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jonnywaistcoat · 16 hours

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What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

#Big thoughts #Big rambles #These are my current thoughts at least #They will likely change #As all things do

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romanticintheory · 3 days

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Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

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vroomvro0mferrari · 9 hours

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LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women.

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls.

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks.

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind.

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment is not that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse.

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm..

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment.

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep.

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

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afroditisworld · 3 days

Text

Salvatore

Spencer Reid x female!Reader

minors dni

Warnings : smut without a plot :)) praise kink and hands kink, oral (female received), switch Spencer, use of pet named (good girl, love, baby, brat, sweet) if you are not into that please do not read.

word count : 3k

Dating Spencer was never a plan. But here you were, falling for him more and more each day. He was not someone you expected to fall in love with; you didn't usually go for guys like him. But he had something that made you feel safe and understood at the same time. He was different from anyone you had ever dated before, which made him so special to you. You were younger than him, and you sometimes worried that you weren't what he needed in his life. But Spencer was always there to remind you that you were his safe person.

You didn't have always much time to spend together because of his work and your studies, but whenever that happened, it felt like time stood still and you were the only two people in the world. You went out for coffee or a date in a library, trying to find books for each other, and when you just wanted to relax, you would just lay on the sofa and read books.

Tonight was like this, with you two being too tired to go out but wanting to spend time together. He was at his desk, studying something for his new case. He had promised you that it wouldn't take long, but half an hour became one and then two, and you started getting bored. You didn't want to bother him, but your boyfriend was looking so damn good doing what he was good at, and you couldn't stop staring at him. His focused expression and the way his brow furrowed in concentration were oddly attractive to you. You wish he was more focused on you; however, you were afraid to ask for his attention.

You couldn't quit thinking about how beautiful his hands were. You loved how his fingers moved with precision and grace, making you feel an odd mixture of admiration and desire. The longer you watched him, the more you imagined him touching you. You couldn't stop thinking about his hands running down your body till they landed on the band of your pyjama shorts. Spencer knew it he wasn't naive. He noticed how you would stare at his hands and bite your lips. He saw how your gaze remained fixed on them while he was reading, or how you would simply stare at them when you assumed he wasn't paying attention.

"Spence, I... I just," You couldn't admit your desire for his hands; you were only hoping he wouldn't see through your frozen expression.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked. He sounded so calm, as if he hadn't caught you staring at his hands, and wishing he was doing something other than work.

"Yeah…why wouldn't I be?" You replied and gave him a forced and awkward smile, hoping he wouldn't ask anything more. The tension between you two was clear, but you attempted to hide it.

"Well, first of all, your face is kind of red, you were zooming out, and you were also staring at my hands." He spoke without breaking eye contact.

"I-I'm not staring," you responded quickly, attempting to explain yourself, but your stutter made you seem more guilty.

You could stop thinking how long have you been staring at his hands? What if he thought it was weird? What if you make him uncomfortable?

You hadn't dated Spencer for a while, and he didn't know all of your likes, so you were afraid to tell him.

When you finally mumbled, "I-I just... um, I really like your hands," you could feel the heat rising on your face. Spencer's face softened, a tiny smile spreading across his lips. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure to use them to hold yours more often," he said making you blush even more.

"Are you done with your work?" you asked eagerly, hoping to attract his attention.

With an innocent smile, Spencer shook his head and chuckled. "I have a few more things to finish up before I'm done," he said, noticing your disappointed look. "But I can come there and sit with you while I work if you'd like." You blushed again and nodded quickly, letting him know how much you wanted to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat at Spencer's offer. You could feel his warmth and comfort spreading over you as he placed himself next to you. You looked at him, and you asked softly, "Can I lay with my head on your thigh?"

He nodded, and as your head rested on his leg, one of his hands played with your hair. You looked up to him with doe eyes and made yourself comfortable. Spencer's gentle touch and the way he stroked his fingers through your hair left you feeling desperate. Spencer's hand discovered your sweet place, and you let out a sweet groan. His touch caused shivers down your spine. You knew he was teasing you, so you placed your hand on his thigh and massaged small circles.

Your hands moved higher, attempting to reach the spot you desired the most. Spencer's breath caught as your hand came closer to where you wanted it, but it didn't get far. He grasped your wrist, and you glanced up at him innocently.

"Don't tease me, Y/N." You could see the desire in his eyes, which just increased yours. With a devilish smirk, you asked, "Who said I was teasing?" You felt like your entire body was on fire. You wanted him to touch, feel, and kiss you. He was so close and yet so far away; you weren't sure what got into you, whether it was his hands and how they made you feel or the way he played with your hair.

He looked down at you, smirking, and said, "Don't you want to be my good girl, Y/N?" His voice was deep but lovely, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded before even trying to process what he said.

"So don't tease me, love, and let me finish my job," he replied, releasing your wrist. But you weren't expecting this response, so you got up from his thighs . As you struggled to process his words, you felt a rush of eagerness and nervousness wash over you. You couldn't resist the anticipation of his domination, but you didn't want to wait.

"I don't want to wait," you said as you tilted your head. His eyes darkened, and he raised his eyebrows. "Impatient, are we?" he replied with a smirk, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder. "I like that in you," he added before pulling you up to his lap. He left the file on the small table that was beside the sofa, and then his hands touched your waist.

He cupped the side of your face with one of his hands. "My girl's so needy that she can't even wait five more minutes," he said, and you bit your lips. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand. "I can't help it when you're around," you whispered, feeling his grip tighten slightly in response. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, and you melted into the kiss, feeling a rush of warmth run through your body. His touch was intoxicating, and you knew you'd never want to be anywhere else than in his arms. Your hands slid up his thighs to the button on his jeans as soon as he pulled back. He sighed and dropped his head back as you unbuttoned his jeans. You were so eager that you almost didn't recognise yourself.

Before you could even remove his trousers, he stopped you with his hand on your wrist.

"Not so fast," he whispered, kissing you again. Spencer changed your position within a minute.

Now you were sitting on the sofa with your legs open and Spence on his knees between them. His hands moved gently over your body, making you feel warm with excitement. His intense gaze at you caused your heart to rush even quicker.

He was now staring up at you with an eager grin. Spencer's hands moved from your waist to your thighs before touching your pyjama shorts. With your help, he carefully slipped them down, exposing more of your skin to his desperate gaze. The air between you cracked with longing; you couldn't wait any longer; you needed him to touch and feel you. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your sensitive core. He hadn't even touched you down there, but you knew you were wet; you could feel the frustration running through your body.

"Please, Spencer," you asked. You had no idea what you were begging for, but you were willing to accept whatever he offered you. He wet his lips and used his hands to remove your panties. You stared down at him and realised that even though he was on his knees, he had complete control, which he proved as soon as his hands reached your clit.

Spencer teased you more, wanting to hear the sounds you made as a reaction to the pleasure he gave you. You bit your lips and pushed your hips towards him, aching to feel more.

"Patient," he replied without breaking his sight from you. He looked at you with lust and need, but he refused to touch you unless you begged him to. You knew Spencer would always make the wait worthwhile.

“Please, Spencer just- do anything, please I need- Ah.” you didn't have the time to complete your sentence and Spencer's mouth was now on your clit. He always knew how to please you, especially when he would eat you out. He was a man with an eidetic memory after all, of course he knew your body better than you.

“You’re such a t-tease Spence” you whined. He looked up at you with his gorgeous eyes and a smirk and before you knew it his fingers were inside of you. You were so wet already that his fingers could easily slip inside you. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, he couldn’t and the truth was that he didn’t want to. It was one of his favourite things to do, watching you fall apart just because of his fingers and mouth.

“P-please” you managed to say again.

“Begging is a good look for you, darling but I’m sure you don’t know what you are begging for, do you ?” he said with a grin.

“Don’t stop Spencer” you cried out.

Spencer was eating you out like a man starved. The fingering and eating duo was phenomenal and he knew that. He was practically making out with your clit.

When he pulled his fingers out you cried out feeling so empty, but immediately Spencer spread your pussy lips with his fingers as he pressed his tongue inside of you. Your back arched and a sinful moan left your lips. Your legs started shaking and you could feel yourself getting closer as you tried to close your thighs together. Spencer understood that and with his hand placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

“You want to come Y/N? ” he asked hot breath hitting your core and sending shivers through your spine.

“God-yes” you moaned as Spencer’s lips touched you again, you felt your clit pulsing and twitching in his mouth with his fingers once again inside you.

“Then cum to my fingers Y/N” Spencer whispered as your pussy squeezed rhythmically around his fingers finding your climax. You closed your eyes and your head fell back as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer started leaving wet kisses on your thighs and when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him he said “I want you to ride me. Can you do that pretty girl?” he asked. You just nodded eager to please him.

When he placed himself next to you he helped you climb on him.

Spencer’s hands moved tightly around your waist, when he tried to place you on his thighs, sending goosebumps to your whole body. Your hand fell to the zipper of his jeans unzipping it as fast as you could. You could finally see how hard he was. You looked at him biting your lips so innocently, his eyes never looked away watching every move you made.

“Eating me out really does make you hard,” you whispered in his ear and smirked. His eyes darkened as he pulled you by your hair lightly to make you look at him.

“You’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” He grunted softly “You were the one who was begging asking to be touched.” you blushed and tried to look away. “So if you want to cum I suggest to stop being a brat.”

Spencer always was talkative during sex but now he was being mean and bold.

“S-sorry” you managed to say.

With Spencer’s help, you remove his jeans and boxer his hard dick was licking with pre-cum as it hit his flat stomach.

You decided to tease him some more jerking his length with your palm as you go for a kiss, moans dying in your mouth.

“Just- Just ride me already” Spencer groaned you grinned at him before you opened your mouth and said, “And I thought I was the needy one”. His hands were now gripping your thighs trying to guide you on top of him and without any warning he slipped inside you. You were already wet because of your previous orgasm but Spencer was big and you could still feel the way he was stretching you out.

“Always so tight,” he breathed out. Spencer didn’t move he didn’t know just how badly you ached for him, so he waited to adjust to him. Your hands were resting on his chest, you were trying your best not to fall apart and collapse on him. As you sank down on him he knew he should help you but he loved watching you struggle. So you decided to take matters into your own hands, as you started straddling him. You opened slightly your mouth and a small cry left your lips. Your head fell back and you started moving. With every rise of your hips and bounce of your ass against him you were taking him deeper.

“P-please” Words were coiled at your throat, coming out as broken sobs, wishing for more but you were starting to get tired of doing all the work.

“If you want something, you have to use your words, babe” Spencer hissed. You tried to move faster but your legs were giving up on you. Spencer could feel the way your warm walls throbbed around him, but he also noticed how your pace slowed down.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” He whispered in your ear leaving a wet kiss there.

“I can-fuck, I can handle it.” You were I mess, your lips were trembling and Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of you. Thrusting yourself up and down along his cock was causing your boobs to bounce in front of him begging him for his attention. And the next thing you know is that his mouth scatters wet kisses all over your boobs.

“Go faster,” he said plainly with a bit of a whine.

“I can't, too m-much Spence” you whined as you kept riding him.

“Oh you want my h-help” he managed to breathe out. You couldn't say anything your mind was far gone for a while now and the only thing that you could do was nod your head.

“Use your words, baby, you are a smart girl, Right” he teased you. He always knew what to say to make your walls throb around him.

“Pl-please help me” you stuttered.

“Help you with what baby, come on,” he said as he let his hands fall on your ass.

“Cum” you whined. You didn't have to ask him twice as he started helping you with your movement. Your hips were now slamming up too recklessly giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Faster—ah shit—“ you were a hot mess, but believe me Spencer loved the view.

“I'm sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making” he grinned at you teasingly. His fingers sank into the smooth fat, forcing your movements to speed up, and you're mewing, pleading with him to give you more, more, more.

Spencer was hitting that one spot and your eyesight was beginning to blur. He moaned loudly and bucked his hips up into you.

“Feels so good S-Spencer” you cried out. You started getting louder with watery eyes as you got closer to your orgasm, that was the signature of him to go faster. You could feel him pulsing inside you since he was getting closer as well. He placed his hand on your throat making you come closer to kiss you. Your eyes fell on his hands his veins were popping out and you couldn't take your eyes off of them.

“S-so pretty” you mewed before he kissed you. But you were struggling to kiss him back as he was fucking you so good.

“I-fuck S-Spence I’m g-gonna cum” you said.

“C-cum for me sweet” he stuttered softly while he was getting closer with every movement.

“So good…you’re doing so good, such a good girl for me,” he praised, suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure your pussy had given him.

His praises practically take you over the edge, forcing you to lean forward and put your arms on his shoulders to hold yourself from falling on him while continuing to ride out your orgasm.

“Y/N” Spencer moaned “I’m cumming, don’t stop, please. Don’t stop” You always loved how he would beg as he was getting closer.

“Beg,” you said as you pulled his hair feeling more in control now as you keep riding him.

“Don’t…nghh- don’t be a brat” he groaned as he came inside you filling you up with his cums.

Spencer needed some time to catch his breath and calm down from his climax before he tried to help you stand up. But you shocked your head.

“I want to be close to you, please” you begged.

“You know actually the chances of-mphh” he started saying but you cut him off by kissing him.

“You know I don’t mind,” you said as you tried to stoop up “But if it makes you uncomfortable I can always go clean up” you continued but before you could even get off of him he pushed back at him.

“N-no stay” he murmured. You nodded at him with a little smile and rested your head on his shoulder as he started talking about a new poem that he read.

Spencer maybe made you wait but he always fucked you like a gentleman.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

reblogs are always appreciated !

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily

#x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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avis-writeshq · 19 hours

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pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case.

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory.

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different.

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

***

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing.

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse.

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?”

Emily and JJ are all too pleased.

reblogs are always appreciated !!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader fluff #matthew gray gubler fluff

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furiousgoldfish · 3 days

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This is going to sound incoherent to those who haven't been told over and over they're monsters or demons or animals as children, but I need to write it down.

It was often I would be told that I was some kind of evil creature and not a child, as a justification for abusing me, and I wouldn't have any kind of response to that, because how do you combat that? How do you respond to a parent or a family member calling you a snake and a swine and satan? I would get frozen in doubt and start to internalize, that I must be non-human, I must be evil and fundamentally wrong and demonic in some way, because I couldn't find any argument against it. After all, these people were saying it so surely, so filled with rage and righteous justice, that I was non-human, that it was not only okay but necessary to hurt me, and it's all I've ever known. And I still get flashbacks to those moments when I would be told stuff like 'you should have been strangled to death the second you were born', and I freeze. It hurts. I can't reason with hatred like that.

It's only today my brain finally found some counter arguments to it.

Was I born to a human being, or to an animal? If I had been an animal, I would have been born to an animal mother. And she wouldn't hate me like you do. Even if I was a baby snake, there would have been no need to torture me, I would have been normal and natural as a snake. But, even as a child, I had arms and legs, it was obvious I wasn't a snake.

If I as a demon, how would I be born into a family of humans? Wouldn't it be shown in the color of my eyes, or my skin, or my actions? Have I been displaying anything but normal child behaviour? How would anyone be able to tell I was a demon, if I was born to humans, acted like a normal human child, and had never done acts of irreparable evil and sadism? What made me a demon then?

If there was nothing but evil in me, why was I in so much fear and pain all the time? Is that how evil-doers feel? Why was I too scared to do even normal, mundane things that other kids fearlessly did? Why was nobody afraid of me? Why did people feel comfortable hurting me, cornering me and attacking me, if I was so dangerous and malicious?

It was painfully obvious that I was a human child from the start. Calling a human child demonic is not normal, it's not well-intentioned, it's not for the child's own good. It's cruel and vicious. And it wasn't based on anything inside of me. You saw a child you wanted to hurt repeatedly, and making the child believe they're not human was the simplest way for you to get away with it. Why did you need to hurt the child repeatedly? Even if you believed it was something else, an animal or an evil creature, why did it give you pleasure to hurt it over and over again? Why would you intentionally corner a small creature inside of your home and cause pain to it? Did it give you pleasure to see fear and tears? Did you enjoy it so much you just had to keep doing it?

All small humans are the same, they have small little limbs, they're squishy, they're sensitive, they get spooked and scared easily, they like playing brave to make themselves feel stronger. There's no reason to corner and torture one, and call them evil for that. I was the same. I was acting brave but I was small, and soft, with little limbs, easily spooked, easily brought to tears. What was in you to want to break me? What was it worth to you to do it?

You could have picked any child for it, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I was just what was in the house.

#cult abuse #brainwashing #child abuse #tw graphic threats #tw graphic death threats #tw threats to kill a toddler #psychological abuse #emotional abuse

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rizzoreads88 · 16 hours

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Let’s Talk about Azriels shadows & Elain

“Azriels shadows vanish & skitter around Elain they don’t like her!”

I see this argument used by the anti elriels all the time and it’s not factual.

They bring up how his shadows skitter from her in the azriel bonus chapter.. We also have multiple scenes his shadows skitter from his own breath…

Here in Acomaf…

& Here in Acosf.

“Well it says his shadows skittered back from Elains breath not just skittered.. it’s different”

As we see here the definition of “skitter” doesn’t change whether his shadows “just skittered” or “skittered back”.Its the same reaction.. the direction they skitter doesn’t change the meaning…

Now let’s look at some other instances where Azriels shadows vanish..

We See his shadows vanish when he relaxes around Rhysand & Mor In Acomaf…

His shadows are not around when he’s flying with Feyre in Acomaf..

Also his shadows disappear again when he’s having dinner with the inner circle in Acomaf…

if his shadows vanishing was a bad thing why does it happen when he relaxes? Why do they vanish or go away when he’s with his family?

The only time we see Azriels shadows actually hide is around Koschei.

When Azriels shadows hide from Koschei they don’t vanish. They tuck behind his wings. So if Azriels shadows vanishing meant something bad why wouldn’t they vanish from the big bad evil guy when he’s scared?

Now let’s look at other ways Azriels shadows respond to Elain..💙

In Acowar they light up at Elains smile..

In Acosf they get ready to strike Nesta for insulting Elain…

if his shadows didn’t like elain why would they want to strike someone for simply insulting her?

Azriels shadows react differently to many people however this argument that they don’t like elain or don’t want them together is false from what we have seen in canon.

@elriel-month

#acotar #elriel #azriel #canon #elain x azriel #pro elriel #acosf #sarah j maas #elain archeron #elriel month 2024

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adollrable · 6 hours

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Talking in your sleep

ও summary: you hear your boyfriend say things while he sleeps.

ও cw: leon kennedy (re4r) x female reader! fluff, established relationship, him being a sleepyhead!

ও wc: 5200 (WTFFFF🗣️🗣️🗣️)

a/n: so i have this little headcanon... that when leon is deep in sleep, he talks while he sleeps... and that's all, it came to me listening to the song by the romantics :p something small (i think) i hope y'all like it =]

You love being with Leon.

You always learn something new with him day by day. Either from the anecdotes of him training in the military, or those (scarce) of him training to be a police officer.

At first he was a closed man, without the slightest desire to open his heart. You changed that, and now you are his little treasure.

There are still things that he hasn't finished showing but as you told him in a memory of your first date, you can go little by little.

Lately, you've learned more about small details and habits that he wouldn't feel comfortable showing around other people, you see more of him as a person.

So, you find yourself mesmerized by every new thing you see in him. Every detail, whether of his body or his personality.

Tiny moles, some acne marks on his cheeks, that stubble that never grows. His hair? How is it so soft and pretty? His fingers feel rough but his palms are very soft, probably because of the fingerless gloves he wears on his missions. His legs are strong but they are cozy when you sit on them for a cuddle session. His arms serve to warm you on those cold nights, and he loves to sleep cuddling next to you.

You also noticed that in public he is usually not a big fan of displays of affection, but in subtle ways he lets others know that you are not available. Hand on your waist, hands intertwined, kisses on your forehead, he offers you his jacket.

But at home? He pampers you as you deserve. Kisses everywhere, hugs from behind while you cook something for both of you, when you are very tired of wearing heels and you get home he doesn't hesitate to pick you up. And the list can continue.

Now... There's a little problem.

It may be silly, but it doesn't stop you from being insecure. And it's ridiculous to be!

But... The times Leon has said I love you are counted. You even think you can count them on the fingers of just one hand.

And you understand that everyone has different languages to express their love to their loved ones... But you bombard him with "i love you's" every day and he responds with a kiss on the cheek.

It sucks to feel insecure about that when it is obvious that the man loves you, even more so knowing that he is still a closed guy about several things.

But still, you can't help it.

You adjust the sheets in your shared room, lying on the bed, followed by Leon who lies on his side. You look at him and smile as you lean down to place a kiss on his forehead to which he smiles slightly. "Is that a good night kiss?" Leon asks as he settled down next to you, resting his head on your chest.

"Mhm, so you have nice dreams." You responded to which the smile on his face remained. You wrapped your arms around him and let out a sigh. His cool skin greeting your hands as you delicately ran them down his back, feeling his muscles relax.

Leon always sleeps without pajamas, and if it's cold he only puts on cotton pants. He says it's enough for him to have you and the sheets to keep him warm.

"Sleep well baby." He says as he similarly wraps his strong arms around you, a firm grip but not so tight as to hurt you. "Sleep well, Lee."

And with that, between small, lazy smiles, you fell asleep.

Until you started hearing things.

Your sleepy mind does its best to bring you back to consciousness, and you come across an image so sweet that it made you smile.

Leon remained asleep on your chest, one arm thrown over your stomach. His cheek was pressed against one of your breasts and made his face bulge, his lips remain in a small pout. You wanted to kiss him until you were tired. But you noticed that he was very asleep.

One of the things you learned about him is that Leon is a light sleeper. At the slightest noise he wakes up.

Leon's missions, in addition to the horrors that come with doing his job and especially the stress, make it very difficult for him to sleep as peacefully as he is doing in your arms. So you are relieved that you can give him a little comfort to sleep so peacefully.

So, you gently ran your hands through his hair, which made him let out a sigh and move to cling closer to you. That made you stop for fear of waking him up, but what he did next surprised you.

You noticed how his lips (still pouting) parted slightly and the noise that made you wake up came from him. You were no stranger to this, as Leon sometimes had nightmares, but this time it was very different than usual.

"Mmph... B-baby?" His voice made you open your sleepy eyes, did you wake him up?

No... He's breathing very calmly. You doubt he's awake.

He tries to hold onto you tighter and tries again, "Babe..." His voice sounds thick and hoarse from his time asleep, and you hesitantly decide to answer him. "Yeah?"

"I love youuu..." He mutters, that made you smile. "I looove you sooooo muuuch." It was funny in a way, his voice was muffled by his bulging cheek.

A small but almost imperceptible giggle took over you. "I love you too, Lee."

That interaction filled your heart with warmth, feeling happy that in his dreams he had the courage to tell you that he loved you. But what you didn't believe was that he would spend the next... Thirty minutes babbling about how much he loves you.

Well... You're probably going to wake up with a headache, but certainly that insecurity that he doesn't tell you that he loves you so often disappeared.

a/n: well, i'm not that sure about this one BUT i like to post silly little things =] i wasn't sure what to say to justify leon saying i love you to reader while he's sleeping LOL sorry about that

i had four exams this week and somehow i managed to approve them so my little treat is writing ;p

i just know this man TALKS embarrassing corny things while he sleeps and i just want him to nap in my arms 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

thanks 4 everyone for reading this, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🤲🏻🤲🏻🤲🏻 that's all for this time, bye-bye

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy fic #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy re4r #fluff #leon fluff #fluff fic #leon scott kennedy fluff

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moonlight-shadxw · 17 hours

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Have chthonic God midas,

I'll explain below how he got here based on the sequence of events I have for him, also, it only makes sense after getting ascendant midas to get ascendED midas, right ???

The myth of the Golden Touch is accurate to a certain extent ; asking Dionysus for everything to turn to gold as a reward for his good deed eventually leads him to realize this power was more of a curse than anything else ー food, water and people all turned to gold, Including his daughter.

King Midas would then implore the deity to free him from this curse, who responds to his prayer by telling him that if his hands are dipped in the river of Pactolus, then the effects would be reversed.

And this is where the reality diverged from the Myth :

Midas attempts to save his daughter by dipping her into the river, but instead, as soon as his hands touch the water, the sands, the very essence of the water and anything else around would turn to gold.

Horrified, Midas knows now that he has been tricked by the deity, Who never even intended to help him, so to punish him for his greed.

What Midas doesn't know is that nothing can really stop the curse, aside from being fully blind, because then, if he cannot see the gold, then is it really gold.ᐣ

Midas is then helped by his servants to limit the effects of the Golden Touch, while his disdain for Gods grows immensely.

After his death, Midas is reincarnated several generations later as the current Midas, who has enough control over his Golden Touch. The same would apply to his eyes, if he were to be legally blind, then the effects of the curse would be nullified, something he doesn't know.

Hence why, even with a cut off hand, the curse would endure through the prosthetic as long as he can touch something.

He retains the same personality, distrustful, haughty, disdainful, and especially towards those who have habits and traits similar to Dionysus.

Considering Dionysus' punishment, his powers stop working when he stops seeing. That means, he doesn't need to lose sight permanently for it to stop working, but losing sight temporarily is also effective.

As in, his powers don't work when he's asleep. They won't either if he's unconscious. They won't if he's blindfolded. As long as he CANNOT see / visualize the gold, then he cannot use his powers. Midas possesses another curse, that of immortality, not in the sense that he cannot die, but that he simply cannot stay dead. It comes from the fact he touched the waters of the river of Pactolus.

Aside from not being able to wash away the gold on his hands, his own touch fused with the properties of the river since, meaning that ever since that incident, his curses both kept feeding off of one another and growing simultaneously.

If he had less control over what he touches, then with each death, he'd grow more capable of controlling it.

If he had to die, then either he'd naturally be reborn after a specific set of time ( 150 years ), or he can be revived, or finally return from the dead with sheer power alone.

That means that with each iteration of himself, his power of adaptation grows, his memories from each death stack up and his knowledge and understanding extend.

But with each iteration, he will have to learn new things about himself. There is always going to be something different about himself that he needs to figure out and remediate to. Eventually, it means that Midas' curse pushed his status farther than mere human, and yet not enough to be a God ー at this point, he could've reached the status of Demi-God.

The major downside of this curse is the fact that he will eternally live between life and death, With no real way to allow his soul any rest ; coupled with the golden touch, these two can either work together or fight against one another.

Hence why, for the moment, the gold coming from his hands is ` immortal ` too, meaning that it will not stop even if a limb were To be lost. After getting killed by Thorne once more as a demi-god, his soul was split between mortal and divine.

Hades wished to put an end to the fate meddling that Thorne engaged in by messing with timelines, and by ascending Midas to divinity, it would put an end To this loop and fate troubling.

Midas would then become the God of riches, greed, prosperity and failure, with a cat as symbolic animal.

Additionally, depending on how angry he gets, the things he touch can turn to molten gold.

His own blood is scorching hot, and gold.

#Midas #Midas fanart #Fortnite midas #Fortnite fanart #Midas fortnite fanart

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olderthannetfic · 1 day

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I think Tumblr ate my Ask since I’ve seen other Asks I sent in after it were already posted.

Genuine advice question: when does a fan fiction stop being a fan fiction and become an Original Work?

I am right now writing a story that is set in the universe of an established franchise and is about the children of some of the protagonists. But they’re all OCs and the fic takes place years after canon. The bulk of the story takes place in a location that has been established in canon but the franchise hasn’t used since the early 2000s

Should I tag this story with the fandom tag or as an Original Work?

Or, should I just not post it at all? I’m a veteran of FFN 2002-4 era when people who wrote OC centered fics were bullied and harassed extensively, I don’t want to go through the same experience now

This is a duplicate, obviously, but to respond to the first part, I sometimes post things right away if tumblr fucks up when I'm trying to get to the 'add to queue' dropdown. I might also post them right away on purpose if I'm interested and want responses faster or if I'd like them to hit at a good hour on a weekend or something.

Right now, I'm waiting for three or four days before going through my inbox, so I do usually scroll back to find the first of 60 or 80 or whatever. But if I'm logging in more often, I'll usually just start with whatever ask I see first, not the earliest one sent. I'll sometimes also scroll up and down a little, looking for ones that are happier or about a different topic to break up something that's getting tedious.

It totally is possible for tumblr to just eat something, but my queue is also days long and not necessarily in order, so it's hard to tell.

And you should tag them with the fandom. Original vs. fic is about intent, not the actual degree of originality in the work.

If you're lifting some ideas from someone else's world building with the intent to make something basically original, it's Original Work. If you're setting out to write a fanfic in a canon world but populated by OCs, that's fic. Yes, even if some OC-haters whine about it.

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 18 hours

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may i request jameson being all lovey dovey and a hopeless romantic over avery hcs?? and avery being shy?

jameson being a hopeless romantic and avery being shy head canons

yesss! averyjamesoon are my fav couple of all time. i hope this is what you were asking for (you may have been asking for two different posts, one featuring hopeless romantic jamie and another one about avery being shy). if this isn't what you wanted, don't hesitate to send me another request. i'd love to do it. i'll do anything for my fav couple of all time. will be shorter than my other posts but oh well (but the head canons themselves are longer). hope you like them<3.

i think the entire fandom would agree when i say that jameson's love language is physical touch. he's definitely the type of person to constantly be touching her or kissing her. avery really loves it, but has never been in a relationship before and doesn't know how to initiate it herself. jamie's always teasing her about it.

avery's the type of person who literally cannot take a compliment from her boyfriend without her heart exploding. i can even see her stuttering when responding to it sometimes when he really catches her off guard with one.

when jamie starts talking about her and their relationship, he cannot stop. they'll be at an interview, when the interviewer asks jameson about his gf and then he starts rambling and gushing over avery. avery would definitely be kicking and hitting him, begging him to stop, but she'd secretly be flattered.

over time, avery starts initiating physical contact and will give him noes kisses and cheek kisses from time to time. every single time, after the kiss, she backs up and looks him in the eye uncertainly thinking she's done smth wrong. meanwhile, jameson is staring at her in awe, and can't help but think he's the lucking guy on earth.

avery at the start of their relationship was too scared to outright compliment him, so she'd subtly say something nice about him whilst insulting him. jameson would always catch on and tease her about it (this usually ends in tickle fights)

jameson sometimes starts telling her about all of the things he wants to do to her (if you know what i mean) and avery just stands there combusting.

jameson is a sucker for ballroom dances and would organize an entire ball just for the sake of being able to dance with avery. avery would pretend to hate it but would secretly love it. (@catapparently)

jameson loves recreating scenes from romantic movies with avery. avery finds it cliche but also really sweet and can't help but fall in love with him a little bit more every single time.

avery loves getting back rubs but doesn't like asking for things from people, but jamie knows all of this and organizes little spa dates every week.

at the beginning of their relationship, avery was really hesitant to tell jamie she loved him bc she thought he didn't reciprocate (don't ask me why). she used to whisper it in his ear whilst playing with his hair at night when she thought he was asleep (he wasn't. he was dying on the inside)

avery is really horrible with prolonged eye contact, so, whenever they have a really important conversation, she looks down. jamie always tilts her head up with his hand under her chin and tells her to keep looking at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. avery always blushes when he does this.

when avery gets nervous but doesn't want to say it out loud, she grabs his hand and holds onto it really tight. jamie knows this and also knows that she loves it when he strokes his thumb over her skin so he makes sure to do that too. avery says thanks by leaning her head on his shoulder.

avery being referred to as a game by jamie in the first two books really affected her (this is canon, there are lines in the books that prove this). she doesn't talk about it with him bc she doesn't want him to think she doesn't appreciate him. jamie knows he messed up and was always trying to make it up to her by leaving notes in her pencil case (when they were still in school) or hiding them all over her room (he'd tell her he loves her, write down cheesy pick up lines, write down his favorite things about her). he'd also organize really elaborate dates (three course meals in pools, see-through helicopter rides, etc).

jamie loves her so much (obviously) and always wants to make sure she's comfortable. he's always running around trying to make sure she has towels in the bathroom, hair ties (cause he knows she doesn't like having her hair in her eyes), etc. avery thanks him at night (but doesn't specify why, she just says thank you) in bed which encourages jamie to do it even more.

when they're in bed at night, jamie starts talking about their future wedding and honeymoon (basically his dreams) whilst avery just lies there, in his arms, quietly sobbing (happy tears) bc of how loved she feels.

because of the amount of comments avery gets on her appearance (we know she gets hate, and it was mentioned in tbh i believe), she sometimes doesn't like looking at herself in the mirror because it reminds her of them (and believes them but she'd never admit that to herself or jameson). jamie knows this and will creep up behind her at night when she's getting ready for bed, put his arms around her, and whisper in her ear all of his favorite things about her appearance (literally everything, and he says this) (or just his favorite things about her in general). avery just stands there smiling (or crying sometimes (jamie makes sure to kiss her tears away))

jamie makes playlist for their dates (or just playlists filled with songs that remind him about avery). at night, in bed, he shows her his playlists and talks to her about the songs and why they remind him of her (basically tons of love songs. he gushes about his favorite things about her and stuff). avery listens to those playlists when she's feeling insecure or unworthy (basically when she's feeling shitty) cause they cheer her up and remind her that she will always have jameson by her side. sometimes she'll be listening to them at work, and people will think she's having a heat stroke or something bc she's blushing profusely.

jamie is literally obsessed with telling her he loves her. like just saying i love you. they'll be lying in bed at night, and he'll start saying those three words over and over again 1. cause he likes to remind her he loves her and 2. like i said he loves saying those words. avery always begs him to stop (half-heartedly) bc it makes her shy and vulnerable, but jamie just kisses her to shut her up and keeps saying it.

it's currently 3am in the morning for me as i'm writing this. this might not be good (i will be making a part 2 someday though bc i loved making these so much). i apologize if anything doesn't make sense, i didn't proof read this (as always).

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #grayson hawthorne #averyjameson #avery x jameson

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collecting-dustbunnies · 2 days

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Obey Me Nightbringer Theory Time: MC is an Unreliable Narrator

What if the MC knows more than they are letting on? What if the MC's motives is different from ours, as the player?

(Disclaimer: Long post. Different from my meme content. Contains spoilers for all of NB and OG content. Also I may wake up tomorrow and cringe at this, but hopefully you can enjoy my delirium?)

OG = Obey Me Original

NB = Obey Me Nightbringer

It all starts from the beginning

We can see traces of this from when we first launch the game, with MC's first text messages with Nightbringer. And I'm not talking about the messages that we saw when the game first launched, but the new re-write of those same messages. You can compare the differences between the old texts and the new texts on @impish-ivy 's post here (thank you for allowing me to discuss it here). I'll include some of their screenshots as reference.

Let's take a look at the new version of the text exchange. Now, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what Nightbringer is talking about. But Sheep-chan apparently does! If MC answers that they think they understand what he's talking about, they get to keep their memories when they get sent to the past. But if MC says they don't have a clue? The game assumes that they have lost their memories. This seems like a strong indicator that MC knows something that we, as the player, do not know about Nightbringer and their powers. This exchange is very different from how things played out in the original version of these text messages where:

Yes I know them. Really well, actually = MC has their memories.

I don't know who they are = MC has no memories.

[The official reason for this change was "to make the game more enjoyable for new players", but I don't buy that. In the original version, it was quite clear which option you had to pick to signal to the game that you have not played OG. While in this version, it's way more convoluted, since the player will have no idea what Nightbringer is actually talking about. It just causes people who have played OG to accidentally signal to the game that they haven't. Why change the text to be even more confusing, when the original version would have sufficed for newer players?]

Now let's follow this line of thought for a moment. Nightbringer states that the MC has received "a second chance at a fated meeting", and MC has to answer that they think they know what this means if they want to keep their memories during the time jump. If they don't, then Nightbringer assumes that they have lost their memories.

Which leads me to believe that Sheep-chan is not entirely an innocent victim who was unwittingly sent to the past. Instead, they were a willing participant of the time jump. Maybe they have some understanding on how Nightbringer's powers worked and wanted to meet the brothers again. Maybe they too were curious to see what their ideal world looked like. With this idea in mind, let's re-evaluate everything MC has said and done in NB.

MC's interactions with Nightbringer (and Michael, I guess)

After the intro, the next time MC directly interacts with Nightbringer is in Lesson 12 of NB, where they get sent into a coma after breaking the rules at the Fountain of Knowledge. Let's look at what he says here for a moment.

The first thing Nightbringer asks MC is what they think of this world, a rather unusual thing to ask someone who is kinda sorta dying. If MC says they want to go home, Nightbringer expresses some confusion as to whether the brothers of this world are not to MC's liking. It makes sense for him to be confused here, since he sent MC to this timeline under the impression that they would like this world (or at least, view this world as a stepping stone to reach their "place of joy").

(Then again, if MC responds that they are enjoying this world, Nightbringer is even more perplexed that they can remain upbeat in such a precarious situation. But knowing what canon Sheep-chan is like, why is this surprising?)

After this, he explains that his motive is to lead MC to a place that will "bring [them] joy like no other". This fits what he had said in the beginning of the game:

"Shall I take you someplace you will be happy? Somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other."

"A world you desire, and where you will be desired."

- Nightbringer, intro text message

He then goes on to emphasise that both he and MC want the same thing. He comments on how MC has done a splendid job getting closer to Lucifer and his brothers. This is where I feel that Nightbringer was never MC's enemy, as both parties have similar goals, and they need each other to some extent. MC needed Nightbringer and other mysterious forces to set the gears in motion so that MC can become closer to the brothers, forge pacts with them, and reach their "ideal" world. Nightbringer wants to bring MC to this place of happiness, and he sees MC forming pacts with the brothers as the way to get there. In this case, Nightbringer is a co-conspirator here.

This idea then gets brought up again when MC sees Michael in Lesson 13, when he saves MC from their coma. He warns MC that the Celestial Realm would be less willing to tolerate their behaviour if they ally themselves with Nightbringer (which, is exactly what MC has been doing so far). Is Michael afraid of the MC trying to forge their ideal world together with Nightbringer? Or is he afraid that MC is getting tricked by Nightbringer?

This also explains why Nightbringer never interacted with MC again after this incident. Everything MC had done in NB was what Nightbringer had wanted as well. Nightbringer didn't need to intervene because everything was going according to his plan.

Comparison of MC's actions in OG vs NB

When we consider the fact that MC may have actually wanted to go back to the past and meet the brothers again, a lot of their actions (and even their inaction) makes more sense. When Solomon tells them they need to make the pacts to get back to their own time, MC is in no rush to obtain these pacts. In fact, they don't even think about making those pacts until Season 2 when they are faced with an ultimatum to make those pacts, which is, they have to forge the pacts before MC and Solomon lose their connection to their original time. This is different from the usual behaviour in OG, where they were extremely motivated to make a pact with every brother from Beelzebub -> Asmo -> Satan and employed help from multiple people to acheive this goal. They even took the initiative to ask Lucifer for a pact on the day before they left the Devildom, when they had no reason to do so.

This is very different from how Season 2 of NB played out, as MC simply waited around until each brother went beserk (in the case of Mammon, Asmo and Satan) before they even thought about proposing the pact. In Lucifer's case, even though MC (after much prompting) spoke up about needing to go back to their home, it was Mephistopheles advocating for MC that ultimately convinced Lucifer to let MC go. And later on, MC remained on the sidelines and let the other characters take the reign in rescuing Lucifer from Cocytus. Compared to the original game, where MC takes on a more active role in forming their pacts, MC is more passive in Nightbringer, simply biding their time until the opportunity to make a pact falls onto their lap. Is this how somebody who desperately misses their home and wants to go back ASAP would act?

Regardless of how you choose to play the MC as, they always express some hesitation in leaving behind the brothers of the past. No matter how many times you try to make the MC say they want to go back home ASAP, Lucifer will gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss MC into admitting that they do not want to leave. Simeon in Lesson 35 of NB even reaffirms this by saying "I'm sure you really feel that way deep down inside. Even if you don't realise it". Bruh.

But why? MC should know that their home is with the boys of the present timeline. Why has the MC never considered the repercussions of staying in a timeline that they don't belong in? Or even considered how Solomon could lose his powers for good because of MC's hesitance? Why had MC never once stopped to consider how the demon brothers they had left behind would feel about their absence? This shouldn't even be a dilemma.

Unless... this past was the place they wanted to end up in the first place. That, like Nightbringer had said, this place will bring them joy like no other.

As an aside: One of the few insights we get about Sheep-chan's inner thoughts is the nightmare they have about the brothers trapping them in the attic and preventing them from leaving (in Lesson 33 of NB). Which has horrific implications, considering the attic still did not exist at this point of time. Was Belphegor's imprisonment and the Lesson 16 incident so traumatic for MC that the attic is the place that they associate with imprisonment?

Note how some of the brothers keep suggesting that THIS is the outcome that the MC really wants. But this also provides another possible reason for the MC's hesitation to leave: The fear of how the brothers' of the past would react. The fear of brothers turning against them, despite everything MC had done to protect them. Speaking of what MC had done to protect them...

MC forging their place in the past Devildom

MC hasn't taken active measures to forge their pacts to return home, but you know what they have shown to be more interested in? Asserting their place in the Devildom of the past, and spending time with the past version of the brothers.

The best example of this is Lesson 11 of NB, where the MC hesitates to promise to Solomon to protect humanity, but with no hesitation, promises to take care of the brothers even with full knowledge that they would be punished for doing this. If we remember Lesson 35 of OG where MC, Solomon and the demon brothers went to the reaper's cave to break Beel's curse, Solomon was surprised that the demon brothers' punishments for breaking the reaper's rules (turning into a Little D) were so mild. It was implied that without MC unconsciously protecting them with their magic, the brothers could have died or been wiped out from existence upon breaking the rules.

A weakened MC of the past who retains their memories of this incident in the reaper's cave would know just how severe the backlash would be if they make promises in the cave. But this did not stop them from doing so anyway. This shows where MC's allegiance truly lies: Not with humanity, not with any mysterious forces at play, but with the demon brothers. It's hard to tell what the MC hopes to get out of making such a dangerous promise.

The most optimistic take is that they felt forced to prove their loyalty to Lucifer and his family by taking such a drastic action. After all, MC is used to sacrificing their life for the people they love. Throwing themselves at death is nothing new to them.

The most cynical take would be that this bold decision was actually a calculated move by the MC to assert their importance and their role in the demon lords' lives. To show just how bad things can get without them. To guilt-trip Lucifer and Belphegor who had doubted the MC's allegiance, so that they never doubt MC again.

Regardless of their motivation, the MC's actions showed that they are inseparable from Lucifer's family, and this incident served to further cement the MC's importance to them. This allowed MC to strengthen their bonds with the brothers once again. So that they can create a world they desire, and they will be desired.

Putting this all together

Obey Me: Nightbringer paints the image of a MC being ripped from their home and being thrust into an unfamiliar world. Yet, the MC's actions in NB tell a different story. It shows us that Nightbringer is turning the gears so that MC can go to a place surrounded by people that they love, and who will love them no matter what. Because it wouldn't be enough if the characters of the present were hopelessly in love with them, but the characters of the past should also feel the same way. Even if that is a world the MC does not belong in.

All I'm saying is, Sheep-chan is sus as heck.

#i told myself i would stop making theory posts for om #because what actually happens ends up being way more boring #but this brainrot has been consuming me for weeks #obviously i don't think the game will ever go this route #but it's fun to think about regardless #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me analysis #obey me theory #LONG #db rambles #btw this is the only time you'll see me typing metformin's name correctly

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 days

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tagged by several people over the course of the last few weeks since the last time I posted one of these including @imogenkol @kyber-infinitygems and @thesingularityseries last week. Thank you all and tagging you back! cod tag list opt in/out

I am still stuck in my cod-verse with Rory, so sorry everyone!

This week I've got a snippet from a much later chapter in "Evening of Score" which is Rory's POV of the first MW game, and this is a lead up to the interrogation with the Butcher in Russia (for reference). AKA proof of them both being assholes and thus more reason they ended up together. Rory knows he's a dick and still chooses to be with him, this is due to her shitty taste in men

warnings for mentions of: Price manipulation and intimidation tactics and general morally grey war criminal behavior, kidnapping mention, and a toxic dynamic of two people in love who are both kind of shit human beings, swearing, and smoking

“When were you going to tell me about the wife and child?” [Rory] mentioned the fact quietly, out of earshot, as she lit her cigarette, the dancing light of the flickering flame reflecting in her eyes as she stared at him. “Were you waiting until I couldn't back out? Was this another classic Captain Price manipulation tactic?”

He didn't move, didn't falter, not even for an instant. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw set tight, Price was a foreboding presence that seemed to tower over her. “You know we have to do things like this, Rory.” His voice was kept low, flat. No flares of emotion in his tone. This was John at his most terrifying, ruthless and uncompromising, expecting his soldiers to either fall in line and step up to follow his lead or prove themselves unable to keep pace.

“I'm aware.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a drag of her cigarette. “Doesn't make me feel like any less of a fucking hypocrite though.”

“How – it's not your call, is it?”

“I can turn my conscience off for a lot, haven't quite gotten there with women and children yet, John.” She hid the mild tremor in her hand by slipping her lighter into her jacket pocket. “Not after the things I've seen,” she muttered under her breath.

His eyes glanced down to where her hand receded and she knew he had caught on, but he didn't show it, his stare more steely than usual as it cut through her frailty. “Don't have to explain the reasoning to you though, do I?” He tipped his head to the side, jaw lifting. Dominant and imposing. Challenge in his tone. That cold, unflinching stare from powder blue eyes that could twinkle with so much mischievous intent when they were in private.

“No.” Blunt. Direct. The way they spoke to each other when on a mission belied all the love they had for one another when free from the strict collar of rank and duty.

“That's a good girl.”

“Don't give me any of that patronizing bullshit right now,” she snarled, jutting her fingers that held the cigarette between them toward him, punctuating her words with a stabbing motion with her hand.

His eyes didn't narrow, there was no furrowing of his brow, he stayed still. There wasn’t even a clench of his jaw or a tic of the vein in his forehead. The stone mask was all he was presenting to anyone at the current moment. “You'll do it though, won't you?” He husked, holding her gaze captive, testing her limits.

“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “Always do. Wouldn't be the first interrogation you've had me take the lead on, now would it? Even if our methods differ.”

He chuckled darkly, the cold gleam of the merciless predator that resided inside him rose to the surface for just a split second. “Didn't pack the plastic or the brass knuckles this time, love.”

“Ha!” She responded, acerbic as always. Her gaze flickering over to the young sergeant Price had taken under his wing, before returning to the man before her. “You sure you want the Sergeant taking part? Might be a little green, don't you think?”

“He'll do fine.”

“As long as he does what you say…?” Her large hazel eyes lifted from the spot on the floor she was silently glaring at to look up at him. Normally warm and gleaming with life, her stare was now darkened by what was expected of her, the dark spots on her conscience visible in the depths. There were a lot of shitty things she’d been asked to do in her career, it made it worse coming from the man she shared a home and bed with.

Price nodded, not replying with words. There's always more to what he didn't say than the words that were spoken. His body language never conveyed much either when he was like this, the eyes hardly giving anything away. But there was the underlying threat of the fact that John knew he was a rarity in this world, the things he did weren’t always easily digestible by others’ standards, he carried skeletons in a closet that went deep into dark recesses, and with that came the fact that there was a heavy gravitational pull that emitted from him, one that drew others into his world and either tainted them with his way of thinking or they were spat out and deemed unwilling, too weak to enter his orbit. It was the worst part of him, and one she tried her best to ignore despite falling prey to it herself. Two years with a man like that had irrevocably changed her, she was the lamb to the slaughter no more.

“Right.” She tossed her cigarette to the floor, stomping her boot down on it, crushing it into the cement below. “Well, this ought to be interesting.” “Sure you can handle it?” The little added push, pressing her buttons and playing the right notes to get her to fall into step with him in this monstrous dance. She snapped back to looking at him, her glare easily conveyed how much she wished he’d piss off right about now. “Do you have any reason to doubt?” Rory had no fear of offering her own challenge towards him, she was one of the few who ever would.

He turned his head a little as if to shake it, his lips pursing slightly. “Never.” Reaching up, his calloused fingers wrapped in leather gloves brushed the wisps of smoke curling around her face away, and he gently tugged on the strand of hair clinging to her cheek, pushing it behind her ear. “Impossible to doubt ya, my girl.”

“Fucking hell,” Rory scoffed. “You are such a piece of work sometimes.” Shaking her head and shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, her eyes lifted to the ceiling with a heavy sigh. “Lead me to him, John.”

Tagging : @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042

@voidika @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate

@josephseedismyfather @statichvm @clicheantagonist @marivenah

@aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @hookhearted

@cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain

@cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa

#wip wednesday #fic: evening of score #ship: you are the sword to my shield #oc: rory sinclair #john price

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loptrcoptr · 2 days

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It’s come to my attention that a lot of people in the BES fandom are new to fandom-culture in general (or lack there of; we denizens of tumblr are residents of a cesspool) and don’t know a lot of general old school online manners, laid down in Days of Yore by earlier generations. So let me bring up a crucial one that is generally being ignored on tumblr in the BES-sphere: ship tagging!

I am not doing this to condescend, I genuinely want to be helpful and to help us all enjoy our enclosure and our enrichment in said enclosure together. I think a lot of grief going around the blue eye samurai world on social media could be solved if everyone remembered one good old cardinal rule of fandom bullshit:

you do not put ship wank in a ship’s general tag.

let me say that one more time in different terms:

If you want to rant about how much you hate a ship, general practice has always been, on tumblr anyway, not to do so in the safe space created for said ship.

once again, lemme be very clear; I don’t give one rat’s ass or 800 collective asses of rats what you ship, why you ship it, whether you ship anything at all, why you hate x y z, etc. That’s great, that’s what fandom is for! Enjoy yourself! The issue is that there’s all this infighting fuckery going on that is exhausting to even watch from the sidelines, and I think there’s a lot of confusion as to why anyone is fighting over any of this shit at all as it is 2024 and ship wars are 2011 superwholock garbage that we all collectively agreed to jettison into space by 2015, ya feel me?

(and if you like to start shit and throw hands then obv this post isn’t for you as you know what you’re doing, this is for the folks who don’t know and are confused as to why they can’t rant without blowback)

So if you’ve gotten on tumblr recently and noticed your anti-ship post blowing up for some reason or other and asked yourself “Jesus why are these assholes from that ship always coming for me?? They’re such dicks!!” ask yourself:

did I tag them in my post?

Because when you tag a ship in a post about how much you hate it, it’s not a beacon that says “Hear Ye Hear Ye, Interacteth Not Ye Fuckos From Ship I Hate, This Is About How Much I Hate Your Ship”. For that to be the case, you would need old-school anti-ship tag nomenclature, like this: #anti-[shipname] or #[shipname] wank. Those tags would communicate your intent to rant, which is your sacred fandom right to enjoy doing! It is not, however, your sacred fandom right to enjoy doing it in the wrong space, that’s what’s happening here. A post that tags a ship with its normal tag, but whose content is anti/wank content about said ship, sends the signal: “ayyooo, who would like to debate this with me?”

So, does all that make sense? If you tag your post analyzing all the reasons why you think a ship sucks with #ship, you are encouraging everyone who ships that ship to interact with your post. It’s like rocking up to somebody’s house, ringing the doorbell, and saying “I hate your fugly ass piece of shit house, asshole” and then getting irritated when the homeowner responds with “who the fuck are you, get off my lawn?!”

#anti-[shipname], #[shipname] hate (forgot about that one, also useful), and #[shipname] wank do two very useful things:

1) They let other people who want to gleefully rant with you know that you’re on the level and they give like minded individuals a chance to follow those tags so you can have more rant sessions together, and

2) they minimize likelihood of involvement by the shippers you’re ranting about, who can block the tag, while keeping the ship’s normal tag open for the people who enjoy it

tldr; *swordfather voice* it would be bitchin if people could stop bitchin in the wrong places so that we can all coexist like adults here, touch some grass, and chill. Tag ship hate #anti-[shipname], #[shipname] wank, or #[shipname]-hate and keep it out of the general pro-ship tags :)

if your response to this is “don’t tell me what to do, cuntwaffle” or “I have an unhealthy relationship with the idea of shipping and think no one should have a safe environment to enjoy media except me and people I agree with so I will continue to poison the waters” then ok, cool beans, keep on chooglin’; but know that everytime you walk into a tea party you weren’t invited to and yell I HATE YOUR FUCKING TEA YOUR TEA SUCKS ASS blowback is a bit inevitable

#PSA for anybody who needs to hear it #blue eye samurai #bes netflix #netflix blue eye samurai #am I probably gonna get some nasty comments for this? sure whatever but if at least one person who is #tired of fighting in their text posts and inbox sees this and realizes they can tag things in a way #that lets them avoid a fight then hey my job is done #and if most of yall are just starting shit to start shit then ok just thought I’d check in #because there’s a lot of complaining about people defending the stuff they like in this fandom #and if you’re needling people I’m not sure why you think they won’t pushback #no needling no fighting. everybody be chill. good god yall. it’s a show for adults can we be adults please.#shipwars are for children this is embarrassing why’d so many people in this fandom drink gallons of haterade

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escapedaudios · 5 hours

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I don't know when I'm actually gonna finally make this so I want to talk about Tusk and Chain, a traditional (third person) urban fantasy audio drama I've had in mind for a long time. It's told from the shifting perspective of an aging football star at the end of his drawn-out athletic career, and his estranged daughter. I'm just gonna give the synopsis so far. It's got big Bojack Horseman vibes. It takes place in an urban fantasy world with technology levels resembling the mid-1990s with a dash of magic thrown in. The entire soundtrack would be Fleetwood Mac songs, with characters named after Fleetwood Mac tracks and lyrics.

The story starts with Tusk, an orc, preparing to play his last season of football. While on the field, his theme song plays (Tusk) as he triumphantly carries the ball toward the end zone, only to suffer a life-changing injury on the way. He speaks to his manager, and makes a deal with him to play as soon as he recovers, counting on his Orcish endurance to come through. While gone, his younger rival takes his place a quarterback until he's ready to return. He exchanges harsh words with his rival, and leaves, arriving late to his own 40th birthday. While there, he zones out and realizes the people he's surrounded himself with are sycophants and practical strangers that didn't even notice he wasn't at his own birthday party. After he blows out his candles, a friend of his asks how it feels to be 40. He answers, "like nothing".

The perspective changes to his daughter, Chain, a teenage Orc raised by her divorced mother (Rhiannon) and human step-father (Mick) preparing to move on from high school to college. She's often asked about her famous father, but doesn't have anything to say about him. She gets an unexpected visit from Tusk, looking to re-connect with her before she goes off to college. They share some polite but shallow conversation, but things go sour when Tusk offers to make up for lost time by giving her a lavish 18th birthday, prompting her to emotionally unload on him when she reminds him that her 18th birthday already passed. She dismisses him, and he responds by calling her ungrateful, after all the money he put down for her to go to a prestigious private university.

She tells him she wanted a father, not a college fund, and they sit in silence. He apologizes and says he'd do things differently if he could go back, but that he can't. He tells her he ruined his relationship with her mother because he wanted to pursue his dream of being a star athlete, but that he regrets all of it. Chain then asks him why he gave her the name "Chain". Tusk responds by saying it's a traditional Orcish name, chains are sturdy, practical, and strong. She responds saying she always interpreted it another way; "Chains hold you down".

When Tusk returns home, he knocks over his football trophies, grabs a bottle of liquor, and gets belligerently drunk. He drives under the influence to Chain and Rhiannon's house to make a desperate plea with his daughter, but is met alone by Mick, who tells him to go home and that he's making an embarrassment of himself. Tusk responds by going on a racist rant about humans, asking how his ex-wife could downgrade so much after him. Mick threatens to cast a binding spell on Tusk, but before he can Tusk drunkenly stumbles and falls on his injured ankle while pacing around yelling at Mick.

Mick sternly reminds Tusk that he's more of a father to Chain than he ever was, then helps Tusk up and drives him home while Tusk slumps drunken and emotionally defeated in the passenger seat. He tells Tusk that he wont tell the tabloids about his disgraceful outburst if Tusk promises to stay the hell away from his house. Tusk reluctantly agrees, and goes home, passing out drunk on his couch.

The perspective returns to Chain, who's working hard at home on her university entrance exams. While studying, she overhears Mick telling Rhiannon about Tusk, and Chain proposes filing a restraining order against him. Chain intervenes, saying they won't have to take measures that far. Still uncomfortable with Tusk, she tells Mick that she'll talk to her father in private. Mick warns against it, thinking Tusk could be on the verge of going into a violent outburst, but Chain asserts herself as a now-adult 18-year-old woman and says she'll go anyway.

Chain goes through her old belongings, including memories and photos of herself as a young girl with her father. Among her belongings are little note cards she got for her seventh birthday, with promises from her father that he never had time to fulfill. She drives her mother's car to the city's football arena where Tusk is reluctantly training his future replacement. Ashamed to see his daughter, Tusk tries to avoid her until she hands him a faded note card promising "Junk food whenever I want without getting in trouble". She makes a point that a promise is a promise, no matter how old, and he agrees.

The two share an awkward lunch of burgers and fries, and Chain explains that she's here not because she wants to re-connect, claiming she's only there because she's just concerned about his unstable mental state. Tusk tells her he's in a bad state but "fuck it, that's just life". After a pause, Chain brings out the old cards, and they go over all the cards he never fulfilled. He laughs at how juvenile some of the promises are (Tea party with mom and dad, Dress-up day) and remarks that he doesn't really know what her interests are now that she's a senior in high school. She says she never really explored a lot of options and shut her self in, focusing on her studies and using movies and TV as her only indulgence. When he asks what she's majoring in, she says she's planning on majoring in structural engineering, but she picked that as a safe bet over her real dream of majoring in film.

They part ways, and Tusk goes to a shop that sells video recording and film editing equipment. The next day while Chain, Mick, and Rhiannon are gone at work and school, he delivers the equipment at Chain's doorstep with a note saying that just because he regretted following his dreams, she doesn't have to hide from hers. Chain holds the camera, feeling hopeful.

In the following episode, Chain has finished making her first short film with some friends from her high school. She gleefully shows Rhiannon the movie, and Mick walks past, asking how she could afford that video equipment. She tells Mick that it was a gift that Tusk brought over. Mick nods his head, and leaves to another room. Angered that Tusk returned to his house, he makes a phone call to a press associate and offers to tell the story of Tusk's previous drunken outburst, along with security tapes of the incident.

Later on, Chain meets with Tusk at the stadium and asks if he would help with one of her short films. Elated that his daughter is putting the camera to good use, he agrees, feeling optimistic for the first time in the story. His moment of happiness is cut short however, when a teammate of his shows him a tabloid magazine with images of him having his drunken outburst. His rival mocks him, asking him how he thinks that will affect his legacy now, remarking that he wonders if the coach will even let him play at all in his last season after that.

And then.... I don't know! I guess I'll have to finish the story some day.

#escaped audios #audio roleplay #writing #urban fantasy #tusk and chain

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knightprincess · 16 hours

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No Matter What (Crosshair x Reader) - Platonic

Words: 1.3k Warning: Fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort. Synopsis: After settling on Pabu with Clone Force 99, (Y/N) goes on a self-given mission with Crosshair to bring their lost brother home.

After the assault on Mount Tantis and the death of Hemlock, things had been different for Clone Force 99. Echo had refocused his efforts on helping the build Clone Rebellion, taking with him Emerie and some of the clones rescued from the Advanced Science Division, among them Comet. Omega had seamlessly adjusted to life on Pabu once more, happy to be just another kid, growing up peacefully until she was ready to join the fight once more if she did.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair would take care of Jax, Bayrn, Eva, and Sami until they could be returned to their families. Each had decided it was time to retire, to discover who they were outside of being soldiers, and to find out what adventures life had in store for them now. However, they’d always be on call if Echo ever needed them.

(Y/N) on the other hand, would use her skills as a bounty hunter to help provide for the people of Pabu and help clones across the galaxy find their way once they were freed from the empire. Although she loved the peace Pabu offered and the small family unit she had gained with Clone Force 99, she wasn’t ready to settle down completely. Not when she still had questions that needed answering. Not when she still needed to find closure.

“I miss him too,” said Crosshair, picking up Tech’s broken goggles from the dashboard of (Y/N)’s ship. Seconds later, a sigh escaped him, hidden within it, regret and grief. The last time he’d spoken to Tech was on Kamino; once again, they’d gone their separate ways. If only he’d chosen differently. “You have to let him go (Y/N). He wouldn’t want you to hold on like this.”

“I can’t,” whispered (Y/N), stopping what she was doing and allowing Crosshair’s words to sink in. “I have to bring him home, even if I have to say goodbye one last time,” she added, admitting she knew there was a chance Tech was truly gone, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe it, not until she found him. “He never gave up on me when I was lost. Neither of you did. I won't give up on him now until he’s home.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Crosshair, putting the broken goggles back on the dashboard, moving to sleeping racks, and setting another up, if only to make his point clear.

“Omega and the kiddos need you here,” commented (Y/N), attempting to protest. Although she already knew it was pointless. Crosshair was one of the most stubborn people she knew. Once he made up his mind, there was little that could change it.

“Hunter and Wrecker can handle things here until we get back,” declared Crosshair, turning to face (Y/N) before crossing his arms over his chest. “Right now, you need me more,” he added, although he did not admit he’d thought about going out there to look for his brother. Something didn’t sit right with him, leaving Tech out there.

“I’m not going to win, am I?” asked (Y/N), sighing as she walked the length of her ship. Filled with memories of the past, her life as a Jedi Knight that felt like a lifetime ago, and her new life as a bounty hunter and protector.

“Nope,” simply responded Crosshair, “You’re stuck with me this time Shortfire.”

The moment Crosshair entered the cockpit, he pushed the red button, activating the com channel. He spoke to Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega there, informing them of his impromptu decision to join (Y/N) on her journey. Framing it to make sure she had backup and would come home again.

“It wasn’t your fault (Y/N),” said Crosshair when (Y/N) entered the cockpit, following the routine she’d once taught Tech, checking over all the systems. There’s nothing either of us could have done to stop him from using Plan 99.”

“If I was there, I could have stopped him from falling,” admitted (Y/N), finally opening up about the guilt haunting her. When her family needed her most on Eriadu, she was across the galaxy, hiding from her past and the Jedi Hunters that had seemingly appeared overnight.

“You were protecting them. No one could have predicted Saw being on Eriadu, and no one could have predicted Tech sacrificing himself. Blaming ourselves won’t change the past (Y/N). It will only prevent you from finding peace and happiness, whatever that looks like.”

“For what it’s worth, Fortune Cookie, I’m glad you’re coming with me,” admitted (Y/N), bestowing Crosshair with a new nickname, replacing the old one of Snarky Sniper. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“We’re family until the end,” Crosshair replied, pulling (Y/N) into himself and wrapping her in a warm embrace that seemed foreign but familiar to them both. “Where do we start?”

“Where our fight ended,” responded (Y/N) with a shakey voice, recalling when she’d gone to Eriadu, risking everything to follow the monorail track in search of Tech. She’d found the car's wreckage but no sign of Tech. If there was any blood, the rain had long since washed it away; there was no body to be found or any trace that he was even there, just what remained of the car.

“Tantis?” questioned Crosshair, confusion evident in his quiet voice as he took up the co-pilot’s seat.

“Hunter said Hemlock was the one to return Tech’s goggles; there’s got to be some trace, a lead to follow somewhere,” replied (Y/N), a slither of hope present in her otherwise whispered voice. She dared not speak louder in case her fears grew stronger and became her cruel reality.

“Setting course for Tantis,” worded Crosshair as (Y/N) piloted the ship safely away from the small island. As per tradition, the people waved goodbye, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega among them.

“Take good care of them, Gonky,” spoke Omega through her com, receiving a simple gonk! in confirmation.

“We’ll see when you come home,” added Hunter, his voice filled with acceptance as if he knew the day would come when (Y/N) went in search of answers. As if he knew one day she’d go on the self-given mission to bring Tech home. “Stay safe out there.”

“You got it, Havoc #1,” replied (Y/N).

“I’ll make sure she comes home in one piece,” declared Crosshair, resting the stump of his wrist on his lap, grabbing onto the handle beneath his seat as he prepared for the rough climb out of Pabu’s atmosphere, “Our family’s been through enough. None of us can handle another loss.”

“We’re not losing anyone this time. We’re bringing our lost brother home,” replied (Y/N), determination alight in her voice. One way or another, the small family unit was going to be reunited again, no matter how long it took.

“Remind me again,” started Crosshair, fiddling with Tech’s broken goggles; now they’d left Pabu’s atmosphere. A smirk appeared across his lips as he remembered Tech’s hobby of recording everything—even the little things. “What you told us before we went into our first battle.”

“No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’d take a bullet for you if it comes to that. In the bitter end, we’re gonna be the last one standing.”

The holoclip appeared before the two, glowing blue and fuzzy. Of course, Tech had recorded it. They were so young back then, naive to what would happen when the war ended, unprepared for the cruel galaxy they lived in.

“Looks like Tech knew you were going to ask,” commented (Y/N); the smallest of grins appeared across her lips as she launched them into hyperspace. “Do you think Omega knows it?” she asked, curious if the boys would have shared the almost promise with Omega, the brave little girl growing up far too quickly, growing up to be a fighter no less—the best of all of them.

“She knows. Hunter would have made sure of it,” replied Crosshair, hope flooding his voice despite the uncertainty they both faced. “No matter what, Shortfire, I’ve got your back until the end.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

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