#there's something about a person intervening on your behalf

[cinemaocd]

I honestly think the scenes of greatest intimacy in Austen are those moments of unspoken solidarity between people when they have to deal with a difficult person: Emma and Mr. Knightley handling the crisis of snow at Christmas, Darcy and Elizabeth curtailing Caroline Bingley's bitchiness to protect Georgiana in the music room, Wentworth seeing the child clinging to Anne's neck and wordlessly removing him, Edmund and Fanny dancing silently together at the end of a long ball, just enjoying being introverts together away from the Crawfords, Col. Brandon fetching Mrs. Dashwood because she would be of comfort to Marianne and Elinor...

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of terror, domestic!Simon, intimacy in the shower, hand job, vaginal fingering, brief oral sex (female receiving), non-penetrative sex, the mask comes off

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Part Fourteen of Ink & Needle

Simon doesn't see you again for two weeks. Amelia intervenes. Simon removes his mask in front of you.

Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fifteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Repetition.

Fingers counting bottles. Counting colors. Counting labels.

White paper. Blank spaces. Pencil. Graphite tip.

Breaking. Breaking. Over. Over. Over, again.

Blue ink. Red ink. Black.

Simon counts the little rows, falling deeper into distraction. It’s a way to quiet his mind, to turn off the fucking noise that’s buzzing there in the back like an annoyingly curious bee. But all this inventory counting isn’t working. Nothing is keeping his thoughts at bay.

A week has passed. An entire fucking week and your absence is a festering wound. Simon isn’t taking it personally. Really. He isn’t. But fuck he misses you. Part of him blames himself, insisting that your distance has to do with something he did. It’s not entirely far from the truth. While Simon hasn’t exactly lied to you, he has omitted crucial information.

British Intelligence may very well be coming to call, but Simon doesn’t know that information explicitly. The situation is precarious. Delicate. The information Simon shifted through with Price, Kyle, and Johnny unnerved him.

Kit Walsh is not your local nationalist prick who spouts shit off in chatrooms or on social media for influencers to stitch. Kit Walsh moved beyond that. Beyond walking in to corner stores or a school or a church for innocent people to understand his lead-drenched wrath. Beyond a week or two of media frenzy. Beyond mugshots and a jury sentence.

This man moves between. One minute he’s supplying arms to opposing sides in another country to destabilize a region, and then turns around to whisper in some politician’s ear to convince them to “intercede” on the behalf of “global peace.”

He pushes weapons, pushes people, pushes drugs.

But he’s not a businessman. That’s just a front for his true intentions. Kit Walsh thinks on global levels and how he intends to make the world into his image. He takes his time. He observes and then moves.

It makes the man more dangerous because he also understands that acts at the local level are just as or even more powerful than the global ones. Nothing is more terrifying than when your own neighbor turns their words of hate into hateful actions.

Kit Walsh knows this.

Which is why Simon didn’t give a fuck when he received all those injuries. He thought he took the fucker out for good. That Walsh was a burnt-up corpse. Simon rarely considers any of his scars to be marks of pride. Yet the ones he received when he shoved his knife into Walsh’s chest were ones he didn’t mind having.

But none of that matters now.

Walsh is alive. And he might have fucking blown the back of Lord Archibald Williams’ head off. For what? Simon doesn’t fucking know. Price didn’t know either which means that British Intelligence likely doesn’t.

And you don’t need to know any of that. Why burden you? Why put any of these worries and issues on your plate when they might not land there at all? Why exhaust you further?

When you brought up Archie, Simon panicked, knowing you were already tired—already stressed. It’s not right that this happened to your friend, but Simon truly believes there isn’t anything to particularly worry about at the moment. That is reason enough not to dump this on you.

Simon’s fingers hover above the lid of an ink bottle. He pauses there, thinking, forgetting the number he just uttered.

Lost count. Starts over.

Blue ink. Red ink. Black.

“Fuck!” shouts Simon, his tatted knuckles turning white as the pencil clenched in his fist snaps in half.

Simon stares at the broken pencil. At the fractured graphite.

Sighing heavily, Simon drops the clipboard and steps away from the storage cabinets. He’s fucking distracted, and it’s not only because of the shit he read in Price’s file. Simon hasn’t seen you—hasn’t touched you in almost a week. Somehow, the separation is difficult, more frustrating than Simon previously thought.

He went three years without knowing your touch. But a week is now too much?

Simon clenches his fists. Releases them. Inhales deeply through his nostrils and exhales slowly through his mouth. He repeats until there isn’t any tension in his limbs and his mind quiets. Using the silence, Simon takes notes of the aches and pains. The leg that always gives him trouble isn’t hurting much today, but that might be a different story tomorrow. Everything else is dull and fine, better than it has been.

Checking his scheduling book, Simon pulls up the name of the next client, retrieving the sketches and preparing the stencil. This is work he knows. This is work that’s natural to him. Safe and secure. When the client arrives, Simon shifts into work mode, slipping into his professional mask, dipping into his creativity.

For these few hours, Simon doesn’t think about you at all and he certainly doesn’t think about Walsh. He’s only thinking about the tattoo and the client and the goddamn inventory sheet that looks ready to slip right off the desk.

But when Simon’s client leaves, and he is left in an empty shop with a snoozing Bravo, thoughts of you come roaring back to the forefront of his mind. There really is no reason to worry. It’s not like Simon is only receiving radio silence from you. You just haven’t been with him. That’s all.

The two of you have talked. Well—not extensively. It’s only been flashes of conversation, brief texts and even shorter phone calls. It is the tiredness and exhaustion that Simon hears in your voice every time he speaks with you that worries him. He knows why you’re staying away, and it’s not because of him. At least, that is what you tell him.

Yet Simon cannot help but linger in those spaces, questioning whether or not he somehow messed up. That he didn’t do enough. Worse, it’s not fair to you to think this way. You have been clear about why you’re not around, but it still chews at him. Simon stills wants to see you, to hold you close even if it’s for a fleeting moment.

He knows there is a baby. He knows you have responsibilities to your friend. He knows and yet Simon is fucking selfish because he wants—no. Needs to breathe you in even if it is just the sweet scent of your skin.

But evening comes as Simon closes up shop for the night, and there is not a text or call from you.

There are none the next day or the day after that.

By Sunday morning, Simon is boiling from the inside out, gripping his phone like a goddamn lunatic.

He hasn’t heard from you, and the few calls and texts he’s sent have gone unanswered. If he were his old self, he’d have already gone to your place demanding to see you. But things have changed for him in some respects. Simon is trying hard not to fall into old habits and behaviors when it comes to you.

Simon has failed on several occasions, but he’s trying to be better. He’s trying to be better for you.

The decision he makes is like pulled teeth. Necessary sometimes but fucking painful without the proper numbing. Simon does not go to your place. Every step he takes in the opposite direction of Amelia’s home are dull razors against the skin. He forces himself to leash Bravo, to go to Dancing Faun, to sit down on his usual fucking stool and pretend that everything is fine.

Routine is good. Routine is comfortable.

Simon is going to leave it—leave you—and give you some needed space. There is a newborn in Amelia’s house, and the last thing Simon needs to do is to barge in and step all over that dynamic just because he hasn’t seen you in a few days.

“Look who it is,” chuckles Ben, the owner of Dancing Faun. He sets down a newly polished pint glass. “Thought you forgot about me.”

Simon grins behind the balaclava, the familiar face a much-needed welcome. “You’re forgettable. But your wife?” Simon whistles and settles on his usual stool.

Ben guffaws and wags a finger in Simon’s direction. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She’d leave me in an instant if you asked.”

“Better ask her then,” replies Simon, pretending to get up.

“Oi. Sit down,” mumbles Ben, shaking his polishing rag in Simon’s direction. “Cheeky bastard.”

Ben leaves and returns with Simon’s usual full English and tea. The two of them chat, Ben forgetting not to talk politics on Sunday while Simon listens and shakes his head, knowing the big guy does it on purpose to mess with him. After breakfast, Simon starts with a pint of dark amber ale, moving on to a second as the first customers begin to trickle in.

For a few hours, Simon forgets about the outside world. He watches a rugby match. Drinks a third beer. Considers whether he should switch over to whiskey. It’s just like all his other Sundays since retirement.

Routine is good. Routine is comfortable.

Simon lifts the pint glass to his mouth, downing the last of his third drink. He sets it down on the bar top, unsuspecting of the coming intrusion.

Reality is such a fickle thing. Sometimes it is a clawing, creeping blob that lurks in the corner of a dark room. Sometimes, it is an abrupt shaking, as if hands are on you, imploring you to look.

“Amelia!”

Simon’s stomach flips at the sound of Ben’s voice calling out to the older woman. Glancing away from the television, Simon turns, seeking you. Hope expands in his chest like an inflating balloon. Sparks pop off in his head with the belief that you will enter in behind Amelia. That you will walk through the door and Simon can finally see you again.

But you’re not here.

You’re not with her.

It’s just Amelia.

Her cheeks are rosy from the November cold, and her coat swallows her up.

“I have photos of the grandbaby,” she says, voice cheery as she removes her leather gloves and stuffs them in her coat pockets.

Ben’s smile widens. “Congratulations.”

Several patrons around the pub hold up their drinks in salute, echoing Ben’s initial statement. Without taking off her coat, Amelia travels from person to person, her wire rimmed glasses hanging on the tip of her nose as she scrolls through photos on her phone. She lingers with each person, telling the same story, showing the same pictures.

Simon patiently waits because that’s all he can do. Inside, he’s boiling in an agonizing twisting of alertness that pulls every muscle in his body taut with tension.

Is she doing this on purpose to mess with him? Did he really fuck up and this is her version of punishment?

When Amelia finally approaches Simon, some of that tension evaporates. Her smile is genuine. Soothing. She’s not upset with him. If anything, Amelia is relieved to see him.

“Morning, Simon,” she sighs, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“Morning,” he replies, not recognizing the gruffness in his voice. Simon swallows, tapping the side of his empty glass with a single finger.

Amelia holds up her phone. “Interested in seeing pictures of my grandbaby?”

Fucking hell, he can’t say no to her.

Simon only nods because he cannot trust his voice. Is he fracturing? What the bloody hell is wrong with him? Is it this distance? Does Simon truly miss you so much that it’s causing him to slip?

Amelia settles herself on the stool next to Simon. Bravo’s head doesn’t even lift in greeting. The German Shepard is out, completely relaxed and dozing on the floor. With phone clutched in one hand, Amelia begins to scroll through multiple pictures. Most of them are just of the baby asleep or cradled in someone’s arms.

“Her name is Lillian,” says Amelia, smiling fondly. “Named after Archie’s younger sister. Poor thing didn’t even get to see the age of three.”

The mention of Archie’s name twists Simon’s stomach. The file, its contents, and the conversation he had with Price, Johnny, and Kyle comes creeping back, wanting to sink its claws in.

“This,” and Amelia brings her phone a bit closer. “Is the day we brought her back.” Amelia hums softly. “So rosy cheeked.”

Simon grunts in agreement. It’s not the kindest response but it’s not because he doesn’t agree. Lillian is cute. She is rosy cheeked. Simon is good with kids and he likes them. But he just wants to know what is happening with you.

Amelia slides her finger across the phone’s screen only to reveal a glimpse of a possible answer to all of his questions.

This picture is one of you. In your arms, you are holding Lillian. This wasn’t taken at the hospital. This is at Amelia’s home on the sofa. Simon recognizes the fucking fabric. You’re smiling down at the girl as if she’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen.

At first, Simon’s mind is steady. Resolute.

But then, it drifts. Keeps floating. Floating further away until Simon is imagining that you are not holding Amelia’s grandchild at all. You are holding your child. The one you might have with him.

The thought—this image of you—is sudden and fierce. Simon cannot shake it. His mind fixates on this future as if it’s a completely plausible thing. It sticks to him like honey. Like tar. No fingers can dig in and scrape it away. No cleaning solution could scrub it off. There is no box or hole or wasteland that Simon can hurdle this idea into in the hope that he might forget it.

It has bloomed. Flowered. Roots sinking between the soft folds of his brain.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“She needs a break,” says Amelia, her tone drifting to a far-off place, pulling Simon from his wayward dreaming.

She is looking down at her phone. She is looking at the photo of you. Amelia glances up at Simon, her features softening into gentle sadness. “That’s really why I came. Hoped you’d be here.” She shrugs.

“Here I am,” replies Simon.

Amelia nods. “Here you are,” she echoes.

Locking her phone, Amelia exchanges it for the gloves in her pockets. Simon glances over at Ben and lightly moves his empty glass in the man’s direction. He comes over and retrieves the glass.

“She’s working herself to the bone. Doing everything for Evie and I when it’s not necessary.” Amelia taps her gloves against her open palm. “And she’s too stubborn to hand the reigns over to me. The woman needs a break. Away from all of us.”

Simon understands. You’re too selfless to step aside. You need to be forced or prompted. Amelia knows this too which is why she came searching for him. Hearing that you’re overworking yourself displeases him, but he’s also bloody fucking happy that he can have you to himself for a bit.

“For how long?” asks Simon, smothering the hopefulness that wants to burst forth.

Amelia frowns in thought. “A few days. Maybe a week. If she accepts that.”

Oh, you’ll accept. Simon will see to it.

“Another drink?” Ben meanders over from the other side of the bar.

Simon shakes his head. “Paying out, Ben.”

Amelia smirks and slips on her gloves as Simon hands off what’s owed. The tension and confusion from earlier are now raw energy, pumping through his loins like electricity. The entire walk to Amelia’s is easy, all the aches and pains in his body suddenly silent as if they too are excited to see you.

When Simon enters Amelia’s home, he finds you sitting on the floor in the living room. You’re surrounded by piles of laundry. Closest to Simon are small stacks of papers. They’re scattered off to the side in some sort of organized chaos that he can’t figure out. Your laptop is open in front of you resting on an ottoman. You’re reading emails while folding laundry.

Bravo stands to the right of Simon but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for Simon’s command but even he can feel the dog’s excitement to greet you.

You haven’t noticed Simon yet but he certainly notices you. While he’d love to stop and just bask in your beauty, there are so many other things catching his attention that give life to what Amelia was telling him.

Tiredness covers you like a weighted blanket. You’re slouched forward, each movement accompanied by a sigh and a delay that Simon doesn’t like. His gaze focuses and it is then that he sees the slight tremble in your hands as you smooth the top of a folded towel.

Behind Simon, Amelia shuts the front door. The sound of it closing jostles you. Your head snaps in his direction.

“Simon.”

It is a relief. A surprise.

The exhaustion in your voice is cold and palpable like butter right out of the fridge. You’re ready to fall over. Simon doesn’t need to guess because when you attempt to stand, you wobble a bit, reaching out to steady yourself on the sofa.

Amelia is right. You are overworking yourself.

It takes Simon three strides to get to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he lightly presses, indicating that you should sit back down. Without protest, you follow his silent command, and Simon sinks to your level.

“What is all this?” he asks, keeping his tone calm.

Beneath the mask, Simon is furious. Not with you but with himself. He should have listened to his instinct. He should have given in to those old impulses. If he had, he could be helping you right now and perhaps you wouldn’t be so goddamn tired.

The sigh you release if heavy like a boulder. It presses on Simon’s chest. His hand on your shoulder shifts, cradling the side of your throat, his thumb brushing against your jawline. You don’t say anything. You’re too defeated—too exhausted.

Bravo cannot reach you with Simon in the way. The German Shepard opts for the ottoman, resting his head on it, ears drooping slightly.

“Simon is going to take you for a bit.” Amelia’s voice drifts over Simon’s shoulder and your eyes widen as you glance at the woman.

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” snaps Amelia. “You’re doing far too much. Let us help.”

That’s a fucking understatement.

Simon presents his other hand and you take it. His hand on your neck slips away to reach behind you to help you guide you to your feet.

 “Go pack a bag,” murmurs Simon, his palm splaying wide across your lower back. “You’re staying with me.”

Your lips part as if to form a protest but Simon isn’t having that. He arches a single eyebrow, daring you to question what he’s told you to do.

Your mouth snaps shut.

Simon leans in. “Good girl,” he whispers.

This time when your lips part, it is with surprise. You blink, a bit stunned, and then a flood of warmth rushes up your neck and cheeks, your gaze dropping to the floor, face turning away in embarrassment.

Your reaction is something. It is something other than tiredness. Other than exhaustion and weakness. This is a piece of you he’s seen before and wants to see again. You shouldn’t be shoving it away to take care of others.

Against his chest is your flattened palm. Your fingers curl inward as your embarrassed demeanor turns into observance. You’re staring at the laundry, upper body twisting back and forth as you look for something.

“What is it?” prompts Simon, following your movements as if he can read your mind and know what it is you’re searching for.

Reaching down, you toss a few unfolded pieces of laundry aside to reveal your phone. Retrieving it, you glance down at the screen.

“Shit,” you mutter. It doesn’t light up. Your phone is dead. No wonder you haven’t been answering him.

“We’ll worry about that later.” Simon nods toward the stairs. “Go.”

Back at his flat, Simon takes your packed bag and drops it off in the bedroom. You stand in the space between the living room and kitchen, lingering with your hands clasped in front of you.

“Sit. I’ll make us something.” Simon gestures toward the couch and you slowly unfurl, nearly falling into the sofa once you get there.

Simon rummages around in his pantry and fridge, knowing that it’s best to find a snack for you to munch on while he cooks dinner. When is the last time you ate a real meal or fucking slept? Would you even admit the truth to him?

He eventually brings you tea and a variety of crisps. Your “thank you” is slightly slurred like you’re close to falling into the lands of Morpheus. Bravo curls up next to you, one paw touching your thigh while the rest of his body reclines away.

Simon stays in the kitchen. When he emerges to bring you food, he finds you asleep, grasping one of the bags of crisps against your chest. The opened end is facing Bravo and the poor dog is having an existential crisis on whether or not he should stick his face in or leave the bag be.

He should let you sleep, but Simon also knows you need to fucking eat something.

Gently, Simon places your plates on the coffee table. He removes the bag of crisps from your arms before rousing you. The meal is devoured. Tea is had. Simon throws on a movie, and you snuggle up to him, sinking into his warmth.

 This is how it should be. With you in his arms.

Twenty minutes in and you’re asleep again. Simon doesn’t care at all. You are here. You are close. You are safe. Like this, Simon can protect you. He can take care of you. Simon finishes the movie by himself, deciding that only after he’ll carry you to bed.

As he shifts to lift you, you awaken slightly, arms sliding around his neck to snuggle closer. Simon turns his face into you, breathes you in, allowing your scent to fill his lungs. You’re drifting off again as he adjusts his grip and stands. His bad leg wants to give out but Simon bites back the quick flare of pain.

Fuck that. Simon is stronger than that.

In the bedroom, Simon bends at the knees, thighs straining as he tosses back the covers on one side of the bed. Sliding you underneath, he tucks you in. You turn over to face the opposite direction, arms curling around his pillow like it’s him. He watches as you bring it closer, nostrils flaring as if you’re inhaling him too.

Simon changes into more comfortable clothing before sliding in next to you.

For him, his sleep is absent of dreams.

There are no shadows or fire. No memory. Just blankness. Nothing.

He wakes early, well before the time he actually needs to open up the shop for customers. Simon doesn’t want to. He’d like to stay in bed all day with you, but he also knows that trying to rearrange today’s schedule just for a bit of personal gratification is a fucking rude thing to do.

Simon stretches, all the joints in his body popping as Bravo’s head appears above the end of the bed. The dog tilts his head and Simon gestures toward the door. Bravo takes off, heading outside to go guard the place from squirrels.

Shifting to the edge of the bed, Simon rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. More popping but the stiffness quickly recedes.  Glancing behind him, Simon finds you still asleep. Things have changed though. The bedding is twisted around your body and you’ve removed some clothes in the night.

He cannot help himself. Simon’s gaze glides over all the exposed skin. The itch to reach out and run just his fingertips across the curve of your hip is unbearable. Simon has to clench his hands into fists just to stop himself from touching you.

Pushing off from the bed, Simon enters the bathroom, seeking a hot shower. All his clothes including his mask go on the floor. He is aching between his legs, all the blood in his body rushing happily to his quickly swelling cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stepping under the water.

Wrapping his hand around the base, Simon begins to stroke. The small bit of underwear he kept as a token is still tucked away in his dresser, but he doesn’t need it. Not anymore. He now has the memory of you, and the fact that you are currently in his bed. It’s enough to drive that pulsing desire higher.

Simon rests his forearm against the shower wall. He leans forward, his forehead coming into contact with that arm. He’s so fucking busy stroking his cock, that he doesn’t hear the opening of the bathroom door.

He doesn’t hear it close.

Nor does he hear the shower door.

It isn’t until your hand slides over his that Simon realizes what’s happening.

Your other hand rests against his back, splaying wide, moving up and down in gentle passes.

“Let me,” you murmur and Simon releases himself, only for you take his place, stroking him perfectly in utter pleasure.

A shiver rattles up his spine. You’re not looking at his face. You stand off to his right, face lightly pressed against the right side of his upper back near his shoulder. Lips move against skin, leaving kisses behind. You give Simon these small gifts with each stroke of your hand along his shaft.

Do you know that your mouth and hand on his back are caressing his scars? Do you know? Because Simon does, and it make him feel unworthy. Those are no longer earned marks but ones of failure.

But it’s not like you know that.

Over the scars is ink. Black ink. Perhaps you feel their lines and ridges under the tattoos. Perhaps you don’t. Yet Simon knows, and he doesn’t hate the touch. Other people he’s fucked have touched them, commented on them, tried to even sexualize them.

You’re not touching the scars. You are but you aren’t. You’re touching him. Touching Simon.

With a gentle twist of your wrist, you glide down his cock and circle the head with your thumb. Simon groans, leaning into your hold. He imagines you sinking to your knees and taking him into your mouth. He imagines you spreading your legs wide in open invitation. Of him sliding into you, watching himself disappear into your welcoming body.

Your pace increases slightly, just enough to drag Simon toward his end.

He bursts, his release marking the wall, but Simon is already grabbing your wrist, twisting around to face you.

You’re fast. Already, you have one hand thrown over your eyes, a playful smile plastered on your face.

Simon doesn’t care. Not really. The mask is just habit.

Gently, Simon guides your hand away from your face and yet you still keep your eyes closed.

“Don’t want to look at me?” he asks teasingly.

You giggle. “Feels a bit wrong.”

Simon smirks and then grabs your shoulders, turning you around to face the shower wall. He leans down, pressing his lips to your ear. “Your turn.”

Your hands go out to steady yourself as Simon slides his hand between your legs. He moans softly at the contact. You’re already wet for him, and it’s not because of the water. You’re fucking aroused. Needy. All Simon can think about is fucking you with his fingers before he fucks you with his tongue.

Simon wants to give you more but that has to wait. When he takes you like that, he needs to have all of you. Without interruptions. Without distractions. That’s how he wanted it to be three years ago at Riot Room. He wanted to take you home and fuck you on and over every surface in his flat. He wanted to make you scream his name until your voice went hoarse.

He circles your clit with his thumb a few times before testing with a finger. It slides right in and Simon feels the gentle flutter of your pussy adjusting to him. With his other hand, Simon slides it up your body to grab the front of your throat, holding you still. He presses his lips to the top of your head, not caring that the water is close to running into his eyes.

Simon begins to thrust and swirl, inserting a second finger quickly, wanting to feel how you’ll stretch for him. You whimper when his thumb makes another pass over your clit. It is sweet and Simon grins against your scalp, drinking in your little sounds.

But you are also reaching for him, left hand dropping from the wall to move behind you, palming his cock back to hardness even as Simon’s fingers fuck your pussy. You rock back, indicating what you want.

Simon nearly loses it right then.

He nearly snaps.

All he has to do is arch your hips a bit, maybe bend slightly at the knee. He’d fucking slide right in. He could fuck you right here against the shower wall, watch you whimper and beg, pinned between two hard surfaces.

You arch your back. Rub against him. His cock slides against the spot where your cunt and his fingers meet.

A vision of you clawing at the shower wall as he fucks you senseless clouds his mind. It infiltrates. Digs its feet in.

Simon nearly gives in right then as you orgasm, squeezing around his fingers. He nearly breaks the promise to himself.

But he somehow controls himself. Instead of giving in, Simon removes his hand from between your legs and twists his fingers in your hair, tugging to arch your back and bend you enough so he can reach that gorgeous fucking mouth.

His lips come down on yours and you moan against him. Simon’s hand at your throat eases, slips away, trailing over breast and waist and hip before stabilizing on your lower stomach. With this support, Simon slides his cock between your legs.

He does not penetrate, just rocks back and forth. With your thighs pressed together, and the slickness of your orgasm freshly coating your sex, he can pretend he’s inside you. Simon knows it isn’t enough but it’ll have to do for now.

The hand on your stomach sinks lower, shifting to your pelvis. His fingers find your clit. You’re already so sensitive from the previous orgasm that the second takes moments to come to life. Simon savors it, allows it to feed his own movements until he cannot contain his own. Pressing on your pelvis, Simon keeps you in place as finishes, his cock soaking in your juices.

The water is growing cold and Simon is fucking smug.

Slowly, he eases his cock from between your thighs, perfectly content with what just transpired. But his cum is fucking everywhere. It’s literally dripping from your sex.

“Fuck,” murmurs Simon, gently wiping some of that away with water.

That’s something the two of you need to fucking discuss. The first time the two of you had sex, there was a condom. This time, Simon doesn’t want there to be any barriers, but that cannot fucking happen without birth control. You might not be on it, and if that’s the case, the two of you will have to figure something else out.

You press into him. “Simon,” you groan, lips parting in wanton need.

A growl leaves his throat as he gives you what he wants. He nips and sucks on your bottom lip before drawing away, leaving you to face the shower wall. Simon shuts off the water and lightly tugs on your hand.

“Come on.”

He tugs on your hand again but you don’t move. Frowning, Simon grabs your shoulders and forces you to turn.

He blinks and then bursts out laughing. “What are you doing?” Your eyes are closed and your mouth is a thin line. “You can look at me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Simon chuckles, releasing your shoulders. He places one hand flat against the shower wall. Leaning in, Simon drops his voice to low purr. “Think I’m monstrous?”

With his words come the pebbling of your skin. He watches in real time as it fans out across your body. He grins in triumph.

“The very worst,” you reply softly.

Pushing off from the wall, Simon stands tall, shoulders squared, chest forward. “Look at me,” he says, and this time it’s a command.

You suck in a breath before one eye opens. It’s more of a squint but then you open the other, blinking a few times.

For some stupid fucking reason, Simon is a bit nervous. He’s never been nervous like this. Not when it comes to his face.

At first, your eyes widen, and Simon’s chest clenches tight as if a ribbon is twisted around his ribcage. Then, your brow softens, and your mouth forms the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen. Your hands instantly reach toward his face in eagerness only to pause just before making contact.

The retreat is shallow. You’re asking permission.

“It’s okay,” murmurs Simon, because it is.

You close this distance and Simon turns his face into your soft hands. Your thumbs stroke over his cheeks. Your fingers trace his brow and nose. Every touch is exploratory and gentle, but fucking bliss.

“Hiding all this from me?” you tease. “You’ve been holding out on me, Simon.”

He chuckles, happiness vibrating in his chest. Clasping your hands with his own, Simon brings them down to his chest. In one motion, the two of you are coming together, lips meeting. This is all softness. All tenderness.

Simon draws back, licks his lips. “Will you go away with me?”

“On a trip?”

He nods, stealing one more kiss before continuing. “Next weekend? I can move a few things around.”

“I’m not sure,” you say slowly.

“If you say no I’m telling Amelia.”

You laugh, almost snort, and shake your head. “Fine. Where to?”

“It’s a surprise,” whispers Simon.

You pull back slightly, an amused expression on your face. Simon grins and steps out of the shower, bringing you with him. With towel in hand, Simon soaks up the droplets on his skin. He never takes his eyes off you as you dry yourself. The moment you’re done, Simon snags the towel from you and tosses it to the side.

“Come here,” he growls, needing you all over again.

You playfully bat at his hands but it’s all for show. You easily give in to him, allowing Simon to drag you onto the bed. He sighs as he pushes your legs wide, settling between them to drape one over each of his shoulders.

Dragging you to his mouth, Simon forgoes all teasing and closes the distance. Your back arches off the bed, hands flying to his head as his tongue penetrates your pussy.

It is morning.

He’s simply enjoying his breakfast.

And Simon won’t leave the table until he’s finished his meal.

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[meaningofaeons]

Hi! Can I request hcs about Gepard and Dan Heng with a very playful and kinda overconfident reader. They're a pain in the ass but also very charming so it's hard to be mad at them. I don't know if the name would tell you anything, but they are Wei Wuxian type of menace. Thank you 💛

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ cheerful mischief

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau, dan heng ⊹ word count - 1.0k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, fluff, tad bit of angst if you squint (reader is a bit reckless :,3), more utc

unfortunately I do not know much about wei wuxian or the series hes from but!! I looked him up so I think I have a good idea what you're looking for anon! thank you for the request!! <3 /ᐠ ̥  ̮  ̥ ᐟ\ฅ

⊹ Gepard Landau

Gepard was consistently endeared and... frankly, worried by your nature.

Being an incredibly patient man, well-trained on his emotional handling as a member of the Silvermane Guards, he could handle your playful attitude and teasing.

Though, let's be clear—"could handle" does not mean "immune to".

The poor Captain had more than his fair share of going red in the face whenever you were around.

It's not that you were trying to tease the poor man, knowing how shy he could get and how easily it could happen, but he was just too easy!

Your energy was contagious, and so was your smile and your laughter. But he definitely noticed your habit of shirking the rules—all in good fun, you'd say.

Gepard would find himself sighing when you ended up getting in trouble with the other guards, ready for another round of justifying your actions and asking for leniency on your behalf. If the Captain asked for it, it was usually done.

It could be a hassle, but... Still, he couldn't be too upset. Not when you looked at him with those big eyes as if to try and absolve yourself of any crimes.

Most situations ended with another long, drawn-out sigh from Gepard, the kind that you always knew meant he wasn't really mad, and a gentle mussing of your hair with the promise to "never do something like that again".

Spoiler: You always did something like that again.

However, you were clearly very caring towards your friends and family. It was something the Captain admired most about you.

It also worried him, however.

There were more than a few instances where he'd find you out with one of your many friends, getting into it with a hoodlum that harassed you two with that signature assertive smirk of yours.

He was concerned in those moments, but not beyond reason.

Sure, he had gone out to patrol this particular section because he heard you'd be around. Surely, it was only to make sure you stay out of trouble, and not because his thoughts are plagued by you in every waking moment or otherwise—

They'll be fine! he'd assure himself. Even they're not that reckless.

You were your own person, and a strong-willed one at that. There was no reason for him to intervene.

Until, of course, he saw that same hoodlum grab your arm on one such day.

Gepard had faith in your ability to worm your way out of anything, always with a wink and a smile—that was how you evaded arrest and looped past the rules so many times, after all.

But when things got physical, he would never hesitate to step in and defend you, knowing your selfless nature.

He noticed a lot about you. But the one thing he never did seem to notice was the way your eyes gleamed with affection in those moments he helped you out.

Maybe one day, though...

⊹ Dan Heng

Dan Heng honestly thought that after meeting and interacting with March 7th, he had seen it all in terms of unfounded confidence and boundless energy.

You proved to be the exception.

Not that he minded, though.

Naturally introverted Dan Heng didn't find himself spending much time with you at first. You seemed more the type to get along with March, or even the Trailblazer.

Even Himeko and Welt, older as they were, seemed taken with your charming nature.

However, eventually, you slowly cracked his reserved little shell. It shockingly didn't take much aside from time.

"Dan Heng, want to see me fight off this Fragmentum Monster? Bet you ten Shield I can take it out in three hits or less!"

"That seems reckless... Besides, what use do you have for Shield? We're only in Jarilo-VI for a brief visit."

"To buy you a nice meal, of course! I've been saving."

You ended that sentence with a usual wink and a pat to his shoulder, running off to defeat the monster anyhow.

Dan Heng would mutter something about "what's the point if I'm the one giving you the money", but what you missed was the faint flush on his cheeks at the notion.

You're just playing around, he'd think. You say things like that all the time to everyone, not just him.

You never got to see past the stoic expression he kept stubbornly on his face, but when he got to the archives after a long day of trailblazing, his mind would be nowhere but you.

To be truthful, though he'd never admit it, your confidence was admiral to Dan Heng.

Though it could be difficult and a bit of a bother to bail you out when your games didn't go to plan, you consistently got back on your feet, never swayed by your circumstances.

It made him think to his own past from time to time, and a small fire ignited in his soul to work on his own confidence with himself.

Not only that, but your dedication to those you cared for.

When an Antimatter Legion monster had descended on you, Dan Heng, March, and the Trailblazer, you were the one who made an opening for the group to escape.

In spite of his reluctance to leave you behind, March had dragged him along, telling him to trust you.

And he did. He really, really did. But a part of him also agonized endlessly over it for every minute you didn't return to the safe zone in the space station.

Eventually, you had turned up—not a scratch on you, of course—but while the others had cheered for your return and complimented your brilliant plan, Dan Heng had only tugged on your sleeve once the two of you were alone.

He didn't say anything, but you noticed the look on his ever-reserved face, and pulled him into a hug.

"Gonna cry on me, Dan Heng? Here, I'll offer you my shoulder. I didn't realize you cared about me this much!" you giggled.

He only buried his face in your shoulder.

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

[edenfenixblogs]

"Night" is Free if You're an Audible Subscriber

A lot of people's only experience with learning about the Holocaust is Anne Frank's Diary or works of fiction.

Anyone speaking about i/p right now NEEDS to read this first person account of life in a concentration camp.

There is a right way and a wrong way to read this book.

The right way: Sit with the uncomfortable feeling that non-Jewish people did this to Jews. Not just Germans and not just Nazis. The European leaders who aligned with Hitler and fought with him did this. The Russians who distributed and popularized the antisemitic conspiracy theories which informed much of Europe's Jew hatred at the time did this. The neighbors who sat back and watched as government officials carted off people they knew and saw every day or shot them in the streets and buried them in mass graves. The ones who convinced themselves they were good people simply because they didn't pull the trigger or operate a gas chamber. The citizens of nations of the Allied powers who turned away Jewish refugees from Europe. The Nazi sympathizers in the US. The vast ,expansive hatred against Jews that prevented anyone from intervening on our behalf.

Sit with the fact that nobody intervened to protect Jews, ever. The Allied powers intervened to stop German expansionism, not to protect Jews. They did not fight in WWII to protect Jews. That any Jews survived at all is a miracle. The fact that the camps were liberated at all is a miracle. Because it wasn't a goal. It wasn't something that people were fighting to achieve. That's what people don't seem to understand.

Killing Jews WASN'T the thing that the Allied powers had a problem with.

Plenty of Americans and Europeans from Allied nations thought it sure was a shame that Hitler was so aggressively expansionist, because he had some great ideas about how to kill all those Jews.

And unless you're Jewish, there is the extremely uncomfortable but likely chance that someone you loved was pretty OK with killing my family.

Or, at the very least, that someone killing my family was not something they had the emotional capacity or willingness to engage with. Think about what that does to my trust for YOU. And if you don't think that someone you loved passed on that apathy and antisemitism to you, then you're naive.

The only correct way for a non-Jew to read this book is to sit with who they are as people and think about how they treat Jews and try to empathize with how this indescribable tragedy affected and continues to affect Jews worldwide.

If you have never read this book, I want you to think long and hard about how absolutely terrifying it is for Jewish people that, I, a Jewish woman, have to BEG non-Jews to read it. Because your education system failed you. And because Jews are afraid that YOUR BEHAVIOR WILL DO THIS TO US AGAIN.

The wrong way: Making this true memoir about living through an industrialized genocide about ANYTHING other than antisemitism and antisemitic apathy. You don't get to use it to draw parallels to other atrocities or wars or people. At least not during/while processing your first reading of this book. Why? Because until you sit with your own internalized antisemitism, where and who it came from, and are willing to confront your own hate toward us, then you are missing the point. The point is that people can convince themselves they are good and that they care about their fellow humans and they can have empathy for everyone except Jews. Sure, they might think it's sad that bad things keep happening to Jews. But it never really seems to be the priority, does it? It never seems to be a pressing enough issue to be worth addressing. There's always something more important happening.

That's antisemitic thinking too. You do, actually, need to prioritize dismantling your antisemitism in order to, you know, dismantle it. Just because you don't sit around daydreaming about Hitler doesn't mean you're not antisemitism. Ignoring us is part of your antisemitism--one of the most damaging and intrinsic parts of antisemitism actually. The Holocaust did not happen because most people hated Jew enough to kill us. The Holocaust happened because a bunch of people didn't care enough Jews to stop the people who DID want to harm us.

If you can't think of the last time you tried to unlearn something antisemitic within yourself, then people like you are why the Holocaust happened. If you have had to tune out Jewish pain because it feels like a "distraction," then people like you are why the Holocaust happened. If your reaction to reading this is to feel some kind of righteous anger that I've called you a bad person because you have proof you care about other people, then you are the kind of person who allowed the Holocaust to happen. And you're also wrong.

Because I'm not calling you a bad person. I'm calling you a flawed person who has the ability to fix a flaw that has the potential to harm others. I'm not asking you to care about other, non-Jewish, people. And I'm not asking you to STOP caring about the non-Jewish people you care about.

What I am saying is that claiming that you care about Jewish people is not the same as actually caring about us.

I'm asking you to sit and read this book and to remember that it is about JEWISH PAIN and a JEWISH TRAGEDY that happened to JEWISH PEOPLE. You need to actually devote time to caring about Jewish people, because society never taught you how to do that, and it has no infrastructure built to help you do that. Because antisemitism is baked into the infrastructure itself. Take the time. Read the book. Let Jewish pain be about Jewish people. Let us own our own tragedy. Do not take it from us to apply to other situations. ESPECIALLY not when the actual original situation was something that nobody cared about enough to prevent.

Understand this: If you're not Jewish, there is no way I can explain to you how painful it is to watch people be so invested in likening every terrible thing that happens to any other group of people to the Holocaust, when those same people never actually first tried caring about the Holocaust and the people it actually happened to.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Not Exactly Babysitting

Warnings: its the boys so I mean cursing, vulgar language, sex, violence

Reader has a nickname/supe name of Blaze due to her power being pyrokinesis

Butcher calls you for a favor.

NSFW content

"Luv, I need a favor and it's a big un" why did you answer the call? Why when the moment you saw Butcher's name you didn't stomp on the damn phone and act like you'd fallen off the face of the earth? Because you were a supe,your mother having decided to let her newborn be shot up with compound v as part of an experiment. Anything for a check.

Butcher would've heard if a supe was found dead, especially if it was one with pyrokinesis. He tended to keep a check on you. Or well he got MM and Frenchie to keep a check on you. "What is it now Billy?" He was the only person you knew who would be thrown off more by you calling him by his first name then his last. "I just need you to keep an eye on someone for me. I wouldn't call if it wasn't important. This can help us take down that cunt homelander once and for all"

Fuck he knew that was one way to get you on board with any dumbass plan he'd cooked up. You wanted Homelander's head on a pike as much as he did but you weren't strong enough to take him on. "God dammit Butch" you mumbled and could practically hear the grin in his voice when he said "attagirl. I'll text you the address. Get here soon"

You hung up the phone hearing your text alerts ding. You weren't surprised to see the address was some two bit hotel. How the hell had you ever gotten dragged into Butcher?

As you drove you remembered the first time you laid eyes on William Butcher. It was about three years after his wife had been killed or assumed killed as you later learned. You'd just gotten cleared from a supe medical center.

You'd been approached about the seven and turned it down. Homelander hadn't been appreciative of that. Even with your healing and strength he'd nearly killed you. Vought had deemed it an accident of course and threatened to not "intervene on your behalf with the law" considering You'd destroyed half a city block with fire during the attack.

When Butcher approached you he offered one thing, revenge on every damn supe who saw themselves as above the law, as something more than just people who'd been shot up with drugs.

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

Somewhere along the line you'd fallen in bed with him more than once. The first time you were both drunk off your asses, celebrating taking down a rogue supe. The things that damn man could do with his tongue would curl your fucking toes.

After that he'd sworn it was a one time thing. Until the next time the two of you were alone, within five minutes of Frenchie leaving the safe house Billy's fingers had been buried inside of you pushing you over that edge and praising you for how gorgeous you were and how tight your cunt was. Needless to say MM hadn't spoken a word to either of you for the following week when he walked in to you bouncing on Butcher's cock.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, loosening your grip on the steering wheel enough to realize it had small scorch marks on it. Thankfully you'd paid for full coverage when you rented it. You checked your phone to see you weren't but half an hour out. There was no guessing just what awaited you.

You rolled up and cursed the moment you saw Butcher with Hughie in tow. If it was just the two of them? It was an enormously stupid idea but you were already here now, might as well see what it was right?

You slowly climbed out the car glaring at Butcher as you said "Hey Hughie. How's Annie?" He seemed a bit uncomfortable but still replied "She's um she's good" you knew something was up but took him at his word before turning your attention to Butcher "So I'm here. What's the job?" He grinned "Blaze, looking gorgeous as always" you rolled your eyes so he motioned to the stairs behind him "Follow me luv"

You took a deep breath then fell in step next to him "Where's Frenchie and MM?" "Slight difference of opinion but they'll get over it when we take down Homelander" you had a bad feeling that only worsened when he opened the door leading into room two twenty three.

Sitting on the bed was none other than the original supe, the one everyone had long assumed dead. Soldier Boy. You cut your eyes at Butcher "You mother fucker. What did you do?"

You could feel Soldier Boy's eyes on you but didn't look in his direction. You'd heard plenty about him and had seen all the propaganda they'd done with him back in the day. What didn't add up was how was he still so damn young, why was he working with Butcher and where had he been to make Vought announce to the world that he'd been killed?

"You remember Frenchie texting you about Russia?" Yeah you'd been on the west coast and couldn't get back to help in enough time. "Yeah but I thought it was a botched thing considering he also texted me that Kimiko was healing from it"

Butcher waved a hand towards Soldier Boy who'd stood off the bed, staring at you as he asked "Who's this?" You turned to face the man and had to admit he was fucking gorgeous. You'd seen photos and videos but damn they didn't do him justice. He was about Butcher's height, broad shoulders with emerald green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose spreading over the top of his cheeks.A smirk snuck onto his face when he realized he had your attention "What's it to you?" You quickly snapped at him trying to hide your initial attraction.

----------

He wasn't a good guy. You knew he wasn't a good guy. "Oh she's feisty. Damn Butcher why did you hide her this long?" Butcher reached out and grabbed your wrist that was closest to him and it was only then you noticed the flames dancing between your fingertips "Oui sweetheart, since when are your powers so touchy?"

Hughie and Soldier Boy alike were looking at your hand. "Y/N, you good?" Hughie asked and you cut your eyes at him "I'm fine" you flexed your fingers effectively extinguishing the flames before asking Butcher again "What's the damn job?" "Me and Hughie have to run down some leads. Soldier Boy here can't be left alone that long. Too many gunning for him and he ain't exactly used to life the way it is nowadays" "Plus he's um radioactive" Hughie added nervously.

You glared at Butcher shaking your head slowly "Fuck you. I'm not babysitting a supe that's old enough to be my father if not my grandfather and ten times as powerful as me who happens to also be fucking radioactive!" You made it to the door and was about to storm when Butcher said "He can burn the compound v out of Homelander."

You turned back to face him looking towards Soldier Boy "Can he actually do that?" "It's what Kimiko is healing from" Hughie replied. "And you'll help us kill that bastard?" This time your questioned was aimed at Soldier Boy "I'm a man of my word. Me and Butcher have a deal"

You sighed, purposely knocking your head against the door as you did so "How long?" "Two days" you looked up at Soldier Boy "I might not be able to kill you but make a move I don't like and I will burn your fucking dick off, got it?" He seemed amused by your threats but nodded nonetheless "Yes ma'am"

You'd gotten to the hotel around noon, Butcher left around three. It was now ticking towards midnight and the tension in the room was beginning to strangle you.

Empty food cartons, a few soda bottles and a half empty bottle of bourbon sat scattered around the room from both of you making efforts to not have to converse. You were sitting cross legged on the sofa in the room doing your best to ignore the man who kept glancing your way during his spouts of how much time had changed.

You half laughed considering you were reading on a kindle. When he'd asked what it was and you told him just how many books in total it could hold he had looked at you like you'd grown a second head. Rather it being that you were reading for amusement or the technology side you weren't sure. He was holding to his word to not come close to you but a bit of the old fashioned misogyny kept peeking out every now and then during his ranting.

After a minute you figured fuck it, why not poke at the radioactive supe who could probably survive you lighting him on fire five times over. Butcher had told you the basics of his story, betrayal of his team and what not.

You turned your kindle off and stood to walk across the room to your duffel bag. You'd discarded your jeans in favor of cloth shorts and the shirt you'd been wearing for one that you honestly weren't sure where it came from. It'd seemingly appeared in your laundry rotation and was comfortable so you kept it. You knew you'd be forced to stay here and while the couch wasn't the most comfortable thing you would at least dress the part.

---------

"So should I call you Y/N or Blaze?" He asked and you glanced over your shoulder seeing his eyes were lingering on the tattoos that littered the bare skin of your legs. "Either or. Fuck I've been calling you Soldier Boy for hours. What the hell is your real name after all?"

He raised his eyes back to yours as he took another swig of bourbon "Ben" you nodded approvingly "Ben. Good name, points for the fact that it's extremely moanable" you had to stifle your laugh when he nearly choked on his drink. God it was kind of funny that you could catch him off guard so easily.

"Take a breath. Just saying do you know how awkward some names are? I mean guy can be fuckin gorgeous, hitting it just right but if his name is something like Wesley? Kills the mood moaning that. Ben is something light that would slip out easy" he watched you walk back over to the couch and you could see the wheels turning behind those green eyes.

"So what's the story with you and Butcher?" He asked after a minute. Your surprise showed on your face so he shrugged "I notice things darling. It's apparent you two have rolled around a few times. He doesn't seem to like supes too damn much despite the circumstances and choices he's making so how'd he end up bedding one like you?"

You shrugged that time before saying "He's good with his tongue, fingers are extremely nimble and his dicks a good size nice and thick but not too long that it would hurt" "So you a couple?" You couldn't help but laugh "That's a no. See Ben nowadays us women can fuck who we wanna without settling down. We have iuds, multiple forms of birth control and a few different types of condom"

-----------

"I bet you would be one helluva fuck" he gave you an appreciative once over so you gave him a smile "Oh honey, you may be a stronger supe than me but you're a lot older than me too. I may end up hurting you" "You saying Butcher's a better fuck than you think I'd be?" He seemed so insulted by the idea it was almost humorous, almost. Had it not been for the weight of his gaze making heat pool in your lower stomach.

You let a flame flicker across the fingers of your right hand as you held his gaze "Just saying women nowadays know what we like and what we don't. I've brought Butcher to his knees before. You're a supe, yeah compound V is pumping through your veins but a man's a man. The reason I've fucked Butcher is I'm always in control of what happens. He doesn't make a move without checking if I'm cool with it"

He nodded slowly "So you like being in charge?" You shook your head "Not as much in charge as being able to trust my dancing partner wouldn't step on toes and ask before he tries any lifts" "A real man knows not to take anything that a woman isn't offering fully to him and if she changes her mind that's her choice" fuck you hadn't expected that answer out of someone like him.

"Are we talking here or are you trying to fuck me because I'm getting mixed vibes" he barked out a laugh at your words. "Damn Y/N, I see why Butcher likes you" you shook your head with a laugh "I think it's time we call it a night. You got enough of those horse tranqs to pop so I don't have to worry about getting fried if anything decides to pop into your subconscious?" He shrugged "Yeah there's enough. I'm gonna finish this bottle first though. You need any precautions to feel safe enough to sleep around me"

You held his eyes for a moment before standing up. He seemed unsure as to what you were doing, when you got over to the bed he raised an eyebrow and when you reached for his hand he let you. You laid it on the thigh of your left leg using your hand to guide his fingertips across the scars hidden beneath the ink "I couldn't heal this. I took a shotgun blast to the fuckin chest from half a foot away and not a scratch but this? I can't heal. I sleep alone because the last time I shared a bed with someone overnight I nearly burnt him alive, Butcher forgave me of course considering why but believe me when I say you'd be the least of my nightmares no matter how dangerous I know you are"

He gripped your thigh firmly but not enough for it hurt "That why you're gunning for this Homelander prick?" You nodded "I'm going to sleep" he motioned to the bed "Take the bed at least. I'm good on the couch"

You tossed and turned, trying to talk your mind into sleeping. Ben was watching some movie but he'd moved the television so your half of the room was in mostly darkness and had the volume low. Of course you could still hear it but you appreciated the thought. He was still an abrasive, old timey misogynistic asshole but he was a bit more human than Homelander or it seemed so at least.

You could feel the heat in the room on every inch of your body. Had you been home or even in a safehouse with the boys you would've stripped down to your sports bra and panties but you didn't want to put on a full strip tease for him.

----------

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Ben cleared his throat "Do you need one of the tranqs? Or a shot of liquor, something?" You sat up smoothing a hand over your hair and was able to bite back something snarky but your reply was caught in your throat.

After he'd showered he hadn't bothered to throw a shirt back on. Meaning he was sitting on the couch in just Grey sweats. His hair was falling forward over his eyes in places and God damn just how broad was that mother fucker? He looked like he took up most of the couch.

He looked towards you and a crooked smirk slipped onto his face "Y/N...Blaze...you good?" You didn't know why but instead of coming up with an answer you let the truth fall from your lips "You may be an asshole but you are fucking sexy as hell" he laughed lightly and even that sound was deep enough it made your stomach flip. Fuck, were you horny? Was that why you couldn't sleep?

"I guess I should say thank you at least? Still don't answer if you need something?" You swallowed the answer you wanted to give which was along the lines of "Please ruin me" God damn when had you gotten so pent up?

You shook your head "What are you watching?" He shrugged "I don't fuckin know. Just some shit that came on while I was in the shower" you shoved the blanket off and walked across the room, nearly doubling in laughter when you realized fucking Soldier Boy had scrolled through the channels and landed on fifty shades of Grey.

"Oh this movie and the books were horrible" you moved to sit on the couch so he sat up a little straighter teasing "Don't want my dick burnt off after all" when you cut your eyes at him.

You curled up on the cushion, not missing how close his bare shoulder was to you or how much heat was radiating off him. "Is it a by product of the actual radiation or have you always ran hot?" You asked and he glanced at you "Have always ran hot" you nodded, trying to pay attention to the God awful movie but it's like there was a magnet drawing you towards him. It was a bad idea, a horrible idea really.

He kept his eyes on the TV as he spoke "I'm just gonna throw this out there Y/N but if you want to touch me anywhere feel free" you felt your face warm up and this time it didn't have a damn thing to do with your powers "What do you mean?" He turned towards you slightly, almost touching you in the process "You've been staring at my chest. Your hand is close enough that if you barely move it'll be on my shoulder. If you want to touch me, do it."

You weren't sure if it was the underlying challenge or the promise that he held in his eyes for at the very least one helluva good time that pushed you into motion.

You reached a hand out to run across his chest, tracing his muscles and testing the water. When he didn't move, simply followed your movement with his eyes you smiled to yourself "Ben?" He met your eyes "Hmm?" "Do you want to touch me?"

He raised an eyebrow "This you saying you want me to touch you?" Fuck it, this was a dangerous game you were playing but you'd ran with the boys for years. It's not like you planned for the long time so might as well have a good time, right?

You braced your hands on his shoulders before swinging your legs across his lap to be straddling him. He watched you silently, those damn green eyes tracking your smallest movement. You could feel the way his body quickly reacted to you, his cock hardening underneath you. Fuck, he was thick and had a good length too. The thought occurred to you that he'd been locked away in Russia a very long time.

----------

A light groan left him when you rolled your hips just slightly against his. "Tell me what you want here doll?" His voice was so damn deep it rumbled through your chest. You leaned close enough that your lips were just shy of touching his "I want to see if you can make me scream your name or if you're all talk" he didn't respond instead he simply gripped the back of your head pulling you into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth that left you breathless when he pulled away to look you in the eye "If anything is too much burn me if you have to so you can get the point across"

You nodded pulling him back into the kiss. You felt his hands slip under your shirt and a light shiver ran through your body at how his rough hands felt on your skin. A gasp left your lips when he stood up suddenly, supporting your weight with one hand under your ass. "I need more room than that damn couch" "Promises, promises" you muttered and he gave you a grin that couldn't be described as anything but devilish. No wonder there were numerous tales of people selling their soul, if Lucifer looked anything like the man holding you.

He dropped you on the bed causing you to bounce twice with the force. You glared up at him "Could've been a little easier" he shrugged "What, are you already gonna tap out just because I dropped you on the bed instead of placing you gently?"

You leaned back on the palms of your hands looking up at him "Are you already tapping out because you're afraid you may rank lower than Butcher?" "Oh I'm gonna make you regret that one Y/N"

He climbed onto the bed, you could feel it dip under his weight but your eyes were glued to his "Anything off the table?" "No anal and if you try any slapping shit I'll light your ass up" he grinned "Sounds good to me. Gonna take that damn shirt off?" You reached for the hem of your shirt but his larger hands covered yours, helping to remove the piece of fabric from your body.

You felt a little too bare until he let his lips trail down your neck then across your chest. He licked one nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You couldn't help the moan that escaped you or the way your back arched into him. He let his other hand trail across your stomach, causing you to inhale sharply when his fingertips dug into your hips about the same time he bit down just hard enough to cause a scream to escape you.

When he pulled away from your breasts he smiled up at you "Still in for this? Cause right now you're looking like you're all talk.." you could tried to press your thighs together,not only to soothe the ache starting there but in an attempt to hide just how soaked you already were from kissing and light petting.

You pulled him up to your lips, kissing him roughly before taunting "says the man who's barely touched me" at your words the hand that bad been teasing at your hip moved to pull your shorts off your legs. You lifted your hips just enough to ensure he didn't rip the shorts getting them off of you. When you were completely bare to him he sat back on his heels. "What?" You asked, moving to cover yourself but he was faster, pinning your arms down over your head "Let me look at you Y/N. Damn it's been years since I had a woman as gorgeous as you underneath me"

You rolled your eyes but before you could think of a comeback any words were ripped from your mind by one thick finger slipping through your folds. He easily found your clit, teasing at it. You moaned at the sensation causing him to add a second digit. He curled them both up,hitting that spot inside of you "I'm gonna fuck you with my fingers, then with my tongue then if you think you can take more I'll use my cock. That sound good princess?" You nearly whimpered, the feeling of that knot in your stomach growing tighter with every movement of his fingers.

Just as you'd nearly reached that peak he stopped his movements. "Ben!" You whined and his laughter hit your ears "I asked you a question" you swallowed hard, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. He leaned over to kiss your thigh before beginning to move his fingers again "It sounds good. It sounds good" you panted worried he'd stop again when you could already feel the pleasure building "Good cause I want to feel you cum however many times I can"

He went silent attacking your neck and chest with open mouthed kisses and light bites. You were like putty in his hands when you finally came. You laid there trying to catch your breath only to feel his hands spreading your thighs.

When he first licked into you a cry escaped your lips. It was too fast after an orgasm, you were too over stimulated and dear God what the fuck was he doing with his tongue?

You didn't want to praise him, didn't want to let his name escape you as a moan but when he locked his lips around your clit his name slipped from your lips like a fucking prayer "Fuck Ben. Feels so good" you felt him smile against you right before another orgasm washed over you without warning.

----------

The bastard kept going even after you soaked his beard and the bed underneath you. You shoved at his head "Enough. Enough" he gave one final kiss to your clit before crawling back uo your body "Where's that girl that was talking shit about me being an old man?"

You groaned pulling him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips "I take it back, you're pretty good with your fingers and your mouth" "Oh i must have lost a few steps. You're still talking shit" you glanced down between the two of you, seeing he still had his sweats on "I must have lost a few cause you're still wearing pants"

He rolled his hips against yours when he kissed you pulling a moan from you at the feeling of his clothed erection rutting into you "Are you gonna fuck me or just tease the shit out of me?" He gripped your hips suddenly and flipped both of you where his back was down to the bed and you were on top of him "You want my pants off? Take em off"

You weren't one to back down from a challenge so you kissed him one more time, savoring how he chased your lips when you moved away. You kissed down his neck, tentatively biting the places that made his breathing quicker. You were rewarded with a deep groan and his grip on your hips tightening.

You moved further down kissing across his chest,letting your nails tease the skin there as well. When you got to the waistband of his sweats you left a kiss on the smooth expanse of hip that was peeking out already. You reached a hand under his sweats, feeling his hard cock react to your touch the moment your fingers grazed across it.

You held his eyes as you pulled at the pants and he eagerly lifted his hips off the bed to assist you. You knew your eyes had widened when his cock sprung free. Fuck he was big, almost too big in length and a delicious girth.

You licked a strip from the base of his cock up to the head. "Fuck Y/N" hearing your name fall from his lips spurred you on. You knew you couldn't take all of him but that wasn't gonna stop you from trying. You wrapped your lips around his cock slowly going down, you gagged slightly when you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

You pulled back up repeating the motion twice, taking more of him in each time. You used your hand to give the rest of him and his balls attention, carefully rolling them between your finger. Hearing someone that you knew was as powerful as Soldier Boy being a moaning mess under your touch? Well a girl could have a worse means of a confidence boost.

----------

"Y/n...blaze..." Ben reached for your hand. You pulled up from his cock with a wet pop to look at him "What's wrong?" He shook his head with a grin playing on his lips "Feels too damn good darling. I ain't fucked nothing in years and my stamina is good but I'll be damned if I'm coming anywhere but in that tight little pussy of yours" you laughed lightly kissing your way back up his body until you were effectively straddling him. "Then by all means let me oblige you" you lifted up slightly feeling his hard length poking at your thigh. You gripped him tightly before bringing him to your entrance.

He reached for your face, pushing the hair back of out it so he could watch your eyes as you lowered yourself onto his cock. You had to go slow, taking him in little by little but once he was finally completely inside of you, your hips flush against his you knew he felt the full body shiver you had. You couldn't hide it. He was so damn big and filled you completely.

You gave him a strained smile "Give me a second" he pulled you forward to kiss across your chest "I get it baby. It's a lot to take" you would've slapped him for the condescending tone had he not shifted his hips slightly as he spoke. "God damn you" you muttered, bracing a hand on his chest.

He shot you a smirk "What's wrong?" You moved your hips in a small circle, feeling that the pain from being stretched out had given way to the pleasurable feeling of being so damn full. "Nothing" you finally replied starting to roll your hips. His eyes fluttered shut as you started to bounce, fucking yourself on his cock.

"Attagirl. Holy shit" he was mumbling under his breath, gripping your hips tightly. He started to bring his hips up to meet every movement of yours. Your nails were cutting into his chest but neither of you cared "Fuck I'm close Ben" you moaned so he moved one hand between the two of you, fingers quickly finding your clit to rub tight circles on it "Come for me Y/N. Let me feel that perfect pussy squeeze my cock"

Between the movement of your hips, driving him deeper inside of you than you'd ever thought possible and the movement of his fingers it wasn't long before you were seeing stars. The third orgasm of the night washing over you.

He eased you down against his chest, holding you to it as he turned you both back over. His cock never slipped out of you. "This ain't fair, I've came three times already" you mumbled weakly. He chuckled, catching your lips in a kiss "Oh darling if it ain't at least a five to one thing then I need to head back to Russia and let em put me on ice. Best part is seeing the woman you're with falling apart" he nipped your neck over your pulse point "Especially seeing one as strong as you fall apart"

-----------

He began to rock his hips against yours, painfully slow thrusts that had tears forming in the corner of your eyes because even after three orgasms your body was screaming for more. "Ben..uh fuck...please" he leaned down enough to catch your lips in a messy kiss "Please what Princess? Use your words"

"Fuck me hard Ben. I need it. Please" "Never would pegged you for the begging type" he teased so you glared up at him "Butcher never makes me beg" the moment the words left your mouth he pulled your legs up to his broad shoulders nearly folding you in half.

The new angle meant with every snap of his hips he was hitting that spot that made you see stars. Your eyes were screwed shut, riding out the pleasure that borderlined pain the most delicious of ways. "Uh uh uh. Eyes open Y/N" you opened your eyes as his thrusts slowed just enough to bring you back from that edge "The fuck?" "I want to see those eyes when you come on my cock. I want you to see me fucking you"

You forced your eyes to stay open as he pounded into you, catching your lips in a frenzied kiss. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer as that knot within you threatened to burst "Ben..oh fuck.." you moaned as the knot burst, orgasm washing over you, lighting your entire body on fire. You had to look where you were connected to Ben to ensure the pleasure hadn't caused your powers to topple out.

----------

He worked you through your orgasm then pulled out causing you to whine at the loss of contact "Turn over" those two words quickly reignited that fire in your stomach. You did as he asked and the moment you were on your stomach he used one hand to pull you up to your knees, pushing your upper half down on the mattress "You still with me here Y/N?" You nodded but felt a warm kiss on your shoulder before he bit down "Verbal answer darling. I need to hear it"

"Still with you" you panted before adding "and that's four" you could practically feel the smile on his face when he nipped at your neck "Means one more and I can fill this pretty little pussy up"

When he slid back into you, the feeling was nearly overwhelming. He chuckled darkly "Your poor little pussy is nearly fucked out. Almost too swollen to take me" he snapped his hips forward drilling into you to the point you could feel his tight balls slapping against your ass "Almost"

A string of curses mixed with his name left you as he pulled you up until your back was against his chest "God damn I can feel you throbbing around me. You already close again?" You nodded weakly so he left a kiss on your neck then leaned you back forward where your hands could grip the headboard. "Good cause I'm about to fuckin bust here" he admitted reaching one hand under you to play with your clit as his thrusts got even harder and faster "Just need to feel you come one more time"

You could feel the warmth spreading throughout you again as you gripped the headboard trying to ride out the feeling "Fuck.." a broken cry escaped you as your fifth orgasm of the night washed over you. His hips didn't slow any, working himself towards that release. "Come for me Ben, please fill me up" you begged and your words mixed with how tight your walls were squeezing him pushed him over that edge.

He nearly collapsed as he spilled deep inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. "God damn" he muttered before pulling out and collapsing next to you. "You good?" He asked breathlessly, pushing your hair back so he could see your face "I'm good" he nodded then glanced up and started laughing "What?" "Bed's not"

You followed his line of sight and saw scorch marks on the headboard where your hands had gripped "Shit" he shrugged "Can always say you tried to scorch me but I got out the way. Don't worry Butcher will never know"

You were half asleep when you felt a warm rag between your legs "Shh, just cleaning you up a bit until you're up for a shower" "Thanks" you managed to slur out.

After Ben cleaned you and himself he walked back out of the bathroom "Do I still need to take the couch?" You raised your hand enough to flip him out causing a loud laugh to escape him.

You felt the bed dip next to you before his head leaned over on your back "You a cuddler?" You asked in shock. He shook his head "hoping if I'm close enough you may want one more round when you wake up" "Go to hell Ben" you replied feeling his hand slide around to play at your nipples "If this is the ticket to hell I've done a hell of a lot worse"

The next day you were freshly showered with your duffle repacked when Butcher called to see if you needed anything before he got back to the hotel.

You and Ben had ended up going for another round in the bed and once in the shower. Luckily he hadn't left any marks that couldn't be covered with clothes because most of your body was littered with light bruising from his lips and teeth.

He watched you talk to Butcher then when you hung up he raised an eyebrow "Lover boy almost back?" You rolled your eyes "He's about twenty minutes out" he let his eyes slide across your body "I could make you cum one more time"

You shook your head "If it weren't for the advance healing I'd be barely walking as is" he nodded "We could make out till we hear that shitty car?"

You shrugged "Why not" Ben was across the room with you in his arms and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment you agreed.

----------

"He give ya any trouble?" Butcher asked standing next to your rental car. You shook your head "No more than you usually do" he nodded "Could I call ya if we need any more help on this job?"

You shrugged "Try to make things right with MM and Frenchie then maybe you can call me for more help on this job"

His eyes flickered down towards your lips and you laughed lightly "I said help on the job Billy" "Yeah yeah yeah" he replied leaving a kiss on your cheek before heading back into the hotel.

Not Exactly Lying

[bestworstcase]

anyway about cinwin and my ongoing losing-the-plot situation: i think it’s really interesting to lay what winter does in v8 against cinder’s whole thing—because winter witnesses the culmination of ironwood’s military coup when he shoots councilman sleet and then glances across the hallway to make eye contact with harriet, only to see her slam down the standard-issue indifferent “what are your orders, sir?” mask, whereupon winter realizes that a) everybody here except her is going to fall in line, and b) she’s stuck in a hospital bed right now and if she speaks out ironwood is just going to shoot her too, which helps no one. and therefore c) it falls to her to get back on her feet as quickly as possible so that she can do what she can to be a guardrail.

every choice she makes after this point is a calculation: what are the general’s orders, what is the right thing to do in this situation, and how can she—to the greatest degree possible—bend the former to meet the latter, until that becomes impossible and she intervenes to protect marrow and get both of them safely into a position to help. which is to say, winter spends the majority of v8 actively undermining ironwood, without him noticing. as he says, he expected betrayal at every turn but never from her.

and of course when they fight in the end it’s, “you closed the borders! you squeezed mantle until it broke!”—her trust and faith in him have been diminishing quite literally since the fall of beacon. likewise in v7, when winter is alone with people she trusts (weiss, penny) she is quite open about the fact that she doubts and wrestles with the choices ironwood is making, and it’s clear from what she says that this is very important to her; that—whatever she thinks of herself—winter has never been one to blindly follow orders.

the point being, winter is in fact exactly the kind of person ironwood, on paper, should have been monitoring for any hint of disloyalty, except that she hides her skepticism and personal disagreements so well that he doesn’t suspect a thing until the very moment she gently questions his orders to his face for the first time ever in a last-ditch effort to talk him down, and then almost literally stabs him in the back when he doesn’t waver. WHO DOES THIS SOUND LIKE–

this is , er, Cinder Behavior. the flawless mask of whatever the distrusted authority figure wants to hear hiding loyalty that is extremely conditional? the utter lack of self-worth. the covert subversion and open defiance? they do those in reverse order of each other in v8 but it’s the same in principle.

this in itself is not suggestive of a romantic arc being in the cards however, it does mean that winter is—out of the heroic cast—uniquely equipped to Understand Cinder Fall, for reasons of wearing masks herself in addition to being intensely concerned with the morality of her choices.

(there is something very compelling about winter specifically hearing… anything about rhodes, because winter is the ultimate symbol of atlas in cinder’s mind—a schnee, a soldier, a huntress—and winter would also be viscerally horrified by the way rhodes handled the situation. it’s an obvious narrative opportunity to wrench open a second crack in cinder’s worldview; winter is the last person cinder would expect to be outraged on behalf of the enslaved girl who killed her abusers.)

in conjunction with everything else… hm

[symphonyofsilence]

I love Wangxian as much as the next guy, but my unpopular MDZS opinion is that both LWJ & WWX after the resurrection were really shitty brothers. Both to their own brothers and to each other's.

Like...JC just threw himself in front of WWX & his boyfriend & Jiggy's sword & took a stab to the chest just narrowly missing his heart, & Wei Wuxian DIDN'T EVEN ASK HIM HOW HE IS! I'm sure JC didn't want him to thank him, but totally ignoring that & forgetting about it is... you know, not fine. even LXC was more worried about his wound. After the temple, when everyone was talking to everyone else, & WWX thanked JC for giving Chenqing back to him, he doesn't even wait until JC's answer is fully out before he immediately turns back to look at LWJ!

Even JL who wasn't talking to JC at that moment saw that JC had something to say! But WWX not only didn't give him a chance to talk, but didn't even have any interest in what he had to say, and wouldn't listen to him just like all the other times when JC tried to talk to him (Repeatedly reminding WWX of his promise & even asking why didn't you go back to Lotus Pier). As you try to do, after you brother has returned from the dead, after causing his own death, your sister's and your brother-in-law's. WWX doesn't think that that's an issue that they need to talk about. Because it's unpleasant for him. While he is not the one who's owed an explanation or an apology. He's not the one who gets to decide if they're having this conversation or not. Let alone asking about JC's wound! WWX! just! Left! With! His boyfriend! & didn't look back! Not even after JC's public meltdown!

And and, what's worse, for both LWJ & WWX is this! Here is what happens when JC is trying to have a conversion with WWX about the non-consensual surgery WWX performed on him by mutilating himself on JC's behalf:

Why yes, he is injured, Hanguang-Jun! He's injured because he threw himself in front of WWX & you little fuck!

He does this once, and it causes JC's wound to open and start bleeding again, and then he goes to do it again!

It's a matter that seriously needs discussion, Hanguang-Jun. JC's world has turned upside down without him having a say in it or even being told about it for years, Hanguang-Jun. JC has every right to talk about it to the person responsible, Hanguang-Jun. It's a family matter, Hanguang-Jun.

And ffs What do you think WWX's brother wants to do to him?! After he took a stab to the chest for him?! He is wounded and his spiritual energy is sealed, what can he do? He's going through it right now in front of everyone. why would you humiliate him even more?! They're brothers! It's none of your business!

And WWX doesn't say anything! It's Jin Ling who must beg Hanguang-Jun to spare his uncle!

(I think they understood what a shitty move it was in the CQL, cause WWX at least lifts a hand to stop LWJ there. And LWJ doesn't actually push JC, opening his wound again, And then try to do it A SECOND TIME AFTER THAT!)

Like...Beating someone's family member in front of them is a very, very rude thing in general when they're themselves handling the situation very well. They were just having a family argument, and LWJ felt the need to beat JC. If you want to de-escalate a family argument, you do it the way JGY does. Or LSZ, A CHILD, de-escalates situations. While respecting both parties. Or else it just escalates even worse.

And this happened at the Jiang ancestral halls, too. WWX was the first to attack JC (which was totally within his brotherly rights when JC was being a little shit) and JC counter-attacked. JC's spiritual powers, unlike WWX's and LWJ's, hadn't returned yet. WWX totally got this. It wasn't their first time fighting. OK, LWJ deflected the first blow of Zidian. He didn't need to intervene further when WWX was beating JC in JC'S ancestral hall. WWX himself passed out when he realized wtf he was doing. (& bear in mind that hours ago, JC with his spiritual powers sealed, barely able to walk, picked his sword and was going to go back for WWX in the burial mounds, before he knew about the golden core thing)

Imagine your friend invites you to their home which they've ran away from when they were very young, their sibling that now owns the house lets you in even though you don't even say hi to them or acknowledge their existence there in anyway, & your friend invites you to somewhere you really have no business being in. IDK. Say, the master bedroom that's been locked ever since their parents' death. Your friend's sibling arrives there and they have an argument. You get offended in the crossfire but your friend leaps in to protect your honor, by beating the said sibling. The said sibling beats back. Can you imagine actually beating the sibling?! Trying to separate them, sure. But beating them?!

& others have talked in depth & better than I about how LXC just murdered the love of his life after some very shocking revelations & was 100% ready to die with him & was clearly going through it & LWJ just left with his boyfriend to fuck when LXC was the one who was there for him when HIS boyfriend died. Like..no LWJ didn't leave his brother after a few days. HE LEFT HIM THAT VERY MOMENT! DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HIM A HANDKERCHIEF OR A PAT ON THE SHOULDER!

And people have also talked better than I about how WWX didn't tell LXC about Sisi bc...he might have shown JGY mercy?

[froggibus]

hi! may i request junkerqueen with a s/o who is overworked and kinda anxious about it? need some comfort lol

Overworked! Reader - Kiriko, Junkerqueen & Widowmaker

Genre: fluff + comfort

CW: Widow being inept when it comes to emotions, Hanzo Appearance, Junkerqueen trying her best, very self indulgent tbh

i was weirdly excited to write this + there is *someone* else I know who ALSO tends to overwork themselves and not get enough sleep >~> so maybe if she sees this she’ll cave lol

————

Junkerqueen 

whether it’s for school or work or something else, she doesn’t understand why you’re pushing yourself so hard

you’re such an amazing person!! what more do you have to prove?

she notices the signs a little late tbh but doesn’t want to stress you even more by having a serious conversation 

so she leaves you be 

it isn’t until she notices you constantly shaking your legs/hands and pacing that she feels the need to step in 

“y’alright baby? you seem…stressed.”

you try to reassure her that you’re just so close to finishing this project

but of course you’ve been saying that for the past week

just because you keep taking on more and more work cause you’re scared to say no

“you’re gonna work yourself to death like this, hon.”

she backs off for a bit and you think you can get it done

until she comes back and drapes a blanket around your shoulders and kneels down in front of you

she’s so huge she’s eye level

holds a cup of water to your lips and makes you drink

“you’re taking a break, okay? let’s go take a bath.”

you don’t really get a choice cause it’s come willingly or she will drag you to the bathtub 

rubs your hair and asks you to tell her what you’re thinking as a way to organise your thoughts and settle your anxiety

catches the warning signs way earlier next time and stops it before it gets worse

Kiriko

kiriko herself probably takes on way more work than she can possibly handle for herself 

but that’s ok cause what she’s really worried about is you

when you’re constantly tense and hunched over one document or the next, just trying to memorise everything you need for midterms 

you KNOW all of the material too but you’re so worried you’re gonna forget it all

Kiriko just watches you with a sigh, wondering if she should intervene 

probably asks another chronic overworker (Hanzo) for advice 

comes home one day with all your favourite stuff 

comes up behind you while you’re studying and hugs you tightly 

kissing your neck and rubbing your shoulders 

“let’s take a break baby, okay? i got you ice cream”

literally pries you away from your work and brings you to the couch

brings over all the snacks and drinks she got and starts your favorite movie 

lays on the couch with you on top of her, tugging at your hair and rubbing your back

 Widow

she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to so it’s confusing to her when you’re taking on a bunch of extra work 

“i can’t let them down!”

you’re trying to be calm but she notices the way you’re constantly on the verge of tears 

probably really frustrated on your behalf too

goes and  threatens talks to whoever is forcing all of this extra work on you

when you come home with a lighter work load you’re happier but still anxious, wondering if they’re giving you less cause they’re going to get rid of you

so now she’s confused over your anxiety 

before bed one night and wraps you up in her arms and wraps her legs around you too

it’s weird but the pressure is nice???

“what are you doing”

“your heart is racing, chérie.”

she holds you tightly until you’re relaxed enough to fall asleep 

ponders how she can make you feel better tomorrow morning

masterlist

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Moving into the 60s! Yay! 🎉🎉

The final stretch of this story is upon us and I am pleased to say that it has held up so well for a drama of this length! There may have been some bits and pieces that I enjoyed less than others but I never once lost interest, which is great! And even the parts I didn't like are actually not bad, just maybe not on the level of the really, really good ones, which is a completely unfair comparison, because those are just insane.

***

Heh.

***

AND HE IS INTERVENING ON HER BEHALF. AGAIN.

He dared to cry after Madam Zhang! He dared!! And here he is again, taking the side of this idiot brat who nearly killed her.

I am so done with him. SO DONE.

***

LMFAO.

If it bothers you so much, you can fuck her in the dark.

***

Smart woman.

***

Okay, so that is maybe not so smart.

***

Who cares what you think?

You are also an enabling idiot who does not care to distinguish between right and wrong when it benefits your friends.

***

LMAO, the Empress knows that Minglan is the only one with intelligent advice to give 🤣🤣

***

LMAO, what Changbai. What Sheng Hong.

If she had been born a man, she would be running the empire.

***

You are also an idiot and also digging your own grave.

However, the Emperor is less stupid than General Shen and you will never get to run amok the way your other idiotic counterpart did.

***

LOL, the way the shit on all her grand plans 😂

She was counting on them being arrogant, protecting their own and giving her room to turn the court against them. No such luck!

***

LMFAO, at last, a man gets punished for something he is actually guilty of.

If Gu Tingye shows up and volunteers to take the caning for him, I will riot.

***

Oof.

So, life imprisonment it is, then.

Appropriate, considering she tried to murder a woman. Minglan did warn her that she would be the one suffering all the consequences when this came to a head but she refused to listen. She now gets to experience the full spectrum of the find out phase after indulging in all the fucking around.

***

LMFAO, the complete lack of self-awareness and personal accountability, I cannot 🤣🤣

Such garbage people.

***

What the fuck.

What is she supposed to do with her newborn, then?

Hell world.

***

Yes! Charge out!

Start fighting by murdering your shit husband and becoming a wealthy widow. Fuck the temple and becoming a nun!

***

LMAO, this imbecile.

After all that, she still tried to sneak out and disrupt the party.

Luckily, it seems like General Shen has learned his lesson.

***

Watch this idiot go out and speak up for her.

I know this drama is trying to portray her as sympathetic but she also has shit for brains and I just want to smack her.

***

Oh my god. How long are you going to keep taking credit for your sister's actions?

The nerve! This whole family is so shameless and opportunistic.

Also, I keep wondering about this dead sister. By all accounts, she was a reasonable woman. If she could see, she would probably be so ashamed of her family. They are using her sacrifice to coerce the goddamn Emperor to let them commit crimes with impunity. I feel like she would kill herself from shame.

[utilitycaster]

What about Hallis as Ludinus' parent? Ludinus could hear the tale of the gods choosing this ailing boy to survive and hear not mercy but capriciousness, or a designated survivor vainly intended to sing the gods' praises despite the horrors they wrought that same night.

Also, the possibility of Hallis not surviving doesn't necessarily disqualify him from being Ludinus or having known Ludinus; if the PCs hadn't intervened on his behalf then those character beats can just be shifted or discarded behind the GM screen. Sure, it would be a moment of seeing the levers behind the curtain and I think both Matt and Brennan are aware of that, but devils' advocate and all that

Hi,

I'm going to preface this with an admission I am currently in a generally positive but extremely stressful personal situation right now, and so my capacity for patience, which has never been precisely high, is even further reduced.

With that in mind if you ever see someone say something as noncommital as "this theory isn't terribly compelling to me and lacks any hard evidence, but it's certainly within the realm of possibility" and your response is "I'm going to play devil's advocate", unless you know that person well and know they would be amenable to this sort of debate, I would advise against doing that and perhaps search your soul to explore why you felt this was called for.

You are welcome and indeed encouraged to disagree with my opinions at any point. Believe me, if I thought this theory was utterly without any merit or validity I'd wouldn't have minced my words in saying so. But, and I think my pinned post says this more nicely than I'd otherwise put it at this moment, "If I simply have differing opinions or choose to explore a different space than you do, that is because life is a rich tapestry full of diverse perspectives."

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs The Good Place S3

Michael personally intervening on behalf of all of his friends is SO SWEET. I love him

Honestly I am eating up Tahani’s fake Vogue interview, I love one (1) out-of-touch celebrity

“K, will you make me the happiest man in the world and agree to be my wife?” Jason proposing to every person he meets is also endearing in its own way. He’s so sincere about it LMAO

Patiently awaiting when he proposes to Chidi and Eleanor. Even Pillboi was not immune 

Honestly sneaking around and altering the mechanics of the universe that more powerful immortal beings are overseeing has worked in Michael’s favour so far, so why stop now?

Silly of them not to caption it, but pretty certain Chidi’s French dialogue exchange was, “T’es prêt, Chidi?” “Allez-y sans moi, je suis là.” “D’accord. À tout à l'heure.” (”Ready Chidi?” “Go on without me, I’m [almost] there.” “Alright. See you later.”)

Eleanor getting immediately defensive about being present for Chidi as if they have not been drawn together in like 800 separate universes:

“Chidi, your brain is broken, you need to fix your brain.” Uzo said: Good friends tell you when you need therapy

“You just march into my office unannounced, tell me your brain is broken, and demand I drop everything and just put you in the university’s 3 million dollar MRI machine?” This is why Chidi and Eleanor are soulmates LMAO. Very goal-oriented 

“You’re so weird. Let’s go!” I like Simone even though I’m certain she’s not Australian

Hahahahahah Eleanor imagining everyone in every story as sexy explains a lot about how she operates. That and she has hot friends

“We torture like 30 billion humans. Why do you care so much about these four?” Glenn asks a very reasonable question

Hahahaha I wonder how they decide what things to describe as objectively terrible in this show. Is it one writer or is it by committee

“Goodness isn’t something that a person inherently has. It’s something that she achieves through her actions.” I love how in every abstract example they use ‘she’ instead of ‘he.’ Both because Eleanor is the main character and because it’s refreshing

“I can’t just do things like that.” Chidi confirming he has never made a move on anyone and has only been subject to his girlfriend’s moves

“I’ve been running simulations on what their kids would be like. One of them is hot enough to be on The Bachelor, and smart enough to never go on The Bachelor.” LMAO JANET 

Also Michael said: Team Cheleanor 4 eternity (me too)

Also also also: Janet finally embracing Michael as her dad for one (1) minute hahaha

Michael’s love and want to help his friends also being their downfall 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭:

“I was never really that into her, no offense.” Eleanor immediately charming Tahani by not caring about her sister hahah

Tahani said: Uno reverse, I’m the Buddhist monk now, Jason

Tahani turning her near death experience and subsequent moral crisis into a self-help book that makes her more rich and well-known than before. Honestly good for her, get ur money girl

“I want you thinking about dance 24/7. That means every day you think 20 thoughts about dance for seven minutes.” Jason’s dialogue continues to be as iconic on Earth as it was in the afterlife 

I love that we’re finally meeting Donkey Doug of the Sixty-Person-Dance-Crew-Boogie-Board-Moral-Relativism story:

Fhfhkfhfkjhfkjfh all the people who walked out because they weren’t allowed to crime LOL

“When I’m with you, I feel like the sky’s the limit.” Pillboi is also a good friend, if not a good person kghjkghgj

“But I met new friends who helped me become a better... person.” I love Michael and Jason’s existential heart-to-hearts. I think he resonates with Eleanor and Jason most for obvious reasons

Also the hesitation for Michael to describe himself as a person HA

I also love the Side Arc of Michael making friends with Burt Hummel, the Doorman to Earth Who Loves Frogs:

“We did it, Janet. We got away with it,” said Michael, in what I’m sure isn’t foreshadowing of this immediately biting them in the ass

OMG NOT THE RETURN OF ADAM SCOTT AS TREVOR THE ME TOO DEMON LMAO

I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t until the whip-it cannisters that I understood that a whip-it is a physical object and not an action, and apparently a more sophisticated equivalent of huffing glue. Who knew? Not me!

“Darling do you remember all the rules about what can and cannot be worn in an MRI?” Tahani calling Eleanor darling <3 Also take off the metal girl 

JANET’S ON EARTH AND READY TO FIGHT FOR HER HOMIES:

(Drive-by commentary that Janet is hot—the uniform suits her!)

Janet and Michael are really struggling to deal with their mortal coil(s)

Firm believer that consensual sex between informed adults is morally neutral, but Tahani and Jason flirting does feel like infidelity lol (poor Janet)

“I’m sorry, but [not being friends] is just how it has to be.” IS THAT TRUE, CHIDI

Demon-All-Knowing-Personal-Assistant-Nicer-Demon standoff in the bathroom

“I got a solid eight minutes, not consecutively, but that’s fine. You’re barely even blurry.” I know it’s probably not in my best interests to strongly identify with Chidi but I strongly identify with Chidi

I’m very glad that Jason and Tahani didn’t drunkenly hook up but I do still view any of their flirting as an affront to Jason’s wife Janet LOL

“I’m asking you as a friend,” said Chidi, while simultaneously also not letting go of the belief that it’s unethical for them to be friends

“These four humans are all I care about in the universe.” MICHAEL ❤️

NOT THE JUDGE BLAMING MICHAEL AND JANET FOR BREXIT AND THE GREATEST SHOWMAN LMAO

I was certain Simone wasn’t Australian but it turns out that she’s British which kind of tracks accent-wise

“Good luck, Frog Man. I’m pulling for you.” HAHAHAHAHA Jeff (Burt Hummel) is a perfect addition to Michael’s incredible group of friends

They also all have in common a disregard for authority

NOT JANET AND MICHAEL STALKING THEIR FRIENDS LMAO

“I’m sad to inform you I’m too stupid and ugly to be in the study and I’m going home to my mommy.” Michael’s schoolyard insults are something else

I do think Eleanor having to work an in-between job would help provide a sense of normal moral conditions for her. Morality does not exist in a vacuum of your closest homies, even if Janet and Michael want it to be so 

“If I’m going to the mall anyway, I might as well pick Jason up some jean shorts. The kind with the frayed edges, where you can see the pockets coming out of the bottom. So that he can study better.” Janet wanting to get her secret husband a Christmas present

Tahani hooking up with Larry Hemsworth who also has self-worth issues in relation to his more famous siblings hahahahha

“You and Jason, imagine that. Actually, I have.” Eleanor is truly attracted to ALL of her friends

“I gotta go barf one last time, and then I’ll be ready to study philosophy.” That sums up my university experience

I know it’s just one little split-screen but Eleanor singing happy birthday (which she said she hated doing for coworkers) while Jason reads a philosophy book on his own time...... I love them

“I can’t wait til we move far away from the likes of you, and I can finally take her last name.” I’m kind of rooting for Larry Al-Jamil

“Feeling like your little team is the last thing standing between you and oblivion, and that at any moment, the universe could fold up around you and squeeze the last breath from your dying lungs.” Michael’s pep talks have gotten a lot more morose since the Sports Bar

“Let’s all stay here, and keep it going,” said Eleanor, in a moment of emotional vulnerability that she is definitely going to regret immediately

Eleanor smashing a cake out of caring about other people too much vs. her first smashing a cake out of caring about her self-preservation too much is really a full circle moment:

“As humans evolved, the first big problem we had to overcome was ‘me vs. us.’ Learning to sacrifice a little individual freedom for the benefit of the group. You know, sharing food and resources so we don’t starve or get eaten by tigers, things like that. The next problem to overcome is ‘us vs. them.’ Trying to see other groups, different from ours, as our equals.” Ohhhhhh we’ve hit upon the moral underpinning of the season. Hello, our new Kierkegarde

“This is all we have, Janet. We have Chidi, and Eleanor, and Tahani and Jason and that is it.” Michael I think it’s time for you to make some new friends 

“Serious question? Should we kill them?” HAHAHAH MICHAEL. He said improvise adapt overcome baybeee

Once again the rules of the afterlife seem so unfair because they learned about it by accident and they’re just people who really love their friends

I love how absurd this show is. I 100% accept that time in the afterlife moves in a Jeremy Bearimy and that nothing never happens on Tuesdays and July

“Now that I know how it all ends, I just want to be virtuous for virtue’s sake.” Tahani takes down the concept of moral desserts in one single sentence:

Also her skin is literally sparkling, everyone in this show is SO pretty

Honestly shocked it’s taken this long for Chidi to quote Nietzsche 

Chidi said: I heard you were calling everyone hot, I would like to submit my name for consideration:

Also Chidi finally fulfilling the ‘surprisingly ripped’ prophecy with a full-length shot of himself shirtless LOL

“And then, a recommendation of how we feel the afterlife could be improved. And we turn ourselves in, we’ll give it to the judge. Hopefully she’ll read it. We failed, Janet. But maybe one day, someone else will succeed.” Michael having goals of improving the afterlife beyond his immediate circle of friends 😭💘😭💘😭💘😭💘 I LOVE ONE (1) DEMON

 The little nod to the young-person-older-person tech divide with Michael

“In America, everyone does what they want. Society did break down. It’s terrible, and it’s great!” HAHAHAHAH I know someone enjoyed writing that

Eleanor going on a whole adventure for this man’s wallet ❤️ That’s my girl

HAHAHHAA is the concept of getting into heaven the only thing between Chidi and knocking around mountains of junk food shirtless at a grocery store:

Chidi’s boisterous “Hello!” after the morose groceries got me 

The cut between Chidi giving up his car and not really seeing anymore purpose to anything he does in life and Tahani and Jason joyfully chucking money to people is this meme:

Also Jason offering money to the baby is PERFECT, I LOVE HIM

“I could’ve gone to a real doctor, instead of pretending I was a big dog, so I could go to the vet.” Will someone save the United States of America

If Canada ever privatizes healthcare, I will have to move or die

It’s actually the mark of a good bank that they won’t just let Tahani impulsively transfer all her money, prevents financial abuse

“You’re a good person, Eleanor. I really hope my daughter turns out like you when she grows up.” ELEANOR 😭😭😭😭😭😭

HAHAHAHHAAH CHIDI’S STUDENTS WATCHING HIM MAKE M&M-PEEPS-CHILLI

“The actual ethical system that you should all follow is nihilism.” The meme was foreshadowing. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it become explicit, he is a moral philosophy professor

CHIDI TRYING TO TAKE THE CHILLI WITH HIM LMAO:

NOT JASON AND TAHANI GETTING MARRIED. WHERE DOES BIGAMY FALL ON THE POINTS SCALE LMAO

Appreciate the immediate clarification it was platonic tho

I don’t blame Tahani for forgetting Larry Hemsworth because I also forgot Larry Hemsworth until he reappeared even though it was literally one episode ago they established their engagement kghkjghg 

All of them deciding to be better people for other people’s sake, including Janet and Michael, who are not people 💗 [CHIDI VOICE] SIMPLY PUT, WE ARE NOT IN THIS ALONE 

“Nathan Burlingame.” “Didn’t like you.” “Kylie Mansnard?” “Thought you were cool but intimidating.” “No way! I thought she was intimidating. That’s why I shoved her into that creek.” I love that we’re acknowledging Eleanor’s bisexuality outside of her friend group

Happy Pride Month to Eleanor, whose methods of showing affection are consistent

“I’ve done that to dozens of people, and all of them got over it.” “Actually, none of your exes have ever got over you.” “You’re damn right they didn’t.” Hee hee hee Eleanor 

“I’ve heard you mention your friend Pillboi many times, but I’ve not heard you mention your father once.” “What do you mean? I talk about Donkey Doug all the time.” WHAT!!!!!!!!!!! HONESTLY THIS HAS SHOCKED ME MOST IN THE SHOW SINCE THE REVEAL OF THE BAD PLACE

Jason’s Dad Donkey Doug 🤝 Eleanor’s Mum

Immediately hitting on their child’s partner when they meet

“That’s the first time that line has ever failed.” Jason touching his heart like he’s proud of her for not having sex with his dad LMAO:

“Do you spray it on yourself, or do you drink it?” “You both it.” Someone give Pillboi an MBA

“More guys should be bi. It’s 2018. It’s like, get over yourselves.” HAHAHAH Eleanor, defeating internalized biphobia, one guy at a time

Michael 🤝 Chidi

Fixing all of their problems with reset buttons

Unequivocally, someone dumping me while giving me a puppy would be the best way to break up and I would forgive them immediately. Chidi has cracked the code:

HAHAHAHAH ELEANOR USING HER TIME IN THE SIMULATION TO VIRTUALLY MAKE OUT WITH SIMONE 

“You hooked us up with [redacted] channels every year since the third grade.” MAYBE DONKEY DOUG SHOULD BE IN JAIL

“What a weird creep. Why was I friends with him?” HAHAHA Tahani finally name drops someone who she dislikes and it’s Elon Musk, perfect

[Talk-To-The-Hand Gesture] “Ya dumped.” KHGHGKHGKJ this is what happens when you spend so much time with Eleanor. Also how did we get from puppies to this

“Hey, call me Donkey Dad.” Awwww. I don’t think prison would make Donkey Doug better but he definitely made the right call in taking the blame for the factory robbery

“My feelings have changed. I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t.” This is both honest and also alludes to the fact that Chidi can and will have feelings for Eleanor

Michael’s little [“you okay”] smile to Janet when Jason calls Tahani his wife ☹️☹️☹️☹️

Tahani’s immediately hostile expression on learning that one of Eleanor’s parents is alive and made Eleanor mourn them or no reason:

Love this episode of Tahani and Eleanor confronting their family trauma head on

“Can we do this for all the paintings?” JANET-JASON BONDING TIME ❤️❤️❤️ THEY ARE THE SLOW-BURN ROMANCE AT THE HEART OF THIS SHOW

“Young lady, you will stop this nonsense, go to the PTA meeting and support your mother, I won’t hear another word about it.” AWWW MICHAEL TRYING OUT THE DAD VIBES

“All of your fears are mine now.” Lmao @ Kamilah sussing out the one thing that could disrupt Chidi’s pursuit of helping his friend

Michael The Eleanor’s Dad Friend and Torture Architect and Dave The Eleanor’s Stepdad and Regular Architect is sooooo cute. I love when Michael makes new friends

“Why can’t you accept that she might be living a good, honest life? That she’s an attentive partner and a good mom?” “Because I wanted that mom!” Wow this really is the sibling trauma ep 

 Michael referring to himself as Eleanor’s self-appointed father figure 😭❤️

 “They were wankers, weren’t they?” THIS IS SIBLING CULTURE!!!!

Hahahaha Michael’s little suspicious side comments about human things like going to the bathroom kill me 

Also the fact that they have human bodies on Earth but no digestion LMAO

“I’m glad my mom has changed, but that doesn’t fix all the damage that she did to me.” A healthy and honest way to look at it ❤️

“I have no real ability to gauge physical attractiveness in humans.” Michael said: Don’t ever ask me if you looked hot again, Eleanor, it’s icky and I hated that

I love the Mirror Centaur, it’s both a good bit of self-reflection for Tahani and an expansion of the lore

Eleanor and Chidi’s love story is cute but I am threatened by title of the ep (The Worst Possible Use of Free Will)

“There’s no such thing as soulmates, you dingus.” OMG MICHAEL

“It’s a basic reality show playbook. Put a bunch of attractive young people in stressful situations, so they act like idiots and have sex with each other.” ELEANOR EXPLAINING HER FEELINGS AWAY WITH DETERMINISM AND REALITY TV

However, she makes some pretty good points lmao 

I love seeing what they write on these Split-Second Prop Boards LOL:

“What if all YOUR choices are predetermined?” Eleanor said I see your 15-million-point-torture-plan, Michael and raise you one (1) frustrating woman who has studied a lot of philosophy and hates admitting to affection 

“Because if everything is determined and we have no free will, then all this stuff we’re doing to put more good into the world is pointless. And I want to believe that it matters.” MICHAEL ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ WE LOVE ONE (1) DEMON WHO LITERALLY UNDERSTANDS THE MECHANICS OF THE UNIVERSE AND STILL CHOOSES TO HAVE HIS OWN BELIEFS

Omg hey Vicky aka Real Eleanor, long time no see

I have no idea who they’ve cast as the model of Humanity’s Potential for the Good Place in Rural Canada but I am hoping and placing my bet that it’s William Daniels (Mr. Feeny of Boy Meets World)

Update from 10 seconds later: IT’S NOT, IT’S DOUG FORCETT, THE GUY WHO GUESSED MOST OF THE AFTERLIFE

Ggkhgjhgkjh all these reflections on how people help each other to become better, and Janet and Michael choose Doug Pisswater, Friend to Snails, as their new Jesus

I love when Jason and Chidi hang out. It teaches Chidi to chill out!! The lessons go both ways

“When is the right time to tell someone you were passionate lovers in an alternate timeline in the afterlife, but he doesn’t remember because technically none of that happened in this strand of the multiverse?” I feel like this is a better question for Eleanor to ask Janet than Tahani

Hee hee hee, Jason and Chidi bonding is soooo cute:

OMG THIS HAS ESCALATED SO FAST, THE BAR OF DEMONS HAS ARRIVED

Still kills me that Bambadjan is playing Bambadjan

Also, HOW DOES DOUSING A MOLOTOV COCKTAIL IN ALCOHOL NOT ACT AS AN ACCELERANT 

“Screw this. Let’s fight.” YEAHHHHHHHH JANET, GET ‘EM

Honestly, for a show about morality, it has been surprisingly void of fight scenes until now

“Is it just me, or is Janet a straight-up hottie right now?” I gotta applaud Eleanor for her consistency

“I don’t want just any wasp nostrils, I want these wasp nostrils.” I guess Janet and Michael have inadvertently made their friends the most desirable people for the Bad Place because it’s been so hard to keep them in hell LOL

[Kicks Shawn through a portal] “I mean, why let the guy keep saying mean stuff?” Michael and Janet are an unbeatable duo

I love that they’re starting to actually interrogate the system itself:

Season 1: Something is wrong in the Good Place - we will learn about ethics to earn our place here

Season 2: We need to escape the Bad Place - we have learned enough to justify not being punished for moral failures we have made progress on

Season 3: We have escaped death, but now we need to decide what goodness in people actually means, and why we are even subscribing to this model to begin with

Incredibly impressed by D’Arcy Carden’s ability to embody each of the other four main characters. I wonder if they did this shot for shot with the other actors!!!

“So, literally the entire universe is against you.” Poor four humans, caught in the middle of an interdimensional ethical struggle

“If I’m right, we will find proof that the Bad Place is tampering with the points system.” Call me crazy, but I think the underlying issue is the existence of a point system, and I hope there’s something beyond that scope that explains why the afterlife is so fucked up

“We’re in a void, in the body of a white lady--” “Not a lady.” I also love this consistency and Janet’s she-her-and-Not-a-Lady energy

“Let’s all say white people things. ‘Billy Joel.’ ‘I found it on Etsy.’ ‘There was nowhere to park.’ ‘Did you refill the Brita?’” HAHAHAHHAHAHA I also love that 3/4 of the people Janet is embodying are not white. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I died and woke up white. I don’t think I’d do well as a white person

ELEANOR USING THE VOID TO SUMMON A PUPPY FOR CHIDI. I LOVE HOW MANY DOGS CHIDI GETS TO PLAY WITH THIS SEASON, IT’S SO MANY MORE DOGS THAN ANY PREVIOUS SEASON

“Richard Moore of Sugar Land, Texas, hollowed out an eggplant and filled it with hot sauce and nickels.” I don’t know why this is so funny, but it is

Eleanor 🤝 Chidi 

Using philosophy lessons to explain away your feelings

“Just because you don’t remember doing something, doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. I have no idea how it happened, but there is definitely a tattoo on my butt that says, ‘Jasom.’” Jason’s philosophical commentary is both practical and true 

Michael is so mad for humanity not being allowed into the Good Place ❤️‍🩹

I’m now leaning towards the idea that there ISN’T a Good Place. Why haven’t we met anyone from there, expect that one person in that Mindy St. Clair video LOL

“I was just chillin’ being nothing, and then all of a sudden, I was.” Hahahah, Void Pillboi thinks, therefore he is 

“When was the last time someone got into the Good Place?” “The last time someone got into the Good Place was... 521 years ago.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The real question is how Jason-Janet and Eleanor-Janet managed to switch clothing without Chidi-Janet noticing LOL they’re all in one void

[In falsetto] “I’m Chidi, I’m Eleanor, I’m Arizona shrimp horny.” Every line on this show, but especially Jason’s, deserves an Emmy

I just looked it up and this show didn’t receive a SINGLE Emmy? Whack

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WE ARE FINALLY GETTING JASON TO KNOW THAT HE AND JANET WERE MARRIED AGAIN (this is also how I feel when I look at Jason:

“If he’s not gonna to fix this, who is?” “You, Michael.” DEMON FRIEND GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chidi monologuing everything he knows about Eleanor to save her identity because who she is matters so much to him 🥺❤️🥺❤️🥺❤️

I CANNOT BELIEVE WE GOT A SIMULTANEOUS JANET/JANET, ELEANOR/JANET, CHIDI/JANET KISS. INCREDIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOOD FOR THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I need one of you to volunteer to do something outrageously insane that will either make you cease to exist or be really fun.” JASON JASON JASON

HAHAHAHAHAH the immediate follow-up in them realizing it didn’t actually give them any information by having Jason go up the mail tube first

“Holy forking shirtballs. We’re in the Good Place.” WOO, GO TEAM COCKROACH

“What kind of a messed-up place would turn away refugees.” SO many, Jason 

HAHAHAHAH Jason adding insane and bizarre details to their lies, but to be fair in a Good-Place-Accounting-Bad-Place trichotomy I guess it is somewhat believable to be chased by a Dracula with a bazooka

Awwwww now Chidi is comforting Eleanor about her Good Place crisis! You know what that is! Growth

I love Gwendolyn the Good Place Mailwoman With No Follow-Up Questions

“I feel bad that I sort of like, read her diary, and she doesn’t know.” Jason has his own moral code and it incudes minding ya business ❤️

“Why not have our first date four Oreos away from paradise?” Chidi DOES have a romantic bone in his non-corporeal body

“Every single Bad Place employee is a disgusting monster.” Awww, poor Michael

“Are all humans as attractive as you two [Tahani and Jason]?” [Chuckles] “No.” TRUE LMAO HOTTEST FRIENDS

CHIDI DRESSING UP A SEXY MAILMAN FOR THEIR FIRST DATE. BEST BOYFRIEND

How is letting people be tortured for hundreds of years a morally neutral action? I just don’t believe that this version of the Good Place exists

TAHANI MAKING AN DEATH DID US PART CERTIFICATE SO JANET AND JASON DON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE TAHANI-JASON MARRIAGE. I LOVE THESE FRIENDS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“’There is only one time that is important, now. It is the only time when we have any power.’“ I love Chidi’s philosophy comments that are driven out of love from the people around him. I know he’s quoting Tolstoy but still

“You gotta try.” ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ELEANOR SHELLSTROP, PHILOSOPHER

Eleanor using this as an immediate segue into sex HAHAHAHA

“There are so many unintended consequences to well-intentioned actions. Feels like a game you can’t win.” THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING

TAHANI AND JANET CRYING BECAUSE THEY LOVE THEIR FRIENDS SO MUCH AND JASON CRYING BECAUSE HE LIKES TO BE PART OF THINGS:

“Any chance I can change real quick?” “No.” TIME TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE AS A SEXY MAILMAN, CHIDI

“Do you wanna try being boyfriend-girlfriend?” “I’m not a girl. But yes, I’d very much like to go on a date with you, somewhere, sometime.” JASONJANET IS BACK BAYBEEEEEEEEE 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

“I never yelled at Big Noodle for being late again, because I knew hard it was for him to be there.” I LOVE philosophy lessons with Jason

Michael keeps saying if people don’t agree with him, they can kill him and his homies, as if he has not, at every turn, gotten his friends out of harm’s way every single time someone has wanted to get rid of them, and literally in the same episode said he would throw them into the next dimensional portal to keep trying. Michael said: My moral code is Janet’s ride-or-die protocol

“Also, I guess I’m Black, and they do not like Black ladies down there.” HOW CAN THE ALL-KNOWING JUDGE OF THE UNIVERSE NOT KNOW ABOUT RACISM AND MISOGYNOIR???

“Oh no, you are nobody’s problem, sweetheart.” Finally someone other than Eleanor appreciating Chidi for his looks hahahahah

Jason and Janet are so excellent at communicating their feelings. ALSO I LOVE JEALOUS JASON, RECIPROCITY:

It has not been lost on me this whole time that Janet and Jason, and Chidi and Eleanor, have had to fall in love at least three separate times over three separate universes over three separate seasons. I can’t wait for them to get some time to actually BE in love, together, continuously

Also I hope Tahani finds someone she loves (though gunning for it not to be a white man though LOL)

NOT ELEANOR REQUESTING TO LIVE IN THE TORTURE CLOWN HOUSE ❤️ I ALSO KINDA MISSED IT

OMG NO THAT’S SO SAD, THEY’RE GONNA MAKE THE FOUR HUMANS EXPERIENCE ACTUAL TORTURE (NOT JUST EMOTIONAL TURMOIL) FROM THEIR BEST DEMON BUDDY’S FACE

“It’s going to be so amazing watching your four BFFs look so sad and betrayed and confused, as you, their reformed demon daddy, unleash a swarm of... penis-bees.” EVEN SADDER, THEIR REFORMED DEMON DADDY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 MICHAEL!!!!!!!

Michael experiencing his first panic attack in the very first step of the experiment lmao

HAHAHAHAHAHAH Eleanor immediately jumping in as architect. There were so many better ways to handle this. Just have Janet knock him out again 

“You’re like the Blake Bortles of whatever’s going on right now.” These is a very good compliment from Jason, he holds Eleanor in high esteem

ALSO JASON BEING BACK IN HIS JIANYU OUTFITS HA

NOT JOHN BEING THE PEREZ HILTON OF THE GOOD PLACE

I like that Simone’s back, and I hope she ends up as Tahani’s lover this time around, that’d be fun and a nice way to wrap up the couples

Chidi requesting for a mind-wipe to avoid his ex so he has to fall in love with Eleanor a fourth (FOUR HUNDREDTH) TIME OH MY GOD 

“This is a classic human situation. Your friends are going through something awful, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Harsh but true

“Every time you see me get a stomach-ache, imagine I’m thinking of you.” “So, all the time.” 😭😭😭😭😭

Of this whole romantic montage of all of Eleanor and Chidi’s memories, it’s them on the boat together that got me. Eleanor being part of Chidi’s idea of a perfect day. Something something existing in each other’s comfort zone

I did not expect for anything to make me tear up but Chidi’s voice breaking as he said he was going to miss Eleanor got me

“Time means nothing. Jeremy Bearimy, baby. We’ll get through this, and then you and I will chill out in the dot in the i forever.” Chidi is SO romantic now. That’s growth!!!!!!!!!!

Eleanor and Janet have truly been on the same romantic page this whole time. They have parallel journeys of love and loss

“In the words of the man that I love: I got you dog.” JANET 😭❤️ 

I really do love this show so much 

[wangxianficrecs]

flower of justice by neoncoin

flower of justice

by neoncoin

T, WIP, 18k, Wangxian

Summary: Convinced his brother won't survive the punishment for disobeying the elders after Nightless City, Lan Xichen intervenes, and pleads insanity on Lan Wangji's behalf. A few years later, little A-Yuan makes friends with a strange man who lives in the Gentian House. (And a few years after that, Sizhui helps plot an escape attempt.) Kay's comments: Are you prepared to have your heart absolutely destroyed? Then you should definitely check out this fic, because ouch, ouch, ouch, my heart. Just thinking about this concept hurts in the best way possible. In this story, Lan Xichen was convinced that his brother wouldn't survive his punishment and so, he had him imprisoned in the Gentian House instead. One day, little A-Yuan finds his way to the house and befriends the strange man who lives there, who looks a lot like their sect leader... Excerpt: The door slides open. A-Yuan is so surprised he almost falls over, and then he looks at the person who opened the door, and really does fall over this time. "Sect Leader Lan," says the man, his voice cold. Then he blinks, and looks down. The man and A-Yuan stare at each other in mutual astonishment. The man is presumably surprised to see A-Yuan instead of the person he was obviously expecting, Zewu-jun, and A-Yuan is surprised because for a bewildering moment, he was convinced the man who opened the door was Zewu-jun. [...] "Are you a ghost?" A-Yuan asks without meaning to, and then immediately flushes with mortification. The man who is not Zewu-jun does not splutter in outrage or laugh at him, but A-Yuan sees a flash of something dart across his face, quick as a koi. "I am not," says the man, voice much less icy. He tilts his head. "You are lost." It's not a question, but A-Yuan nods miserably anyway. "I was chasing a rabbit," he explains. The man raises a single eyebrow. "It was black and fluffy and it let me pet it and I wanted to pet it again." "Understandable," says the man solemnly. A-Yuan can't tell if he's making fun of him or not. "It is growing dark and cold. Would you like to come in?" "Yes!" exclaims A-Yuan, slumping with relief, and scrambles to his feet so he can bow. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

pov lan sizhui, pov lan wangji, canon divergence, angst and hurt/comfort, thirteen years of wei wuxian's death, gusu lan sect punishment methods, location: gentian house, lan family feels, madam lan, hurt/comfort, twin jades of lan dynamics

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[esther-dot]

Re: Virgin Mary anon.

You said pretty much everything in your answer concerning Dany.

I’d like to add something about “The Mother” and Sansa.

In ASOIAF Sansa is clearly identified with “the Maiden” and “the Mother”, therefore she is a very young, naive and generous “Mary”, like at the Annunciation (I don’t think Martin is intending to make her end the series still a maiden but bear with me) and she is the only character in the series so far to sing The Mother’s Hymn. Sansa learnt the Hymn from her mother Catelyn btw.

The Mother’s Hymn is obviously an anti-war manifesto:

Sansa as an “intercessor”, and as a mother of human children is being set up as a foil to the Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire, Daughter of Dead.

I saw sometime ago a meta about the dragon symbolism related to Daenerys in Apocalypses but I can’t remember the writer, it might have been @reginarubie maybe?

(continuation of this convo)

Thank you, @minitafan ! I completely agree about the song, and the fact that Sansa ends the threat of violence with it and by showing compassion certainly makes her a contrast to Dany.

Sansa begs for Joffrey and Arya to stop fighting in her first chapter, she begs for Lady's life, she pleads to save her father, she intervenes on behalf of Dontos...I think you're absolutely right that Martin is assigning her the "intercessor" role/advocate for peace.

Also, the pity she feels for Tyrion and the Hound is highlighted, even as they wrong her. Martin making her notably compassionate, even to villains and enemies of her house makes it all the more pointed.

I tend to agree that the natural resolution would be children for her, as part of this contrast between the two "mothers" (dragons/war/vengeance -- children/peace/mercy) we're being given. It isn't quite enough to be "mother of nations" when there's such a theme of literal motherhood in her chapters. Also, Lyanna is the most obvious person connected with "mother", I mentioned Cersei and Cat as takes on it as well, but at this point in the story, we don't have the good answer to Dany’s “mother” unless of course, it is Sansa.

Let's see that meta about Dany, @reginarubie!

[fairytail-whathesays]

Hi, I noticed that you particularly like Angel | Sorano Aguria out of all the O6 members (besides Cobra | Erik). She doesn’t seem to get as much appreciation as her guild mates (no matter the guild, at least for the right reasons) or fellow important characters who are celestial mages/wizards. I would love it if you could share your thoughts about her in more depth, particularly her relationship with the Gemini twins. I kind of assumed because she was a ‘bad owner’, seeing them firmly as different from humans unlike Lucy, and Gemini seemingly left her at the first opportunity that their relationship wasn’t of much note but I’m happy to be proven wrong.

You didn't say the word "headcanon", but I'm gonna put it in the same format, so I hope that's okay!

I would characterize Angel's relationship with her spirits as akin to that of Mistral and her underlings from Metal Gear Rising. To quote Bladewolf:

"Mistral demanded 100% obedience. So long as it was given, she treated me well."

It's visible in how she treats them in her one major episode--when she summons Caelum with full intent to use its powers to do grievous bodily harm, she asks "I've got some targets for you! Are you excited?" the way a pet-owner might ask their puppy about a treat or a toy. Gemini appeared to have inherited some of Angel's worse qualities while in her care, but was still definitely happy to serve her until realizing the depth of Lucy's kindness. Likewise, Scorpio didn't seem to have any major complaints, and Aries still held onto her pride (which she can't have had a lot of) to fight Loke on her behalf. Really, it says something about what an epic bitch Karen Lilica was that Angel seems downright preferable in comparison.

Granted, it helps that Angel's an extraordinarily powerful wizard. Not only is she not the type to make shields out of her spirits, she likely never needed to, as they would've benefited from her magic power fueling their own. Gemini casually mimicking both Lucy and Gray, very powerful wizards in their own right, says she's probably among the stronger half of the Oracion Seis.

Angel was, in fact, a deeply religious person, and she was raised in a god-fearing household before being kidnapped as a child. When she was imprisoned in the Tower of Heaven, she honestly believed angels would intervene and save her and the others. Technically someone did rescue her--Brain--and she took part in his critical imprisoning of what is, to any account that matters, a demon (Zero), so she maintained a surface-level faith for a few years. It's no surprise the direction her magic took when she made the sacrifice for power, and she likely had a hand in plotting to use Zentopia to mask the Reborn Oracion Seis' activities.

Of course, Angel's understanding of god and angels, if they exist, is very warped and superficial. The trauma she had of being a prisoner twice over among the abuse she endured at the Tower and being raised by Brain from there has given her a shit ton of baggage that had affected her beliefs in higher powers, leading to the tipping point where Angel became barely lucid, placing so little value in her own worldly experiences that she was effectively sui/cidal. She became an atheist effective X791.

After having the "core" of her angel-summoning magic shrunk down by Habaraki (the jousting lance Dan Straight used on her), her magic has changed. It does technically still take her life force as fuel, but in very miniscule amounts--what used to cost whole months to summon now takes a minute's worth of life force or less. The difference is made up with her tremendous magic power and her angel summons are still as terrifyingly mighty as ever.

There was a time when Angel wanted to start practicing celestial summoning magic again and eschew the unhealthy angel magic. However, she realized that this was effectively trying to run from a problem instead of deal with it healthily, and has since decided to stick it out and give the angel magic better purposes than she was using it for, especially since she's probably not a very attractive business relationship to celestial spirits these days. Despite this, Gemini, Aries, and Scorpio are open to interacting with her again, even if they consider Lucy their true master.

[saezurufeels]

Let’s consider: Doumeki intervening between Yashiro and Kido is good, actually.

Has there ever been a person that’s cared enough about Yashiro to actually physically prevent him from doing something stupid and reckless? Has there ever been someone by his side when things were not looking good for him? Was there ever someone to ask him if he’s alright? Has someone gotten so upset on his behalf that they cried and got angry? What about physically defended Yashiro and restrained/beat up someone else to do so? Or ever intervened in what is obviously a very unhelpful way to deal with trauma? Before I get to the obvious answer, these are all actions that show profound care. Taken together, these gestures aren’t your basic, surface-level courtesies— they require deep compassion and love for someone, because they depend on effort and dedication. The only person in Yashiro’s life that has consistently shown this sort of care has been Doumeki. And it’s for this exact reason that Yashiro came to love him and remember him after 4 years apart.

Before Doumeki came into Yashiro’s life, no one could prove to Yashiro that he is worth the effort and care it takes to protect someone— not his mom, not Kageyama, and not even Misumi could ever fully show Yashiro that his dignity and wellbeing mattered to them. So now, post-timeskip, Yashiro is confused by Doumeki’s gentle, but loveless demeanour in bed. Doumeki seems devoid of the romance and care which initially captured Yashiro’s heart and showed him he’s a worthy person. After coming to a few *important* realizations, it’s obvious that Yashiro is yearning for romantic gestures, soft touches, slow kisses, and genuine compliments/admiration (i.e., “are you really 40” *blush* and “I’m no match for you”). He wants to know that Doumeki cares about him. And if I’m being honest, I think Yashiro will stay emotionally and physically closed off until he is certain that Doumeki really cares about him; otherwise it’s too much heartbreak and abandonment for Yashiro to handle for one lifetime.

All of that being said, when Doumeki showed up out of nowhere and threw Kido across the room, pulled Yashiro off the ground by his arm, and asked him with suppressed anger if he’d be satisfied with this type of violence from him, it was actually a positive development. Again, my thoughts are based on the assumption that Yashiro has changed significantly from his former self, and no longer craves that violent treatment from random men. That means that Yashiro understands why Doumeki is angry… Afterall, he’s harming himself with this impulsive visit to Kido. But Doumeki’s reaction to Yashiro’s impulsiveness was not to turn a blind eye and pretend it didn’t happen, or simply go along with it— no, his reaction is immediate, intense, and in opposition to Yashiro’s reckless behaviour. Doumeki is upset that Yashiro has allowed Kido to treat him with disdain, indignity, and violence. Recall in chapter 46 when Doumeki told Yashiro: “it frustrates me that you haven’t changed,” well, he certainly showed that in chapter 50. Doumeki showed his anger in the face of Yashiro’s self-harm and subsequently revealed that he still cares for him, like he did pre-timeskip.

Yashiro was able to see and experience that old, caring Doumeki again, the same one who smacked up Ryuuzaki’s underlings for disrespecting Y, and terrorized Chestnut until he got his car along with Yashiro’s location. No one would go to such lengths in chapter 50 if they didn’t actually care about someone. Despite Doumeki’s best efforts to hide his romantic feelings for Yashiro in the bedroom- understandably so, coming from his past experience- his emotional reaction/angry outburst in this chapter is what might end up inadvertently drawing Yashiro closer to him, by revealing his true feelings. It’s speculation, but a big win for them if true 

[ddelline]

f(ictitious work) i(n) p(rogress) friday

blurb | 9k into this impromptu, who knows what-post!canon!nobamaki (still don't know what the ship name is, no)... thing. who knows what it's gonna be? where it's gonna end? what the point is? certainly not me!

premise | what it says above, but also featuring: canonically dead!gojō, but somehow still featuring gojō!shenanigans, more spec parental!freshmen teacher!gojō!shenanigans (who's particular about clothes in the way insanely rich ppl are) bc what else

Gojō-sensei’s funeral is held on 2nd January at noon.

Tradition dictates that students and faculty alike dress in full uniform for funerals. In theory, it’s something Nobara considers to be acceptable. She never knows what to wear for life-and-death kind of occasions, with the exception of being out in the field, for which she wears her uniform. It’s decently tailored and in the right colours, and the A-line cut of her skirt, neither too short nor long, makes it pleasantly multi-purpose. It also makes her feel kind of powerful.

In other words: she’d happily consent to wearing an ensemble of: her school uniform, black tights, and any kind of dress loafers, to literally any funeral—school-affiliated or no; it’s sold, a done deal made easily.

Except in the case of Gojō-sensei’s. 

Nobara thinks she knew him as most people had: as a man most people knew next to nothing about. It doesn’t make her feel sad or anything, that she never got to know him better. He’d been a loud constant, annoying to a fault and in your face about it. He’d also he’d been her teacher, and she supposes affectionate, per his own, offbeat brand. She’s sad, but not sad that they didn’t get more time, or that they were never closer. 

She was very nearly royally pissed off. Pissed off at needing to intervene (on the behalf of a dead person) and dictate that the sartorial conditions of her dumbass teacher’s funeral not be beholden to stuffy, boring tradition. Her dumbass teacher, of whom she, plus every single person who’d ever met him, knew that there was nothing he despised more than keeping to convention and standard; that he likely never enjoyed anything as much as flipping a giant, fat fuck you to tradition—and jujutsu tradition in particular. 

They’d had little in common (for which she’d always been relieved—the concept of being ‘friends’ with Gojō-sensei was an icky thought) but for one thing: they’d been (weirdly) kindred spirits in fashion. If she were to do anything to honour what he’d been, both to the world and to her, she supposes it’s right that it was this.

It’s a scant hour before she’s due to be in the principal temple for the ceremony, and she’s paging through hangers looking for the jacket she’ll be wearing. She flips hangers off-handedly: grey herringbone blazer; floral-embroidered boatneck sweater; strappy, iridescent dress; black fitted blazer—

She stays a hand on the following hanger. It’s a jacket, untouched and unthought of since months—since a lifetime, if she counts lives lived (and died); experiences garnered since. She tugs it out and drops it on her bed. Smooths a palm over the expanse of it; wide polo neck and boxy fit, glossy, purplish-black fabric. 

Nobara doesn’t believe in higher powers, and she’s very sceptically inclined towards the existence of benevolent ghosts, spirits and/or divine intervention. Given her line of work she’s forced to concede to empirical evidence; people can live on after death—she’s got the scars to show for it, after all—but she’s also of the mind that curses are one thing—a guardian angel, holy spirit, or whatever else people believe is perched on their shoulder hindering them from walking into traffic—is something different.

But staring down at Gojō-sensei’s outrageously expensive, made-to-order uniform jacket—which can be found in her closet because she’d stolen it a few months ago in the name of fashion and redistribution of wealth—she can’t help but think that the motherfucker is lurking someplace closeby, a pale vestige caught between dimensions, watching and waiting for the moment in which he can pop into Nobara’s room and shatter a vase, or rearrange her closet, for shits and giggles. 

Whatever it is—the ghost of Gojō Satoru or creepy coincidence—works to make her pause and reminisce, hands splayed over the jacket as she imagines Gojō-sensei taking her down Omotesandō prior to a mission, early fall last year.

Despite getting off at Omote-Sando, which is logically situated on the street of the same name, Nobara’d been surprised to emerge at the foot of Omotesandō Boulevard, long and wide and bustling, lanes serrated by zelkova trees and sidewalks lined left and right with the world’s most well-respected fashion houses. She put a hand on her hip and turned to Gojō-sensei and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Gojō-sensei tipped his chin in vague indication down the road in lieu of replying. Nobara counted to ten before following.

They neither spoke nor interacted until a ways down the road when Nobara (not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth, anyway) fitted herself snug against the glass of the Marni window, gaze drawn by and caught by the ornamental, deconstructed display of Francesco Rissi’s print-laden pre-collection. 

Gojō-sensei suddenly addressing her wasn’t enough to make her startle, but it was a near thing. “So you like this, huh?”

Nobara trained a suspicious glare at him over her shoulder. Gojō-sensei making any sort of conversation which didn’t a) require a Gojō Saturu-specific Rosetta stone to interpret, or b) made her want to light him on fire, ranked among the top tier of unusual occurrences. “Of course I do. I’m not some uninformed loser with no taste.”

Gojō-sensei smiled serenely. “Don’t talk ill of your classmates when they’re not here to defend themselves.”

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. She barked with surprised laughter—shocked in equal measure at Gojō-sensei, whacky and over the top and ridiculous on any given day, but never funny, attempting to be clever… and kind of succeeding.

Gojō-sensei looked pleased with himself.

They made their way down the boulevard at a slow pace. Nobara stopped at a display once every couple of stores, peering at and sometimes through the elaborate display curations: noted new pre-collection additions in some, scoffed at unimaginative accessories’ displays in others. Gojō-sensei stayed mostly quiet and on his best behaviour, only chiming in occasionally with a tidbit commentary (shockingly on the money), or an anecdote (weirdly compelling) until Nobara felt her head hurting with with conflicting emotions (respectively: ‘agreeing with Gojō-sensei’ and ‘not hating spending time with Gojō-sensei’).

Outside the regal, five-storied flagship steps of Valentino they approached the facade in tandem. Nobara peered at Gojō-sensei curiously: the lazy concave of his spine and his squared shoulders; the spotlights in the display bouncing off the glossy fabric of his blindfold. “You shop here a lot?” she asked wryly, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Not off the rack,” he audaciously replied. When she sputtered, at a loss for a proper comeback that wasn’t a litany of insults, he grinned widely around teeth. It made her want to slap the audacity out of him—a comfortable, familiar feeling at least—talking about shopping for Maison Valentino Couture like he was describing the weather, or in this context, like he was talking about shopping for discounted high-street. 

It also made her want to steal his wallet and lift his no doubt very black, very metal, very invite only-credit card and go to town on every store this side of Shibuya.

“The menswear isn’t exactly revolutionary,” Gojō-sensei continued, unperturbed. 

She agreed. It made her seethe. 

Because Nobara couldn’t walk beside someone who claimed to be a haute couture client and not ask about it, she puffed a breath and changed topics, inquiring gruffly about the made-to-order process (“I can’t believe they cater to people like you.” An exaggerated pout: “That’s hurtful. Money is money, isn’t it?”).

Gojō-sensei indicated her skirt. “I have them make my uniforms,” he said. “Clothes I spend ninety percent of my waking time in can’t be uncomfortable, and school tailoring’s been lacking for the past few years.” 

Nobara blinked. She didn’t know what to do with that information. Didn’t know what to do with that her unhinged, idiot teacher: looks like a textbook himbo, manner of speaking like he’d just disembarked a spaceship after eons and encountered human civilisation for the first time, powerful like seven biblically accurate calamities mashed together—apparently unblinkingly spent money, in the give-or-take ballpark of north of fifteen million yen, on non-distinct, entirely unremarkable-ass workwear.

For a lack of better things to say or do which didn’t involve a) verbalising a long, drawn out noise like a tea kettle whistling, or b) shameless propositioning (not really, but for Valentino couture it’d be a near thing), she stomped a foot in the ground, spat a scathing comment about wealth disparities, and stormed off down the road.

(A month and a half later, two days after she’d socked Gojō-sensei in the mouth with a heavy fist for stealing her skirt and wearing it just to goof off in front of the sophomores and Itadori and Fushiguro (it had connected; Nobara refused to inspect the connotations of that), she limped off track following a gruelling cardio session, and noted a discarded uniform jacket folded next to hers. It wasn’t dirty enough to be Itadori’s; not worn soft with age and patched enough to be Fushiguro’s.

She picked it up; felt its weight and heft and high end thread count, the fall and silhouette a starch contrast to her own uniform jacket. She unzipped the high neck and smoothed a thumb over the label to be sure. Valentino Couture stared back at her in signature, blocky serif lettering. 

Nobara grinned viciously. She brought the jacket back to her room and stuffed it in her closet, feeling neither qualm nor regret. 

Gojō-sensei never asked for it back.)

Thinking back on it, it’s likely one of few available anecdotes about Gojō-sensei which manages to accurately quantify and encapsulate so much of what her teacher had been: impulsive, entitled and flamboyant; difficult to understand by choice rather than design and way too keen on leaning into it; self-important and spoiled with privilege (and once again, way too keen on leaning into it).

Nobara pinches the delicate, insignia-branded zipper of the jacket he’d never asked back between her thumb and forefinger. She pulls it slowly down, folding the exterior to expose the lining. The innards are a study in luxe materials and subtle craftsmanship: large swathes of black silk lining stitched with invisible seams; tucked near the bottom seam are dual flap pockets with hidden zippers, the dimensions of which would enable her to carry at least twice her current max amount of nails in the field. Saving the best for the worst , she thinks meanly. 

Satisfied with the extent of her hands on-analysis, she carefully zips it back up and shrugs it over the hanger. She tucks it back in her closet, opting to hang it at the very front, alongside a handful of precious fabric-items not to be chafed at by coarse denim or itchy wool.