a forbiden book" which resulted in the book cursing the game as a whole, causing solar eclipse weather which caused the umpires to occasionally turn into mindless killers who would randomly incinerate players mid-game. These deaths were permanent and the player was immediately replaced with no fanfare.

Fans often got very attached to their teams players, drawing art of what they look like or writing up stories about them, so their deaths often really meant something to a lot of people. Fans would often find ways to manipulate the simulation to do weird things, or try to push their team in interesting directions to reach some goal. The game devs often noticed what the fans were doing and would play into their games to cause many funny "monkeys paw" results.

One of the most famous involved a player named Jaylen Hotdogfingers. She was killed when the forbidden book was opened because she was the best pitcher in the league and it wanted to punish us. There was an option in an election one season to "steal the 14th most popular player onto your team" and fans quickly noticed you were still allowed to claim dead players were your favorite. Jaylen was listed as playing for the "Null" team because she was obviously dead, but it still counted as a real team. Fans succeeded in trading with this "null" team and jaylen was brought back to life. Fans refer to this as Necromancy.

When she started playing, she returned to pitching, but she started causing "Hit-By-Pitch"s, which was not a standard part of the simulation at this point. Players hit were marked as "Unstable". Eventually, an unstable player was incinerated, and that instability spread to another player activly in that game, and text read out "[PLAYER] was incinerated, A Debt was Collected."

So jaylen was spreading some "mark for death" on players on purpose to repay whatever God controlled this game for bringing her back from the dead. This lead to a domino effect of death until this debt was repaid that many fans call "Ruby Tuesday."

Overall the game had a few main plots, one involving us challenging/killing one of the gods of this game, the other fighting against the "boss" turning the game into a profit hungry hellscape. The fanart was insanely good, the unique stories every fan had about their team and players were always fun, and a lot of good was done for many different charities. Many fans would get together and make music, resulting in a band and record lable.

All fan communication was done through an official discord or team specific sidecords, so live games had live fans watching in real time. It really was a "you had to be there" thing, a real cultural event. Fans have done everything they can to preserve it. Nothing will ever match the energy of the live discovery of events in a live chat, but the messages are all still in there, and there's a website to replay the old games exactly as they were. And the blaseball wiki is a blast to scroll through even if you never watched it because all the player and team pages are filled with the stories fans made up.

Anyways Goobie Ballson did nothing wrong

*coughs up blood and dies*

[emiliosandozsequence]

Your choice of SPN character has been hit with a curse of Endless Chatter. Write one run-on sentence of dialogue for them (until your own stream-of-consciousness runs out!).

Sam Winchester - s8 finale

A confession. I have a lot to confess, don't I. More than most anyway. I mean, how many people can say they started the apocalypse. Granted, I guess I stopped it too, but not before a lot of people had already lost their lives, lost loved ones. And that's on me; that's something I can't ever take back. I'm the one that chose to trust a demon and drink her blood. It doesn't matter the rest of the details that led up to the final decision to open the gates of Hell. If I'd just been smarter, it wouldn't have happened.

And that's what matters.

If I'd been smarter, I would've known Ruby was planning to free Lucifer. Hell, if I'd been smarter, I would've listened to Dean in the first place and not trusted her at all. I would've shot her with the Colt in that motel room in the first time she showed her black eyes to me in Cicero. But I didn't, and, again, that's what matters.

That isn't even all I've done.

I've failed the world and, indeed, those I love most more times than I can count. I might be able to forgive myself if they were able to forgive me, but it's evident from how things always get brought up that they haven't and, at this point, probably won't. I can hardly blame them because I understand where they're coming from. I can't say I would be too forgiving myself in their position. I mean...would I really have been able to forgive Dean if he'd gone off to college at eighteen and left me alone with Dad? Maybe that's why Dean's still so mad about that: not becaus I left for college, but because I left for college and he was still with Dad. He'd never admit it, though. He'd never say outloud that Dad was anything but a saint to him. He forgets I was there. He forgets I know differently. He forgets I experienced it too. And maybe that's why I can't forgive myself either. Why everything else I've ever done to wrong him - or that he's perceived as me wronging him - has hit both of us so hard: because I know what I did by leaving him behind with Dad. So that's my greatest sin, I guess. Every time I let Dean down. Every time I ran from him when I should have stayed. Every time I chose myself instead of him when he's chosen me every time he's ever had to make any choice ever. And, really, how can I forgive myself? How can I look myself in the mirror and grin at my reflection knowing all that? Knowing that it effects Dean enough that he still brings it up to this day? Could you? If I'm honest with myself, I don't know if I ever will. I don't know if I even can. But I suppose this can be a start. I can make this confession and finish these trials and do better every day to show Dean how sorry I am. How much I won't let this happen again. Maybe then he can heal. Maybe then he can forgive me too. And if I can't forgive myself, then, well, this is the next best thing.

[redysetdare]

every time i see a post that is like "ughh why cant we have aspec characters who aren't aroace for once" I have to do a double take like "is the aroace rep in the room with us right now?" because genuinely....where is all this aroace rep y'all are complaining about? Why cant i find it yet it's apparently the only aspec rep we get?? You admit that TV never says the word aromantic so where is the aroace rep. So far I've pretty much only seen canonically asexual characters and not much else buddy.

[deerteetharepretty]

Hey, if you want to make friends with another trans person, don't call them by their AGAB. It's weird and doesn't come off like you think. I mean no judgment, but y'all are phrasing it the same way turfs and trans fetishizers do. Please just acknowledge we're both trans without using AGAB when talking to a new person who doesn't know you. It's completely unnecessary. Honestly, it just makes me and a lot of other trans ppl feel extremely dysphoric.