#through no fault of his own obviously. but like. he has struggling with something he can’t say out loud energy

[visenyaism]

all of the targaryens had so much doomrot packed into their brain stems like it’s just absolutely bursting through the walls in the bloodstream out of the ribcage. that being said i really think the inflection point for the specific seeing things that are not there/they are out to get me flavor of brain problems was definitely maekar

[bruisedboys]

i love ur writing sm 🥹 since we got jealous!finnick can we get jealous!reader and how finnick reacts to it? ❤️

“Baby, come on.” Finnick follows you out of the glass elevator, almost jogging to catch up with your angry march. You speed up pointedly. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, Finnick,” you say sharply, without looking at him. The entire elevator ride was heavy with your silent irritation. You don’t want to talk about it, obviously.

“Well, why are you acting like I did?” Finnick presses.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You— sweetheart.” Finnick snags your wrist and pulls you back. You scowl, annoyed at being pushed around. You struggle in his grip but he only grabs your other wrist, holding you still. It’s times like this that you hate having such a muscular boyfriend.

“Come on,” he says, practically begging with you now. “What’s the matter? I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”

“It’s nothing,” you say through your teeth, still struggling against his grip.

Finnick rolls his eyes and holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your wrists. “Is this about Johanna?”

“What?” You falter in your attempts to escape. It is about Johanna, actually. You’d rather he didn't know that, though. “Why would it be about Johanna?”

Even to your own ears your incredulity sounds fake, your voice a notch too high. Finnick stares at you hard and you look away, burning hot under his gaze. Big mistake.

“So it is about her?” he asks slowly. You can hear the knowing smirk in his voice.

“I don’t—“ you stammer, desperately trying to string together a lie that’s not as embarrassing as the truth. You stare at him and his awful grin for a few seconds, fuming. Then, “Fine, yes, it’s about Johanna. She wouldn’t leave you alone!”

“We talked for ten minutes, honey,” Finnick says, measured to your frantic. “You know she’s just a friend.”

“She called you handsome and then winked at you,” you say, mortified, your act completely forgotten. "What am I supposed to think about that?"

You realise your mistake too late — you’ve given yourself away. You’re about to take it back in an attempt to save yourself from an onslaught of teasing when Finnick laughs.

“So you’re saying I’m not handsome?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

Bastard. You hate him, you swear.

“Never mind,” you say bluntly. “Whatever.”

You twist out of his grasp and stalk off. You’re still absolutely rolling in annoyance when you get to yours and Finnick’s shared room. You get as far as the entryway before Finnick’s on you again like a hawk. He grabs you while you're sliding your shoes off and pushes you none too gently against the nearest wall.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sure you are. You just laughed at me!" You say incredulously, hitting him in the chest.

“Because you’re being silly, darling," Finnick says. Somehow, he makes it sound affectionate. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Johanna’s a friend. How can you think I’d ever look at anyone else that way when I have you, hm? I’m yours forever, sweet girl."

You blink at him. What is his problem? He laughs at you for being jealous and then says something as life ruining as that? He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

"You really need to stop saying things like that,” you say weakly.

Finnick tilts his head to the side, a knowing look in his ocean eyes. “Why’s that?”

You glare. “You know why.”

Finnick just laughs. “You’re adorable.”

You’re about to tell him to shut up when he kisses you, too fast for you to see it coming, too lovely for you to stop it. His mouth is warm. He tastes like wine. You forget you’re angry at him. When he’s kissing you like this, you have no reason to be jealous. You guess you never really did.

“I’m sorry,” you say when he pulls away. His kiss has unravelled you. Sucked away all your anger and hot jealousy. “For being so mad at you. S’not your fault.”

"It's okay," Finnick tells you, shrugging. He dips down to kiss you again. You push up on your toes to reciprocate his heat, your hand pushing up to love on the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s pulling back before either of you can get too carried away, a smug smile on his pretty mouth as he says, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby."

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it 🤍

[scoops-aboy86]

I just saw a post about a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship but with the ages switched, so the one with money is in his twenties and the financially struggling one is in his forties. And I thought, wouldn't that be GREAT as a Steddie fic. 

Like, heir to the Harrington fortune Steve is just itching to dump his parents’ money down the drain on something. Or someone, because. You know. His parents tried to buy his love without ever being around to deserve it and that worked out Great, might as well continue the Harrington tradition (he thinks, while rolling his eyes). 

Enter Eddie Munson, walking disaster. Who sells weed for a living but spends most of his time planning and running dnd campaigns for underprivileged kids. Who is still trying to make it with his band, but meanwhile he’s the only member who can’t get a decent steady job because of bullshit murder charges when he was 19. (Which didn’t even stick, but it’s a small town… or maybe his dad just pissed off that many people.)

Eddie has the muscle tone of a slim jim and the hair of a tormented barbie doll, but the one physical feature he’s incredibly proud of are his tattoos. They’re all obviously home done, but when Steve realizes they’re all Eddie’s own work he’s (a) grudgingly impressed and (b) now has TWO great ideas for pissing off his parents. 

So Steve gets a tramp stamp in an apartment that he pays for but has Eddie’s name on the lease, and a grungy older boyfriend to parade around whenever he feels his parents need keeping in check. And maybe Eddie kind of makes it his unofficial job/personal undertaking to look into Harrington family dealings (he has his sources; his dad also schmoozed a lot of people and everyone knows his uncle is a stand-up guy) and alert Steve to things they’re being assholes about that Steve, more through fault of his upbringing than his own, wouldn’t have noticed. 

Like, maybe they own some medical buildings and are thinking of raising the rent on a pediatrician practice that offers sliding scale to low income families. At first, Steve is a little dismissive…

Steve: What’s the big deal? There are other pediatricians in town.

Eddie: Yes, but not everyone can afford to take their kids to them. 

Steve: Oh come on. 

Eddie: No, seriously. 

Steve: But… What if the kid gets really sick or hurt? 

Eddie: Sometimes they die, Steve.

Steve: ………………………. Okay yeah no that’s not happening. 

The next week, that practice has their rent lowered and a new lease locked in to keep the space (maybe even expand it into the plastic surgeon’s place next door) pretty much indefinitely and there’s an elite charity event that Steve and Eddie pointedly do not go to. 

(He can’t always get away with not going. Sometimes he plays the cards he’s dealt and goes with some pretty girl on his arm, but he has her home by midnight and he’s riding his boyfriend into the mattress by 1am.)

Eddie’s bandmates are dubious, but Eddie keeps swearing up and down that Steve isn’t a bad dude, he just has a lot of blind spots that he’s working on. Some harder than others, sure, but overall his cause seems to be just. Ish. A lot of what Steve does is motivated by petty revenge, but his parents are kind of shitty people so it tends to work out. “Plus,” Eddie adds brightly, “he’s a firecracker in the sack.” And is pelted with things for the crime of rubbing his sex life with a catch almost half his age in their faces. 

At some point they meet Steve, who has been specifically coached by Eddie to NOT buy out an entire restaurant or bar for the night just for the occasion. They come away with the general impression of, “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.”

Maybe they met in the first place because Dustin is one of the underprivileged kids Eddie was running campaigns for, and Steve has always had a soft spot for Dustin (and by extension all of Dustin’s friends and their families) since Mrs. Henderson was one of his nicer nannies growing up. Maybe Steve sets up a whole community center and tries to put Eddie in charge of it, but Eddie doesn’t really want to be anyone’s boss; he just wants to help kids excel at a game he loves because its one of the things that really helped keep him steady through his rough childhood and adolescence. But he does work there, because that way he can keep playing dnd AND teach guitar lessons. 

(Steve offered to help get the band signed to a label but Eddie was adamant, if they were going to make it they’d do it on merit, not money, or not at all. It’s really become more of a hobby for the other guys anyway.)

So Eddie is finally OKAY. He has a good income, a decent amount saved up from while Steve was covering all the bills he can now pay himself, and his Uncle Wayne hasn’t been more proud of him since the day he finally graduated high school on the third try (which was pretty good, for a Munson). 

And Steve… isn’t sure what to do with himself now that Eddie doesn’t need him anymore. He can’t think of anything he’s good for other than money—though his best friend Robin tells him that’s just because he’s a dingus, there are PLENTY of things. (They’ve been best friends since college, and there’s a story there but someone else is gonna have to fill in that blank because I’m getting sleepy.) Dustin chimes in that yeah, he can totally tell that Eddie has been sneaking Steve into campaigns as an npc (which he has to explain to Steve, again, even though they’ve been over this many times) for ages and is clearly so in love with him it’s ridiculous, has been for a while. 

Maybe Steve panics and does something dumb after that, but not so boneheaded that they can’t work it out dramatically in the rain after a brief period apart. Like in one of those romance movies that they both pretend they think are silly but genuinely get them choked up sometimes because they’re both kind of saps underneath it all. 

Eddie goes on to become a well respected tattoo artist, while still pitching in at the community center a few days a week. Steve continues his philanthropy work with the guidance of Eddie, Robin, his ex and investigative journalist Nancy, etc., and his own shaky-as-a-baby-giraffe-that-landed-on-its-head-straight-out-of-the-womb-but-getting-steadier instincts. They get married while skydiving (because Eddie joked about it and Steve held him to it), build the found family of Steve’s dreams, and live happily ever after. 

… Anyway, if someone could write all that out in actual prose I would love to read it. But with the sex dialed up to eleven because that’s important but I think I only actually mentioned it twice, a travesty.

[yoichichi]

hey what’s up what’s going on. sorry about this. so anyway big brother reo who wants to share you with his treasure and best friend nagi sooooo badly. you haven’t given into reo yet more than loaded glances you take when you think he isn’t watching you (he’s always watching you) and awkward moments when he’s practically cornering you; you’re too busy for that, clearly, always with some new boy that obviously isn’t good for you (no one will ever be good enough for you to reo). still, you get along with nagi really well, treat him sweet and dote on him and fall asleep on his shoulder on the occasion you both knock out on the couch. it’s cute! makes reo’s heart sing and dick twitch! he knows nagi would probably agree that they should share you but for all of two seconds he’s hesitant about it — what if nagi says no? or gets upset? or wants you all for himself instead? reo doesn't know what hed do. but something changes that — your new boyfriend, he fucking sucks. the worst one out of them all, not kind enough to you, not spoiling you in the way you deserve. it’s when you leave the house in the middle of a hangout with reo and nagi because of a fight with him that reo hears it — nagi, voice soft as ever, still focused on the game on his phone, “they could do better than that”, and it’s like reo’s entire world gets a little bit brighter. and when you come home, tears lining puffy eyes, they’re there to comfort you and show you just how much better you could be treated 💜 your boyfriend doesn’t have to know anyway.

Bambi……………. Putting this in my inbox is nothing but sick and twisted of you ..

Subject of my Adoration

Stepbro!Reo x gn!reader x Nagi

MINORS DNI

cw: incest, slight "somno" (reader thinks reo & nagi are sleeping, they are not), short pwp, reader has no pronouns/no body descriptions but has painted nails mentioned only once briefly, reo & nagi makeout, reader is a bit of a spoiled brat and a little annoying about it but it’s all Reo’s fault and he loves it, dark content - don’t read if you don’t like !

“He’s just so… so…” a sob gets caught in your throat as tears boil over and spill down your cheeks before you can finish your thought.

“I know angel, I know. It’s okay, we’re right here.” Reo coos softly onto the top of your head and leaves a kiss, Nagi humming in agreement against your back.

Your boyfriend sucks, same with all the other ones if you were to ask Reo, but this one really sucks you swear. Who texts their date at 2 in the afternoon, “be there at seven, wear something nice ❤️”, just to take them to the movies?

Losers, that’s who.

You wore your absolute best (you know you did because Reo told you all about how lovely you looked for your big night out up until the moment you left), had him rub the sweetest smelling body cream you owned onto your skin for what felt like hours just so you could smell your best through the entire night, and you even made Nagi help pick a new color for your nails (and help paint them too of course).

All for some cheesy action flick that was more blood, guts, and guns than dialogue. There was barely even any kissing.

What a loser. How dare he waste your time like that?

Naturally, it was all tears and whines the minute you walked through the door, Reo’s warm arms wrapping you into an embrace not seconds after.

Now you’re here, cuddled up nice and close between the pair on the couch, crying into Reo’s chest all about how stupid and awful and lame this guy is.

“Poor thing, huh Nagi?” His friend hums again, continuing to rub your sides softly and leave the occasional peck onto your clothed back.

You squeeze yourself closer into them and inhale deeply, letting their combined scent wash over you and comfort you the way they’d want it to, the way they hope it does.

Sleep begins to make your eyes struggle to stay open, and your body feels so warm and heavy, but Nagi’s continuously wandering hands and Reo’s random, soft kisses and gentle shushing is making your stomach stir. You move to adjust your position on the couch but find yourself stuck and unable to properly move between them. Not on your own at least.

“Something wrong, angel? Are you not comfortable?” Reo speaks softer to you like he’s making an effort to not wake Nagi, but you know he’s not sleeping with the way his grip gets slightly tighter on you.

You let your eyes wander across his face before you shake your head and bury yourself back into him, into them.

Why can’t your boyfriend be like him? Reo knows you so well; knows how you should be, rather how you need to be taken care of. He’s so tender and caring with you, taking the time to make sure you’re only feeling your best. And it’d help if they were as handsome as him, too.

The familiar twist in your stomach comes back, pulling and churning until you’re squirming in your spot again.

“C’mere.” Nagi sighs quietly, moving and readjusting with Reo’s assistance until his leg is slotted between yours and Nagi’s, arms wrapped around you both as Nagi engulfs you from behind. You’re sure Reo isn’t fully on the couch anymore, but before you can suggest moving to a more comfortable place to rest, you feel how warm and thick his thigh feels between yours. That in itself isn’t surprising, but the way you throb against him is.

You feel like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think.

“Better?” Nagi’s breath on the back of your neck nearly makes you gasp, when did he move up so close?

He’s so warm.

You nod, unable to bring yourself to speak, and hope they’re feeling the same lull of sleep you were just a few minutes ago.

Moments pass and the quiet grows until you’re sure they’re resting, the steady rhythm of their deep sighs persuading your body to rest itself.

But the pulse between your legs and heat from Reo’s thigh won’t let you.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard as you try to find a less intrusive way to lay with them both, but it’s only making it worse. The friction and pressure pulls a sigh from your lips.

There’s no way you’ll be able to move without waking them up and asking them to, which isn’t an option. There was no decision or request you could make without getting an onslaught of questions from Reo. You don’t mind of course, you know he only wants to understand the things you need so he can be there for you without you needing to ask next time, but how would you be able to explain this?

You could never get away with lying to your big brother, he’d see right through you. And you don’t want to.

Thick yearning is growing heavy in your stomach.

Their breathing stays steady, and you’re a little shocked your wriggling hasn’t made either of them stir.

You feel sick as a thought passes your mind, but you swallow the thick nausea quickly creeping up your throat and remind yourself that Reo wouldn’t want you uncomfortable. He wouldn’t want you to be hurting like you are now. And Nagi wouldn’t either, Reo wouldn’t be best friends with someone who wouldn’t want the best for you.

Relief comes as you start to rock your hips gingerly, your body instantly hot from the embarrassment and pleasure.

Reo’s shirt bunches up in your fist. You’re gripping onto him harder than you probably should be, but you need him so bad. Need him to hold you and tell you how it’s all okay, how he’s here so there’s no need to fuss, you know your big brother will always be there to take care of you.

Your core starts to burn from the careful way you’ve been moving your hips, and you’re getting tired, but you’re not close enough yet. You need to finish but you’re struggling more than you’d like to get there.

Your level of frustration (sexually and just from the events of today) becomes more apparent as the familiar feeling of tears pricks at your lash line.

God, why did you have to be such a crybaby?

Reo's shirt feels soft against your cheek as you lean in and let your hips relax, abruptly deciding to give up on your earlier efforts. You press further into his chest attempting to soothe yourself (and wipe your face) with the soft and expensive fabric while you sniffle. He's warm. And he smells so good.

This isn't helping.

Before you can fully shut your eyes and get comfortable, gentle and familiar hands previously resting on your waist slide down to now sit on your hips.

"Angel,", Reo's soft voice hums against the top of your head, "is there something you need?"

You feel your heart race at the sound of his voice. When did he wake up? Did he ever fall asleep? Is Nagi still awake, too? What would you say to them, what could you say?

You crane your neck to look up at him with wet eyes, contemplating what to say. His eyes look heavy, but not tired, not exactly. Just... focused, you could guess.

Too many moments of silence pass as you try to think until a growing dread begins to bloom in your stomach.

You could never lie to your big brother. You couldn't even try.

You nod your head haltingly but turn your eyes down to stare at the wet patch from your tears on his shirt.

What else is there to say to him besides yes, you need him.

Without hesitation, the same familiar pair of hands grip your hips tighter, beginning to wiggle you back and forth on the soft meat of his upper thigh.

Reo always knew what you needed without having to ask.

The pit of dread blossoms into a thick yearning, and you let the small smile of relief that comes stay on your face, Reo would want to know you're feeling good. You can never hide that from him, that's your one rule.

Always be honest about your happiness with me, because how else will I learn to take care of you?

"You still awake, Nagi?" A hum between your shoulder blades and a gentle pinch to your sides serves as his response, effectively pulling you out of the foggy haze overcoming you, and instinctively making you jump.

Taking that as the okay, Nagi's own large hands rest over Reo's, letting him see how you like it best. You look down to watch the way they're both gripping you, how good Reo is at teaching Nagi the right pace, all while Reo was learning himself, too. Nagi's hand caresses his friend's, his fingers rubbing along the tops of Reo's absentmindedly.

"Reo, do they like to be kissed?" Your face gets hot at the implication and the way Nagi speaks about you like you aren't in the room, all while still staring right at you.

Without saying a word, one of Reo's hands slides away from your body to tug his friend by the chin towards himself gently, regaining Nagi's attention quickly before slotting his lips between his. You can tell they've done this before from the seamless way Nagi exhales and slides his tongue into Reo's mouth, like he's been waiting for the same relief you have.

"Mhm,", Reo hums as the pair pull apart just far enough where their lips still brush as he speaks, "they do, just like that."

You say nothing as Nagi's big eyes stare into yours, letting him adjust and get closer until you're engulfed by him.

His tall, wide frame encompassing yours as he kisses you slowly. He's more gentle than you were expecting, more careful, taking his time to taste you without making you feel so intruded upon.

You feel like you're on fire. Everything is hot and stuffy, Nagi's spit mixing with yours as two pairs of hands roam freely across your body, no longer caring where they travel to.

As wrong as the voice in the back of your mind kept telling you this was, nothing was louder than the growing ache between your legs. The one you knew Reo could quiet. At least temporarily.

All you need to do is ask.

"Reo."

His eyes roam across your figure.

"Shh, I know."

Warm fingers sneak between yours and Nagi's bodies, intertwined, to rub you where you need him most. You breathe a soft moan into Nagi's mouth.

"There you go, Reo. Looks like they like that." Despite his choice of words, he almost sounds like cocky. Like he knows Reo knows you're feeling good, he just likes saying it.

He continues to kiss you, moving until Reo can reach you more comfortably, kissing down your neck until your thighs start to shake and attempt to clamp shut. You didn't realize how pent up and close you already were.

Your lips feel cold as Nagi pulls away, the whine close to spilling from your lips swallowed by Reo as he leans down to take his spot, groaning lewdly at the feeling of what it's like to finally kiss you.

Nagi watches you come undone. He twitches at the way you sigh and tug at Reo, rolling your hips into his palm and mindlessly repeating thank you as you catch your breath.

"It's my turn now, right?"

——————

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts. 

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon. 

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him. 

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip. 

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive. 

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek. 

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony. 

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.” 

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!” 

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek. 

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

.

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

[sporesgalaxy]

The way Dungeon Meshi does gender makes me insane. It’s stated over and over that Falin and Laios really are more similar than anyone is looking for- Laios directly states as much at one point, Marcille mentions it when Falin wakes up the first time and starts bemoaning not eating any monsters, the magic mirror story even has fem!Toshiro crushing on Laios- but Laios is so protective of his little sister. Laios leaves home to start making a life he can one day share with her. And she leaves magic school because he has failed, and failed so hard that she’s worried that she might never see him again if she lets him leave without her. He wants to protect her from the way the world treats him, but he does not or does not want to understand the terrible truth- the world will never treat her as harshly as it does him, because she is a pretty ‘quirky’ girl and he is a big autistic man. Falin is happy, doing well in her own sphere, making a single friend (because she is still autistic, and has struggles of her own, even if they’re a different kind), but Laios still feels a need to protect her because his experience of this world has been nothing but cold shoulders and distrust all the way down. This story makes me want to sprint into the river. Laios and Falin are the best characters of all time.

Ouhhhhh I dont have time to reread dungeon meshi to give you good sources but based on my doodoo memory and vibes therein: I have to disagree that Falin was necessarily doing "well," and I especially disagree that the tragedy here is that Laios was doing something unnecessary by trying to make a place in the world for him and Falin.

Falin gets along seemingly ok in the world but it's because she's agreeable to a fault .

What's so interesting to me about the Touden siblings is the different ways they've learned to deal with being The Odd Man Out. Laios set out to try and forcefully carve out a PLACE for him and Falin in the world, where they could both openly and unabashedly be themselves.....Falin stayed behind, and learned how to hide the things that made her stick out too much, and how to appease people on the verge of rejecting her and Laios.

That can be functional, but it isn't good. It isn't happiness. It hurts in a million tiny ways every single day, to hide yourself out of fear of rejection like that.

At school, Falin must have spent a lot of time alone before she befriended Marcille, since Falin was familiar enough with the surrounding wilderness that she knew where that small Dungeon opening was. She sought out what happiness she could by following her unusual passions in more private ways, where no one would judge her for it. Falin didn't expect anyone NOT to judge her for her "weirdness" before she met Marcille, so Falin didn't even try to connect with anyone before Marcille at a level more personal than "classmate." That's not doing well. That's not living.

This kind of self-isolation is a coping mechanism for neurodivergence that functions for a while, but it eats away at you. Falin considered marrying Toshiro despite not loving him, essentially because it seemed like the normal thing to do and she didn't think she'd get another chance to be married at all. What if she had gone through with that, or something similar by the same reasoning? Laios lived in a state of being rejected over and over, which obviously hurts like hell. In contrast, Falin was willing to live a life she never wanted just to avoid total rejection. That can be incredibly painful too, in its own way.

Falin and Laios were BOTH tragically fighting doomed battles to find a place for themselves in the world during the time they were separated. Working together, supporting each other, they're able to do a lot more. Cries.

[gumbaigumbai]

Grievances regarding the VIZ 310 translation

Obviously 310 spoilers ahead This is the VIZ translation from the physical copy of Volume 31

For comparison, here is the fan translation (by EverydayHeroes) that I read my first time around

To preface this, I have absolutely zero knowledge when it comes to reading Japanese, so I have no idea which translation would be "more correct," but this is a rant on my own opinion over why I think the EHscans translation is better suited for this scene.

One of the glaring differences is the exact word Ogata uses to describe himself with; a "fuckup" vs someone "defective." I believe depending on which is used, a vastly different meaning could be perceived for this moment. A fuckup implies someone who has made a mistake, and it provides a sense of depreciation. When Ogata uses it here, it means that he took the actions he believed were that of a failure. That he unconsciously thought, "this is how someone incompetent would act," and tried to imitate it. The issue with this is that, as we know, Ogata is not incompetent, and he is not a failure. Throughout the manga he consistently shows off his adequacy, and his issues never, not even once, stem from a lack of skill. His entire downfall is purely based on his mental and emotional struggle. This is why using the word "fuckup" seems inappropriate by definition. It also adds a passage of time to its meaning, a "fuckup" is someone who might have been born as a completely competent person, but has along the way made a mistake which labeled them as such. Again, this doesn't make sense when inserted into Ogata's beliefs, whose primary goal was to show how the environment and circumstances by which he was born held no effect to his psyche. Lastly, a minor issue I have is the tone; this is an extremely vital part of Ogata's arc, it's his finale, and he's going through this intense introspection, yet despite all that when choosing to describe himself he picks this lackadaisical word "fuckup," and not something more meaningful. It feels like the translators relied more on the expressive quality of an expletive than the definition itself. Now, looking at the fan translation, defective sets a much different tone, along with the wordage used around it. It implies something is flawed, or not working correctly. Similarly to "fuckup," it describes imperfection, but here it can be seen as inherent. Here, Ogata talks about how he chose to act like someone who was born lacking, how he believed he was missing something since birth (love), and therefore made decisions he thought reflected this implied lack of love. It perfectly ties into his inability to see that Yuusaku genuinely loved him, and sets the focus on what the issue is, which is his mentality. I can't stress enough how this would be impossible to derive from a word such as "fuckup," and how important that distinction is. Another issue is that "fuckup," as I've mentioned, reads as someone who has made a mistake, whereas a "defective" individual is not at fault for their impairment. When placed into the context of the story, why would Ogata consciously choose to act as someone who "fucked up", instead of someone who just wasn't born correctly. Sorry if this rant is a bit jumbled, I just needed to express my thoughts on the matter since I seriously do not like how VIZ executed this scene. Hope you enjoyed the read though, if you made it to the end! ^_^

[likedovesinthewindd]

Can you write something for fezco where he takes his anger out on his girlfriend(reader) maybe angst with a happy ending:-)

this has been in my inbox for a while I'm so sorry love

fezco x fem!reader

warning: police raids, disposing of drugs, language.

wc: ±1040

a/n: this takes place in season 1 when nate calls the cops and fez and his house gets raided. not proofread.

You didn't know what time it was, or what the fuck was even happening. All you could focus on was Fez's shouting and the incessant banging on the front door, your hands shaking as you struggled to get the pill bottles opened and flushed down the toilet.

"Shit, hurry up," you heard him shouting as you threw the thousandth bottle down the bowl. "I'm trying," you heaved, the cops' shouting and banging increasing by the second. It felt like forever before you managed to get the last of his stash flushed, getting rid of the hundreds of bottles and watching as the swarm of cops threw the place upside down.

By some universal luck, they didn't find anything, and left, leaving the house a complete mess. You looked over to the clock hanging in the living room to see what the time was; 4:47 AM. You sighed, looking around the room till your eyes met Fez's, who looked like he was on the verge of popping a vein. It was an unnerving sight from someone who's usually so reserved.

"Who the fuck called the cops on you?" you asked, your socked feet padding around the living room, trying to avoid any broken glass. "I dunno," was all he said, running both his hands over his buzzed hair. You quietly made your way to Fez's room, trying to find your phone in the mess left behind.

You searched through the clothes and sheets thrown onto the floor, and managed to get some part of the floor visible when you found one of the framed photos in his room, broken, the small pieces of glass shattered throughout the floor.

You had been the one who placed the photo there; it was a picture of Fez and you—one of few he agreed upon—that you decided to frame and put in his room to give the dull atmosphere some life. You sighed, thinking about how much you're gonna have to clean up and all the broken things that needed replacement.

You heard Fez's heavy footsteps and turned to find him joining you in the room, Ash quietly moving into his own room. "Look at this," you said, carefully picking the photo and wooden frame from the glass and showing it to him.

"It really ain't the worst of our problem right now, ma," he said, voice tired as he sat down on the bed, his back to you. You frowned at his dismissive tone; obviously it wasn't, you knew that much. "I know it's not," you started, "I'm just showing you how they trashed the placed."

"You think I didn't notice that?" he asked, and you scoffed, standing up to move around the bed so that you could face him. "Why are you acting like this is my fault?" you asked. "We just flushed thousands of dollars down the drain, and you talkin 'bout a fuckin photo frame," he said and your mouth dropped in shock. "Are you serious right now?" you asked and he looked up at you. "You're giving me a fuckin headache man," he said, dropping his head in his hands.

You didn't say anything, instead leaving him by the bed as you started looking for a bag. When you found your overnight bag, you hastily started digging through the heaps of clothes for the few pieces you had.

Fez could hear you moving around the room, and when he lifted his head from his hands, he could see you frantically packing. "Where you going?" he asked, but you ignored him, moving to the bathroom to get your toothbrush. He stood up from the bed, following you to the bathroom. "Yo, I'm serious, what the fuck are you doing?" he asked grabbing at your shoulder when you moved pass him once again. You yanked your shoulder free, moving back to his room. "Baby—" he started but you interrupted him.

"I just helped keep your ass out of jail, and now you're making me feel like I'm a nuisance," you said zipping up your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. "I know you just lost a shit ton of money but I was only trying to help, you don't get to take your shit out on me." You left the room, making sure you had your car keys as you made it to the front door.

"Baby, it's fucking five in the morning, where are you going?" you asked. "My sister's," you said flatly before making your way out the door and to your car.

✮☆★✮

It's been days since your argument with Fez and he'd been calling you nonstop, blowing up your phone with apologetic messages. You hadn't responded to any of them; you'll admit that was a bit petty of you, but you were still angry at him. For the way he acted, considering you helped him stay out of jail. You understood he was under a lot of pressure, but he had no reason nor right to take it out on you.

You were watching TV in your sister's living room when she called you from outside, where she had been watering her garden.

"Your boyfriend's here," she said gesturing towards the driveway when you made your way outside. When you saw Fez standing by his car, your first thought was to go back inside, but you could only avoid something for so long. You made your way up the driveway slowly, stopping once you reached his car.

"Hey," you said softly, pulling at your jersey as the cold morning air bit your skin. "You alright, ma?" he asked, and you shrugged. "Listen," he started, "I'm sorry for acting like a bitch, you didn't deserve that." You looked up at him from where you were staring at your feet. "You were acting like a bitch," you added, once again looking away. "I know," he agreed, "and I wanna make up for that. I miss you."

You tried not to show how giddy his words made you, nodding silently as you toed at the grass beneath your shoes. "Y'know I miss you baby, house is quiet without you," he added into the silence. You gave him another look, before smiling reluctantly. "Miss you too," you said quietly. "Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded. "Then let's go home, ma"

[theallianceofcelestials]

You know what's an amusing thing about the previous two Eclipses? The way the both of them were with Sun.

They were never kind to him, no, it would be foolish to say that either the first Eclipse or the backup Eclipse were kind to Sun. But regardless of which one we're talking about, Eclipse has always been more, indulgent with him.

When Sun first met Eclipse eye to eye after that fateful argument he had with Moon in Beta-10, Eclipse was... weirdly gentle? It's not even the correct word for it, but he appeared to indulge Sun and his anxious rambling, before shooting him down. He was also much more friendly than he was with Moon, probably because he did not see Sun as a threat, but still. He quite helpfully pointed out the exit point to Sun, and was acting kinda peacful. He was also less antagonistic, although he was definitely condescending.

When Sun exited the mindscape, he apologised to Eclipse, and Eclipse replied something like: "Oh, don't be sorry, only time you're ever sorry is when it actually IS your fault." which is obviously a jab. However, there's also a hidden admitance, that Sun is innocent, and is not at fault. It kind of feels like comfort from Eclipse? This was preluded by Eclipse admiting that Sun WAS a good person, but with issues (like everyone else lol).

Also, ever since Eclipse locked Sun and Moon into the Infinite Staicase SCP, and forced Moon to admit that he (Eclipse) IS better, seemed to have put more weight on Sun's opinion. Which can be clearly seen in the episode where Sun, having been fed up with Eclipse constantly throwing him and New Moon into things, exploded on him, and Eclipse just... left.

He also passed up some opportunities to actually hurt him? Like we now know, that Sun was tortured in the mindscape, but the first interaction we see between them, which is not a power struggle, Eclipse never got violent. He was a jerk, but a toned down jerk compared to how he was with Moon. Eclipse also, during the first ever video fully focused on him "Sun and Moon TRANSFORM into ECLIPSE in VRCHAT", said he was going to kill Sun, and then never followed through with it, even though he had the entirety of October to do so. Like my guy, do you or do you NOT want to kill him? You said you wanted to! Then actually do it, pussy!

And Eclipse is a killcode right? They said in the show that he is so. But compared to other people, he's actually kinda peacful. Like there are only a couple confirmed kills Eclipse has, like the homeless person he beat to death using Monty's body and the government official before that.

All these can be said to be little things, that Eclipse did not bother with, because they seemed like a waste of his time, but there is one piece of information he had, that could have destroyed both his enemies from the very beginning. A neat little fact. Moon wanted to kill Sun. He wanted to kill him, because he felt injustice at the fact that he was locked into their mind, and wanted a body of his own. The fact that it was their PLAN to do so.

Of course it was probably an intrusive thought of Moon, corrupted by his homicide code, and was probably his greatest shame. Before Eclipse that is. And it's obviously understandable why Moon wasn't jumping at the chance to tell this to his brother, the ONLY person he could fully, truly and wholly love and care about (before Lunar also appeared), but then why didn't Eclipse?

He could have won. He could have won before the brothers had a chance to realise how screwed they actually were, before the October Takeover, before the Wither Storm, before the infamous Beta-10 argument, before anything really. All he had to do, was basically poison Sun with this hate, and ruin any sort of relationship Sun and Moon ever had. Sure, probably when he would have first told it to Sun, he would've thought him a liar, but doubt eventually would have come. That was something Moon could not have countered in any form, and he probably would not have wanted to from how terrible he must have felt about that. Moon would have probably given up, if confronted with that information, because I don't think he'd have lied about something of that magnitude.

But alas, Eclipse never told (probably cuz Reed and Davis had no solid idea about it back then). This could have been such a powerful trump card from him. He could have ruined New Moon and Sun's relationship before it even began! Because back then Sun was still (understandably) more attuned to the Old Moon. So he would not have overcome it as easily, not saying he would do so now. Eclipse could very easily break Sun's fragile little sanity. And yet he never did. He never once even uttered anything similiar to it when in front of Sun. Sure he threw insults and taunts, basically tortured the guy for funsies, but this was a line he never once crossed. And I'm not sure why.

Eclipse had a strong ace up his (non-existent) sleeve, that he could have used anytime. At all times, it would have allowed him to win. But he never once used it. He took it with him silently, everytime he was defeated. I can't stress this enough.

This man had the chance to destroy his enemies with just a couple little words.

But both times he took it to his GRAVE.

Let's see if this one will too (:

[naavispider]

I often see people describe Spider as a neglected child. Do you think that is totally accurate? Would Norm and the other scientists have set rules and boundaries? If Lo’ak and Spider did something stupid together would Jake punish both of them? What would a scene like this look like?

This is a very big question, in my opinion, and seems to have divided a lot of people depending in their answer. I think I can see it both ways. Spider is clearly a child that has grown up without a stable parental figure, and has lived his life trying to fit in where there seems to be no natural slot for him to do so. I do think he is relatively well adjusted, he's formed strong relationships with those his own age and he clearly has strong morals, all of which are accomplishments in themselves given the circumstances. Anyone else in his position would obviously struggle to deal with so much (being displaced by war, not having a stable family, and generally being an outcast by the tribe). If you add the daddy issues on top, which have provided him with a fluctuating sense of identity ever since he was old enough to understand who is father was, it's no doubt that Spider is definitely a special kid and extremely strong to have been through what he has, and come out the other side remarkably 'unharmed'.

We also can't ignore the fact that he was outrightly mistreated throughout his childhood as well. This is more obvious in the comics from the comments made by Neytiri, but there is also all the subtle ways in which he was excluded from the People and made to feel like an outcast. The kind of social isolation he suffered from clearly had an effect on him and is obvious in the way he has a complex about trying to impress, and not let anyone down, ever.

Your question asked about whether it's valid to say that Spider was neglected. In short, I think the answer is yes, but it's harder to pin point by exactly who and for how long. Individually, most of the adults in his life treated him with kindness and respect, and often fondness. I'm sure that Norm and loves Spider, too (and probably Max). But what makes him neglected is that by itself, that kind of treatment isn't enough for an extremely young child. What everyone seemed to miss while he was growing up is the lack of a parental figure. The McCoskers clearly weren't actually interested in raising Spider like their own, so that fell short; as a result, nobody else stepped up and Spider went without paternal or maternal love.

In my mind, the McCoskers are definitely guilty of neglect. The question of the other adults is murkier, because they are not directly at fault and Spider was really not their responsibility. However, in my opinion they did not do all they could to emotionally support Spider through his identity crisis and feelings of belonging. As such, I would say they emotionally neglected him.

That was a long and winding answer and I know that others have hashed this topic over at length before, but those are my two cents! 🥰

Would Norm and the other scientists have set rules and boundaries? Yes, I reckon so. When Spider was very young it would primarily be around safety and where abouts in the compound he should be, when. The McCoskers were probably responsible for bedtime routines and ensuring his basic needs were met, and I can see them being pretty harsh with that (for example shutting Spider in his room). As he got older and the McCoskers' attention turned to their own sons, they started to care less and less about Spider and creating firm boundaries. As a result he became a much wilder spirit and then the scientists would have had to put their own boundaries in place. By this point though, Spider was a young teen and probably all they could do was tell him off (which would work for a while). I can see the other scientists begging Norm to talk to Spider when he accidentally broke a piece of lab equipment.

If Lo’ak and Spider did something stupid together would Jake punish both of them? Jake would clearly be much harsher towards Lo'ak. I can see him just sending Spider back to the shacks, aware that Spider is not his son and nit his responsibility. In fairness to Jake, he personally struggles a lot with how to be a good father and isn't confident with the two sons he already has, so mentally I think he's distancing himself from Spider on purpose, because he's afraid and doesn't want to take on even more parental responsibility than he is already having to contend with. Lo'ak and Spider would meet up after and Spider would ask Lo'ak how bad it was. Lo'ak would probably moan that Spider is lucky he doesn't have to brunt Jake's anger, and Spider would outwardly agree.

Sorry it took me literal months to respond to this ask! I'm working my way through them 💞💙💞💙

[ellecdc]

Okay literally stop I didn't know i needed this until you said it

chef!sirius deserves atleast headcanon level recognition omg

*makes grabby hands at his homemade pasta*

-🩷

hahahaha I LOVE chef!sirius I think about him almost constantly and poor @maladaptiveescapism has to deal with me constantly bombarding her with my thoughts of him (but it is also her own fault so.....there's that)

also, she was the original requester of our chef!sirius one shot (that I'm dying to turn into SOMETHING if my shit-for-brain's brain would cooperate with me) so it only made sense I go to her for help with our.....

Chef Sirius Headcanons:

as discussed in his one-shot:

he's absolutely dubbed a hardass at work [and maybe irl by his friends/family]

he started in the food-industry as a kid when Euphemia and Fleamont took him in - he knew they would provide anything he could possibly want/need, but he didn't want to rely on them or feel like a burden

he worked his way up in the industry, from washing dishes to bussing tables to hosting to serving to a line cook, before another chef took him under their wing and taught him everything they knew; he had saved enough to go to culinary school and made a name for himself

moving on:

he swears a lot [we all sort of head canon sirius TO swear a lot anyway, so chef!sirius swears more]

still covered in tattoos

smokes a lot but also hates the way it smells (especially when he's working around food - also doesn't want the lingering taste in his mouth to impede his taste testing abilities) so he carries mints around a lot [and then maybe starts carrying your favourite gum, in case you want some and because it reminds him of you]

he's constantly calling everyone an imbecile etc in the kitchen but is all soft pet-names with you, which freaks everyone else the fuck out

as seen in the one-shot, reader often teases him by calling him "chef", but when you dare call him Sirius, everyone tenses and waits with bated breath for him to explode (which obviously never comes) because he is very much a "yes, chef!" kinda bloke

love language = acts of service, the only way he knows how to show he cares is through his actions. that usually comes in the form of feeding you, but with mixologist reader, he's often popping over at the bar asking "how's my best girl doing?" and setting diff plates of food and snacks during your shift to make sure you're eating and staying hydrated

driving you home is also big on his list; refuses to let you walk home after close even if your place is in the exact opposite direction of his, he will drive you home. He'll even find reasons to stay at work late (or volunteer to close) just so he can drive you home

because he's so short on time in general running his own kitchen, D suggested him having some really long-running mindless TV show he has running in the background almost always. D suggested Golden Girls which mixologist!reader would absolutely find hilarious [big scary chef!sirius watching his golden ladies every evening], I think Full House would be one too because he likes seeing a loving family in action, and maybe the Simpsons because it's also long, colourful, funny, and mindless entertainment

I think he struggles to believe that he actually deserves the things he's worked so hard for? D mentioned him waving you off re: driving you home because he explains it away like paying it forward/good karma. but he also feels like he owes someone something, like he needs to give back the way that Effie and Monty gave to him

we also decided he'd have another hands-on/crafty hobby he likes to do when he's not working, and I have always loved a Sirius who does pottery - I mean, how perfect is chef!sirius eating/drinking from his own home-made one-of-a-kind pottery dishes etc??? the second you compliment him on them, he's making you your own set (or asking if you want to bring that exact mug home with you)

task and goal-oriented - almost to the point of a dog with a bone; you have to physically stop him or remind him to take a break or have a drink/eat because he becomes so engrossed in what he is doing....especially if it's something for you. (you complain one day about needing to reconfigure your living room and he is over at your flat just rehanging pictures, moving furniture, whatever and he will not stop until it's done)

as always, he's a huge flirt (menacingly so) but, with the nature of mixologist!reader's job, so is she so she absolutely gives it right back to him

for as big of a hardass as chef!sirius is, he's also so family-oriented and the BIGGEST team-player: his staff is his family and he's loyal to a fault -> for as much shit he gives them, he is always looking out for them and making sure they're well staffed and taken care of, and he values each and every member of his staff equally knowing very well that each member is required for it to run smoothly (he's played every role a kitchen has to offer, he takes none of them for granted)

how this works in a relationship:

acts of service: running you a bath / coming home with some plate made for you regardless if you've already eaten or not / somehow a professional handyman? he is fixing everything in your apartment - leaky faucet, replacing shower heads, changing light bulbs, hanging pictures/fixtures ETC / making you your own pottery/art for your apartment (you keep complaining about dropping/losing your rings? he's going to show up with a trinket tray that he made for you)

sometimes jokes that you're the only person he can stand to be around (since you're the only one he can't really bring himself to scold/yell at) but it's really only because he's a soft boy for you

thinks you're the best thing he's ever tasted...... ;) ;) ;) & if he's a chef by day, you bet he's a professional eater by night.........................................

I think fights could get intense because Sirius is just an intense person but I honestly don't see them ever lasting very long because he's so sensitive and so down bad that seeing you hurt or upset is pretty much the worst thing imaginable to him and he's quickly trying to find ways to correct it

takes a while for him to admit (or perhaps even realize) how down bad he is for you, but once he does....good luck shaking him

BEST HOMEMADE SOUP FOR WHEN YOU'RE SICK -> he's very teasing about it and constantly laughing at how pathetic you are but also sooooo dutiful in his care for you

[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[hotwaterandmilk]

So I decided to pick up physical copies of The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions from Yen Press on a whim the other day. I've been in such a nostalgia hole about Ragawa's works thanks to the Hanayume 50th celebrations and I remembered her manga adaptation of Konohara Narise's novels had restarted not that long ago. It made sense to get the books and begin a catchup re-read before the fifth volume comes out in English.

I'll be honest, I don't remember much about the Kyuketsuki to Yukai na Nakamatachi novels or manga from when I first encountered them. I had the first two manga volumes in Japanese at one point, but gave them away when the manga went on hiatus years ago. However, upon beginning my catchup re-read in English I was struck by how much the story resonated with me now.

If you've never read the series before now, long story short from Yen Press, "When a vampire from Nebraska named Al gets frozen in bat form, he winds up in Japan under the care of a dark and mysterious man covered in a bloody scent!"

I'd like to get into why I think this series is worth picking up now and for that it's probably easier to throw my ramblings under a cut.

I feel like the humorous elements of the series are what get talked about in the (admittedly scant) English language reviews for the series and, while the whole setup can be quite amusing, the more serious elements are what actually makes it stand out from other vampire tales with romantic elements. While everything is exaggerated, there are some very "real" aspects that help The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions stand out in an endless sea of vampire tales.

For example, Al being bitten by a vampire wasn't a ticket to easy street. There was nothing glamorous about what happened to him. That bite ruined his life and through no fault of is own, he rapidly became destitute. Vampirism in fiction is often shown leading characters to social isolation, but not necessarily to poverty. Given that Al has lost everything that connected him to his previous life, it makes sense that in our current capitalistic society he'd also lose access to even the most basic things our societal identities afford us -- including housing.

So yes, it's amusing that this bat-boy ended up flash frozen and shipped with some meat to Japan. However, the circumstances that led up to that outcome are given the weight they deserve. You truly do feel for Al in these moments because haven't we all been, at one time or another in our lives, perilously close to losing everything? These fleeting glimpses at the past sting in otherwise rollicking segments of the story as they should. Everything beautiful in Al's present is something that he didn't have during his lowest points and you truly feel for him as he works to prolong these moments.

Another serious moment that lifts the series even higher in my eyes is when it becomes aparent that Akira has access to human remains. Rather than handwaving away the access to blood as a convenient way to get Al the nutrition he needs, a significant amount of time is dedicated to the ethics surrounding the situation. The gravity with which all lives should be handled post-mortem and just a generally respectful examination of embalming as a process.

Unsurprisingly, I find the portrayal of Al's "incomplete" vampirism as a form of disability to be a compelling take on the mythos too. Al gets almost none of the "benefits" of being a vampire due to the whole process "not being done properly." What this leaves him with are a lot of things that make his everyday life different from not just humans, but "complete" vampires as well.

These differences mean he struggles to feed himself properly, feels significant levels of pain, and his body is often weak or doesn't behave the way he wants it to. The cause here is obviously fiction, but the way Al's acquired disability impacts his capacity to function to an acceptable level in a society of "normal" folks (both human and vampire) really struck me as ringing true, at least for myself and my own disabilities.

Yeah, I'm not going to turn into an adorable bat (and truly, bat Al is A D O R A B L E) but the struggle to make use of the few good hours in a day when my body works to a degree, that's so goddamn real. Al wants to contribute to the household, to pay back Akira and to be a functioning member of society... but it's not as straightforward for him as it is for others and that's something I appreciate being explored here.

Another thing that stands out to me is Akira's sexuality. While there are a lot of misunderstandings with Al and Akira that lead to people assuming they're lovers, when Akira is pushed into a corner about having a lover he shuts this down by describing himself as being frigid or having a low libido (in very blunt language).

I feel like the depth of this is conveyed well in the English translation by the subsequent line:

While at this point in the series Akira hasn't labeled his sexuality as being either demisexual or asexual, this is definitely something that it feels like the narrative is leaning towards. Particularly when Al clarifies the difference, in his limited language skills, between the physical and the romantic.

Akira is still figuring out what is comfortable for him in terms of dealing with people, so it makes sense that his progress regarding intimacy has only accelerated after meeting Al. The batty vampire is pushing him towards understanding more about himself and how he chooses to interact with those around him, but the ball is still very much in Akira's court regarding whether he'd like to explore either the physical or emotional aspects of their relationship further. I found that really refreshing?

That this story allows the dark-haired, brooding hero who is one part of our lead will-they-or-won't-they, to assert that he doesn't feel the same level of physical attraction that others do. That he isn't entirely confident in this either, that it's a part of himself he's never opened up about before, that it's something Al uncovers and isn't suddenly changed to fit what is acceptable. But that it doesn't lessen Al's interest in him, it's just part of who Akira is... gah! It really resonated with me idk. I love some smut, but I also appreciate it when a story focused on something as sexual as vampirism chooses to eschew this in favour of raw emotional edging instead.

I've pushed the more serious elements of the text in this ramble, but before I wrap up I should really note that there are some very funny moments too. For example, Al's bluntness here when he speaks Japanese.

The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions isn't the best work of vampire fiction I've ever read, but it uses its recurring themes of isolation vs. the need for connection to craft an enjoyable narrative. One that I feel lingers in my mind a bit more than others. While Al's unique form of vampirism leads to some absurd escapades, the story is elevated by having its emotional core remain grounded in the intrinsic beauty of everyday human interaction and how even fundamentally different people can connect in small but significant ways.

Blah blah blah, you should check it out, I can't wait for the next volume, etc.

[lefarte]

How would they take care of a sick friend?

Characters: Levi, Olivia, Daan, Pav

Some of these could be read as platonic

A/N: This is… entirely self indulgent because I myself am sick….😭 but also hey hii hello. This was very comforting for me. No one requested it, but I actually wrote this a long time ago in my notepad app before I even made this blog. I learned a lot about writing in this time so I’m sorry if the quality is a bit worse.

TWS: sickness (obviously)

Levi

Levi has been through this before. He’s been sick more times in his life than he’s been healthy at this point. He knows what to do. He talks you through it slowly and precisely, he holds you hair back when you throw up, he changes your blankets when they get covered in sweat… he would never make you feel gross or ashamed, no matter how bad it gets.

That said, his personality isn’t going to completely flip on itself just because you’re sick. He wants to help you, but he is naturally timid. It might be awkward for a while. He struggles to carry a conversation at the best of times. Much less when you are in so much pain…

And depending on how feverish you are, it might be scary to fall in and out of sleep and see him staring at you from across the room with his big ass eyes. (It’s not his fault, he’s just worried.)

I also imagine he’s the type of guy who gets sick when he sees other people sick. So he’ll be holding back his own nausea for until you’re asleep, or until you’re back on your feet. Until then he would be on high alert, even more vigilant than usual. If an enemy made it inside while you were vulnerable, he would never forgive himself. So he’d pull out all the stops, barricading the doors, covering the windows… (even if it’s not necessary and you’re in a safe place, like the train.)

Hope you don’t plan on going anywhere once you get up because he’s going to get sick too now 💔

—

Olivia

She’s going to be all over you. Of course she doesn’t want to be overbearing, but she really doesn’t want to see her friend in pain! And she can’t wait to impress you with her knowledge of botany. She has something for every symptom, an oil or lotion or extract. If she doesn’t have it, she will track it down!

She really loves the feeling of you depending on her. This is a rare opportunity for her to prove her skills to you, and to herself. And there is no one better to understand your pain than her! She knows the feeling of being trapped in bed rest, antsy and lonely, better than anyone else.

Olivia is determined not to let you feel that way. She cares about you. She wants you to get better! If you refuse her advice or try to pretend like you’re not sick, she will be dejected.

She will try to take you outside to look at the flowers and get some sunshine, and she explains every flower in detail. (She would be happy to do that anyway.) She even brings you little bugs, and if she’s lucky, a frog or a lizard!

Will share her comfort items with you. She has weighted blankets, lots of medicine, and heat pads!

She reads books to you, and her voice is so beautiful you’ll fall asleep.

—

Daan

He lowkey feels guilty for failing to take care of you

After everything he lost, you’re his treasure! He would give you the best bedside care you’ve ever imagined, you’d never want for anything. All the stops, backrubs, cuddles, cleaning your forehead with rags. He would even pull out some tricks from his old butler days and make you some yummy soup.

If you look at him with big sad eyes or god forbid he sees a single tear, he’s whipping out the Sylvian magic. You’d have to beg him not to.

He absolutely would give you kisses, doesn’t care a bit if he gets sick. “Nothing that an ibuprofen and some cigarettes can’t fix, my darling.”

He would straight up give you opium if you asked, there is literally no better partner if you’re easily sick or chronically ill. Your face would be covered in lipstick kisses by the time it’s over.

Immediately after he’s done, he would go back to being a sarcastic and calm guy. Perhaps a little shy?

—

Pav

“Have a beer, sweetheart.”

This is not… the best person to be stuck with in this scenario. Because of his experience in the war, his pain scale is a little screwy, so it would take a lot for him to be concerned.

He still sticks around you though. He’s loyal to a fault with his partner, I truly believe this, he’s protective and affectionate. He would not abandon you at your weakest, no no no no. That’d be cruel.

He holds your hair up when you throw up. He will draw you a bath or or give you cuddles! He’s definitely a bit more accomadating when you’re sick.

Pav doesn’t mind kissing you when you’re sick. He tells you he’s never been sick before, in his life. You’ve certainly never seen like it in front of you, but if he’s lying, it’s totally debateable. It could be that he does get sick, he’s good at hiding it. But knowing that, he’d still give you hundreds of kisses all over.

You have the honor of sharing snacks with him (greedy hoarding bastard). If you’re good.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Tender

Eddie x fem reader

3.4K Words

Eddie loves on you while you're on your period and even finds that maybe you need a little something extra.

Warnings - SMUT, just a little rubbing action but still. Also super fluffy and sweet. Mentions of period and pain, mentions of blood. I think that's it.

A/N - We're down real bad y'all. I needed this the other night so bad, smut was not even planned it just happened.

Masterlist

The muscle cramping pain of your contracting uterus was enough to keep you half awake in the darkness of the room, whimpers of pain and small cries apparent among the silence.  Your heating pad was long forgotten on the floor since there was no relief offered when it had been in use earlier.  The bottle of painkillers sat abandoned on the nightstand after you’d popped a few hours ago with no aid in dulling the pain.  Nothing was working and you were a pathetic mess, sweating through the sheets and whining to no one in particular, just fully marinating in the discomfort.  Yet again your body was in a fit of rage and bloodshed as you laid there wounded from the war it waged on you.  

Shooting pains traveled from what felt like your abdomen all the way down your legs, if you were to stand you would be as decent at walking as a newborn calf.  The ache throughout your body held you hostage from sleep, the best you could do was lay there half awake and take each blow to your uterus with teary eyes and a wobbling lip.  Frustration plagued your mind, it was the middle of the night and there was nothing you could do but accept the abuse from your own body.  

Curling in on yourself, another whine escapes into the moonlit room and with it, a stir of a body next to you.  Eddie mumbles a few incoherent words as he comes into consciousness, rolling over to face you while wiping his eyes of sleep.  With very little lighting, you can still make out his features ever so slightly.  His huge eyes, plush lips, and wild hair sticking every which way, bangs standing straight up as they had been crushed against the pillow in his slumber.  Face puffy and eyes heavy, he props himself up on his elbow to check over your face the best he can in the dark.  “What’s goin’ on?”  He mumbles in confusion, half awake.  Your breathing is deepening as you plead with your body for some relief—a losing battle.  “N-nothing.”  Your voice is small and whiny, you can’t help it.  

Within seconds Eddie is wiping the drowsiness from his eyes and sitting up to flick the lamp on.  His pupils dilate before you both squint in the sudden brightness.  As he recovers, his face softens, carefully scooting closer to you to pull you up with him against the headboard.  “Baby, what’s the matter, huh?  C’mon tell me what happened.”  Tone gentle and patient, he holds you against his bare chest and lovingly runs his hands down your arms.  “H-hurts.  Really bad.”  Is all you can croak out in misery.  He’s at a loss for words while he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally clicks and he remembers you’d started your period earlier in the day which elicited an annoyed reaction from you but hadn’t taken over quite yet like it has now.  “Oh, sweets.  ‘M sorry.”  He whispers into your shoulder.  “What can I do?”  It’s a simple question however there is no answer because the fact is you’ve already tried everything while he was asleep next to you.  He quickly realizes this when he glances around for a solution and finds every item that should have helped to alleviate the pain already discarded since they obviously didn’t work.

Guilt wraps around him like an unfriendly blanket, he should have been comforting you and not selfishly sleeping peacefully.  Though it’s not his fault by any means he feels it’s the least he could do, he never had to go through that pain thankfully but he would do anything to make it stop so you could go to sleep.  He knew how much you hated it when you struggled to sleep, how alone you feel on those nights when it won’t wash over you as easily as others, he knows all too well how it feels himself and he would never sleep again if it meant that you got endless nights of tranquility.  

You can’t even respond in words anymore, opting to shake your head to let him know the answer is nothing.  There is nothing that can be done, it’s just a waiting game at this point.  Little pained noises escape you as you curl yourself into his chest, he gladly accommodates and molds his body around yours the way you need.  “I know, sweetheart, I know.  Do you need some water?”  He offers hopefully.  Another shake of your head has him frowning, his large hand cradling your head to his chest as a kiss is pressed to your temple.  “How long have you been up?”  Knowing you aren’t very verbal right now, he still asks the question.  You whimper into his warm skin.  “Never went to sleep.”  He figured this was the case but his heart still breaks at the helplessness in your wavering voice.  “Oh, baby.”  He’s swaying you to the left and to the right in a soothing manner as if you were a child needing to be rocked to sleep.  “You can always wake me up, okay?  Won’t ever be mad, I promise.”  His voice is quiet but honest, not a hint of hesitation.  

Nodding against his chest, you continue to suffer through the agony, your face flushed and your skin sticky with sweat.  “I have an idea.”  Eddie speaks up again, using his thumb to tilt your chin up at him, his eyes pooling in sympathy as yours reflect misery.  “Let’s get you in and out of the shower.  It’ll make you feel all refreshed and I can give you a little massage and see if that helps.  Wanna try that?”  You want to cry at how attentive and soft he is, the adoring look he gives you makes you want to melt like candy in his hands.  “Okay.”  You whisper, although you wanted so badly to tell him no because of how bad the muscles in your legs were aching.  Reluctantly, you crawl your way out of the bed and stand up shakily, Eddie right behind you.  As you make your way into the bathroom, he has you sit atop the closed toilet seat while he turns the hot water on and heads for the door again.  “You get undressed, I’m going to get you something comfy to wear.”  He instructs.  Your pouting and exhausted expression makes him want to hide you in his bed forever so that you can sleep all you damn well please.  You agree and begin slowly stripping your clothes away, preparing to embrace the stream of steaming water.  

Eddie returns seconds later with a neatly folded shirt that was definitely his and a pair of his boxers on top to use as shorts along with a pair of your ‘period panties’ that you winced at since they were already a bit stained from previous wars.  You couldn’t help the embarrassment as they sat right there in plain sight even though Eddie had no reaction and didn’t understand your bashful expression.  Despite all the time spent together, it was something you still felt sorry he had to deal with and you were working on it since he always told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that it was a natural thing and ‘blood is super metal anyway’ so how could he be grossed out?  Those were his words.  Once he processed where your focus was—on the stained panties used for this exact occasion, he sighs and sets the clothes on the counter as he steps closer to you and gives you ‘that look’.  The one that tells you ‘what have we talked about?’.  And then he goes onto his tangent.  “If you’re looking at those panties again thinking I should be grossed out and feeling bad about it or whatever then stop.  Cause I’m not and we have been over this.  A little blood ain’t gonna scare me away, sweets.”  He tells you with a raised brow, moving the shower curtain aside and gesturing for you to step into the shower.  “Now, would you like me to come with you or do you want to be alone?”  He’s pointing into the shower, a finger on the waistband of his boxers as he waits for your answer.  You meekly tell him you’d like him to join you and he happily obliges.

The steaming water temporarily melts away the pain, meaning for a brief second before you can feel it again.  It’s better than nothing so you take in as much of the hot water as possible since the trailer park didn’t have much to begin with and you were grateful that Eddie was sparing it in an attempt to make you feel better.  Eddie’s hands slide around your waist from behind, fingers carefully massaging your lower stomach as he’s done so many times before.  The combination of the hot water and the movements of his fingers provide some comfort even if just for a moment.  His fingers slide along your wet skin to trace over your hips and to the dip under your spine where he begins working his magic at your lower back.  A moan of content is earned from you and he smiles into your bare shoulder, leaving a kiss as he continues.  “There you go.”  He says, soft voice echoing off the shower walls.  “Just give me all that tension, baby.”  You shudder at his words as they tickle the skin of your neck.  Another kiss pressed to your jaw, with sweet intention, nothing further.  You visibly relax as his hands work against your tightened muscles, a breathy sigh leaving your lips.  “Good girl, let it all out.”  The hormones rage inside of you and you can’t help but throb at his words even though the pain is still evident in your uterus.  Another kiss is placed on your neck, trailing more down to your shoulder.  “E-eddie if you don’t stop we’re gonna have a problem.”  You just about whine like a dog in heat.  

A deep chuckle vibrates into your shoulder as his kissers get sloppier.  “Yeah?  You feeling better?  My needy girl.”  You can feel his grin against you and you don’t know if you want to wipe it right off his face or turn around and stick your tongue down his throat.  “Eddie!  ‘M on my period, we can’t.”  You huff, now slightly in pain as well as sexually frustrated.  “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t rile you up just to leave you hangin’ you know that.”  He continues massaging his fingers into your lower back while kissing back up your neck again, his tongue licking up the water droplets that lingered.  “Let me take care of you, baby.  It might help.”  He offers, slowly traveling his fingers back over your hips and cupping your heat in one hand, the other finding your nipple and giving it a pinch, causing you to whimper and melt into his touch.  “Eddie nooo, I’m bleeding.”  Your words say one thing but the way you mewl screams at him to abuse your clit until you're a puddle in his hands.  “I don’t think you actually mind but I’ll stop.”  He says removing his hand, you whine at the loss of his warmth.  “I’m not gonna do anything until you tell me what you want.”  His tone is teasing, he knows how worked up you are right now and he’s reveling in it, how desperate and huffy you are.  He can only imagine how swollen that little bud between your legs is, he just wants to suck it right into his mouth—but maybe he’ll save that for another time.  He didn’t want to scare you away, you were still learning to not be embarrassed about everything period related with him.  

“Tell me what you want, use your words, honey.”  He sounds mean but eager to please, your favorite.  His lips are now lingering on the shell of your ear and you can’t take it anymore.  “Please Eddie!”  Your voice is high and whiny.  “Please what?”  He nibbles on your ear, your body jolting while his hands run down your arms.  “Please play with me!”  You beg, clenching your thighs and gripping at his arms.  A smirk against your neck and his hand is back over your heat, a finger delicately tracing your slit tauntingly, his other hand gripping your waist.  He continues to linger over your slit, a feather light touch as you longingly grind your hips to meet nothing.  “That’s all you need, huh?  Just need to be played with like a little toy?”  His voice forces you to claw at his forearm, leaving little indents with your nails but he doesn’t mind.  You pathetically try to create friction by grabbing his wrist and positioning his hand toward your clit but it fails.  “You just need to cum don’t you?  Will that make everything all better?”  He asks, finger still tortuously close to where you need but not at all giving in.  “Mmhmm.”  You whine, head thrown back onto his shoulder.  “Please, Eddie.”  A whimper into his neck.

The pain is almost entirely forgotten about, a new kind of ache throbbing in your core.  “Don’t worry, baby.  Gonna take care of you.  My good girl.”  Eddie’s raspy voice echoes into your ear.  The pad of his finger drags across your clit and a gasp escapes your lungs.  The friction it creates is everything you need but also not enough at the same time.  He picks up on a rhythm that has you stirring your hips into his hand, a series of moans leaving you as you grip into his bicep, nearly drawing blood.  “That’s it, right there, huh?”  He questions with a hint of mockery.  You bite your lip as you nod, exhaling a heavy breath.  He keeps his pace steady and brings his other hand up to travel over your chest, up your neck and lets his thumb caress your bottom lip, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.  You can’t control it when you dip your head down to catch his thumb in your mouth, your tongue swirling around it and releasing it with a pop, it’s simply too perfect.  Eddie releases a quiet groan while he grabs your neck, not restricting air flow but still putting you in your place, firmly pressing his chest into your back.  “Baby, why are you acting so slutty for me?  It’s like you’re in heat.  Can’t get enough can you?”  Again he says it so meanly but it spurs you in and you’re getting closer and closer as he rubs your clit just how you need.  “E-eddie, please.  Wanna cum so bad.”  Your voice is barely there, so breathy and you’re pathetically bucking your hips.  “Yeah?  My pretty baby wanna cum?  Make a mess for me baby, why don’t you?”  He continues leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses down your neck, craning his head to leave a few on your heaving chest.  You can’t form a coherent thought as you begin seeing spots and that feeling deep within you starts to coil up.  The muscles in your abdomen begin to clench tightly as he builds you up into pure bliss.  You’re almost there, chasing the release you so desperately crave, a whining mess in his arms.  “There it is, come on, cum for me.”  He urges, noticing the way your body begins to shake as you get closer and closer, eyes rolling back.  “E-eddie.”  A whimper escapes as you grip his bicep even harder than before.�� You’re teetering on the brink of your orgasm, it’s right in front of you all you have to do is take it.  

Hot pleasure gushes through your veins as your body convulses and you greedily grind against Eddie’s hand.  His other hand firmly grips your jaw as you involuntarily hang your mouth open, eyes shut in euphoria.  “Such a good girl.”  He mumbles into your neck, his arms are the only thing holding you up, your legs now shaky just from the pleasure, no longer the excruciating pain you experienced prior.  You cling onto his arms as you come down from your high, his finger still lazily circling your clit until you become overly sensitive, writhing in his arms, trying to push his hand away.  The noises you make as you struggle to wiggle away have him cursing under his breath but he still keeps his composure.  “So fucking sexy, baby.  Feel better?”  He asks genuinely, nose pressed into your cheek as you recover.  He ceases his movements against your clit, showing you mercy.  “Much better.”  You breathe out.  You’re absolutely out of it, heavily breathing and flushed as your full weight is leaned against him.  

At this point he knows your fucked out, the cramps from earlier combined with all of the energy you just exerted have taken a toll and he needs to get you to bed.  Although he’s hard himself, he takes precedence in putting you first and he knows the time and place.  Now is not it and he knows if he’d ask you, you would oblige and get him off but you really aren’t in any position to.  Especially since now you seem so sleepy as opposed to earlier when you’d been having the worst time even closing your eyes.  This is where he steps in to make sure your well-being is put above everything else.  “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”  He whispers, kissing your cheek, shutting the water off before reaching outside of the shower for a towel, still steadying you with one arm.  “Okay.”  You whisper back, eyes drooping dramatically.  

A towel drapes around your frame as Eddie takes care to dry you off, turning you to face him while he tenderly presses his lips to yours.  He finishes off by bundling you up and then reaching for his own towel.   No words are required while you both step out of the shower and onto the bath mat.  The mirror is foggy and the air is humid from all the steam the shower had just released.  He gingerly grabs the towel off of you after he pats himself dry and lets you get yourself dressed, situating your pad and everything how you need it as he pulls his boxers on.  

As you dress yourself, he quietly makes his way out of the bathroom, up to something but what, you’re not sure.  Shrugging, you throw the towel over the shower curtain rod and head for his room, the bathroom door creaking on its hinge as you exit and turn out the lights.  When you reach his room, you could just about sob at the sight.  Eddie has your heating pad in place, already heated, a big glass of water on your nightstand that certainly wasn’t there before, a movie loaded up on the small tv resting on his dresser, and he’s digging through one of the drawers in the nightstand where your stuff lives, pulling out a hairbrush as he turns to look at you with big doting eyes.  He throws himself onto his side of the bed and pats his hand on your side, inviting you in.  “C’mere.”  He says hushed, a dopey grin on his face.  Happy tears brim at your eyes while without hesitation you hop into bed beside him.  He pulls you between his legs as you face the tv, him pressing play on the remote while he gets to work on brushing out any tangles in your hair.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”  You tell him shyly, the movie playing in the background.  A kiss is pressed to your crown.  “Of course, sweets.”  He mumbles.  “Always, for you.”  Once he finishes with your hair, you rest your head against his chest, his arms lazily draping around your waist while you almost fall asleep on him.  

He knows you won’t be comfortable in this position as you fall deeper into sleep so he takes the liberty of moving you over to your side of the bed, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket in the process.  Delicate breaths are felt on your neck while his fingers softly graze over your ribs.  The movie is forgotten about as sleep finally takes over, allowing you to finally relax after a night of bloodshed.  The last thing you remember is the feeling of Eddie’s calloused fingertips running along your back, encouraging you further into your dream state.  A whispered “I love you.” seals the deal and you’re out for the night. 

~end~

Masterlist

[sansacherie]

Some of you do need to reevaluate what you’re saying about Alicent.  Full offence.

Because trying to argue that Tywin Lannister is a “better parent” than Alicent because he was willing to rip apart the Riverlands after Tyrion was abducted while she “gave up Aegon” to be executed. Which like, ignoring the myriad of issues with that scene and how it genuinely hurt Alicent in ways that went SO FAR BEYOND Aegon, it’s also inescapably true that it wasn’t a choice!  It’s not presented as something that is done willingly or happily on her part.   

So yeah, Tywin.   Something that has never been made subtle and that is the reasonings behind his reaction.  Tywin is not acting out of the particular concern of a parent for his child, desperate to get them back safely,  he was acting out of concern for what he perceived as an insult to House Lannister which is what Tyrion represented.   In his POV Tyrion has no illusions about his father’s response.   The one person who is geninuely concerned for Tyrion for his own sake is Jaime.

But yeah the reality is yeah Tywin obviously had to do something, but its inescapable that his response was simply nightmarishly disproportionate and unjustifiable.  Instead of taking reasonable avenues like appealing straight to the king, he decides to go attacking villages in the riverlands.  Just bloodshed.  Its extremely important to understand that he is not being forced to react that way.  

As mentioned before,  concerning Alicent its not a decision made willingly or happily by her and whats more we have the context of her trying to negotiate a surrender that will save lives lives that includes her daughter and granddaughter, and the people of Kingslanding because Alicent knows full well that a sacking of a city is not pretty.  

Secondly… just in case y’all forgot, but that man was happy to let Tyrion be executed for a crime that he knew he was innocent of, or at the very least was happy enough to believe in his guilt because his death would have been convenient!!!!!! And whats more, he actually had the power to do a lot of things differently with Tyrion after Joffrey’s death! He was Hand of the King for underage Tommen which meant he could have overruled Cersei as regent.  But instead he willingly sat through that farce of a trial.  And if you try arguing well it was Tyrion’s fault because naturally in a fit of rage he falsely confessed to Joff’s murder and demanded a trial by combat…Im sorry but I don’t find it at all unlikely that Tyrion played right into Tywins hands.  Either way, the point is Tywin was perfectly fine with his son being executed or sent to the Wall for a crime that he was innocent of, because he sees him a fucking inconvenience for his ideal Lannister vision which is why he never wanted Tyrion inheriting the Rock…. Whereas the execution of Alicent’s son from her POV is framed as a tragedy.  Like as much as the writers play it as Alicent “removing herself from the narrative” or whatever its still an inescapably a tragedy for Alicent and even though in the final edit where they removed Olivia Cooke playing it as her “wanting to spit in Rhaenyra’s face” while she struggled to accept the terms, terms that she's sees as inevitable particularly (and I use that term accept loosely). Olivia doesn’t deserve to have her acting insulted with the way some of y’all ignore the absolute mingled devastation and resignation and hopelessness at Rhaenyra’s demand because y'all pissed.

Unfortunately all this shows how poor writing = dumb takes and how Alicent going to dragonstone needed to be in the hands of better writers