#it is only a very recent development that i am even keeping up with a comic at all and its still just one... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was named as a finalist in Lead411’s New York City Hot 125 in Aug 2010.

#it is only a very recent development that i am even keeping up with a comic at all and its still just one...

xavieryaa · 11 months

Text

The Reddit Blackout, #196, And Being New to Tumblr

okay i've seen a lot of people in the past ~24 hours or so confused by everything going on with Reddit & Tumblr from both sides - people new to tumblr who don't know how to use it, and tumblr users who don't know what's going on with reddit and why many of its users have joined up here i know this isn't really related to my blog but fun fact about me: i was up until recently a very active reddit user and even mod a subreddit, but I've also been on tumblr for about 3 years now on different accounts, so I think I can see pretty well from both sides of this and explain what's going on this post will be split in 2 sections: what happened with reddit (and what #196 means), and a guide for new users

1. What The Hell Is Going On With Reddit?

The thing that's caused all this ruckus is a major change to Reddit's API, which is what Reddit provides to people so they can pull directly from Reddit to make third-party apps or tools.

The change is that Reddit is changing its previously free API to be paid. Which on its own kinda sucks for developers, but it's not unexpected. They need to make money somehow, right?

The problem is that the API pricing is WAY TOO FUCKING EXPENSIVE. The developer of the most popular 3rd party Reddit app, Apollo, says it will cost him $20 million a year to continue running the app as normal.

Essentially, this pricing forces almost everything third-party to shut down, which causes 3 major problems:

Third-party apps cannot keep running, which sucks for normal users because Reddit's official app is awful. It's slow, its video player is a thing of nightmares, it doesn't have many useful features third-party developers have made.

It sucks even more for visually impaired users because they can't use the official Reddit app at all. Reddit's official app does not work with iOS's native text-to-speech function. Third party apps, on the other hand, often do. So Reddit is forcing blind users away.

Third-party moderator tools cannot keep running, which sucks for moderators because many rely on these tools to properly moderate their subreddits. And moderators are often necessary, because without them subreddits get banned and hate speech and even CSA can often run rampant.

So you see why this change is bad.

Reddit users were PISSED.

So over the past week and a half or so, they have been working on organizing a site-wide blackout. The majority of the most active subreddits have now gone private. Some are only doing it for 48 hours, others (such as r/196) are doing it indefinitely.

That's why you can't access most of Reddit right now, and that's why many users have come here.

You're probably still wondering, though - what is this #196?

Well, as you may guess, it's connected to that subreddit r/196 I just mentioned. r/196 is a subreddit which only has one rule: every time you visit, you must post before you leave.

That's it, that's the subreddit.

The thing about r/196 that set it apart from most other subreddits - and what lends the subreddit's users perfectly to Tumblr - is that it was dominated by queer and leftist users.

So now they've come here and set up shop in #196 and r/196 so they can continue their merry little shitposting.

There's a ton of lore related to r/196, actually, but this is already a long tumblr post and quite frankly I cannot be bothered to write about it at the moment.

2. I'm Here From Reddit, What Now?

Hello there, random new user. As a double-citizen of Reddit and Tumblr, let me show you around this place.

First off, there are some other people who are better at explaining that I am who have made some really helpful things. Watch this Strange Aeons video as a guide to Tumblr culture and functionality and read this post which directly compares Reddit and Tumblr.

Assuming you've done that, here's some additional advice of my own:

Do you miss sorting subreddits by top of all time/the year/the month? Well, you can do something very similar with tags! If you go to a tag at the top of the screen you can select top, and then at the dropdown that says "all time" you can select different time periods! Even 6 months, which Reddit hasn't ever had.

Tumblr has a lot of cool customization features! Even outside your icon/banner/bio, you can change you blog colors and on desktop you can have an html theme (which has its own thriving community here). That customization is part of what sets Tumblr apart from everywhere else - I think you'll enjoy playing with it.

Notes will probably confuse you at first. Unlike the different numbers for upvotes and comments, notes combines the total number of likes, reblogs, and replies into the same number.

Outside of organizing your own blog, when making your own posts tags are what help other people find your post. Use them! But don't abuse them, because then people will just block you.

There are three ways of people finding your post: if someone follows you, if someone follows the tag(s) assigned to your post, and if someone is just scrolling through the tag(s) assigned to your post (and also the secret 4th way no one uses, which is finding it on the trending page, but even if people did use it no one will find your post initially that way)

tumblr is no longer The Discourse Website. And unlike what Reddit wants you to believe for some reason, it is very much alive still. Most of the people seeking fights have moved to Twitter (though some have also moved back here again). You will not get any brownie points for being a dipshit like you do on some subreddits.

So there, welcome to the hellsite (affectionate), you'll pick up on all the in-jokes eventually, for now just try not to be a nuisance and soon enough this'll be your new internet home.

#reddit #reddit blackout #reddit migration #196 #r/196 #reddit refugee #new to tumblr #long post #text post #xavi.txt

2K notes · View notes

shalotttower · 5 months

Text

The Devil Is a Gentleman

Title: The Devil Is a Gentleman

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night with a headache.

Word count: 800+

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

Notes: Yandere Chrollo, captive Reader, my head is murdering me so I wanted some soft Chrollo stuff.

You shift under the covers and for a moment it seems that maybe this state of half sleep, half consciousness is here to stay. Just for a bit, until you slide all the way back into a dream, where the dull throb in your skull doesn't matter. No such luck; angry blurred dots start swarming behind your eyelids and the longer you lie there, the more evident it becomes that sleep isn't coming.

3 AM.

The red numbers from the alarm clock glow way too intensely in the dark. It's quiet. Chrollo's breath tickles your shoulder. No matter the position, he somehow manages to do this every single time - wrap himself around you like it's no tomorrow, with tangled legs and chest pressed to your back. Sometimes it's annoying, sometimes sickly comforting, but not now. There's a faint feeling of nausea in your throat, the whole world is spinning and swaying from side to side even though you're lying still.

Sharing a bed is a recent development. Previously the floor was your choice, but two weeks ago Chrollo simply carried your sleeping body to the mattress. You woke up trapped between him and soft pillows, then the pattern repeated two times, four, six, until it became clear that this arrangement was going to stick.

Carefully, inch by inch, you wiggle out of his embrace. An awful taste coats your tongue, clings to the palate - not something you expected upon waking, but not unusual either.

The kitchen light is bright and unpleasant. It stabs right through your eyes without remorse, making you promptly settle for a dimmer one above the stove. One cabinet after another, the fridge - no pills. Of course, why would Chrollo keep anything like that lying around? You probably have to wake him up for medicine, but it's honestly the least tempting scenario. You don't want to talk to Chrollo, don't want to ask him for help, don't want him to see you in pain or sick.

So you brew a cup of coffee and hope that the nausea plaguing your throat will eventually subside. What you should know by now, however, is that Chrollo doesn't need more than you breathing wrong in order to wake up.

"Dear?"

His voice has a slight raspy edge to it.

You glance over your shoulder and see his figure standing at the door frame. The light from the hallway throws a shadow cutout across the floor, and it's the only time beside after shower you ever see him all mussed hair, loose pants and, of course, no shirt. You suspect its absence has some relation to the attempts at wooing you which range from subtle to not so subtle these days.

You make a non-committal sound.

"It's 3 AM," Chrollo says and steps into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"

His fingers brush a strand of hair away from your neck, linger there, feather-light and warm. You take a small sip of coffee.

The pulsing in your skull feels like someone decided to tap a small hammer against your brain. Well, he's up, so might as well do something.

"Headache," you say and press your forehead to the cool marble of the counter. It feels nice for a short moment.

Chrollo doesn't respond. He does place a hand on your nape though, thumb drawing circles, massaging the tension there. It's so peculiar. His tenderness leaves marks wherever it goes - light trails on your skin, hands on your forearms - a constant reminder that in this current reality he's everywhere and everything.

'Stop,' you want to say, but instead a quiet "mm" comes out. Maybe you're too tired to muster up any spite. He takes the cup out of your hand and sets it aside with a quiet clink.

"How bad?"

"Bad. Don't get too close," you warn. "I feel like throwing up."

He does anyway, and wraps an arm around your waist. Chrollo knows very well that you'd rather jump into boiling oil than lean on him out of your own volition, maybe that's why he uses every given opportunity to hold you.

"You should have woken me up," his words are muffled, lips pressed against your temple. Chrollo smells of shampoo, sheets and himself. "I'll get you something from the pharmacy later, but for now you should try and sleep, dear."

Then you're up in the air, carried out of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" you frown, fingers gripping the muscles of his arm.

He hums something akin to a simple melody, the devil. "Taking you back to bed, where you can keep being miserable with more comfort."

This time you don't protest; the pillow has cooled down, and as soon as you lower your head on top of it, it feels like bliss. The bathroom door opens and closes, followed by quiet splashes of water. There's a pause before the mattress dips on your right.

Cold cloth covers your forehead.

"You should have woken me up," he repeats. "Next time do it, dear."

"Mm," is all you manage, when the bedside lamp clicks off, and then there're covers lifting, fingers rubbing your temples and a low hum somewhere above you.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #hunter x hunter fanfic #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer

459 notes · View notes

artbyblastweave · 7 months

Text

I think about Star Wars a lot more than I post about Star Wars, and I've had some free time recently to type up some thoughts on Episode 7 that've been swirling around in my head for a couple of years. There were a few ideas and plot beats, and moments of apparent self-examination in Episode 7 which I thought were fairly compelling, even though they ultimately paid no dividends:

First was Finn’s character concept. “Star Wars as experienced from the perspective of a Stormtrooper undergoing a crisis of faith” is a rich hook; humanizing and giving a face to what's basically the platonic implementation of the faceless mook. Unfortunately, the potency of the arc was undercut by the pre-existing textual ambiguity as to what stormtroopers actually are. Star Wars extended canon has settled on the idea that each trilogy features an entirely novel cohort of white-clad mooks, each with a fundamentally different underlying dynamic. The clones and the First-Order forces are different flavors of slave army; in contrast, the stormtroopers are more frequently portrayed in the expanded universe as military careerists, stormtrooper being a thing you work up to rather than a gig for a fresh conscript. A slave-soldier who defects is a very different character from a military careerist who defects, and they invite different analysis. There's a bait-and-switch going on here, in that Finn gestures in the direction of the familiar OT stormtroopers but can't comment on or examine them because he's actually part of a novel dynamic invented for the new movies. And there's one final nail in the coffin here, signaled by the number of times I've had to invoke the expanded universe so far. When Finn debuted, the racists were of course, legion, but I also ran into a number of people who were sincerely confused as to why they'd recast Temuera Morrison. Going off the seven films that existed at the time, it wasn't unreasonable to read the prequel trilogy as an origin story for where the OT stormtroopers came from. Going only off the nine films that exist now, it still isn't unreasonable! It's muddied from so many different directions by their failure to establish the ground rules in the mainline films before they tried to put on subversive airs about it. I am still irritated by this.

Next up is how Han Solo was written. I actually liked the tack they took with him quite a bit. Because initially, right, his role in the movie is just to be Han Solo. He's back, and he hasn't changed! He's still kicking ass and taking names, he's still the lovable scoundrel you knew and loved from your childhood- and the principle cast members react to his presence with the same reverence the film's trying to invoke in the audience, they've grown up hearing the same stories about him. Except that episode 7, at least, is also very aware of the fact that if Han Solo is still recognizably the same guy thirty years on, it indicates that things have gone totally off the rails for him. We find out that the lovable rogue routine is the result of him backsliding, his happy ending blown up by massive personal tragedy rooted in communicative failures and (implicitly) his parental shortcomings. It feels deliberately in conversation with the nostalgic impulse driving the entire film- here's your childhood hero back just as you remember, here's what that stagnation costs. And it also feels like it's in conversation with what was a fairly common strain of Han Solo Take- the idea that Ep. 6 cuts off at a very convenient point, and that Han and Leia's fly-by-night wartime relationship wouldn't survive the rigors of domesticity. Obviously, that's not the only direction you can take with the character; the old EU basically threaded the needle of keeping Han recognizable without rolling back his character development gains. But it felt like they were actually committing to a direction, a direction that was aware of the space, and not a reflexively deferential and flattering one, which at the time I appreciated! The problem, of course, is that for it to really land, you need to have a really, really strong idea of what actually went down-of what Han's specific shortcomings and failures were. And given the game of ping-pong they proceeded to play with Kylo Ren's characterization, this turned out to be. Less than doable.

Kylo Ren is the third thing about Episode 7 that I liked. His character concept is basically an extended admission by the filmmakers that there's no way to top Vader as an antagonist. Instead, they lean into the opposite direction- they make him underwhelming on purpose. Someone who's chasing Vader's legacy in the same way any post-OT Star Wars villain is going to, pursuing Vader's aesthetic and the associated power without really understanding or undergoing the convoluted web of suffering and dysfunction that produced Vader. It's framed as a genuine twist that there's nothing particularly wrong with his face under that helmet. Whatever it takes to be Vader, he doesn't have it, and he knows that he doesn't have it, and the pursuit of it drives him to greater and greater acts of cartoonish villainy. The failure to one-up Vader is offloaded to the character instead of the writers, and it was genuinely interesting to watch. For one movie. The problem, of course, is that if the entire character archetype is "Vader, but less compelling," you can't try to give the bastard Vader's exact character arc. You can't retroactively bolt on a Vader-tier tragic backstory when you spent a whole movie signaling that whatever happened to him wasn't as compelling as what happened to Vader. You can't milk his angst for two more movies when it's the kind of angst on display in "Rocking the Suburbs" by Ben Folds!

There's a level on which I feel like Moff Gideon was a semi-successful implementation of Vader-Wannabe concept; he's the same kind of middling operator courting the Vader Aesthetic for clout, but he's doing it in the context of the imperial warlord era, where there's a lot of practical power available to anyone who can paint themselves to the Imperial Remnants as a plausible successor to Vader. Hand in Hand with this obvious politicking, Gideon is loathsome, which relieves the writers of the burden of having to plausibly redeem the guy; he's doing exactly what he needs to do and there'll never be a mandate to expand him beyond what his characterization can support. Unfortunately, the calculated and cynical nature of how he's emulating Vader precludes the immaturity and hero-worship elements on display with Kylo, which is unfortunate; the sincerity on display in Kylo's pursuit of authenticity is an important part of why he worked, to the extent that he worked at all, and it'd be worth unpacking in a better trilogy. As he stands Kylo is a clever idea, and that's all he is- he lacks the scaffolding to go from merely clever to actively good.

#and these are my unsolicited star wars thoughts #thoughts #meta #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #kylo ren #moff gideon #han solo #star wars finn #star wars meta #sw sequels #the force awakens #analysis

778 notes · View notes

dolldefiler · 7 days

Note

Hey :)

I just wanted to say truly how incredible your writing is. I find myself refreshing on tumblr desperately looking for a new story from you whilst I mindlessly rub myself away to all the dirty things on here because it just works like no other if I’m honest..

Also wanted to say thank you for seeming like a genuine person on top of all the sex-stuff, a lot of people abuse the space with this sorta stuff so it’s refreshing to see a double edged sword type thing I suppose.

Now I guess onto the reason I gathered the courage to ask (even though I’m still on anonymous…) I was wondering if you’d be up for letting me share my fantasy and if it sparked any inspo, if you’d be open to doing a request whenever you got the free time?

One of my biggest fantasies in the world is being kidnapped, raped and gaslighted, with heavy heavy tones of misogyny. Idk something about a sexually fuelled patriarchal society really does something to me :0 but unfortunately it’s kind of hard to communicate that desire to anyone at risk of it being taken completely the wrong way (oh the joys of having these kinks) and so I fear I’ll never really get to live out any variation of this fantasy with someone I trust

I just imagine being taken one day, because I’m just a girl and it’s a man’s right to take me if they choose. He takes me back to whatever secluded hole he’s got to keep me in, and it’s brutal and harsh at first - tied, bruised, etc etc. Then as the days, weeks, months go by I begin to develop Stockholm syndrome or I’m just plain old gaslighted into thinking this is all women are made for. Maybe he recorded me saying degrading things about myself in the first few days, which I said out of fear but you play them back for me and convince me that I meant them and you never asked me to say those things, it must just be truly who I am. Maybe he’d reward me when I gagged on his golf with the most simple thing like a stroke of my hair while he brutally fucked my face, but the small sign of affection (even when being used so aggressively) would be the gentle touch that I had been craving in the months he had kept me locked away. Besides the first time he raped me (so he could hold my pleasure during it as a tool against me), he would edge me from the very start, breaking me, making me crave the pleasure against everything screaming in my body saying not to. Taunting me by saying if I could cum just one more time, he’d let me go.. but of course he’d never let me. Teasing me by saying if I do as I’m told he’ll think about letting me get extra close to the edge that day, because at this point being allowed that would be the closest I would ever get. By the end of it my rewards would no longer benefit me, I’d be thankful when he said I could cockwarm him whilst he worked, or if he said I could be spend hours and hours worshipping his cock with my mouth, even when my jaw began to hurt. He’d only fuck me ass unless he wanted to edge me and get me close, or to breed me full of cum. If I ever took a misstep, like missing a single drop of cum after he came, I’d be punished. I’d be thankful to serve him, I’d learn to speak to him as my superior and all my pleasure would come from serving him. I could be completely rewritten and by the end of it he could let me go with no worry, and I’d be his forever..

ANYWAYS… ahem. I think I may have got carried away.

Even if you don’t write anything like this, honestly it was kind of fun just typing it out.

Other than that, I hope you are doing good!

From a very horny anon (who maybe recently has maybe weirdly started subconsciously picturing some imagined version you in this fantasy)

-🍒

Aww, this is such a cute message to receive (and as ever with these asks, I apologise for taking a century to respond).

I would love to steal some girl away from her home, snatching her up like she's property to be claimed. Snatching it up, like it's property to be claimed. She'd struggle at first, screaming and crying, violently thrashing against her ropes and threatening to call the police. What a silly little sex doll. The police wouldn't care about her. They'd probably stolen away their own little fleshlights.

I'd beat her of course. Stupid fucking rapetoys need it sometimes. They need to understand that they're nothing until I give them a purpose. I'd lock her in a dark room with no clock, no water, not a single sound to accompany her but the sounds of soft sobbing and heavy breathing. She'd mark the passing of days from my sharp footsteps as I'd come down to feed her. Beat her. Abuse her.

I'd speak to her sometimes, whispering degradation into her ears. Taking off her gag to encourage to degrade herself for me, if she wanted food. The only human contact she'd know would be intensely degrading. Every vile word of degradation she'd whisper about herself would earn her a pat on the head or kiss on the forehead. I'd reward her for breaking.

I would record every trembling word of hate she'd say about herself and rape her to the sounds of it. I'd spread apart her cunt on my cock and pound away at her, recording even that, raping her endlessly to our homemade porn. To our rape videos. She'd watch her own face become stained with tears. She'd hear the nasty things she'd hear about herself. She'd lose her mind. Did she truly want this? Did she really hate herself?

I'd reassure her that this was normal. That it's okay to hate yourself. That all she needed was me. I'd strap a vibrator against her clit and drill into her ass, jerking off inside her to the sounds of her intense degradation, to the her loud, screaming in those rape videos. I'd teach her to love the feeling. Then I'd leave her again. I wouldn't speak to her for days, silently feeding her. She'd have to choose between eternal silence or... something that made her feel alive. Something that made her feel like a woman. Something like a pathetic fucking rapemutt.

I'd choke her out, squeezing her tighter and telling her that I'd stop if she only just told me to. I'd stop if she degraded herself. I'd stop it if she just said anything. But my hand would stop her. I'd watch her become unconscious and limp every time, and wake her up to my cock raping her ass violently and my palm slapping her sharply. I'd only use her cunt to reward her. To train her into loving my cock stirring up her insides in a way that didn't leave her screaming.

I'd rewrite her so thoroughly she wouldn't even be able to consider disobeying me. The police might stop burying their cocks into their own fleshlights and knock on my door. They might question her. They'd get nothing. She'd defend me and tell them she ran away with me. She'd fervently tell them how I'd saved her from her old life. How I'd helped her. They'd take one last look at her and leave my house. Perhaps I'd breed her as a reward.

#rapekink #r@pe fantasy #degradation k1nk #degrading k1nk #rough kink #r@pe kink #humiliation kink #r@pe k!nk #rapedoll #rapetoy #cnc kidnapping #kidnap fantasy #gaslighting kink #manipulation kink #bd/sm breeding

287 notes · View notes

teatreeoill · 5 months

Text

|| Flustered (Geto Suguru X Reader) ||

in which reader has a big crush on Geto (don't we all?), just kind of me tapping into the funny post-credits vibes of jjk. notes: I even kept the small headlines I made for each part because it felt cute, might delete later.

w/c: 1.1 k

screenshot credits to user yutamayo.

The part where Geto Suguru likes seeing you flustered.

You were sure Geto Suguru hadn't the slightest idea of what he was doing. Because if he did, it would make him a devil.

He'd always sit patiently waiting for the end of class before coming up to you, just to place a large hand on your shoulder while you were still sitting in your seat, letting it linger there for far too long as he spoke.

"Be careful, yeah?" He heard passingly from Shoko about the mission you were about to take on with one of the older sorcerers.

"Always am." You smile, thinking that if he doesn't move his hand off of your shoulder soon, the warmth of his fingertips might burn through the fabric of your uniform.

"That's not what Shoko says," He gets down on his knees to face you and tilts his head lightly, a dark strand of hair grazing the side of his nose. It would be impolite to not look straight at him now - the eye contact he kept so easily made the blush creep to your cheeks. His hand moves to rest on your thigh. There's no chance in hell he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling okay? Your face looks red, you shouldn't go if you feel sick." He says.

"I'm - fine, I just -" Your chair scrapes the floor as you get up abruptly, "I don't want to keep Mei Mei waiting."

Did someone tell him that I have a crush on him? You thought while stumping down the hall, the only one who knows is Shoko, and there's no chance she'd do that. Damn it.

The part where you learn that if you ever ask for something of Mei Mei, be very specific.

It doesn't help to wipe the sweat. It just mixes with dirt and blood that covered you from head to toe, leaving your vision blurred and your moves sloppy. Mei Mei has it all under control - as she usually does, with her battleaxe swinging elegantly through numerous curses each instant, leaving their severed parts to rest on the dirty linoleum floors, but it doesn't mean she'd let you off easy.

"You should at least try to focus, or you wouldn't live long enough to have any chance of getting together with Geto."

huh?

"I'm sorry. I'll focus." you mutter shamefully.

The mission ends almost instantaneously when Mei Mei finds the curse responsible for the recent killings, her blows unwavering even at the horrid sight. You knew you weren't at your usual level on this mission, but Mei Mei's words have shifted your focus completely.

The car ride was silent except for the sound of your uniform's fabric brushing over the car seat every time your leg bounced restlessly, thoughts running back and forth through your mind.

"Mei-Mei, How'd you know that -"

She didn't even wait for your sentence to finish; "Gojo paid me to send a raven to pry on yours and Shoko's conversations."

"Oh," fuck, "wait, shouldn't it be a secret?"

"He paid me to snoop," a smile grazed her lips, "not to keep a secret."

The part where Gojo Satoru faces imminent death.

"I'll kill you, Satoru!" You shout, but Gojo only likes it more. He runs around the class pretending that all the things you're throwing at his direction will actually hurt him. He hides his tall figure poorly behind desks, giggling every time another part of school property passes his head by a few inches.

"And end a bloodline just like that?" He teases.

Shoko stands silently in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. She puts a cigarette in her mouth, ready to turn away from the class and leave you to deal with Gojo in any way that you see fit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Geto approaching the classroom, oblivious to the new developments.

"Ieri - " He tries to say something, but she just slowly shakes her head "No".

"Wouldn't go in there if I were you." Shoko closes the door behind her, muffling the conundrum of threats and laughter coming out of the room.

In the hall, Gojo's mocking words could still be heard through loud thuds of heavy objects hitting the floor, "D'you really wanna' kill your boyfriends best friend?"

The part where Geto Suguru is so, so sorry.

Geto felt the guilt rush over him now that you knew that he had flustered you very much deliberately. You've ignored him for almost a week now, which by any means would be considered a feat, seeing that you've spent hours together in classes and practice almost every day. And even when he came to apologize, befitting a Jujutsu sorcerer, you stood before him in the hallway with an unholy amount of unwavering pride.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, especially when I knew that you have a crush on me." He had stated the obvious, but still somehow managed to lie. He really wasn't sorry - his heart fluttered everytime he saw your face turn crimson under his touch.

"Had." You corrected.

"Had?"

"Yeah, had a crush on you."

"Oh, so you don't anymore?"

"No." You lied through your teeth, but you were rather convinced that if you'd just keep focusing on the anger you felt, the feeling will blow over eventually anyway.

"That's understandable," He says, taking a small step closer to you, just to test the waters. When you didn't move, he raised his arm slowly, pressing the palm of his hand to the side of your face, watching your body involuntarily eliciting the same response he longed for. On the tips of his fingers he clearly felt your jaw tense up slightly, and the heat gathering quickly in your cheeks, "But I just can't have that happen. You look so cute like this, you know?"

It was futile to resist his kiss, his whole body felt like it belonged to be pressed right against yours. Your pride melted against his tongue, his lips only stopping when he had to draw a quick breath. By the time his hand was entangled in your hair, it was too late to try and regain the last shreds of dignity, and so you opted to wrap your arms around him to press your bodies even closer.

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #getou X reader #getou X you #getou suguru x reader #jjk X reader #jujutsu kaisen X reader #geto suguru x y/n

316 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for slapping my mother in law?

I (27F) am married to my husband Jay (26M) and we recently had our first child Lily.

Well the pregnancy was a very very difficult one. I was throwing up every day for over six months, suffered long bouts of insomnia, developed gestational diabetes, standing up too fast made me incredibly dizzy, my entire body just constantly hurt, Lily kicked me so hard I legit had tears in my eyes (which combined with full body pain was...not pleasant) and to top it all off Lily weighed ELEVEN pounds and I tore really really badly.

Yeah...ow.

I love my daughter to death but never again. Ever.

Anyways after that literal hell of a pregnancy, I've been more or less bedbound for several weeks now while healing from that entire ordeal. Which means Jay has been taking care of pretty much everything, keeping the house clean, making food, taking care of me and Lily, etc. Its a lot I know and I wish I could do more to help but Jay has been insisting that I rest and recover and that he's got this. He's been handling everything like an absolute champ. Honestly if I didnt have him I dont know how I would be doing anything.

Well this morning Jay's parents came to visit and meet their granddaughter. So I was moved to the living room so I could introduce them to Lily and socialize a bit while Jay cooked lunch.

Now Jay's parents are very traditional. They believe that men make the money and that its the woman's job to take care of the house, the cooking, and the children.

You can probably see where this is going.

I introduce Mother in law to Lily and we get to talking. (Father in law went outside to go smoke)

Thats when mother in law asks why Jay is cooking. More importantly why Im NOT cooking. I tell her I physically cant even stand UP without help so how am I supposed to cook.

She only scoffed saying that I was just making excuses. I am very used to her bullshit by now so I just roll my eyes.

Then Lily started crying because she needed a diaper change. Mother in law tells me to go change her diaper. Again I cant even stand up by myself, much less get up to change a diaper.

I call Jay and he happily comes to get our daughter. Mother in law starts yelling, telling Jay no that I should do it because its my job. She grabs Lily and shoves her back into my arms and tells me to get up and go do it.

Jay, my wonderful angel, tried to tell her that I physically couldnt move for weeks and to mind her own damn business.

She then started yelling even more saying that I was making my husband do my job for me, calling me lazy and a slut (What that has anything to do with this? I have no idea) she went off on a complete tangent about how it was a woman's job to take care of the home and the children, that SHE managed just fine and she had five small children, that I was completely emasculating Jay, that I was a disgrace, etc.

She just kept going and going while not letting me and Jay even get a word in. Until eventually she said that my daughter will probably grow up to be a whore like I am.

I think it was a mix of pure exhaustion and hormones because somehow I managed to stand up for a moment and slap her across the face before immediately falling back on the couch.

Jay looked shocked, Mother in law looked livid. (Father in law was just watching from the doorway, equally as shocked.)

Mother in law started full on screaming, calling me every single name in the book until father in law physically dragged her out of the house by her arm.

Now hours later my phone has been blowing up with messages from my brothers and sister in laws, telling me that I was an asshole and that I had no excuse for hitting their mother.

Hell even my friends think I was in the wrong for hitting her (completely ignoring how she was yelling, calling me horrible names, in front of a newborn baby no less.)

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

352 notes · View notes

pansear-doodles · 2 months

Text

update on the ludeo thingy; in regards to the rw discord server

"Hey Pansear, i would like to inform you regarding the Rain World recent problem.

The server staff would be very opened to know more about ludeo as far as I am aware via courier bot, even tho they may unable to be in direct contact with Akupara nor it's developer, but it may help in the littlest way possible

As far as I am received from their respond, they are not aware of Ludeo being associated with Israel/zionist company and they don't support it whatsoever. They also suggest to keep awareness on other social medias until further updates regarding it

I can send the full respond iyw, tho it's really long, so this is a tldr

Sorry for drop a dm but i just want to let you know /lh"

"Hi there [redacted], This is RW Server Staff. We would like to inform you that we as a community server do not have direct affiliation with Akupara nor a say in their decisions. Obviously the issue of ludeo being a zionist company is one that's important and how staff will approach the issue will be discussed internally; no one on our team is in support of zionism, and none of us want to be associated with publishers who support it. We only have so much power in this matter - to restate once more, we don't directly affect the development of the game or have direct lines of communication with Akupara as a whole. We can't allow discussions like this in the server as its a place members come to to relax and distract themselves from personal or real-world issues; most people just want to talk about their experiences with the game or other things they're up to etc. We strongly recommend raising awareness on any other platforms you can or in satellite servers, and we treat any other sensitive/political issue the same way. Courier is the best way to inform staff about situations like this so we can come to a decision; ludeo being zionist wasn't something we were aware of beforehand and we're willing to listen through Courier. We'll be discussing how to approach this and what resources we can give out later on when more staff are available.

I cencored my name for anonymity, but this is the whole respond i got from them"

#rain world #rainworld #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour

225 notes · View notes

zer0pm · 11 months

Text

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

#luis serra #resident evil 4 #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra imagine #re4 luis #re4 remake #resident evil x reader #it was a long time coming #but I finally finished this piece #I do want to continue off of this #two people rekindling a love they thought they put behind them #I’m a sucker for stuff like that #not proofread #resident evil imagines #zer0pm imagine #my writing #was rushing too so will go back to fix and improve some bits #but hope you enjoy!

447 notes · View notes

tpwk-formula1 · 4 days

Text

Please send in your requests!!

Lando Norris x Leclerc Little Sister!reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N have managed to keep their relationship under wraps until one fateful night after the 2024 Miami GP

Warnings: Light swearing

WC: 1.2k

I’m getting ready in my hotel to go celebrate my boyfriend and his first Formule 1 win. I couldn’t be more excited for Lando but knowing how Lando gets when he is drunk has me stressing that he will tell everyone on the Grid about our relationship.

Lando and I have been together for the past few months and have managed to keep the relationship a secret from the rest of the Grid which had not been an easy task given the fact that I work for Ferrari and Charles is my older brother.

I’m just about ready when I hear a light knock at the door. When I open the door I am greeted with a very excited Lando. He lightly stumbles into my room making it clear he had pregramed with some of the guys.

“I’m so proud of you my love,” I tell Lando making an even wider smile break out on his face. He pulls me in for a hug finally being able to celebrate together.

“Thank you! All I wanted to do was run to you the second I passed the finish line,” Lando tells me excitedly, making it clear that he is still on the adrenaline high from the race that has been finished for hours now.

We spend about fifteen minutes together before Lando heads out to meet some of the guys at the club to start the celebrations. I head out thirty minutes after him once I am finished getting ready.

Once I make it into the club I am spotted by Carlos almost instantly pulling me in for a quick hug before pulling away and dragging me towards the VIP booth that a good portion of the grid has taken over.

Almost instantly Lando’s drunken state spots me and instantly makes his way over to pull me in for a hug.

“You did it Lando! You won your first race in the F1!” I tell him excitedly while still hugging him. He mumbles a quick thank you before pulling away and making his way back to Max knowing if he stood there any longer he would do something that would result in more than half the grid finding out about the secret relationship.

As the night continues and the drinks keep coming, Lando has not slowed down for a second.

I watch from a distance with my older brother while we chat about the amazing race today. I’m always proud of Ferrari when at least one of them makes podium but I can’t help but be even more proud of Lando for finally getting his win. As the drinks continue to flow through my body it becomes increasingly more difficult to keep the secret hidden away.

Towards the end of the night there’s only a few of us still partying away. As I am talking with Max, Lando comes over before pulling me in for a hug and a kiss. The alcohol making both of our rational thinking go out the window. I don’t even register what we are doing until I hear a gasp from Max and a quiet what the fuck in my native language.

The second I hear my older brother’s voice I quickly pull away from Lando before looking around to find my older brother ready to blow a fuse.

“It’s a one time thing!” I quickly huff out trying to cover Lando and I’s ass. But in the drunken state Lando was having none of my lies.

“Babe, why are you lyingggg,” Lando slurs out making my face grow red with embarrassment of being caught.

“Care to explain?” Charles asks clearing sobbing up from the sight in front of him.

“We were gonna tell you eventually,” I tell him back making it clear that this was not so recent development.

“How long?” Is all Charles asks while looking between Lando and I. “Since the new year’s party,” I tell him quietly knowing how upset he was going to be when he realizes I had been lying to him the entire season.

Lando still not picking up on the energy shift of the night whines out, “I wanna go back to the hotel with you baby.”

“You’re not going anywhere with my sister tonight,” Charles calls out which has Max moving towards Lando to help him back to his hotel knowing that the night has come to a crashing end.

“We’ll talk about everything in the morning,” Charles tells me before walking me back to my hotel and making sure I get to my room safely.

“I’m not mad about the relationship. I’m mad you felt like you had to hide it from me,” Charles tells me before placing a quick kiss on the forehead and closing my door as he makes his way down the hall to his respective room.

With the alcohol finally catching up with me sleep takes over. When I wake up in the morning I have a raging headache from the hangover that only worsens when I remember how the night ended.

When I check my phone I am greeted with a dozen messages from different members of the grid as well as my brothers. I chose to ignore all of them other than the one message from Lando asking me what happened last night and why my brother was taking him for coffee.

I quickly dial his number hoping he wasn’t currently with my brother. When he answered me I could tell he was not feeling his best in the moment.

“What happened? I don’t remember much from last night,” Lando tells me sheepishly.

“Well, we aren’t so much of a secret anymore,” I tell him softly which just makes him groan.

“Oh…” Is all Lando says which has me replying back with a soft “yeah.”

We talk a couple more minutes before we both hang up and I start to get ready for the day as well as pack up all of my stuff knowing we will be traveling back home tonight. After an hour goes by a soft knock rings out through my room. When I open the door I am greeted by Charles and Lando. I open the door all the way allowing both of them to step in and make themselves comfortable.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charles asks with clear hurt laced in his voice.

“I thought you would be upset and I didn’t want to ruin your chance of World Champion this year with it,” I tell him and it is clear to both of the men in the room that me hearing it out loud made me realize how silly it sounded.

“Your twin is mad. I dont know if you’ve talked to him yet,” Charles tells me, mentioning my twin Arthur which makes me cringe a little knowing I had intentionally ignored his message this morning.

“I’ll call him later,” I reply back becoming anxious just thinking about it.

“I would never be upset with who you choose to date. Especially someone like Lando. I always knew there would be a good chance you would end up with someone on the grid once you accepted your job, kinda always assumed it would be the other Ferrari driver though,” Charles says making me laugh and slightlly cringe thinking about Carlos and I together.

“I’m sorry we lied,” I tell him.

“You hurt her and we will have problems,” Charles said directly looking at Lando. Lando just nods with a smile on his face knowing he would never destroy his chance with the Lelcerc girl.

“At least my sister is finally dating a winner,” Charles says with a light laugh falling off his lips as he exits my hotel room.

Two days later…

Instagram Post

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc and 19,683 others

Y/NLelcerc: I guess it's time to give my love his flowers! I couldn't be more proud of you and what you did in Miami this past weekend <3

Comments have been disabled

#formula 1 #formula 1 imagines #F1 #F1 imagines #lando norris #lando norris imagines #lando x reader imagine #lando x leclerc imagine #formula 1 one shot #F1 lando norris #charles leclerc #max verstappen

107 notes · View notes

storm-driver · 16 days

Text

hi, i have feelings about cartoon nostalgia and the audience perception of them 20 years on

this is gonna read hyper-specific, but bear with me

i refuse to credit butch hartman for the way danny phantom came out during it's first two seasons, at least outside of the initial pitch and the idea of the protagonist having white hair. i know the majority of enthusiasts for this show are more than aware of hartman's antics at this point. these anctics, i won't get into. other people are far more suited to explain that stuff vs me, a random guy on the internet. but there's very specific topics that i don't often see get brought up in detail, like the production and staff behind this show.

i'll get into it below the cut so as not to clutter your dashboard. but if you're not familiar with the actual production history of danny phantom, this might be interesting to read.

it's common knowledge these days that stephen silver is the one who developed the design for danny based on hartman's original rough sketches. the similarity between each drawing is apparent, but you can see clear as day which design was gonna be more apt for animation and overall audience allure back in 2003.

he also did character designs for hartman's other poster child, Fairly Oddparents. the trend is similar, though far from a huge concern. character design overhauls happen all the time in media production. designs might be too complicated for animation, so they get stripped down. or maybe things aren't complex enough and more nuance needs to be added. that's normal stuff, and i am not dunking on hartman for not nailing danny's design right out the gate. i'm pointing this out in case you've ever looked at butch hartman's recent work and wondered "how are these done by the same artist?"

the answer is they weren't. hartman had to adapt to stephen silver's conceptual designs in order to work on the storyboards. take from that what you will.

onto the actual writing.

butch barely wrote a single episode for this show's first two seasons.

steve marmel helped write at least 28 episodes of the original two seasons, with writers like sib ventress and marty isenberg bringing a good amount of episodes to the table, as well.

butch hartman is credited primarily for directing and storyboarding this show. the episode pitch and writing was by other people almost entirely. the ONLY episodes in the first two seasons that hartman is credited with having written are mystery meat, one of a kind and splitting images. and he's credited with co-writing these episodes alongside steve marmel and mark banker. ie, he did not write these episodes on his own. and allegedly, butch hartman had a tendency to be credited as a writer for an episode, even if he only wrote a few lines of dialogue. again, take from that what you will.

past that in season 3, he wrote infinite realms, torrent of terror, forever phantom, urban jungle, and ofc, phantom planet. which a lot of people know, these episodes in particular weren't the most enjoyable, nor was the overall direction of them very good.

a director's job is to make sure that the overall tone, feel, and message of the show is being kept consistent with intent. that means meeting with producers, who are the ones managing the, y'know, producing part of the whole project. it may sound like the director is the one heading the project if it's their job to keep things in check. which, i will not deny, hartman must've put in a good deal of work to make the show come out as well as it did.

but pile that with some of the off things per episode. the mean-spirited way that characters tend to be taught lessons, the voice direction getting a drastic change in season 3 (you can hear it explicitly with david kaufman suddenly going for higher pitches instead of the usual one he's done so far). there's really only one consistent motif in the entire show's OST. which isn't a bash against the music producer. it's a concern that the director of the show never asked him to change things up, and ONLY stuck to this one motif.

to briefly touch on the mean-spirited thing. there's multiple instances in the show where danny or someone else is seen fighting back against whatever has given them trouble, or they're taking matters into their own hands to ensure they won't be hurt ahead of time. and repeatedly, the show likes to kick these characters back down for trying to stand up. it's a trend in all of butch hartman's shows, and it's treated more like comedy than anything else. it's up to audience perception on how to view it. but for me personally, it starts to feel like an overused gag and turns into something more malevolent after seeing it overused almost every single episode.

okay besides that, i actually wanna look at specific examples of episodes that steve marmel wrote for. again, this is the guy who's more or less responsible for the show's serialization.

the complete list of episodes is as follows:

Mystery Meat, Parental Bonding, One of a Kind, Attack of the Killer Garage Sale, Splitting Images, What You Want, Bitter Reunions, Prisoners of Love, My Brother's Keeper, Shades of Gray, Fanning the Flames, Teacher of the Year, Fright Night, 13(Thirteen), Public Enemies, Memory Blank, Reign Storm, The Ultimate Enemy, The Fright Before Christmas, Secret Weapons, Flirting with Disaster, Micro Management , Kindred Spirits, and Reality Trip.

multiple episodes listed here are from the first season, which a lot of people consider the show's best. and of the handful listed for season 2, he wrote all of the hour-long specials.

i would be here for hours talking about how steve marmel tackles all of these characters and concepts significantly better than hartman does in season 3. but that's a topic best praised elsewhere. point is, if you watched any of these episodes and thought to yourself "wow, that was actually kinda clever," steve marmel is more or less the guy responsible.

butch hartman was in charge of direction, but that does not give him exclusive credit for every single line of dialogue or plot beat. there could be a LOT we just don't know because people on production staff don't want to comment. but the writing consistency taking a dive off the board by season 3, which is the same season that steve marmel departed from the project due to conflicting direction in the story? you might deduce that butch hartman was not the prized writer and artist behind this otherwise beloved cartoon.

to dredge up an easier-to-tackle target, season 3.

my criticisms are 18-year old echoes at this point, you've heard them all. from otherwise pointless episodes that don't develop the characters or world, to completely out-of-touch writing (looking at you, phantom planet) that juxtaposes the characters with everything we've been told about them so far. it became a slog of a season that didn't have any build-up to it's finale. the occasional gem of an episode like frightmare helped in some aspects. or the promise for something later with d-stabilized. but it all gets swept under the rug thanks to a rushed finale with poor build-up, bad writing direction for the characters, and most importantly, an unlasting effect on the viewer. (or a negative lasting effect, which is arguably worse)

for a season that knew it was on its last leg before inevitably needing to give up, there's seldom few episodes dedicated to advancing an overall narrative, and thus give a slimmer of hope for a satisfying conclusion. instead, the show goes all in with villain-of-the-week stories, and even the returning villains are hardly taken seriously or given more to do besides just being there.

of course, we know the reason steve marmel had left the project was because hartman wanted the show not to taken a more story-focused drive. it almost starts to feel like spite that kept the show so horribly grounded, letting it become stagnant before eventually being forgettable.

all this is in service of letting people know, it really wasn't butch hartman that made the show, not alone. death of the author and all that nonsense aside, he pitched the concept. and it takes a lot of love and dedication to make a concept something you can physically see and adore. don't let him swath in all the credit. recognize the others who made the work you can still enjoy.

#stormy weather #danny phantom #hey guess what i found in my drafts!!!#this is an INCREDIBLY old post #this is dating back to like almost 2016!!!#anyways i rewrote most of it because the og was a lil rough lol #but all of these feelings remain the same to this day #it's kinda wack #a younger me knew what he was feeling #and an older me knows how to say it

91 notes · View notes

valyrfia · 7 months

Note

I am VERY skeptical about the RBR Charles thing but they (see: Charles, RBR personell of all kinds) keep being SO WEIRD AND SUSPICIOUS about it

Yep yep yep. I go through cycles of being completely convinced and then calling myself delusional, but the fact remains that Max changed his tune on being teammates with Charles recently, Charles keeps talking about Max in interviews praising BOTH his performance and the car, Christian Horner is posting Max and Charles on Instagram as is the RBR account. I genuinely believe Red Bull are at LEAST trying to seriously poach him.

I'm still unsure as to whether they're working towards 2024 or 2025 (as Red Bull have proven with the recent talks with Lando, they're more than happy to buy out someone's contract), but I am leaning more towards 2025, and I believe that Charles at RBR is a real, serious possibility in 2025. Let me explain why.

First, Checo still has a contract through 2024 and while Red Bull aren't always great with honouring contracts, I think the recent popularity and love they've witnessed first-hand for Checo in Texas and Mexico might change their mind on letting him go early. Ultimately, Red Bull Racing is marketing for Red Bull, and Checo obviously brings in sales in North America, and them mistreating Checo might lead to a sales dip in that region. This is why I think, despite the media frenzy, RBR are highly unlikely to drop Checo for 2024. There is no way that RBR is renewing Checo's contract, but at least he can see it out and they can part ways without much damage to either of them at the end of the F1 2024 Season.

Charles's current contract with Ferrari is also up at the end of the 2024 season. Again, even though 2023 has been absolute dogshit for Charles and Ferrari, I don't see that contract ending early. For one, Charles has apparently been promised that the 2024 car will be developed according to his needs and preferences, and it is ridiculous to leave a team who has made you that promise, even if that team is as flakey as Ferrari. I think Charles is waiting to see if the team does change in 2024 before he pushes for contract renewal. It's important to note here that contrary to popular opinion, I believe the ball is completely in Charles's court here when it comes to renewal. He is the Ferrari golden prince, he is Ferrari in a way that no driver really ever has been before, I think it was evident in Monza this year most of all. Carlos drives for Ferrari, and Charles is Ferrari and you could see it in the way that the tifosi treated them. They love Carlos, they adore and worship Charles. This is how Charles managed to convince them to build a car for him in 2024, and it's how I believe Charles is putting off the contract negotiations. This is a key point. Carlos's extended media team and family have complained several times about Carlos not being able to begin contract negotiations because of Charles in some way and Ferrari unwilling to negotiate with Carlos until they've settled Charles (I think this is due to the fact that they only intend to keep one of them and they'd like it to be Charles, but that's an essay for another day). So Charles has himself in a position where he doesn't have to commit to the team unless he sees that it is going to grow in the way he wants it to.

To quote Charles, "I view it in a way that whenever I won’t believe in the project anymore, that probably will be the time when I’ll have to go away. Because it’s in these kinds of situations that you don’t get the best out of yourself, that you don’t help the team as much as it needs to be helped. But this is definitely not the case at the moment. I believe in the project as much as I’ve ever believed in the project before. Especially since Fred arrived. So for now it’s clear. Then it’s also clear that I want to win. But I believe in this project and I’m sure we are working in the right direction.”

So maybe 2024 happens and Ferrari brings a championship-contender car, in which case Charles signs with Ferrari, they get rid of Carlos and probably bring in Alex Albon as a n2.

But I'm not interested in that outcome, I'm interested in what is (in my mind anyway) the far more likely outcome, sheerly due to money and Ferrari internal politics (which again, whole other essay!) which is that nothing really changes for the better at Ferrari. Maybe Charles gets a win by sheer luck and a slightly better car, but overall the strategy continues to not favour him, and Charles in general loses faith in what he refers to as the project. And we know from Charles himself that when this happens, this is when he goes away.

So I've presented an argument for why Red Bull are going to let Checo see out his contract, I've presented a strong possibility for why Charles might be looking to leave Ferrari at the end of 2024. Now I'm going to try and convince you of why out of all the options it'll be Charles joining Red Bull.

First of all, from Charles's point of view regarding teams. I'm going to rule out Alpha Tauri, Haas, Williams, Alfa Romeo, and Alpine, either because they're junior teams or I don't see them willing to fork over huge amounts of money to get Charles onboard. This leaves Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, and Red Bull.

Out of all the non RBR options, I'd say that Mercedes is the most likely, but both their drivers are signed until 2025. There is always a possibility that Lewis Hamilton decides its time to leave the sport and buys himself out of his own contract, but I think that's not likely to happen next year.

Similar to Mercedes, both McLaren drivers are signed until at least 2025 and both look likely to honour that contract. Red Bull have tried to poach Lando multiple times, and Lando doesn't seem too keen on it yet, so we can assume that he intends to at least see his current contract out. Aston Martin is slightly trickier because I see them as being willing to fork over the millions needed to get Charles Leclerc to drive for them, but on the other hand they don't look close to producing a championship car, and Charles Leclerc is not switching away from Ferrari to not win a championship.

So, this leaves RBR as Charles's best destination for 2025 were he to leave Ferrari. Not only do they have a seat opening up, but they also have shown themselves capable of constructing recent championship-winning cars, and outclass every other team almost every weekend on strategy at the moment. Now that we've established that Charles's team of choice would be RBR, the final point of the argument has to be establishing why Charles would be RBR's driver of choice over let's say, Lando or Daniel.

To me the answer is simple, as so eloquently illustrated by my great friend and scholar Nat (@tsarinablogs) in her The PR of Lestappen in 2023 Essay (also known as Lestappen Gate 2023), Charles is not just good at PR, he's brilliant, and Red Bull isn't a racing company, it's a marketing venture. Having Charles on board would be their greatest asset and Charles has done much to make himself desirable, from being personable in almost all fan interactions to building a solid digital following, to being sometimes sneaky and subliminal with his sponsorship messaging (him always putting on APM Monaco immediately after a race, even before the podium and interviews, hell even Charles and Privateplanegate yesterday), to signing with a literal US entertainment agency. I cannot stress enough how the timing of the WME signing is not accidental, this is Charles making himself be seen as a highly desirable PR asset. Charles has the second highest following on social media out of any current driver, second to only 7 TIME WDC WINNER LEWIS HAMILTON. That sort of audience, and the kind of exposure it can bring to your team and your brand is insane.

Also, as an addendum to Nat's essay using something she herself brought up to me yesterday: any PR for RBR is good PR because it means that Red Bull as a concept is sticking around in people's heads, which means they're more likely to notice and buy the drinks off the shelves. Extrapolating from this we can see that Red Bull signing Charles would ultimately be better marketing than Red Bull signing Lando just because of the absolute uproar it would cause. Whether you think that Red Bull saved Charles from Ferrari, or Charles betrayed Ferrari for Red Bull, or Charles saved himself from Ferrari, or Red Bull as the Big Evil Team poached the Prince of Ferrari, there's a compelling narrative in there and people will talk about it for years to come.

Finally, not to talk about the driving aspect of motorsports, but Charles is the best fit for Red Bull driving-wise as well. Him and Max have spoken in the past about how they both prefer very similar types of car (ie. strong oversteer, borderline undriveable to anyone else) which would make car development much easier for the team. Christian Horner has also been pretty candid about wanting two n1 drivers à la Lewis and Nico (although without the toxicity), and whether you believe that Charles matches Max in equal machinery or not, Charles's racing record is a lot stronger than Lando's or Dan's (the two other possible competitors for the RBR seat). Charles fits the bill, driver-profile-wise, of the complement to Max that Christian Horner is looking for.

So, long story short, I am watching Ferrari VERY closely these next few months. If the SF-24 doesn't make Charles happy, I am going to make a bold claim that we will see Charles Leclerc driving for Red Bull in 2025.

#charles leclerc #lestappen rbr #red bull racing #Lestappen Gate 2023 #lestappen #screwderia ferrari #anon #f1 essays

325 notes · View notes

emberfrostlovesloki · 8 months

Text

Unwanted Attention [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: Having to travel to the middle of nowhere Ohio for a serial killer was bad enough, add to the fact that the local LEOs are looking a little too hard at JJ, Emily, and _y/n_ was seriously testing Aaron’s resolve. Lots of protective Hotch here! This is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute Writing Challenge. I’m using the dialogue prompt: “Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!”

Category: Angst/comfort - (mostly comfort I think).

Word Count: 5.8K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (serial killer - kills via strangulation but nothing explicit) unwanted physical touch (groping of the behind and pubic area) misogyny, sexism, the U.S. police, language, brief mention of intimacy.

A/N: Hi friends! I am very pleased with this one. I love writing Hotch with righteous anger. It just looks too damn good on him. I also love the duality of this man because one moment he is ready to bite someone’s head off and the next he only has eyes for you and he’s checking in and feeling guilty. You could read this story as a standalone or as a prequel to my story, Life can be Terrible, but At Least You're In It. (linked). I want to shout out @criminalskies for hyping me up while writing this. Last, if you enjoyed reading this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Levi

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_f/c_ = favorite color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/c_ = yuur hair color

Walnut Creek Ohio, who on the team had heard of it? Well apart from Spencer, because apparently he’d read a United States Atlas Map one night when his insomnia was bothering him, and he had retained all the information about nearly every tiny town that existed in the States. Spencer was rambling off facts about the tiny town stating, “There are 908 residents in the town as of 2017. It’s shocking that a serial killer would target such a small community where everyone has to know everyone else.” y/n, JJ, and Reid were all at the coffee station filling up cups. y/n pulled out her _f/c_ thermos. She always made sure that anyone who wanted coffee got to go first because her reusable metal container took about half the pot. y/n had finally wisened up after Emily and Spencer kept complaining about the coffee getting lukewarm, or worse, cold while sitting on the plane. Now her coffee stayed hot for hours if need be. She had bought the teammates that relied as heavily on caffeine as she did as Holiday or birthday gifts and the thermoses were stored away in one of her closets of her apartment, ready to be taken out and wrapped at the right moment. Spencer’s comment pulled her back to the present moments and she replied, “Nothing can stop a person going bad I guess. Not even a small town.” This stopped Spencer's comments on the location of the team's most recent case, and he shifted gears to talk about the psychological development of those raised in rural environments versus those raised in urban areas. y/n continued to listen to Spencer as he spoke, even if she couldn’t always keep up with his mile-a-minute commentary. She listened because Reid was a fount of knowledge and often a comment he made and maybe didn’t even remember would be helpful later on in the case. She also listened because sometimes the other members of the team didn’t when he spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t think that what he was saying was important, it was just that they were trying to come up with their own thoughts and theories about the case. y/n was also guilty of tuning Reid out sometimes, but when she could listen to him, she did.

y/n had always been more of a listener than one to contribute to the conversation early on. y/n felt better about talking once she had more information and that normally wasn’t until the team arrived at the case's location or even saw the first crime scene. Once y/n had the bigger picture, she was ready and able to hope in and give her thoughts. Before that time came, she would listen and think about her prior knowledge. Although it might be less exciting than guessing and formulating theories, she found that often some basic information or past cases or criminals was useful when leads dropped or the case seemed to go cold. In her process, she was thinking about the future. As she had integrated into the team full-time at the beginning, Derek teased her for writing so much down in a notebook. She highlighted any relevant information the team stated or facts that seemed relevant. Morgan had joked in good humor but as the first few cases came to a close, the whole team slowly realized that she was approaching these cases from another angle, one that proved to be highly valuable at important points.

y/n settled next to Emily at her desk and pulled her go bag from underneath the space. The sound of Aaron’s door closing caught y/n’s attention. He was wearing that maroon tie she liked so much. She hadn’t told him that yet, it felt too trivial, but she really liked that tie on him. Aaron caught her eye for a moment and there was a small twinge in her chest before they quickly, discreetly looked away. Nobody knew that they were spending time together outside of work. They had to be discreet because it was mixing work and pleasure and in a place like the FBI, that didn’t just fly. y/n was sure Hotch knew everything about the rules and consequences of breaking those rules, but he hadn’t filled her in on those details. She had looked at the employee handbook but it was all legalese and it hurt her head. If she and Aaron did become more serious, and committed, she would ask him to interpret the confusing language for her. Thankfully they weren’t having a hard time keeping their work and private lives separate, yet.

Aaron felt the normal thrill of heading out to a new case. He considered the word, ‘thrill,’ thinking it wasn’t the perfect synonym for the arrival of yet another slew of murders, but it certainly wasn’t excitement either. Excitement meant something happy, something to look forward to. ‘Energized,’ his brain offered. Mentally Aaron nodded along, That would work for now. He had to be energized for this work. He wasn’t a young man anymore but there had to be a strength and calmness with him. He was the leader and even with Rossi being on the team for over a year, his agents still looked to him to make this all work. His eyes found y/n’s and there he found the look of thrill. This was still so new to her, even though she had been on the team for a while. He looked away as always, not giving into any desires that lingered when he was paying attention to his newest agent. He was grateful that y/n was professional and polite and had the utmost decorum even though outside of work they hadn’t been entirely professional. The thought of their last non-work meeting at her apartment and her heavy breathing and soft sounds on her lips, as he worked over her clothed body with his hands brought a momentatry flush to his face.

Hotch sobered as quickly as he had flushed as Dave came up beside him and said, “You ready for this?” Aaron looked over to his friend and bluntly replied, “As ready as possible, but it's still never easy.” Rossi nodded along as they both moved down the stairs and toward the parking lot. This line of work wasn’t easy. Aaron knew that every time his team left for a new case there was a chance that someone might get hurt, or even killed and no matter how good everyone was at their job, that possibility still worried him. y/n’s face popped up in his mind as he found his seat in the jet and he pushed away the thought. His relationship with her had shifted to something he wasn’t entirely sure he had under control. They hadn’t made anything official and hadn’t even said, “I love you,” yet. However, Hotch wasn’t a man who moved quickly, but as long as he and y/n had an open, honest conversation about where their feelings were headed, he wasn’t going to fight it. He had fought so many things, and people in his life that he didn’t have the desire to fight this too. Being around y/n felt good. It felt safe and he rarely got that in his life, so he was embracing it where he could. As JJ went over more of the facts and details regarding the case involving a serial killer wreaking havoc in the tiny town in Ohio, he shifted his full attention to what his media liaison was saying.

As the jet landed on the tiny airstrip, everyone got out and into the waiting SUVs. Aaron drove with Emily, Spencer, and JJ while Rossi took y/n and Derek. Spencer and Emily were discussing the need to work well with the law enforcement in the town as they were likely ingratiate into all aspects of the community. Meanwhile, JJ was preparing a statement for the media. In the other car, Derek turned from the front seat and asked, “So what are we thinking in terms of prior knowledge _y/n_?” y/n turned her gaze to Morgan’s and said, “Well strangulation is such a common signature that we’re going to have to look for something more specific to get traction here. The photos do look like this guy is strangling people from behind and the unsubs killing fit men someone who doesn't want to face what they’re really doing? Or it could be that they despise their victims so much they can’t stand to see them again, even while killing them?” Morgan nodded and elaborated on the idea that the killer might see these men as a competition of some kind. As having something the unsub lacked. This information allowed those in Rossi’s car to start to form a physical profile of the unsub. As the team made it to the small local police station, everyone got out of the parked cars and a man who appeared to be in his fifties who was balding badly came out to greet them.

Aaron stepped forward and extended his hand. The man took it and gave it a firm shake, saying, “I’m Officer Bronson. Thank you so much for you folks from coming out here.” Aaron nodded, replying, “I’m Agent, Hotchner and this is my team.” He indicated to the team, quickly introducing them. First, he gestured to JJ stating, “This is our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau.” JJ stepped forward and took the man’s slightly sweaty hand. Aaron moved through the rest of the team quickly, wanting to get the introductions over with and the real work started. He motioned to each of his agents saying, “This is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, _y/n_ _l/n_, and Emily Prentiss.” Each member nodded as Hotch said their name and Officer Bronson replied, Well welcome to Walnut Creek. I wish it was under happier circumstances. I’ll let you all get inside and out of this heat.” As the team moved into the small building, Aaron asked, “Is there a space where we can get organized and look at the evidence more easily?” Bronson nodded and led the team to a table at the back of a very small station and said, “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. I’ll have someone clean off the files and stuff off for you.” The man turned and semi-shouted, “Anderson, can you clear your junk off this table?” Anderson, a thirty-something-year-old moved around the team and got his things saying, “Sorry Chief.” Bronson looked to Aaron, almost for approval, and asked, “Will this do?” To which Hotch simply replied, “It’s fine.”

As the team settled a little y/n looked at JJ with a ‘Are you kidding me?’ expression and then looked at Anderson who was placing his numerous files on another table. JJ rolled her eyes in return. The fact that one of the officers had open files possibly containing sensitive or private data out on a table for anyone in the room to see displayed the station's lack of professionalism. The team worked up a preliminary profile and Aaron told Officer Bronson that they were ready to address his unit. Bronson called his team to the side of the room and as the officers sat down, Aaron moved forward saying, “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for your attention. My name is Aaron Hotchner and I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. This is my team, and we’re here to coordinate with you to try and stop these killings as quickly as possible. If you have any questions please hold them to the end. We appreciate you working with us, and now I’ll let Derek Morgan deliver our preliminary profile to you.”

Aaron stepped aside to let Derek deliver the profile. Hotch had asked Morgan to deliver the profile because something about the officers sitting in front of him didn’t seem like they were convinced that they needed the team's help. Given the fact that Derek was the closest in age to many of the officers, and he could be just as intense as Aaron if he wanted, Aaron thought that the men would respect Morgan over someone like himself or Rossi. It helped that Morgan also looked more like the policemen now listening with unveiled trepidation about the profile. This was another part of the job that Aaron disliked. He not only had to profile the unsub but the law enforcement officers as well. His team and the local authorities had to work together due to bureaucratic rulings and sometimes the officers didn’t want the Bau's assistance. The idea that the team was ‘taking over’ or ‘standing on their turf’ often caused conflict. Aaron always tried to nip this conflict early. His team didn’t need to worry about that and quite frankly they all had better things to do. Aaron looked at the ten seated men, as he listened to Morgan. Most of the officers were looking at Derek, but one or two were consistently looking over at JJ, y/n, and Emily. Aaron clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to sigh. He could tell whatever conflict his team and this police unit were going to have would be an uphill battle.

Hotch noticed when the men he was working with paid a little too much attention to members of his team. Hotch couldn’t deny that y/n, JJ, and Emily were all beautiful, intelligent, and capable and that combination was attractive. However, that did not give these men a right to act lewdly or leer at them. As Derek wrapped up the profile, he fielded a few questions from the assembled crowd. With that, Chief Bronson dismissed his men. Aaron gathered the team and they broke into smaller units to look for any clues that might bring them closer to finding the unsub. Aaron, Spencer, and y/n were headed to the high school which was the scene of the latest killing. Rossi and Morgan were headed to the hospital to see the bodies of the victims to determine if there was more to the signature than just strangulation. Lastly, JJ and Emily were going to go to the press to provide a statement for the townspeople who were panicking and holding up the police phones making those who really needed help unable to get it.

In the evening as the team regrouped at the station, there was the kind of frantic energy they got once the case had really started. y/n had lots of thoughts and was ready to see what the rest of the team had discovered. She knew she wasn’t going to see much sleep tonight, so she moved to the break room where the coffee pots normally were in police stations. As she approached the room she began to overhear a conversation going on inside. The snippet she heard was, “So who are you picking, Blondie, Brunette, or _y/h/c_?” There was a laugh before the other man in the room began saying, “What about all three?” There was more laughter at this and as the unseen man began saying, “But if you’re really making me choose…” y/n walked quickly away before she could hear the answer. As she moved back to the team she thought, ‘These guys really have no standards.’ She felt slightly repulsed but did her best to ignore the feeling. As she stepped back to the table, and Aaron looked over at her, he could see that something was wrong. A few minutes later, when he was finished listening to Spencer’s geographic profile, Hotch moved to stand next to y/n. In a quiet volume, he asked, “Is everything okay?” y/n looked up at him. His expression had the smallest hint of worry, and she alleviated that fear by saying, “Yeah. It’s nothing.” Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Tell me more about what you were saying to Derek about the point of impact, we might be able to get a height on the unsub with that information.” y/n nodded and jumped into the conversation. Aaron could tell that something was off about y/n, but he wouldn’t push it. He trusted her to handle things herself and if she needed to, he knew she would ask for help.

The night wore on and eventually, the team moved to the tiny hotel the town had. There were barely enough rooms to fit them all. The town was very cozy and picturesque in its quaintness. y/n thought about this as she drove Derek and Rossi to the hotel. She assumed it was a nice place to grow up in. To grow old in. y/n wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but she chalked it up to tiredness and the case. Because for seven men there would be no growing old here or anywhere. The sadness of that realization only made her want to solve this case more badly. There were always a lot of emotions tied to the cases they worked on, and to protect herself, she had to try and stay disconnected from the pain and hurt that the victims and the victims' families went through. But she couldn’t always hold back those emotions and now was one of those times. As everyone settled in for the night and said their goodnights, which just meant ‘I’ll be sitting up in bed reading over the same evidence as you one door down,’ Aaron walked over to y/n and said, “Goodnight, y/n.” His brief interaction with her at the precinct from earlier in the day flashed in his head. He didn’t like it when she looked upset. It made him feel nervous, so he asked, “You’d tell me if something was wrong? Wouldn’t you?” The question came out of left field and y/n blinked for a moment, not really knowing why Aaron was asking. At this point, she had sort of forgotten the rude comments being made by the officers, so she replied, “Of course I would Aaron.” At her response, Hotch infinitesimally relaxed and the two headed for the elevator together. Rossi had seen the interaction between them. He didn’t hear what they said, or that y/n had used Hotch’s first name, but he couldn't help but feel that something was there between the two agents. Perhaps it was the way Aaron leaned down a little bit to be in earshot, or the way y/n looked at his friend like nothing else around her mattered. David wouldn’t say anything yet, but he was sure he was going to start paying more attention to Aaron. Rossi wasn’t against whatever was happening between his coworkers. Aaron had had a rough few months, and he thought the man deserved some comfort.

In the morning most of the team was out hunting leads. Derek and y/n had stayed back for a minute because _y/n_ thought she had seen something new in the geographical profile. They would both head to the sight of the first body once she had looked at the board again. y/n was standing, looking at the map, engrossed in the pins Spencer had pushed into all the significant locations thus far. She just barely acknowledged when Morgan said he was going to use the men’s room. She also didn’t notice when one of the officers came up behind her. The man extended a hand and grabbed her ass giving it a squeeze. At the unwanted touch, y/n whipped around saying, “Hey!” The phrases echoed around the nearly empty office. She looked at the man, clocking his name on his badge, Monroe. There was a moment of silence before y/n incredulously said, “What was that?” Monroe gave a laugh and said, “Sorry, babe. I thought you were interested.” With that, the officer quickly left, as he noticed Derek coming back from the bathroom. Monroe nearly brushed shoulders with Morgan as they both tried to fit through the door at the same time.

When Derek got into the room, he noticed that something was off about y/n. She was standing still with a look of shock and disgust on her face. y/n tried to fix her facial features back to normal, but Morgan had seen and quickly strode into the room next to her. Derek looked her over quickly and asked, “y/n, what’s wrong?” y/n looked to the floor for a second, biting the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t really believe what had just happened. For a moment she thought about lying but knew that Morgan would keep asking until she gave in. She sighed and looked up at Morgan’s worried face, saying, “That guy just groped me.” At hearing this, Morgan turned on his heel, but Officer Monroe was halfway out the door with Officer Anderson. They were both laughing at some unheard joke. It took everything in Derek to not go over to the two men and give Monroe an unadulterated piece of his mind. However, he knew that wasn’t his place really. And he wanted to make sure y/n was okay. He turned back to _y/n_ and asked, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” y/n nodded her head no, saying, “No. I was just shocked, I guess.” Morgan nodded along and said, “It shouldn’t have happened, period. You need to tell Hotch.” y/n’s widened at the suggestion. It made sense of course. Issues like this were under his purview, but for some reason telling him about this made her hesitate. Before she could think about it too much Morgan repeated himself saying, “Hotch would want to know.” y/n put her palms up and said, “Fine, fine. I’ll tell him when he gets back.” Morgan gave her a look that made her say, “I promise I’ll tell him.” After a second of picturing that uncomfortable forthcoming conversation y/n said, “He’s gonna be so mad.” Derek could understand what y/n was saying but noted, “Maybe, but not at you, y/n.” There was another awkward silence before Derek finally said, “Do you need a few minutes, or would you like to head out?” Desperate for a distraction y/n, almost too quickly replied, “No. let’s go.”

At the supermarket where the first victim had been found. Morgan and y/n took notes and got the security footage. It seems like they had a real lead by finding the license plate of the van that had dumped the deceased man in the alleyway near the store's load bay. However, the footage was too grainy to make out. After finishing watching the video, y/n moved to call Garcia and see if she could enhance the video quality while Derek asked the security guard who had found the victim in the morning some questions. When she wrapped up her call with Garcia, y/n briefly slumped against the outside wall; closing her eyes. She tried to think about why talking to Hotch about what had happened with Monroe was bothering her so much. She knew that Derek was right. Hotch wouldn’t be mad at her, at all. Maybe it was a feeling of embarrassment? y/n’s logical side of her brain said that she didn’t need to be embarrassed. She hadn’t groped anyone, but the feeling persisted. Maybe because talking about the incident meant being vulnerable in front of Aaron which was all fine and good when they were alone in her apartment. But having to do so at work was entirely different. y/n let out a breath deciding to push all her feelings back for a moment. She would deal with it later. For now, she moved back inside the rendezvous with Morgan.

‘Later’ came as it always did. It was around five o’clock and the whole team was reconvening at the station. As the SUVs arrived one by one in the parking lot, everyone got out. y/n looked over the team. They all looked a little tired, but when didn’t they on a case? y/n felt the fatigue pull at her, but she knew she would find a second wind once she heard what everyone else had found out. She knew this unsub was here lurking in this little town, ready to kill again. She looked over to Aaron who was speaking to Emily about something. y/n desperately wanted coffee and she walked toward the front door as she got close, Officer Monroe walked out the door. His badge was off and it was clear that he was headed home for the day. y/n wondered if the man had a wife? Kids? The idea of it only made her more disgusted. As they neared each other she refused to make room for him on the sidewalk. She’d make him move aside for her. She wasn’t, however, going to look at him. y/n planted her gaze on the sidewalk. Much like Monroe’s unwanted touch that morning, she didn’t expect to walk into him full force. When she turned her face to the man he said, “Hey, watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” y/n could see that Monroe was actually enjoying this and she replied, “You ran into me!” Monroe smiled at seeing this woman like this -- uncomfortable. He had enjoyed the rush of her skin under his hands, and now he hoped for a repeat performance. Hardly thinking that there were others looking on, he quickly and forcefully placed a hand on her navel and then brushed downward. y/n stood stock still as this happened because she thought that it couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here in public, in broad daylight, in front of the whole team? It just couldn’t be happening.

Aaron was chatting with Emily about the profile as he looked over the team to see how they were doing. As he looked at Morgan, and Morgan returned his gaze with a facial expression that said, ‘We need to talk.’ Aaron gave the man a nod and Morgan looked over to y/n who was walking forward the precinct. Her shoulders seemed pulled tight under her shirt but in a way that hid that she was trying to hide her stress. He watched as she walked into one of the police officers from yesterday who had been overly enthused by y/n, Prentiss, and JJ’s presence. Aaron could barely hear the brief conversation between the two and as the word, “Sweetheart,” was thrown out, Aaron stiffened. And then it happened. He couldn’t fully see where or how far down the officer’s hand had landed because _y/n_ was blocking his view, but Aaron observed y/n stiffen, and that told him all he needed to know.

Before y/n could find her voice and tell Monroe to ‘get the fuck off of her,’ Aaron’s clear sharp voice addressed the officer like a whip. Like a wound aimed at the man who dared to touch y/n. Aaron was over to y/n in an instant. He placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly but gently pulling her frozen body back and behind him. Aaron towered over Monroe, and he felt his blood boil. Aaron let a harsh breath out and said, “If you value your job, and your pension you will get your hand Off. My. Agent.” Aaron highlighted each word that evinced his anger. Behind him, _y/n_ felt a wave of relief from being pulled out of that situation. Quickly Spencer and Emily were pulling y/n farther away from the scene, but she could distinctly hear Hotch say, “Get in your car and leave. Now.” Derek watched as Monroe slinked away to his car looking defeated and small. Spencer and Emily walked with y/n into the precinct, asking if she was okay, and the team as a whole huddled around her to make sure she was really alright. When she had reassured them, everyone except for Hotch moved away from y/n. Aaron placed a hand on her forearm and led her to a chair. She sat and let the exhaustion of the case, disgust at Monroe's actions, and the feeling of his hand on her body overwhelm her for a moment. A shiver ran through her. Aaron knelt down on one knee to be more on eye level with y/n. If his words before had meant to intimidate and accuse, his tone now was one of reassurance and comfort. Aaron spoke professionally but with a hint of something more that spoke to their relationship outside of work. He asked, “Be honest with me. Are you okay? Are you hurt or bruised?” Aaron’s voice helped still her thoughts and she assessed her body before saying softly, “I’m not in any pain.” She didn’t answer his first question because she didn’t particularly feel alright, but she knew she was safe now. Especially now that she was with Aaron. Aaron registered this and asked, “Has this happened before while we’ve been here?” y/n swallowed and replied, “Yes, this morning right after everyone headed out for the day.” Aaron gave her that look that said, “Elaborate please.” y/n bit her bottom lip, wondering how to phrase what had happened. Not finding any more polite or dignified terms, she said, “Morgan had stepped out and I was focusing on the bulletin board and he, um, came up behind me and grabbed my ass.” She could see the anger, the controlled rage fire through him again and she wanted to say something to reassure Aaron that she really was alright, even if she wasn’t. However, he stopped her as the Chief of Police entered the building. Aaron turned his head back to y/n and said, “Excuse me for a moment.” Then with a tone of reassurance, he said, “This conversation isn’t over.” Hotch stood and looked at Emily who understood that he was asking her to sit with _y/n_. Prentiss moved to sit next to y/n. When this was done, Aaron turned his attention to the officer who had just entered the building and said, “Chief Bronson, your office, now.” His intonation left no room for questions or delays and the older man nodded and walked into his cluttered office with Aaron on his heels. Once the door was closed Hotch turned and he felt the anger bubble up to the surface again. As Bronson asked, “What seems to be the problem?” The man sounded nervous.

From outside the glass-walled room, the team listened as their leader said, “One of your officers just assaulted a member of my team.” Bronson’s response was inaudible, but Hotch’s reply of, “What do I mean?” Could be heard clearly. At this, the team flinched, knowing that the man inside with Hotch was about to have his soul ripped from his body and handed back to him. Everyone listened as Aaron said, “What I mean is that just a few minutes ago, Officer Monroe had his hands on a member of my team in a private area. And that wasn’t the first time this has happened today.” Aaron took a steadying breath before continuing, “As much as I respect law enforcement and what you do, I’m highly concerned about what’s just happened. If someone under your authority thought they had the right to touch a federal agent, I fear what’s happening with normal residents of this town.” Bronson stumbled to find words and said, “Well I certainly don’t condone that behavior.” Aaron let out a harsh scoff, not truly believing the man saying, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that your officer felt entitled to do what he did. And I don’t think Monroe thought he was going to face any consequences, and I can only imagine that he assumed that because you’ve let him get away with behavior like this before.” After this, Hotch’s voice dropped lower so the team outside could no longer hear him. Derek said, “Well I think Officer Bronson has had his ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.’” That comment actually made y/n laugh and she felt a little better now that she could laugh at this whole situation. Hearing Aaron stand up for her like that made her feel warm inside in a comforted sort of way. Aaron finished unloading with the warning, “You’ll be receiving an ethics complaint from the Department of Justice as soon as I’m back in Quantico. You might consider cutting your losses before then.” With that, he got up and left the office.

Later that evening in y/n’s room, she and Aaron sat. She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Aaron who was in the only chair in the lamplit space. This was to be a continuation of their conversation from before. y/n looked over at Hotch and saw how perturbed he looked. She felt a tug in her chest seeing him like this. He already had to deal with so much and now there was this. She started the conversation in an attempt to soothe this new hurt by saying, “Hotch, it really wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hurt me, it was just unexpected.” At her words, he dipped his head and said, “It never should have happened, y/n. He touched you without your consent twice, and I couldn’t prevent it.” y/n frowned and felt that Aaron had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with this job. She said, “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I know you see how they look at JJ, Em, and I.” Hotch lifted his head and placed a warm hand on her knee saying, “Of course I see, and it bothers me more than I can say. Having these men look at you is bad enough, but when one of them starts to act on those feelings, it's unconscionable.” y/n saw that she wasn’t going to make him feel any better, so instead she put her hand over his and gently rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. She said, “I’m going to be okay Aaron. And if I’m not, I’ll let you know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Hotch let out a breath at her touch and words, simply replying, “Always, y/n. I’ll always be here.” He wanted to lean in and press his body to hers. To cover her from unwanted attention and hands. But there was still a case, and she looked tired, but he promised himself when this was solved that he would be spending a considerable amount of time either on his or her couch with y/n on his lap and his arms settled around her; as long as that was something she wanted of course.

The case wrapped up a few days later and the team headed home. On the plane ride back, y/n crashed on the couch facing Spencer. Emily, Rossi, and Morgan watched with a small amount of surprise, then a soft understanding as Hotch quietly took off his blazer and placed it over her curled, sleeping body. And when Rossi left his office and walked toward his car he stopped and made sure Aaron and y/n didn’t see him as Hotch held y/n and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As Hotch wrapped her in his arms, y/n’s hands moved to his chest, and after everything that had happened on top of the case, at least she knew that she was always safe with him.

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #reader x hotch #angry hotch #protective hotch #derek morgan #emily prentiss #hotch blurb #comfort fic #hotch angst #i made this for you #spencer ried

185 notes · View notes

tenthousandyearsx · 9 months

Text

Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!!#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

239 notes · View notes

just-a-strange-boy · 1 year

Text

experimenting for friends

part 2 - hair-pulling

part 1

Sherlock Holmes is a man prone to addiction. In means of trying to finally set an end to his substance abuse by finding something equally stimulating, he is eager to do his share of research - and of course, it's your help he's requesting. Another experiment entails.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of relapse, penetrative sex, mentions inexperienced/virgin Sherlock, questionable sexual favours, fwb (?)

A/N: this is definitely not how you (should) treat substance abuse, but hey... it's Sherlock

"I have a request."

You were just sorting through some paperwork, a whole clutter of important documents you figured he should keep, neatly organizing them in binders and folders, something Sherlock thought was too mundane and boring to do, when the detective came to approach you, downright startling you with one of his spontaneous verbal outbursts.

"Fire away", you had said, looking up from the piles of paper to find him standing in the doorway, hoping that he wasn't just going to ask for another walk so he could have yet another cigarette. You'd managed to get him down to three a day, which was a huge success, considering he had only relapsed recently, heavily abusing substances far worse than nicotine. It had been your agreement from the get go – you'd turn a blind eye to Sherlock smoking a limited amount of cigarettes as long as he stopped using otherwise.

However, it wasn't a cigarette he was asking for.

"Obviously my desire for substances mostly stems from how they affect the release of chemicals within my brain, chemicals that stimulate and influence the way I process my thoughts. They minimize the often overwhelming sensations I experience and are inhibiting my natural urge to deduce everything. They manage to calm my mind, a rather positive effect, which is why I have always relied on getting high if I needed a moment of peace. Can you follow me?"

Sherlock was speaking as rapidly as you were used to, not even allowing you the slightest opportunity of uttering a single word, "Of course you can follow me. You're not an idiot. I know you've done your research and I explained it to you plenty. My point is that I have been researching with the intention of finding something that will have a similar positive effect, in order to...not having to use."

"Let me guess", you replied with a sigh, processing what he was telling you, figuring quickly why he came forward with a request, "You're suggesting another experiment that I will have to be part of? To research and find out whether any theory you have might be correct?"

The detective nodded, striding over until he was standing next to the table, gaze drifting over what you were currently sorting, before giving it a dismissive look and focusing back on you.

"Yes. Exactly. I knew you would get it. I have... reconsidered that time when we... um...uh", he began almost awkwardly, all the sudden stuttering in a way very unlike him, "...when you touched me and when we were close... I felt good. In a way that might be comparable to a high. But I need to figure out what kind of effects it has on me from an analytical point of view to make sure I am right about my assumption."

So very clearly, Sherlock was suggesting you gave him another sexual favour – like once before in an experimental setting, needing to gather 'information' before he could confirm his assumption.

You had no doubt that a sexual high could be comparable to a drug high in some way – you wouldn't know though – and you would have liked to help him, but also considered it risky.

As much as you would have wanted him to find something, anything, to stop him from using ever again, you didn't know whether that would be the right way.

Leading Sherlock to another kind of addiction was risky, considering he was definitely prone to developing them, may it be his evident addiction to the thrill of his work, trying to keep up with and challenge the dangerous minds of criminals, or the substance abuse itself.

Besides that, you didn't want to put your friendship at risk and you were also not going to be some object for Sherlock to figure out whether sex could make him feel similar as a high on drugs.

The man sensed your initial reluctance, continuing his lengthy explanations, so typically like him, so casually like only Sherlock could as he seemed to have found his grip again.

"But at the same time I know it wouldn't be fair of me to continue requesting those things for my own gain. You are your own person and I would never try to guilt-trip you into something that could possibly set an end to my habitual substance abuse. I am very aware that I am the one owing you a favour for your help in the first place. I do not want to further strain our friendship with my demands, but I need you to know that... if I can share and research this with anyone, I would want it to be you."

You sighed. It was ridiculous. Ridiculous that you were even considering this in the first place.

Could you have refused Sherlock? Possibly. That's what you should have done anyway.

Did you want to refuse him? Certainly not.

Last time you had decided to work on an experiment with him, you had gotten to see a very different side of Sherlock, soft and submissive and gorgeous. You had kissed him, touched him, not to mention you had absolutely jerked him off too. You had praised and cherished him. Sherlock had sounded wonderful, looked beautiful, so raw and open and honest – you had definitely not forgotten the sight. And yes, you might have masturbated to the memory itself too.

The instance had been hard to forget.

But ever since then nothing else had happened between you two. For good reasons.

Sure, you had sought out his presence like you usually did. You were friends, comfortable around each other, spend time with one another, though Sherlock wasn't necessarily an affectionate person. He didn't hug, didn't cuddle. He certainly wasn't interested in being anything but friends.

So you had figured that first time was just going to be a one time thing, just an experiment for research, and tried your hardest to get over the fact that Sherlock didn't harvest feelings for you other than appreciation for the friendship you offered. Romantic and sexual attraction were a rarity for him, so you knew, and you had never pretended you might be the exception.

Nevertheless you couldn't help your own feelings. You liked Sherlock a lot.

It pained you to see the detective on edge and all sombre, to see him lost in drug addiction and throwing himself into dangerous case work, just to escape from his own mind for a moment. You hated to see him hurt and so bloody lonely.

Of course it also made your heart ache to know you were nothing more than a friend to Sherlock, so you should have been wiser, refusing to partake in the experiment, because you indeed weren't some test subject and this was a recipe for disaster, something that would likely hurt you and potentially harm him in the end – which you did not want.

But the idea of being close to him again, of being able to potentially help Sherlock get his mind off the drugs, to ensure he would be feeling good and okay, even if just for a little while. You couldn't quite escape your own track of thoughts, your own wants, your own conviction that you might the person meant to save Sherlock Holmes from himself.

"Do you want me to... uhh... you know?", you asked, followed by a very specific hand gesture, unable to ignore the certain awkwardness, you sitting there, Sherlock standing there, a mess of case and paper work all around, as you kept looking at each other.

There was no distinct expression on the detective's face save for slight expectation and a bit of redness on his cheeks, blushing as you suggested giving him another handjob.

"I have not determined any specifics", Sherlock admitted to you, though not in refusing, "Meaning... I don't know what I would want, what would work. The things you offered me last time have had a positive effect on me. I know that I want to be close to you. I don't know what would suffice."

You contemplated, gnawing on your lips like you always did when you were a bit nervous, breaking his gaze for a moment as your glance fleeted over the table, even though your head was undeniably full of Sherlock.

You were both only human. While the detective craved something to ease his mind, you craved the physical intimacy and emotional connection to him. Neither of you should have taken use of the other, but since you were both consenting adults, you allowed yourself to be weak and stupid.

"We'll try to figure it out then", you agreed, "Let me finish this first?"

"Of course", Sherlock nodded, "Don't be too long, Mrs Hudson has invited us downstairs for dinner and I was suggesting we watch an episode of that ridiculous show you like afterwards. Before we... um... do anything?"

Evident surprise must have crossed your face and for a moment you had a hard time searching for the right words, not knowing what to think. It was kind of him to suggest, almost domestic.

Of course, having dinner at Mrs Hudson's wouldn't be like dinner at an actual restaurant, but Sherlock didn't want to go anywhere public in his current state of body and mind, so soon after his relapse. His landlady made impeccable food and she was even went out of her way to make it for the two of you, so you were amenable.

"Yes to dinner. We don't have to necessarily watch the show though", was all you replied, "You'd never be able to shut your mouth during the episode anyway, making comments about it the entire time. That's why we never watch TV together, Sherlock.”

"I comment on everything and you usually don't seem to mind", Sherlock stated and the slightest sign of a smile snook onto his lips.

And you smiled right back at him, not needing to have the last word and returning to your paperwork, while Sherlock continued his usual pacing and casework.

Needless to say, any attempt of continuing this work was useless anyway, since you were entirely incapable of focusing on the stack of files before you, unable to shrug off your nervousness as your thoughts went spiralling about what you had just agreed on.

You eventually came to the conclusion, while you were brooding over payment checks from clients, this might actually make for a nice time together.

Having dinner with Mrs Hudson was nothing unusual for you two and always made for an enjoyable time. Sharing a bed wouldn't be weird, as you had done so before, if only for a couple of danger nights, with a distance appropriate for friends between you.

What was appropriate for friends by definition anyway? Hadn't that line already been crossed by the one sexual favour you had given him? If you followed through with this today, closing that distance between you once again and going even further than last time, every possible line you could think of was going to be blurred forever.

It was very hard to not think about the possibilities, not the consequences, but how far Sherlock would be willing to go with you, what he would allow and ask for.

You wondered whether Sherlock would want to kiss you again, whether he would want to give as much as receive, whether you would actually have sex and how it was going to be, whether he would ask you to stay afterwards and share the bed with you.

Even thinking about what your evening would entail made you a little nervous.

Thus you were more than grateful for having dinner beforehand, considering it was so much easier to keep your doubts at bay and just stop thinking so damn much as Mrs Hudson was bustling around the two of you. She was as chatty as always, kept you entertained with stories from her past and her good food was a welcome distraction. Once again, she expressed her gratitude over you getting Sherlock back on his feet and voiced how glad she was that her tenant was doing much better with your assistance, going on about how happy she was he had found an actual friend, even though she still heavily insinuated your romantic involvement with each other.

You neither denied nor confirmed the idea in the moment, finding it rather amusing how flustered Sherlock got at the mention, though not bothering to say a word about it either, and after helping Mrs Hudson with the dishes, the two of you eventually headed upstairs together again.

It was fair that she had her suspicions. Probably many people had.

After that last experiment and tonight, rightfully so.

You ended up taking turns in the bathroom.

Admittedly, you were more anxious than expected while in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean everywhere, not knowing what to expect, what you were going to do, if Sherlock would even want to touch your body or if he just required you to touch him – and you were just as nervous while Sherlock was in the shower, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with your glasses, scrolling mindlessly through your phone as you kept thinking about what you wanted the man to do to you and more so how you were planning on bringing him pleasure.

If he'd let you.

You had dressed down to what you usually wore to bed, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, being so bold as to forgo underwear altogether, curious how Sherlock would react to such a clear proposal, if he took note of it at all. Glasses still perched atop your nose, you turned your head when you heard the door to the bathroom open again, eyes following Sherlock as he came back out to join you on the bed, shrugging off his housecoat to reveal his choice of pyjamas, not so different from what you had decided on wearing.

"So, what did you have on your mind?", you dared to ask again, courageously, placing your phone on the bedside table, before turning further to Sherlock, who was now just sitting there, right next to you, neither seeming expectant nor nervous by any means, "I know you said specifics weren't clear, but I'm sure you have a fair amount of imagination."

"That is correct", the detective agreed, "I came to the conclusion that perhaps it would be wise to... begin like we did last time."

You shot him a smile. "So, you'd like to kiss me?", you asked, arching your eyebrows at him, hoping that Sherlock would take the bait and just go for it. There was nothing he could've done wrong. The thought of getting to kiss him again made you awfully excited.

"I'd like you to kiss me, yes." Though seeming slightly reluctant and reserved, his words were clear. He wanted you to kiss him.

And you definitely were going to kiss him, but most importantly you wanted to give it time. There was no need to rush and hopefully, neither of you were going anywhere any time soon.

So you reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand. Instead of climbing him like a tree and slipping onto his lap right away, kissing him like your life depended on it, you were deciding for the two of you to take this slow, beginning with something as simple and innocent as touch.

Perhaps this would allow Sherlock to gather information better, how he responded to affection, how he responded to you initiating, how the simplest things would influence him or perhaps how they wouldn't. Whether it would leave him hungry for more, driving him mad with anticipation, or whether it wouldn't do anything for him at all.

This was an experiment after all. Might as well just do some experimenting.

You slotted your fingers together, marvelling how your hand fit into his so smoothly, so perfectly, and pulled them apart again, letting your fingertips dance over the expanse of his hand, tracing those long, skilled fingers with simple fascination. Fingers you had watched so often, whether it was them dancing over the fret of his violin, preparing samples for his microscope, picking up evidence at a crime scene. Wonderful and careful hands.

Eventually linking them into one another again, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked at him, finding him glancing back at you. Of course you tried to read Sherlock's expression right away. There was some curiosity, he seemed attentive and receptive, the grip of his hand tightening instinctively, a response. He was just looking at you, observing, perhaps contemplating.

Your own heart was beating a little faster, sensations heightened by the sheer intimacy of the moment, time seemingly standing still all around you, so you couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment when you decided to move further. Perhaps it was the synapses in your brain finally snapping, perhaps it was just the need to break the tension that had come up between the two of you, perhaps it was a mutual silent agreement to do this all of the sudden.

Whatever it was, you leant into Sherlock, who met you halfway, pressing your lips together, responding to one another immediately.

As your mouths slotted together, a rather gentle brush of lips at first, you could feel how the grip on your hand was instinctively tightening, holding onto you more, in fear you might be slipping away any second again. But you certainly did not, would not, wrapped up in Sherlock's taste and warmth and his smell, licking along the seam of his lips, sliding your tongues together as he let you claim his mouth, as you let him explore.

You didn't know what had gotten you so hungry all of the sudden, but you knew you needed more of Sherlock. Speaking of addiction. So you decided to get more of him, who seemed compliant to your every move, absorbing every little bit, every touch, you allowed him.

Even those moments apart, when both of you had to catch your breaths, small gasps of air between you, he was quiet and observant. He let you shift around, slipping onto his lap again, greeting you with another sweet kiss after having you perched on his thighs.

Reaching up, you gently cupped Sherlock's face in your hands, tracing his jawline, those high cheekbones, before sliding them all the way up into his dark curls, tugging on his hair.

The reaction was imminent, the kiss broken immediately, a groan slipping from Sherlock's mouth, leaving the two of you a bit startled at the sudden response.

"I need you to do the exact thing again", the detective requested then, his tone demanding and firm, before smacking your mouths together again, a kiss hot and downright desperate for more, and you gladly obliged, fingers tangled in his locks, giving them another pull, which caused a reaction not so different from the first time.

Apparently praising wasn't the only thing that got Sherlock going.

So you continued your eager advances, seeing how far you could take this, brushing through his curls before gently tugging on them again, letting Sherlock's moan break the kiss, tilting his head back by his hair and baring his throat.

"How are you doing this?", the man groaned, almost hissed when you began mouthing at his neck, "I don't understand how you can have this effect on me."

But there was no explanation you could have possibly given him. Perhaps you just clicked with Sherlock and that was why.

You only knew how addicted you already were, how you couldn't get enough of the man's taste, the warmth of his body, the sweet noises from his throat and the thought that perhaps he really wanted you too.

Making sure to not bruise the skin, you kept nipping at the expanse of his throat, pulling on his hair times and times again, dragging more moans out of him. Your name passed his lips after a while, the softest sound, then a "Can we stop for a moment?"

Raising you head again to look at Sherlock – a delectable sight, slight blush on his cheek, lips swollen red from kissing, pupils dilated with need, a dreamy expression on his face – and waited for however long was necessary.

"Are you okay, Sherl?", you asked immediately, hoping you hadn't made him uncomfortable.

Apparently he just wanted to elaborate though.

"I am more than okay. I just need to tell you something", Sherlock replied, holding onto you by your hips, a steady grip, "As you have... um... figured, I respond quite heavily to your advances. I am puzzled by the effect you have on me, because I was always very convinced that I simply was not interested in things of a more physical nature. But you keep kissing and touching me and I'm not entirely sure what it means that my body reacts like this."

Quite passively, you continued to stroke the back of his head, listening to him as attentively as you could, trying to ignore your own arousal. You were going to work through this with Sherlock, not questioning his worries or uncertainty for a single moment, allowing him to take the time he needed in order to understand himself and what he wanted and most of all, why he did.

Of course, you had wondered before and you were still asking yourself the same question now. Had Sherlock even had sex with anyone ever? Everything about his words and his behaviour was indicating he hadn't. But he didn't seem to be all too nervous, instead content and collected.

Maybe you were even more nervous than him.

"You're turned on, if I had to guess. Which I find really flattering. And it's more than okay that you're feeling like this. I want you to enjoy this experience, so please don't let the unknown hold you back", you advised with a soft smile, "I like you, Sherlock. I enjoy being around you and doing this with you... it turns me on too."

"You know I don't experience and approach things like most would do. Sex has never been the focus of my interest, so I... I have never done this. I have done research, but I'm not going to know exactly what to do", Sherlock admitted, eyes flicking over your face, the look of consideration, as if he were searching for the right words, "You're... absolutely endearing. It's nice to have you around and I trust you. And I want to do this with you."

"So do I", you responded, unable to stop the smile slipping to your lips, thinking it was lovely how Sherlock entrusted you with his mind and body, how he wanted to share this moment with you and no one else. "We can sure figure out what you like best", you added, "Would you want me to take the lead?"

The man seemed to consider your question, although you were partially convinced that he was more so enjoying the quiet of the moment, your fingers brushing over his scalp, basking in the closeness, though simple affection usually was something Sherlock didn't like. Not with anyone other than you apparently.

"Would you want to participate in penetration? If so, I suppose I have no clear knowledge of which position would serve best, but I am interested in learning. Since you are the one with more experience, I find it only logical you are the leading part", he spoke up eventually.

"Fine with me", you hummed, "I have no preference either, but I find it quite comfortable on your lap, so perhaps we can work around that?"

Admittedly, your wet dreams always tended to drift in a direction similar to this. There was something submissive about Sherlock, something that made you want to take him apart, lay him out on the bed, mount him and fuck him silly until he was a desperate mess begging to come, and you were sure it would have been a beautiful sight to have him this way.

Since you were already sitting on his lap, your crotches pressed together, hands tangled in his hair, seconds away from bringing your lips to his throat again, you wouldn't mind it sweet and gentle either, letting him explore all you had, letting him consume all you offered, letting him take his time to harvest the information he needed.

Maybe one day he would like to take the reins, but you couldn't really imagine him as the dominant part just yet.

You knew exactly how you would take the lead, how you would ride Sherlock all the way to ecstasy, until the brilliant and smart detective would fail to find the proper words and fall apart under you. Oh, how you wanted to hold him close, wanted your bodies entangled and conjoined, wanted to be able to sense and enjoy all of him.

It was a silent and natural agreement between you, so you figured as Sherlock's skilled hands sought out the hem of your shirt.

"I'm afraid you have to stop touching me for a moment", he mused and went on to gently pry the thin shirt off your body as you complied. After all you had been together for all kinds of weird occasions and sharing rooms, you had been close to him before but never quite so exposed, not in a way like this. Never undressed for him to see or touch.

In comparison, you had seen Sherlock bare plenty of times before, naked and vulnerable, so stripping him out of his shirt in return was by no means unfamiliar. There was something about this level of intimacy though, the sensuality of his touch on your skin that already made you shudder with need, winding you up with anticipation.

It was Sherlock then, who so carefully let his lips ghost over the expanse of your neck, exploring bit by bit, spreading gentle kisses, teeth grazing the skin and you supposed he was not entirely distracted from making deductions just yet – how else would he have possibly figured how to strike a nerve within you?

Your hands wound up in the dark curls again, playing with strands of hair, tugging on them, using them to pull Sherlock's head backwards as the advances on your sensitive skin were too much to handle. You too were soon moaning, panting hard, a pretty rosy colour to your cheeks.

"I find it very enjoyable when you pull on my hair", Sherlock admitted to you and while he had previously held his hands very still, he couldn't continue to resist and began touching you more, exploring your body with diligence. He had never touched you or potentially any other person like this, so excessively. If you thought about it, no one ever really had been so thorough as him, trying to map out every inch, every crease, every little mark. It was as if he was memorizing you, cataloguing. Careful with you. Mesmerized by you.

You didn't mind his advances, had never been on the self-conscious side but under the impression you weren't really sporting an exceptionally beauty. If anything you were ordinary, and still... this man looked at you, touched you with utmost adoration, curiosity, interest. Like he couldn't simply get enough from you. Like he didn't want to ever stop again.

"I find most of you very enjoyable", he added.

"Likewise", you smiled at him, hands busy stroking his nape, his upper back, pale shoulders, skin flush with heat under your touch, "I suppose you figured out what's getting me going."

"I think it's fascinating", Sherlock mused, "Because I could feel your pulse quickening and your body tensing up when I began kissing your neck. I imagine these are the exact responses you could notice on me when you tug on my hair. It's fascinating how our bodies respond so impulsively to a variety of triggers in such different ways and..."

Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to let Sherlock ramble about the creation of personal preferences, you quickly shut him up with another kiss, sealing your lips together promptly, giving a sharp tug to his curls. It certainly earned you a moan of surprise and Sherlock seemed not entirely displeased about your decision, hands returning to your waist to keep you steady, maybe wanting to prevent you from slipping away, afraid of losing what he was just learning to enjoy, kissing hungrily and with the kind of fervour one didn't really expect him to have, every bit of what he had wanted to say forgotten.

Your mind ran quite blank too. You knew that you wanted and desired Sherlock, pressing further up to him, could feel heat pooling in your groin and knew that you were already aching for him within the restraints of your sweatpants, becoming painfully very aware of how you had decided to forego underwear altogether, meaning it was just a bit of fabric between you.

Starting to rock your hips atop Sherlock's lap, because you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you figured you weren't the only one getting aroused, feeling his hardness trapped beneath the remaining clothing, soft groans leaving both your mouths as you ground down on his bulge, creating a friction that left neither of you unaffected.

"I need you, Sherl", you moaned against his lips, throwing the decision to take this slow out the window, too far gone at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel the man inside of you and ride him to the breaking point. You were so horny you almost whined as you moved atop of him and your obvious neediness seemed to render Sherlock speechless altogether, his gaze just as clouded with lust as he simply stared at you and you lost yourselves into each other, chests heaving hard, bodies melting together.

All he gave was a nod of consent and you started beaming with unrestrained joy, slipping off Sherlock's lap to come kneel on the bed, hands drifting up to the waistband of his pants. "Are you sure this is okay with you?", you still decided to ask. Even though the man had seemed consenting before, you'd rather have him be comfortable too.

Whereas you would have expected a snappy comment or an entire mass of words breaking loose over you, Sherlock remained rather quiet, nodding, the smallest 'Yes' slipping past his lips.

He seemed entirely enticed and you made sure to keep on looking at him, pulling the soft material down by the waistband and stripping him bare, carelessly throwing the clothing aside, once you had wrestled it down his legs.

To have him so exposed and naked before you was a sight to take in, letting yourself simply look at him for just a moment, your hands rubbing over those lean thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous", you uttered, fingers gliding along the inner sides, brushing over wisps of hair, all the way up to his crotch, the hardening cock, taking the member into your hand, watching him twitch and grow in size. You would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about his cock after the first time, never been able to forget the sight, wishing to feel all of him inside.

"I...um... how do we do this?", Sherlock quietly asked, redness burning on his cheeks as his eyes were fixed on the sight before him, "How would you want me?"

"You lay down on your back, get comfortable and let me do the work", you advised and gave him a quick wink, watching Sherlock settle down almost immediately after your advise, more than eager. And wasn't it just the most perfect sight, his lean body atop the sheets, skin reddened with small blotches, traces of his arousal, his cock raging hard in the grasp of your hand, dark curls bedded on the pillow, dreamy look in his eyes as you looked at one another.

"There's... uh... lube and condoms in the bedside drawer", Sherlock muttered, like he didn't quite want to admit to it.

You shot him a pleased, but surprised expression. "Did you plan for this?", you wondered, reaching over to fetch anything you'd need from the drawer, "Or do you just keep them in your bedroom all the time?"

"I was certain that I had at least a seventy-eight percent chance you wouldn't refuse and since I have considered all possibilities that almost meant including the accomplishment of a sexual encounter, I thought it was best to be prepared just in case. As I have however opened up to you that I have no experience with sexual interactions, so no, I don't keep them here all the time, I've purchased them for this purpose... recently", Sherlock answered, his nervousness evidently easing again as he managed to speak mostly unaffected as he always did, the kind of rationality not unusual by any means.

"78 percent? You did the math and all, didn't you?", you grinned, using the moment to slide your own sweatpants off your hips, revealing your full nakedness to the man, whose eyes remained on you, widening, darkening, looking up and down your body, trying to seemingly capture every single little detail of you, lips parted and his pink tongue slipping through as he admired you.

At a lack for words, Sherlock just nodded, watching you return to him and slump down atop his lap again. You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching for those fine and skilled hands, placing them on your body as Sherlock remained a little taken aback, probably slightly overwhelmed with the sight and sensations alone. Though once he dared to begin touching you again, he got this look of fascination on his face, a spark in his eyes, tender touches on your thighs.

"Would you like to help me prepare?", you asked, knowing full well that with a curiosity like Sherlock's he would likely not refuse.

"I understand that it will make this more pleasurable for you, so yes, I think I'd like to", he agreed and you canted your hips forward, towards him, allowing Sherlock to reach out to you, trailing his fingers down your body, lower, across the expanse of your belly before slipping between your thighs, no doubt finding what they were searching for.

A heavy shudder surged through your body when he did, breath hitching in your throat as you felt fingertips circle your entrance. You knew the breach would initially feel unusual, not having had a partner in a long time and not being an avid user of sex toys either, but god, how you ached for him to touch you, how you wanted to just feel him. After adjusting his hand into a comfortable position for the both of you and slicking fingers up with lube, Sherlock slid one into you so easily that all worries were just leaving you at once.

You couldn't stop a moan from leaving your lips, even just one finger in, and wondered how much research Sherlock had actually done as you found yourself arching into his touch. It wasn't clumsy by any means, if a little more careful.

There was a pleasant tingle pooling low in your stomach, your arousal rising to indescribable heights in thorough interest of getting fucked, and your mind went blank when he pushed another finger into you, gently spreading you open with a passion.

"Fuck, Sherl, feels so good", you groaned, looking down at the man, who so gently and kindly fingered you open, like he wasn't doing this for the first time, like he wasn't a stranger to this at all, "Can't wait to have your cock inside of me."

While Sherlock did not seem to be one for dirty talk, remaining mostly quiet and fixed on you, he definitely seemed pleased with your reaction, urged on to continue his advances, fingers already sinking in deep and lord, he had these long and wonderfully skilled fingers that were certainly capable of finding the sweet spot. If you let him continue, he was no doubt going to make you cum like this. You were so obsessed with the feel of him already, bloody hell, his fingers alone, pressing further into his touch and technically begging to be fucked.

Trying to keep your right mind though, you thought it was best to request Sherlock to stop, knowing that as soon as you were going to ride his dick, it would all be over for you anyway.

The small break did you well as he withdrew his fingers again, not leaving you out of his sight for a moment. You shuffled back down on the man's lap, making sure to prepare Sherlock just as much, rolling a condom over his raging arousal, before drizzling a bit of lube on him, coaxing another grunt from him as you rubbed him up and down.

You weren't sure who was more gone on the other – yourself, cock-hungry and needy, positioning the tip of his hardness against your hole, already going crazy at the slightest nudge, or Sherlock, watching you with a dreamy and blissful look on his face, blushing hard, lips parted and breath stuck in his throat in anticipation as you eventually sank down on his cock, taking him all in, slowly.

Bodies combined, becoming one, groans and panting immediately merged into one as well.

"God, Sherl...", you mewled, filled out so sweetly. It felt just right. You began moving once used to the stretch of his length, fully sheathed within you, and tried to keep your gazes locked, save for taking in the entire sight of Sherlock once in a while – skin flush from arousal and the heat of the moment, his eyes attentive and almost adoring, full blown with desire, his chest heaving and sinking hard, hands almost trembling as he let them skim over your waist, your thighs and all he could reach.

"This feels very good", the detective acknowledged, only occasionally and shyly rocking his hips in time with your movements, seeming unsure and perhaps a bit overwhelmed with the sensations, "You feel very good."

You couldn't quite respond anything that would make sense and at a loss for words simply continued to move atop him, supporting your slow motions with hands perched flat against the man's stomach.

There was no need to talk about what was going on, neither for you nor for Sherlock, as unspoken truths were shared between you two, how well your bodies fit together, how good you felt and how much admiration you had for each other. You hadn't expected it to be like that, so intimate and fulfilling – to be honest, you hadn't even had expectations when it came to Sherlock anymore.

There was always this element of surprise about him, something unpredictable, and fairly said you hadn't even expected to get into this situation with him in the first place.

But there was this amount of comfort and trust that exuded Sherlock in the moment, being vulnerable with you, submitting to you, an unusual innocence sticking to him. It made you feel possessive of him and even more so, protective.

Though he never failed to surprise you.

While he had previously held back moving too much under you or daring to explore your body with more bold touches, he seemed to warm up to the idea of intimacy and sex, for that matter. Astonished by the suddenness of his motion, you couldn't hold back a gasp when Sherlock pushed himself into a seating position, sliding his arms around your waist to keep you steady on his lap, his cerulean eyes fixed onto you with curiosity as he observed your reaction, as you continued to ride him with long and deep strokes, one hand shooting up to support yourself on Sherlock's shoulder, the other drifting into his hair.

You swore you could hear him cuss under his breath, once tugging on his dark curls again, but since you were entirely overcome with a mass of different sensations and emotions, it really could have been anything he muttered. And all the same, you found it didn't matter.

Your mouths slid together again, tongues finding each other once more, and you rocked even harder into him, pulling on his hair over and over, wanting to elicit more sweet sounds from him, being rewarded with the most desperate whimper.

You were completely lost in one another, something you hadn't quite awaited, but very well welcomed. That was the thing about Sherlock, always seeming so put together, so closed off and shielded from the outside world, so focused on facts and information and logic - and yet he was far from all that. You only knew all that because he let you see.

Sherlock was sensitive, could be pried apart as easily as made whole again, he lost himself in the smallest things so quickly, searching for things to ease his thoughts and mind, prone to getting addicted to them. Emotions overwhelmed him and that's why he refused most human interaction.

But he wasn't refusing this, wasn't refusing you, because there was an unspoken trust between you. You didn't know where that trust stemmed from or how Sherlock truly felt about you, but this wouldn't be happening if he weren't convinced of you being trustworthy.

On the cusp of pleasure, you were both entirely gone, and all that mattered were the raw sensations, bodies sliding together, obvious heightened emotions pouring out between you.

Head buried in the crook of your neck, Sherlock was breathing hard, moaning into you skin, shaking in your hold as you continued to tug on his hair, causing him to twitch and whine and crumble apart under you.

You spoke the sweetest praises, words mangled with your own moans, your thighs trembling but still riding him with fervour, though you could sense your stamina failing you, could feel yourself being so close to the edge by the way your nerves tingled within your core, the way pleasure heightened immensely with each thrust, something building up, and yet you were only able to let go as Sherlock himself toppled over.

His entire body went tense, not to say rigid, tightening his hold on you like he was afraid of losing you altogether, a moaning and twitching mess as he was overcome by his own pleasure.

"You're doing so good, Sherl, so good for me", you found yourself whispering and it must have been a combination of all things going on, Sherlock falling apart and pulsating inside of you, keeping you seated on his cock with a tight hold, and being on the absolute verge of sexual excitement, that made your own orgasm hit, causing you take him exceptionally deep with one last thrust, rocking out waves of pleasure and arousal.

"Oh, Sherl, my Sherlock", you let out a heavy sigh, coming back to your senses fast, while the man still seemed a little absent, clutching onto you tightly, face pressed to your shoulder, where you could feel laboured breathing and an unexpected wetness against his skin.

You knew they were tears, but didn't mention it, stroking the back of his head with the comfort that Sherlock just needed, comfort that he often refused or wouldn't allow himself to get. Perhaps it wasn't even sadness, but relief washing over him, the sudden overwhelming feel of orgasming.

While his previous responsiveness to affections and especially praising had fired up a curiosity within you, it was this specific moment, just holding Sherlock so close and having him so vulnerable after just having sex with him, that caused your heart to swell as well as ache, mind heavy and clouded with so many thoughts and sensations rushing in.

You couldn't help but feel for him. For his sadness and loneliness and desperation, all things Sherlock would never admit to having, but all deeply rooted within him.

And you couldn't help but feel love. A love that shouldn't be, because that was not what you were to Sherlock. It was not the point of your care for Sherlock, it was not what his older brother was paying you for. It should not be the reason behind your thorough protectiveness of the man, behind you caring, behind... this and all you did for him. But it was. You couldn't shut it off.

Yes, you were Sherlock's caretaker and this shouldn't be happening.

You had already crossed the line of sentimentality and any professionalism by becoming his friend so early on. Any decision you had ever made for Sherlock's sake was painted by your friendship to him and therefore not logical but emotional.

It would be surprising to none that you had developed this love for the man and everything he was. Feelings couldn't be helped, of course not, and you doubted people close to the two of you were unaware of how much you actually liked him.

In the end, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Sherlock didn't feel and love like most people did, not to say that he couldn't, but the way he was and would always be simply differed from the mass – so it would be wise of you to expect nothing and accept things as they were.

And whether Sherlock Holmes could ever feel the same or something similar as you did for him, would perhaps forever remain a question unanswered.

#k writes #bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #x male reader #x gn reader #sherlock fandom #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock smut #sherlock x gn reader #sherlock x male reader #gender neutral reader

281 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

awkward-boner-fairy-lolz-blog

PizzaCat

dreamer2197

My heart is untamed still

apinkchuck

AnytHing UndEr ThE sUn

cookboss88

Ranking featured

iliedaboutthechocolates

I Have No Idea What I’m Doing