#hes pretty solidly in the brain like that

[mossdoesartshit]

Here’s something to keep in mind. So like the sinners take on the forms of what killed them typically, in scenarios of violent deaths, like that is displayed across both series, so like what if Adam ends up partially resembling Niffty as a result, to propose an alternate design?

that could be cool! i did include nifty's stabbing through adam in his scars, hes got scars from rib removal and nifty around his stomach!

alas, admittedly i have also grown attached to my design of sinner!adam, for atleast the story im planning to tell(and there are reasons ive designed him like that, and this answer is getting so long already i dont want to make an essay HUGFDNOIUJN), so any nifty related changes would not be anything major i dont think. Could be a fun design exercise though!

adam will be getting his... groove back? so to say? the stuff ive currently been working on ive been calling Arc 1, after which he'll get the Full Sinner!Adam Design(tm), and more of his snark back, so maybe some small nifty elements can weave their way in, who knows!

thank you for getting my brain cogs whirring though, that design exercise is very in the brain

[mobbothetrue]

I’ve reached the point in my Fairy Tail rewatch where it’s further along than tfd ever got, which means shit keeps happening that makes me go “fucking WHAT”

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[aroaceleovaldez]

was reminded of this: so "seaweed brain" and "wise girl" in the series are actually kind of interesting (alongside "pinecone face") for a couple of reasons.

First is that Clarisse was actually the first character to use "Wise Girl" to refer to Annabeth, to her face, and in fact uses about the same amount of times as Percy in the first series. Thalia also uses "Seaweed Brain" independently of hearing it from Annabeth during Percy's dreams in TLT and Sea of Monsters. Nico also calls Percy "Seaweed Brain" in Un Natale Mezzosangue. Fun facts.

Second is that they were originally intended as light-hearted insults - because both originate from the first book and Percy and Annabeth bickering. In Titan's Curse, Percy pretty solidly acknowledges that anybody but Annabeth calling him "seaweed brain" is an offense to him by that point (though he doesn't care when Nico does it in Un Natale Mezzosangue). We also know that Percy has tried and failed to come up with witty comebacks to those nicknames before.

Third, Rick has 4 ways of writing characters swearing - the characters being cut off (seen with Nico in TTC), the characters are described as swearing but we don't actually see their exact words (Hazel in SoN), the characters actually swear (only present in Percy's Guide To Greek Heroes when he says "ass" like five times), and the characters use a replacement term for their swear (most commonly seen in Heroes of Olympus, every time Leo says "freaking" - he is very clearly implied to be saying "fucking.")

So, based on all of that, we can actually potentially infer that "seaweed brain" and "wise girl" (and "pinecone face") are censored swears, and Annabeth and Percy are actually constantly affectionately calling each other "Dumbass" and "Smartass" (and by that logic, Percy called Thalia "shitface" or something similar one time)

anyways i just think that's funny

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)

Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.

He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.

Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.

Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.

"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"

SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.

"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"

And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!

-----------------------------------------

Clark has no idea what's happening.

He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.

Not unusual, right?

Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!

Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?

Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.

This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!

Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!

Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-

A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??

What in the world-

-----------------------------------------

"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"

Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.

"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"

"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"

Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."

And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.

"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐭 𝐎𝐮𝐭 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐭𝐰𝐨🤍

𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕨 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.4k

genres: established friendship

warnings: voluntary usage of sir, desperation, gentle!dom!matt, slight blasphemy, biting, slight choking.

notes from bambi: no use of y/n, poc friendly, thank you for all the love 🎀

pt. one here, pt. three here

Immediately, his hips shuddered into yours, cock pressed solidly against your heat. A whoosh of air left his chest and traveled down the front of your body. 

“What are you doin’, hun…” he groaned, his voice desperate.

You didn't respond, your hands still burrowed in his hair. You let your tongue slip out and flick across the soft, and oh-so-sensitive expanse of skin below his ear.

Matt’s hips bucked once more, his pelvis thrusting up to your stomach. “Haaaa….” he breathed, chest beginning to heave. 

And then, many things happened all at once. Matt’s head shot up from its resting place on your shoulder, and the hand he wasn't using to support you darted up to your neck, fingers tightly wrapping around it’s front. He pulled away slightly to stare once more into your eyes, his look full of an almost-lethal desire. “Kiss me,” he said breathlessly. Your stomach flipped, and you pulled his head to yours, lips mere centimeters apart. You pressed your neck and trachea into his unmoving hand, all your pent up desperation begging, pleading for release. “It’s right there,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “Kiss me.”

Your stomach dropped out of your body as a whimper of frustration slipped from your mouth, and Matt groaned, his cock twitching against your now-soaked panties. “Wanna…trying to…”

“Trying to what, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice full of kindness in direct opposition to the cruelty of his restricting, evil hand. The one braced against your back slipped southward, toying with the lower half of your tee, coming close to touching skin but staying just out of reach. 

“Please Matty, I wanna…” you whimpered, the lack of air sensing your brain into a cool, lightheaded state of bliss.

“You wanna kiss me so bad you'll choke for it?” he finished for you. You ground your hips into his, the hardness of his cock a slight relief from the throbbing of your heat. “I think you're reading too much porn, sweet girl.”

“Hnng,” you groaned, pressing harder against his hand, lips finally drifting across his mouth, costing only the rest of your air. The contact elicited a whimper of pure filth from your throat, and Matt responded with an animalistic snarl. He yanked his hand away, shoved it into your hair, and smothered your lips in an all-encompassing kiss. 

Air flowed out from his body and into yours, life exchanged in a single moment, an apology for the lack of oxygen in the form of sacrificing his for you. Your hands clenched in his curls, and in response, his fingers dug into the back of your neck, holding you to him in a vice grip. 

You groaned into his open jaw. Matt's thighs squeezed your body, your hips rutting into his, messy, needy, soaked panties against painfully hard cock. “Fuckkkk…” he groaned, his hands slipping down to grip your shoulder blades and back. 

“Matty…nnnnghh…”

Matt broke the kiss and tucked his nose next to yours, nudging at your flushed skin like a literal animal. “You sound so pretty,” he breathed, “When you're dying for me.”

Your whimpers fell into whines, all the more dog-like in your rutting like an animal in heat, desperate for release, for friction, for-

“Am I making you tingly, baby?” Matt murmured, nosing under your jaw, flicking your skin with the tip of his devilish tongue.

You could only vocalize, pleading notes of longing rolling off of your tongue. Matt pushed your back flat onto the bed, so he leaned over you as your legs were spread around him. “Am I making your stomach feel hollow?” he asked, placing a shiver-inducing kiss on your nose. “Am I making your pussy feel empty?” 

You whined, a high-pitched noise of affirmation.

“Yeah?” Matt replied patronizingly, smiling against your t-shirt-covered chest. “Do you wanna be stuffed, pretty girl?”

“Nnnnyes, Mattyyyyy,” you moaned, bucking your needy cunt up towards his rock-hard cock.

“You just can't help it, can you…” he murmured, leaning away to look at all of you. “Such a needy girl.” Matt extended one leg towards the floor, slipping off the bed. His fingers dug underneath the hem of his sweats and he tugged them down, struggling over the bulge of his cock. You reached for your heat, slipping underneath the worn panty material, over the dusting of soft hair, towards your clit, throbbing with your frantic heartbeat. With your other hand, you tugged the hem of the t-shirt down to cover your desperation. Matt’s hurried stripping slowed to a halt. “What do you think you're doing.”

“Wanna feel goodddd,” you mewled, panting up at him, lips parted, brows tilted upwards, silently begging him to let you keep going. Your finger dipped into the cum-slick folds, garnering a coating of liquid pleasure and, moving upwards, pressed above the writhing knot of nerves, flicking back and forth, each motion a spritz of tingling pleasure. 

Matt flung his shirt off and let his sweats fall to the floor, stepping out of them as his gaze remained rocksteady on your cunt. His hand trailed over the rumpled bed covers toward your t-shirt hem. “At least let me watch, yeah?” 

You obeyed, albeit self-consciously, and let the hem slip away, revealing the rise of your stomach, the pouf of soft skin above your pussy, and the frayed edge of your underwear.

He continued undressing, watching the back of your hand rise and fall under your panties, his chest heaving with lust. Matt almost yanked his boxers away in his rush to feel your skin against his, and you saw his cock already leaking beads of desire. 

Your jaw went slack at the image before you, hand falling still as his cock overtook your mind. Pulsing veins carved rivers over his dick, rising to the lightly-tinted head, curving ever so slightly to the ceiling. His balls hung below, full and pale, the entire view covered in a soft smattering of dark, clean hair, trimmed and well-cared for.

“Awww…” Matt cooed, tilting his head deviously, talking down at you as if you were simply another dumb creature, slave to your pussy’s desires. “Can't even control yourself at the sight of cock, can you?” 

Your throat spasmed around a whimper. “That's okay, baby,” he said softly, letting his finger drift down the bridge of your nose to tap the end. “I’ll do all the thinking. You just lay there all pretty…such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

Matt stepped closer to you, his cock hanging just out of reach in front of your lips. In a desperate attempt to make contact, your tongue tried to fill the gap between, only able to flick his salty pre-cum away from his cock-head.

“Sweet girl wants her lollipop, huh,” Matt said, his smile condescending and his tone domineering. You could see on his face that he was drinking in every moment of this, loving the control he had over you, loving the control you’d given him, burning the image before him into his brain - the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, cock-drunk without even tasting it, rubbing her sweet little cunt as he spoke so degradingly, reducing her to a sopping wet mess with just his words. Your fingers moved furiously, pathetically over your clit, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

The soft light of his desk lamp cast deep shadows over his stomach and its dark happy trail of gently-curled hair. Matt’s lashes hung low over his irises, eyelids heavy with desire. His bottom lip stained red from how hard he’d bitten it earlier, puffy and soft…he looked like heaven and hell in living dichotomy. 

The world seemed to slow down. “Oh Matty…” you whispered.

Matt ripped his gaze from your slowed self-pleasure ritual to meet your eyes. “Yes ma'am.”

“...I’m…sorry.”

His brow furrowed. “For what, sweetheart?”

“This…it's a lot.” Your hands were now fully empty, preoccupied with nothing. 

“No, sweet girl,” Matt murmured, lifting his knee to the edge of the mattress, leaning over your body. “I…want this. I want you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes ma'am.” He stroked your cheek with a knuckle, and you leaned into his touch. “If you feel anything less than, fucking, I don't know, ecstasy, tell me, and I’ll stop. No matter what. I want you to feel safe, yeah?”

Nodding, you pointed at him. “You too.”

Matt chuckled softly. “Me too.”

You let your hands walk featherlight up the arms that encased you, arriving at his collarbone. “I don't think we're acting out that smut scene anymore…”

He blinked. “I forgot we were doing that.”

You began to lean away, reaching for the phone. “Well if you wanna go back to that-”

request to be on the taglist here

thank you for reading!

- bambi <3

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye’s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.

[iamthecomet]

comet ffkdjf lpleASE aether and mountain helping rain through his first heat and he's all shaky and wet plEASE can you elaborate

So I know you sent me this like more than six months ago, but I was thinking about it again and uhhhhhhh. 2.2k words based on this post about Rain's first heat topside. Wet boy Rain. Anal Fingering. Double Penetration. Heat stuff. Rain and the Big Boys. This one's got it ALL.

Rain’s pretty sure he’s dying. Between the fevered haze in his brain, and the ache in all of his muscles, and the incessant lurching of his lower belly he’s sure this is the end. Some awful sickness he caught from one of the humans that is going to end him. 

The moon tells him otherwise. Tugging on him like he is the tide. An ebb and flow of desire lit deep in his body, at the base of his aching spine. It can’t actually be his heat can it? In the pit they didn’t feel like this. There was a pleasant ache, an insistence. But maybe he’s closer to the moon here, or maybe earth is just different. No water ghouls to contend with. No fight for dominance. With survival needs off the table, Rain can really feel it. 

Can feel the way need thrums through his entire body. The pain of it. It's debilitating. It’s miserable. It’s wonderful. He feels like he’s been lit on fire from the inside, like he will burn if he doesn’t do something about it. 

He wakes up like this, shivery and hard and hot. He wants to stay curled into a ball in his bed. Wants to wish this away. He'd be lying if he said he didn't try. He isn’t sure what to do. Go ask for help? Embarrassing. Impossible.

 He rolls onto his back, uncurling aching muscles. Raising his arms over his head something in his spine popping solidly as he does. The relief of that is quickly overshadowed. As sleep bleeds out of him, everything else increases. He throbs against his boxers. 

He slips a hand down to touch himself, fingers slipping under the waistband and finding himself wet. The curls at the base of his cock already damp. Shaft slick with pre. He gives himself one stroke, two, and he’s gone. Toes curling, body bowing. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip to try to keep from crying out and fails. Gasping through it as he paints the inside of his boxers and his hands and stays hard. No relief to be found. 

“Fuck.” 

Need tugs at him, pulls him from his bed. He’s clear enough to know he isn’t thinking clearly, but not enough to care. He throws on a shirt, changes his boxers, pulls on some sweatpants. He’s hoping for the illusion of normalcy. 

It’s early, so he’s not surprised to find no relief at Cirrus or Cumulus’ doors. Dew’s is locked, and when he knocks and presses his ear to the wood all he hears is a grumble as Dew rolls over and ignores him. 

He has to reek of his heat, he knows it. But the sun isn’t even up yet. He stumbles blindly down the hall, toward the next set of doors. He doesn’t get there–he runs directly into Mountain instead. Stumbling face first into his chest, grappling for a hold as he teeters off balance. 

Mountain catches him, steadies him with hands on his biceps and Rain looks him at him. Dazed, hazy. Drunk already on the smell of evergreen and his own need. 

“Mount, you coming?” Aether calls from somewhere behind Rain, around the corner. 

Mountain looks down at Rain, the moment stretching as the scent of Rain’s heat hits and Mountain’s pupils dilate before Rain’s eyes. 

Mountain doesn’t answer Aether, instead his fingers tighten on Rain’s bicep. He inhales deep. 

“Oh, Rain–”

“Help me,” Rain whispers, pleads. Even the touch of Mountain’s hands on his arms is torture. Too much. Too sensitive. 

“Hey, Mount–oh.” 

Aether’s closer now. Rain can hear him, footsteps echoing through the hall. Feels him before he even really gets close. He smells ozone. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end like the moment just before a lightning strike. 

“He wants help,” Mountain says, finally raising his eyes from Rain’s face to look over his head at Aether. 

Aether’s hands slip onto Rain’s waist, finger squeezing, and then Aether’s crowding him against Mountain. His chest pressed right up against Rain’s back.  Head dipping down so the tip of his nose presses into Rain’s mused curls.  Aether inhales and Rain feels his stomach drop, his knees threaten to go with it, buckling and shaking. But he couldn’t fall even if he tried–not wedged between them like this. 

His cock kicks against Mountain’s hip. He knows Mountain feels it. 

“Please.”  Rain turns just in time to see the grin that splits Aether's face, sly, devious. Rain's stomach swoops. "How could we say no when you ask so nicely?"

⛧

Rain doesn’t remember the trip back to his room. Doesn’t remember Aether or Mountain stripping him, not really. He remembers hands, touch. Aether’s hands skimming up over his thighs. Mountain’s fingers curling around his throat, pulling him to lay against his chest, head tucked under Mountain’s jaw. His hips bracketed by Mountain’s knees. The hard line of Mountains’ cock against his spine. 

Everything snaps back into focus when Aether gets his mouth on him. Settled on his belly between Rains’s spread legs. Suckling the tip of his cock into his mouth. Tongue pressing down on the sensitive spot beneath the head.  Aether pulls off to trace the vein on the underside with his tongue and Rain bucks in Mountain’s grip. Keening. Desperate. 

“Is he wet?” Mountain asks, Rain feels the rumble of the words against his back. 

“Soaked,” Aether answers, pushing Rain’s legs further apart, spreading him wide and dipping lower to press his tongue against his clenching hole. Sucking on the rim until Rain thrashes. Desperate. 

He’d like to ask for something. To cum maybe, or just for more, but he can’t access that part of his brain. Not with Mountain’s fingers hovering over his pulse. His other hand tweeks at a dusky nipple and Rain can only feel. 

Aether presses his tongue into Rain, laps at him, firms up the muscle and really tastes him. Groaning as he does.

“Touch him, Aeth.” 

Rain half expects to be tortured. For them to drag this out, to make him beg for it, but Aether’s hand comes up without hesitation and wraps around his cock, wet with spit and pre. He pulls back, lips slick, and replaces his tongue with a finger. Pressing into the third knuckle and petting upward and Rain swears he goes blind. 

His orgasm lights him up, burns him alive. He paints his stomach, Aether’s hand. He throbs with it, feels relief for a matter of seconds, enough to take one deep breath of fresh morning air before clarity flees again. 

“God damn it,” Rain grits out, frustrated. Aether slips another finger inside, he spreads him open a little more. 

“You’re alright, Raincloud,” Mountain promises, kissing his temple, smoothing sweaty hair away from his face. “We have you.” 

“Fuck me,” Rain manages. “Someone. Both of you. I don’t care just–please.” 

“Be patient.” Aether chides. “Don’t want to hurt you.” 

Rain is beyond caring. Well past patience. He needs it. Needs to be full. Needs to feel nothing but the slide of a cock, needs to be split open. 

Aether sinks another finger in, three now, and Rain sags against Mountain. Turning his head to mouth at the earth ghouls collarbone as Aether works him open. It takes too long. But Rain can’t do much except lean into it, rock his hips against Aether’s hand. He tips his head up and Mountain kisses him. Possessive. All tongue and teeth and the taste of juniper. 

All Rain can think about is being filled. Knotted. Changed.  He wants to hear the wounded noise Aether makes when he pops his knot. Wants to cum on Mountain's cock. He needs it. He feels like he'll die without it. 

“Soon, Raincloud,” Mountain coos in his ear, resting a heavy hand over his pounding heart. Rain would be mortified for accidentally saying all of that out loud if he could think well enough. He feels the way his cheeks flush, hot like the rest of him. But the shame never actually comes. He’s too far gone, too desperate. 

Mountain shushes him, a sweet sound in his ear followed by the catch of teeth along the edge and only then does Rain realize he’s still talking. Babbling broken nonsense as Aether fingers him and Mountain rolls a painfully hard nipple between his fingers. 

Aether kisses the inside of his thigh, mouths at his balls. Rain isn’t sure he exists anymore. He is only these points of contact. Only the unbearable need to feel. He is only where he merges with Aether and Mountain. Nothing else. 

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” he whines as Aether slips another finger inside. Four now, crowded together, pressing deep. 

“Need to be patient if you’re gonna take us both, Rainy.” Aether mumbles, lips against Rain’s thigh. 

Clarity slices through him, if only for a second. Both of them. He goes rigid, tips his head back to look at Mountain, still holding him tight, something soft to land on as he falls over and over through waves of his heat. 

“Both?” he whispers. 

“Mmhmm,” Mountain hums. He bends down to capture Rain in another claiming kiss, a direct opposition to Mountain’s calm demeanor. 

Mountain pulls back but holds Rain’s face close, their horns nuzzled together. “Fastest way to break your heat.” 

Rain swallows, Aether crooks his fingers just so and Rain’s eyes roll up, flutter closed, he sags in Mountain’s hold. 

“Don’t you want it?” Aether asks. “Don’t you want us both?” 

Rain’s nodding before Aether’s even done speaking. Yes. Of course he does. Both of them. As soon as he thinks it, it all makes sense. Puzzle pieces clicking together. Of course that’s what he needs. Two knots. Right now. 

Aether pulls his fingers from Rain’s body. Rain opens his eyes just in time to see how shiny with slick they are, dripping with it. Aether reaches down between them and slicks his own cock up with the mess. 

Then Rain’s being moved, hauled up along Mountain’s body until he’s fully in his lap, legs splayed over his hips. Head bumping back against the headboard. Mountain hooks his chin over Rain’s shoulder and looks down as Aether presses his fingers back against Rain’s hole to gather more slick. Rain feels himself clench around nothing. 

“Pretty,” Aether muses, meeting Rain’s gaze as he takes it upon himself to slick Mountain’s cock too. Taking Mountain’s cock in a tight fist and stroking. Mountain hisses, he turns his head to mouth at Rain’s jaw, breath stuttering out over Rain’s oversensitive skin. 

Rain hears how wet it sounds, all because of him. 

“Gonna take us both, baby?” Mountain asks, breathless already and Rain nods fervently. 

It all happens fast after that–or maybe Rain is just too fucked up to process the steps. His heat addled brain can only think of one thing, and then all of a sudden, he’s getting it. Aether helping to lift him up as Mountain presses his cock against Rain’s hole. Rain doesn’t so much drop down on it as he is pushed. Aether and Mountain’s hands guiding him in a slow slide. 

Rain’s body lights up in relief. Finally. Finally. He’s full. Everything slotting into place. He rolls his hips and Mountain groans, guiding him in a slow easy grind that puts Mountain’s cock right where Rain needs it most. Rain could sob with it. Pleasure finally unspooling at the base of his spine in a way that feels real. 

And then, he’s being pushed back, laid back down on Mountain’s chest. Mountains arms curling around his waist to hold him there. And Aether’s pressing in too. The fat head of his cock popping in alongside Mountain’s. Leaning forward, bracketing Rain between his big forearms, their foreheads coming together as he presses deep. Folding Rain further in half, pushing his thighs further open with the bulk of his body. He snugs up between Mountain’s legs until he’s as deep as he can go. Both of them wedged inside of him until he’s full. Changed. Complete. 

They’re all still for a few breaths. Aether tilting his head to kiss Rain softly, tongue dragging over the seam of his lips until he can lick inside. Rain welcomes him, opens himself to all of this. Let’s Aether lick the whimpers from his mouth as he squirms and clenches around both of them. Desperate for friction. Body still screaming to be knotted, heat roaring up in him again the longer they stay stagnant. 

Then they both start to move in opposite directions, a counter rhythm and Rain’s brain goes silent for the first time in hours. 

Rain keens.  He tries to rock back on them, to meet them where they fuck into him quickly gaining speed as they find their rhythm. But Mountain stops him with a firm grip on his hips. Stilling him with ease that makes Rain’s stomach clench. Rain stops, sags, allows himself to melt into Mountain and Aether, into the easy glide of their cocks in and out of him. Rain whimpers, eyes rolling back, falling closed. 

“That’s it,”  Mountain says, voice tense. “Relax, Raincloud. We’ve got you.” 

“Lie back and take it,” Aether adds, affection coloring his words even as his thrusts turn toward rough. “Let us take care of you.” 

[the-gateway-to-madness]

It's been really interesting to see all the takes on the end of TOTK.

Some people seem perfectly happy with the ending as is. I'm one of them! I'm so happy that Link and Zelda finally get to look forward to a future where Ganondorf is gone and they can choose how they want to live. It makes me cry with the best of 'em.

A lot of people seem to be pretty happy with it but think Zelda should have kept some draconic traits. And I get that too, for a number of reasons! Everything from "trauma doesn't just vanish and there should have been something remaining" to "it would invalidate her sacrifice for them to just disappear" to "it would just look cool".

My personal take on it is, yeah, it'd be cool and it would add gravitas to her sacrifice- but look at the fanart! The Dragon Zelda plotline already has unbelievable gravitas as is. She spent millennia enduring mindless suffering she probably couldn't remember the source of or fully comprehend.

Zelda remembers sensations from her time as a dragon- the fact she was asleep, how it felt right before she woke up (like a warm, loving embrace ;-;). Some part of her memory is probably deeply rooted with that pain still.

So why, why, WHY would Sonia, Rauru, and Link- arguably the three people who love Zelda more closely and personally than anyone else across time and space, in this canon -leave her with dragon traits, if they have the power not to? Why would they make her remember millennia of pain every time she looks at her hands, or looks in the mirror? Are the marks on her soul not enough? Must she live in a body that would mar her happy ending and remind her of her eternal suffering for the rest of her life- for all of time? Would she have even remained mortal if some of the dragon had been left in her? Could she have had the life among her loved ones, the life helping Hyrule alongside Link, that she wanted?

And besides, if we (and by we I mean my undiagnosed-but-autistic-trait-littered brain) look at the game mechanic that turned her into a dragon- secret stone inside body = dragon. Secret stone not inside body = no dragon. If the recall rune removed the secret stone from inside her (she has it back at the end of the game and we ALL know Link took that thing up to the highest Sky Island he could reach so no mortal is ever freaking getting to it), there shouldn't be any dragon left. It wouldn't make sense to put Zelda through a bittersweet or half-victory in the end. It wouldn't have felt as clean and joyful, and wouldn't have been the payoff Link and Zelda have earned after all their work and fighting and sacrifice. Zelda has been given another chance to be what she always wanted to be: free.

I don't see a reason to pour more trauma on these kids- the ending wraps up the story very solidly as it stands, and so I don't personally subscribe to the "zelda should have had dragon traits" concept.

It does look cool tho.

[morganbritton132]

i don’t know if this would fit into your au or not but like imagine steve was stressed out with grading or something at school overwhelmed him and while eddie was live he asks to color in his tattoos to help his brain turn off or something idk

No, I actually really love this. It one hundred percent fits into this AU and I think it should fit into every AU because it’s adorable.

A lot has been going on lately.

It’s the understatement of the year. When Steve’s not dealing with his mother or with Eddie’s fans sending death threats than he’s dealing with his health and the frustration that lies there. If it’s not that than he’s dealing with the problems that all of this has caused in his relationship and if not that, it’s work.

Steve has fallen behind on his grading. They’re heading into standardized testing and then before you know it, finals week will be here, and Steve hasn’t even started adjusting his lesson plans to prepare his students, and it’s just. It’s a lot.

It’s getting to the point where it’s too much, and Steve’s chest is getting tight in the way that always alerts Ozzy. He’s so tense that when a hand lands solidly on his knee, he feels like he’s going to shatter. Eddie’s looking at him, keyboard sat in front of him, “You’ve been spacing out for like, ten minutes.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta be, everything okay?” He asks, going about his business with setting up – whatever it is he said he was going to do. Eddie knows that Steve doesn’t like being looked at when he’s overwhelmed, so he’s not looking. So, Steve must not be hiding it very well.

Steve says, “My head’s too loud.”

Eddie spares him a glance and Steve sees him smile as he turns his head back down to the keyboard. He presses on key as he asks, “Anything I can do to help?”

Eddie’s wearing short sleeves, one hand dancing across the keys in a melody as the other stays by his side. It doesn’t feel like Steve’s interrupting anything when he asks, “Can I color in your tattoos?”

“Sure!” Eddie grins, perking up like he was just waiting for that answer. “Get the markers, babe. Make me something pretty.”

Steve smiles too, feeling some of the anxiety ease away as he gets up to find their markers. He calls back over his shoulder, “You can’t get whatever I draw tattooed on you again!”

“No promises!”

[golvio]

As somebody who shaves in an “old-fashioned” way that’s come to be coded as “masculine” in recent decades, it’s got me thinking about about how Ganon was portrayed in TotK and how Nintendo could’ve used that to characterize him more coherently.

A lot of people tend to draw Ganondorf with body hair because bearishness is kind of the “in” thing for more masculine and solidly built characters. However, in his actual key art in TotK along with his ingame model, not only are his hair and beard meticulously trimmed and styled, but he also has absolutely no body hair anywhere else on his body, which means his grooming routine likely involves some pretty intensive shaving/waxing.

Like, shaving is EXTREMELY time-consuming. Shaving the old-school, “masculine” way with a safety razor or an outright barbershop razor blade is even more time-consuming. You have to wash the area clean first. You have to mix and keep mixing the lather to keep applying it to prevent the razor from getting caught on your skin and making microabrasions. You have to use the safety razor very slowly and carefully to make sure you don’t nick yourself, then seal any nicks that do happen immediately with a styptic pen. After you’re done, you still have to do extra steps to make sure your skin doesn’t get those red rashy bumps from microabrasions or trapped ingrown hairs that can get infected, such as putting on aloe gel, rubbing your skin with a wet alum block and rinsing it off after a few minutes so it doesn’t leave chalky residue behind, then applying moisturizer and waiting for it to absorb.

It points to Ganon having an extremely meticulous, regimented, and time-consuming grooming routine, having to give himself a full shave on his arms, legs, and chest every few days or so on top of daily maintenance of his facial hair. It makes sense to me, given that the Extremely Cleanshaven look to be covered up with cooling head coverings, wigs and false beards was something of a beauty standard among upper class men and their attendants in Ancient Egypt. Ganondorf’s desire to project a composed, “kingly” aura would of course extend to meeting certain standards regarding his own appearance. Being so “put together” is also a big blinking social signal that he’s A Man Of Status, as he’d actually have the time/money and resources/assistance to regularly perform such strict personal grooming rituals.

But it also makes me wonder how he’d regard men who were less meticulous about grooming and hair care. Would he find hairiness a sign of slovenliness or poor upbringing? Would he be kinda grossed out the first time he went to Hyrule and saw a hairy leg or back hair on an older man? Would he get snooty about the more lax standards of grooming for men in postindustrial Western patriarchal societies in amusing/less amusing and more classist ways?

It also makes his throwing away his sense of self at the end of TotK even sadder. Like, when a character who was formerly so concerned with appearing well-groomed and put together suddenly stops their routine and goes to seed, you know something’s gone horribly wrong. The poor guy’s stuck with an eternal neckbeard and messy, molting feathers, and that would’ve driven him nuts if he still had his brain! Who’s going to brush his hair and bathe him? Who’s going to trim his horns and keep his scales moisturized and polished so he doesn’t get all flaky and itchy? Who’s going to treat and cover up all those unsightly, sensitive looking blemishes? The poor thing! 😭

But, also, it makes certain details about his beast form more interesting in retrospect—how he puts more care into his appearance the more connected to his humanity he is. His at least wearing a cape and a suit of armor along with some accessories in ALttP, only to lose his clothing as he lost touch with himself. His resurrection in Oracles being his mother dressing him up in an outfit he would’ve worn if his soul and mind were intact by his mothers as a dying act of love. His wearing a similar outfit when Yuga resurrected him, only for that to feel like Yuga halfheartedly dressing him up like a doll as a matter of precedent/personal aesthetic, which Ganon has no way to appreciate or consent to.

His blobby, amorphous appearance in BotW, which he tried to move away from by attempting to restore his human form and reconstruct impressions of his old signature jewelry with so much time and effort, only for the result to come out shoddy and incomplete due to Zelda and Link’s interference, and then his abandoning it entirely to become a naked beast at the very end when he was backed into a corner. And then, in TotK, his preoccupation with “looking the part” of king of the world who got to defeat his destined opponent even though he could’ve just slaughtered Link right there when they first met.

Just…you could do something with that. There’s so much you could do with that, both to reinvent the man for the soft reboot and recontextualize his prior appearances with a new personal detail that can act as a barometer for his overall mental health as he changes, rearranges, dies and resurrects! But then they just…didn’t? They just said a line in an interview and didn’t even put it in the game? 🤦

[alice-after-dark]

StaticMoth Thoughts

So disclaimer that I am a "ship what you want to ship as long as you don't force it on others" kind of person. If you really like StaticMoth and think they are genuinely in love, you do you boo. You'll get no hate from me. However this is not that kind of post, so if that's not your cup of tea, I do suggest skipping. You have been warned.

TW for abusive relationships, sexual abuse, and other canon-typical triggers. Discussion of homophobia (Vox is from the 1950s after all)

So I'm going to get right to the point. I see a lot of people pointing to that one split second clip of them making out and saying they're in love...and I wholly disagree. I see their relationship as a purely sexual one, with some potential romantic manipulation from Valentino's side of things (because we all know Vox is insecure as fuck).

Vox grew up during a time period where liking both women and men and being openly sexual was not accepted and his demon life is his first real chance at exploring that side of himself. So he is very vulnerable to someone like Valentino who is the complete opposite and solidly comfortable with his sexuality and desires. Valentino is everything that Vox couldn't even fathom being. Fuck, even in Hell, Vox still strives to maintain a spotless image. The idea of not only being in a relationship with a man, but being able to actively pursue his desires is absolutely foreign to him and Valentino knows this. Which is exactly why he loves playing with Vox.

I do also want to make it clear that I think they are mutually abusive to each other. Vox is a control freak and tries to force Valentino into the box he needs him to fit in for the V's image. He refuses to engage in PDA and frankly doesn't even like to touch Valentino in public view if he doesn't have to. However, we also see that Vox can't just tell Valentino "no" and expect him to listen. He needs to placate him, satisfy him in some capacity, or Valentino will go off and do something stupid that will wreck their image. He is always placating the other demon. Valentino needs to be kept happy and sated, in whatever way necessary. And sometimes that means Vox getting...personally involved when he may not want to.

Now, telling Valentino "no" for most things can be pretty easily placated, but telling Valentino "no" when sex is involved? That can get downright dangerous. A horny Valentino is not so easily swayed in another direction. One thing about Valentino is that he's picky. Once he has his dirty mind set on someone, convincing him to redirect to someone else is nigh impossible. The who matters just as much as the what to him. So if Valentino comes to Vox with sex on the brain, "no" isn't really an option. Vox might be able to swing a "later," but even that is tricky and delicate and usually requires some kind of...compensation for the wait. And for Vox, who is used to the scummy darker side of the TV industry, well, this is just what you do to get ahead in the world.

(This is not to say that they don't ever have consensual sex, they absolutely do...that's just not always the case)

Do I think Valentino is the worst offender out of the two? Yes. Do I think Vox is a completely innocent victim who did nothing wrong? No. I think they are in a mutually toxic, abusive, and fascinating relationship.

[kangals]

Kep report card for month 6 (omg it has been a full HALF YEAR of keppy already)

I changed most of the categories since most of them were really more designed for tiny 2-month old puppy, so these are more relevant for adolescence. I don’t really expect other people to read them all, but it’s nice for me having a record to refer back to.

Leash Walking: 🟢/🟡 overall good, but definitely pulls on a harness unless he is tired or I am constantly checking him (not “yank my arm off” bad, but annoying). he doesn’t do so on a collar, so I might switch to that for a while.

Manners - People: 🟡 wants to jump up on everyone he sees and gets very overstimulated by New Friend Attention. he’s very social still, not sure how much he’ll grow out of that (Stellina did, but I don’t remember if she was quite this extroverted at this age)

Manners - Dogs: 🟢/🟡 friendly bordering on annoying, but he does take corrections well and will give space without getting offended, so that’s a green. I give him a partial yellow here because he likes other dogs so much that he gets annoying about it while on leash and has a hard time focusing on anything else.

Manners - Home: 🟢 he’s really good at home, he settles well and aside from very basic puppy mischief (jumping up on the counters, taking things to chew) I can generally leave him to his own devices without issue. and is now housetrained, thank god.

Manners - Public Spaces: 🟢/🟡 really likes going places but just gets overstimulated about it, so it’s a lot of pulling on the leash and not able to settle. just needs more exposure and time I think. did pee recently at Petco but there’s so much dog traffic there it’s hard to say why.

Grooming: 🟡 trying my patience lol. he does solidly “ok” for brushing and nails as long as he’s got a distraction, but gets increasingly wiggly when restrained so we need to work on that.

Recall: 🟡 yellow but I don’t expect anything better at this age lol. Good at home, other places his brain is often checked out elsewhere. He is noticeably more responsive to voice command/tone of voice than Stellina was, which is nice.

Crating: 🟢 no issues, crates up well and doesn’t throw tantrums anymore. Does occasionally still have issues settling but that’s more just sitting upright/pacing than panic, and it does eventually go, so I’m not too concerned. Have only tried leaving him free alone for 20 minutes and he did fine, so hopefully we can start working that up and phasing out daytime crating.

Fear/Anxiety: 🟢 honestly very chill. he has startled at a few objects recently (trailer hitch, and one particular morning glory flower that I guess gave him bad vibes idk) but it’s a very upright, hackles up “hey what’s that!” Response as opposed to true fear or shyness, and he recovers fast once he had a chance to check out the issue. balks at new stairs sometimes, but that’s really it.

Volume: 🟢 green by collie standards lol. he’s significantly less barky than Stellina was, and mostly just barks when he’s playing or someone else is talking to him. does bark at ppl walking past the yard which is annoying but not obsessively so.

Puberty: 🟢 he’s a big fan of marking instead of just emptying the whole bladder at once, but so far he’s still only doing it outside so I don’t really care. hasn’t tried to hump, does sometimes get too interested in other dogs pee, but so far he’s controlling himself so Ball Privileges remain intact (no pun intended).

overall I’d call him a 🟢 with a few 🟡 caveats, all pretty typical issues for an 8month old herding breed. certainly no red flags or things that have really got me concerned, he’s a very happy, stable dog which I’m always thankful for. if the housetraining ends up being his biggest issue I think we’ll have gotten off very easy! but we’ll see what else adolescence throws at us.

[skittlesfics]

name: and if we should see the stars...

pairing: Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader

word count: 2175

summary: Eddie shows you the stars

content/warnings: mutual pining, sexual tension, fingering, friends to lovers, Eddie calls reader princess and baby, reader has a vagina

author's note: SO I started writing this a week or two ago, and my entire plot bears some striking similarities to one scene from @upsidedownwithsteve's Camp AU Eddie fic that was posted yesterday. I honestly considered not posting at all because anons love drama where there is none, but honestly I worked really hard on this one and I'm happy with how it came out. Go read that fic right now if you haven't, it's absolutely stunning and gorgeous in every way and deserves all of your attention.

-

There was love, and then there was whatever this was: sitting in the back of Eddie’s van drinking shitty beers with the back doors wide open and the radio turned down low. It was something sweeter, something unspoken that you could keep wholly to yourself.

He was so casual with his touches, one arm thrown around your shoulder, leaning in close to try and match your perspective. The chain he wore around his wrist was cold against your neck, but you were running so hot with him this close that it was a balm against the burn of him.

“D’you see that one princess?” He was pointing, but your gaze didn’t make it past his hand. The pretty calloused fingers, the rings shining on his knuckles, the flaked polish on his nails where he’s chewed and picked at them since the last time you painted them for him.

“Mmhmm.” You lied anyway. Who could look at the stars when the sun was this close? He burned so bright, so bright, you didn’t know how to look away. You didn’t want to know how.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Orion’s belt.” He traced the stars like he could touch them. You thought they’d move for him, if he wanted them to. Eddie was special that way.

“Just his belt?” You were barely aware of what you were asking. You just wanted for him to keep talking in that excited timbre. He was so pretty when he got passionate about something.

“The rest of him is there too, if you look. It’s a little harder, but if you lean this way…” He trailed off, shifting to make room for you to see and then frowning when you didn’t manage to get quite where he wanted you. He huffed. “C’mere.”

That’s all the warning you got before he propped his beer against a threadbare blanket and hauled you between his legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. For Eddie, maybe it was. For you? You were already burning for him, and the press of his chest against your back set you ablaze.

If he noticed your pulse quicken as he slid on arm around your waist, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, he didn’t say anything.

“So those three are the belt.” He pointed to the same spot again. His voice reverberated through your body, that close, and it was unfair of him to expect you to do anything other than listen.

“The bright ones?” It was a strain, but you did your best to find them in the wide expanse of the sky. He was right to move you. It was easier to find them, even though your mind was hardly on the task.

“That’s it, princess. So, if you draw two lines down to that star and that star, that makes his legs.”

You tried and failed to visualize it. Instead, your brain stuttered and got stuck on how different it sounded when Eddie called you princess while you were sitting in between his legs, with the warm press of his thighs boxing you in, with his mouth right next to your ear. You had to shut down the thoughts that followed, particularly the ones that started with his hand that was still resting casually on your waist, two fingers just skimming the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“A-and the rest of him?” Your voice shook as Eddie’s hand on your waist shifted, his fingers brushing more solidly against your exposed skin, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

If he noticed what he was doing, he was playing it cool. Cooler than you, at least, as he gestured again with his free hand, tracing a few more stars that you could barely separate from the tapestry of the night sky.

“That’s his body. He doesn’t really have a head.” He explained it like your mind could be on the stars when he was tracing constellations into your skin, never one to be still. You wanted to protest, to tell him how unfair it was to expect you to learn when he was touching you; when he was so close that your whole world was leather and smoke and Impulse deodorant that shouldn’t smell good on him but did anyway.

You tried desperately to think of a question to keep the conversation. It needed to be something clever, that would turn the focus away from the way you press your thighs together for friction.  Eddie spoke first, however, his voice low and teasing in your ear.

“You’re not even listening, Princess.” He laughed, the sound so full and dark that it made you shiver. There’s no hiding that when he had you pulled against him bodily, his fingers dipping more brazenly into the waistband of your skirt.

“’s not true!” You protested, “I just can’t see them the way you can.”

Eddie couldn’t care less if you could make out the constellation or not. He was playing a game of chicken against himself, tracing the waistband of your skirt and then dipping one finger down, then two, drawing a loopy pattern that was barely straddling the line between casual and what he actually wanted.

Your breath was coming out shallow, and that bolstered him on. He found a sensitive spot on your hip and you hissed so pretty, leaning back into him. He pulled back, afraid he’d gone too far. There was a balance to this, to the way he had you squirming in his lap, eyes glassy and lips parted. Balance be damned, he wanted more. He dipped his thumb into your skirt, brushing that sensitive spot again.

“Eddie.” The way you breathed out his name went straight to his cock. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you like this forever. Hanging in the balance, flushed cheeks and clenched thighs, almost fucked out with barely a touch in the back of your friend’s van. He wanted this just for himself. Wanted you.

“Fuuuck, princess.” Is all he could manage for a moment. His pointing hand comes down to grab your hip, holding you still so you didn’t squirm too far back and end things before they’ve started.

There was an order these things were supposed to be done in. A conversation, a confession, maybe a kiss. You skipped all of these and took Eddie’s hand, pulling it down to the hemline of your skirt and letting it rest on your thigh.

He almost couldn’t believe you were real. Somewhere, he stopped thinking.

“Been thinking about these thighs all night.” He admitted, his lips back at your ear. You didn’t care what he was saying. You couldn’t care when his fingers were trailing up your thigh, taking their sweet fucking time. “So fucking cute with these thigh-highs, got me fantasizing about bending you over the back seat.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, rolling your hips into his touch when he finally brushed the soft cotton of your panties. It was the faintest touch: a test, a request, an acknowledgement. You needed more.

“Eddie, please.”

He fell quiet as he slid his hand into your panties, watching you with rapt attention like he was afraid you would change your mind. You almost found yourself embarrassed at the damp fabric until he was hissing in your ear, his middle finger sliding across your slick folds.

“Shit.” He buried his face in your neck again, rocking his hips against your ass, “So fucking wet for me, baby.” And that was a new one, baby, but you couldn’t unpack that when his fingers were exploring you, looking for what made you feel the best.

His bracelet was cold against your belly as he let his arm rest on your front, his fingers finding your clit. You were already keyed up from being so close for so long, it didn’t take much to turn you into putty in his hands. You were all heavy breathing and soft whimpers, half lidded eyes and parted lips.

Eddie thought he might be in heaven with the way you melted into his arms. He was careful with you, worried he would scare you away with the strength of his desire, and so he made this about you. Your body was soft and warm against his, and when he slid a single finger inside of you, he started to think he wasn’t going to make it.

You tossed your head back against his shoulder, his name falling from your lips in a tone he never could have made up in his fantasies. Eddie was talking, but he wasn’t even sure if the words had any meaning anymore. He could only think about the way you moan for him as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle on your clit as he tested what you liked.

“You moan so pretty for me, baby. Fuck. Wanna make you feel so good.”

The second finger was where you started to slip. His fingers made you feel so full, you couldn’t help but clench around them and the sensation had him moaning into your ear. He rutted into you shamelessly, the denim of his jeans rough through the thin fabric of your skirt. Your toes curled as you started to feel the coil of tension building in your core and you reached out to grab a blanket, his knee, anything to keep you grounded as you felt your control slackening.

“Fuck, Eds, so close, I’m- fuck.” The litany of curses that fell from your lips were like music to Eddie. He peppered kisses to your neck as you rocked on his fingers. Your world narrowed to several points; There was just you and Eddie, his fingers buried in your cunt, curling to find your g-spot, his cock hard against your ass, his lips on your neck, his voice in your ear making your head spin with sweet nonsense, and then you were falling apart. Your body curled in on itself as you clenched around Eddie’s fingers, your hands wrapping around his wrist to slow the onslaught of sensation as he rocked you through it.

When he pulled his hand away, you were breathless and flushed, so pretty with the exertion of your orgasm. Eddie knows that he is well and truly fucked. There was no coming back from this, and if there was, Eddie knew he wouldn’t want to. Not when he knew the way you keened when his fingers found just the right pressure on your clit, not when he knew how wet and hot and tight you would feel, not when you were looking at him like he hung the moon.

“Was that okay?” He checked on you immediately, shifting you in his lap for a better look at your face. You laughed at his worry, still high from pleasure and sensation and him. When you reached up to cup his face, he leaned desperately into the touch, eyes closing instinctively. He was warm and so close and so pretty.

“More than okay, Eds. That was… Fuck. That was so good. Can I--? Do you need--?” You trailed off, embarrassed as Eddie opened his eyes, his gaze dark and intense. He watched you for a moment, calculating, and then he kissed you. Someone needed to set this right, after all, and it was clear it wouldn’t be you.

His lips were as soft as you always imagined they would be. The kiss was sweet, but too short. It was a question, a declaration, and an indulgence all at once. He pulled away to look at you, and then he was leaning in again, gathering you up in both arms so that he could kiss you breathless.

“’m okay, princess.” He said finally, when he thought he was done kissing you. You pouted, though, and then he was kissing you again, peppering them across your face like he’d wanted to do for months.

You curled into his chest, wrinkling your nose when he wiped his hand on the blanket on the floor of his van.

“Maybe, uh… Maybe we can do this again? In a real bed. After, uh, a real date?” Eddie was shy, suddenly, unsure despite the evidence of your affection still sticky on his fingers and his blanket. You would have laughed if your heart didn’t swell so suddenly with affection that you thought you might cry.

“You’re telling me this wasn’t a date, Munson?” You teased, reaching up to kiss him again, just because you could. He went willingly, smiling against your lips. “Got all pretty for you and everything.”

“A second date, then.” Eddie corrected.

“A second date.” You agreed.

He held you as the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. His eyes were on you, your eyes were on the stars. And maybe it was love after all, something you could share, just the two of you.

You couldn’t find Orion on your own, so you just found your own patterns in the sky.