#I think tumblr ate my image descriptions

[gojomamashouse]

Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there’s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x you

[az-cain]

Bruised Thighs/Flowery Sheets

rhett abbott x reader ≈ 3300 words

TUMBLR ATE THE ASK DAMMIT, i am so so sorry anon, but it said:

If you're taking requests...sub!Rhett needing help to clear out his mind after having a rough ride and he can't stop the self-doubt. Poor boy just needs to be fucked so good his brain stops functioning 😈

this is pure filth! i love it. so fun to write. thank you to @girl-in-the-chairs-void for encouraging me and my terrible thoughts lmao, i wouldn’t have picked it back up today were it not for you.

TW FOR: description of bruises and hard landings, mild angst, brief mention of shitty fathers and poor body image, food and a poor relationship with it (ice cream), mild dacryphilia (crying kink), spanking, oral sex m&f!receiving, anal fingering m!receiving, pegging, dumbification, pet names (honey, baby, good boy, sweetie, darlin’)

Rhett’s thighs always hurt after a ride. The bull’s bucking consistently left his legs black and blue, so he’d grown accustomed to the pain. What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, however, was the sting of his forearms smacking the dirt on a bad dismount. The gravel dug in even through the thick shirt he wore, and the disappointment pierced through his skin beside it. As he scrambled away from the raging bull and into the pen, he sighed heavily, wearily, looking at the time. Five seconds. He hadn’t even made it ¾ of where he needed to be.

As he passed by his father, who clapped him on the back with a lightly-disguised look of displeasure and murmured common words of reassurance, he struggled to smile gratefully. He’d had an off day, he knew that was all. It was only a qualifier, so he wasn’t out of the game. Still, the stinging anger that rested behind his eyes refused to subside until he saw you.

You had his red flannel unbuttoned across your chest and your sports bra exposed to the wind, the summer night heat beating down on the whole stadium. Your jean shorts were just long enough to be decent, and the smile you gave him was anything but. His worries melted away, now just residing in his mind as a quiet nagging voice.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him eagerly and letting him bury his sweaty forehead in your equally sweaty neck. “How are you feeling after that dismount?”

He pulled back and tried to smile, lips quivering slightly, but ultimately shook his head in resignation. “Not great.”

You rubbed up and down his upper arms, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. “I know. You want to go get ice cream?”

He nodded with a sniffle, feeling like a child. He knew, though, that you only wanted to cheer him up. So, as you led him to his truck and pulled his keys out of your pocket to unlock it, he straightened his back and tried to push his bad thoughts from his mind.

Did it work? Not entirely.

As you shifted into drive, he clicked his seatbelt into place and felt you set your hand on his knee. You rubbed comforting circles on the soft skin and hummed along to the pop song filtering through the stifling summer air, made more tolerable by the blasting A/C and the open windows. He was struck, silently, by how much he loved you, and it gave him pause. Your hand on his knee calmed him significantly, almost enough to make him stop thinking about his off day.

As you pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru, you moved your hand back to the steering wheel. “Same as always?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled gently, so entirely enamored with you.

He listened to you order for the two of you, the crackling response that was nearly inaudible, and your loud “thank you.” As you waited in the drive-thru line, you cranked up the radio and plugged in the classic rock cassette he’d recorded for you, much to your amusement.

A number of sleazy songs played loudly across his cheap, 20-year-old speakers, and as you sang— or belted, rather— the lyrics, he couldn’t find it in him to care that the two of you were being the annoying drive-thru patrons everyone despised. The pencil you’d found to use as a microphone was dropped into the cupholder as you lowered the volume and met the teenager’s extended hand with a thank you, collecting the two cups of ice cream that you handed to him. He took small spoonfuls of the stuff as you drove home, the negative thoughts seeping back in in the form of body image. He wondered if he’d have gotten a better time today if he didn’t eat so much ice cream.

Of course, he knew that these thoughts were silly, so he did his best to put them out of his mind as you pulled into the driveway of your home and helped him out of the car, offering yourself as a brace for his bruised thighs and stinging forearms.

You entered the house together, settled on the dark couch and ate silently with one another, content to simply be in each others’ presence. When you’d both finished, you took his cup and ventured into the kitchen to throw both away before returning to your seat. At your gesture, he laid his head upon your thigh and let your hands come to rest in his hair. You sat there, running your fingers through his long hair for minutes, until you began to want more.

You tugged lightly on it, just testing the waters, and Rhett keened, whimpering through the muffling of his palm. “Please,” he whined quietly. A faint smile split your cheeks and you hummed, continuing to scratch his scalp like you’d never pulled on it. “Want you,” he continued, turning to meet your eyes and lifting his hips off of the soft couch to try and find friction against his jeans.

Chuckling softly at his neediness, you nodded. “Okay, honey. Let’s go to the bedroom.” With that, you patted his shoulder to make him move, and stood up behind him. When he moved slowly because of his sore thighs, you smacked his ass. A loud groan ripped through him— and through you— as you said “C’mon, baby.”

He started walking faster, your legs keeping easy pace, and made it into the bedroom quickly. He turned around and grabbed for you, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“Need you, please,” he whined again, to which you pressed your lips against his harder, biting at his bottom lip and swiping your tongue against his. His desperation only served to turn you on, lightning ripping through your lower abdomen.

You pressed one more harsh kiss against his lips before you squeezed his ass and commanded, “Strip.”

Ever obedient, he reached to tug off his tight t-shirt as you took a step backwards. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, his boots slipping off of his feet with ease, jeans and boxers falling to the carpet with the quiet whoosh of denim against skin. You watched eagerly as his cock, red and swollen, smacked against his milky-white thigh; you listened as he whimpered from the small amount of contact. You felt yourself clench with excitement as his hand twitched towards it, but you met his eyes and shook your head solemnly. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily, and nodded quickly in return.

“Good boy,” you crooned, approaching him again. One of your fingers traced along the ridge of his cock, a hum breaking from your chest as he bucked against you with a cry. “Stay still for me, sweetie. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words were quiet, but the obedience warranted some kind of reward; noting this, you kissed down his neck, to his torso, to his Adonis belt, to the base of his cock, all the while slipping to your knees before him.

His breathing sped up, bruised thighs clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you said, kissing along the tops of his thighs gently, working ever closer with each kiss.

Finally, reaching the wiry hair at the top of his cock, you looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were foggy, lust-addled and exhausted, but when he met yours, you saw them warm up slightly with adoration.

You held that eye contact as you kissed down his length, gently taking the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly. A wail broke from his lips as he doubled over, hands balling up into fists with concentration. “Please, please, oh god—” Rhett breathed the words quietly, just loud enough to be heard over your own breaths.

The resolve to be good for you made you moan around him, your thighs pressing together to find some sort of friction. Your mouth popped off of his tip with a pleased hum. “Use your words, baby.”

He struggled to meet your eyes, his pretty blues looking straight through you for a moment before you snapped your fingers to catch his attention. He focused in on you, just barely, and you raised your brows. “Words, darlin’.”

He nodded absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Please, oh— please suck me off— or— or fuck me, please,” he stuttered out, breaths coming quickly as he tried to process what he was asking for.

You closed your hand around one of his ass cheeks, avoiding the tender bruises. In response, you got a broken moan and a few senseless words of thanks. “Good boy, thank you for telling me what you need. Let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

Finally, you opened your mouth and let his dick fall onto your tongue, drool sliding down the length of it. You used your spare hand to collect the moisture, stroking it from where it fell from your mouth to the base of his cock. He sobbed above you quietly, eyes still fogged when you look up. The wiry hair scratched at your hand as you held his base tightly, allowing yourself to take him into your throat carefully, but not wanting him to let go just yet. It was a struggle not to gag, as it always was, because his cock filled your throat with so pleasant an ache. Still pushing your thighs together, you shifted your weight slowly to try and find some relief against your clit, moaning harshly around him when you succeeded, punching a groan out of him at the vibrations.

The hand that remained on his ass started to squeeze again, working its way between his cheeks. You sunk your middle finger in, searching for his rim. Finding it rather quickly, you reveled in the loud, strangled noises he made as you circled it with some pressure. He begged and pleaded for more nearly incoherently. “Oh god, please, oh my god,” was most of what you pieced together. Not deigning to pull off of him to respond, tongue and mouth still working around him, you pushed those two fingers in gently, more harsh crows tearing from his chest.

Distantly, you mourned the fact that you wouldn’t get to take him down your throat entirely, needing to keep that hand there for his sake. But still, you were having your fun and getting off on just this, your spit dripping down his cock and onto your wrist, and the middle finger from your other hand teasing lightly around his most sensitive spot. He was sobbing above you, hands balled into fists as he approached the edge but couldn’t quite reach it.

Quiet whines, praises, and pleas left his throat, high-pitched and needy; putty in your hands. Your jaw had begun to ache rather quickly, the sheer girth of him making the fun short-lived. So, pulling back and standing up, you told him to get on the bed. You tore your own shirt and pants off of your body, needing your overheated skin exposed to the air.

Rhett had laid down face-up, just how you’d wanted. Walking up to him, you slipped a finger between your thighs to show him just how slick you were. You were positively aching: throbs of pleasure were radiating through your hips with every step you took, the sight of his cock twitching against him and the sound of his whimpers only exacerbating the issue.

When you reached the bed, you climbed up onto him to straddle his face, his eyes following your pussy eagerly. “Oh fuck,” he whined, hips canting off the bed with desire, before you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock again, He panted below you, breaths completely erratic as you settled down onto him. Your hand tangled in his hair, balancing you directly over his open mouth as you kept a tight clutch on his dick. Licking eagerly into you, Rhett pushed his hips down to try and keep from thrusting into your fist. As a reward and in order to satisfy that ache, you ground down against him. His nose caught your clit, and you groaned a guttural sound that sounded like you were being torn in two. Again, and again, his nose caught your clit, and you felt that tightness ratchet higher and higher within you. After one more good grind down against his open mouth, his tongue trying to work its way inside of you, you let go, collapsing forward as you let his cock go, one hand clutching tightly into his hair and the other against the headboard. Shocks wracked your body, moans leaving your mouth entangled with expletives in a stream. You sat atop him for a few more moments, still clenching lightly as you tried to gather yourself.

When you finally felt that you’d recovered, you dismounted his face with one more grind and strutted to the bathroom to get the strap-on, sure to sway your hips for the boy watching. You pulled it and the lube from the cabinet you kept it in and rinsed it thoroughly, removing any dust that may have settled since you last used it— purely a precaution, but you were nothing if not thorough. Having shook most of the water off and slid the harness and vibrating dildo on, you shut the bathroom light off and emerged to find Rhett face-down on the bed, knees spread below him and hands clutching the sheets beside his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’re so smart. Just what I wanted to see,” you crooned, one hand coming up to smack the unbruised part of his ass as you approached the bed. He rocked forward with the impact, arching his back towards you as he cried out.

You popped the cap of your water-based lube and slicked your fingers, warming them up for a moment before tracing circles around his asshole and slipping two fingers into him. With a loud moan, he pressed back against you, ignoring your command to stay still for the first time that night.

Smacking him lightly again, you scoffed lightheartedly. “Already fucked stupid? Stay still, baby.”

He nodded, sobbing muffled apologies into his pillowcase as you worked another finger in. Taking his sobs as a good enough apology, you grabbed for the base of him again and pressed gently at his prostate. He wailed into the pillowcase, his head flying back and forth as he struggled to keep still for you.

When you pulled your fingers back, he settled down a little, just enough to catch his breath. Moving up enough to level your hips with his, you smiled down at the sight of his farmer’s tan-striped back arched against your flowery sheets, the perfect composition of beauty, before you pressed the head of the silicone cock into his ass.

Slipping past his rim, you continued to slide in slowly, letting him adjust to the width of the toy splitting him. You didn’t use this one often, usually opting for the thinner pink one, but you really wanted to fuck the brains out of him tonight. It seemed that this toy was the right choice for that objective, because he was babbling mindlessly into the pillow, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, you pulled your hips back, then slammed into him with all of your might, sure to angle your hips down. He screamed into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he let go, streaks of come spurting onto the bed as he shook like a leaf. “Fuck!” You heard, the first intelligible word you’d gotten in minutes. He rocked back against you and continued his babbling, still recovering from his last orgasm but wanting more.

With a smile, you continued to rock into him slowly, stroking up and down his back with a nail for a few minutes to allow him to recover. When his breathing seemed to return to a steady pace and his hands had returned to an open position, you reached down to flip on the vibrator, the harness resting against your clit perfectly.

He jumped at the sudden change, but quickly melted again with a moan when he realized what happened. “Oh my god…” he sighed, hands balling into fists once more. You rocked into him slowly, testing the waters, before slamming your hips against his ass and setting a grueling pace.

The vibrator allowed you to find pleasure, steadily building both of you up as you whispered praises to the cowboy underneath your hands. You ran your palms along his ass, squeezing occasionally to get a garbled moan out of him.

Angling your hips down, you set yourself to getting him off at the same time as you, because you felt yourself rapidly approaching that peak. “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it,” you murmured half to yourself and half to him as you nailed his prostate. He rubbed his face into the pillow at the thrusts, trying desperately to muffle his desperate sounds.

You leaned back and wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, throbs resonating through your hips as you tried to hold on. Just as you were about to give up and let go, he wailed into the pillow and thrust his hips into your palm, hot, sticky ropes of come falling onto the bed. Content, you thrust into him one more time to rub your clit harshly along that bump in your harness, letting go with a cry of your own and grinding your hips against his as you rode it out. The waves died down, your walls still clenching lightly as you pulled off of him and discarded your harness in the bathroom sink. You grabbed a towel and ran warm water over it and wiped yourself down before repeating the process and bringing the cloth to the bedroom.

He murmured your name, reaching back to stroke your hair when you bent over his back to kiss his neck. “Roll over, baby,” you murmured against his skin. With a groan, he obeyed you, his eyes cracking open to meet your own.

You tenderly wiped his thighs and ass, wary of his hiss of discomfort, meeting his eyes again and only continuing at his nod. You folded the cloth to swipe quickly at his sweaty armpits and chest before you tugged him out of the bed, throwing the blankets (that had luckily been at the foot of the bed) to the floor, stripping the sheets, and removing the bed cover. You turned to tread to the linen closet to grab the extra sheets, turning over your shoulder to see him behind you, butt-naked and tired, coming to help you.

You waited for him to catch up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, continuing to walk to the closet and collecting the sheets. After you’d returned to the bedroom, you struggled to put the fitted sheet on together, threw the flat sheet on top, and reassembled your bed set.

Utterly tired, you collapsed into bed together, your head lying on his chest and feet curled behind you. You turned to press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes closed, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, Rhett.”

He pressed a big, scar-mottled, and calloused hand to your hair and bent to kiss your head: you felt the rumble in his own chest and the swell in your own when he opened his mouth and got nothing coherent out, his “I love you too” sounding more like an “Aluh’y’t…”

#rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbot x female reader #rhett abbott x f!reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott pegging #sub!rhett abbott #sub rhett abbott #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range #outer range smut #az writes

[voxtism]

had a friend make a "haha bad teeth" joke and I went hatred about the American healthcare system mode

id in image description :3

also the text below (just in case tumblr destroys image quality)

its rlly rough for people with bad teeth to get any sort of treatment bc its horrific how very few dentists will accept medicare/medicaid/medical :/ its not just that they have 'meth/drug teeth" or that they "ate too much sugar" its that the healthcare system is designed to fuck over the poor. poverty begets more poverty, and it's so fucking hard to get jobs, even low paying ones, when you have "grew up poor, grew up abused, drug addict" teeth. real life example, when my dad finally got full custody of little my brother, there were literal holes in my baby brothers teeth. my brother was 3 years old. and he was lucky enough for them to be baby teeth, bc that meant pulling them had little long term effect, besides him needing braces later in teen years, but that's just one way that my mother fucked us over. she didnt take care of him, she never brushed his teeth, she didnt feed him, it was all so horrific to learn about years later. and i am afraid to think about what it's like for the kids who... weren't saved. who didn't get out. who couldn't grow up with healthy teeth, who grew up poor, who grew up with parents like my mom. its honestly rlly awful how people consider bad teeth to be a character flaw, or something, when in reality.... its poverty? its lack of access to healthcare?? its the medical system fucking over poor people in every way possible.

obviously i am not mad but i am just thinking a lot about it now

#abuse cw #abuse mention #abuse ment tw #child abuse tw #^safety obviously #I hate the American healthcare system!

[happyk44]

@riordanverse-dorphin, tumblr ate your ask. Luckily I get email notifs so did see it. For others, ask was suggesting if the Neptune kids have/are geared towards SzPD, perhaps Percy (and other Poseidon kids) have/are geared towards Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

I did actually consider it when I was like hmmm 🤔 what would Percy be more prone to, but, lol, set those thoughts aside because of brain fog ahaha. The "emotional rollercoaster" that often describes the disorder also fits the idea that Poseidon is the emotional moody ocean, while Neptune is the uncaring emotionless sea, which is one of the reasons I had been thinking abt it tbh.

Anyway, see my thoughts below!

The description and diagnostic criteria of BPD through the DSM-5:

Borderline personality disorder is described as a pervasive pattern of instability in interpersonal relationships self-image and emotion as well as marked impulsivity beginning by early adulthood.

It is indicated by the five or more of the following symptoms:

A pattern of unstable relationships

A fear of abandonment, whether real or imagined

Instability and insecurity in self-image

Impulsive high risk behavior such as excessive spending, promiscuity or substance abuse

Suicidal behavior or self-harm

Intense mood swings

Chronic feelings of emptiness or sadness

Anger management issues

Stress related paranoia or loss of contact with reality (aka general dissociation, depersonalization or derealization)

Additionally! Here is how ADHD and BPD overlap.

Image source

So how would Percy fit? Further explanation(s) of how the symptoms may presentation in BPD.

Unstable, intense relationships: ❌

While I think we could consider Percy's relationship with Annabeth to be intense, I don't think he really has unstable relationships. His top three relationships - Grover, his mom, Annabeth - are all fairly stable, imo.

Fear of abandonment: ❓

I think this one is up for interpretation. I can't fully recall any specific scenes where he's terrified of being left by his loved ones. But I personally a) think Poseidon has a fear of abandonment, due to the clinginess of the ocean, and b) Percy so very much loves his inner circle - his mom, Grover, Annabeth - that he's terrified of them ever leaving him. This is kind of seen in TTC when he's worried that Annabeth will leave for the Hunters, as well as his refusal to let her go and choosing to fall into Tartarus with her. But one could think of that as being more romance-oriented so 🤷‍♂️ That being said, there's also his "no Grover, do not remove the empathy link" thing that you could side-eye as "I need to keep Grover in my life forever and an empathy link is perfect for that". So for me, it's a check. For others, it's up to interpretation.

Poor self-image: ✔

Percy does not think very highly of himself. The earliest obvious display of that I can think of was in TSoM where he was looking at his "perfect" reflection and thinking about how much better that guy looked. Otherwise he does think of himself as a burden to others, or a bad kid. He also thinks of himself as stupid, even when he's noted to be fairly intelligent when it comes to battle. He has a low self-esteem. While he's improved since the start of the series, much of these feelings are still present.

Rapid mood changes: ✔

Percy has been noted for being unpredictable and moody, like his father. Like I said, the intense mood swings symptom was actually the reason I was considering BPD before because where Neptune is the uncaring sea, Poseidon is the emotional one.

Impulsive and dangerous behaviour: ✔

Yes, it's a check, but it also overlaps with other things. The nature of being a demigod is inherently dangerous. ADHD also lends to impulsive behaviours.

Repeated self-harm or suicidal behaviour: ✔

BoO literally has him talking about being suicidal and wanting to die. He also expresses suicidal thoughts in various spots throughout the series. A lot of other people in the fandom have already spoken about this. Additionally, I headcanon him to self-harm frequently.

Persistent feelings of emptiness/sadness: ❓

Question mark because I'm not sure. I think his feelings of emptiness/sadness would more so related to his suicidal feelings or depression. Additionally, what I get from Percy is that his base emotion is anger. And that's something he does his best to repress. Hazel mentions in one of the books that there's a similar sadness between him and Jason though. So, I guess it's up to you. I personally headcanon Percy as struggling with alexithymia, so for me this would be a check. But for others it may be an X.

Anger issues: ✔

I mean do I even need to explain this one?

Temporary paranoid thoughts and/or dissociation: ❌

Doubtful with this one. I think any paranoid thoughts Percy displays in the series are valid within the context of the going-ons in his life. I mostly relate dissociative behaviours with Jason or Frank too. Dissociative behaviours, such as depersonalization or derealization, may occur when I write him but it's really in relation to him being depressed versus a general "out of body" sense as with the other two.

Also, in researching SzPD, quiet BPD came up a bit. Quiet BPD is not separate from classic BPD. The traits are just noted to be directed inwardly rather than outwardly. They will still experience the intense emotional rollercoaster that distinguishes BPD, but they tend to shut their emotions down or push them aside. More so, their sense of self is marked by shame and/or self-hatred.

So, I think where his outbursts of anger and impulsivity are expressed outwardly, the other traits are kept inwards. He doesn't talk much about his emotions to people. Even in BoO, talking to Jason about being suicidal can appear like an intentional choice, because Jason is not someone he is close with. Also they talk about it in the middle of a fucking battle. It might've been something he needed to verbalize without actually talking about.

Also "Favourite Person" is something that notably occurs in BPD, where a person with BPD becomes heavily reliant on a specific person for emotional support, attention, and validation from. They are often highly idealized and tend to be the center of a person with BPD's focus. Percy's clinginess with Annabeth can kind of come across as this.

Hope that helps! And fingers crossed Tumblr doesn't eat anymore of my asks :)

#happy talks pjo #percy jackson #happy's asks #technically. bc tumblr ate the real ask lmao #but anyway i couldn't tag the blog you sent the ask with? but i know that's your main and the riordanverse one is pjo specific so 👍 #riordanverse-dorphin

[arcann]

Well tumblr ate the ask at the last minute because I guess a draft this long, + an image and links is too much for the hellsite 😔

Jeremiah @tragicomedykitty asked me about my reaper headcanons so here they are! Thank you so much for the ask ❤

This got a lot longer than I thought it would but here are my thoughts and headcanons! Content warnings for discussions of cannibalism, gore and self harm, nothing descriptive though. 

About the usual pact with a voidsent:

In an average communion with a soulstone the reaper doesn't get to choose the voidsent, they send a call to the void and the inhabitants there can choose to accept or reject it. The encyclopedia says it has to be a voidsent that shares an extremely similar soul and I agree but they also imply it's likely part of your ancient counterpart's soul which I only partially use. It just needs to be similar. To me that means that it spent time eating and absorbing or being eaten by the voidsent that shares the reaper’s soul. They leave an impression on each other no matter how many more voidsent they ate (you’re eating another person, they become a part of you, that must be an impactful process). 

The voidsent from lower hierarchies never answer. There is nothing a single being could offer that would satisfy a being as powerful as them. Meanwhile the weakest voidsent don’t understand the call. It’s usually a voidsent from the middle ranks that was killed a short time ago and has come back, searching for a new way to get a constant source of aether.

Canon says it’s just an avatar that reaches through the void, which the reaper has to open every time they need its powers. I changed it so that the voidsent actually becomes a type of parasite/ghost in their body that siphons aether from the reaper, their surroundings or the people they kill. A part of it stays inside the reaper at all times and they have to teach it how to leave their body to attack. Some might be able to leave and roam the source or return to the void if they wish to. However they do submit to the reaper’s will and if they’re under control they will return to their side immediately.

I like to think they prefer to haunt the reaper’s liver when they’re inside them :) 

Their personalities are unpredictable and one takes a lot of risk from the beginning. The reaper can get a beast who wants more and more aether and plans to take over their body and might outright attack them or plot to get back at them in the long run. This type of voidsent think they are owed the reaper’s soul for giving their help. The reaper has to choose if the reason they made the covenant is worth fighting for their soul permanently or decide when it is time to cut the voidsent out before they slip up and lose themselves.

The voidsent that kills their host improves their level in the hierarchy. They’re evidently more powerful but there’s a degree of separation in their soul that doesn’t make them become a fully united being like after the ascians’ Ardors. They take the form of their reaper and can only slightly modify it, but it’s like they’re stuck inside their body still. It counts as possession even if the two beings are more intrinsically tied to one another than the usual necromancy.

The reaper can kill their voidsent but their soul is sundered permanently and their soulstone cracks. If they try to do another pact it won’t respond. This also happens if something else provokes the death of their ally.

They can like you a lot though. You can be friends. They’re just people after all and most are very tired of their immortality. They enjoy the novelty of the Source and having someone that might care for them.

Enshrouding is a very difficult process that requires either complete control over the voidsent or a very solid relationship filled with trust. It should be used in short bursts during combat so that both sides don’t get used to having their souls intertwined in such a way. The more experienced combatants could stay enshrouded for more time but even they should be wary.

Enshrouding modifies the reaper’s body into a shape the voidsent is more comfortable in. If the reaper allows it, the voidsent can “design” this state more thoroughly so their powers can flow easily and their combat aptitude improves. This changes the form the reaper came up with first, which usually looks more like them.

Evil voidsent don’t get to play designer, they will fuck you up and possession will become much more easier if you let them.

This is the moment where the souls of the duo fuse. The process is voluntary so the soul of the reaper becomes denser with the voidsent soul being a perfect match for theirs. It’s a much more powerful bond than when the voidsent absorbs its host.

About Garlean reapers before the empire:

Garleans who become reapers can use aether as any other person would but they can only perform dark aspected magic unless their own voidsent could manipulate other types of magic before they fused. They can be just as powerful as the average mage but they need to siphon more aether from their surroundings or their victims.

Before the empire, there were clans of reapers that would be in charge of roaming around Garlemald to protect other communities. They would live away from them when times were peaceful. People from other clans would sometimes seek them to be granted their powers and they were tested to see if they could survive the process. If they failed a reaper would simply accompany them to solve the problem and pay attention to that area in case another conflict occurred there. If they passed, after their crusade was done and their loved ones were safe they would have to return with the reaper clan that had adopted them. This was done to prevent them from either abusing the rest of the community with their newfound magic or becoming possessed and harming others with no one to stop them.

Elder reapers with more violent and manipulative voidsent became pillars of strength among the clans and they incurred much more respect. Their lives were not easy and their endings were rarely happy but their experience spoke for them and they usually became much more efficient (yet much more stern) mentors.

If two reapers fought to the death it would most likely conclude on partial or complete cannibalism of the defeated party. The logic inside the void is that you eat other voidsent to survive so those old instincts would easily kick in a fight similar to the ones that happen in the 13th. This usually destabilizes the reaper’s relationship with their voidsent and either they would be encouraged to have a long period of reflection or cut their relationship entirely. The reaper clans were careful in keeping the peace inside their group and tried to solve their problems in any other way but combat. 

If the eaten voidsent was very powerful (and the battle was lost due to the eaten reaper’s lower combat experience) the other voidsent might really have to fight to “digest” the enemy and if they are not capable of doing so the eaten one might burst out of the winning reaper, xenomorph style. The host would most likely die unless very quick and powerful magical action was taken, which the garlean reapers had no access to. This was the worst case scenario for a clan.

Cannibalism and necrophagia could also occur when the reaper was losing in combat and nearing death so the voidsent realized the only aether they can take is from corpses or their enemies and a much more direct solution would be to put the aether running through the other bodies inside theirs immediately instead of spending energy siphoning it. The reaper clans looked down on this too but the truth was that the voidsent acted pragmatically and in benefit of their host. Everyone who went through that situation knew the feeling. It was an uncomfortable truth. 

Some voidsent caused only mischief in their free time and  those were the ones that allowed their reapers to grow older much more easily, so they spent more time in the Source. They had myths that turned into oral stories built around them and holidays which would be the garlean equivalent to All Saints’ Wake (FFXIV’s Halloween) and the Roman Lemuria. The empire forbade the celebrations after the assassination attempt against the emperor but Drusilla (the reaper mentor) and her Lemures keep them alive. They’re several and some serve as a commemoration to the reaper clans’ achievements or tragedies while others are for fun.

About reapers during the empire:

When the empire was in its nascent period the reapers were an important part of the military. The frumentarii (imperial spies) were founded by the first reaper clan that swore fealty to Solus and slowly all the clans were involved to some degree of spy work. The soon to be emperor was recognized as a tactical genius and his first strategies in the conquest of Ilsabard would usually involve sending reapers after the heads of important leaders of other countries before the battle began.

Pause to think about reapers in Garlemald’s cringe fail military armor. They really took the L in this period of time.

The few reapers that refused to join the empire were hunted down by black masked ascians or escaped Ilsabard before that happened.

Solus pushed for all the frumentarii to become reapers for a short time but that was a failure in his eyes, they were never enough to push forward all of his plans. The administrative positions and spy work in places where conflict was unlikely had to be filled with the average rank and file. Behind closed doors the demands of the emperor were traumatizing for elder reapers since they sent many young people to very grisly deaths. They didn’t have a cause they believed in and there was no time to train them thoroughly so they got overwhelmed easily and had to be executed. The ones who survived would end up bonding more with their mentors and would easily choose them over the ideals of the empire. 

My headcanon is that Drusilla was one of those younger people but luckily her grandfather Rullus was one of the frumentarii with higher standing so she knew what to expect and stayed with him most of the time. Her voidsent was also friendlier than most and it genuinely wanted to protect her.

Hater intermission: the encyclopedia gave Drusilla a dead husband and child and like 🙄 she’s a lesbian SE I care not for it. She’s officially 52 but I refuse to believe she’s younger than 65. Give me that vintage old woman. She mentions that her grandfather’s hair was black but turned white after the assassination attempt and yet she is shown as a young woman with white hair. Hell no, she had black hair. She also says 20 years ago her grandfather tried to kill Solus because he thought the cunt was going too far but by then Garlemald had completely conquered Ilsabard, most of western Othard and Ala Mhigo. He would have gone too far so many decades ago. Also Emet clearly doesn’t look 68 in the flashback. 

Enjoyer intermission: they did describe Rullus as the greatest reaper ever. I like that the tyrannicidal guy who saw Emet’s nonstop push for conquest and was like “oh fuck” was the mvp. 😎

SO… Drusilla Varus, the 65 year old lesbian living in Ul’dah who used to have black hair but it turned white because that’s what happens when you get older, ten years after the 7th Umbral Calamity, tells Taigat that 40 years ago, when she was 25, her grandfather Rullus, the most powerful reaper of his age, had to accept that he was getting old and everything around him had taken a turn for the worse. He had to recognize that the Empire's purpose had never been to stop their conquest at the reclamation of Locus Amoenus, and even that had never been a good reason for the atrocities committed. All of Ilsabard was under imperial control and western Othard would soon follow once progress with more powerful magitek was achieved. It was only a matter of time and in his conscience were thousands of deaths that now seemed evidently unnecessary. Maybe some of it had been the influence of his voidsent Orcus, always eager for more violence but if so that would have meant Rullus had been losing control over his companion for an unknown amount of time. In any case the responsibility was in his hands and he had to make a huge change while he could do something.

Orcus was a very powerful yet difficult voidsent. He plotted to make Rullus kill more than he intended so the man had to keep complete control over him all the time. However, as Rullus got older and questioned more of his own actions, his grip faltered and it gave Orcus room to think. 

Even if the impulses Orcus pushed forward were very subtle, Rullus decided to plot the assassination of the emperor on his own because of him. In the voidsent’s mind either he ate the emperor after killing legions of his men and sent an entire country to the brink or he would finally consume Rullus, as revenge for stifling him for decades.

Rullus was desperate to prove that his foolish dream of watching his people returning to the land they were ousted from hadn’t been twisted by a man who was building a monster worse than the one that clawed at his mind, that he could stop Solus from tearing down more nations and he was being eaten away with the guilt of everything he had done, so he was in a very precarious mental state.

The assassination did not go as either of them expected. By then, Emet Selch had already figured out that reapers were a thing of the past, a volatile element to be discarded and replaced as soon as possible. Garleans should look only at its military for protection, not at ghosts looming in the edges of society. The attack was the perfect excuse for him to denounce every reaper as traitors to be hunted.

For that Solus needed to kill him in a… public yet controlled space. He easily pushed back Rullus’ assault in the privacy of his palace’s chambers but ran away until his tribuni found them locked in fierce combat. After a bloody fight the surviving soldiers thought they had killed him but in reality Orcus had already taken control of Rullus and was playing dead. He could tell he wasn’t capable of defeating the paragon so he chose to have his revenge against his master. Emet knew he was pretending but outside of keeping Rullus’ soulstone he didn't bother to finish the abomination. Alone, voidsent don’t take on a challenge where the odds aren’t in their favor. It worked for the emperor because while he was publicly executing reapers, Orcus slipped into the darkness and began hunting Rullus’ remaining clan members. Without any warning (since Rullus told no one what he was planning) the reapers in service of the empire were massacred.

My headcanon is that the Magitek Reapers were developed a short while later and either Solus or someone who wanted to please him named them as a nod to the elimination of the traitors. The empire never loses anything, it improves and evolves. 

So in my timeline Rullus never returns to Drusilla since he died fighting Solus. When Orcus attacked, he ate her parents in front of her, taunted her with the fact that the emperor was so much more than a man who would destroy everything she loved and decided to kill her last, by slowly siphoning her aether. This was all because in life she was the person Rullus loved the most and Orcus thought it was insulting to use his powers to protect her for decades. When it was her turn, he didn’t notice that he exhausted the energy of Drusila’s voidsent instead of hers and while he killed it, she lived through the attack, barely. She is the only survivor of that clan and she didn’t know if any other reaper got away. 

About Drusilla specifically:

Drusilla took the soulstones she could find of her clan and her grandfather’s ancestral scythe (which Orcus couldn’t care for in the least) and ran west. It didn’t take Orcus too long to figure out she was still alive so he hunted her from time to time until he just grew bored or she managed to escape without his noticing. In the beginning she would make new friends that ended up in her enemy’s claws or his thralls. After that there was a period of her life where she gave up on living with other people but she slowly accepted that deep inside her she wanted to be in a group she could call her family and she never gave up on the idea. 

She never really forgave Rullus for not trusting her or anyone in their clan with his insurgency and when she was younger she blamed him for what happened. She now understands that thinking on what ifs just hurts her more but she is right that more people would have survived if they had all been involved, even if there was no way to defeat the emperor. Still, she misses him the most and Orcus mutilating his body more and more as time goes by didn’t help.

Ul’dah was the almost perfect place for her to keep Orcus away since the arid city filled with light was antithetical to the voidsent. Both Drusilla and Rullus preferred cold places and the abomination apparently adopted those preferences. Meanwhile Drusilla adapted and began to unite garlean remnants that had escaped the empire one way or another and took them all under her wing. She finally had a base of operations but still misses the colder weather. 

Besides, Ul’dah is filled with people who know how to deal with voidsent (thaumaturges), people who would be eager to uno reverse Orcus and start a huge hunt for his head to gain fame (gladiators) and people honor bound to kill voidsent if they knew one had entered the city (paladins) so he has to think twice before alerting those groups. Drusilla would never ask for help from any of them but she could hide her nature better, especially since she doesn’t have a voidsent with her anymore and Orcus wanted to stay as he was more than he wanted to toy with her.  

However, Orcus did make killings around Eorzea to show that he was still waiting for her to slip up. Drusilla investigated the murders that sounded suspicious like she did with Gridania but she only managed to catch his minions. Orcus probably slayed the most people in Ala Mhigo because an elite mark is named after him (like. they retconned the used name so it would be his namesake) and Drusilla wouldn’t be able to reach that area before Stormblood happened.

She wouldn’t accept payment since in her mind it’s her fault the murder had happened in the first place, so Drusilla would let herself be hired as an assassin for the people close to the Syndicate that could pay for her services to make ends meet. She never worked for the actual members because she didn’t want to risk being investigated thoroughly and becoming a public enemy which would ruin what she had built for the Lemures. By 1582 she had a reputation in the ul'dahn underworld but she was in no way infamous, and that’s how she liked it. 

She told every member of the Lemures about her decades old conflict with Orcus. She wouldn’t want them to think she was tricking them into getting into something actually dangerous. No one left after they learned the risk. I think they romanticize her quite a bit after they knew of her crusade. 

This is not about me romanticizing her 😳

About the reaper sidequest:

Orcus thought kidnapping Drusilla inside the Lemures’ base to get her and Taigat was worth leaving a huge trail to follow plus it was incredibly horrifying for everyone in the room.

In my timeline, the other scions need a lot of time to heal from being in the First so Taigat spent half of that time with Drusilla and when she was abducted they stayed with the Lemures to search for her without other distractions.

Orcus dragging her to Dusk Vigil at the reaper’s story’s climax always had those “it looks meaningful but maybe I’m reading too much into it” vibes because it's the closest thing Eorzea has to Garlemald’s climate and it has a story of failed rebellions against people who abuse their power, cannibalism and possession. Puts the mic on the reaper quest’s writer was this on purpose???? Please answer my emails and calls asap. Still Orcus sees it as the perfect setting to reenact Rullus’ death.

Anecdote intermission: First time I did the final mission I made Taigat cross the Coerthas Western Highlands from south to north in their Nightmare mount without flying. It felt so badass and I’ve done it the two times I’ve run through the storyline. (flying through that area looks like a nightmare anyway). 

Taigat does go alone once they reach that point for the same conclusion as in canon: they’re the only one who can use magic and have combat abilities able to match Orcus. The Lemures are mostly civilians and the few exceptions have never seen close combat with that type of monster.

Insane to me that Orcus took out her eye. Anyway I made it so that he was mocking Taigat’s missing eye but also to taunt her about how she lost Arnegis so close to her base that she was losing sight of the real danger out there. Anyway we hate Orcus in this house, we kill him with hammers, we let Drusilla decapitate his musty ass.

Afterwards the Lemures insist a lot on doting her and letting her rest, sort of implying she should retire and they would take care of her. She’s like “why the hell would I retire” and keeps hunting voidsent that scare the nearby settlements when she feels better. Soon after the war ends and although the animosity against garleans won’t be gone for a long time they can be certain that at least one of their enemies is gone. 

Now more specific Taigat and the voidsent blorbo headcanons:

Taigat had a lot of aetherical imbalances after absorbing the lightwardens and even while united with Ardbert their body wouldn’t get used to having a stronger leaning into the light aspect. I think the symptoms were fatigue and faintness along with prolonged pain from their old battle injuries. They also would not react as quickly as they were used to and wouldn’t reach their usual power levels with magic. 

They didn’t want it to get out of control in the worst moment so they needed something that would grant them more dark aspected magic to compensate. Drusilla’s proposal was really interesting to them since they had already dealt with someone being inside their body and reaching a point of harmony with them. 

Drusilla was hoping Taigat would attract a very powerful voidsent but instead they got one of the middling tier and she was a bit wary that it could drag them back during their training. She changed her mind when she watched them fight Orcus and how adequately they acted the first time they merged. Afterwards she suggests Taigat that they give it a bit more freedom to design a more powerful enshrouded form.

At first the voidsent didn’t talk much. That was because it had been eaten for a very, very, long time. No one listened to it and its sense of self was maladjusted so it took a while to get out of that mindframe. It understood that it was undertaking a covenant with Taigat, it just didn’t realize by then how many more privileges it would have in this new state.

It very much enjoys the freedom and the power that comes with being partnered with the warrior of light. In the beginning it got very excited easily. It might choose to never eat Taigat. No well, maybe it might. Well, not really. Maybe. noitwont. It just gets to bite them real hard, as a treat.

The voidsent loves to eat like an average living being and its favorite food are rolanberries, especially when Taigat cooks them into a pie just for it. 

When they’re bored Taigat pulls the tips of their cloak and watches it wobble around in the air. It does that just to amuse them.

It always supports Taigat’s first impulses and more improper wishes. If they’re embarrassed maybe they should listen to that part of them that wants to run out of the room and cry where no one is watching. If they finally reunite with someone they missed a lot, they should run to them and hug them as much as they want, ignoring that they need to make a speech in front of the troops and there’s a battle ahead or that just isn’t the relationship they have with that person.

Maybe Fray would have liked the voidsent, once. Now he’s just bothered that Taigat will one day start listening to it and take it seriously so if the knight does appear he dismisses most of its ideas with a glare.

Taigat told it early on that they would be given it a name but when it felt ready to pick one for itself then it could choose a different one, following Viera tradition. Its name is Ageusia. For now.

The voidsent doesn’t care much for its new name but it answers when called. It enjoyed the act of being named more than having it.

Ageusia spent millenia being a part of Scathach and momentarily inside Diabolos Hollow when he absorbed her. It remembers some of their memories as if they were its own. It likes to pretend the acts of terror the nobility enacted were done by its own hand and it loves to exaggerate its influence over them. It has forgotten most of its life and who it was before the 13th fell to darkness.

In my timeline the Shadow of Mhach raids were done by Dyulgor, Taigat’s father, around 80 years before the beginning of ARR. Dyulgor was marked by the experience and he sort of inherited those injuries to Taigat, like shades in their souls to put it metaphorically. Both of them have a much easier time using dark aspected magic and in the voidsent’s senses they can wield a power similar to Scathach. 

Ageusia was expelled from Hollow Diabolos’ body after his death and wandered the void with many difficulties. When Taigat bonded with their soulstone, Ageusia, who was just a leftover of Scathach, saw those shades in Taigat’s call, and itself reflected on them. That’s why it was a viable candidate for Taigat.

After the reaper storyline, Drusilla knew their path would take them back to Garlemald and there really wasn’t a better weapon she could give Taigat but her grandfather’s, the death sickle. She didn’t say it but she hoped that scythe would be the one to kill Solus’ heir and Taigat got the message. They have always wanted to impress her so they silently swore it would be done, truly this time around.

Taigat briefly thought about hiding the voidsent’s existence from others but they know they suck at lying and with the scions it gets worse, plus he just came back from surviving the consequences of Urianger and G’raha hiding things from the group so after Werlyt they just came out and told them. 

Before that, the first person outside of the Lemures that he told was Cid, a bit after the Ruby Weapon had appeared in Ghimlyt Dark. 

Still undecided about how Taigat tells Gaius but I’m leaning on Cid recommending they do not tell him because he was there when Rullus tried to kill Solus. The irony when they reach a point where everyone but him knows makes me smile like a shark. And it hurts because I’m thinking the ghost of Alfonse inside the diamond weapon is the one to tell him. 

Ageusia is busy redesigning their enshrouded form inside Taigat’s body so they have to fight as a dragoon when dealing with the first three Ultima Weapons.

The first person they fought with their improved enshrouded form was Gaius and the diamond weapon. Ageusia got mad they couldn’t brag about how good they beat them. Taigat as expected, felt torn to shreds.

After Werlyt was free and the scions were back from the eorzean version of soul physiotherapy, Tataru made a little meet and greet party and all the scions got to shake the voidsent’s hand. It was awkward af and no one was too pleased but they couldn’t deny that Taigat looked much more healthy than the last time they had reunited.

Taigat’s enshrouded form looks very different in my imagination and to be honest I’m sometimes undecided about the details but the big themes in their look are sharp teeth, the moon and stained glass. Scathach is obviously an inspiration, as well as… Bloodborne’s Moon Presence. Here’s another inspiration. [body horror cw]

About Zenos:

Everyone and their grandma’s neighbor’s cat knows I don’t like Zenos but I do find him choosing to become a reaper interesting. The shb patches was the only time the story made me wish we could learn more about him and watching him blunder in ew was. Well... At least the possession quest was creepy. Because of his crazy scientist from Stormblood, not him. Whatever man I gave him a chance. You’re about to enter my hater’s dungeon… A bit. I just added a bunch of decor but his fate stays pretty much the same. Whom care.

Zenos picked the scythe because he knew a reaper was one of the first rebels to attempt to dethrone his great grandfather and the one that got closest to doing so. He thinks that reapers lost their strength by becoming covert assassins and if they had focused on honing their skills to fight against large groups of people they would have had the upper hand. The scythe is, after all, one of the weapons that causes the enemy as much damage and pain as fast as possible. And he finds it amusing that a tool meant to care for the land was transformed into a weapon of violence and fear. They wasted their power in his opinion.

Fandaniel shares with him more secrets the reapers kept to themselves and finds Rullus’ soulstone in the palace’s treasure vaults for him to use. Before Zenos makes a covenant Fandaniel tells him the chosen voidsent is one that is possibly their 13th counterpart from the same ancient’s soul and he offers to focus the call on the most powerful voidsent available. Zenos refuses and orders him to call for the strongest voidsent that mirrors the soul of Taigat. That turns out to be Zero. 

Future lore wondering intermission: I will probably get contradicted on this but I do want Zero to be Azem’s shard in the 13th. I will be open to their explanation when the time comes because who would have guessed they could turn around Ardbert like that but if I don’t like it I have a backup plan. thx z-nos. For now these headcanons will treat Zero as part of Azem.

I think Fandaniel was very normal about finding out the Warrior of Light used to be his beloved Prometheus by enslaving a part of them to a man he thought was beneath him by virtue of being Emet Selch’s heir. Thousands of years later and he still manages to find ways to hurt Metti without even trying. He hides it though. He’s so fucking normal. (Hermes and Azem were together in my timeline)

Zenos’ control over Zero is much more violent and intentionally sadistic on his part than when a reaper makes a covenant with a treacherous voidsent. Here there are no similarities between the souls so Zero is forced to assimilate to his own, modifying her own body and spirit to somehow find a way to enshroud with him. If anything he’s the one possessing and designing her. She could never rebel against him. On the top three misogynist Zenos moments.

I think in the “choosing a weapon” scene he picked a scythe that was used as a trophy but Fandaniel forged him a completely new one built especially for him.

Zenos was thrilled when he was informed that by virtue of choosing to become a reaper he was offending Taigat and in the dinner scene the conversation takes a turn with Taigat not really controlling their anger well and screaming at the wall about how he’s bringing dishonor to the people who learned how to live with voidsent to protect the people they loved and that he’s nothing but a cosplayer. The garlean wall does not care.

In my timeline, Zenos in Taigat’s body does manage to get inside the Broken Glass Camp but given that he openly attacks Alisaie and G’raha (Alphinaud shields them quickly enough so they’re fine. healer W) they have a town shootout against Zenos. He could have won if he had learned how to sneak around. There are several dead and wounded but Maxima, the guy Fandaniel told Zenos to target since he’s the main advocate for garlean remnants, survives.

On to their final battle: Taigat eats him. 

Ageusia takes several bites out of Zenos after he lands a few hits on Taigat (which amount to them not being cut in half only because the voidsent held them together) but once he’s defeated they do eat him. Fucked up fugue moment Taigat internalizes and doesn’t tell anyone about for months. It heals them just enough to not immediately drop dead. They should have stayed in bed with the best Sharlayan doctors nearby for months.

Now about the most recent history:

Zero could have outright consumed Ageusia and make Taigat blow up if she hadn’t been bonded to the most fucked up reaper in history for months. She has to deal with her own sundered essence and it takes a great deal of energy to heal herself bit by bit while also stopping Ageusia’s attempts to consume her. World’s worst food intoxication.

Reminding everyone that this is my house so Ultima Thule is actually Athena’s wrapped up dimension in outer space where nothing and no one gets out. Zero would have been trapped if Zenos had just been left there. This had to happen. I made it so oops.

Taigat didn’t know what was happening but their voidsent barely responded and soon enough it stopped being able to leave their body while the viera felt pain through it. Despite the long period of repose they feel weaker and weaker. 

The only one they told about it was Gaius. How the tables turned…

When things get much, much worse they leave Terncliff (don’t ask them what they were doing on Terncliff, don’t tell them they should be in Sharlayan, don’t remind them there’s probably a rescue team searching all over Eorzea going crazy just for them) and just tear themselves open with a knife, where their liver is.

You all have watched the first silent hill movie right? Of course you have. Huge thing for me. And literally no one else. Anyway, the way Rose gets stabbed on purpose to let Alessa inside the church? Big inspiration.

Instead of blood, Zero’s essence comes out, slowly remaking herself into the corrupted form Zenos gave her. She’s just as weak as Taigat so when Gaius finds them he easily slays Zero, which sends her back to the void.

Drusilla couldn’t even imagine that Taigat would encounter a reaper so close to their power level so she didn’t tell them about the possible cannibalism situation. She did tell them not to lose their nerve if they were in a dire situation and the voidsent took a bite from their enemies, but not that it could happen to them. She felt terrible after Taigat asked her about it, months later.

Before that however, they brought back Rullus’ scythe and his soulstone as a gift, which Drusilla appreciated very much. Taigat fulfilled their little wish of impressing her. *final fantasy victory tune*. The Lemures made a little homecoming party and celebrated Drusilla having a part of her grandfather back. It’s sweet to me that, outside of Fray and his unique situation, Drusilla is the mentor Taigat feels closest to. 

And that’s most of it! If you went through all that, thank you for reading!

#oc: taigat #rel: hurt suffer heal #h.h.

[rjalker]

My Flatland characters size comparisons and the main scene in the short story.

Anyways. Flatland is public domain, so you can download it or read it online for free here from Project Gutenberg.

And you can listen to an audiobook version here on the Web Archive.

And here's another audiobook version here on Youtube.

There's a lot more audiobook versions you can find, those are just the first two links that showed up.

Do not give your money to Amazon or anything buying ebook versions of this book. They're literally free. You should only be paying money if you're buying a physical copy.

Anyways I had just typed out a whole nice summary of Flatland's social structure for those who haven't read it yet but tumblr just ate it. And I have to redo the image descriptions too. Sigh.

Anyways. Long story short: The wider your angles, the higher your social status Under the Current Regime, which is super fascist and that's the point. It's a dystopia.

The lowest class is literally called the Criminal class. It is made up of Irregular shapes, aka, disabled people, and polygons with angles of less than 10 degrees. They have no rights at all. Lets just stop there.

The second lowest class is made up of Lines, who are classified as Women. They likewise have no rights, and have a ton of restrictions placed on them to control their movements.

Just above Lines are Isosceles triangles, who are forced to be Soldiers, aka canon fodder.

The lowest three classes are routinely murdered en-masse to stop them from revolting, with many schemes in place to keep them in-fighting instead of fighting together against their oppressors.

The middle class is made up of equal-sided triangles.

The upper-middle class is made up of squares.

The more sides you have, the higher your rank, the more money and privilege you have, until you get up to the circles, who have declared themselves the rulers.

That's the basics. Anyways.

It's very funny to me that the Kel-lite official website uses a free font I use to make neopronoun pins.

[ID: An MS Paint drawing showing three characters represented by solid black geometric shapes on a white background. Each is pointed upward, with thin colored lines crossing above them to mark their relative heights. From left to right, they are: Flyssa, a line with sharp points on either end, with an angle of zero degrees, who is the shortest. Dearg, an isosceles triangle with an angle of three degrees, who is slightly taller than Flyssa. Last in Leitenant Kellite, an equal-sided triangle with an angle of sixty degrees, who is the tallest. Flyssa and Dearg's names are written in the font "Midnight", which is all caps, at a slight angle. Lieutenant Kellite's name is written in the font "Just Another Hand", which is thin and curved like casual handwriting. End ID.]

[ID: The same characters as above, now in a scene with a dark grey background. Rather than being solid black, their insides are now primarily red-purple, with dark blue and red lines and shapes for their stomachs and nerve endings. The rest of the drawing is in various shades of grey or black. Around the edges of their bodies are thin cilia like cells have. Lieutenant Kellite is sitting across a short table from Dearg in the center of the image, with Flyssa at the top, looking at Lieutenant Kellite. On the table is an almost-empty, knocked over bottle, and a half-empty bowl of fruit gelletin. Lieutenant Kellite is using his cilia to pick up peices of fruit and throw them over his "shoulder" so they fall to the floor at the bottom of the image. He is thinking to himself, "Who puts pineapple in pudding???". The bowl in front of him is half empty, with most of its contents in his stomach, where he ate two pieces of fruit before deciding he didn't like it. The wine from the empty bottle, and some other peices of food are also visible in his stomach above the dessert. Dearg and Flyssa share the same thought bubble, thinking, "There goes all our rations for the month…" Dearg's stomach has some food visible in it. Flyssa's is too small to see. There is a black border for a wall around the drawing, with a wide doorway leading off-screen on the left side, a very thin one on the right, and another thin one on the bottom right. End ID.]

Yes this is a very long post for two small drawings. I'm incapable of not explaining things.

#Neopronouns in Action 062 #Rjalker writes Neopronouns in Action 062 #Flatland #Rjalker's OCs #Flatland OCs #Flyssa of Ib-Wa #Dearg of Ib-Wa #Lieutenant Kellite the Configurationist #described images #long post

[your-nanas-house]

Hello!!! Long time no see, how are you doing good I hope. I would like to request a Jeremiah fic it can be smut or fluff I don't really care. I have been on a Jeremiah kick lately. Lol. I feel like I have read about every Jeremiah fic on Tumblr lol. Any way bye, and have a nice rest of your day!!!😊

Hii!! Thank you, have a nice rest of your day too! Hope you like the next part of the series 😌

Can't stop thinking

Pairing: professor!Jeremiah Valeska X student!Reader

Warnings: mention of stalking, handjob, smut, description, underwear

Words: 872

Summary: Jeremiah can't stop thinking at his student.

Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This is another part of the series 'His student'.

The images of Y/n's undressed body had not yet left Jeremiah's mind as he found himself the same evening in his bed with his hand hidden in his pajama pants while groaning her name arching his back imagining to be in her company.

He did not know how he had managed to look her in the eyes the next day but he did and it did not cause him embarrassment rather only arousal that was thankfully hidden by the desk; he was more distracted than usual and that was not good since he still had to correct all the projects that the class had handed him, he did manage but stopped when the name 'Y/n Y/l/n' appeared, a soft sigh escaped his lips while he thought back to her, closing his eyes losing himself again.

Y/n's shirt ended up on the floor too and Jeremiah now had his obsession in underwear in the foreground, black lace panties and a push-up bra of the same color and material, the man's hazel eyes couldn't move simply daydreaming of being able to touch and see her with even less but his dream was interrupted when he heard the roommate's voice again "so? what do you think you're doing?" there was a shrug while Y/n bent down to pick up something showing her ass right in Jeremiah's direction "Didn't you have something to do, a meeting with your boyfriend Brandon?" Y/n's y/e/c gaze met that of her roommate who huffed remembering it complaining until she was out of the room leaving Y/n and Jeremiah alone in the student dormitory, the student was still distracted and the young man took that moment to try to escape freezing as soon as his hand was on the doorknob and he heard her voice "Are you leaving so soon, professor?" the flushed face of Jeremiah turned slowly to see Y/n now seated posed on the bed, her legs slightly apart and her lower lip between her teeth while she ate him with her eyes.

Jeremiah didn't have time to say anything before his back hit the door due to the push given by the girl who had now stood up and was standing in front of him, her hands were on his chest caressing the fabric of his shirt as she admired the embarrassment of being discovered that was presented on her engineering professor's face "Do you think I hadn't noticed you under the bed? The short strip show I did was for you" she murmured in his ear while standing slightly on her tippy toes, then kissing his jaw playfully nibbling his skin "M-Miss Y-Y/l/n it wasn't my-" his own apology was interrupted by a moan that escaped his lips as soon as he felt her lips against his skin, sucking his sweet spot while her hands traveled exploring his body "No need for unnecessary apologies.... Mr. Valeska."

Her sly and hungry y/e/c eyes met the hazel ones of Jeremiah who swallowed remaining watching her waiting for her next move which came very soon, her hand that was still playing with the fabric of his shirt at the height of his V-line, after opening his vest, moved quickly slipping into his pants groping his boner as she pressed herself against him, biting her lower lip aroused as well, her still covered boobs were against his chest, if Jeremiah would look down he could see her hard nipples, her bare leg between his as she continued groping feeling him grow and harden against her hand, action that made her moan softly while purring "what are you hiding that is so big, Mr. Valeska? " she whispered slipping her hand into his underwear grabbing his length after slowly licking her hand without stopping staring into his eyes, she began to stroke him feeling the soft skin and veins decorating it, groans came out louder and louder from Jeremiah's mouth while he stared at her with his mouth slightly open, sparks of pleasure indoned his body as she quickened her pace, moving his hands so that he could grab her ass and hold her tightly against himself without her stopping to pleasure him until she felt his length twitch and release.

Jeremiah's eyes snapped open, his hand still around his cock, his hair messy and his face flushed, fogged glasses and pants dirty again, a loud sigh escaped his lips as he occupied himself with cleaning up the mess he had made again before he started correcting the last projects trying not to think about his student in her underwear or in a shirt showing her erect nipples when it was cold, he also tried not to imagine what was under her clothes and underwear.

As soon as he finished all the things he had to do he took a quick glance at the file that Ecco had made for him on the roommate of his obsession before going to sleep holding under his pillow the little prize he had taken when he had been in her dorm room without her knowing, smiling at the thought that the next day he would see her again in his class.

Taglist:

@gabile18

@mrsfullbuster500

@trainer--taylor

@elizamalfoyy

@eovjjj

@animefan3223

@jeremiah-va1eska

@gothamchic16

@rabbiteggz

@dieg0brandos-wife

@rottenecstasy

@lazyexcuse

@teh-vampire-bunny

@lobotomy-lover

#gotham x reader #gotham #gotham tv #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah x reader #ecco gotham #jeremiah valeska x you #jeremiah valeska smut

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex's Blossom By Kate Winborne Annotations.

Hello, hello, hello! SO! This has been a project that I have been working on since August of 2022. I have been re-reading and annotating Blossom by Kate Winborne or @xmichaelmyers here on tumblr. I love Blossom, it is a fantastic book and when the hardcover update came out I just had to get it! So I did and when I did I thought why not write my thoughts out as I go? I have never annotated a book before. Kate didn’t ask this of me, I am not being paid, this is purely out of the sheer love I have for Kate, her work and these characters. So! Settle in and watch me scream in a spoiler heavy annotation of Blossom. Seriously I talk about spoilery things, if you haven’t read it and want to than please read the book first. 

I am going to annotate the next book After The Lamb Bites Back in smaller chunks as I go when I start reading it soon and will post them here on my blog so you can experience my going insane as it is happening! I will give notice and give this a tag if you wanna blacklist for spoilers! Now, under the cut, let’s get into it! Warnings for me being horny on main and discussions of heavy topics and violence and gore. (P.S. Food is a big thing in this book so I outline what I ate before and during and after my reading sessions to be extra.)

—

Starting at 7:41 PM on August 5th. Blossom Re-read of the hardcover edition. Dinner: Chili lime fish tacos with pickled red onions, salsa and chipotle mayo, drinking whisky and ginger ale over ice, snacking on while reading, salted caramel caramilk bar. 

What Kate wrote inside the cover is still so sweet. As is the foreword, so much love and so much excitement. 

Prolog:

The opening of the women watching their daughters in the park, still hits. That is the first thing from the book I ever read when Kate started posting and it still stands out so well. I want white wine and cheese now. 

It is wild how Kate can drop a fucking line about a throw away character, one we just meet, overdosing three hours later, someone we know nothing of and should not give a fuck about and are made to feel and care. Amazing, haunting, I feel bad for his son. 

THE WHORE IS HERE.

THE TREES KNOW MORE THAN THEY DARE SAY INDEED!

–

Chapter One

–

I love the description of us truly seeing him, it is so evocative. Also. I am weak. Professor Williamson, has such a good ring to it. 

Henry in the showerrrr. All of that is good but the man just going for it and getting off. Amazing image, ten outta ten. 

The man eating one packet of oatmeal and not even finishing it and whiskey for dinner while watching a nature show. This man. He needs someone to cook for him. I am that someone. 

The first sex scene of the book, Henry taking home a woman from Happy’s is short but vivid. A great insight into him. Henry is not satisfied by this encounter, to me, when reading it, the impression that she is seemingly so into it, so close and intimate, doesn’t make him feel comforted or seen, but rather the opposite. It makes him feel more hollow, more aware of the hunger inside of himself. This is one of the parts I kept thinking about knowing this re-read was coming. Henry is entirely unknowable, this woman and her illusion of closeness only serves to remind him of that. No one can know him, there are things about him that no one could ever understand and so he has to hide them, forget about the fact that he does NOT have the ability to allow someone so close to him or tolerate such vulnerability and honesty and emotional intimacy. What a lonely fucking guy. 

The detail of a single hair left behind that he curls around his finger until it breaks really stands out.

He’s got a new casssse!

—

Chapter Two.

—

The casual and consistent use and description of colours is one of my longest standing faves in this book. So effective! 

Henry shoving the bible into the nightstand out of sight? Fucking same dude. My guy!

The man packing the alcohol in his bag so fucking neatly to make sure it is safe. To then get drunk and pass the fuck out. He is not okay.

Ahhhhh this discription of The Town is so fucking good!

“-residing alongside the trauma that coated her tongue like honey, sweet as ripe tangerines, but bitter against the back of her throat like coffee grounds.”  I still think of this line often. It will pop into my head unbidden frequently.

—

Chapter Three.

—

Henry looking down at his medication with disdain before swallowing them down with cold coffee making me like, hey king you need to talk? Need your dick sucked? You know my number get at me.

I would eat at this hotel's breakfast. I really would. 

Blossom is officially here! Vanilla almond milk latte, as someone who has worked in coffee shops since seventeen on and off, reads as a very her drink. 

I have always really loved the description of Bethany. The detail of her avocado socks always stuck out. Considering the use of colour Kate applies throughout the whole book I know I should think of them being just the colour avocado, but part of me likes to think of them as printed with little cartoon avocados and that is cute as fuck and I love it. 

Blossom sees Henry for the very first time! God, the excitement I feel from this is far too much! 

“She wanted to crack him open like an egg, spool through his brains, his guts, burrow herself deep inside his roughness. As if there was a safety to it all. A home in all that damage.” The first line that really hooked me my first read and it still hits. It is a line just so full of, God, promise of so much shit to come.

Henry met Sophie and this time around, I feel differently about it just her saying that nothing bad has ever happened in this town is just, infuriating? On a deep level. Nothing bad has ever happened here? Really Soph? Not even in your own home? You fuck.

I am begging, begging the people in The Town to acknowledge the horrors in front of them as if I am Charlie Day in It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia ranting about Pepe Silvia.  

Sophie seeing Blossom staring and being like “Please, for once, PLEASE-” and Blossom being like “Ahahaha, no! <3.” Adore it.

—

Chapter Four.

—

Norman has arrived. He wants a steak before seven thirty. This man is an animal and not in the good way. Henry’s reaction is appropriate for once, I too, am disgusted.

Stop judging Sophie! The man BARELY eats, he needs all the nutrition he can get! Let him have his fucking raspberry pie and ice cream!

Discussion of the first two murders. Henry is much too excited by the prospect of a serial killer, which bitch, same?!

Henry going into the detail of the first real gruesome crime scene he was sent to like damn, DAMN! FUCK KATE!

Henry talking shop! About the pattern, how confident, talking about the killer being addicted, the parallels. Mannnn. 

PROLONGED EYE CONTACT!

Finished reading for tonight at 10:11 PM. 60 pages covered this first session. 

—

Wednesday August 10th. Second session. Starting at 9:20 Pm. Off tomorrow. Dinner: Peanut and sesame noodles with chilli oil and green onion. More whiskey with ginger ale over ice. Snacking on hot cheetos and a crispy caramel kit-kat while reading. 

—

Chapter Five.

—

Oh the HOSPITAL! YES!

Tv is on a cooking channel because of course it is. 

Henry just cutting the small talk short asdfghjkajshglakhdg, “Take me to the bodies FRANK-” And Frank being like “If you got the stomach for it.” Like Frank. Honey. You know nothing of this man. 

Henry being totally unfazed by the smell of the dead. This man is not okay. (This will be said many times throughout this.) 

Why, why, why do I love this passage so much? Talking about how Henry looks over the body? The image is so crystal clear. It is almost like I am in the room. Like I can smell the bleach as I look over his shoulder, watching as he inspects the cadaver below him, watching how the bright harsh lighting catches on the cold thick blood clotting between his gloved fingers? I can see Henry at this moment. Like I could just reach out and touch him. How can something like this be written in a way that is so telling, so intimate yet so detached? It is captivating as hell. Just like Henry himself.  This was another moment during my first read though that made me want to know more about him.

“Coffee, yeah. Thanks.” That is such a human moment that just reeks of reality. A phrase I have heard uttered a million times in my line of work and I can hear how it was said perfectly. The little details really make this. 

Shit coffee indeed, let me make this man a good cup of coffee PLEASE-

He needs a fresh body!!!

—-

Chapter Six.

—-

Man is so particular about his coffee honestly I love what it adds to his character. It says SO much by saying so little. 

Oh my God and Mr.Clemmington was a cook.

Henry hating small talk makes so much sense. What an asshole. Love him.

Name drop! Blossom James ooooohhh.

“Anyway, I hope no girl in this town is capable of such a thing…” Oh giiiirlll. You don’t know shit about shit. 

Henry taking his pills with leftover coffee with cigarette ash in it like SIR can you PLEASE take care of yourself even just a little?!

Henry, you need more than dry cereal for dinner. 

—

Chapter Seven.

—

Henry’s breakfast, coffee, cigarettes and fucking twizzlers apparently. 

Watching him at work is captivating. Henry rattling off what should be done and in what order is justttt a sickening delight. What a freak.

Ethan is missing. And Henry is a little too defensive. “I didn’t say anything.” Mmmhmmm. You didn’t have to. 

—

Chapter Eight.

—

Henry deadass like “We are looking for a body-” and Norman just, “Oh you’d like that sooooo much wouldn’t you?!” Uh. Yeah. Duh dude, he’s the worst. 

Ethan and Blossom went out, eh? Oooh boy. 

This chapter is short but so fucking gooood. I love how they haven’t even formally met and he is getting frustrated by her! The build up and teasing before we really get to know her is just so fucking delicous.

—

Chapter Nine.

—

The description of the hotel’s restaurant is another stand out. I can imagine myself sitting there, smelling the vanilia of the candles and partaking in the food, almost as if I can taste the vegetable medley myself. 

I love Blossom's dress, periwinkle is an underrated colour and the meaning of her wearing it here, tonight, during their first official meeting is not lost on me and the impact is strong.

They are sitting, they are talkING-

Blossom clearly has thoughts about Ethan. I can hear the bite of the way she says ‘Golden boy’ and it is telling. 

“Henry.” Whore. Him. Not her. He is the whore. Like call me Henry, the fuck IS that?! Asking her to use your first name? Mmm? Already so informal? Like a slut? Have you no shame?

“Picky with your food.” “If you’d call it that.” The TENSION! I’ve already read this before but I am still so like !!!!

“-he just didn’t fuck me anymore.” girl fucking say it. 

“Do you like me Henry?” I mean fuck how could he not?

Oh mannnn another masturbation scene hell yeah baby! Unlike the first one this one lingers for longer and it is good. The idea that he doesn’t even necessarily enjoy the act of this, it is a means to an end, an annoyance, it’s a mix of anger, of disgust, of maintenance, of hatred, it’s this balance that is just so fucking right. The idea of hating the act of this is just, so interesting to me. Not just from a narrative perspective, not just for the way it lets us into Henry’s mind, but because it is so utterly different and conflicting from my own personal feelings about the act. Not even the act as he is doing it but my own relationship with it on a deep and personal level, the differences between he and I, they don’t divide me from his character, if anything, they intrigue me further, beckoning me to know him. 

“The taste of her name as sweet as the frost-glazing of a strawberry filled cake, flowering in his chest until it choked him.” Pure poetry. Gorgeous. Perfect. Another stand out line. Makes me think of so much, the images of digging my fingers into a pretty little decorated cake, of ripping and tearing and splitting it open simply to destroy something beautiful, to mirror what Blossom is already doing to Henry in such a short time, to then just lick the mashed and sugary strawberry mixture of the filling from my fingers, just because, flit through my mind while reading this line. What is this book capable of? The things it can conjure up cannot be understated. 

Hot, hot, hot. Love he was still half dressed and just spills himself onto the sheets. 

—

Finished second session at 10:53 PM. 45 pages covered in the second session. Word count over 2K now. 

—

Such a large break happened because of me leaving my previous job, moving into a new town and starting a new job, better late than never, I am back on it!

Starting this session at 11:02 AM on January 17th, a Tuesday, I have the day off today. Breakfast was cereal, I am having ice water and no snack because I will break for lunch soon. 

—

Chapter Ten.

— 

 I adore the description of Blossom’s house, it is so clear that just like all things Kate writes, a ton of thought was put into every detail. 

More food, this reminds me I should make meatloaf again soon,

“Seeing the Agent made her hungry.” I fucking LOVE. 

“Breathing out with the softness of a flowering bruise, tender and hesitant.” Kate I simultaneously want to kiss and punch you for always doing this! You throw out just the best fucking lines so damn casually. As if we are roommates, I finished a long day at work, sitting at the kitchen table and you just stride into the room, drop one of the most profound things I have ever heard and then just waltz off back to your own space as if it were nothing and I am not left changed and struggling to contend with what you just forced upon me. That is what lines like this feel like and do to me. Does that make sense?

And here it is, another real heart stopping and revealing moment of what makes Blossom her. You just know from the jump that there is something more to her, and this passage makes it abundantly clear and makes you feel for her. While I personally have experienced my fair share of this sort of thing in my own life it is of course, like a lot of stories, different from what she has but my heart goes out to her. Why can’t Blossom use, abuse, and take from these men as they have taken from her? Why not?

This chapter isn’t long but it doesn’t need to be, it is honestly very necessary and I love the look into Blossom alone and at home. 

—

Chapter Eleven.

—

Man fell asleep still dressed and cum covered. What a fucking whore, what an inspiration, what a guy. How down bad am I, do you ask? So bad that I read this and my first thought was, “I could fix that. Fuck the shower, I have a mouth-” With all the coffee he drinks, his alcohol problem and the smoking his cum must taste terrible. Still wouldn’t stop me.

I love this so much. Having Blossom showering in the last chapter towards the end and Henry at the next towards the start and difference in how they do even down to the temperature they prefer, amazing. 

Back at the diner, another meeting, more tension and of course, more food. It is impossible to read this and not get hungry and also slightly nauseated at points, it is beautiful. 

“-reached for more, satisfying herself in front of him.” I fucking canNOT. 

I love any scene with them talking back and forth.

This is so fucking good, she is getting to him so easily and just how unapologetically she is eating. Also, “But you’re not sorry. Why would you be?” Might be one of my fave quotes so far, it stuck out my last reading as well. 

Interrupting Henry when he immediately assumes the killer is a man and her fighting him on it. 

“Don’t underestimate the rage of a woman, Special Agent.” YEAH HENRY! And maybe it WAS a threat. What are you gonna do about it? 

Invite Blossom to the search part apparently.

—

Chapter Twelve. 

—

I feel it is important to mention at this juncture that I cannot read in silence so I have on a thunderstorm in the woods audio going and it feels just totally perfect for reading this

Henry runs through the details of the practised lie of what happened between him and his wife with a shocking amount of detachment, but not that shocking for him.

Mr.Whitmore you should learn to like, I dunno, lie better. 

The cropped tea and pink bell bottoms is unironically one of my favourite Blossom looks described in this book. 

This conversation, the back and forth and talking about favourite colours, their characters really shine here, another stand out moment. After having read this once before Henry saying “Blue” and knowing what will come later, I had to put the book down for a moment, and not just to type up this annotation. 

“How old are you, Blossom?” “Eighteen.” Old enough to legally...Vote. But on the real again the tension in this scene, sharing the cigarette, the closeness, just THIS. 

A body has been discovered! 

Blossom admitting she doesn’t feel anything upon seeing the disgusting corpse is just so fucking good. 

Chapter twelve was fucking great, I forgot how much happened in this one chapter, a total fave. 

—

Chapter Thirteen.

—

Blossom and Henry are just lying to police now, alright, alright. 

Short but to the point, I enjoy the small details in this one. Describing the grotesque nature of the body especially was very effective. 

Also the forgetting a clipboard and letting Blossom write on his back, cute, realistic, adore it.

Course you can’t pass up a fresh corpse Henry you fucking freak. 

—

Chapter Fourteen.

—

The entertainment centre! I remember simply adoring this next chapter, I am excited!

Grilling Mr.Whitmore on why he works here occasionally. Henry you are so, so transparent and projecting really hard here. Being so critical with him being so close to the teenagers when what are you doing with Blossom? You woke up splattered in your own cum after passing out post-nut, post-jack sesh thinking about a certain eighteen year old blonde, remember? 

More Henry and Blossom talking <3

“Oh, come on. You can’t deny that…You don’t look at all these…Preppy, skimpy seventeen and eighteen year old girls and don’t think about when you were that age with the impulse control of a twelve year old.” HENRY! 

“No. I don’t. Because I’m not seventeen, or eighteen anymore, Henry. And neither are you.” “Doesn’t mean I still can’t look.” He is so fucking gross. And yet…

I do feel for ol Norm here but at the same time he really does need to let Henry do his damn  job. 

“We’ll see if the Coopers are ready to talk and resume the work on Monday. I’m sure the killer will understand.” What a note to go out on Henry damn.

A knock on the door? This late? Who could it be? I ask having fully read this book before.

I was right by the way, this chapter was so good and so engrossing.

—

 Chapter Fifteen. 

—

Of course it’s Blossom who is here. Obviously. Who else?

Naturally she comes in. 

Absent mom and a dead mom. Gotta love two people with mommy issues getting together. 

I find myself unable to pull away during their conversations, they are just still so engaging to read. That being said, “Why don’t you like white wine?” “I’ve always preferred something stronger. Something that bites.” Oh I bet you do.

She’s making the move, SHE’S MAKING THE MOVE-

The description of Henry here, hands up, not looking at her, trying very, very hard to maintain his composure and will and not touch her. Oof. 

They are kissing! This is where it all starts to really go tits up and I am so here for it.

“We shouldn’t be doing this-” Oh but you’re gonna Henry, you are, we all know it just do it!

He really is trying here, and he does make a good point, they shouldn’t get involved with each other like this but that is part of what makes it so good!!!

She isn’t wearing any panties. 

Man is done for. 

And he gives in! Get it Henry! I wish that were me. Who in this scenario? Like a true bisexual. Both. 

Just going for it and with no protection! Henry, you animal. 

His garden. This whole section is phenomenal. People could learn a thing or two about writing sex scenes from reading how Kate does it!

Kate’s work is just mind blowing. It is incredible how she writes the differences between Henry and Blossom post their first time together. For him feeling like he can breathe for the first time in years and her imagining becoming one with the forest, consumed with rot and dying like the way they view sex and each other is so intensely fascinating. It just so interesting too because I have felt like Blossom has, chest feeling scooped out and hollow and empty but never relating to sex, reading this book with just how different my perspective on physicality with another human from there's never bores me.

“RISE AND SHINE, ASSHOLE, NEW DAY! AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE NOW!”  That is just this book and Henry’s life all over, huh? A good alternate tagline. 

Ahhhhh a dream sequence and such a fucking good one! The imagery in this is immaculate, the one that stands out to me the most is the mention of Blossom’s hair in a high ponytail tied with a pink ribbon, so fucking good and so clever. Blossom becoming a literal monster and tearing him apart, what do you think it means Henry? C’mon, THINK!

Another fantastic chapter, of course.

—

Chapter Sixteen. 

—

He is making her breakfast. Also blueberry pancakes are in fact the best, I will not take criticism at this time. 

“Colour me impressed.” My gesturing to a board covered with papers and tacked with pins, red strings connecting seemingly random things and moments, “It all comes back to COLOUR! IT’S ALWAYS ABOUT THE COLOUR! DO YOU SEE-”

“Yet, there was still nothing ever as tooth-rotting as Blossom James.” I am punching the air!

—

Chapter Seventeen.

—

Her being so excited to see him oh my GOD. “I missed you.” “You always miss me.” Things that happen between me and my husband all the time, no word of a lie.

Planning secret meetings ooooooh.

“I want you to do exactly what you wanted to do the day we found Ethan.” Blossom. Have I told you lately how much I love you?

Also I love the little jump here. The few weeks and the mention of just how many times and places they have fucked thus far, they have clearly been very busy. 

Fucking right next to the scene of the crime, extremely risky but also, extremely hot.

This is all fucking amazing. The depth, the feeling, Blossom’s and Henry’s worry and doubt and hungry fervour for one another being so all consuming constantly. The question of how does this end is a good one to leave the chapter with.

How will it all end?

—

Chapter Eighteen.

—

Kate describes kisses in a million ways and I am here for all of them. Preppy and sickening or otherwise. 

This man smokes. So fucking much my God. Third read I should do a cigarette counter. 

Henry drinking and getting sloppy and good ol Norm comes to the rescue. 

Bro. Dude. Asking for Blossom in your drunken stupor is not going to help anyone or anything my GOD DUDE!

He is such a fucking messss.

—

Chapter Nineteen.

—

Yeah you forgot your shit at the bar you fucking walking embarrassment of a man Henry.

I’m part of the Abby fanclub. 

I really like Sophie and Norm interacting. It totally reads that they have known each other a very long time and I love the easy and playful air between them both very much. A joy to read. 

The suspensions are not misplaced Sophie, not at all.

Blossom comes by to bring a lot more than just coffee in this scene that is for damn sure. Norm is really trying to give Henry the benefit of the doubt and struggling. I think he is almost trying too hard to convince himself but as he told Sophie before, what else can he do?

Another great chapter with more tension. I am stopping for now to break for lunch. I am thinking of an egg salad sandwich. It is 1:34 PM. I covered 110 pages this round, over halfway through the book. This has been the longest session so far and the doc is now over 4,000 words. 

—

It is January 29th, a Sunday, it is 12:31 PM, I have the day off and the laundry going as I sit down for this session. I had a sleep in and a late breakfast of an open faced sandwich consisting of egg and honey ham with chive cream cheese and hashbrowns. Water and no snack again. 

—

Chapter Twenty.

—

Blossom is having a party and again, I love the outfit described here, it is one of the first ones I think of, totally iconic and so her. 

Blossom in the bathroom with some fucking guy and this guy, Kyle, God, I hate him. Hated him the first read, hate him this one too, what a complete shit stain. 

I hate and love how real this is. It is just so fucking sickening because it is so common and happens all the damn time and has happened to her how many times? I wish Blossom would, I wish she would rip his teeth out, or scream or something but I know all too well what can happen in these scenarios and why she doesn’t. God, Kate, stop being such a good writer all the time damn it!

This is the kind of part that makes me want to reach in the pages and kill Kyle myself. Reminding myself he is a fictional character means nothing because Henry and Blossom are fictional too, you know? But the feelings they make me feel are real, what I get from reading this book is real and while they aren’t real living breathing people, Kate writes them so well they feel like they are. Even if they are fictional and I am real and I cannot touch them in a tangible way, this asshole, Kyle is fictional just as they are and therefore can and chooses to do harm and the threat of Blossoms hurt by him feels so sharp I could cut myself on it. 

“Did you cum?” Kill yourself Kyle you pathetic rapist fuckwad. 

Mr.Whitmore why are you at a high schooler’s party exactly???

“Rather, there was a tenderness to his bruising touch.” Kate. Girl. I am eating this line. Crushing it up and snorting it, need it in my bloodstream. 

The drama of it all, neither of them can communicate properly at all like just please can you for once be normal. I say as if I don’t love them at their absolute worst. 

—

Godddd what a fucking chapter, so good, so much happened but not enough to feel like overwhelmed by it, you know? Stellar as to be expected.

—

Before. Technically Chapter Twenty-One.

—

The wife is here. Cindy, poor, poor Cindy. Love the pjs tho.

Siiiigh, you too Henry? I say as I read him about to force himself on his wife as if I have not read this before.

This scene is so hard to talk about but I want to talk about it, you know? Like it is very intense how unintentional it seems to be, he didn’t come home planning to kill his wife, it isn’t a big premeditated thing, also I love how real this is. How he is so comfortable, so sure everything will be fine and cares so much about what he wants or feels he needs that he has no regard for her and pays the heaviest fine for it, her death, being the one that killed her. But also, even though we see him leaning on booze and pills and the rest, the man is still alive, he still goes on living, walking free after he did that.

RIP Cindy, we hardly knew you and you definitely deserved better.

—

Short chapter but it is deff supposed to be, gets across just what it needs to and it hit hard and is insanely effective.

—

Chapter Twenty-Two.

—

Blossom got into the car and now after a short but tense drive they are having a conversation and this conversation my Lord! Henry is totally upset that Blossom is right by the way, she knows he likes how she looks next to him and how she makes him feel but he’s all “oh I’m so much older, my job, my station, my morals-” WHAT MORALS HENRY?

Also Henry has a point, Blossom James does have main character syndrome and is just constantly inserting herself into the narrative but she is fucking interesting as hell and I wanna see her all the time so damn Henry let her live!

“You know nothing about me.” Mmmm don’t be so sure Henry.

Blossom is again correct, you wanted to fuck her from the moment you saw her, don’t deny it you mess of a man!

Him hitting her !, her nose bleeding and her smiling up at him with fucking red teeth, !!, the description I never get tired of reading ever of her being a predator of equal conviction !!!!!!!!!

Like I could go on and on about this section just it is so fucking good! Henry’s complex and swirling emotional state consuming him so thoroughly and being unable to control himself around her! The conflicting wants and feelings and him being just thoroughly unequipped to deal with it all! They are a car crash I cannot look away from, nor would I ever want to. I stare and let the images of them tangled up in a gory flaming pile burn into my retinas until the fumes of spilled gasoline make me literally pass the fuck out. 

Me dancing in my chair as I read how Henry wants to kill and main Blossom, just a nice Sunday afternoon.

Henry saying he doesn’t want to fight her. Like I don’t believe you again Henry,

They are fucking in the carrr! Which like yes, hot, get it, but also, Blossom are you good?

Henry chasisting her over smoking, like, dude. For real?

Blossom calling him Daddy, him calling her disgusting and shotgunning smoke into her mouth, her being so fucking coy and pleased with herself, “And you love it.” Like yeah he does and so do I! Do it again!

Blossom asking him to the fucking dance! THE DANCE IS COMING! AH!

Henry of course you can’t go to the dance you old fuck but also her teasing him about going with a boy her own age and him getting so angry over it has me so amped, like the playfulness on display here it is just all a game to her!

—

I want to make this chapter breakfast in bed and then smash the coffee mug over its head before giving it a big ol kiss.

—

Chapter Twenty-Three.

—

Chinese food late at night in a hotel room sounds so fucking good right now it is unreal.

Okay but now I need a disgustingly detailed section of how exactly Henry eats pussy or do I gotta do that myself? I can do it myself! I just need to know, we know I can deliver it too. I just gotta think on it.

Blossom asking to get choked by him like girl you don’t know what you are asking of him! He CAN hurt you! He wants to! You are meddling in forces you do not understand!

Every little piece and look into Blossoms past is so fucking sad. She has been through so much I hate it. 

Must every guy in Blossom’s life suck so fucking hard?

Also the milk and honey thing coming around and around again is so fucking perfect and apt and slots into this story fucking amazingly well.

Blossom making him breakfast! I would eat what she made, it sounds fucking good honestly.

Another amazingly described kiss that is so fucking perfect I ache.

—

Another banger of a chapter my God I feel so full and spoiled during this re-read.

—

Chapter Twenty Four.

—

Why are all the suspects older dudes? Hum. I wonder.

Also Henry dressed like a total slut today, we love to see it!

Someone who hangs around the younger guys and girls. Man, I wonder who he is thinking of!!!

I could listen to Henry go off about this kind of thing forever, Freud or otherwise.

Stacy do be Stacy though that is for damn sure Norman.

Norman inviting Henry for dinner and asking him for a smile that turns out to be so unsettling that he is just straight up like nevermind please don’t ever do that again oh my God. Perfection. Hilarious. Whenever and I do mean WHEN, not IF, the movie or tv series or whatever adapt of this happens, that detail needs to be left in.

Blossom out alone with a bunch of boys in the woods and drinking, a horrible idea really.

I can hear the “I wasn’t gonna let them do anything, I was just playyingg-” in my head and it is great. Also sure, Blossom.

This girl will not stop running her mouth to save her life. You are gonna get you and Henry in so much trouble!

I don’t blame Sopher for hating Henry, man is always acting suspicious.

And so it comes out again! Henry I think you do have it out for Whitmore and I think it is because you see an uncomfortable amount of yourself in him at times and refuse to acknowledge it. But also yeah Whitmore is really weird, keep an eye on that guy.

Ooooof. Norman laying it down, like he knows what is up! He isn’t dumb Henry! “I hope to fuck I don’t.” Hits so fucking hard.

Man I do not like Sophie but that is totally a ME and my issues thing because she is right about a lot of this.

—

Another fucking awesome chapter, the scene with her in the woods and Henry coming by is another stand out in my mind I find myself thinking of often. 

—

Chapter Twenty-Five.

—

Henry finding the old pictures of Blossom on the fridge and wondering what made her so “hard” like man if you only knew.

God, the imagery you describe Kate everytime it gets to me. Reach into her brains and feel around, discover what is really wrong Henry do it!

The girl was just fucking waiting for him! Also the lingerie sounds cute as fuck.

C’mon Henry we both know you are gonna fuck her, just do it my guy. 

The give and take between them both, the constant fight and unease and just inability to just exist without conflict. Man do I love it. 

Blossom calling him daddy has me feeling some kind of way.

The choose to kiss me thing has my in knots just it is fucking fantastic Kate just truly something else.

The softness and the not wanting to be so vulnerable but being unable to help it.

—

Finished this session at 2:31 PM. Stopping at page 288. I covered 73 pages this time around. The doc is over 5.5K words. Less than 100 pages left to cover. The next annotation session might be my last. Excited to finish strong!

—

It is January 31st, a Tuesday, once again it is my day off. I have less than 100 pages left to cover in Blossom and I am going to attempt to complete the book and the annotations this session. For breakfast I had a fried egg sunny side up on a single slice of buttered toast, topped with green onion and everything bagel seasoning. No snack as I am planning on lunch today, perhaps mac and cheese? I am drinking a country peach herbal tea out of my mug Kate sent, “The Trees Know More Than They Dare Say” stares back at me as I put on more thunderstorms in the forest sounds at 10:56 AM and this new reading session begins.

—

Chapter Twenty-Six.

—

I don’t think I have mentioned it until now but Henry smoking Marlboro’s just makes like way, way too much sense. I can see him holding the classic iconic white and red and gold pack in his hand very clearly.

Henry staring into the forest and wanting to lie down and rot and let it all overtake him in many a similar way that Blossom has is so interesting. Also it makes me wonder like are they just this similar? Or is something up with this forest in particular? But then I remember all the time I have spent in forests and that they are just Like That.

Henry plays nice at the dinner with Norm’s family and I love the honesty of him telling Norm when asked, that he doesn’t give a shit what he thinks but what Stacy thinks actually matters. Good shit, consistent with his character and just an awesome detail. 

Norm filling in Henry on the ‘rumours’ and him brushing it off as just that. Henry is understandably very upset as am I!

Another shower, him gripping the sink and staring at himself in the mirror, again, reminiscent and similar of Blossom earlier. 

Talking about her perfume being on his coats and his pillows, and then this, “She was everywhere. Infecting him.” She so is! I love how slowly it happens but how clear it is here, how much she is burrowed inside him and has affected him so heavily, she has set up camp inside him and he isn’t even fully aware of how much she has. I am obsessed. 

“He felt as if she was the biggest mystery of all.” Fucking cut, print, beautiful note to finish on. Another moment I can see put to screen.

—

A fantastic chapter, seriously so many good smaller details, thoroughly enjoyable yet again,

—

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

—

This chapter is only about two pages but what a two pages. 

Two pages of Blossom breaking down after expecting Henry to reach out and him not, her sobbing, clawing at herself and drinking. The descriptions here at the end, of so desperate for relief you hurt yourself immensely in the process, willing to tear till you see bone just hoping for a moment’s peace, goregous. 

—

Ethan, or, Chapter Twenty-Eight.

—

Another very short chapter, describing Blossom in the cemetery and Ethan following her there. The conversation is brief, him saying she shouldn’t be out like this, him affirming that it’s not girls like her that are dying, it’s boys like him and him assuring her that he can “bench 200” so the guy will have his work cut out for him. Okay, nice attempt to flex Ethan /s. But this last line is the stand out to me, “-and Blossom let her head fall back, snaking her arm around his shoulders and closing her eyes, engulfing him.”  Phew. Truly a banger.

—

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

—

Oh my God this is it, this is the chapter, the long, extended dream sequence. I dunno if I am ready again! This part is so intense but so good. Okay, okay, be cool, here we go.

We kick off with a wonderfully descriptive scene of Henry eating, frantic, hungry, desperately trying to satisfy himself, right? Eating meat, drinking red wine, eating pomegranate, and it’s all fine until we pull away to see that he is actually eating Blossom. And not in the way we have seen before, we are talking full out, full on, raw, animalistic, cannibal style consumption. 

It isn’t enough and it will never be enough as he feeds and eats until there is literally nothing left of her, going so far as to consume bone, marrow and cartilage. 

He reaches back in and instead of finding warmth and hopefully more food instead he finds a nest of baby spiders and I get a chill every time I read this part ugh!

This image is the best. Henry trying to fight to get the spiders off, almost tripping and then Blossom, still dead, reaching out, catching his wrist and holding him there, mouth opening and dark legs of a much larger spider reaching out from the darkness just- my GOD. Horror, pure, horror, goodness.

Tea update, I have gotten so distracted reading and annotating it has now gone cold.

The dream shifts suddenly to Henry being in front of and then going into Blossom’s house in search of her, the hope that he will find her safe is one that I cannot share with him because Henry, awake or asleep she is never safe with you.

The description of the room in total disarray is fantastic and also again something that one can picture so easily. 

Blossom is dead and Henry is holding her and sobbing and I am FEELING!

Him crying and apologising is everything. 

But, it was all a joke because all of this is a big fucking joke to Blossom, even pretending she is dead all for him to discover. 

“Does it make you feel good? Tearing those around you apart? Destroying those that care about you?” Go off Henry. But also yeah Blossom, does it?

“I’m sorry.” “No you’re not.” - “You never are.”  Fucking snaps Kate. 

This moment still fucks me up, Henry realizing that he is dead on the floor, has been watching himself this whole time. 

“Are you going to hurt me like you hurt her?” She asked. “Do you want to hurt me Henry? Do you want to kill me too?”  This whole scene, this whole sequence is indescribably good. I wouldn’t want them to cut a single moment or movement from this pure gold. 

Words are failing me.

He’s awake!

The bitch is back and she is drunk.

I have read a few reviews that claim the work of Kate and this book in particular to be ripping off Gone Girl, calling it plagiarism, especially for this next part. Blossom, drunk and a mess giving a speech, a rant, going the fuck off about the awful treatment of men and expectations thrust upon her and all women and that just pisses me off. The reviews, not her speech, her speech is great. I hate that reviewers see a woman giving a speech about mistreatment, and the entitlement of men and look at Kate and her work and compare her to Gillian Flynn negatively.  Because don’t you know there can be only one book like this? Only one story delving into the rage inherent to the feminine? Only one book can have this kind of character, this kind of story, everything else is clearly a copy, a cheap imitation, instead of insulting and making unfair and frankly incorrect claims, looking at the broader picture. These reviewers look at this and compare instead of seeing that both these stories and many more like them can have their own spot in the conversation, and can co-exist. And the biggest point of all, maybe, just fucking maybe, the reason there is multiple stories, conversations, rants, characters like Amy and like Blossom is because what they are talking about, what they preach has distinct truth and basis in the reality of the experience of tons and tons of women and that is why it hits and resonates. 

Also Henry thank God you stopped yourself from saying that shit because holy fuck no one is ever asking for it ever.

Henry not believing female rage, like alright bud, sit down.

Blossom’s feelings are so valid here. The want for people who have harmed you to see how they have and understand it and share that feeling. It is fucking powerful, this whole section is!

“Would you kill to take back your power?” Henry, you are getting closer to getting it. 

The way I need this whole scene filmed yesterday.

Blossom’s got a fucking gun. The first time I read this my stomach dropped. 

This scene with her holding the gun to him is so tense.

Kate you could write about the issues with women only becoming empowered in media through abuse and hurt from men for hours and hours and I would eat it up. Oh shit, wait, I already have. I’d do it again. 

I like to think for sure a part of Blossom wants to stop this, wants to be ‘normal’ wants to love as Henry describes but again, the constant mistreatment from everyone all her life prevents that. How can she just swallow back all this hate and not let it poison her? How can she just move on from that? It IS like saying that they won, she becomes another person standing idly by, a part of the problem. 

Finally she falls asleep and the chapter ends.

—

This is my favourite chapter in the book by far. I could scream on and on about it more than I already have, the dream sequence I could read it and go line by line diving in deeper I swear to God. I gotta hold myself back in some places though. 

—

Chapter Thirty.

—

A hard and tense conversation is had once Blossom wakes up in the morning.

Henry keeps on choosing her, she didn’t ask for it, true but he isn’t unreasonable in wanting her to choose him back and some proof of this. 

She clearly doesn’t want him to go, but he does. 

She usually has cold showers but takes a hot one in an attempt to understand. I could never take a cold shower so Blossom girl, I do not understand you in that respect. 

—

A shorter but extremely emotionally driven chapter that hits the spot after the last one.

—

Chapter Thirty-One.

—

Blossom asking for some help with her photos.

Oh my God Mr.Whitmore you fucking creep. Yeah I will look over your photos for the end of year project, how about I bring a bottle of wine along?! You sick fuck I hate you.

She is eating once again, drinking once again, watching a nature documentary and wishing she as the wolf and the prey all at once and I am still just so fucking captivated by it.

Yeah those Barbie commercials suck, I’d turn off the TV too.

—

Chapter Thirty-Two.

—

We finally got another body hoooo boy! 

Again tied with a pink ribbon, again many, many stab wounds, throat slashed this time, leaving him to choke on his own blood. 

I afforded myself a ten minute break at this time to grab an ice water and make lunch, I sit back down with my mac and cheese ready to eat and read. 

The killer is being unorganised and cocky, in broad daylight no less?

A school ID at the scene of the crime!

A frantic call from Blossom oh my God!

Mr.Whitmore is with her and when Henry gets there he is dead and she is holding the knife.

Her sobbing about how she lost control is haunting knowing what we know. Knowing how important control is to her and this is why she is doing this, convincing herself whenever she is being hurt or used she is still in control it is like what happened? The tension!

—

My mac and cheese threatens to go cold at this rate because this book, again even on the second readthrough, is so captivating. 

—

Chapter Thirty-Three.

—

Blossom is in the hospital and Henry is there with her.

The girl has been really fucked up my God. 

Norman is totally a bit salty and mad at himself that Henry was right this whole time about it being Mr.Whitmore. 

Love Henry describing the motif of the pink ribbon representing Blossom, just, real good.

I really, really like Norm and Sohpie’s interactions, again the air of how long they have known each other hangs heavy.

Of course it actually happened Norm. Come on. What kid lies about that?

—

Another chapter in the books that I love, a big smooch for this one.

—

Chapter Thirty-Four.

—

We are finally at the dance hooo boy.

The theme of the dance being love, gag me. 

Henry is here like she wanted! 

Be still my heart she is wearing fucking blue. SHE IS WEARING BLUE!

It’s all like a dream, an actually good one for once Henry, a rarity for you I am sure. 

They dance and yeah all the parents watching on like uhhh? Hilarious, like shut up you don’t know them like us the readers do!

And they leave the dance togetherrrr. God I love them way too much for how bad they are for each other.

Back at the hotel, much making out and getting drunk together.

He wants to rip away the blue and bury himself in her pink oh my fucking-KATE! I love you.

Blossom is that girl. Drunk all like, “I wanna go swimming!” And fuck I felt that. 

Kate could write something just listing colours over and over and I would love it. 

Of course he doesn’t want her in the pool. She wants him in the pool with her, so she drags him in, naturally.

The build up of what you think is going to be a steamy sex scene poolside ends up with Blossom breaking down and man my heart hurts. 

—

This chapter is just so well paced AND well placed, you know what I mean, it is just mwah, amazing, very needed, tonally it flows so well.

—

Chapter Thirty-Five.

—

It’s summer, a month after the dance and Henry pays Blossom a visit. 

We get to hear some of her statement and mannn. It is just, fucking pitch perfect, immaculate. 

“I want to love you…So badly…” - “But?” - Blossom didn’t answer.  I am ripping my own hair out oh my God. 

Blossom is so empty inside, nothing there at all and so she instead of dealing with the internal pain, she seeks physical pleasure.

Okay this next sex scene, so fucking good, just I love the juxtaposition of the flowery language with harsher terms thrown in there, it is through the whole book and it feels like it sums up Blossom the character insanely well. 

“In return, Blossom gave him exactly what he needed, at the same time, taking exactly what she wanted. A perfect balance.” Can I get this line tattoo’d on the inside of my eyelids as well as marry it?

—

Chapter Thirty-Six.

—

Post fuck our fave creep Henry Williamson watches Blossom shower and I wish that were me.

Oh he is smoking less look at him!

“He wondered if this could last forever.” Doubtful. A nice thought though. 

You’ve been here how many times and you only look around her room now? Alright. 

Of course you go for her underwear drawer you little freak of a man! 

Henry finds an envelope and in it a series of pictures of the bodies, of the crime scenes but they aren’t copies, oh no they are originals and very different from the ones he has seen previously.

A delectable little cut back showing Adam Hall from the start going to the woods for a run and Blossom following after him oh my God.

—

And just like that the book is over. It is, amazing, truly a gripping read even the second time. I noticed more, picked up on more and really loved it even more. Blossom being the real one behind all this is fantastic, well played and woven without it feeling shoved in your face or obvious and reading it now after the first time knowing she did it was a trip! This book is fantastic, I could read it over and over and I intend to! It plays like a movie, I love the characters and it is just phenomenal. I cannot recommend it enough. Seriously everyone needs to read this and then review it afterwards I am begging! Kate, this book is just, ugh, so special and something so different and I am just totally enamoured with it and you and how you write. In case this 8.6K document didn’t express that already. Thank you again so much for this story and now I can’t wait to read After The Lamb Bites Back!

#Blossom #Blossom By Kate Winborne #horror fiction #BHF writing #annotations #I fucking love how this came out and hope it captures how much I love this book #my thoughts and just how insane it makes me #I LOVE YOU KATE #Fr there are spoilers in this tho so tread lightly #Henry Williamson

[hostilehospitalbeds]

This post is fear-mongering and conspiracy-based thinking:

(Image description: screenshot of tumblr post that reads “fuck it

ice cream listeria outbreak. again. did you know that illness due to listeria has a 20-30% mortality rate?

family dollar recalling a bunch of drugs and supplements because they stored them wrong

lucky charms and cheerios continue to make children and adults sick, the cause is still under investigation, and no recall has been issued. terrifying. that means it is almost definitely not one of the common causes like salmonella...”)

That “ice cream listeria outbreak”? Click the link and it’s ONE creamery specifically in Sarasota FL. Important info for sure but the implications here are very different (the overall vibe of the post is “what is the fda not telling you?” and yet… the fda is literally the ones telling us that) (no link for their “again” statement - has this happened many times or one other time? Where? When? What companies? Who knows! That would be giving real facts instead of spreading conspiracies!)

And then the cereal stuff is just laughable. A) there’s actual articles about the fda investigations but they just linked to “am I being poisoned .com” B) perhaps no recall has been issued bc it’s still under investigation and PERHAPS it’s still under investigation bc they’re only investigating it bc of these weird complaints and there’s actually nothing to find! Sometimes individuals have weird reactions to certain foods! Sometimes you get a stomach bug and it’s not food poisoning!

I for one have found that eating certain cereals can make my tummy hurty bc there’s just a lot of fiber in cereal and I have my personal tummy issues that can be exacerbated by that and you don’t see me out here like “I WAS POISONED BY RAISIN BRAN” bc I have critical thinking skills. Jesus Christ. Also I just had a stomach bug and there’s no way I could possibly pinpoint a food I ate that was responsible bc a) idk if it was food poisoning at all and b) even if it was there’s no way to know which food unless there was a big outbreak and investigation and news about it.

Yet these people are like well I ate nothing out of the ordinary recently except Honey Nut Cheerios so it HAD to be the Cheerios. ummm that’s not how food poisoning works, you can get it from something you eat all the time if it was a bad batch, expired, you cooked it wrong, whatever. But they’re obviously not really talking in scientific medical terms about food poisoning, they have weird ideas about certain foods being intrinsically Poison To The Human Body. Which is nonsense.

Oh you know what let’s talk about this one too:

(image description: screenshot of tumblr post that reads “several honey products are being recalled for having undisclosed, get this...VIAGRA in them. and cialis. sildenafil and tadalafil”)

And here’s the fda explanation (interestingly not the one they linked to, they intentionally chose a much vaguer press release):

(image description: screenshot of an FDA article that reads “When you’re browsing, one of the best ways to protect yourself from fake, and even possibly harmful, products is asking whether a claim sounds too good to be true, or if it contradicts what you’ve heard from reputable sources. 

On July 12, 2022, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration posted warning letters to companies that are violating federal law by selling products marketed as food which contain undisclosed or hidden prescription medication. These products are labeled as honey with herbal ingredients and are marketed with claims to treat disease or improve health. 

These products are promoted and sold for sexual enhancement on various websites and online marketplaces, and possibly in some retail stores. If you are struggling with sexual performance issues, you may have a physical condition that is keeping your body from responding as it normally would. Talk openly with your health care professional before considering any treatments.”)

like. We’re talking a scam product to begin with and op is making it sound like any random honey you pull off the grocery store shelf might have viagra in it!

tl;dr - the FDA’s job is to protect you from dangerous food and drugs and they generally are on top of that job (if it seems like they’re behind or lacking they probably just… didn’t know yet! Shocker they aren’t omniscient!) and anyone trying to tell you otherwise is a conspiracy theorist. Learn how to recognize twisting of info to fit a narrative.

#idk about the family dollar drugs things and there were more items under that and I didn’t feel like investigating them all #my guess is many of them are like the ice cream where something legit happened but they’re twisting it into a mass conspiracy #(see above I investigated another one that caught my eye as Bizarre) #(After writing those tags I mean) #food #health #I put so much work into this post and it will probably get Zero Notes. I should really get off this website maybe #to start with I unfollowed the person who reblogged that post and put it on my dash. Don’t need stuff like this on my dash!

[splashtailstar]

hi, it's tumblr user @fixing-bad-posts (i'm on anon because i can't be bothered to log out of my main blog and log into the blog i use to send asks from when i'm conducting fbp business lol).

back in march you sent me a few submissions, but i think tumblr messed up and ate the images. i just have your image descriptions but no actual images! one of them read, "reminder that he/him lesbians and they/them lesbians are real 🫶" and there was another that said, "lesbian 👏🏻 is 👏🏻👏🏻 an 👏🏻 umbrella 👏🏻 term! 👏🏻"

if you're still up to submitting, would you mind sending them back in? sorry for the hassle!

sure! thank you for including the date submitted bc it helped ve find them quicker

#rowan's asks #anon #fixing-bad-posts

[ncisduckie]

Went digging through some old notebooks and found this old comic I'd drawn sometime before the ANTIBUG premiere. I was self-conscious about my art and finished the day the ep premiered, so I never shared this with anyone.

Please enjoy this art.... several years after the fact. :')

#miraculous ladybug #antibug #chat blanc #ML au #technically an au at this point #ladybug #akuma #chloe bourgeois #my art #fan comic #old art #ML S1 #I think tumblr ate my image descriptions #rip

[normal-thoughts-official]

Starting out with image descriptions: formatting

Plain text: "Starting out with image descriptions: formatting" in title text. end PT

Continuing my series about accessibility, I have decided to explain how an ID should be put in a post. I see a lot of people in here who already do image descriptions but aren't sure how to properly format them, or who format them in a way that isn't accessible. I decided to make a post to explain the basics on how to make IDs.

This won't explain what to write when you're making IDs; just how to properly put your ID in the post in a way that is accessible. For more resources on IDs, you can go to my "accessibility" and "reference" tags.

1. Text ID vs Alt Text

Plain text: Small title text saying, "1. Text ID vs Alt Text". end PT

A text ID is an ID you write on the body of the post, visible to everyone. Alt text, on the other hand, is an ID you code in along with the image, so it isn't visible for people with screenreaders, but people with it can click on the image and get that ID read out loud.

Tumblr offers the possibility to add alt text to your images, if you click on the three dots that appear on the corner of the image on mobile. Except... Oops, it doesn't always work

As with many Tumblr features, Tumblr alt text is known to glitch, and the entire alt text might disappear or not be available to users without the O.P necessarily knowing. The reasons for this range from "the post was edited later" to "reblogs ate the alt text" to "damned if I know". So, it is unreliable, and that alone is a reason why it should not be used

There are, however, other important reasons! Namely, that alt text isn't actually accessible to a lot of visually impaired people. This is because alt text can only be accessible via a screenreader, since the ID will only be available in the post's code. And not every visually impaired person uses a screenreader, including blind people

There are other accessibility features that legally blind and visually impaired people use, such as: bigger text, bigger display, high contrast text, the enhance button, color correction, and more. These people still need IDs (including of screenshots of text! They need these accessibility features to see text, so if you post a screenshot of regular text, they can't read it), but cannot see them if you only put it on alt text

Not to mention that some blind people cannot use a screenreader even if they preferred that to other accessibility features, because they are Deafblind, have auditory processing disorder, or simply cannot listen to something at the moment for whatever reason

Tumblr is working on a feature that allows alt text to show up in the body of the post so people can read it normally, but while it isn't available to everyone, alt text is not accessible. It is not accessible to Deafblind people, people with APD, and people who prefer not to use screenreaders, which is a choice they have the right to make. Therefore, using it is not a good accessibility practice and using plain text IDs is preferable

There is also an important argument, which is that alt text is designed to be invisible to sighted folks, and that in itself is problematic because it discourages people to think about accessibility, recognize when something is or isn't accessible, and start incorporating accessibility practices into their lives. I am a strong supporter of this argument, which is another reason why I don't think I'll ever advocate for alt text. This part, however, isn't a consensus. The other parts are

2. Placement of the ID

Plain text: Small title font that reads, "2. Placement of the ID". End PT

Imagine that Tumblr's newest glitch is that any images added to a post end up at the bottom. So you see a text post that makes use of several images, but every time there is an image in the middle, you just get text that says "image" and you have to scroll down, find the image in question, then scroll back up

This is the experience you are giving blind and visually impaired people when you leave your IDs at the bottom of the post

Folks, when you add an image (or more) to a text post, you don't put it in a random place, do you? You put it in the ideal place for someone to comprehend your text. There is a logical, comprehensible sequence between text and image, and the image is right where it's supposed to be

Therefore, it is also where the ID should be

Please understand me clearly: an ID is their user's image. It substitutes the image for them. When you are writing one, it is helpful to ask yourself, "what would this look like if there was no image, only the ID?". Because that's what it's effectively like for people who need IDs

If the ID is anywhere that is not directly over or under the image, it's in the wrong place. If a place is where the image should be, then it's also where the ID should be

And yes, this includes when you post an image post with just a one-line caption underneath. Most of the time, the caption doesn't make sense without knowledge of the image. If you didn't post the caption before the image, there's no reason to put the caption before the ID

3. About "ID" and "End ID"

Plain text: Small title font reading "3. About 'ID' and 'End ID'." End PT

I occasionally see people posting IDs without the "ID" and "End ID" at the beginning and end, so I thought it'd be helpful to explain why they are needed.

Without the "ID" at the beginning, someone who can't see your image will not be able to tell that the image is described, and will assume that what you are posting is a caption. Then they will probably skip it, or at least believe they are missing the image's information

There is really no other way to make it obvious that what you are about to post is an image description. And a lot of the time, even reading the ID won't make it obvious that it's an ID if you can't already see the image. This is particularly true when the image in question is a screenshot of text and the ID is just a transcription without information that it's a transcription. Someone who sees that and can't see the image will assume that it's your own caption to the image, which could be literally anything

Similarly, the "End ID" is important for the person to know where the ID ends and the poster's caption or commentary begins. Again, there is no way for them to know otherwise. Not even the paragraph break, because some IDs are longer than a paragraph, especially if it's an image with lots of information, such as an infographic or spreadsheet

Using brackets [] instead of the "ID" and "End ID" is NOT ["not" in caps and bold] an appropriate substitution, because brackets are a form of punctuation, and therefore, screenreaders will just read them as a pause. A pause which they would already have because of the paragraph breaks. So, for screenreader users, they offer absolutely no differentiation

Note: "ID" stands for "Image Description", not "Identification". So you don't need to say "Image ID", as that would be "Image Image Description". That's not a cardinal sin that deeply affects your accessibility or anything, but it's good to know. I was saying "Image ID" for like a year before I realized that and I felt really stupid afterwards, so I thought you'd like to know

4. Formatted text

Plain text: Small title font that says, "Formatted text". End PT

I see a lot of people posting their IDs in formatted text (usually tiny text or italics, but occasionally bold, colored text, and others). You should not have your ID in any kind of formatted text

Why? Because most forms of formatted text are unreadable to at least some people with visual impairments, if not all of them. This will generally not be a problem for screenreader users unless you use all caps, stylized fonts, or embedded links. But they will be a problem to users who don't have screenreaders, which, as we've seen before, make up a significant amount of ID users

Legally blind or visually impaired users who don't use screenreaders generally rely on bigger text/display as an accessibility feature. This means that they set their phone to make text bigger for them. If you put your ID in tiny text, you are making the text small all over again. So they won't be able to read it, and your ID will be useless

I have my phone's text and display set to biggest, and Tumblr tiny text looks roughly the same size in that mode as Tumblr regular size in regular mode. That is not big enough for lots of visually impaired people to read; if it was, they wouldn't have their phones set to make text bigger

Similarly, italics make the text look thinner, which is harder for a lot of visually impaired people to read. Bold makes the letters get easily smushed together, which is also hard for some to read. Colored text has a lower contrast, which will also be harder for them to read. Not to mention visually impaired people might have other conditions that affect reading such as color blindness or dyslexia

This is specially harmful if it's long chunks of text. I've seen some people who will put everything that was directly transcribed from the image in bold or italics, and I've even done it myself for a brief period. Please don't do this! It is very hard for a lot of people to read

Every time you mess with formatting on your text, you are basically annulling someone else's accessibility features display. And since Tumblr does not allow users to turn those settings on or off, this is an accessibility issue

Note: not everyone will be negatively impacted by the use of these. Some people even find them helpful, especially if it's to signify key words. But again, since it's impossible to turn it on or off, the best way to do an ID is without formatting, a.k.a in plain text. The exception to this is BlockQuote (a.k.a idented text) and bullet points

To find out more about plain text, you can check out the other post I made about it on the link below

Link

"Do I need to put the ID between brackets?"

Plain text: Small title font reading, "Do I need to put the ID between brackets?". End PT

You might have noticed that most people post IDs between brackets, like this: [ID: A pig wearing a baseball hat. End ID]. This might be the most common way of formatting it

It is not, however, necessary. As far as I know, people do this so people who don't need the IDs can easily know where it begins and ends, and skip them. They do not serve any accessibility purpose

Personally I don't use them, and if I want to have a visual cue to show where the ID begins and ends, I put it in BlockQuote. This is not necessary either, although it might help some people with dyslexia and ADHD better organize the contents of the post. It is fine to do, though, as long as it doesn't substitute the "ID" and "End ID"

And that's all, folks! Thanks once again for reading this long post, and I hope it was helpful

TLDR

Plain text: small title font reading "TLDR". End PT

You should make your IDs in text, directly under or over the image, with the "ID" and "End ID" at the beginning and end, and without italics, bold, or tiny text. Using brackets isn't necessary but it's okay

#accessibility #image descriptions #reference #resources #how to make ids #has plain text #has tldr #long post

[kirathehyrulian]

Non-Challenge Art 🧱Another Brick in the Wall🧱  Art Master Post

(right click, open image in new tab images for better quality view) (Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Artist: @kirathehyrulian | Ao3 | LJ Author: @road-rhythm​ | Ao3 | Storylink: Ao3 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Fic Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 19,898 Summary: When Sam vanishes on a case, it feels like every nightmare Dean's had since he got his brother's soul back is coming true. Waking up buried alive doesn't exactly make it Sam's favorite day, either. The Winchesters will do anything to save each other: that’s almost a natural law. But in nature, everything has a cost, and Sam and Dean have a bad history of not examining the price tag.

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr.   👇(Artist Notes, Bonus art and Spoilers below the cut) 👇

Artist notes:

“A room in darkness. In the middle of the floor, a thing on fire. Sam came near. It was a heart. The heart burned, but did not char. The flames licked along the surface of the organ in blue and orange, but the flesh within was fresh, perfect, wet, and red. Underneath the fire, the heart pulsed. He took it in his hands, in awe of its beauty. He trembled to touch it. It seemed he had never seen heat or light before now, and in the logic of dreams, he knew what he had to do with it. He was always going to do it. He raised it to his mouth. When he ate, he felt it burn all the way down.Then he woke.” - Another Brick in the Wall Chapter 18

Months, this art project has been in the works for months. If I look back at the text logs, it was all the way back in May, this year, when I started trying to crack down on it. Part of why it took so long was because I felt so drained in a lot of different ways. But, hey better late than never, right?

Normally, I have more things to say in this section, but because this set was stretch out over months I don’t remember everything off the top of my head. So, I’ll just go with a few bullet points that come to mind: •I know I started out wanting to do something more abstract but that went out the window when I started drawing. What can I say, I prefer defined art. I did try there at the beginning, though, I promise. •Sam’s green because first of all he’s dreaming of the sewer he’s trapped in (and sewers to me mean green atmosphere) and it’s supposed to be otherworldly/strange because it’s a dream. I promise it had nothing to do with the Grinch or Kermit. Though that was a funny happenstance. •The heart was originally going to be red surrounded in flames, which was closer to what the text described, but then I saw a reference of a heart on fire that looked like it was lit up like the sun. Which I think still fits the dream’s description still. So, I switched tracks on that part because that was like bright sun heart. •Originally what the blue and orange flames description meant just a single flame with the blue color as a core and the orange flame at the tips. Think of the type of flame you’d see on the stove top. But I thought it meant separate orange and blue flames, and once I had that idea it was hard to accept in my head. Plus, a lot of references of things on fire didn’t incorporate that combination. So, that’s how I end up doing what I did. •The hardest part was probably trying to figure out the heart/fire, runner up or alternatively how to draw an open mouth Sam. Thank god for the many Jared/Sam pics easily accessible out there. •I’ve been listening to a lot of Doja Cat lately, the main song was the one I linked below but really it was the hour long vid version, several times. •I made the title card last because I completely forgot about it till the end. So, I quickly made it mostly within a day. My favorite part about the process for the title card was deciding the font with author. We tried out four, one was a joke font, but I said I was going to try them all out and I did.

Idk, if anyone has any other questions they want to ask send me an ask or reply or reblog I’ll try to get back to you.

Bonus:

These pieces just show a little bts of the art. I removed most of the fire and the blood and took away the black filter so you can see the foundation of the work that was built upon. The fire covers up some of Sam’s face and I was proud of some of those profiles which I had to sacrifice for the fire in the final pieces, lol.

🎶Musical inspiration or just music I was listening to during (watch/listen at your own risk):

#wincest #wincest art #sam/dean #dean/sam #samdean #cw: cannibalism #cw: blood #eldritch moods #shirtless!sam #symbolism #sam winchester appreciation #dean winchester appreciation #myart

[dietcherrycolaposting]

Trying to find the root of your issues is weird. Things you remember from childhood that seemed normal at the time being the turning point. Realistically I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I became obsessed with diet culture and losing weight because those memories just blend together, but I can give a general area where it started.

Around 4th or 5th grade was when I started gaining weight. We’d moved in with my grandparents who were always cooking or giving us sweets. How could you say no to the kid with chubby cheeks asking you for an extra piece of cake. I have multiple memories of my pediatrician taking my mother out of the room but leaving the door cracked enough that I could hear even though they thought I was paying attention to the game on mom’s phone. “She needs to lose weight.” The amount of times my doctor would tell my mom that thinking I couldn’t hear was enough to make me insecure as a child.

When the Nintendo Wii came out it came with the Wii Fitness Board. There was never a moment that I stepped on that board and it said anything lower than overweight. I remember how my friends and I would play it to see what the little ages it would give you were. Yet when my turn came up I would always be embarrassed. The image of yourself as a cartoon blowing up like a balloon right in front of you as your friends watched and tried not to laugh too loud was soul crushing.

I remember being online and looking for diets to do without telling my family and seeing an article for Leonardo DeCaprio’s 500 calorie diet that he did for a movie. My childlike brain having no true idea what calories really were thought that it would be an easy way to lose weight. I failed the first day because of family dinner.

I remember sitting outside of the classroom at snack time handing my snack off the the boy next to me and taking his snack wrappers to make it seem like I’d eaten something. When my friend sitting next to me asked why I did that I would say “I’m on a diet so that I can look pretty for summer!” and that would be the end of the conversation.

In middle school I finally started losing weight around the 8th grade mark because I was actively able to skip breakfast and lunch. But there was this kid, he was my age and we sat at lunch together because we had mutual friends. He was the only one to notice that I never ate at lunch, and everyday when we would get to lunch before our friends he would pull out the lunch his mom had made him, split the ham sandwich in half, pour half of his chips out onto a napkin and share his lunch with me. Eventually he’d start packing two bags of chips and an extra sweet so that it’d seem like I had a full lunch of my own. I don’t even remember this kid’s name but that honestly means the world to me just thinking about it. He was the only one that could see me wasting away as a 13 year old and felt the need to help and I will always feel grateful for that.

By highschool I started homeschooling and met a new friend. Little did I know that this friend would be the one to introduce me to eating disorder tumblr. Whenever we’d hang out we would use each other as a way to keep our calories low and work out as much as possible together. Eventually she would move on to recover from her ed while I would be left behind to suffer with mine and watch her be with her new friends.

Two years ago I lost 40 pounds by the summer of 2019 because I used the new year as an excuse to get my ass in gear. 2019 was also the year I met the group of people who would end up being my best friends. All I wanted was to be able to keep up with them and the way I was losing weight left me with no energy to do so. So I started eating normally and recovering a bit with the help of them. I had relapses every couple of months or so but they’d always be there to encourage me. But now all of that encouragement is gone. All they ever talk about now is how their clothes are too big or how the doctor tells them they need to gain weight. It’s so hard to see your skinny friends who know you’ve struggled for years just casually call themselves fat because they’ve had two slices of pizza instead of one. It hurts because they’re using an accurate description of my body type to use negatively and put themselves down while I’m sitting right there. It hurts knowing that being my size is one of their worst fears. I just want to be beautiful. I’ve wanted this since I was a kid. I have to do this for the little girl that never felt good enough. For the young teen that put herself though hell. For the times she’s cried in the fitting room of a store because the clothes don’t fit. For the girl that just wants to be societies beauty standard for one moment of her life.

#tw #anamia #ana trigger #anarecia #thinsprio #thinsppi #thinspo #tw ed things #thinspp0 #anareksya #tw ana #pro ana #not pro just using the tags #anarex1a

[allen-desu]

Intrigue: A Canute and Thorfinn Character Study

Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with.

But then there was Thorfinn..

Very mild Thornute | Vulgar Language | Canon Compliant (Volume 3 specifically) | Spoiler Free

Brushing off my Tumblr to post this somewhere, best read on mobile.

-

Canute often found himself studying Thorfinn. In fact he was now, stealing glances of him while riding in a wagon through Wales. His nerves were getting the best of him and not wanting to think of signing a treaty without his father present, Canute instead tried to place Thorfinn to keep his mind occupied. The Prince found him to be a most intriguing character, and one that often eluded any solid characterization. It was egregiously annoying; for you see, growing up in the bloodbath of regal politics, Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with. Granted, Canute had Ragnar, and therefore he never had to put this skill to a real test for his vassal always fought on his behalf, keeping the young Prince’s best interests in mind. Nevertheless, his cautious observation skills were more often than not proven correct as the time revealed untrustworthy men to Canute.

But then there was Thorfinn. There are always exceptions to any and every rule, but even that logic still couldn’t stick Thorfinn under a neat label inside the Prince’s mind. The boy was not like the men he traveled with. Yes, he did the dirty killing, but he did it in a way that oozed indifference. Thorfinn killed swiftly and acted as if each man was a simple stepping stone to the fight being over, for the killing to be over. While the others he traveled with had a sick enjoyment for the act. Thorfinn did not socialize with the Askeladd’s band. He did not share in their spoils, including that of food and drink. Instead the blond hunted his own food, collected his own water. Only rarely did he ever get what he needed from what was plundered. Those rare instances were either when it was offered to him while marching, or on late and loud evenings, while the rest of Askeladd’s band made themselves merry, Thorfinn would slip some goods from tables abandoned for the night.

So, no, Canute would not label him as part of the band. This conclusion was frustrating, for if Thorfinn was not one of Askeladd’s men, why was he one of Askeladd’s most trusted pawns? Perhaps part of the answer was in the word “pawn” itself, but Askeladd was a cautious man as well. So much so that Canute knew it would bode well for him to try and keep tabs on what the man was thinking. So what was his reasoning to keep Thorfinn- who literally wanted him dead for some unknown reason to the Prince- under his thumb. The young blond was skilled and dangerous to have around. How did Askeladd tame-

Ah.. perhaps that was it.

Thorfinn was like something wild, pacing in its cage and waiting for its chance to do something about its keeper and free itself from its confines. Tamed to compliance, but would still happily bite the hand. Something akin to a wolf perhaps.

Canute looked up from his thoughts over to Thorfinn who was leaning on the opposite side of the wagon, his gaze far off and his eyes hard. Feeling that the Prince was looking at him Thorfinn shot daggers at Canute . Seeing the dirty teen do this with the image of a wolf in his mind nearly tempted Canute to chuckle and he swiftly hid his face from the other in case the temptation won him over. He could hear Thorfinn scoff and that was the end of the whole exchange. A lone wolf in an unfamiliar pack. The young Prince was satisfied with the description for the young warrior.

Canute was no longer satisfied. Thorfinn was his guard and, surprisingly, was taking the job seriously. He seemed not to care, was quick with sharp words at either Canute, Ragnar or Father Willibald. But on more than one occasion, the Prince would catch a small glimpse of Thorfinn nearby, seemingly disinterested, but close enough to come to aid or rescue. Any time he was not lurking and couldn’t be seen or found, a few hours or less after the fact, the shorter blond could be seen emerging from the tree line, a rabbit or more hanging over his shoulder.

In fact, this had just happened and Ragnar had convinced Thorfinn to add the rabbit to the meal he and the Prince were making.

“Highness!” Ragnar had announced upon entry. “We have beans, cabbage and a hare!” As he listed the items, Thorfinn had walked in behind him and closed the door to the cold. Canute was surprised to see him, tensed and annoyed, looking very out of place in the little home they had… procured.

“ A hare?” The Prince asked, ignoring how his own bout of tension was threatening to rise in his shoulders.

“Thorfinn caught it.” Obviously. “We’ll put it in the soup.”

“Well done.” As if Thorfinn needed or wanted praise for a deed he probably found to be child’s play. “Bleed it and skin it so we can wash the meat.” Truth be told, Canute wasn’t expecting for Thorfinn to just comply without some remark, and he surely wasn’t expecting Ragnar to take the rabbit from Thorfinn to do the task instead. It was jarring seeing his caretaker grab the rabbit from him, as if he had just seen Ragnar take a kill from a wild animal. At least that’s what flashed through his mind when the moment started. However, as it happened in real time, Thorfinn let his catch be taken and he was left to simply stand, awkward and unsure.

Canute, stirring the broth in progress mindlessly as he watched on, couldn’t help but consider Thorfinn for a long moment. This boy in front of him was no lone and wild wolf. The moment his gaze was felt, however, the creature came back and Thorfinn found a spot off to the side against the wall that he could sit at and brood.

Once the soup was done and the table was set, Canute and Ragnar somehow coaxed Thorfinn to join them at the table. The tension in the boy’s shoulders was palpable and Canute couldn’t help but take notice of it, trying to further categorize it. When Thorfinn actually acknowledged the meal in front of him, however, his demeanor changed. It was quick, merely a fraction of a second, but the Prince saw it- tried to burn the image into his brain to try and decipher later.

Ragnar’s compliments of the meal they prepared took Canute’s attention and he took this as an opportunity. Agreeing with Ragnar, “The rabbit made it work.” He looked to Thorfinn, “I’m tired of salted meat. You have my thanks.” There was no answer from the shorter blond, he just continued to look at their spread on the table and look lost. Almost as if he didn’t think it was real. The thought threatened to furrow the Prince’s brow. It made him realize yet again, Thorfinn was not amicable with the men he traveled with. When was the last time anyone showed this young man any kindness? When was the last time Thorfinn had the simple pleasure to share a meal with someone at all?

“What’s wrong?” Canute spoke, aiming to pull Thorfinn out of his stupor. “Eat up, you caught the rabbit.”

It seemed to do the trick, for Thorfinn picked up his bowl and spoon and tentatively took a bite. The look on his face, before it was hidden behind matted bangs, was one Canute would very much like to see again. Anger and/or indifference seemed to have a constant monopoly on Thorfinn’s features, but that one, quick moment of.. surprise? Or maybe he was just pleased with the taste of his meal. Either way, the emotion fit his face better, let the ridges between his brows smooth out for a second. Genuine, that was the word. Thorfinn seemed more genuine in that one instant than he did the entirety of the time that Canute had known him thus far.

“Pretty good isn’t it?” Ragnar mused, though the Prince couldn’t quite tell if he had also caught the glimpse of surprise from Thorfinn, or if he was just rearing up to dote and brag on Canute’s cooking talents. “Catch us a deer next, and we’ll really have a meal!”

“...” Not a real reply, but the young guard had acknowledged Ragnar. Thorfinn continued to eat, and almost absentmindedly, “I thought you noble types had everything cooked for you.” It wasn’t a question, a simple statement of thought, but Canute thought he would answer it anyways.

“I enjoy doing it.” The Prince began, “I don’t normally get the chance. Only Ragnar knows that I can cook.” A pause and Canute laid his spoon down in his bowl for a moment. “Do not tell anyone of this.” Thorfinns reply was instant and disinterested.

“Why not?” Followed by, “Who cares?”

Not sure what persuaded him to do so, but Canute began to tell Thorfinn of his father’s, the King, displeasure in the fact that he liked to cook- that it was a frivolous and useless skill to have. Though the shorter blond’s face was as neutral as ever, he did slow in his eating to listen, that alone made Canute feel as he wasn’t wasting his breath, that it was worth having someone other than Ragnar know of how intensely inadequate his father found him to be. Ragnar seemed to be confused at his tellings though. He was obviously not expecting his Highness to share. Giving his Highness an odd look he decided to try and lighten the Prince’s mood, though Canute wasn’t in need of it.

The two of them held their own conversation from there on out, speaking about different dishes Canute could prepare, or what Ragnar could teach him about new dishes he had yet to prepare. The mood in their little borrowed house was light. It was familial in its own way. The young Prince would glance over to Thorfinn every once in a while and was pleased to see that the ever present knot of tension in his shoulders was slowly becoming unraveled. The guard ate and listened.

Something in Thorfinn snapped and Canute shuddered because of it.

What happened in the next instant was too fast for Canute to follow in real time. Thorfinn had gotten up, more like sprung up, and was immediately at the door one of his signature knives pointed at someone’s throat. Had the man had worse reflexes, he would have impaled himself on Thorfinn’s steel. Ragnar was next in the initiative, questioning both Thorfinn and the man on what was going on.

“Agh- I’m on your side Thorfinn!” So it was one of Askeladd’s men. “I’m just bringing a message…” Despite this, it still took a long moment for Thorfinn to remove his knife from the man’s throat. Ragnar took the lead from there and was questioning the newcomer on Canute’s behalf, but Canute himself was still trained on his short bodyguard.

Thorfinn was still tense, still alert and ready to strike, but his initial instinct was slowly recoiling back into its original state. It was interesting to watch the slow movement of his shoulders and back muscles through threadbare clothing. However, Canute’s gaze was felt and Thorfinn shot him a look that could kill. Oddly enough the look from the dirtied blond softened a little, as if he was reminded that Canute was still there and his presence wasn’t something he should be afraid of. The thought struck the Prince as oddly satisfying. He wasn’t able to really dive further into that train of thought, however, for the man brought news of the English advancing on the hideout they had procured. Canute’s shock couldn’t beat out Ragnar’s rage. Heated words about Askeladd and his poor decisions were spoken, and then, just as suddenly as they had come, the man was gone, Ragnar following after him.

The little house was now too still and too quiet until it was broken by Thorfinn huffing through his nose.

“Can’t even manage to close the damn door on their way out.” He muttered, moving to do just that so the winter’s day wouldn’t try and suck any more of the hard earned heat out of the house. With the door closed Thorfinn relocated to his new post beside the door, leaning against the wall. The Prince watched him do this and suddenly Thorfinn was glaring at him again. “Have I fucking done something?” The shorter teen hissed.

“What?” Such an elegant reply, good job Canute. Not that Thorfinn gave two shits about that kind of thing.

“You’ve been staring. Like a lot.” Thorfinn turned to fully face Canute, leaning only one shoulder on the wall. “Still mad, Princess?” A smirk. Of course that’s what he would call him, but Canute realized he was talking about their squabble in the wagons the other day. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who your father is or who’s womb you crawled out of.”

“Still have the vulgar audacity to speak to me like that, but no.” Thorfinn raised a brow at him. “It was more of a shock than anything else. I don’t particularly mind that you speak so blatantly.” No matter how sharp the words, unfortunately. It seemed that the shorter blond did not have a reply for that and instead just refocused his attention to the fire instead. Canute also took this moment to recollect his thoughts. He knew Ragnar was angry, he warned Askeladd about the very problem at hand. Askeladd had paid him no mind at all. Still, the Prince was worried. Ragnar had left in the heat of the moment to a battlefield only to argue with the man leading the defensive charge. Not to mention, his soup would be cold by the time he came back. What a waste.

Perhaps the moments before Ragnar’s return wouldn’t entirely be a waste, though. Not if Canute played his cards right. He wanted to understand Thorfinn. Never before had he met someone that has proven themselves to be so complicated, especially since at first Canute thought him to be a simple brute among other simple brutes. Why was Thorfinn here, why was he in, but yet not considered, part of Askeladd’s band? What happened to him? The short blond hates the man, yet follows him around the country and overseas. He even follows some insane orders with the promise of some kind of reward.

Thorfinn let out an aggravated noise and was suddenly leaning over Canute, hands flat on the table with a bang.

“You’re doing it again. Quit.” The shorter teen growled. Canute blinked owlishly at him. What? Oh, had he been staring again? Nevertheless he continued to study Thorfinn, which was quickly making his guard’s blood boil. Then Canute stood forcing the other teen to stand back a bit and look up at him. He knew that Thorfinn was shorter than him, but it was still amusing to actually see it. Thorfinn carried himself to be larger, more intimidating. Said young guard was now glaring up at Canute through his dirtied bangs. “What?” He hissed.

“You confuse me, Thorfinn.” The Prince replied. Thorfinn also had a fair amount of confusion mixed in with his usual anger, and that fact pleased Canute a bit- at least the feeling was mutual. “I’ve just been trying to figure you out.”

“Well stop.”

“No, I shan’t” Canute replied swiftly. Thorfinn was prone to argue, but nothing came out. The Prince could take a guess as to what he was thinking. That the person in front of him was the same as the shy and bumbling Prince that was showcased and dragged around all of England these past few weeks? Yes and no. There was nothing political in this task, Canute had nothing to fear if he took a misstep. No repercussions. This was a purely selfish motive in which he had no problems pursuing as long as it was kept private. “Also it’s not that I can not, it’s that I will not”

“You…” Thorfinn struggled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, perhaps not.” This reply really made Thorfinn angry, Canute could see it in the way his whole body tensed, gearing up to fight. Part of him wanted to see if his guard would actually hit him. However, before either of them could think through what they wanted to do next, for some odd reason, Canute had moved and held Thorfinn’s face in his hands. Both teens were now wide eyed and tense. Why did he do that? When did he do that? Just now? A moment ago?

Canute was the first to settle down from the shock of his own actions, and instead of pulling away like he thought he would, the Prince settled into the position. He let his hands feel the warmth of Thorfinn’s jaw and slid down to where his thumbs were still on the other blond’s face, but the rest of his fingers curled delicately around his neck. He knew his hands must have been cold, he was prone to be, but the proof lies in the fact that Thorfinn’s skin puckered into bumps right before he shuddered just slightly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thorfinn asked, his voice surprisingly tame. He was definitely still angry and on edge, but thus far it seemed as if Canute was not in danger of being bitten by the wolf that accompanied Thorfinn’s anger.

“Indulging, just let me for a moment.” Canute replied softly, as if trying not to spook Thorfinn away.

“...the hell does that even mean?” The guard muttered in reply. Canute laughed lightly, amused.

“Don’t think on it too hard,Thorfinn.” No reply to that, but the dirtied teen in his hands didn’t pull away either. Good, that was good.

Now that Canute had somehow managed to get them into this situation, he took as much time as he damn well pleased to study the other boy. Not that he was naive enough to believe that staring at Thorfinn would somehow unlock his secrets, but he did think it would help. Thorfinn was a recluse. No one ever got too close to him and he would never let them, so the fact that Canute was quite literally in his personal space seemed like a major victory.

Thorfinn had hard light brown eyes, but if the fire flickered right they were more like unearthed amber or sweet honey. They were nothing like the Prince’s own eyes, a sky blue. The sky may be vast, but Thorfinn’s eyes were deep. What was that saying? The eyes were a window into the soul? Canute could readily believe that looking into Thorfinn’s.

Next Canute took note that, under all the dirt, Thorfinn was tired. He had coloration and lines on his skin that a boy of their age shouldn’t have. Did he ever sleep through the night? His guard was always up late and always up early, always seen at odd hours thinking about something far away... or a time long gone, perhaps? Beyond what dirt and sleepless bruising lay on his skin, was what lacked beneath it. Thorfinn was a genuine threat on the battlefield, how could someone so strong have such gaunt in his cheeks? He knew Thorfinn fended for himself, but from what he has seen, he does a rather good job at it. Granted, he doesn’t eat square meals. Canute thinks that just earlier was the first time he’s seen Thorfinn eat anything green, or not meat related. Still, a soldier's diet of salted meat and wine wouldn’t result in malnutrition. Was malnutrition why he was short? Just… Just how long had Thorfinn been taking care of himself? The men didn’t bat an eye at Thorfinn’s presence. In fact, while marching and the men told old stories, Thorfinn was in a good many of them. Years? Had it been years since Thorfinn had a meal like the one he had today?

“I don’t need your fucking pity.” Thorfinn’s voice startled the Prince. Was he making a face of some kind?

“I didn’t mean..”

“Save your breath, I don’t care.”

Canute thought it was best to not reply, so instead he wiped some dirt off of Thorfinn’s face with one of his thumbs. With a fresh bath, a sturdy brush, and some new clothes, Thorfinn could be considered handsome.

He wondered what Thorfinn was thinking. Was he actually trying to decipher Canute in turn or was he just waiting for the Prince to be done? Canute also wondered, truly, when was the last time Thorfinn was shown kindness? Affection? Perhaps he wasn’t a lone wolf at all, but something lost instead. When one finds themselves abandoned in one way or another, in an unfamiliar place, one must adapt. Did Thorfinn just adapt to killing? Fights because he has to? It was frustrating going through all these thoughts himself, but Canute knew for a fact that Thorfinn would not simply answer any questions that he asked.

Perhaps… Perhaps Canute could be the one to show him kindness? Maybe he could properly tame the wolf that was Thorfinn’s anger, and find the lost person it was protecting. Thorfinn was so hard to get close to though, even today he had been reluctant to simply share his rabbit and then a meal. So what could the Prince do? He thought of this and that, feeling Thorfinn’s pulse through the fingers on his neck. Absentmindedly he rubbed his thumbs in time with it, studying him. Again Thorfinn couldn’t suppress a shiver and again Canute was moving without thinking at all.

He had pressed their lips together. Why? Not even God above would know. Thorfinn’s lips were chapped, still and shocked against the Prince’s own, but he was warm. Unfairly warm and it seeped into Canute. He could stay this way for a long while if he was completely honest with himself, but one kiss was enough. A gesture of both kindness and affection that Thorfinn could seek out from him if he chose to do so if he ever needed to feel wanted. So Canute pulled away, but instead of the awkward moment he was expecting, strong hands pulled him back in at the hips. Thorfinn had leaned back up and continued the kiss.

The taller blond was not expecting this, but then again he was also not expecting to have kissed Thorfinn in the first place either. His pale hands slipped from Thorfinn’s face and neck and instead slid so Canute could rest his arms on his guard’s shoulders. The hands on his hips were most likely bruising him with how tight they held him, but that was part of what he liked about this moment. Thorfinn was holding him and kissing him like this was something he desperately needed. Canute returned its ferocity and leaned in, making Thorfinn crane his neck at an odd angle, and then ran his tongue over the shorter’s lips. Again this was something neither of them were expecting, not experienced enough to really know what they were doing at all to be honest.

However, surprisingly enough, Thorfinn had again let it happen, letting Canute test the waters. So he did. Canute pushed his tongue into the other blond’s mouth. He felt Thorfinn’s tongue with his own, the roof of his mouth and back of his teeth. It was oddly exhilarating, even more so when Thorfinn mimicked Canute and did the same to him.

As Thorfinn kissed him Canute moved them, pivoting them so Thorfinn was between him and the table. The shorter blond grunted when it happened and turned his head out of the kiss to look at their new position, to which the taller blond took as a chance to place kisses to Thorfinn’s jaw and neck.

“Don’t think that I’m just going to bend over like some paid whore.” Thorfinn muttered, his voice was a little deeper, thicker, Canute couldn’t help but like it, but also couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from him.

“I wasn’t really planning on it.” He mused, resting his head in the crook of Thorfinn’s neck. Canute watched as Thorfinn reached for his low ponytail and played with the strands tentatively. It almost seemed as if he had been wanting to do so for a while but never had gotten the chance to do so until now. Canute kept that nice little thought in mind as he placed more kisses up Thorfinn’s neck, trailing back up to his mouth.

The two of them kissed some more, each exploring at their own paces. Canute also let his hands wander; Thorfinn was all muscle and bone and very thin. The prince knew that one day, if Thorfinn’s disinterest in his own health didn’t kill him first, that he would be properly strong, with healthy muscle, and a fuller face. At least that’s what he hoped for. Thorfinn did not explore the way Canute did, but his grip remained tight and would squeeze him whenever Canute did something he liked. At some point their hands inched a little higher.

The heat between them slowly, so very slowly, faded and they were back where they started, Canute cupping his face. After a few moments that stopped too.

“Did this ever happen?” Thorfinn asked, voice quiet. Canute blinked at him, it wouldn’t bode well for him if Thorfinn ever told anyone of their little venture, but he was honestly surprised that the other cared at all. But more than that, Canute was surprised to see that the anger that was seemingly permanent on Thorfinn’s features was gone. In its place was something the Prince could not identify, but he would burn the image in his brain. Hard eyes were gone, in its place was only honey and a fair amount of color in his cheeks.

Canute decided he would be the one to give Thorfinn the kindness he deserved. Even if it was just in small doses, seemingly meaningless gestures.

“No.” He replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Thorfinn’s cheek. “But it could happen again if you want.”

The shorter blond huffed and made a gesture for Canute to move. He did and Thorfinn moved towards the door. Canute had expected him to leave, but instead he had taken his previous makeshift post at the door. “Whatever, your Highness”

The Prince took his place back at the table, smiling to himself. That response certainly wasn’t a no. He had more thinking to do.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #canute #prince canute #thornute #character study #vinland saga fanfiction #anime #manga

[alliterative-albatross]

So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

~

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again. 

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise! 

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory. 

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs, 

~ Jay