#once again asking how those -net tags work

[doonalli]

Hinako; Humanity in Affection and Connection (Hinako Character Analysis)

Hinako was probably the character analysis I wanted to write the most after Anzu, She is such an amazing character to me, but i just don't see any discussion on her at all, most of the time all I see is people just claiming she is only a plot device and not much of a character, or otherwise underutilised, which to me couldn’t be further from the truth. So I want to write an analysis on who Hinako is, and how she plays a part in YTTD.

To me all the dummies represent different aspects of humanity, Anzu represents it through her fear of death, Hayasaka represents it through his contradictory emotions, Kurumada represents it through his connection to others, Ranmaru represents it through his doubts, Mai represents it through her own autonomy, and I would argue that Hinako represents the physical aspect of humanity.

But over the course of the previous 5 analyses on the 5 other dummies one point that comes up again and again is that humanity isn't about the physical truth and it never was, and Hinako is no exception. Being an agent of Asu-naro her mindset is informed by theirs, you can see this is the way she talks about being used and the emphasis she places on "value" in general. Almost more like a tool than a person

And it's clear through her actions and reactions too, for example when Q-taro was stabbed and all the dummies went out of their way to help even though there was no benefit in this for them and Hinako just didn't get why, or a little beforehand when Ranmaru takes the tag from Sara (during the logic route). 

Hinako in those moments doesn't get why they would do these things for no real reason, when these actions don’t bring any value to them. 

Even from first meeting Hinako talks about information she can't share on account of using it as a safety net for herself: 

Right from our first meeting we can see glimpses into her ideology and it's easy to see where this mindset could have come from.

And later when finding about the secret information everyone has she claims that it gave them all new unique value, which no matter the choice, Sara denies as they have value anyways.

It's clear Hinako's mindset comes from Asu-naro, Kai, who's the character most similar to Hinako in this regard also shows this mentality off in how he pleads for his life with his “vital information for escape” during the first Main Game,

However, unlike Hinako, he was actually lucky enough to be able to escape the Asu-naro bubble. And we see the effects of that in his note to Sara on his laptop. 

The only chance Hinako gets is during the sub-game on the 4th and 5th floors, the Murderer Game, where she is placed along with the Dummies after she taking the place of the real Hinako. And while at first she seems to play into Asu-naro’s mindset, over the course of the chapter these beliefs are broken down for her, starting with Q-taro’s words after he got stabbed.

When Q-taro asks the dummies to work with them, Hinako is the most reluctant at first, asking him if he heard the rules, reiterating that one or the other has to die before she is cut off by Q-taro asking her an important question.

Hinako is shaken by this response, and as all the dummies start to help Q-taro 1 by 1 she is left behind with her protests. This acts as the first step to Hinako’s eventual willingness to connect however as of yet she isn’t convinced and that's shown during Keiji’s fight with Midori and its aftermath. 

During the fight she is the most actively detrimental to the humans, stopping Keiji from shooting the gun and grabbing Gin’s shovel to stop him from attacking midori, stating that:

And after Keiji is pushed into the coffin Hinako stubbornly states “Hmph… It's not our fault…” and after Ranmaru rips up the consent form that would have saved him Hinako reminds everyone that the dummies would have died if Keiji won and he still decided to fight despite that fact.

However once Ranmaru actually makes his intentions to save Keiji themselves clear Hinako immediately refutes it, asking:

And sticks to her sentiment by stating:

This mindset of hers is reinforced when the cast tries to move to the security office where Hinako tells them:

She physically can’t help Keiji even if she wanted to due to the red string of fate and she likens this to being a slave robbed of her freedom, something all too similar to what Asunaro’s mindset has been shown to us to be before.

However this mindset is proven wrong to Hinako once the collar pairings are turned off and she is freed from them. Still in disbelief, Mai then asks her to make up with everyone which she tries to fight back against by asking:

She is shut down once Anzu Hayasaka or Mai ask if she could really kill them. Anzu and Hayasaka specifically callsout their kindness while Mai fights back against it by claiming she’ll stop them herself.

Hinako still struggling to connect claims that:

Before finally breaking down and helping the cast by telling them about Midori’s ID card, giving up that “one or the other has to die” mentality from before and now starting to actually help find a new option. She agrees when Ranmaru asks her to come along and it is from this point forth Hinako starts to truly connect with the rest of the group.

And this is in a way shown off during the Maple fight where she can try to strike up a conversation with her:

Once Maple starts chasing after the group Kurumada gets injured, Hinako tells everyone to run to the 5th floor, and when Qtaro struggles to keep up she actually shows concern saying:

Rather than the refusal to care she showed before as the dummies all went to help Qtaro and when he just got stabbed on the monitor she shows him concern.

Then, when Gin tries to run back she reminds him that he will die, him and Qtaro both, and if Sara hesitates to close the elevator doors she will force them closed herself.

While Hinako isn’t outright showing affection in the same way others would, (likely as a result of how Asu-naro raises their agents without it according to Kai’s letter,) she still is concerned for others and that's an important difference to the Hinako from earlier who rarely did so.

This also shows again with her interactions with Kurumada. In the Logic Route, Hinako stays outside of the locker room during the puzzle alongside Kurumada, similar to how she stayed outside the lava puzzle in the boxing room earlier in the chapter. 

This could imply that she purposely protected Kurumada from entering, as her staying out isn’t mentioned in the emotion route, where Kurumada is staying behind with Kanna.

And when Kurumada attempts to deny the charger, if Anzu and Hayasaka died earlier in the chapter the action of telling Kurumada to use it on himself goes to Hinako:

Here Hinako is telling Kurumada to live, notably however, the way she goes about it is different to Anzu or Hayasaka who argue that they’re “allies”, instead Hinako argues from a more logical angle, telling him to just give it up and finally asking him a simple “...Why not live?”. It's clear that she does care for Kurumada and wants him to live, even if it's expressed differently to the others.

Hinako makes fun of him as he berates the dummies for not thinking things through by asking “Should the guy who got himself injured like this be saying that?”, a fun parallel to how Hinako protested against the dummies helping Q-taro by calling them idiots where Kurumada made fun of her instead.

Originally Hinako refuted when the dummies were helping Q-taro and now Kurumada attempts to refuse help from the dummies himself.

Kurumada then goes on to tell Sara his secret info, in his eyes removing the last of his value, a mindset Hinako herself operated under earlier when first finding out about the secret info, but Sara proves her words from back then with how she makes a promise with Kurumada to protect everyone, dummies included.

The next scene I want to talk about is a very important one, not only is it a major example of Hinako truly opening up and connecting with her allies, but it's also the first example of Midori taking that away from her, in a small way at least.

When Ranmaru stands over Kurumada thinking about possibly tagging him Hinako walks in stating

She reveals a collar reset device, specifically with the intention of protecting her allies.

It's also interesting that the device she reveals is specifically one that needs cooperation, just another note to add to Hinako’s newfound willingness to connect.

However after Hinako turns on the device and is about to explain how it works Midori walks in to take that from her and explain it instead, even using her (and Kanna/Sou) as an example for the shocking system, almost like a tool…

It's just a small example but nonetheless it is an example of Midori dehumanising Hinako in a way, by taking away her spotlight from helping the others for himself and using her. And this will eventually lead to a much bigger example later…

On a totally and completely unrelated note, once the cast gets back down to the 4th floor and are searching for answers as to where Keiji could be they find Mai alone instead, after giving her the ID card they all decide to follow her into a new room. Here Hinako takes the chance to use the hot drinks machine to carry a bunch of hot cocoa, and soon after asks if she can go to search the cemetery, when told it would be dangerous to go alone she decides to take Ranmaru along with her, further showing her affection for Ranmaru in some form.

Later we find out her goal here was to actually spill the hot cocoa on her coffin to protect herself during the banquet,

While it's unclear how much she knew about the banquet, she still seems to have done it for that purpose, not knowing she would later swap with Midori.

But its still important to add how she also spilt cocoa on Ranmaru’s coffin. At first it’s thought to be done as a distraction but if Hinako knew that unglowing her coffin with cocoa would save her then she would have had to know what spilling cocoa onto Ranmaru’s coffin would do too.

Ranmaru then leaves to “check up on Kurumada”, leaving Hinako alone, and an announcement from “Keiji” is heard, leading Sara to go into the classroom alone and get stunned.

Once Sara regains consciousness in the Kanna lives route Hinako will return without Ranmaru, and once the topic changes to Kurumada’s whereabouts Hinako makes a joke about Kurumada possibly being dead, however her expression quickly changes to a worried one once she realises no one actually checked, showing her concern for him yet again.

This joke is also similar to the types of dark jokes Kai, the other Asu-naro member of the cast, would make, furthering that connection.

The Logic route however has a much less… lighthearted scene… Instead Ranmaru ends up killing the remaining Yabusame and Hinako reacts to this with a hatred for Ranmaru, one only beaten by Kurumada’s. She calls him out for wanting to save himself and Ranmaru berates her, asking when she decided to switch sides, to which she can’t respond.

This bitterness continues to the pre-banquet where Hinako asks Sara if it's alright to leave Ranmaru free, something awfully similar to how she talked earlier in the chapter about being not being free, she goes on to state her want for revenge against him before playing it off as a joke. Finally she remarks that they could just leave Ranmaru powerless once the banquet is over, asking Sara if she really is going to forgive him for killing Yabusame and ending with the notion that there isn’t any point taking it out on her with a dour expression.

If Ranmaru died she is less vengeful on account of there being no one to take revenge against, instead she remarks that if it weren’t for Ranmaru’s “stupid betrayal” she could have been a bit happier with everyone alive, then she tells Sara is a shame about Yabusame, before telling her to keep her head up with the banquet ahead.

It's important that she yet again shows her newfound concerns for others, even admitting that she would be happier if more people were alive, but it's also important that it was Ranmaru who betrayed everyone as Hinako was shown to be close to Ranmaru when she saved him and she explored with him, so to have him do this and sort of act like a tool for Sara goes against everything she’s learnt.

In the Emotion Route though Hinako is much happier, even admitting as much when Sara asks, remarking how amazing it is they were all able to make it in one piece if all the dolls survived then playing it off as “better than being torn to pieces”, she then makes Sara swear to bring the dummies back after the banquet.

If all the dummies survived Kurumada will request for a song, Hinako listening in will confess that it's pretty nice even at a time like this. The song itself is named “Tunagu” literally meaning “to connect”, and its here is the truest form of connection between everyone in the cast and with Hinako. In this moment, Hinako can truly say she is human… but it doesn’t last long.

When entering the coffins for the banquet she is always first or second to enter, likely as she believes she will be safe due to her coffin no longer glowing after being hot cocoa’ed, but as the coffins are buried under the ground Midori calls for Hinako, and while it’s unknown the exact circumstances they end up swapping coffins, and this choice ends up dooming Hinako, as she is later betrayed by Midori and killed, seemingly unexpectedly.

This action ends up dehumanising Hinako, relegating her to just a tool for Midori, despite all the growth she displayed, it's all taken away from her at this moment. She dies, not even having her own choice in the matter, unlike the others (excluding Anzu) and in turn she dies, still under Asunaro's grasp. Midori being in a non glowing coffin also puts Ranmaru back in danger, when he should have been safe, taking even that part away from Hinako.

Hinako’s relationship with Midori also works as a dark parallel to Sou and Kanna’s, Kanna’s claims of not being useful matching Hinako using her usefulness as a safety net, the care Sou inevitably has for Kanna versus the lack of care Midori has as he kills off his allies. It's what Sou and Kanna would’ve been without the affection they had for each other.

The effects of that are seen throughout the rest of the Banquet, Hinako ends up being presented as possibly an enemy when Q-taro claims everyone who's died so far has been an ally, however, Hinako’s last words end up exposing Midori and give the participants another fighting chance.

Despite Hinako physically being a human she isn’t treated as such because that's not what humanity is about, and that's the tragedy of Hinako, but even so, for those few moments where she truly connected with the dummies and the survivors she was really “alive”, and she was able to, in some small ways, truly be free from Asunaro.

And in a way it was all because of the connection the real Hinako Mishuku and Alice shared, which gave our Hinako the chance to connect with others too, and with that, just like Kai did before her, she finally learnt one aspect of what it meant to be a human, to connect with others and to show affection and have that same affection given back to you.

================================================

Hinako undergoes a drastic change from the Hinako we saw at the start of the chapter, but recounting what she has done over the course of the chapter you can see the natural progression she takes to get here. It can be easy to disregard this aspect of her when we find out about her connection to Asunaro after she died, but I think that's a disservice to Hinako, and I think she is so much more than the banquet twists.

There is plenty to Hinako, from her growth as a person and her learning to connect, to showing the effects Midori and Asunaro have over her, to simply showing off another aspect to what makes a human, and it's why I think Hinako is genuinely such a great character that i can’t wait to see more of. Not to “fix” her or give her something but to expand on what's already there, because she is a character like any other.

I don’t think Hinako’s character is over yet of course, i’m certain there will be more from her in 3-2 and in her Minisode but I do think that Hinako is already a full character, albeit a tragic one, I don’t think she was misused or killed off to early. Hinako’s character exists for reasons and those reasons were genuinely fulfilled, she shows the effect Asunaro and their mindset have on their agents, and just how trapped they are, in a way no other character really could, and she adds yet another layer to the themes of 3-1 and humanity as a whole.

I think calling Hinako a waste of a character or to simply write her off as a plot device is unfair to who Hinako is and her purpose in the story, I think that there is a lot to here already in game that people don’t see because they insist Hinako exists solely for the twists during the Banquet and thats sad :( So hopefully at least this post will get you to appreciate Hinako a bit more and see her as more than just a tool, in universe and out of it too.

Short part 2 type thing -> Here!!!!

but this has gone on long enough, I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!

[buryustogether]

-> HEATSTROKES AND OTHER MEET CUTES

saul bright x f!reader (not v)

wc: 5.3k

summary: after suffering a severe heatstroke and the beatdown of your life, you stumble across a nomad camp in the badlands. their leader is willing to offer a helping hand.

warnings/tags: heatstrokes, getting mugged, guns, blood, swearing, vomiting, mentions of rape/noncon, undressing in front of a stranger, strangers to lovers, thigh riding, smut, use of good girl, running away

author’s note: come get y’all’s bullshit

You had heard the same phrase over and over again.

You’d heard it at bars from truckers who had driven through the deserts all day and all night to avoid stopping out in the open. Their eyes were stamped with purple half-moons, expressions slack with exhaustion and fatigue they barely fought off. Their clothes were dusty despite never once stepping out of their cabs, and they spoke as if they’d seen the rapture itself out in those barren wastelands.

You’d heard it from ex-nomads who had sought to give up their lives in the deserts, too scarred from what they’d seen and endured to carry on out in the open. Their hands were calloused and their lips dry, always carrying around bits and traces of their old life, no matter how far they ran or how hard they tried to scrub all the dust off.

You’d heard it from mercenaries who’d had the misfortune of working jobs out there in the flat, dry banks and plains. They shook their heads when asked about it, said that some things just needed to lay down and fuckin’ die. Their gazes danced with ravens and scavenger birds picking at something unseen in the brush, and their footsteps were a little lighter than they once had been, as if they were scared of leaving footprints in sand that wasn’t even there.

You had heard the same phrase over and over again.

“If you think Night City is bad, wait until you get out to the Badlands.”

You had always thought they were being dramatic. Silly. Ridiculous. It was all just a bunch of desert, nothing but rocky mountain ridges and a brutal, unforgiving sun that found a way through the clouds even if the heavens themselves refused to part.

You had been wrong. So very, horribly, awfully wrong.

Sand clinging to your pants, your hair, your shoes - everything - weighed you down as you slowly trudged your way through the nothingness of the Badlands back toward the city. The tops of the skyscrapers and the holo-ads just barely prodded at the horizon, teasing you in a mirage of sorts. Miles. Miles upon miles left until you reached salvation, safety, relief.

You couldn’t help but pant with parted lips as you feebly stepped up a ridge and forced your legs to move along - one after the other. That’s all. That’s all that it was. And yet, the simple act of walking felt as though it were the most impossible thing you’d ever done.

Nothing in your parched, sun-fried brain could tell you what the hell you had even been thinking coming all the way out here. You’d struck up a deal with a wastelander over the net abour buying a bike that looked preem enough to have come straight from the dealer’s website. Now, you were sure that’s where it had been from.

By the time you’d parked your car in the middle of the abandoned lot you and the seller had agreed to meet at, it had been too late. You’d been met with a tap on your window from the end of a pistol barrel, and on the other side had been a man wearing a mask over his face and goggles over his eyes to shield himself from the sand blowing in the breeze.

The was a blur in the forefront of your mind, too fast and miserable and beige-tinted to remember much.

The scavengers had pulled you from your car and stripped you of anything useful you had - your pieces, the tools from your trunk, hell - they’d even taken your belt buckle, thinking it to be worth anything more than a few dozen eddies. You had cried out, screamed for help as they backed you against your car and beat the living sense out of you, but of course no one had come. Your yells had been noting more than a few whispers on the wind, as far as anyone else was concerned. They had left you in that lot, staring up at the blinding sky, feeling blood slip from your mouth and trickle down the side of your face. Gasping for air in your bruised lungs.

Wondering how you had been so fucking stupid.

You’d been walking for what felt like hours now - the sun was beginning to set over the jagged tops of the mountains, threatening to drench you in the everlasting darkness of the Badlands. If you could get scammed, jacked, and hacked in broad daylight, you were terrified to think of what could happen when not even the light was there to guide you.

Water was merely a dream, an illusion, as was any hope of making it back to the city in one piece. Your feet dragged behind you and your heart thundered in your ears. A migraine like you’d never felt before was pounding like a jackhammer at the front of your skull, blurring your vision at the edges, and for every five steps you took forward, you stumbled back three to keep your balance. You knew if you fell to the grainy, unforgiving ground now, you’d never be getting back up again.

A low, exhausted moan escaped your lips as you half-collapsed, rocks and sharp-edged pebbles digging into your palms as you fought to keep yourself upright. You had no one back home - no significant other, no family, hardly many people you knew well enough to call friends. If you died out here, no one would come looking for you. You’d become another statistic of the missing persons files, forever lost out here to the uneven dunes and hungry landscape.

Just when you were about to finally keel over and call it quits, finally acknowledge that you weren’t going to ever touch the paved tarmac of the Night City streets again, you created a small ridge and laid eyes upon light. A small, grouped number of glowing lights, illuminating the faint shapes of trucks, and bikes, and makeshift tents and lean-tos.

Nomads.

It was a nomad camp.

Your heart surged in your hollow chest and you picked up your pace, ignoring the aching in your legs and the dry, grainy feeling scratching at your lungs.

“Hey,” you said softly, then covered your mouth with a fist as you coughed and hacked. Each spasm was as painful as pins dancing along your throat. You stumbled forward, approaching the camp slowly, watching as the shapes grew more clear and the lights became brighter. You could see the silhouettes of people wandering about their business, gathered around campfires and discussing lazy topics over bottles of beer. You ached for just a sip - just a single drop to roll down your tongue.

You had just reached the perimeter of the nomad camp when, like a star falling from the sky, a miniature explosion detonated just inches from your feet. As you helped and tipped sideways, collapsing in the sand, you realized it had not been an explosion, but a bullet landing before you in a warning. Your ears rang like bells as you feebly rolled onto all fours, your head spinning. The nomads were blurs of motion as they moved, shouting and calling commands, racing to and fro. They were preparing - for what? It was only you here.

Only parched, fried, dying you.

A croaked gasp was pulled from your cracked lips when a boot shoved you over, sending you onto your back. Not a moment later, the barrel of a rifle was shoved against your throat. The metal was cool. You fought against the instinct to wrap your hand around the barrel and pull it closer.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” spat the young woman at the other end of the rifle. “Pretty stupid to try and sneak up on us all by yourself. Tell me how many of you there are, and I might think about letting you keep your head.”

You blinked tiredly, the world going in and out of focus like a video with bad resolution, as two more men skidded to a stop beside the woman to peer down at you.

“Good shot, Panam,” said one.

“Mm,” agreed the other on her right. He brandished a slick pistol and aimed it at your middle, ignoring the way you gasped and cried silently for air, for water, for anything. “I wouldn’t have been so kind.”

You heaved in a dry breath, your tongue refusing to work. You would have cried out of pain, out of frustration and exasperation, but no tears were able to crawl into the corners of your eyes. You were sucked dry, with nothing left to give except the sweat rolling down your back and neck.

“How many of you are there?” the woman called Panam demanded again. She placed a heavy boot on your chest, restricting a bit of whatever airflow you had left, and your eyes widened. Scrabbling at her ankle, you kicked aimlessly as you battled to inhale. “Tell me!” The boot pressed further, and you sputtered out a dry squawk. You heard her pull the bolt of her rifle, felt the used cartridge bounce off your arm. “Last chance, you scav scum.”

“Panam!” There came a loud, booming voice that seemed to shake the ground beneath you, commanding respect and authority over all else surrounding you - even nature itself. The boot was lifted off your chest and you raised a trembling hand to your throat, taking a short, shaky breath in. Through the dizzying spinning of the world and the hammer-like thundering in your skull, you turned your head slightly and caught the hazy figure of a man striding toward the scene with broad, level shoulders and boots that were scuffed with years wear and tear. That was all you were able to catch before you covered your eyes with your hands and moaned for a breath, for a drink, for anything that would bring you from this dry hell.

“What was that shot?” asked the new man as he approached the others. “What’s going on here?”

“Stopped a scav from sneaking under our noses.” The toe of Panam’s boot nudged your leg. “Pretty lousy, scav, at that.”

You listened to that heavy pair of footsteps come closer until they were right beside your head. A hand, large and rough with calluses from hard work and manual labor, took your wrist and pulled it away from your face. Through your haze you could only just make out an arm lined with tattoos, a head full of hair like chestnut that draped over shoulders, and a well-kept beard. You opened your mouth to babble out an apology, to beg that they let you go, but all that came out was a raspy groan.

“Dammit, Panam, she’s not a scav.” The man released your arm, turned away from you. “She’s from the city. Look at her clothes. She’s not from out here.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” came the reply, almost childlike in its nature. “I see someone trying to get the jump on us, I take them out. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Protect each other?”

“Go back to your hut. No more guard duty for the rest of the night.”

“Saul-“

“Now, Panam.”

You listened to a hiss of fury and the sound of fading footsteps before slowly attempting to roll over onto your hands and knees. That unreasonable, delusional part of you was beginning to take over. Maybe if you were quick, you could sneak away…

Your feeble escape attempt was halted when that same hand as before grabbed your shoulder and rolled you back around onto your backside. You weren’t able to put up much of a fight, only gasp and paw at clothes and skin, as those hands wrapped under your shoulders to lift you up off the rocky, sweltering ground.

“Mitch,” said the man above you. Saul? “Grab her feet. Help me bring her up.”

Another pair of hands wrapped around your calves and suddenly you were lifted off the desert floor, being carried through the nomad camp like a prize from the latest hunt. You couldn’t do much but moan and gasp in short breaths, watching with dazed eyes as the sun finally disappeared behind the range.

“Where to? The doc’s?” said the man at your feet.

“My space,” said the other at your head. “She’s dehydrated to all hell and back. I’ve got the keys to our reserves in my truck.”

What could have been either seconds or hours later - you’d all but lost track of all meaning of time - the men carried you up a set of stairs leading into a hollowed-out semi truck. You saw the shapes and frames of a couch and a tool bench, a bed and a little folding table in the corner. They set you down on the bed, carefully lifting your feet comfortably out in front of you.

Then Saul, who had saved you from the young woman with a rifle, who had carried you all the way up into this truck, pulled a ring of keys from a space beneath the table and tossed them to his partner. “Go and fetch a whole jug,” he instructed, and within just a moment, Mitch was gone.

Saul disappeared, too. You watched as he exited the truck, shouting to his people, and attempted to sit up in the bed. You’d heard things about nomads - that they kidnapped people from the city and held them for ransom, that they ran with the coyotes and ate what they left behind. You’d never seen any evidence of these claims, but you weren’t about to find out.

You had just managed to swing one leg over the edge of the bed before Saul, hulking and sinewy in the doorway of the semi, reappeared. He gently, but firmly, pushed you back down onto the mattress and lifted your leg to where it had been.

“Easy, girl,” he said and leaned over you. You shut your eyes when he draped a cold, wet cloth over your forehead. “Keep still, hear? Don’t need you collapsing again on us.”

Mitch entered the truck lugging a large, clear jug of water at his side. At the sight of it, of what you’d been thinking of for hours, you pushed against Saul and attempted to tumble out of the bed yourself.

“Good to see she’s still got some fight in her,” Mitch joked as he popped the tab of the jug and handed it to Saul. “At least she ain’t gone mad to the heat.”

“Not yet, anyway.” The muscles in his bare arms flexing beneath the ink of his tattoos, Saul lifted the jug’s tab to your lips and tipped it back. When you weren’t able to lift yourself to meet it, he nestled a hand beneath your sweaty head and raised it himself.

The moment the cool liquid hit your mouth, you almost moaned aloud at how sweet and wonderful it tasted. It felt even better going down your throat. You couldn’t ignore the fact that the hand cradling your head was sending butterflies through your veins at the same time, but your sole focus was on the water trickling down your chin and onto your shirt. Gulp after gulp, you drank, refusing to let the nomad pull the jug away, even when you felt your belly fill.

“Careful,” said Mitch as Saul again tried to pry the container from your lips. “Don’t drink it too fast or else -“

Before he could finish, you suddenly shoved the jug away and made to lean over the side of the bed. With the toe of his boot, Saul hooked a metal container beneath the bed and whisked it out onto the open floor. Not a moment later, you hung over the edge of the mattress and vomited water and bile into the pan. The retches heaved through your body in an uneven tempo, your systems overwhelmed from having been dry to the bone to suddenly flowing over with water.

When you finally returned to dry heaving, shaking as spit up ran down your chin and nose, Saul retrieved the wet cloth from where it had fallen on the bed and used it to gingerly wipe your face clean. Your chest, soaked through your shirt from the runoff water, heaved for breath as you let him settle you back down and offer a few chaser sips of water to your lips.

“You’re alright,” Mitch said as you felt your face heat upon the realization of what you’d just done - in front of strangers, no less. “We‘ve all been there. Can’t say you’re a nomad without suffering a few heatstrokes.” He picked up the pan as if it were nothing, then clambered down the steps into the open night. “I’ll get the air conditioning going,” he called back in, then heaved the semi’s door shut.

Slowly, as if you were surfacing from being held underwater, you began to regain your senses. Understand what was going on, where you were. You were in the middle of a nomad camp, in a truck, alone with a man called Saul. And he was pulling off your shoes. Blinking through tired eyes, you watched the ceiling of the truck as you felt him peel off your socks, as well. Then he began to fumble with the button of your pants.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left to give, you thrashed like a cornered animal and cried out through your still-weary throat. Saul at once backed off, watching as you curled into yourself in the corner of the bed. Your eyelids were drooping, your arms and hands and fingers still shaking.

“Mmuh,” you mumbled over your dead tongue. You scooted further away when he took a step toward you. Fuck, the rumors had been true. They just wanted to use you and throw you back out into the desert when they were done. “Sta… sty’ back,” you warned, though you knew there was really nothing you would be able to do against him.

Saul raised a hand in a little surrender warning, keeping his short distance from your corner of the bed. “Easy, girl,” he said again. “Not going to hurt you.” He nodded with his head gingerly, a few strands of hair falling from his shoulder to his neck. “We need to get your clothes off. You’re not going to cool down any faster than spending a night out here in the Badlands. Your skin needs to breathe, get its bearings again.”

For a long while, you considered him. His eyes were dark and stormy, heavy with a thousand burdens and not enough solutions. His movements were authoritative and stern, yet mindful and careful all at once, like he knew the repercussions his very footsteps may leave behind.

He did not seem like the kind of man who would throw you to the jackals and vultures.

Slowly, tentatively, you unfurled yourself and eased across the bed. He took a few steps closer, gently easing you back onto your ass, and pulled your shirt over your head. He had been right, you found; the moment your shirt left your body, it felt as though you were able to breathe again. The sand prodding against your skin, the feeling of carrying around another ton - it all went away. Though your arms were shaking, you managed to lift up your hips so that he could slide your pants off your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

It would have felt strange being practically naked in front of a man you’d never met before - in front of a man who was standing so close that you felt his breath on your shoulder - but something within you felt slightly at ease. This man was taking care of you, inspecting the bruises along your arms and middle with a touch that just only ghosted your skin, gave you tiny sips of water - just enough to keep you on the edge, leaning forward for more.

After Saul had helped you wrap up in a sheet and left a mug of water where you could reach it, he took a seat on the couch facing the bed. When he sat, he let out a deep sigh, and you noticed he let his left leg straighten and relax while his rig remained bent and stiff. A bad joint, perhaps?

For a while, a long, still silence filled the belly of the truck. You took little drinks from the mug, keeping it close to your chest, your eyes trained on Saul’s fingers. A couple of rings adorned his knuckles, glinting in the light from the lamp sat beside the couch. His fingers were long and thick, rough with scars and calluses, each with a story of their own. You shifted, slightly ashamed, when a short rush of arousal shot to your core.

What kinds of things, besides tune-ups, and feeding his people, and firing a gun could those hands do?

“Thank you,” you found yourself saying, finally able to gain control of your tongue again. You swallowed thick and hunched your shoulders. “For helping me. I’m… I’m sure you have lots of other people to keep well-taken care of.”

Saul released a groan from deep in his chest, sounding akin to some kind of agreement. “I do,” he said, rubbing at his temple. “But just because someone’s not my people doesn’t mean I turn them away when they’re in need.“

Outside, someone had begun to strum a melody on a guitar. A number of voices sang along to a song you didn’t know, a harmony of deep and light and wonderful and awful.

These people weren’t savages or plunderers. They were friends. They were a family.

Perhaps… perhaps the rumors had been wrong, after all.

You took another sip of water and reached up to wipe your lip with your thumb. You found him watching your movements. “Listen, I’ll be out of your hair in a while. I just… I just needed to rest a while.”

Saul hummed again. “No,” he said in such a commanding tone you were at once inclined to agree with him. “You’ll stay here for the night. If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, we’ll take you back to town. We were heading there to stock up on supplies, anyhow.”

You said nothing at first. How incredibly scary this man had been at first, towering over you on the ground with those dark, broody eyes trained on your very soul. But now he was… rather charming. Dark and mysterious, sure, but no less attractive.

You realized you had been staring at him. And he had been staring at you.

Switching your gaze down to your mug of water, because you felt as though you’d blurt out all the filthy things you were thinking if you kept looking at him, you swallowed down the last few bits of sand sticking to your throat. “So, is that… Panam… is she your kid?”

The man before you gave a sort of scoff and a twitch of his lips - you’d hit a sore subject. “Something like that,” he answered shortly, then reached up and harrumphed as he flicked a piece of hair over his shoulder. “We picked her up years ago when she was young. Brought her up for a while. Recently, she’s started to push back. Question how things run around here.” He raised a hand and dropped it again, and it occurred to you that perhaps you were the first person he’d unloaded this burden on in a long time. “She doesn’t get that everything I do around here is for the best - for everyone. Even if it doesn’t align with her own morals.”

For a long while, silence enveloped the gutted belly of the truck. You set your mug down on the floor and hugged the sheet tighter around yourself. Outside, the song being played ended with a loud, overjoyed cheer from its singers. They all sounded so… happy. Content. At peace.

“Well,” you said slowly, hoping you weren’t crossing any lines, “I, uhm… I haven’t really been here lucid enough to think straight long, but… it seems like you’re doing something right.” When he settled his gaze upon you, you nodded to the door leading out into the night illuminated by song and campfire glow. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen so much… camaraderie before. This day and age, it’s kill or be killed, but you all…” You trailed off, shrugging your bare shoulders beneath the sheet. “You have each other. I can’t really talk much, but that seems like something to be proud of.”

Saul, for once in the short while you’d been sitting with him, seemed to be short of answers to your words.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline high that had been fueling your brain not too long ago, or maybe it was the feeling that spread throughout your abdomen when he looked at you, but something propelled you to scoot forward on the bed and try to rise to your feet.

Saul stood just as you climbed into a stand, reaching out to keep you down on the bed, but you reacted first. You stumbled forward on your still-wobbly feet and tumbled right into his broad chest. He exhaled a surprised grunt. You both landed back on the couch, only now you were straddling his thick, muscular thigh and your front was pressed against his without a sliver of space between you.

Your breaths each came out in puffs and pants, startled by the sudden fall. It wasn’t long before you each sprung into action.

He leaned forward to meet you halfway when you brought your lips toward his, locking your mouths together with the same kind of fervor you gave. His hands were firm but gentle all at once, mindful of the sore spots along your arms and middle, as if he’d memorized each and every place where a bruise blossomed. They eventually landed on your barely-clothed hips. While he busied himself, like an explorer mapping out new, unfamiliar terrain, you licked your tongue into his mouth and pulled him by his hair closer. He tasted of some musky liquor and a dense air you could not place. Rough and demanding, yet protective and heavy and like home - the way a leader should be.

When you finally pulled away from him to catch your breath, your chest now heaving and caving rapidly, Saul hummed lowly and nudged your forehead with his nose. “Ballsy, aren’t you, girl?” he said, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath fanning across your face. “Not a lot of people would shove their tongues down the throat of the leader of the Aldecados.” He took the point of your chin between his thumb and forefinger so that you peered up at him. “You’ve got courage. I admire that.”

By now, arousal had began to pool in the bottom of your belly like a coiled serpent, snapping and hissing to be set free. Your cunt ached, clenching around nothing, and you nearly moaned in relief when Saul shifted you over his thigh so that the rough material of his pants rubbed your clit through your panties just right. He noticed your reaction and hitched his leg slightly, causing you to bounce gently on his thigh. This time, a soft, quiet mewl did escape your throat.

Saul hummed and leaned forward to begin nipping and sucking love spots into the delicate skin of your neck. “Pretty girl likes getting off on my leg, doesn’t she?” he growled against the column of your throat. You gasped when he hitched his leg again, and a wonderful, delightful flood of leaden pleasure spread through your systems. “Do it, then. Show me just how tough you really are, baby.”

Who were you to object?

Clinging onto his muscular shoulders for support, you began rocking yourself against his clothed thigh, shifting and grinding so that your clit was stimulated in just the right way. Practically humping his hip, you let out soft, panting sighs and moans and mewls as you moved.

Saul’s hand moved around your back to unclasp your bra, moving you arms for just a fraction of a second so that he could pull it off and drop it to the floor. He pulled a long, high-pitched whimper from the bottom of your throat when he attached his lips to your nippe, beard scratching against the vulnerable skin of your chest. Pleasure like you weren’t sure you’d ever experienced coursed through you like fine whiskey or a static-infused drink from an overpriced club.

Fuck, this shouldn’t have felt this good.

But it did. It fucking did.

“Atta’ girl,” Saul muttered into the valley between your breasts when the rolls of your hips began to grow faster. He felt your arousal soaking through his pant leg, your panties completely ruined. You were chasing that high as your cunt clenched and you whined every time his lips pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses against your sternum. “Ride, cowgirl.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Saul,” you said, and repeated his name, that one word, that sounded like a chanted prayer now as you neared your end. That coil within you was tightening, that abused power source about to implode and take out everything with it. “Saul, Saul, Saul…!”

He pressed his lips flush against yours, hands splayed across the skin of your back, like he was shielding you from the rest of the world, claiming you. “Come on,” he breathed against your mouth. “Cum for me.”

You found you could not go against anything this man said.

With a shattered cry muffled by his shoulder, your hips stuttered and you hit your peak like a lone wanderer who never wanted to come down. You shoved your hips, your oversensitive clit, against his thigh, attempting to remain up in those clouds that felt you during your orgasm.

When you eventually came back around, you found Saul was pulling your hair from your sweaty face, whispering praise against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he said in that low, husky tone of his that sent your stomach flipping. “My good girl. Tamed already, aren’t you?”

You gave a weak, half-hearted agreement. He shifted his weight so that he now lay across the couch with his feet propped against the opposite armrest and your limp form sprawled across his front. He squeezed your hips, fingertips playing with the hem of your soaked panties.

It seemed an eternity of still, peaceful quiet had passed when Saul spoke again. “You got anyone back home waiting for you?”

“No,” you answered at once. Perhaps too quickly, too eagerly. “It’s just me.”

“Hmm.” For a moment, he seemed to consider, his gaze - now simmering down from their previous state of lust-fueled frenzy - stuck to your head as he carded through your hair. “Didn’t make what I’d call a good first impression,” he said, “but I could convince the others to clear a seat for you around the fire. Scrounge up a spare motor. You know how to ride?”

It took your short-circuited brain a long minute to comprehend what he was saying. He was inviting you to join his family - the Aldecados.

You thought. You had nothing back in the city - just a cheap, shitty apartment, a dead end job, and a stack of bills only growing by the day. Chaos. Havoc. But out here… there was everything you didn’t know. The unknown of what might come the next day. Sandstorms, and bandits, and everything else in between… but a family. People willing to watch your back without expecting anything in return. Friends and cousins and brothers and sisters.

A man who had just fucked you senseless, and even still now, saw something within you he thought worthy enough to travel with him and his nomads.

The answer came out easier than expected. “Yeah,” you said and smiled up at him. “I can ride.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Float

Author’s Note: This is the second part of mer-Nadesir’s fic! Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel 

Warnings: none

Summary: You meet up with The Night Lord you freed a little while ago.

You felt drawn back to the beach, since your encounter with the injured Night Lord. You'd done research on him after your initial encounter, and were quite surprised to read that Night Lords - at least according to the internet - were apparently viewed with deep and terrified suspicion from their allegedly violent and cruel nature. You wondered how accurate those accounts were - or if the people telling them had been taunting the mers in some way.

The Night Lord you'd encountered had been initially wary, but he'd been trapped and injured. He'd been flirty and grateful once you'd helped him get free, so not all of them were the nightmarish terrors of the deep that hysterical internet posts had ranted and raved about. Perhaps it was simply because the posters had approached the Night Lord in question incorrectly? Or maybe they'd been fucking around and found out that taunting the giant fish-man was a really bad idea, and went to whine about it online after managing to survive.

You'd not seen him again after that first encounter for over a month. Then again, from what you'd managed to gather, Night Lords seemed to prefer deeper waters and avoided most costal places unless they were having territorial disputes with different kinds of merfolk. No one could agree on how m any different kinds of merfolk there were, as they came in dozens of colors and patterns and species. You hoped that he was healing up well from the netting-wounds. 

The moon was full and hung high in the sky, and the stars shone beautifully. You'd debated for a while with yourself - as a medical professional, you could easily find work wherever it was you wanted to live, and the urge to stay in one of the small coastal towns along the coast was almost too much for you to handle. The ocean was fairly calm tonight, with the occasional rippling wave that washed up the beach. You quickly found that your feet led you to the water's edge, your sandals quickly getting wet as the warm waters lapped at your feet.

It would be really, really dumb to go swimming out in the ocean at night. You could so easily vanish beneath the waves, never to be seen or heard from again...

But still, as you looked out over the calm ocean waters, the desire to take off your clothes and go swimming out into the sea was nearly overwhelming. With how dark the night was and the brilliance of the stars, you wondered briefly if it would feel like you were swimming among the stars. 

As a child you'd wanted to know what it would be like to see those distant lights. To explore worlds beyond the Sol system. To explore the galaxy, but alas, the age of space exploration was not going to happen in your lifetime. Not for several generations at least.

You hardly notice where you are and what you're doing until a large, clawed hand lightly envelops one of your shoulders, a vaguely familiar voice calling out to you from behind and above you "It's not safe to go swimming at night, little mortal."

You blink and look up into the worried face of the handsome Night Lord you'd helped over a month ago. A small smile appears on your face as delight and relief flood through you. You reach up with one hand to touch his, lightly squeezing it "I... I know. But I really, really wanted to swim, for some reason. How are you? How have you been? Is it rude if I ask you what your name is?" You tell him your name, still beaming happily, genuinely delighted to see him again.

"I am doing well, and I have been teased by several of my older brothers for getting caught in one of the industrial nets, but I have also been learning how to better spot them and avoid them. I am Nadesir. We should head to the shore. Mortals like you do not swim very well, and there is an undertow in these waters that comes and goes unexpectedly." He responds, a small frown appearing on his face as he looks you over in concern.

"I... If you really think that's important. I'd rather stay out here for a little while, at least." You ask, pouting up at him a little, despite the fact that you know for a fact that he's right. You should go back up on the shore. But you really, really don't want to. A subtle itching that intensified and lowered at times that you'd managed to more or less ignore had finally, finally stopped. You were very unwilling to get back out of the water when that maddening itchiness had finally subsided. You were also admiring the way that the light of the moon highlighted his high cheekbones and made the endless inky pools that his eyes had turned into in the night were deep enough for you to happily drown in. 

"I... If you are sure. I will stay close by, in case something happens." Nadesir decides, still watching you with concern. He fidgets a little, pulling out a silvery-white bloom from one of his armor's pockets. "I... I found this a week ago and thought of you. Would... This is yours, if you want it."

An awed smile appeared on your face as you carefully took the flower and tucked it behind one of your ears, not really having a good place to put it, as you realized that you'd taken off your clothes in order to go swimming... Not that you found that you minded being naked in the warm waters. "Thank you, this is beautiful."

"Almost as much as you are..." He murmurs, something akin to reverence in his eyes as he looks down at you, awe and something softer in his eyes. 

"I... What? You... you're quite handsome, too." You respond, a warm blush appearing on your face as you lean into him, humming a little.

"Thank you." Nadesir rumbled, one arm gently wrapping around your waist as the two of you floated together in the ocean waters.

[eurovision-song-bracket]

Welcome to the Eurovision Song Bracket!

This will be a fairly large bracket, consisting of two "teams" of 68 songs for a total of 136 competitors!

The first team has been preselected, and will consist of all previous winners or popular vote winners if applicable.

This means that if your favorite song won, you do not need to submit them (a couple of exceptions apply, see list at the bottom/read more for details)

Submissions are closed!

Rules!

- Entries must have been a part of the main competition of Eurovision of any year (I might do a MGP mini bracket if the people want that)

- Once again, you do not need to submit winners, they are (mostly) automatically in. Again, see bottom for details and explanations.

- You may submit multiple songs, but please don't send the same song over and over.

- Propaganda is highly encouraged! There is a spot for it in the submission form, and adding it on to the poll itself or sending an ask is also allowed. You may send a DM, but I'll probably be slow to respond that way.

How it Works!

- There will be multiple brackets of 34 songs

- Each of the preselected winners will be randomly against one of the submitted songs. Pairings will be decided through number assignment and a random number generator.

- Vote for your favorite! I will include links to the songs in the poll so you can listen to both before voting. The winner will move onto the next round until we find the winner of that bracket.

- Once all brackets are complete, the winners of their individual brackets will go onto the finals to determine the (unofficial) Ultimate Eurovision Song Winner!

- There will be a preliminary around, as 1969 (hehe nice) had a four way tie, so we will need to determine which of those four will represent that year!

Tagging some other brackets to get the word out

@animalcrossingshowdown @ultimate-soup-showdown @least-sexy-man-competition @soulmatebracket @irlcats-bracket @little-cat-showdown @bestvegetablepoll @baby-brawl-bracket @died-but-not-dead-tournament @unusannusbracket

Click the read more for the list of songs that are automatically in the bracket!

(The colors are just to make it less of a wall of text and easier to read)

(Please let me know if a different color would work better)

1956 - “Refrain” by Lys Assia (Switzerland)

1957 - “Net Als Toen” by Corry Brokken (Netherlands)

1958 - “Dors, Mon Amour” by André Claveau (France)

1959 - “Een Beetje” by Teddy Scholten (Netherlands)

1960 - “Tom Pillibi” by Jacqueline Boyer (France)

1961 - “Nous Les Amoureux” by Jean-Claude Pascal (Luxembourg) 1962 - “Un Premier Amour” by Isabelle Aubret” (France)

1963 - “Dansevise” by Grethe and Jøren Ingmann (Denmark)

1964 - “Non ho l'età” by Gigliola Cinquetti (Italy)

1965 - “Poupée de cire, poupée de son” by France Gall (Luxembourg) 1966 - “Merci, Chérie” by Udo Jürgens (Austria)

1967 - “Puppet on a String” by Sandie Shaw (UK)

1968 - “La la la” by Massiel (Spain)

1969 – [FOUR WAY TIE – SPAIN UK NETHERLANDS FRANCE, PRELIM POLL] “Vivo Cantando” by Salomé (Spain) ; “Boom Bang-a-Bang” by Lulu (UK) ; “De Troubadour” by Lenny Kuhr (Netherlands) ; “Un jour, un enfant” by Frida Bocara (France)

1970 - “All Kinds of Everything” by Dana (Ireland)

1971 - “Un banc, un arbre, une rue” by Séverine (Monaco)

1972 - “Après Toi” by Vicky Leandros (Luxembourg)

1973 - “Tu te reconnaîtras” by Anne-Marie David (Luxembourg)

1974 - “Waterloo” by ABBA (Sweden)

1975 - “Ding a Dong” by Teach-in (Netherlands)

1976 - “Save Your Kisses For Me” by Brotherhood of Man (UK)

1977 - “L'Oiseau et l'Enfant” by Marie Myriam (France)

1978 - “א-ב-ני-בי / A-Ba-Ni-Bi” by Izhar Cohen and the Alphabeta (Israel)

1979 - “הללויה /Hellelujah” by Milk and Honey (Israel)

1980 - “What's Another Year” by Johnny Logan (Ireland)

1981 - “Making Your Minds Up” by Bucks Fizz (UK)

1982 - “Ein bißchen Frieden” by Nicole (Germany)

1983 -Si la vie est cadeau” by Corinne Hermès (Luxembourg)

1984 - “Diggi-Loo Diggi-Ley” by Herreys (Sweden)

1985 - “La det swinge” By Bobbysocks! (Norway)

1986 - “J'aime la vie” by Sandra Kim (Belgium)

1987 – “Laß die Sonne in dein Herz“ by Wind (Germany) [REPEAT WIN BY JOHNNY LOGAN(Ireland), USING 2ND PLACE]

1988 - “Ne partez pas sans moi” Céline Dion (Switzerland)

1989 - “Rock Me” by Riva (Yugoslavia)

1990 - “Insieme: 1992” by Toto Cutugno (Italy)

1991 – “Fångad av en stormvind” by Carola (Sweden)

1992 - “Why Me?” by Linda Martin (Ireland)

1993 - “In Your Eyes” Niamh Kavanagh (Ireland)

1994 - “Rock 'n' Roll Kids” Paul Harrington and Charlie McGettigan (Ireland)

1995 - “Nocturne” by Secret Garden (Norway)

1996 - “The Voice” by Eimear Quinn (Ireland)

1997 - “Love shine a Light” by Katrina and the Waves (UK)

1998 - “דיווה /Diva” by Dana International (Israel)

1999 - “Take Me to Your Heaven” by Charlotte Nilsson (Sweden)

2000 - “Fly on the Wings of Love” by Olsen Brothers (Denmark)

2001 - “Everybody” by Tanel Padar, Dave Benton, and 2XL (Estonia)

2002 - “I wanna” by Marie N (Latvia)

2003 - “Everyway That I Can” by Sertab Erener (Turkey)

2004 - “Wild Dances” by Ruslana (Ukraine)

2005 - “My Number One” by Helena Paparizou (Greece)

2006 - “Hard Rock Hallelujah” by Lordi (Finland)

2007 - “Молитва / Molitva” by Marija Šerifović (Serbia)

2008 - “Believe” by Dima Bilan (Russia)

2009 - “Fairytale” By Alexander Rybak (Norway)

2010 - “Satellite” by Lena (Germany)

2011 - “Running Scared” by Ell and Nikki (Azerbaijan)

2012 - “Euphoria” by Loreen (Sweden)

2013 - “Only Teardrops” by Emmelie de Forest (Denmark)

2014 - “Rise Like a Phoenix” by Conchita Wurst (Austria)

2015 - “Heroes” by Måns Zelmerlöw (Sweden)

2016 - “1944” by Jamala (Ukraine)

2017 - “Amar pelos dois” by Salvador Sobral (Portugal)

2018 - “Toy” by Netta (Israel)

2019 - “Arcade” by Duncan Laurence (Netherlands)

2020 – [CANCELLED]

2021 - “Zitti e buoni” by Måneskin (Italy)

2022 - “Стефанія / Stefania” by Kalush Orchestra (Ukraine)

2023 - “Cha Cha Cha” by Käärijä (Finland) [Second highest popular vote ever, also repeat win by Loreen(Sweden)]

[suvidrache]

maybe before

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 534 | Read it on AO3 | masterlist

Summary: you and hanzo play volleyball.

It wasn't often that Hanzo took vacations. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when he did take a vacation. Well, except for the time his son was born. Oh, and his marriage. So maybe he has taken a few vacations here and there, but those were long ago. He hadn't taken one yet with you. He was worried about his clan and who would watch over them during his leave. He didn't want to lose them again. He didn't want to lose you, either. It was a tough choice to stay with his clan or to leave with you… He looked out from where he sat. Down below, his clan was training. He looked over in the general direction of where his son and wife lay. Then, he looked over in the direction of where his home was that he shared with you. He breathed out slowly and turned his attention back to his clan. It would be a few hours before he climbed down and went to find you. He opted to walk in. Instead of teleporting, he knew that he sometimes scared you, especially when you weren't expecting him to show up.

"Y/N, I've thought about it some more, and I'd like to take a vacation. I can leave Haruto in charge of the clan until our return."

You smiled as you continued kneading the dough. You often made home-cooked meals.

"When would you like to leave?"

"After I've spoken to Haruto, but whenever you are ready."

"Alright, let me make dinner. Then we can pack afterward."

"Thank you, I'll go speak to Haruto." He teleported away while you continued making the food.

The next day arrived, and you were both ready to head out. Hanzo followed after you but stopped to look at the clan behind him. He breathed in, nodded once, and turned to continue following you. It was only a few days, and they would be just fine during his leave. There wasn't any danger recently. There was no reason to attack the Shirai Ryu.

It was mid-day when you arrived at your hotel, you set your luggage down, and Hanzo began to unpack his.

"Do you want to go to the beach or explore first?" You asked as you started to unpack your things as well.

"We could go to the beach."

"Have you ever played volleyball?"

"No, I haven't."

You nodded, and both of you changed into more appropriate beach attire. Then, you headed out while you explained to him how to play.

"That seems kind of easy." He said as he walked to his side of the court. You let him serve first, and the ball went straight over your head.

You gave the ball back to him and backed up this time, expecting the ball to land where it did once before. Instead, the ball landed just on your side of the net. You tried to go after it, but it was too late.

"Sorry." He said as he rubbed the back of his neck and gave a weak smile.

"It's alright, it's just a game." You said as you smiled and handed him the ball.

Hanzo would wind up winning the game.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @queendeeshorrorimagines, @sunmoongoddess, @phantomheiko, @imagineherbrightskies / Join my tag list here!

[bornforastorm]

wip tag from @majorbaby and @marley-manson and in honor of these beloved mashtuals here's a bit from something I'm tinkering on more than working on.

buuuut companion piece to BJ Goes to Maine is of course Trapper Goes to Maine, and here's a tiny little bit where they talk about Frank:

“I saw him at a conference about six months ago,” Trapper says, laughing. “You can’t imagine what it was like looking up across a room and pow, there’s old ferret face.”

Hawkeye laughs too, because he can imagine it. He can imagine it very clearly. Frank’s tight, pursed expression, his soft chin, his blue eyes. Of course in his imagination Frank is still in his fatigues. It’s hard to imagine him in civilian clothes, even now. 

“I went over to say hello and he tried to run away from me.” 

“But you caught him?”

“In a net. Cornered him. I asked about you.” 

“Oh.” 

“You know what he said?” 

Hawkeye shakes his head. He and Frank didn’t exactly part ways on good terms, which suited Hawkeye fine at the time. It still does, all things considered. All the pity in the world couldn’t overcome the annoyance over Frank’s promotion and the anger that he’d been sent home while, again, Hawkeye had been left in Korea. 

“He said that I broke your heart. That I really hurt you, leaving like I did, and that I should be ashamed of myself.”

The smile, the light laugh, is still there but Trapper’s faking it now. Hawkeye is somewhat moved by Frank’s defense of him. Who would’ve guessed? He’s almost sorry for all those times he prayed Frank was getting elbowed in the ribs by his boney wife. 

“Wow,” Hawkeye breathes. He wants to keep laughing but he can’t make himself. He says, “He was right. For once.”

The air goes out of the room. “Hawk, I’m so sorry, I—“ 

Hawkeye puts a hand over his mouth. The time for apologies is long past. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now. Frank is somewhere far, far away.” 

The smile returns, all warmth. Hawkeye's favorite kind. He can feel it against his fingers. 

Trapper says, “He always liked you.” 

“Did he? I don’t remember it like that.” 

“He did. He wanted you to like him more than anything, I think.” 

“Too bad his personality was so rotten.” 

“Yeah, too bad.” 

Hawkeye talks about those last few months with Frank, when Margaret was engaged. How he was almost part of the gang, sometimes. Almost a pal, almost willing to play along on a gag. Almost so pathetic he earned pity and kindness. Almost.

Talking about that time leads easily into talking about BJ. And so Hawkeye talks about BJ— a lot.

[sammywolfgirl]

Can you share some String Gummy headcanons? :3

A perfect opportunity to spread my feral string gummy propaganda again!

I say feral but more in a way he kinda acts like a weirdo but doesn’t seem to acknowledge his behavior can be seen as weird.

But also he can be feral I mean you gotta be a little if you consistently try and shoot a net gun at a fucking time god who can age you to death if they wanted.

He kind of has shit standards on food since he survived off rations and occasionally sandwiches in the broken future so he’d eat burnt food and not think it’s a big deal, he kinda has a thing about waisting food, he hates it.

Croissant made him spaghetti once and he cried(pos)

He likes tinkering on his gun and mechanical stuff, just taking it apart and putting it back together. He likely picked up that habit from the Director because she definitely had a nervous habit of that. He took apart his microwave once and put it back together.

One time he ate a screw. He was tired and thought it was food. Now some of the menders dare him to eat other metal stuff. And the mad lad fucking did it.

He was told to stop when one of the menders tried to dare him to eat plexiglass and timekeeper called foul.

String gummy will wrestle if asked to do so. He actually really likes the idea of sparing or boxing but he’s nervous about asking because he’s pretty strong and has training that’s above average compared to the other agents, and he gets self conscious about standing out.

The runners like playing games with string gummy, they have one that’s a modified version of tag, where string gummy is it and after a certain amount of runners are tagged they can turn on string gummy and try and wrestle him to the ground. It’s great.

String gummy would make bank at poker. This man does not emote to anything. Not for lack of trying he’s just got so many issues and is traumatized(tm)

For real though he just represses his emotions a lot, he doesn’t need to anymore but it’s hard to break the habit once you’re out of that crisis situation.

String gummy would kill timekeeper for a corn chip but unfortunately croissant is friends with them so he doesn’t. But he (half seriously) states that if anyone is going to kill timekeeper it’ll be him.

Nobody’s sure how serious of a statement that is but timekeeper is weirdly endeared by it, like she went “you promise :3?”

And then string gummy three a gear at them and she left while giggling.

String gummy is very kind by nature he’s just got so many levels of social anxiety and lack of social skills he tends to come off as rude or cold. He’s working on it.

Walnut and coffee candy are cookies he’s decided he’d kill for. If anything happens to those scrunklys he’s going to raise hell.

[dukeofdumbass]

hello! i was going through my ao3 bookmarks the other day and i noticed that all of the ones written by you had been archived into a collection, inaccessible. Can I ask why? Is it just a temporary precaution, or are they gone for good?

HI!!!!!! i'm so sorry for causing any inconvenience - as it happens, as of just a couple hours ago, before i logged back into Tumblr, all of the works have been unarchived. whenever my works do go into an archive collection, there is a sort of safety net in that i'm too obsessive/compulsive to actually delete them from Ao3, because that means that all their stats and comments disappear too. something something media/data preservation, something something the work is really only complete to me once i post it (my spreadsheet more or less ensures that...).

now. i'm gonna soapbox on your lovely ask. i am constantly editing my Ao3 bio trying to say something like this...

as to why: i've just put a lot of pressure on myself, starting back when there was rather a lull in TTGC fic (my longest fic was in the works for a couple months before i made my Ao3 account in mid-May of 2021), to sort of be The Author in the [Xeno] tag(s) who has all the best concepts and ships and interpretations and style, consistently, universally. i want to appeal to everyone! i want everyone to love me! i want everyone to respect me! i want everyone to smile when they see my username pop up YET AGAIN in the tags. i want to be recommended! i want to be remembered... i'm not on Twitter so much anymore, and the culture's obviously quite different here, so how do i even ensure that people who don't browse the tags know who i am? hough...the impossible task... so, i have only continued to experience that pressure in comparing myself to other creators (writers/artists) who are "less online" than i've been at points but have "better" work in terms of length, range, appeal, quality, imagination/esotericism/divergence, themes/mood/gravity, self-indulgence, representation...you name it. newsflash for me: that's just not a thing! it can't be!! fanwork is as varied and personal as each and every person who's ever experienced media properties and expressed their thoughts in any medium or forum. i seek out other creators/fans who like the same elements as i do (all minoade fans, you're on my list) specifically to converse with them and conquer my feelings of inadequacy head-on, and when i find myself scared to join a conversation with those who have become my best friends (or speculating from afar on ex-friends from whom i just grew apart, for these reasons or others) because i feel like i'll ruin the "quality" of the conversation...it's really not a good feeling. when i'm really feeling like a fraud and an intrusion, away go the fics...

all that to say: if you create something, if you think something, if you love something, i love you. even if it's really hard and scary, i'll make myself do it. that's what i want my fandom experience to be about <3

(but most importantly THANK YOU for asking - i am glad that i didn't see this before deciding to re-reveal the works, because it honestly might have spooked me, but seeing it now lets me know that it was the right decision :)

[ksmutsociety]

Frequently Asked Questions

What is K Smut Society?

We are an exclusive 21+ collective for smut writers of male kpop artists and groups.

Do I need to be a member of your network to use your tag?

Yes.

Can I join the net's discord server if I am not a member?

No, our server is only for network members.

As a member, do I need to join the discord server?

Yes, joining is mandatory.

Are you accepting affiliate applications?

Yes, please refer to the very bottom of our network rules post to learn more.

Do I have to notify anyone if I change my url or go on hiatus?

Yes we require all members to let us know about a url change or a hiatus. Please inform us via the updates channel in our server, or send us an ask via our tumblr inbox.

How will I know when the net has added my fic to the queue?

Our main blog will like your fic to notify you when it has been added!

Why hasn’t my work been reblogged yet?

This could be due to many reasons regarding either rules or tumblr's updates, send one of our admins a message and we'll let you know the exact reason.

Why wasn’t I accepted?

If your application to join our society was denied you will be given an exact reason once our application period is closed. In most cases, you will be advised to apply again during the next round of applications once the issue for denial has been improved/corrected.

How do you decide who is accepted and who isn't?

This comes down to many things, including the fics you've provided in your application form for us to review, your answers to important questions in the application, your blog, etc.

Is my acceptance probability higher if I have a lot of notes/followers?

No, the biggest factor is the quality of your fics. While we're happy for you to have a lot of notes on your posts and followers on your blog, that unfortunately will not be a deciding factor if you will or won't be accepted.

How are the featured fics chosen?

The featured fics page is updated monthly with fics from our society members (members can choose to keep their current featured fic up each month or replace it with a different fic of theirs). We have a channel in our discord server that handles the swap!

Why does the network only accept those 21+?

The plain and simple answer is that we decided to keep it 21+. As a team of older writers, this is an age of users we are comfortable interacting with and believe will provide content that is up to our network standards. We know very well that 18 to 20-year-old writers can also offer great fics, but there are plenty of communities and networks that currently cater to those ages (as well as younger users), but a very few that are exclusively for those 21+.

Why does your tags page only show a select number of kpop groups?

This is just the base that we have accounted for before our launch, if we see that our society members are sharing fics that include other male kpop groups that are not listed we will definitely add them! Our tags page is meant to be updated and added to with time.

If your question wasn't answered here, please send us an ask or message an admin!

[womangreys]

Reditr fullscreen

#Reditr fullscreen how to

#Reditr fullscreen software download

#Reditr fullscreen install

#Reditr fullscreen utorrent

Live notifications (messages, replies etc.

Custom columns (follow friends, multiple subreddits etc.).

User tagging system (give users multiple tags & synchronizes).

Search all of Reddit com links Subreddits can now be sorted by 'controversial' Browsing Tips Redd Flow - Reddit Image Viewer Or drag this bookmarklet.

View post/link contents and comments simultaneously Analyze and track your Instagram account Next Tip Skip Tutorial Skip Tutorial Reditr - Bring Reddit to your Desktop Hi Redditor.

Import tags with RES (Reddit Enhancement Suite).

Highlight new comments since last visit.

Quickly view your Reddit browsing history.

Navigate through comments intelligently with many sorting options added ontop of Reddit's defaults.

Automatic draft saving- never lose what you've typed on Reddit again.

Instantly reply to any message or post you see without leaving the page.

View one subreddit in great detail via stream interface.

css/fullscreen.css: (:-webkit-full-screen): page/Quirks.cpp.

View multiple subreddits at once via column interface Revert fullscreen CSS quirk for add width and height style to fullscreen.css.

PSA: If you downloaded "GifCam" (a program that was posted in /r/software twice now), you might want to scan your computer.Desktop application developed for Reddit with an intuitive column design with fast browsing for your endless entertainment needs. So I used WordWeb Free for a year and today after asking me a question about how often I fly, it pulls this on me

#Reditr fullscreen software download

Same 33 tabs opened in Chrome, Firefox and Operaįirefox 4 is here, let's see how it's going in real time.ĭ Bundling Adware With Free Software Download this stock image: Reddit App, social network, app icon, screenshot, smartphone, detail, full screen - 2BX1KGH from Alamys library of millions of. Is there a minimal Torrent program?ĭAE find this incredibly annoying with Windows? HoverZoom (The Chrome Extention Many Redditors Use) has been selling your private browsing information to an Advertising Agency zip compression included in every version of Windows beyond that one released in 2001, who would benefit from downloading Winzip? I still see this software from time to time on computers I'm repairing for friends/relatives/friend's relatives. Why does Winzip still exist? More importantly, who in

#Reditr fullscreen install

This is why I install iTunes on a virtual machine Now I have to get rid of this "sweetpacks" bullshit. Remember back in the 1990s when an an entire industry was built up around people not turning off their computer monitors? Those were good times.īest License Agreement I have Seen to Dateįuck C|NET and - It Still Installed Adware that MSE CaughtĬnet is installing crapware even if the user clicks 'decline'. See ya later, Avast! I don't want or need this from my antivirus program.

#Reditr fullscreen how to

NSFW John McAfee explains how to uninstall McAfee Antivirus (x-post from r/sysadmin)į.lux - helps you relax and sleep better by changing your monitor's color temperature as the day goes on

#Reditr fullscreen utorrent

UTorreus?.the downfall of uTorrent maybe imminentĭear Software Companies: stop using my Documents folder as your own personal temp folder! Future plans: I have a few more ideas floating in my head to use this system to make multiple monitor gaming just work on Linux, by making your primary x session stop using your first display, then running a separate x session with the full screen game in the new display. No, I wasn't doing anything important apple. A separate X server will always be fullscreen with no fuss. Infuriating! It's like playing russian roulette! before I realized this is my file searching program. Spybot displayed this lovely messageĭ is now wrapping downloads with their own installer, which adds a browser toolbar and changes the default search engine to Bing My school's mandatory anti-virus made me uninstall Spybot.

[lderthnbmbs]

i’m just glad you’re around ☼

summary: a sleep-deprived and beyond exhausted brain isn't the best at remembering things, like the weekly movie night hoseok has with his roommate every thursday. [ wc: 2k ]

pairing: Jung Hoseok | J-Hope x Min Yoongi | Suga // SOPE MY BELOVED

tw: none!

a/n: happy reverse bday gift from me to you! feedback appreciated, can send here or comment on ao3 <33

song pairing: every time around - vansire

-- ❝ read it here on ao3! ❞

[itsclydebitches]

I mentioned in the tags of a recently reblogged post that I had Opinions™ about the “OFMD fandom is racist because they’re interpreting Ed as illiterate” take that’s been gaining traction lately, so I finally decided to slam those opinions into a post. Specifically, I want to list the textual details that made me, personally, come to the conclusion that Ed is (likely) illiterate as a means of pushing back against this growing idea that anyone who crafts meta under that assumption, includes it as a characterization in fics, uses it as a means of theorizing about season two, etc. is automatically coming from a place of racism... rather than, in actuality, a pretty solid canonical interpretation. So some things this post is not includes:

A claim that OFMD/fandom in general isn’t racist in other respects. I’m speaking solely about this one example.

A claim that Ed is definitely, 100%, no room for discussion illiterate. I believe it’s a likely possibility based on what we’ve seen, but the show hasn’t provided confirmation one way or the other.

An attack against any headcanoning. Fans are free to imagine up and/or hope for whatever they like, regardless of how persuasive a reading others find it to be.

Okay, I’m doubting my ability to string this all together with halfway decent transitions right now (the heat is making my brain buzz like TV static), so let’s just stick to a list form.

1. Lucius Establishes That Illiteracy is the Norm in Pirate Culture

First off, OFMD introduces class differences in the pilot episode by having Stede gush about the “full library” he has on board... to his personal scribe... who is writing down his thoughts and adventures purely for vanity’s sake (the fact that they’re later used to save Stede’s life is a separate matter from his intentions here), only to suddenly get hit with the knowledge that no one else on the ship can read.

“That’s not... is that true?” he asks, dumbfounded, and then Stede answers his own question with a rather distasteful scoff. Lucius responds with a look that I can only affectionately caption as, ‘This bitch.’ 

(I am also once again apologizing for the horrendous ‘screenshots’ taken with my phone.) 

All of this is deliberate. We’re setting up the dichotomy of pirate vs. gentry culture, as well as one of Stede’s major flaws. Namely, using the privilege of his upbringing as a crutch/personal safety net (with a side of that arrogant superiority: “Don’t debase yourself for a man who doesn’t even have a tureen on board!”). This is why Oluwande and Jim need to explain that for them, piracy isn’t a fun, midlife crisis and Stede comes to the realization, “I’m not a pirate, I’m an idiot.” Wealth is why he’s able to run from Ed the moment his anxiety gets the better of him, hurting him and Mary in one fell swoop when he shows back up all, ‘I’ve decided to be your husband again the same way I decided to be a pirate. Everyone bow to my whims and the privilege that allows me to enforce them!’ The ability to pay wages and read bedtime stories is what keeps Stede’s mutiny on hold for so long (a sharp contrast to Izzy who has no such luxuries to offer as a way of offsetting his own, difficult personality), Stede’s gentlemanly demeanor (born of a lifetime of social education) is what first draws Ed to him, then it’s his material wealth, and finally Stede giving up his fortune to return with only a dinghy and the clothes on his back is the sign of emotional growth.

Literacy isn’t the only marker of Stede’s privilege—far from it—but it is a major one and it’s important for setting up this contrast that drives much of the character work. Yes, Lucius is technically wrong about being the only other member of the crew who can read, though it’s clear why he came to that conclusion when Jim was pretending to be mute and couldn’t just say, ‘Hey, I can read and write too.’ Beyond that one mistake though, we have no reason to doubt Lucius’ claim. Not when the group is worried about who will continue their bedtime stories if Captain is dead and Lucius sucks at the voices. Don’t we think someone else would have spoken up to solve the dilemma if they could? More importantly, revealing that actually more of/most of the crew can read would severely undermine that thematic work of Stede’s upbringing—and that goes double for the man who represents the pinnacle of pirate culture: Blackbeard himself. We see through our flashback that Ed does not come from a place of privilege, which includes both education and material wealth based on how the show has defined privilege via Stede. Though it’s hardly impossible for Ed to have picked up reading later in life while still grappling with the trauma of growing up poor, for me there’s nothing to indicate that. Far from it: the show goes out of its way to emphasize all the ways in which Ed and Stede contrast one another, with Stede’s privilege—reading included—presented as markers of a life and emotional expression that Ed simultaneously longs for, yet feels that he’s undeserving of.

2. Ed is Shocked By the Amount Stede Has Read

When Ed is presented with Stede’s library he acts like a man who has never had access to so many books before. “Incredible,” he whispers, staring at the shelves in awe.

Except then Ed goes on to specify what exactly he’s in awe of and it’s not the books themselves. “You’ve read all of these?” he asks Stede, the ‘all’ emphasizing his shock that any one man (even in his forties) could have gotten through this many volumes. Ed doesn’t act like someone impressed with the beauty of the library itself—like we might see if he too was a reader and was simply impressed by the pretty bindings—but rather at Stede’s ability to read any library, but particularly one of this size. When Stede says that these are just his favorites, Ed gives a little huff of stunned disbelief. These are not the reactions of a man who frequently keeps books in his own cabin to peruse. Rather, they’re the reactions of someone who hasn’t read much himself, if anything at all.

In addition, Ed doesn’t engage with the text when Stede hands him the book. I’ve seen a couple people say that Ed can clearly read because he knew that was a picture of himself, but really, it’s not a hard thing to deduce. Even if Stede hadn’t led with this being something he thinks Ed will enjoy—AKA, it’s likely something about you—for all the fantasy details of nine guns and snake-like hair, Blackbeard is pretty distinctive in his look. That’s that point. He has long hair, a massive black beard, dresses all in leather, and is depicted with pirate-y things like ships and treasure. You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who that’s supposed to be an illustration of. The point though is that there’s a page of text to the left and, more importantly, a big title claiming he’s “The Mad Devil Pyrate Blackbeard,” yet Ed doesn’t take issue with the “mad” or the “devil” part. He jumps straight to looking at the image itself, despite the writing being just as valid a detail to get angry over as the nine guns.

3. Ed Treats The Books He Comes Across as Disposable

Going off of his reaction to Stede’s library, I think it would still be possible to argue that Ed is primarily impressed with the number of books he possesses (another kind of material privilege) if we didn’t see Ed get access to a huge number of books and immediately discard them. In “The Best Revenge is Dressing Well,” they raid the vessel where Stede finds several shelves of books, enough that he also refers to it as a “library.” This tells us then that most ships probably have at least a couple books on board and many, like this one, might have a big selection. So if Ed had wanted a library like Stede’s, he could have easily gotten one. He’s Blackbeard and he’s been looting ships for several decades at this point. The only reason why someone that impressed with Stede’s books would pass off so many opportunities to get his own would be if he doesn’t have a use for them, especially when books don’t carry the same toxic masculinity implications as a cashmere scarf does. Blackbeard, the legend, should be able to read with a safety that he couldn’t, say, dress in a flowery robe and recite poetry. Books are a fairly safe form of expression for a pirate (and entertainment too, something Ed lacks!) yet he doesn’t make use of them.

Instead, the way Ed acts here heavily implies to me that a) he can’t read (or can’t read well) and b) he’s feeling insecure about it. He snaps that this isn’t “how raiding works” when Stede says he’s replacing the books he’s taken with ones he’s already read, despite the fact that Ed has been pretty chill for the rest of the attack and, notably, usually likes Stede’s eccentricities. The most likely reason why he’d suddenly frown at Stede not raiding 'properly’—in a relationship where Stede’s new way of doing things is usually exciting and fascinating to Ed—is if Stede’s book focus is dredging up feelings of inadequacy. Ed opens the book, but flips through it in a way that shows a distinct lack of interest... or an inability to read it. He tosses it aside. Then he slaps the rest of the books out of Lucius’ hands. On its own this interaction might imply that Ed is disdainful of reading in general, but following how enamored he is with Stede’s personal library and his ability to work through it, the scene instead implies illiteracy. Here, Stede is enthusiastic about something Ed can’t share, on an outing where Ed is supposed to be teaching him, so he goes hard on how “raiding works” and makes it clear that books—these useless objects to him—aren’t worth picking up. Drop them and go shove a knife near a guy’s eyeball instead.

4. Ed Signs the Treaty With an ‘X’

I don’t actually have that much to say about this scene (in regards to literacy, anyway), simply because the ‘X’ alone is the big takeaway. I’m sure by now we’ve all seen the tweet claiming that an ‘X’ was used by indigenous people as a form of protest against colonizers and the historical accuracy of that aside (it’s not a discipline I’m at all educated in, but others have pushed back against both OP’s interpretation of the book’s thesis as well as whether this intersects with Māori culture), that’s simply not the most obvious implication here. We know based on interviews that the writers have unintentionally included racial coding in other parts of the show—making the men of color work during Izzy’s brief stint as captain being one of the most well known. That wasn’t meant to be an indicator of racism, just a combination of Nairn having a bad back and dumb luck regarding who was staged to do the work—so this wouldn’t be the first time that fans have come to a very different conclusion than the writers intended. Ultimately, I think it’s FAR more likely that an American writer used a well-known means of conveying illiteracy, as seen throughout American popular culture, in a show that is not at all concerned with historical accuracy... than it is that he included a very subtle, historical allusion to indigenous protest and attached that to a character whose ability to know about that and culturally benefit from it are questionable at best. Though, as said at the start, headcanoning is fantastic and adds a wonderful depth to Ed’s character, from a canonical standpoint this feels like an Occam’s Razor situation to me: the simplest explanation is the most likely.

5. The Show Doesn’t Shy Away From Establishing Who Can and Can’t Read

This is a minor point, but it helps solidify all of the above. We’re told that Stede can read. We’re told that Lucius can read. Again, those are important skills used to separate them from the rest of pirate culture. We learn in a surprise twist that Jim can also read, write, and they’re not actually mute. The show then heavily implies that Izzy can read by a) giving him a voice-over similar to Jim’s (even though we never see what he might be writing in) and b) having him spend time in Stede’s library before the fuckery and then again, this time actually looking through the books (compared to Ed’s disorganized flipping/discarding) and finding an image of Blackbeard all by himself (compared to Stede doing that for Ed). Sure, we could theorize that Izzy just happened to stumble across a book about Blackbeard, maybe because Stede has so many in his collection, and he’s only looking at pictures/pretending to read in the shots where he has a book in hand.. but again, the simplest explanation feels the most persuasive to me. The point being that the show usually makes it very clear who can read and who cannot, with those in the gray area nevertheless leaning hard in one direction. Izzy leans hard into ‘literary.’ Ed does not.

Finally, I want to quickly address a couple of arguments I’ve seen pop up over the last couple of months:

1. The Real Blackbeard was Able to Read (+ You Have to Read to Sail a Ship)

Any and all takes along these lines are immediately suspect in my mind because they’re rooted in historical accuracy... and ignore the fact that OFMD is not historically accurate. At all. The real life Blackbeard did not fall in love with Stede Bonnet. The ship runs on gay sex and story time, not legitimate sailing techniques. Any argument that begins with “But the real Blackbeard...” or “But in real life you have to...” falls flat because this is very much not the real Blackbeard and the plot is in no way bound by realism. I mean, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill. I think it’s fun to play thought games like “What if Ed and Izzy run their ship aground like they did in real life and that becomes a callback to the second episode?” but there’s a difference between fun theorizing about what random events the show might include for the laughs and trying to use historical accuracy as a form of evidence in metas. I mean, Buttons is out here communicating with seagulls and casting hexes so that Calico Jack (presumably) dies via cannonball. When your story is that untethered from reality, any claims based in realism hold little value imo. Ed being able to read because the real Edward Teach could read is no more likely than Ed dying a horrific death at... [checks Wikipedia] hmm. A year after the events of the show start. Should be happening any episode now! 

2. Ed is Able to Read Music

Honestly, as someone with a 2,000 book library and no ability to read music, I’m not sure how one relates to the other, but a couple times now I’ve seen people claim that because Ed plays the harpsichord at the party, he must know how to read. Putting aside the strange conflation though, Ed isn’t reading any music here. He plays solely from memory and, given what else we see of his talents, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ed had simply memorized a few shanties over the years. He’s already learned the shape of the clouds. He dutifully repeats Stede’s words after he’s corrected on the scarf’s fabric—“An exquisite cashmere.” Though he hasn’t got it all down yet, Ed is also well on his way to learning all the insane spoons and forks involved in fine dining. The guy’s got a good head for recalling information, which to me is an entirely separate skill from the specific ability to interpret words on a page.

3. Ed Read the Placards During Dinner

Does he though? The scene begins when Ed is already seated at the table and though he does look towards the placard that says he’s Godfrey’s guest, I interpret that more for the audience’s benefit than anything else. After all, Ed is already sitting down. He knows where he’s supposed to be. Why would he need to re-read his own placard? Despite the glance in that direction, it looks like an establishing shot to set the scene. So then how did Ed know where to sit? Idk, any way someone knows where to sit without looking at their placard. Maybe one of the servants showed him. Maybe another party-goer shooed him into his designated seat. Ed acts lost and confused the whole time, looking in random directions and muttering about snail forks. He doesn’t act like someone who chose this spot confidently, nor does he act like someone who can use reading as a skill to assist him in his anxiety. That is, he doesn’t look for and find Stede’s placard to ensure they’re seated together and he doesn’t realize he’s next to the touchy woman until it’s too late.

4. Finally: How Could Ed Have Drawn an ‘X’ If He Doesn’t Know How to Read?

Because an ‘X’ is just two crossed lines that might not have any meaning to him beyond, ‘This is what illiterate people do to sign their name.’ There’s a huge gap between understanding the ‘X’ as a symbol for this particular situation and knowing how to apply it—along with 25 other letters—to read a language. I can draw the Superman ‘S’ (not an ‘S’!), but that doesn’t mean I can read Kryptonian. I can also recite the Spanish alphabet from middle school, but that doesn’t mean I remember how to apply it after years without practice. Humans are really good at tying signified concepts to signs and an ‘X’ isn’t exactly the most difficult sign to memorize. Of course, it’s also possible that Ed knows his letters, but not how to read Stede’s books. Illiteracy isn’t a black and white state of being: Ed may understand the ‘X’ only as a symbol of agreement, or as a letter, or as a part of a couple words. I feel like the fandom is approaching this as an either/or situation—you can read or you can’t—rather than a very complicated skill that takes years to master, with everyone continuing to learn as time goes on. You think I remember every grammatical rule in the English language? Or that I know the meaning of every word I come across? Or even how to pronounce them? You think I can switch to a culture I’m not a part of—an online space, an academic discipline, a friends’ text exchange—and read through it without stumbling on words, acronyms, and concepts I’ve never encountered? Just as there’s a huge range within my literacy, there’s the possibility for an equally huge range within Ed’s illiteracy too. Maybe he can’t read at all. Maybe he can recognize Godfrey’s name after seeing it on the invitation card. Maybe he can only write his name, but chose not to. Maybe he can do all that, but can’t manage the dense text of Stede’s books. Maybe he can read a bit, but can’t manage the fancy script of the gentry. Maybe the vocabulary is an obstacle. Maybe he learned a long time ago and, like my Spanish, has since lost it. There are a lot of options here that would fall under the large umbrella of 'Ed is illiterate.’

All of which is just to say: those of us working with an illiterate Ed in metas, fanfics, and the like didn’t pull that idea out of thin air and we definitely didn’t hit on it because Ed isn’t white. It’s a reading that the show is very much pointing towards and even if it’s proven wrong in season two, that doesn’t erase the strong implications we got at the start.Yes, there’s a lot wrong with fandom—I’d never deny it—but that’s not going to improve if people put their energy towards pushing inaccurate, but very satisfying claims. It’s a lot easier (and makes people feel good about themselves) to make blanket claims about how Ed Not Being White + Illiterate Interpretations = Racism... but that ease and feelings of superiority don’t make it true. Like the discourse over using any shortened version of Oluwande’s name, or the desire to saddle the antagonist (Izzy) and any fans who like him with accusations of racism, the fandom is looking for easy, black and white rules to avoid being #Problematic. But OFMD is too complicated for that—fandom is too complicated for that—and even if it wasn’t, making up nefarious motivations for character interpretations doesn’t achieve a damn thing.

[tenelkadjowrites]

Addicting Kitten Part Two - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

This is an Ateez fic.

MASTERPOST HERE.

Summary: After an intense encounter with Seonghwa, you don’t want to end up just another name on his list. But attempting to avoid him leads to falling further down the rabbit hole.

Genre and warnings: smut. goth corrupter seonghwa with innocent reader. fem pronouns. reader is called “kitten”. dirty talk. face time/phone sex. cum eating.

Word count: 3,323.

Tag List: @multistan-net - @chronosavrus - @gyubaby - @ayoo-bangtan - @sktbzc0re

(this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.)

          The TV has been on for hours although you haven’t been paying attention to it. It is past midnight now, the moon hangs heavy in the sky, and you keep staring vacantly out of your bedroom window.

          Your friends went to the club tonight, but you lied and said you weren’t feeling well. The truth was that the idea of seeing Seonghwa, possibly with someone else, left you with such anxiety and nerves that you decided to avoid it completely. Your roommate is gone too, over at their significant other’s place for the night.

          In the week since your car broke down and you ended up at Seonghwa’s, it quickly became the only thought in your head. It was difficult not to dwell on his appearance, the way your body responded to his touch, the pleasure he gave you, and him admitting that he had ulterior motives for bringing you to his place.

          You should dislike Seonghwa for lying. You should be embarrassed at how you allowed him to go down on you when you hardly knew him. Seonghwa was right – you were a “good girl” and you played by the rules. Being with him like that went against everything you did previously.

          So, then why did you keep hoping he was going to contact you? And he could, in fact, contact you too…

          …Because after he dropped you off, you discovered that he had put his number in your phone as Bad News 💋. You assume that he had taken yours as well. But after no contact the entire week from him, you couldn’t bear to face him at the club, worried you were just another name on his list.

          You wish that you could stop thinking about him. Seonghwa and his stupid goth makeup and clothes, those amazing cheekbones, the cigarette smell that clung to everything, the filthy way he spoke that turned you on, his tongue against –

          Okay, okay, calm down. Your thoughts are once again running ahead of you. Frustrated, you groan into your pillow, hating yourself for being so predictable. What are you expecting? Seonghwa to call you, ask you on a date? He said it himself that he doesn’t do stuff like that. You dislike when your head starts running in circles like this.

          At some point, mercifully, you doze off, jolting awake only when your phone buzzes on the night table. Bleary eyed, the time on your clock now says 1:42 in the morning. You reach for your phone, expecting it to be one of your friends telling you they got home safely…

          Only to see it is a text from Seonghwa. Sitting straight up in bed, you unlock your phone and click on the text anxiously, wondering why he is messaging you in the middle of the night.

          “Didn’t see you tonight.” is all it says.

          Chewing on your bottom lip nervously, you reply, “Wasn’t feeling well.” You lower the phone, too nervous to look at the screen in case you are left on read.

          A few seconds later, your phone vibrates and Seonghwa’s reply appears. It is enough to make your entire face flush with color. “I wanted to eat you out in the bathroom stall, have your skirt over my head as I worked you with my tongue. No one would hear because of the music; your friends would have no idea you snuck off to have me make you cum.”

          You re-read the reply multiple times, making your heart race the more the mental image crystalizes in your head. The idea that Seonghwa was waiting for you all night is baffling and unexpected. It is even crazier to think that he wanted to do something like to you again.

          You are still thinking about how to reply when another message pops up. “Tongue tied, kitten?”

          Shyly, you type out, “Yes…”

          “Never done this before?”

          “No…”

          “Of course you haven’t, kitten, you’re the good one between the two of us, after all.”

          Seonghwa is teasing you again. Even though your chest is so tight it might explode, and you are worried that you seem vapid in your replies, the three dots pop up to signal that Seonghwa is typing once again before you can even respond.

          “Your turn.” is all it says, making you frown a little in confusion…until a split second later a photo loads in.

          Your eyes widen at the picture of Seonghwa. It is a mirror selfie only his shirt is off, one of his thumbs hooked into the top of his pants, lowering them down just enough to be risqué. He has a choker on, this one with tiny metal hoops hanging off it, and his makeup hasn’t been removed. With the hand gripping the camera, three rings glint, a black bracelet around his wrist. There is something extremely dirty about the picture. Perhaps it is how he is half dressed along with the choker, makeup, and accessories. Either way, you can feel the heat forming between your thighs at the sight.

          You haven’t given much thought to what Seonghwa looked like outside of his goth attire until only a week ago, where it popped into your head more than you would have liked. But even when you daydreamed about him, you didn’t think he was going to be that in shape. Seonghwa is lean and tone, with abs that looked like they are carved from the same material as his cheekbones. You didn’t know what Seonghwa did outside of have a lot of sex and go to the club but obviously working out was high on the list.

          Seonghwa wanted a photo back…but you had never actually sent photos like that before. On top of that, you didn’t feel cute at all. Torn between gawking at the pic and trying to take your own, your phone buzzes again.

          “It doesn’t have to be something fancy.”

          You are wearing just a spaghetti strap pajama top. You smush your tits together and raise the camera a little, taking a selfie with a clear view of your cleavage. In comparison to Seonghwa’s shirtless selfie, it is incredibly tame and you are convinced his reply is going to be making fun of you or complete disinterest. I am so out of my depth here, you think as you hit send.

          Instead, your phone actually rings with Bad News 💋 flashing across the screen. It is a face time request too, not just a regular call. Hastily, you accept before you can freak out.

          Seonghwa’s face appears. He is still shirtless, running his fingers through his hair, makeup untouched, walking out of the bathroom. The metal on the choker gleams in the bedroom light.

          “Kitten,” He says and your stomach swoops at the pet name, “You look a little flushed. Running a fever?” His tone makes it obvious that he doesn’t believe for a second you were sick tonight.

          “How was the club?” You ask, trying not to stumble over your words.

          Seonghwa smiles, and it is the same smile he gave right before you granted him permission to touch you a week ago. “Boring. I didn’t think you’d be hiding from me.”

          “I wasn’t hiding. I’m sick.” You lie.

          Seonghwa slides into bed, his head against the pillow, “You look positively ill,” He drawls, “Should I come by with some soup?”

          “Fine,” You bite out, “Okay, I’m not sick.”

          He presses a hand against his chest as if pained, “Are you avoiding me, kitten? I have to say I’m wounded.”

          “I didn’t think you’d notice I wasn’t there.”

          Seonghwa studies your face for a few seconds, eyes lingering on you through the camera. You feel exposed and look downward nervously.

          “You’re unbelievable,” He mumbles.

          “What?”

          But Seonghwa avoids clarification by going, “You know, I typically like to fuck myself to sleep. But I haven’t seen you in a week and now you skipped out on the club.” Does that mean he hasn’t been with anyone else this week? You wonder as he continues, “Are you gonna help me get off then, kitten?”

          “G…get you off?” You stumble over your words, “I’ve never…”

          “Done any of this before, yeah, I know,” He waves his hand as if it is a non-issue, “I’ll teach you. It’ll be just as fun for you, trust me.”

          Seonghwa smiles again and you know that, like last time, you are going to follow him down the rabbit hole.

          “Okay,” You reply, still feeling shy.

          “Why don’t you take off that adorable shirt first?” He suggests, and the compliment makes you blush.

          You tug off your shirt, holding your phone high enough so Seonghwa can only see your bare shoulders and the top of your cleavage. Even though you have just started, the previous photo he sent and talking to him now is already making your underwear stick to you. No one else ever turns you on like this and you don’t fully understand why you are so attracted to him – he is so unlike your type…

          “Did you mean what you said in your text?” You blurt out suddenly, “Were you really thinking about that tonight?” Instantly, you regret your words. Nothing like showing Seonghwa what you were hoping for.

          “Kitten, that was the entire reason I even went there tonight. My sole motivation was to see you dressed up in your Sunday best and to eat that sweet little cunt of yours again.” Seonghwa replies before asking a question back, “Did you think about me this week?”

          You nod, too tongue tied to reply, embarrassed to admit just how much you thought about him this week.

          “Yeah? What did you think about?” Seonghwa asks, his voice low, and somehow you know that he is stroking himself.

          Despite feeling so shy, your hand is rubbing your pussy through your pajama bottoms already, “I thought about…what you did to me…” You mumble, “How good it felt.”

          “After I got home from dropping you off, I couldn’t sleep. Had to jerk myself off to get to bed,” Seonghwa says.

          You bite your bottom lip hard, “What did you think about?”

          “How good you tasted, and how much I wanna put my cock in your cunt.” Seonghwa is never shy when it comes to dirty talk and having someone talk to you like this is strangely liberating, as if you don’t need to worry about him not liking anything you say.

          “Seonghwa,” You say quietly, as your core grows hotter, the need to play with yourself becoming more urgent.

          “What is it, kitten?” He urges softly.

          “I really…uhm, I really liked the pic you sent.” You admit shyly.

          “You wanna see more of me?”

          “Y-yes…”

          The camera moves suddenly, propped up on his night table. Seonghwa slides off the bed, coming into frame. Your heart is beating so quickly that it might explode. He is still wearing the black jeans he wore at the club, large holes in the knees. His fingers pop the button open, unzipping quickly and pulling them down. Just in his boxers, you can see the large bulge straining against the fabric. You are openly staring now, unable to help yourself, still rubbing your pussy through your pajama bottoms.

          Seonghwa hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down. His cock springs free, rock hard and thick, the tip glistening with precum, balls swollen with cum. Seonghwa strokes himself slowly for you. For some reason, the sight of his painted fingernails, rings on his fingers and black bracelet around his wrist as he works his cock makes it hotter.

          “Like this, kitten?” He asks and when you nod, he says, “You gonna show me your body now?”

          You place your phone camera against the clock on your night table, allowing Seonghwa to see you on the bed. Wiggling out of your pajama bottoms, all you have on now is your underwear. Seonghwa has readjusted to being back on his bed, the camera focusing on his face as he watches you.

          Getting on your knees with your ass to the camera, you tug down your underwear until it rests just underneath your ass, looking over your shoulder to see Seonghwa. The camera is moving slightly, and you know he is jerking off to you. It makes you feel more comfortable to know that he likes seeing you in this way, your shyness finally starting to fade away.

          “Kitten, I wanna bite your ass cheeks,” He says hoarsely, the choker bobbing slightly as he swallows hard, “Would you let me do that to you?”

          “Yes,” You say immediately, and on a whim, you tug on your underwear a bit to make your ass jiggle.

          Seonghwa actually groans a little at this, the best sound you ever heard. “You sure you never done this before?” Before you can reply, he says, “Turn around and take off your underwear, kitten, I wanna see your cunt.”

          Fully removing your underwear, you are naked now in front of him. Your desire for him is overwhelming – god, you wish he were here right now, you regret not going to the stupid club just so you would’ve had him tonight…

          “Lay back a bit and spread those lips for me,” Seonghwa says breathlessly, “Need to see your yummy pussy.”

          Leaning back a little, propping yourself up, you bring one hand down and gently spread your lips open. Seonghwa groans again, eyes fluttering closed for a couple of seconds. Your finger brushes against your swollen clit, needing to touch yourself more.

          “Kitten, why didn’t you come to the club tonight?” Seonghwa asks and you swear that you can actually hear a slight whine in his voice, “It’s criminal I don’t have my head between your thighs.”

          You also are wondering why you didn’t go to the club tonight if it meant Seonghwa would have gone down on you again. Isn’t it rare to find a guy who loves to eat pussy? You think, his whine making it obvious that it is something he truly gets off on doing.

          “Go get your vibrator and get off with me,” Seonghwa says.

          You shift, surprised, sliding back to your knees and grabbing your phone, “I…I don’t have anything like that.”

          He stares at you for a long moment before going, “How do you cum then?”

          “I just use my fingers.”

          He looks incredulous now as if you told him you wanted to go hiking together tomorrow. “We’re going to have to fix that,” Seonghwa says thoughtfully, scheming almost, and you wonder what he is planning, “Fine, kitten, we’ll get you off the old-fashioned way then. Just relax with me.”

          You lay back down against your pillows, your hand brushing against your clit. Your nerves are gone and you feel comfortable with him even though never in your life did you think that you would be doing something like this, let alone with Seonghwa.

          “What is it?” He asks – what you were thinking must show on your face.

          “Seonghwa,” You say quietly, voicing your desires still brand new to you, “Do you think you could…switch the camera?”

          He smirks a little, “You want to watch me jerk off, kitten?”

          You nod, biting your bottom lip, wondering if you asked for too much. But Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else. His face vanishes, the camera switching to the front and you are looking at his hand wrapped around his cock as he strokes himself.

          You don’t know why it turns you on so much to see him jerk off, but you rub your clit faster at the sight. You’ve never watched someone do this before outside of porn and knowing it is Seonghwa somehow makes it incredibly hot.

          “Is this what you wanted?” Seonghwa asks and you nod silently, knowing he can see you over the camera, “Do you like it?”

          “Y-yes,” You exhale as the pressure builds, rubbing your nub faster, “It looks r-really good.”

          And it did. You had an intense desire to wrap your mouth around the tip, experience what sucking a cock felt like. But you wanted it to be Seonghwa’s in your mouth, to see if you could make him feel good like he did to you last week.

          “Can’t wait to feel your tongue against it, see your cheeks puff out from trying to cram it in your mouth,” Seonghwa’s words are shaky, his hand moving quicker, precum bubbling at the tip.

          His words make your cheeks hot. No one has spoken to you in this way or done these things with you. You know what your friends would say about Seonghwa. They would warn you to stay away from him, just looking out for you. It is strange to have such a dirty secret like this – and you like it.

          “Seonghwa,” You gasp out, “Seonghwa, will you fuck me next time I see you?” The words tumble from your mouth urgently, so close to cumming, not giving any second thought to what you are saying. You just want to say it.

          “Kitten,” He growls and it makes your knees weak, “I’m going to fuck you silly. I’m going to fuck the good right out of you. By the time I am done, you’re going to be just as bad as me.”

          You moan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, so close to finishing. Seonghwa is breathing hard and you don’t want to cum until you see him climax. You desperately want to watch that.

          “I wanna see,” You gasp out, hoping he knows what you mean.

          He does, and with a grunt of your name, he grips his cock, cum spurting out from the tip, thick ropes of it going on his hand, across his flat stomach. There is so much of it and you want every drop – hearing Seonghwa finish and seeing his load like that –

          With a strangled moan, your hips buck and you are finishing as well. The climax is intense. You find yourself whimpering out Seonghwa’s name as your orgasm rolls through you, eyes closing, panting.

          When you finally open your eyes, Seonghwa has the camera back on his face. “Lick your fingers for me, kitten.” He asks gently.

          You obey, bringing your sticky fingers to your lips, licking them clean. Seonghwa is breathing heavily, watching you as you do so, the choker tight against his neck, moving with every breath.

          “Your turn.” You say quietly.

          The words take him by surprise; you can see his eyes widen very slightly. But he brings his hand up to his mouth, dragging his tongue across the cum on the back, licking it up. The entire time his eyes are glued to you. The sight of Seonghwa doing that because you asked him to thrills you to no end. You find it incredibly sexy.

          “Can you come over tomorrow night?” He asks when he is done, “At eight. Bring an overnight bag if you want.”

          You wonder if you’re supposed to say no, act demure. In the past, you wouldn’t have ever gone over to Seonghwa’s. But a week ago, you wouldn’t have thought you would allow him to eat you out…and yesterday, you never thought you would be doing face time sex with him either.

          “I’ll come over.” as if saying no was an option.

          His gaze softens very briefly before he looks like himself again. “Good-night, kitten.”

          “Sweet dreams, Seonghwa.”

          You can tell immediately that he is remembering his words from last week: “You probably call them that night to wish them sweet dreams.” His mouth tightens briefly, and it looks as if he is trying not to smile.

          Then, the call ends. You drop your phone on the bed, marveling at the turn of events and the fact you will be going over there tomorrow night. You think that the anticipation will keep you awake but you fall asleep almost immediately.

          Your last thought is wondering if Seonghwa is thinking about you before he falls asleep too.

[kahin]

Accessibility masterpost

Lately, it's been nice to see a bunch of people starting to transcribe their works so I've decided to compile a bunch of things that I know about accessibility!

Image, Video, and Gif Descriptions:

A form of accessibility that transcribes all forms of images, gifs, and videos for people on the vision-blindness spectrum!

If you can't transcribe images yet or haven't quite learned how then try looking for one in the notes of the post or check the post for alt text.

The main starter for image descriptions is "[Gif/Video/Image Description:" and then describing the main details in the image.

Some examples:

[Image Description: a screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney, showing Ryuunosuke hunched over and sweating worriedly behind the defence desk. He thinks to himself, "(I can't understand a word that old man is saying...)." End Image Description.]

[ID: a post by maamlet that reads, "not trying to be rude but i love posts on here where i learn a completely new thing that immediately gets refuted in the same post. net zero information." End ID.]

Do not write your IDs in italics, coloured font, or small print as not everyone uses screen readers, and it may make it difficult for them to read; Don't put them under a cut, and don't use subjective language whilst writing them too! Doing so only makes disabled people go through hoops once again just so they can get accessibility.

Another note is that, yes, even things you don't like or agree with should still be transcribed. Some links!!:

Why you shouldn't put IDs under a cut, or use subjective language, and some more accessibility links! And here is another one detailing more on image descriptions.

Alt-Text:

Another kind of image/video/gif description, however, is only visible to screen readers! When writing alt text, make sure it's concise and short, and don't put in "ID: an image of x. End ID." since it's going to be read out as, "Image: ID: an image of x. End ID." An example:

How the alt text should read: [Image: a solid light pink banner.]

Plain text:

For posts written in italics, in small print, in leetspeak, or in a certain colour! They can be extremely difficult and straining to read. Writing them is extremely simple. For example:

I could listen to this song for hours

[Plain text: "I could listen to this song for hours."]

Another example!:

This is my favourite character!

[Plain text: "This is my favourite character!"]

Trigger Tags:

Mainly self-explanatory. Tag basic and more common triggers (like blood, violence, war, unreality, etc), and also less common triggers as well (if asked I think!). Some other things I can think of is tagging videos with no sound as "soundless," as some videos with no sounds may be paranoia-inducing (particularly to HOH/deaf people from what I've heard).

TLDRs:

People learning English or ADHD havers (etc etc) may struggle to read long paragraphs worth of text. Adding a TL;DR can be a bit difficult, but you only need to grab the main focus of the long post, and maybe along with some additional details.

Eyestrain/Flashing tags:

Self-explanatory. Tag flashing gifs or videos with "tw eyestrain" or "tw flashing." Aside from that, having blog themes that don't cause eyestrain (such as having a bright red theme with white text, or having very bright themes in general!).

Tone Indicators:

Most of us know that they are, but for those who don't: they're meant to convey tone for neurodivergent people mainly or people who may have trouble picking up on tone through text! Here's a carrd that has a lot more information, and can probably explain a lot more.

[andypantsx3]

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

[doctorstethoscope]

Not Tired || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hi besties, it’s @ssahotchswife soft hotch saturday again! This one is a request from an anon:

Request:  can you do one where he’s coaching jacks soccer team and after they win they go out to ice cream and then go to the park to get jack tired 🥰

I hope you don’t mind but I took this and really kind of ran with it a little!

contains: loving and respecting Haley Hotchner hours, discussion of parenting (don’t think there should be any triggering content in here but if you need something tagged PLEASE lmk!!)

wordcount: 1.4k

“Come on Jack!” You called from the bleachers as you saw Aaron zipping up the sideline, following the ball. He’s yelling, too, but as the coach his yelling is more instructional and perhaps more productive than yours. Your eyes dart back to Jack on the field, and you realize that he’s lined up for the perfect shot, right past the goalie and into the corner of the neck.  “Shoot it buddy! You got it!” 

As deftly as one can at ten years old, he kicks the ball and it hits the back of the net just as the ref blows the whistle to end the game. They don’t keep score, at his age, but you’re proud of Jack all the same. 

“Did you see me! Did you see me!” Jack asked, bounding over to you without stopping. 

“Of course I did buddy! Go, listen to your dad and tell the other team good game. You’re not quite done yet, sport.” You told him, ruffling his hair and sending him back in the direction of his father as you begin to pack up your belongings. 

Your boys rejoin you after a moment, and you smile at them both. “Good work, Hotchners!” You congratulate them both. “I think you’ve both earned some ice cream.”

Jack is practically buzzing at the thought, and he takes off across the field before either one of you can even get him to take his shin guards off. Aaron wraps an arm around you as you cross the field after him, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. “Good work, coach.” 

“If they were keeping score, we would have won, you know.” He tells you. 

“Aaron, they’re ten.” You laugh. 

“I’m just saying. If you’re into guys that can coach…” he trails off and you throw your head back with your laugh.

 “I’m all set with the guy I’ve got, but thanks for looking out.” You tell him as you meet Jack at the edge of the field. He takes his dad’s hand to enter the parking lot, and you pile yourselves and all of your gear into the car and drive off towards the ice cream parlor. 

Aaron takes your hand as he drives and you peek in the rear view to see Jack struggling to keep his eyes open. You smile at the thought of a quiet afternoon, filled with snuggles on the couch. Jack, of course, perks back up at the promise of ice cream, and as you’re looking around for a table, he finds something even more exciting. 

“Henry!” He exclaims, taking off towards a picnic table where JJ, Will and Henry were sharing a banana split. JJ looks up when Jack arrives at her table and you wave as you make your way over to her. 

“Fancy meeting you folks here,” Will drawls, and you smile. 

“I’d ask if you mind if we crash, but it looks like the boys have made that decision for us.” You laughed, settling in across from JJ and Will as you look over to the kids, who are now sitting in the grass. 

“Uh huh--- and then I kicked the ball into the goal and everyone cheered!!” Jack is regaling to Henry’s rapt attention.

Aaron wraps his arm around your waist as you all eat your ice cream, laughing and joking and enjoying the warm weather. He kisses some wayward ice cream off of your chin and you can’t stop yourself from laughing gleefully-- he’s obviously never this affectionate at work, and you can tell JJ is shocked to see this softer side of him. It occurs to you that they simply don’t know the man who chases Jack around the house in his pajamas and who wakes you up every Saturday morning by singing a love song in your ear and who kisses both you and his son on the forehead every night before you fall asleep. As happy as you were to have that version of him all to yourself, you wish that the others could see little snippets of him like this, too.

“We were just gonna take Henry to the park to burn off a little energy if you want to join?” JJ offered, and Jack heard you. 

“Can we? Please please please please please?” 

“You aren’t tired from your game?” You tried to remind the boy who, less than an hour ago, practically had to be removed from his carseat. 

“No, I’m not tired.” He says quickly. 

“You sure, bud? Henry can play another time.” Aaron backs you up. 

“I’m sure.” He says. The two of you share one of those looks only shared between parents, the kind of look where a whole conversation is exchanged with the speed of a blink and the quirk of a brow. 

“Okay, we can go play for a little while,” Aaron relents, and the six of you make your way over to the park. JJ and Will are prepared with a blanket, and the four of you sit and enjoy a little bit of adult time while the boys chase each other down slides and swing along the monkey bars. Will and JJ are sitting side by side, their thighs touching and their arms all tangled up in each other. Aaron has you pulled between his legs, his arms wrapped around your middle and your head leaning back against his chest. He drops kisses to your temple every so often, and you listen to him and Will chat about the porch Will wants to build around the condo. 

After a little while, Jack bounds up to you, clearly worse for the wear of the day. He settles in between your legs and rests his head on your thigh. You brush your fingers through the sandy blonde hair at his forehead.

“Oh, buddy, you’re pretty wiped, huh?” You ask him, looking down at him with an almost pitiful smile.

“Not tired,” he mumbles against your jeans. “I’m not tired, mumma. I’m just takin a break,” he says, promptly falling asleep in your lap. 

You tense, trying not to wake Jack as you turn to look at Aaron. He’s already looking down at you, and you can feel JJ and Will’s stares boring into your soul.

“We’ll go get Henry,” Will says, helping JJ up and giving the two of you some privacy. 

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as they are out of earshot. Aaron just laughs, leaning forward to kiss the anxiety off of your face. 

“I’m not,” he tells you, shaking his head and giving you one more kiss before giving you the space to respond. 

“I didn’t tell him to call me that.” You assure him.

“I know you didn’t, hon. Do you not want him to call you that?”

 “No!” You’re quick to correct Aaron before he can hurt his own feelings, accidentally disturbing Jack in the process. You shush him and run your hand through his hair for a moment before he falls back to sleep. “Of course that’s not it, Aaron. But Jack has a mom, a great mom, and I wouldn’t want to dare take her place.”

 Aaron shakes his head. “There’s room in his heart for both of you, just like there’s room in my heart for both of you. You’ve never once asked me to forget about Haley, to act like I never loved her, or to try to live a version of my life that isn’t profoundly altered by her impact on me. Would you ask Jack to do any of that?” 

“Of course not,” You tell him. “I know how much she loved him. I wish she was still here, for both of you.” 

Aaron sighed. “I know, my love. But she’s not here, and you are here. And I know for a fact that she’d be happy to know I found someone who loves her son like their own, and he loves her so much in return that he wants to call her mom, too.” 

You breathe out a little sigh of relief. “I love you. Thank you for letting me love you when you didn’t have to.” 

“Thank you for loving me even when I didn’t want you to.” He tells you in return, kissing the side of your face again before standing up and collecting Jack from your lap without waking him, in the skilled way that only fathers can.  You stand up, your leg now fully asleep from the weight of Jack’s sleeping form against it, and fold JJ’s blanket, crossing the park to return it to her. 

“You okay?” She asked, taking the blanket and wrapping you up in a hug. “I’m sure that was a lot, and unexpected. 

“Yeah, it was.” You agreed. “I’ve never been better.”