#lame!!! cough cough boring!!

[moondirti]

every year i tune into the met gala and every year im disappointed. these celebrities need interpreters to relay what the themes mean

[smulnsander]

They way dating apps take try to advantage of pepole with not granting what should be basic features and instead trying to make ppl pay 20$ so you can scroll back to somone you acidentaly swiped away from is so fucking sucks

[sincerelybubbles]

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[cosmic-waves7]

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Note: I tried Smth new w howl, pls pls lmk if u like it cuz I was half asleep as I typed this out (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

He's jealous.

It was only a quick pitt stop at the Wizard Pendragon's shop (one of Howl's many aliases) that set it all off.

A calm morning for the Pendragon's moving household was set to start and the shop needed a bit of upkeep as customers were running dry. So with the creaky floorboards all swept up and Calcifer warned to not misbehave, the clock-like magical device that hung next to the door signalled with a resounding ding and a switch in colour indicating where the castle had teleported to.

There was a long day ahead but you couldn't be more pleased.

As the hours went on Howl worked in rhythm with you as tinkering laughter was heard throughout the shop and bubbling mixtures were stirred harmoniously in cauldrons. There was a calm air to your love as he flitted around you with hands briefly coming to couch and maybe even teasingly squeeze at your hips as he passed.

"Pass me the dandelion leaves ?", He asked while focusing on the lilac fluid seeping from the side of the potion bottle he was pouring into.

You nodded with a kiss atop his freshly midnight-dyed hair - courtesy of sweet Sophie, you know she didn't mean it but you couldn't thank her more for the darkened charcoal colour that had seeped into his golden locks- and off to the ingredients section you went muttering past bottles of all sorts.

Coming back empty handed with no dandelion leaves in sight you let your eyes wander to his sprawled out form in the chair by the fire, Howl only looked up and smiled a bit disappointedly before getting to his feet and tugging on his boots.

You could already see long black feathers creeping out his cloak, predicting his speedy mode of transport for the errand.

"I'll be back in a moment sweetheart, not to worry. Markle will take care of everything."

Knowing full well the small child would've dosed off by now as he'd left to play in the fields while you both worked, you were left to manage the quaint store while Howl flew out for after a dizzying kiss goodbye and mumbles of bringing you wildflowers to carefully twist into your hair.

Then and only then did a customer decide to come in.

He was a polite young man, easily flustered and a soldier of the royal palace you noted due to the bluish uniform donning his slightly hunched physique.

He was nervous.

You grinned trying to ignore his demeanour so that maybe the pink in his cheeks would lessen.

"Ma'am, the queen has requested for a simple sleep draught from the makings of your shop.", He coughed, "please." came soon quickly after he'd recollected himself and pulling at the yellowed buttons holding his vest together.

You hid your smile behind the worn glove that your sweet partner had embroidered a pathetic attempt of a small daisy onto which you very much cherished, it felt like you were talking to a mouse rather than a fully grown man.

"Why of course."

The man...boy even, settled into a lone seat to watch you set up, eventually gaining courage to invite you into bubbly conversation that you found very boring very fast hence weren't all too interested in so short sugared-up answers were all he received.

The 'banter' he thought he was receiving on your end was honestly faked curiousity.

It seemed he was quite dim. Too dim for your liking.

His puny attempts to indirectly flirt were unoriginal and simply unwelcome.

Just as you were starting up your potion with another lame probe on the topic of the weather about to leave the man's mouth, your beloved hurriedly came in. Cheerily he was chattering on about a bird he'd been able to fly up close to in in his bird-like form.

"Oh, you should have seen it's-", Howl interrupted himself to stare at the man sat atop the brass stool across your apothecary tabletop, "feathers?"

His demeanor immediately switched.

Gone was the gentle, patient magician you were so accustomed to. There stood an intimidating wizard and he oddly felt much taller, much more powerful than a split second ago.

This was the Howl Pendragon you'd only ever heard about through word of mouth, not the one that childishly insisted to cuddle up on your ill-fitted couch or cast silly spells to jokingly make your hair stick up in different directions.

No. This was a whole different feel of a person and it seemed like the magic was almost spilling out of him in waves, you could almost taste it's electric crackling force in the air.

He felt more confident, cocky, ready to rip into this poor man down to his basic self-worth.

You liked it.

His lips twitched.

"Darling, who is this?"

Howl's voice was always deep and smooth as silk, just as it was right now, yet you were no fool and could pick up on the the roughened edges of his tone.

But it seemed like the young soldier took no notice of the emotional state of the suddenly very upset wizard in his presence. He only turning around to bow deeply in respect while stuttering out a greeting and an explanation of his presence.

Howl only had a curt nod to give as a reply and you could tell he wasn't very ecstatic have a new face in here.

If he could roll his eyes at the 'competition', they'd roll all the way to the back of his head to see his brain.

The next few minutes were tense as he only grinned tightly and came to your side to place a very domineering palm on your corseted waist pulling you in closer to his warm body, sending a clear message.

"I'm sure you've got this one little potion down love?", He said with his eyes sharply glancing to the young man that had very clearly receded back into his shell at this point.

Howl didn't even need to say a word, didn't even need to properly look at the guard for him to metaphorically back away. But of course he had to ensure he got his point across, so what else could he do but dip down to deeply kiss your lips, he was only seconds away from basically pushing his tounge into your mouth if you didn't stop his dramatic live-performance.

Nodding satisfied with himself, you huffed whispering 'show off' while he stepped back to tend to his dandelion-leaf-less potion.

You couldn't even look up at the barstool your customer sat on anymore with the intense blush covering your face and you could only imagine the agony of embarrassment he was going through.

With the potion sealed up and a-way-over-the-actual-price bag of coins thrown at the counter, he promptly escaped out the door not even bothering to check for any change.

Shrugging you turned back to glare at Howl who was innocently blinking into space.

"Was the last part really necessary."

He slowly smirked, tendrils of his magic swirling past your shoulders.

"Whatever do you mean?"

You quickly found yourself within his grasp, pressing kisses to your knuckles as an apology.

You knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Loud laughter could be heard from a distance as Calcifer moved the castle along to wherever your hearts desired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[hazashiovo]

imagine sparring with Korra and ended up with a heated makeout session

I can see it, like angry sparing which turns into heated kisses😶

Korra x Reader

Warnings: suggestive towards the end, fighting, making out, pouring out your feelings.

Maybe pushing Korra's buttons all day long wasn't such a good idea,and what brings you to this conclusion? Well maybe her pissed off face as she enters the training ring.

But it's not your fault! You were just bored,and what other entertainment was better than annoying the girl you hate? (Are deeply in love with but deny it) Yes,maybe you'd get a kick out of seeing her face red with anger,it's funny really!

Not to her it isn't, ever since this morning you were on to your mission to make her day insufferable,and imagine how happy she was when you proposed sparing with her,oh yes. How happy she was to blow off some steam , caused by no one else but you.

Korra knew, she knew you only wanted to piss her off further,but maybe you should've thought that she's the avatar,able to use all four elements,while you can only bend one element. This is going to be entertaining.

"Gonna keep staring at me like you wanna eat me up or you're gonna actually fight me?" Oh that smirk,that stupid smirk plastered on your face , matching with your raised eyebrow,she just wants to rip it off your face and throw it on the ground and stomp-

"Bring it on." Her stance changes, ready to attack. Fists clenched tightly urging to get you on your ass. She smirks only thinking about it.

You smile , running towards her with hot fiery fists,one punch, she dodges, taking advantage of her exposed position you trip her,a grin taking over your face.

"What's wrong Korra? Can't handle little old me?" You chuckle at her furious expression.

The brunette groans, bending herself of the ground using earth. Silently cursing you for taking her down in the first place. Oh you wanna see what she can do? She'll show you what she's can really do.

Hit with a sudden surge of adrenaline,Korra sends your way multiple earth spikes, almost loosing your balance you bend yourself a fire wave , sending it her way.

Korra scoffs, dodging the wave with an air ball. You roll your eyes, can this girl be any more frustrating? That's one of your best moves!

"That's so weak! Lame." The girl mocks, smirking down at you,a feeling of satisfaction taking over her frustration.

You roll your eyes, she's the lame one ,not you! "You wanna see power privileged girl? I'll show you power."

The avatar watches as fire starts surrounding you, slowly taking the shape of a huge snake.

How the fuck are you able to do that?! Is she capable of doing this to? She must admit ,even if she despises you,it's pretty fucking cool. Maybe one day you could teach her that.

During the time she spaced out staring at your fire creation, your snake lunged at her fast. Surrounding her with hot red fire.

Korra furrows her brows annoyed, resulting to water bending. She could hear you chuckling in the back round as she tries to fight off the huge fire monster.

Once she figured out she has to get away from the beast she uses earth bending, creating a small tunnel to pass your snake.

"You like my power now, Avatar?" Her eyes land on your amused face. With one swift move she runs towards you, using earth bending to give her a boost, and with her iced fists she punches you, in the stomach making you stumble to the ground. Your snake of fire disappearing in the clear air.

So in order for you to lose control of the created beast,you must take physical damage? Noted.

What really didn't help your case was your physical health. Unfortunately for you, you were weaker in hand to hand combat. It's mostly why your fire bending is so much stronger then Korra's.

You start coughing up, holding your stomach in pain. "No fair," you mutter through coughs, Korra towers over you, her anger eyes taking in your fallen form.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so cocky." Her hands hang loosely on her hips,a victorious glint in her eyes.

Once you finally regain your breath you're able to stand on your feet. Glaring at her trough your furrowed brows.

"You're the one to speak." You scoff, she's the one acting like a bitch...damn your stomach hurts.

"Admit that I'm better than you already! It's the least you can do after I kicked your dumb ass!" You grit your teeth at her totally untrue words.

You take a deep breath in, turning your upper body to attack Korra again, after all you're not one to give up that easy.

One strong kick with your fire laced leg sends Korra flying into a wall. While trying to recover from your strong attack ,you stroll towards her. Your stomach no longer hurting as it did before.

"Look at you," your hands land on each side of her head, caging her in. "The all mighty avatar at my mercy." She can't help but stare,a proud smirk stuck to your face like a medal. How could you of everyone beat her?

The dark haired girl grits her teeth in anger, yet one taught hangs around her mind, why are you so eager to prove her wrong?

"What's it to you? Don't forget I'm stronger than you'll ever be." Now she's the one holding the smirk, Korra tried raising her hands,but you're quick to stick both of them to the wall.

"What's it to me? Everything!" You huff out at her obliviousness. One eyebrow raised,she waits for you to continue your blabbing. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Everything fell to your feet ever since you were a child! And me? I had to work for it. But no matter how long I trained or how strong I became,I was never truly acknowledged,but you? Their precious little avatar?" Korra huffs annoyed, taking a hold of your hands and swiftly switches your positions, making you the trapped one now.

She inches closer to your face,"I had to work for everything! I had to prove that I am the avatar, nothing came to me for free,so stop assuming I'm some stuck up princess!"

Her words make you scoff. What did she ever have to fight for? She could master all the elements as a kid, Korra never had to worry about being enough,you did. People called you weak ,you allways had to prove yourself to the world,that's why you became a pro bender in the arena. This way they could finally see,that you're enough.

"You? Funny you're the one that cries about having to work,but I'm the one who was judged for not being strong enough! You have no idea how hard the weight placed on my shoulders was."

You squirm under her, trying to break free,but Korra doesn't budge. You try kicking her with your leg, yet your efforts are shut down by her knee that's now placed between your legs, holding you down in place.

"Why are you so damn stubborn?" Korra grits her teeth,your faces mere inches apart, the arguing leading nowhere,just back and forth bickering.

"You're so annoying!" You groan out, resisting the urge to head but her. Korra's face looks like she's about to blow up,smoke practically coming out of her ears.

Korra pushes you further into the wall, drawing a gasp out of you. "Can't you shut up already? You're so insufferable!"

You raise a brow,a new idea popping in your mind. "Oh yeah? Why don't you make me? Bet you can't." She watches as your expression fills with mischief,a different look shining in your (e/c) eyes.

Korra stands in front of you, thinking of what to say now,you practically put her in a corner. Ironic since you're the one backed up.

"Nothing to say n-" before you could finish your sentence shock creeps into you, the feeling of her soft lips forcefully attached to yours silence the snarky remark that was about to be said.

She pushes in,hear leg rising up as a warning once you try closing your thighs.

Her hands tighten around your caged wrists, you push your chest in hers making her whine groan in your mouth.

The kiss is hungry and lustful,yet there's no denying that passion burns as hot as your fire.

Starting to feel light headed,you pull your head away from Korra's. Taking rapid breaths to chase away the light headiness.

"I wasn't expecting you to shut me up like that." You tilt your head away from her burning gaze. Cheeks pinkish and warm.

If she's honest, Korra doesn't really know what took over her,but she knew this was something she was hungry for,deep inside. Is this the reason why her glares would be directed to people getting overly friendly with you, lingering touches on your shoulder or waist. But never did she really get to grasp the reason why.

Korra releases your hands, instinctively your hands rub against one another, already feeling the future bruises.

"It worked, didn't it?" Korra raises a brow to match with her smirk.

You roll your eyes, mustering up a snarky answer to get back at her,that thought fades once she closes the distance between the two of you again,this time her hand wrapping on your neck,one finger holding your jaw in place, her other hand wrapped around your waist.

Your lips move in sink,both of you fighting,yet again, for control. Your tongues rubbing against each other while the kiss becomes more lustful and needy.

Your hands find themselves entangled in Korra's hair,then moving lower towards the back of her neck, pulling her in even more than before. Craving her touch.

You moan when her tigh rubs against you middle, of course she knows what she's doing. Korra takes that split of a moment to gain full control, dominating the kiss shared between you two.

Maybe ,just maybe the two of you don't despise each other as much as you claim.

.

.

This was such a fun thing to write! Come at me with more requests of the sort :)

[milkteabinniechan]

｡⁠*⁠♡.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡Desperate - Han Jisung

pairing: Han Jisung x afab reader , enemies to lovers

warnings: smoking, unprotected sex, angst, smut

ko-fi if you like what I do 💕 comments and reblogs are always appreciated

"what are you doing here?"

Han's expression was bored and impatient. He asked you a question, but he was looking around the room like he could not care less what your answer was.

Your parents had been neighbors and close friends with Han's parents since the two of you were small. And because of this you two were forced to become close friends as well. Only you didn't like him and he didn't like you. It had always been that way.

Now you were both graduating college. Albeit your university was slightly more prestigious than his, and he knew it. And although you would never admit it, it brought you the smallest incline of joy whenever you one-uped him at something. The party tonight was for Han, though. His parents had put all of this together, with all of their friends and colleagues, to brag about their latest accomplishment: Han Jisung.

You watched as Han's eyes scanned the crowded room. You didn't recognize anyone here, and you had a feeling it was the same for him. You wanted to ask him if he was okay. But your brain could already predict the snyde remark that would follow. Instead you said,

"This is lame. You want to get out of here?"

Han looked at you, his brow furrowed. His mouth agape.

"I can't just leave my own party, genius." He rolled his eyes and huffed. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you. growing up together, you knew each other's houses like the back of your hand. You made a b-line through the crowd toward the stairs.

Han must've understood your plan because he pushed his way ahead and lead you to his room. Warm evening light bathed the white walls and fresh linen draped the bed. Han was clean. He was organized. When you were children, you used to tease him about never being able to make a mess.

Han sighed and pressed his back against the closed door. He hung his head low in exhaustion. You made yourself comfortable on his bed, leisurely resting back on your elbows, letting your head fall back towards the ceiling. Silence dangled in the air between you for a moment. Finally you raised your head up.

"I got you a graduation present, loser." You said with a smirk. The insult now becoming a playful nickname. Han lifted himself from the door frame. His curiosity peaked. He sauntered to the bed next to you, plopping down obnoxiously, making you bounce in response.

"Well...?" Han lingered toward you. You reach in your purse and pull out a joint. Slightly bent. You were starting to second guess your storage methods. You turn and face Han, joint on display between your thumb and first finger.

You had smoked with Han before. Mostly to get back at your parents. The both of you being forced to "hang out" while they drink and mingled downstairs. The two of you barely coughed anymore. It was a time the two of you could float somewhere else, just for a little while.

You let your eyes roll back, your back sinking into the mattress. Your skin kissing the perfectly soft fabric of his bed sheets. Han fell next to you, the two of you staring at the off-white ceiling.

"You smell good." Han spoke in a low voice.

"I smell like weed." You snapped back.

"Sorry, forget it..." Han's voice began to trail off.

You rolled over to face him. His eyes were glossy, his pupils dilated. So large and dark. Like if you looked long enough, you could see the whole universe in those eyes. You moved close to his face. Han's eyes were watching your mouth. You craned your neck back and pressed your lips into his. Something got filled your insides, touched your core.

His lips were so soft. So soft. You let your tongue snake into his mouth and pry it open wider. He let out a small whimper as he placed a hand on the nape of your neck. You grabbed at his shirt, willing him to set down on top of you. He followed suit and quickly made his way on top, his hips already grinding and rutting into you.

You let him grind as you began to unbuckle his belt unbutton his slacks. He was already so hard. The thought of his so desperate to touch you was making you throb. You placed both your hands on his backside as you push his hips further into you.

"Please..." He whispers into your neck. You grab one of his hands and lead him down your body to your panties, dampening by the second. Han groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt slipping between his fingers. You bite your lip, remembering the large party downstairs. Groups of your parents friends, while you let your childhood friend stretch your hole.

Han slipped inside you slowly. His tip lingering at your entrance, holding his cock there with one hand, while he watched your face. A moment of hesitation, maybe. He had never admitted it, but you knew him better than anyone. What if he went too far? What if he came undone? What if he couldn't be out back together again?

Your cunt swallowed his tip and pulled him in. Your warm, tight walls hugging his cock fully and completely. His thrusts were wild and yearning. You held his face in your head while he pushed and pressed himself into you. The bed began to squeak and creak as you hooks your legs around his waist.

Han lovingly rubbed his thumb against your swollen clit. The bundle of nerves full and prodding out, begging for attention, pleading for release. The sloshing of your cunt was making a mess in Han's bed sheets. He watched as you dropped and splashed onto his white, clean linen.

"I guess you can make a mess." You smirked.

[papil0nglegs]

Hello hello helloooo. Saw you wanted tf2 request! So herr comes something.

What about the mercs with a gnSO who has a puppy crush on them? I think that would be really cute. Eould really want spy in there but pick whoever you want :))

Tf2 x Puppy love!Reader

warning: suggestive, manipulation, situationship?, knife-play

A/n: you can tell I had no idea what to put for the images LOL!! Anyways I’m finally going to write tf2 cuz I can, uhm idk what other mercs to put so I just put 3 ;-; I might make a pt 2 with the rest depending on how this does soooo

Spy

He catches on so quickly

He doesn’t do anything about it of course, cmon it’s spy

He’s an observer, so spy is just waiting for you to do something

You getting shy around him is just so amusing to him, he can’t help but let your little situation continue

“ahem, Hey spy! Ggreat-good-youspy-you did good on the battlefield today 🙂”

Oh my god someone kill you please

“..uh huh”

UGHH, the pain you felt after that

You screamed in your pillow for hours

His amusement later turned into toying with you, he got kinda bored from you just asking him lame questions and trying to start conversations

He’d offer you his cigarette after a stressful day of fighting, if you accept you’d be a coughing mess because of how nervous you were around him

‘omg does this mean he likes me? No spy doesn’t like anyone,, is it a blue spy? Why is he acting so weird?? Is he about to ask me for something?’

You’d just be taking the cancer stick while staring at the floor, thoughts flooding your mind.

Meanwhile spy was simply eyeing you, watching as you became a silent nervous wreck

After that interaction he’d notice you making it more obvious that you liked him.

Whenever he gave his little speeches you’d stare at him with puppy eyes, not hearing a single word he said

He knew that he could get you to do anything for him at that moment

Sometimes it’d get you in or out of trouble

Once he called you over to him just for you to get shot by a sniper so that he could use you as a distraction

You weren’t mad cuz you were deep in it at that point

Oh boy were you all over that man, you just kept having this mentality that you’d eventually have him at the end of the day

like whenever he’s pissed at the mercs after another failed mission he avoids you for the most part

It’s better than having him pissed at you, otherwise you’d feel like you really fucked up

If anything your relationship would become more sensual, I see him finding the whole ‘puppy love’ thing more cute than turning it into a whole relationship

He’d randomly have whole make out sessions to fuck with you, sometimes even bringing his butterfly knife into the mix

He’d call you his ‘Jolie’ and ‘beau’, names that none of the other mercs would find sus because god forbid some of them can’t even read

He was your poison, and you were his plaything

Scout

Stop

He has a puppy crush on you too ☹️

We’ve all seen the expiration date short, he has no idea how to deal with it

And lord knows he’s going to spy, again

Imagine how he interacted with Ms Pauling on the little computer thing except you’re acting like that too

yeah, a mess

“Wassup”

“Hi!!”

“Oh no you first-“

“What? No you went up to me so pshh“

“Nono it’s okay I went to bother you-“

“Pfft didn’t bother me what! It’s fine you go first”

Jesus.

Sometimes you’d do that thing where you stare at him, then he glances at you making you two immediately look away from each other in embarrassment

Pls don’t let him know you have a crush on him, it’ll raise his ego like no other

Spy would straight up let him know, I mean it was pretty obvious

“oh… oh”

Oh no!! He’s going to do cringey shit now :((

During a ‘meeting’, his adidas met your shoes

When you looked over at him he was just snickering at you like some school boy, biting his lip

Holy fuck were you flustered, he thought he had you wrapped around his finger but if anything he was wrapped around yours just as much as you were

You flashed your lashes at him, wrapping your ankle around his, making the situation a mutual thing

He’d try to impress you so much on the battlefield

Whenever he saw a fight you were clearly winning, he’d still run in to “save” you

“Yup, I just did that.”

Was it corny? Sure, but you still admired him

“Fffuck scout, you’re so cool..”

Even when you guys aren’t fighting he’d still try to impress you

“Hey y/n!! This one’s for you!!”

He’d throw a blu spy’s head in the air (that he totally ‘borrowed’ from medic) and completely miss with his bat

He reached your limit at that point, everything about that moment was just so him

“HOLY FUCK THAT WAS DOGSHIT!! I NEED YOU INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NOW”

You screamed with heart eyes, the whole base probably heard you

“OH OKAY?? BET”

You guys slobbered all over each other’s faces as you made your way to his bedroom

Spy didn’t know if he should feel proud or disappointed, either way he was sorta happy scout found love here

Medic

This man could breath around you and you’d be impressed

You idolize him sm

You really shouldn’t, but you do!!

You’d watch him while he does his surgery’s, he’d call you his ‘assistant’ since you (obv) assist him

But sometimes you daydream into him too much, and when he asks for assistance..

“Towel forceps..”

“👁️👁️”

“….towel forceps?”

“You’re so smart..”

“vat??”

You simply kept admiring him, he just looked back at his hands that were digging into his patients insides, then back at you in utter confusion

When you tell scout about your little crush he gets excited about it until you tell him who it is

“Toots, tell me who it is.”

“Medic 💕”

“😐”

LMAO he hates you so much for that

If medic pockets you you’d get so flustered

Like “oh 🤭 little ol’ me?😚😚”

It gives you so much motivation when he Ubers you, if you fail then your done for!! You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him!! :(

Once he feels the same way about you he makes it obvious in.. his way??

“Maus!! I’ve gotten you a gift ☺️”

“gasp omg what’d you get me??”

“a bird heart specimen”

“wow..!”

I mean it’s a gift?

He’d be the one to confess first because Yk medic, he’s not one to shy away from his feelings

He’d confess by putting a small present on your bed, once you opened it you found a yellow rose with red tips, and a letter written in cursive (done by spy)

“It hurts me everyday, to see you. So elegant, so sweet, I yearn to be with you, to hear every heart beat.

I pray that I’ll never live the pain, that I’ll stay in solitary, alone in my grave.

So while our blood flows, and while our hearts beat. Just know our lives are short, will you spend yours with me?”

You squealed so much, screaming into your mattress and kicking your feet

Once you saw him again, you immediately went in for a kiss

How could you hold back after such a sweet letter?

[aachria]

Wait so is Ed from 2023?? Like did they come here when the fic first came out or are they just from the vaguely undisclosed present?

For instance, if Ed had just beat ts out of someone and they went “this is gonna ruin the tour” before coughing up a lung and dying, would Ed understand the reference or js think they were having a mental break?

I need to know lest my neurodivergent ass fries it’s last braincell thinking about it.

Ed is in fact canonically from April 2023 when the fic was posted.

Let me be so for real with you though that was a YEAR AGO and I Cannot for the life of me remember what stupid internet shit I was saying at the time or what was a meme when so I really do just be out here referencing shit that Ed absolutely has no idea about. Like that little shit has never heard of the Glasgow Willy Wonka experience. Ed has never bore witness to the Josh Hutcherson whistle edit. ED DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED GOJO. Do you honestly belive I was going around calling people babygirl and pookie and saying shit like slay Queen pussy boss when I started writing this???? No. But I put it in the fic anyways because it’s FUCKING FUNNY.

So anyway I would absolutely do that. Like are you kidding me you don’t think post timeskip the crew will be running from the Marines and Ed will just be clinging to Brook screaming “THIS WILL RUIN THE TOUR!!!! THE WORLD TOUR!!!!!!!!!!!” like a manic? Of course they will.

Time isn’t real and I live by the rule of cool. If it makes me laugh my ass off, I’m not letting something as lame as the continuity of the timeline get in my way.

[sailorgundam308]

Random ppl saying Karlach is “conventionally” attractive must live in an alternative reality I’m unaware of.

Is she stunning? Yes. But she does NOT fit into conventionally beauty standards for women (yes, even after her face change from EA).

Say you see a woman of color, way WAY taller than the average - let’s say 1.90m tall. She is visibly bulkier, has thick thighs, prominent abs. Wider shoulders than average.

Then, her skin (which again, isn’t white), is covered in marks. Scars, tattoos, discolorations and other “uneven” tones and textures.

On top of that, her entire right side is covered in ‘hideous’ burnt skin tissue. From her fingers to her ribs and half her chest.

But not all. She has metal pins and bits protruding from her due to some medical procedure you’re not familiar with.

And she might have facial scars too. On her very non-white facial features. Imagine she’s not only Asian - but the “wrong” kind of Asian (aka the darker side of Asia- not the mainstream-approved Japan or Korea). Maybe she’s even from the South Pacific islands.

Her hair is thicker, choppier.

And, beyond her appearance, she curses. She laughs loudly. She doesn’t act demure or quiet or feminine. She’s unapologetic about it, too. Proud of being physically stronger than most.

What an affront.

That is all to say… yes, she is stunning (to me and many of us). She’s especially more stunning BECAUSE she’s so off the scale of conventional beauty for women. You might have lived in a beautiful social bubble where women like Karlach are considered the prettiest there are, but even so, that’s not what the world at large sees as ideal beauty - for any gender, but more so for women.

That’s one of the big reasons I’m so into Karlach (and also why I have always had a soft spot for laezel too). They stick out like a sore thumb but they dgaf.

And to top it all, it’s one extra reason for me to ship the shit out of her and Astarion.

Astarion isn’t the conventional male handsomness but he does fall in a wider category of male beauty. He is the most popular male character and attracts both male and female fans.

I like him to fall for characters that would be considered way off the mainstream beauty scale. One thing I haven’t seen yet and want to do one day is make a half orc character to pair with him. Because fuck yes. And also because for me, Astarion does understand where beauty standards lay, but that lost meaning to him long ago. He’s capable of being petty and shallow but when push comes to shove, that’s not it for him.

Again, another reason as to why I’d think he’d fall head over heels for Karlach despite himself.

But yea. Going back to my point, no matter that WE think Karlach is pretty, cute, beautiful and gorgeous. That’s us being ::cough:: superior. But it doesn’t make her mainstream digestible beauty material (that’s lame shadowheart lol - sorry guys, sh is so boring to me).

Which in turn makes Karlach even more precious to me (and her and Astarion in love even more special 🖤).

Thats all the rant, for now.

[doodle-do-wop]

Rayni (open discussion post)

as some of you may have heard/seen I am Rayni Aria's biggest goddamn hater

I can't stand her ass

I recently read/listened through Stellarlune for the first time and I hated her the moment I met her. Yes I know the ending of Legacy, I know how it all flows

But I Still can't stand her

Why? Because she is a literal blob of nothingness on the page

Spoilers for Stellarlune

Rayni Aria is a character who was once the Neverseen member Glimmer (dumbass name btw) who, allegedly was involved with none of the Neverseen's major plots so far; The Kidnapping of Sophie and Dex, their torture, jumping Sophie, Keefe, and Silveny in Exile, Mt Everest, the gnomes etc etc etc

Allegedly she's had zero part in any of that because they just stick her in a corner and even when Gisela was overthrown she still didn't do diddly squat, she just read medical books. Sure. Okay

Her life previous to joining terrorists willingly was she was just a normal girl with a normal life until people started to whisper speculations about her parents' relationship not being all of what it says on the tin. Her parents are found guilty of messing with the match system to be together and avoid a Bad Match status and are made an example of by banishment But Rayni isn't banished with them as instead her parents leave her with a note and are never heard from again Rayni drops out of Foxfire and lives in a rented room in Mysterium until Gisela finds her and tell her to quit her unemployment and join her emo band Cool, alright. Mid and extremely questionable loyalties. So you'll just go with whoever reaches out their hand first. Good to know

Beyond her frankly uninteresting backstory Rayni's personality is the exact same cookie cutter cardboard cutout mean girl leave no coughed insults unspoke persona that is so old and over used I think Shannon might've actually managed to resuscitate this dead horse. Rayni whines and bitches about how 'no one will trust her' but does absolutely nothing to win herself any favors. Instead she seems more than chipper to keep digging at her own grave so why dont we just drop this whole pointless scene and let her keep on going at it She's boring. She's bland. She's lame. And don't get me started on the weird cat lamp thing I don't know if Shannon was going for 'oh look she likes cats' or 'boo hoo she's so broken and jaded an this lamp is the one thing that lights up her dark dark soul'.

Rayni is weird, her vibes are just so off and so lack luster. Her depth is so shallow I couldn't even soak up a puddle of it with a napkin.

What's the point of bring in a bad guy now good guy/anti hero if all they do is snark in the corner, pet a cat statue, watch the protagonist do jack diddly squat and be like "oh yeah, you're a leader now" girl what??? That entire scene where Rayni unmasks herself was so boring if I cut out the only other emotion I felt while listening which was annoyance. I listened and live reacted to it on discord with some friends as my witness and what even was that scene? Tam is supposedly the one holding the talking stick in the group I guess just because he and Rayni are just such good buds so obviously he should take point (cause no one thinks he's brainwashed) and the entire time Rayni bicthes and moans about how no one trusts her (girl you're wearing a stinky, smelly, raggedy terrorist hood. You couldn't ask to trade it for a less stinky less terrorist embroidered one?) and while yeah people poke holes at her and take small jabs Rayni really seems gung ho with tossing playground responses with 14-16 year olds at her grown ass age. She's one year younger than Wyile and while young adults in their 19/20s arent mature at all it is CRAZY to me that she bitches about no one trusting her and then turns and calls Fitz Sophie's "telepath back-up" I believe the correct quote is "You're basically Sophie's telepath backup" and this is said to Fitz and that was just the most absurd thing I've ever fucking heard spoken by Gisela's fucking lapdog. Fitz is done so dirty in this book and Rayni basically calls Fitz a "backup" like he's a damn battery or some waterboy Sophie only needs to use like an object. The worst part isn't that its the bad guy's lapdog with questionable loyalties that says this. Its the fact that no one stood up for Fitz. No one said anything. And Sophie fucking laughed. She laughed at that. And Fitz is the only one to blame for their fucked up cognate bond, sure. (Biana, FITZ'S FUCKING SISTER also says and does nothing because Biana is just a little poster Shannon sticks on the wall this whole book)

And not to mention that whole bit with Rayni constantly comparing her and Stina as if they're different faces on the same coin. Like you can't sit there in your terrorist onesie and look someone in the face and be like "Yeah your life is gonna be just like mine. Just you wait. It's coming for you. And then, yeah, you'll be just like me. Huff Huff" and then get mad when she doesn't like you in the slightest. Like yeah, I just love sitting in the same room as someone who tells me my life has a timer on my happy days because we're totes twinsies. Shannon should've let Stina punch Rayni because if this snarky little bug really wanted some damn allies wouldn't she want Stina on her side? You know, the most outspoken nay sayer in all of the Lost Cities? If you're gonna bring up your little Gisela Mini-Me act get good Circus-Circus.

If I wanna like Rayni I need more depth than Miss Hardknock Life over here who gets her kicks out of throwing tantrums when people dont trust her while she wears a terrorist hood and gets her kicks out of replying to every petty response.

If I could, I'd rewrite that whole scene because I genuinely love big groups in books and it would be fun to see a diverse group personality wise instead of the same 'bad bitch' boring outline. I can't believe Rayni's 'tough' personality is a facade because she's not just tough to trust. She's tough to want in any way shape or form She's not Heather Chandler, She's not even Heather Duke, she could never even dream of being Regina Georgie. She's so 2D she flies away with a tiny sigh. The whole book could've honestly been the exact same without Rayni around. Erase her and simply have Trix reach out on his own or something and you still have the Esilyum plot intact. Rayni was just there to make a page count for nothing of any great importance.

That's just what I think of Rayni. She annoys, bores, and pisses me off. She's like the physical embodiment of an Instagram comment section. If yall want, please tell me what you think about her because I genuinely want to know what makes her even the slightest bit interesting to any of you. I like headcanons and I can be convince to take a lot of them. Will my opinion on canon Rayni change? Who knows man

[rustys-lodge]

It is but a little cold

Request by : @xpsidedownn​ :  Please more Hannibal x daughter reader! I love your stories sm. I have a request, if that’s okay? Maybe reader gets sick and stays home from school (if they go) and Hannibal takes care of her? If you feel uncomfortable in any way pls don’t do this! Thank you 

A/N : I’m so so so sorry, darling. I have been busy with school. I hope you like it  ❤❤❤❤

Warnings : none, just a bunch of fluff. 

------

A shaken up noise left your lips as you attempted to lift your head off the pillow, indomitable and unwilling.

“Dad…I’m not sure i’ll be able to go today.” You whispered, drawing in a breath of air and exhaling it painfully. 

Your whole body hurt, your muscles, your head, even your eyes ached with each movement of the iris and your body burned flames, all the while you trembled from the cold. You were ill, you felt like you were…dying. 

“Dying ?” Your father sweetly chuckled. “You are not dying,It is but a little cold.” 

You growned, unsatisfied with his answer. 

“ It is said that contentment preserves one from catching a cold.” And just as if he needed to make you feel worse. “Have you been feeling down lately ?” 

You growned. “Oh, please.” As you rolled to your other side, facing away from him while whimpers followed each movement you made, right until you stopped moving “You, of all people should not be mingling philosphy and science.” 

Hannibal chuckled again at your response, pressing his warm hand on the back of your shoulder. “I am only joking. What a better way to lighten up your mood ?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Actually make me feel better, maybe ?

“Maybe try less boring jokes ?” You sugarcoated your own thoguhts, but still surpressed a laugh.And although you usually find yourself to be funny, he still was the man that kept you alive. And you’d much rather keep it that way.

“I’m going to let that one go, only because you are ill.” Your father flashed you a quick smile before getting off the bed. But you gripped his wrist and pulled him down, causing a gasp to leave his lips. 

Hannibal was a trained man, always aware of his surroundings because one little mistake, one little moment of relaxation would cost him his life, and much more. 

It seemed to you, though, that whenever you were around, he’d get calmer, like at that moment, if someone else would have done that to him, they’d be lamb for dinner....Not literally, hannibal is not a canniball. 

“Please don’t leave me;” You pouted. 

“I have to feed you, my darling. How else would you heal ?” Hannibal completely ignored your puppy eye attempt. He got up, again, tenser than before, prepared for another drag down. But you didn’t pull him again, you just gripped his wrist harder. 

“By staying with me, maybe ?” You sarcastically said, dragging your lower lip out even more. You thought, maybe if you looked cuter he’d stay ? 

But he didn’t. And you growled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Rest, darling. I’ll come back with the most delicious soup you’ve ever tasted” Your father bent down slightly, rubbing your cheek from above. “And i will come back with the most delicious soup you’ve ever tasted.

Thankful, you smiled weakly.  “No need, dad. I’ll stick to a chicken soup this time. I’d much rather you be with me, right now.” 

Jokes aside, you didn’t want to be alone at such a moment. Your whole body ached, and so did your brain. But your father’s presence eased that pain, somehow. And as much as you knew his lovely soups do ease the pain too, you’d rather stick to his presence, his smile and lame jokes. 

“You’ve won me over.” Hannibal stepped away from you, just a little warning step, before disappearing out of the room. And soon after that, his steps quickened, he was running. 

“Why are you-” Your voice cracked and you let out a loud cough. “Why are you running ?” You tried again, quieter this time.

“So that i can come back quickly.” He shouted from afar, and all you could do is grin. 

Your father was never one to take things lightly, smile, joke, even less play around. But there he was, doing it all , for you.

-----

❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹

[fictional-magic]

love for cigs and love without 'em

black!reader x harry potter summary: you'd do anything for harry. even stop smoking.

if i were to imagine harry in a relationship with sirius' daughter: the fire crackled below the sofa, as you take out a cigarette from the box set aside on a table you didn't know belonged to who, and harry watched, entranced by your movements of lighting the stick between your nimble fingers. his eyes trace your neck as you look up to release a steady stream of smoke from your soft lips. he glances with his eyes slightly wide, not understanding the absolute serenity on your face by the icky scent of smoke emerging and spreading across the room. he doesn't smoke, no. a boy like him you assume, would never indulge in activities as crass as getting high. however, he doesn't need tobacco to get drunk. he gets drunk on the way your body relaxes as you take in the smoke and release it. he feels bold once you've finally blown it out on your ashtray beside you. he slowly asks you for permission non-verbally as he brings you in closer and puts his lips on yours, softness emerging from his body, and messy, lovesick movements from yours. it feels good to know he kissed you first this time.

your back sinks more into the couch as he kisses you mad, never stopping the electric connection between you two. he then slowly whispers, "you smell like bad smoke." as you almost grin into his mouth as you mutter back, "alright love, i'll quit." ---------- your eyes are red from completing an essay that was due two weeks ago as you sit on the bench of the hall, eating a sandwich way too oily to be classified as breakfast.

hermione talks to you about things you're not listening to, because you'll forget it later anyway. your amazing boyfriend walks in, who you're too overwhelmed to talk to as he helped you from your sixth to twelfth mental breakdown yesterday as you complained about incoherently stupid stuff that happens on a daily basis in your life.

as you think and overthink about things definitely not worth your time, harry has already sat in the bench beside yours. you come back to earth from your thoughts of girls exclaiming about a slytherin sitting with the chosen one when the boy in question talks about quidditch practice to ron. you hear george from the other end of the gryffindor table, shouting at the top of his lungs as always, "got a cig on you, black?" with that everlasting, cheerful, happy grin, one that burns your insides when you think of being as happy as him. you respond in a less loud manner, "i quit already. wrong timing!" as your three friends side-eye you in a way you'd be convinced you just killed someone. with a confused face, you sigh, "what?" "you quit smoking? am i hearing this right?" your girl best friend exclaims. you feel way too much like the centre of attention to reply properly. "oh, sod off." is your lame attempt at fake exhaustion. "why though? why now?" asks ron. "because your dear harry here," she clears her throat, "does not like the taste of smoke." the guy you're spilling secrets of coughs up his pumpkin juice at this, clearing his throat violently. you pat his back, smirking, happy with your response which shook him, and ask with dripping sarcasm and faux concern, "are you alright harry?" he coughs again, and then replies with the most boring response ever, "i'm fine, yeah." two minutes later, after processing whatever happened, he opens his mouth again, "you quit something you love for me?" as you laugh unabashedly and look the opposite direction, "i love you more than i love smoke, sweets." and glance at him with that sirius black grin once again.

[hostilemuppet]

I can see Hapenny introducing Alan to Branch and Poppy🤩

me and 8bit came up with a whole scenario, where bc penny has never been interested in anyone but wants (needs) an heir, they set up a gameshow where whoever makes penny "laugh" the hardest is the winner, and they get the privilege of having their kid be the next in line for the throne!

penny doesnt like anyone. their co-judges are cracking up at the antics of every contestant, while penny couldnt possibly be more bored. they yawn as someone slips on a banana peel. so cliche! they think it was a bad idea, until someone walks on stage. someone who had no idea what was going on but ended up there anyway. hes nervous, and he says the worst joke everyone else in the room has ever heard. its crickets. someone coughs. penny is banging their fist on the table and silently laughing so hard theyre crying. they want THAT one! everyone else is shocked. hes so........ lame. hes so normal he loops back around to being weird! one of the contestants was a sexy mime! but pennys made up their mind. and yeah, it was just supposed to be this one thing, but... they cant help that they were instantly smitten with the little guy 🥺

his favourite television show is the office. he is an accountant. he lives in a two bedroom flat with two roommates, but its okay bc one of those bedrooms is his. he had no idea what he signed up for he was just in the right place at the right time. he had the arrangement explained to him as the confetti went off, representing his victory. at first he was concerned but also who WOULDNT love penny?

[writermask-0807]

bakugo katsuki x reader

A/N: omg this took way too long 😭😭 but-

for my loyal follower, nunezs-stuff!! sorry for the delay, and I hope that I've done your request justice. Also, once again, I might not have all of your oc's personality quirks, but i did try. Thank you for requesting, Hope you enjoy!

Warnings:

wayyy too long for some hcs, ooc bakugo, lowkey aggressive bakugo (he should be a warning himself lol), swearing (cus it's bakugo, duh), I wrote kianna using ‘you’ since it wasn’t specified. kianna's eating disorder is also included, and im not sure if i depicted it correctly, but i tried my best!! hope not to offend anyone, haha uhh that's pretty much it, ig. Oh, and this one is for bakugo only, sorry, but I'm currently working on the others- they'll be out in a while. Lmk if I missed anything else!!

bakugo katsuki, who meets you at the entrance exams, and, initially, regards your existence with indifference, since he’s already fuming, hands sparking with flames - all he’s thinking about is the sheer audacity of that bastard deku to even think about coming here, and how he’s gonna pummel him into the ground!!

*ehem*

so he’s honestly taken aback by your display of strength in the exams; he hadn’t paid much attention to you, yeah, but you sure didn’t look strong from how much he knew

either way, he’s intrigued - and almost immediately regards you as a new rival, and he expresses it in the only way he knows how to

“oi ya damn nerd! you must think highly of yourself, flexing your quirk like that!”

cue you turning to him with blank eyes

you shake his hand off your shoulder, looking unimpressed, even - bored

and almost immediately you piss him off with that - that expression of yours

there’s just something about it - something about that eerie emptiness in your eyes that sets him off, but bakugo’s determined and he isn’t going to let you off the hook so easily

so the both of you form a weird kind of rivalry/friendship into the first year of u.a that he definitely won’t admit is kind of nice

because with you, even with your blunt words and sharp eyes, you stick around when so many others have left him behind

and he can’t entirely blame them, selfish as he is

and it’s hard at first, because he’s more prone to blasting you with his quirk than ever having a *cough* normal *cough* conversation with you, but you’re just as stubborn as him, if not more

and you don’t take his shit either - returning his sneers and snide remarks with leers and barbs of your own

and you’re annoying, sure, always so goddamn blunt and straightforward, constantly on his heels like some kind of damn insect he can’t get rid of, but your company is nice from time to time (though he’ll never tell that straight to your face in a thousand years)

and bakugo just doesn’t get it at first

he knows he’s not the ideal friend (are you even… ‘friends’?); he’ll say shit that hits right where it hurts, does stupid shit that he doesn’t actually really mean

but you stick around and he learns to tolerate you and despite your arguments that are really just banter at this point, you look out for him and so does he, and… that’s kind of it, he supposes

and he doesn’t know how it has evolved to this - but he quickly learns to read between your insults and find the grudging compliment, he learns to see the embarrassed red in the tips of your ears when your face remains blank

he begrudgingly learns your likes and dislikes (though not on his own will), and so whenever he visits a store, he finds his eyes catching over the things you’d like, and for some godforsaken reason, ends up buying them for you

shoves it in your arms with a furious flush on his face and some lame excuse that you probably don’t believe but have the good graces not to point out

he learns that you can cook, and that it’s surprisingly good (again, he’ll never, ever admit it)

which is in anomaly in itself, and when he finds out, demands that you cook for him, claiming that he needs to taste how ‘bad’ his rival’s cooking is

you respond to this with a fond eye roll, and inform him that it’s definitely better than his, which riles him up, but then you end up cooking for him anyway

and, on a more intimate occasion, he learns that you can’t quite stomach the food you so meticulously make, and it pisses him off

of course, he knows it’s a disorder and that it can’t tackled by his sheer brashness alone

so he takes a more ‘subtler’ approach, if you can even call it that lol

ends up doing a ton of research; he starts with the little things, a slice of fruit here, a piece of fruit there- bakugo makes sure to periodically feed you small amounts of food because he takes notice that you can never really finish big meals

piles more food on your plate when he thinks you’re not looking

threatens you with smoking hands and an angry scowl (but he’s not angry, not really) to “eat more, damnit!” claiming that “you’ll be a scrawny little bastard forever so eat before i make you!”

(but thankfully, you don’t mind half as much as you’re amused)

comes ‘round to your room with tubs of your favorite foods that he claims he ‘accidentally’ made too much of (it’s a literal feast, btw)

watches you intently to make sure you’re actually eating, and when you tell him, quite bluntly, that he looks like a creep with a weird fetish of watching ppl eat, he tells you to “fuck off!” in no less indignant terms

continues to watch you like a hawk anyway lmao

(he catches you smiling, makes a whole fuss about it, and the both of you end up brawling it out, food promptly forgotten)

and so in the midst of this grudging rivalry-that’s-actually-really-friendship, it takes bakugo a painfully, painfully long time to realize

he likes you

no, no, no- he actually, really really really likes you

and it hits him like a ton of bricks after kamino

he’d came back as haunted and withdrawn as a ghost, and he’d pushed everyone away, all angry sneers and bared teeth and growling voice

but you’d stayed

you didn’t flinch away from his fury and his hurt and his screaming anguish - you’d welcomed it with open arms, quite literally

you’d forced his thrashing body into a tight hug, clamped your arms around until he’d stopped protesting and just collapsed onto you, sobbing his heart out, a crying, shaking mess

you were uncharacteristically gentle, soothing his cries with a hand carding through his damp hair and lips pressed his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, his fluttering eyelids

and it’s there, slumped boneless in your arms, voice hoarse from screaming himself raw and eyes red and puffy, too tired for his pride to protest, that bakugo - finally, after a stupidly long time - realizes

oh shit. i’m in love.

and he’s pretty sure you know, too

and so there’s no confessions, no fireworks or the sudden coming of spring to mark the start of something wonderful (but it is wonderful); it just sort of… happens

and so nothing changes- not really

you still argue over every little thing, and he still brings food ‘round to your room and you still spend time together doing study sessions;

except nowadays whenever you reach out to tug

at his hair out of eventual annoyance whenever you fight, a stupid lovesick blush rushes to his cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to snuff it out

and you accept his dishes with a faint smile that definitely doesn’t make him swoon

and the study sessions have turned to study dates that he really just spends admiring every flutter of your lashes and the light to your eyes whenever you get an equation right; wondering at the soft round of your cheeks that crinkle with your smiling dimples (that rarely stay long enough for him to catch), and the sweet curve of your mouth that lifts, just barely, into a gentle smile

and so with you and bakugo, it’s a learning kind of love; the kind that teaches you the ups and downs of life, the kind that hurts in the best sort of way

because it’s with you that bakugo learns how to trust and be trusted

(because what else was it when he showed him all your scars and your bruises, what else was it when you bared yourself inside out for him, the good and the bad, the flaws and perfection, and he for you?)

and it’s with you that bakugo learns to love and be loved, the soft gentle kind he’d thought to be so weak before, but - well

it’s not so bad after all. is it now?

[goose-duck]

🥧 Class Trip 🥧

~~~~~~

Maxley?? Fanfic oneshot thingy, idk, I'm sick and felt inspired. I say "maxley??" Bc it's Max and Bradley for sure but I dunno if it'll come off as romantic or not I actually have no idea what I'm writing...why am doing this when I'm sick? Oh well, enjoy ✨

~~~~~~

Our class is going on a trip today, I can't tell if I'm excited or not. We're going to a museum which isn't particularly entertaining...especially given its the one I'm employed at, but anything's better than class I suppose? I don't know why the professor decided to take us on a trip, he's usually so...uh...how do I describe him? Lame? Boring? Old? Decrepit? I should stop...before my inside thoughts become outside thoughts...though im sure everyone else is thinking the same thing. Maybe it's because it's the end of the year and he just kinda gave up? I don't know...why am I even still thinking about this?

I'm sitting where I usually sit with Bobby and PJ. We're waiting for the rest of the class...or at least most of the class, to show up so we can leave. Bobby and PJ are talking but I'm not overly interested. I started being friends with Bradley a few weeks ago...its been good...but it started off really weird. We don't talk much but there's less animosity between us now and we occasionally make light conversation. Bradley also sits with us now so that's cool I guess?? He's on the other side of me, my left side, the side of my dominant hand. Makes it difficult to write sometimes because we'll bump elbows. He's also here, he was here before everyone else, as always.

I lay my head on the table and look at him, admiring his sharp jawline and beautiful blue eyes...what..? Nevermind, he's got a nice face, it's not weird at all to think that. Right? Right! I'm not...uh...feeling things...at all. Totally normal thoughts and feelings here. I look down at the desk, silently judging myself before looking up at him again, meeting his eyes. Bradley's giving me a strange look, probably because I have my head on the table after having been so excited a few minutes ago. I'm just bored of waiting for the rest of the class. He gives me a soft smirk before rolling his eyes and going on his phone. I just continue with what I was doing.

I finally decide to say something, I say it every morning to him, "good morning, Brad." I say. He normal says good morning back but today he just looked at me before pulling out a bag of cough drops and popping one in his mouth. Ah, his throat must be sore. "You sick, Brad?" I question. He nods at me. I giggle a little, our professor's name is also Brad, it's funny, kinda.

Eventually most of the class shows up and we all start on our way to the museum. It's close enough to walk to but we have to walk down a steep hill which we all know will be miserable on the walk back up. It's a hot sunny day, 25°c, and it's only the morning. Bobby and PJ and ahead of me and Bradley by a little bit on our walk. I think Bradley is walking slower than usual because he's sick, he'd normally be out walking me and I'd have to run after him. On the walk down me and him share a few words and joke around a bit. We come to a crosswalk and a few people jaywalk instead of using the crosswalk, not a big deal but Bobby makes a joke about it being illegal before soon following suit and also not using the crosswalk.

A little further on our walk and we're on a flat spot before the next hill we have to go down. Somehow me and Bradley ended up in front of Bobby and PJ, I guess we were walking quicker than I thought. Bobby walks up to Bradley holding out a $10 bill, "Hey, Brad?" He says laughing a little. "What, Bobby?" Bradley responds, his voice sounding hoarse from his cold. "I'll give you $10 to carry me the rest of the way." Bobby suggest, holding the bill more out to Bradley. Bradley laughs, taking the money and stops walking to Bobby can get on his back. Me and PJ stop walking too to watch this. Bobby hops up on Bradley's back and Bradley let's out a huff, walking a little ways before dropping Bobby and giving him his money back. "You're heavier than you look!" Bradley says sounding a little more tired than before, "how much do you weigh!?" He quickly adds on. Bobby tells him he doesn't keep track then retorts my asking Bradley how much he weights. Apparently Bradley weighs 220 lbs...double the amount I weigh, literally, I weigh 120. Bradley then says, "fuck, you're probably heavier than I am, Bobby, no wonder you're so hard to carry!" Bobby gets offended but doesn't deny it. I laugh a little, as we all continue walking.

Eventually we get to the museum, it's a historical museum full of old artifacts from the native people of the area. I got my job here three years ago, I got in on account of being indigenous myself. They wanted indigenous people to work here with these artifacts rather than the people who colonized our land. Fair enough, and it got me a job that pays more than minimum wage, so, win for me.

When we get inside my boss introduces herself and tells us all what we'll be doing. A scavenger hunt. I already know where everything is as I helped set it up, but I don't say anything, I'll be the secret weapon to whoever decides to work with me as we're told to get into teams of two. Bobby and PJ group up and so does everyone else, leaving me and Bradley, which I'm not opposed to. My boss gives everyone their clipboards giving me a look when she got to me and Bradley. "Why'd she look at you like that?" Bradley inquires. I giggle a little, signalling him to come a little closer so I can whisper to him, "I work here." I whisper into his ear. He gives a look, "ah, how convenient, so we'll get this done in no time?" I give him a snide look, "nope, if you were a cute girl maybe I would have, but you're Bradley Uppercrust iii, I'm sure you can do this without my help." I joke, making it clear I'm not letting him use me as an advantage. Bradley sighs, rolls his eyes, then gets started on the scavenger hunt.

While Bradley does the scavenger hunt I go find some of my coworkers and chat with them. Mostly just talking about how school's been for everyone. Some found university easy, others said it was miserable, one said she didn't have the money to continue. I felt bad for her, but there's not much I can do right now. Bradley gives the clip board with the scavenger hunt sheet to our teacher, Mr. Bradley, then walks over to our group to join in on the conversation until we get told we have to go back to campus.

About an hour later Mr. Bradley calls us all to meet at the front of the building, telling us it's time to go back now. A student asks who got done the hunt first, Mr. Bradley says it was Bradley. Huh, looks like he didn't need my help after all. Good for him. A few students groan and glare at Bradley but I give him a high five. "Good job, dude! Told ya you didn't need my help!" Bradley smiles at me in response to that, ruffling my hair and giving me a thumbs up. His throat must be hurting again, poor guy. Being sick is miserable. Sick on a trip where you have to walk everywhere? Even worse.

The first part of the walk back is fine, but it's definitely a lot hotter out now. I have Bradley check his phone, it's 31°c. Holy fuck...we're gonna die on the big hill just before the school.

Once we get to that hill Bradley gives me a worried look putting his hand on my back. I'd been breathing quite heavily, I didn't find it strange, I'm used to it, it's always like this for me, anemia kicking my ass at all times of the day. I look pale and I'm sweaty and can barely think, but I know I just have to make it back to class and sit down and get a drink. Bradley doesn't seem to think I'll make it though as I stumble around the sidewalk almost falling a few times. Bradley's hold on my tightens a bit when I almost fall into an oncoming vehicle. "You sound like you're dying.." Bradley says saying stressed. I laugh before coughing a little, finding it humourous that he's sick yet I'm the one having such a hard time. Bradley offers to carry me the rest of the way but I'm too prideful to let him, telling him I can make it on my own.

Once we get to the top of the hill there's a bunch of little kids and a few adults, I recognize them from the nearby daycare center. They're adorable, this one in a pink bucket hat waves at me and Bradley so I wave back. Bradley also gives the child a small wave before pulling me along so we actually make it to the school rather than me just being distracted with the adorable children. I'd never want kids of my own, but if a friend of mine had kid's I wouldn't mind babysitting for them.

Once we get into the foyer of the school Bradley quickly tries to pull me over to a vending machine and buy me a bottle of water. While he's doing that one of my friends walk by and asks what me and Bradley were up to, point out how we both look a mess. I can't get my words out because I'm still breathing heavily from the walk so I just wave and give a thumbs up. I'm sure that'll be a satisfactory answer, right?

Bradley comes back over to me with the bottle of water, opening it for me and shoving it up to my mouth. I guess he doesn't trust me to do it myself...do I really look like I'm in that bad of shape right now? Maybe I should just take the water. I drink the water Bradley is holding up to my mouth until I swat his hand away a little so I don't drown. He pulls the bottle of water away from my lips, allowing me to breathe and screwing the lid back onto the bottle. He then hands me the water and puts a hand on my back before pushing me along back to the lecture hall so we can sit down. I give him a nod as a thanks and he smiles and nods back.

[hamletthedane]

I’m a big Hamlet fan and I am curious as to what your favorite movie/for screen rendition is? I’ve been working my way through a lot of them, gone through about 7, so far Hamlet at Elsinore with Christopher Plummer is my favorite. I was just curious what yours is !

What a great question!!

Hamlet at Elsinore is definitely my favorite filmed version of the play. I feel that Christopher Plummer does a fantastic - and frankly critically underappreciated - job of portraying the more nuanced and complicated aspects of Hamlet's character while still giving a straightforward performance that's highly accessible to any audience. Notably, he doesn't treat the performance as his ~*~epic, defining role of a lifetime~*~ or ~high artistic theater~ (*cough* Branagh and Jacobi), but instead focuses on telling a deeply compelling, very moving story about the complex nature of grief and revenge. I also like that this version embraces the more "postmodern" elements that exist in the written text of Hamlet: the complicity of the audience, the inevitability of the outcome, Hamlet's genre-awareness and genre-defiance, etc.

[Not to keep hating on Branagh, but in contrast: Branagh's Hamlet in particular seems to go out of its way to avoid including the more interesting proto-postmodern thematic elements of the play - at times not seeming to recognize that they're even there. He instead focuses his time and energy on inserting new cinematography-based visual themes that go nowhere and at times stand in OPPOSITION to the actual tone and themes of the original text. Because apparently Hamlet the play is too boring and instead of lame elements like "themes" and "compelling characterization," we need a swinging chandelier sword fight scenes and Freudian weirdness. Truly the Joel Schumacher Phantom of the Opera adaptation of Shakespeare films. But I DIGRESS-)

Plus it doesn't hurt that everybody aside from Plummer in Hamlet at Elsinore is also fabulous. Obviously, Michael Caine's Horatio is the single best and most definitive version of the character in film, but I also love Robert Shaw's Claudius and Muller's Ophelia.

If we're talking favorite filmed versions of the STORY of Hamlet though, that's Asta Nielsen's silent film from 1921. It's so beautifully filmed and wonderfully told. She's what I picture when I picture Hamlet.

Other than that....I like Tennant and Stewarts' RSC filmed version well enough. It has a number of very strange choices and I don't love the re-ordering of the scenes, but Tennant does a great job with the character and I think it's a very approachable performance. A few other filmed stage versions are also excellent, though with a few similarly weird elements - I'd put Maxine Peake's version on the same tier as the RSC version. I do NOT like Branagh's version at all (if you couldn't already tell...). Jacobi's and Gibson's are slightly better, but they're still too focused on the prestige of the performance rather than the actual story being told imo. I think they fall under the same criticism as Holden Caulfield's scathing review of Laurence Olivier: "more like a general than a sad, screwed-up type guy." (Yes I know this line is an in-text authorial critique of Holden himself but also: he's right and he should say it.)

If you haven't already, I do highly recommend listening to the BBC Radio 4 audiodrama version of Hamlet, starring Jamie Parker. Despite being a audio version of a stage play, it somehow blows every filmed version of Hamlet (except maybe HAE) out of the water. I listen to it at least once a year.

Finally, my actual favorite versions of Hamlet have ALWAYS been those I've seen live (or seen bootleg filmed stage performances of lmao). If it's ever playing live near you, definitely go and see it. The play was meant to be seen on a live stage in front of you, and many of the jokes and themes only make sense in that context. In my opinion, the medium of live theater elevates the play so far beyond what a movie could ever achieve.

...sorry this answer is so long 😅 Really, it doesn't matter what my opinions on Hamlet films are. If any version of the play really speaks to you - even if it's the accursed Branagh version - that is so awesome and makes me really happy people are engaging with the play in that way! (But since you're saying that HAE is your favorite so far, I will add that you have excellent, discerning taste ;))